The Maiden and the Monster


The dream he had was uncomfortably vivid. There was a period in his childhood when he had a lot of dreams, but sometimes around his (well, her at that time) fifteenth year of age they just kind of vanished.

In the dream he was driving through a lush green meadow, when suddenly something happened. Something behind him. An incredibly strong flash of pure white light. An explosion.

A mushroom-shaped cloud rising up the cerulean sky.

The shockwave got all the way to that grassy field. He could feel the poison. He knew that sooner or later he would start to feel really tired and get a fever. After that the real fun would start, beginning with diarrhoea, and once he would trade his hair for purple spots on his face, it would be quite obvious where he was heading to.

He arrived at a town and (he flinched as he remembered that) tried to warn the people there, telling them they have to leave if they can, take shelter if they can’t. But no one could hear him. They all carried on with their normal businesses, chatting in the streets, eating food from street vendors and smiling while the cloud rose ever higher and fallout begun to descend on everything, suffocating him.

He woke up with a start and begun to cough, nevertheless a dream was just a dream and his airways were just fine. He opened his eyes and gazed at the aquarium to calm down. There was a girl in front of him. The fair-haired child from before.

“You told me to take shelter.” She said, leaning against the glass.

“W-who are you?” His question was interrupted by another cough.

The girl ignored it, slowly backing away towards the doorway, her eyes fixed on him. Her face was blank. It wasn’t the face of a girl confronted by a stranger, who just woke up from an unpleasant dream.

“If you keep on going towards the centre, you’ll find the exit; or so I was told.”

“So how can I get out of here? Do you have a phone? I… I was in an accident. A landslide.”

“I tried to get out of here as well, but I was not allowed to. They kidnapped me. They brought me here, and then they said that witnesses never leave unharmed. They said witnesses would always be a risk. But I have to find a way back to my own world.”

“…what?”

“If I keep trying I can do anything. Momma said so. So I gather all my courage and fight against the monsters.”

Since there didn’t seem to be any point in asking her about the phone, he decided to play along and, hopefully, learn something about that household’s peculiar situation.

“You should phone the police and tell them all about this.” He said, trying to sound caring and well-meaning.

“If I do that, they will find out immediately. He will come. He’ll take me down again. I will be chastised.”

“Take you where?”

“Foundations. Daddy always used to say that the foundations of a house are its heart. And it ate the foundations.” The girl explained, and for the first time there was the sound of real fear in her voice.

“Okay. Now I want you to tell me one thing. What ate the foundations? Can you tell me that?”

“Elef-Kehe-Eynayim.”

Saying those foreign words, she suddenly sounded much more adult. Katse looked up from the sketchbook he had been eyeing briefly, and saw he was alone.

If only I had a gun…


He thought to himself. A girl like that would cause nothing but trouble, as she was so removed from common sense. Though he took into account the possibility that she might’ve been telling the truth, it seemed much more likely that the long period of time she was forced to spend here without being allowed to leave took a toll on her mind.

…kay. Gotta be careful now. God knows what kind of scum is lurking here. Besides, there’s no way a girl that size could change my clothes. Someone else must be in here. This place does look like some research facility. There must be some staff present. And the fact that I don’t know anything about their existence must mean they have good connections and security. Better be careful.

The aquarium was left behind, and he concentrated once more on getting to the centre, going through all possible scenarios. When faced with the endless white of the maze, the discomposure he felt while talking to the girl faded away, calmness taking its place. All he had to do was walk. That was quite simple, wasn’t it? Walk. Walk, walk, walk. Not thinking about anything else. After all, everyone belonging to Galactor purified his or her heart, making it zero. No unnecessary emotions. Just walk.


Being so used to his solitude, the sound of approaching footsteps made him tense up and look around in search for a hideout. Alas, he found himself in a long hallway without a single crevice. It was impossible to hide in time, and since he had no weapons (yet), and his physical wellbeing left much to be wished for, he decided to play innocent.

In a few seconds a woman emerged from behind the corner. Tall, stern-featured, and with her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun, she reminded him of governesses from nineteenth century, even though she wore a white lab-coat over pants and a polo shirt. Once she came closer, he also noticed her hands were bandaged thickly down to her fingertips, which paged furiously through a thick pile of papers she was burdened with. She paid no attention whatsoever to the one watching her.

“Excuse me, ma’m?” he asked in his best confused-but-friendly voice.

The woman kept on walking, ignoring him completely. She was softly muttering to herself while going through those papers of hers.

“Ma’m. Can you please help me?” he tried somewhat louder.

Even tapping her shoulder didn’t do anything. Katse wasn’t exactly known for his patience, and so he grasped her hands, causing those papers to spill on floor. She dropped down and begun to pick them up without any hurry. He squatted beside her and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

“Sorry, but I really need to get out of here, and hurting you to get to know how is not going to trouble me too much.”

Her lips didn’t stop moving even for a second. He tried to listen, but there was no sense in that mumble.

Then he became aware of wetness spreading under his fingers. He looked down. Patches of yellowish colour were soaking through the bandages. A sickly odour of rot and antiseptics hit his nose, making him shrink away. The woman stood up, having gathered the paperwork up in a big, messy pile. She left without even a single glance at her would-be murderer, who was too disgusted with the lingering feeling of pus on his hands.

He rose as well, searching for something to wipe his fingers on, and staggered. The pain returned in an instant. With it he noticed a light-headedness which wasn’t there before. Forgetting about the encounter, he pulled out his pills and swallowed one, sitting down to let the discomfort pass. Fortunately the effects arrived as early as he could’ve wished for, and wiping his forehead he got up, keeping one hand against the wall for support. And then, quite suddenly, the woman returned, her eyes ablaze with feverish light. Appearing from behind a corner, she grabbed his wrist and pulled.

“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it can’t be long! Oh, how we waited for you!” She exclaimed, dragging him with her. Her grip was inhumanly strong. Like a vice. It actually hurt. And her fingers didn’t feel quite right either. They were disgustingly swollen.

“What are you talking about, ma’m?”

“You’re the one! You’re the one! He foretold it. And now you are here!”

“Okay, ma’m. What do you mean by that?”

She stopped and spun around. Her bun got undone, crinkly hair flying around her face. Her eyes were wide open. Their whites weren’t white at all but yellow.

“You’re Hagith! You’re Hagith! You’ll be the one to complete us!” she yelled into his face.

That was something he hated. Being yelled at. Being touched. Having someone else’s intentions forced onto him without him having any say in it, as if he was a dumb animal. A guinea pig.

He hit her throat with the knuckles of his right hand to crush her trachea and planted his knee in her stomach. Although she staggered back, she miraculously remained on her feet.

“Hagith! You’re Hagith! You’re Hagith!”

She reached towards him. Soaked bandages fell to the ground, revealing what was underneath. The reason why her grip felt so off. Those fingers were horribly mutated appendages which felt so fat because they were bent in half.

She stretched them out.

Katse jumped back. Seeing something that inhuman was truly revolting. Like he would get infected if he came in any contact with them; or simply by standing too close. The woman noticed and burst out laughing, covering her mouth with those wet and glistening spidery fingers.

“If… hahaha… if you want to know… haha… why are you Hagith… why am I Ophiel… who are we waiting for… hahahaha… that way. Go that way.” She said, clutching her stomach while pointing with her other hand to a corridor branching away from the main route. There was a symbol on the wall, a geometric one, drawn with a black marker.

“I don’t care about that crap. I just want to get out of here.” He snarled, backing away some more.

“That doesn’t matter. This is the only way open to you. The only way out is through. Phul is not going to help you. She hasn’t accepted her part yet but soon will. Aratron will make sure of that. Aratron will make sure…”

As soon as she finished her speech, she started to laugh again, only this time her cackle grew louder and louder. She threw her head back and Katse watched, morbidly fascinated, how her cheeks cracked horizontally. How her jaws elongated, sliding out from behind the cover of her lips, alligator-like teeth appearing behind the normal human set. By then her laugh became completely distorted. Moments later it ceased altogether. She snapped her jaws and pointed to the marked corridor again. Even when faced with such a monster, Katse found it in himself to glare at her while slowly moving away, never letting her out of sight.

Why is this happening to me? What the fuck happened with the world? Who the hell is that pig-disgusting mutant?

Pig-disgusting mutant? And isn’t that quite the irony, coming from you?

The voice of the critical part of his ego came as quite a surprise and it hit the bull’s-eye. For a moment he forgot about the bizarre situation he found himself in and felt new emotions pouring into the anger and agitation. Guilt and embarrassment.

“You disgusting freak.” “Prepare subject 0017584/370 for neurosurgery.” “Don’t worry, Gattino. It won’t hurt. You have nothing to fear.” “So you are, in fact, a mutant?” “Hey, let me see. I’ll give you a quarter if you spread your legs a bit.”

He had to stop and take several deep breaths. Those memories. They kept flowing through his brain and that was a very bad timing they chose. His hands flew up to his throat. He couldn’t get enough air. Black spots appeared at the edge of the field of his vision. Trying desperately to keep it together, He grabbed his pill-box again and this time opened its other side. There was a different kind of capsules. A respiratory stimulant created especially for him, the heavy user of Sufentanil. He bit it hard and let his saliva dissolve it, swallowing a mouthful of bitterness. Once the crisis was gone, he remained sitting for a while, hugging his legs, forehead resting on knees.

I’m okay. I’m okay now. I was unprepared, but I’m in control again. I won’t be held in any cages ever again.

I’m in control.

One at Centre of the Spiral Maze


I’m okay now. I’m in control.

I’m okay now. I’m in control.

He was stumbling down the corridor, the same two sentences playing in his mind over and over again. Although he had taken the analgesic, the insensitiveness to pain hardly fooled his body into thinking it was alright. He needed food, water, and rest.

Unfortunately the corridor he was going down proved to be rather peculiar. It kept on going around and around in a spiral, perfectly confusing his senses. There were no turn-offs; no rooms were connected to it. Its walls, floor and ceiling were all covered by identical white tiles with strange symbols painted every few feet.

This uniformity of surrounding started to disorient him. Presence of those symbols didn’t help at all. Their sequence kept repeating every several metres. He wasn’t sure where up and down was anymore. Sure; his mind knew that ‘down’ was below his feet and ‘up’ above his head, but his feet grew less steady and stomach queasier by the minute. Still, he kept going on and on, refusing to even think about a rest. He would sit down once he reached the end. After all it can’t go on forever, can it?

Can it?

He bit his lip.

Come on. You’re not stupid, are you? This is a triple spiral maze. It’s exactly that kind of symbolic shape that lunatics love. Just keep on going. You’ll reach the end eventually. How many ‘S’s have we passed?

Uh… two? Or three? Or four?

It must’ve been three. Just keep your head clear. We’re fine. We’re in control, aren’t we?

The voice sounded reassuring for a change. Too bad he felt too crap to be happy about it.

He decided to keep his eyes fixed on the floor as it was the best way to keep the nausea at bay, and so, when the end came, he almost banged his head against the wall. First corner in an hour – or a month. The corridor made a sharp turn, mouthing into a rather large room. This one was triangular, as tall as the central nave of a cathedral, and in its centre was a spiral staircase going underground.

“Well then, our guest of honour has finally arrived.”

A voice suddenly whispered into his ear.

He wanted to spin around and punch that man’s ear, but as soon as he thought about it both his arms were wrenched behind his back. Something crept over his wrists and forearms, holding them together. It was cold and mucous, and it felt like there were some coarse bristles jutting out from it.

His mind started to tiptoe away from the world.

“Nuh-uh. Can’t have you get violent. Especially not in the shape you are in. I don’t want to hurt you after all.”

The voice, though being unmistakeably an adult male one, had a strange, artificial quality to it.

“W-what are you?” Katse gasped, trying desperately to stay conscious.

“Me? Why, I am what I am. Right now I am called Aratron. Ophiel already told you so, didn’t she? She always gets things done. So reliable… But back to you. I happen to be very interested in you. You’ll be a worthy addition to the group of our comrades.”

“…ah…fuck you.” He choked out, dissolving into violent cough, his airways blocked by blood from the re-opened wound.

“Well, you’re falling unconscious, so I’ll make this brief. We have been waiting for too long. You shall stay no matter what your present opinion on the subject is. Soon you will understand.”

Words of that man were starting to lose any meaning to Katse, who became too weak to stand on his own two feet. His eyes closed. He was vaguely aware of a pair of strong hands guiding his fall. He wanted to tell their owner to go and screw himself, but while he was in the middle of gathering strength to do so, the whole world just walked away, leaving him in darkness.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************


He had a feeling someone was shaking him. He wondered if the voice, which kept desperately trying to rouse him awake, belonged to a girl. When he forced his eyes open, he could only hear a quickly fading echo of footsteps, so it might’ve been a dream.

Or an illusion.

Definitely something that didn’t matter.

What did matter was the fact that the room was unbearably bright.

Grumbling something unkind he rolled over on his stomach. That made him aware of a pressure which wasn’t there before. Slipping his hand under the covers and touching his chest, he found out that he wasn’t a ‘he’ anymore. This realisation finally woke her up and she looked at her other hand. As usual after the Change, it was gaunt and ugly, just like the rest of her body until she found herself a good restaurant where people didn’t ask questions and ate herself through the whole menu to regain her body-mass.

There were two hypodermic needles burrowed in the bulging veins at the back of her hand, secured by tape. Both lead to almost identical bags of clear liquid. She frowned. The very thought of unknown substances entering her body was repulsive. She sat up (with surprising ease, regarding all circumstances), wanting to yank both needles out, when she noticed for the first time she wasn’t alone.

It was that man again. Finally she could see how he looked like, since the entire conversation preceding ‘her’ fainting passed with him being behind ‘her’ back.

He was a plain man. Rather wiry, receding hairline, eyes a bit too big. They shone with unpleasant light.

“Do go ahead. But the longer you keep them in, the better you’ll feel. After all, it’s just lactated Ringer’s solution and some nutrition.”

Narrowing her eyes, she yanked one needle out, and launched herself at the man, aiming for his eye. He merely chuckled and waved his arm. It went through a split-second transformation into a huge tentacle. The limb smashed into Katse’s ribs, sending her flying against the wall. Once she collapsed, gasping for air, momentarily lost in the pain caused by such impact, it pinned her down.

“Sorry for that. You see, you have to be reasonable. Fortunately, since I had time to get myself a little bit acquainted with your anatomy, I know where your limits lie. I promise I won’t push you past them.”

He smiled affably. The tentacle pressed her uncomfortably against the floor. Despite its general shape, it was clear that its original didn’t belong among any cephalopods. As it squeezed her, she could feel hard bone inside of some stomach-turningly soft flesh covered by a slightly damp skin. She dropped the needle and tried to convey as much hate as possible through her eyes, but he was so surreal a person, her mind just couldn’t accept him as a creature capable of understanding hatred.

“Please try not to struggle too much. We’ve already decided to make you a part of our family. You should rejoice. All your past sins will be forgiven. Isn’t it great? No one else would ever present you with a chance like that. If I were a human, I would most likely kill you with my own two hands, given mankind’s sentiments towards you, Ms. Berg Katse.”

“Shut up, you monster.”

She hissed, trying to find the needle so she could at least scratch that sickeningly warm, pulsating limb.

“Ahahaha. You are so funny, Ms. Katse… That’s quite an irony – a person such as yourself calling me a monster.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“Oh, aren’t you? Then what are you? Human? Surely you jest.”

She tried to find something clever to spit in his face, but found herself unable to do so. Instead she felt blood rushing into her cheeks.

“See? Become one of us. If you do, if you join our ranks, you will have a family. Doesn’t that please you? Oh, forgive me. I should’ve said when you do. When you join our ranks. Stressed people hardly ever make correct decisions. So I allowed myself to take responsibility, so you shall be spared any potential regrets. Which I don’t believe you will have. Believe me. It feels good. Feels good to let go. To have the power to do… well, to do virtually anything. So rejoice. And thank our lord Elef-Kehe-Eynayim.”

His right hand, which kept its human shape, pulled a machete from behind his back. Gripping its handle tight, Aratron pressed it against his left armpit and jerked it up. There was no blood. The tentacle-arm thudded to the floor, where it twitched for a moment. Its upper part then freed itself from sleeves of both shirt and coat, and the remaining human likeness melted into the shape of an eyeless snake’s head. It reared up, supporting itself on at least a dozen of tall, spindly legs, and wrapped itself around Katse. More legs sprouted. Katse was pulled up by her wrists and pinned against the wall.

“Good. Very good. Please stay like that for a moment.”

Completely disregarding the stump where his arm used to be, Aratron disappeared for a minute, returning with a small case. He placed it on the gurney where Katse slept until a minute ago, and opened it with a single flick of his finger. White vapour poured out.

“We want to keep this as fresh as possible, don’t we?”

He smiled at Katse again and grabbed a small, opaque bottle from a flat container filled with liquid nitrogen. Barehanded. Putting it carefully down, he shook his hand. Pieces of ice and torn-off skin flew everywhere. New skin regrew immediately as he pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket and pressed a button.

“Ophiel, please bring me the rest.”

“The rest of what?” Katse asked, although she had an unpleasant feeling she knew.

Just as she thought, Aratron had hardly put the walkie-talkie away when the greying scientist arrived, her arms and fingers wrapped in fresh bandages. She was carrying a small tray with a disinfectant and a syringe.

“Here it is, doctor.” She said, giving Aratron a brilliant smile. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes, it is, dear Ophiel. Have you seen Bethor by any chance?” he asked matter-of-factly, and Katse pricked up her ears. How many of them were there?

“Dr. Bethor is tending to Och.”

“I see. And Phaleg?”

“Last time I saw her, she was playing with Phul.”

“Oh, good. I like it when the two of them are having fun. Phul always looks so… lonely. As the source of half of her genes, I feel responsible for her happiness.”

“She will understand with time. Elef-Kehe-Eynayim will open her eyes.”

While having this casual-sounding conversation, Ophiel took the bottle and drew its contents in the syringe, filling the entirety of the barrel. Handing it to Aratron, she took the tray along with the empty bottle and case, and walked away without further ado, whispering to herself over and over ‘what luck, what luck’.

Aratron handed the syringe to his severed limb. No matter how hard she tried, Katse couldn’t free herself enough to kick it away, smash it, and run. The doctor ignored her struggles, uncapped the disinfectant and poured a bit on a cotton swab. Holding it cautiously in his fingers, he walked over to his prey, who glared at him, wishing that Sousai would get her out of that predicament. Even a visit from those idiot bird-brains was preferable. Anything.

“Aren’t you going to beg for your freedom?” he asked joyfully, waving the syringe in front of her eyes.

She drew as much saliva as possible and spat in his face, hitting him right below his eye. His only answer was another amused chuckle. Then his lower eyelid drooped, stretching, twisting, and wiped the cheek, absorbing the spit.

“I knew you would be a great addition. I believe this is what they mean when they say ‘heaven-sent’. It was a good idea after all to turn all the lights on to guide you here.”

He slowly undid the first four buttons of her shirt, stroking each with his thumb. The huge, half-healed wound came to view.

“I would’ve given you some Tramal like the others, but somehow I’ve got a feeling that in your case I ought to make an exception. After all, I myself didn’t get any. So I want to apologise for this. It’s a bit shameful, doing this to a lady, even though you are one just for the time being…”

Something flashed through the air so fast her eyes couldn’t follow. First there was just the sensation of something hard and cold piercing her body. She opened her mouth – to complain, to swear, to scream, she wasn’t sure herself. This feeling lasted hardly a second. Pain followed. She bit her lip. Just as she was about to tell herself that it wasn’t that bad, he pressed hard on the piston, emptying the milky-white contents straight into the wound. Her eyes opened wide, pupils dilating as the world around her shattered into million pieces, each coursing through her nerves like high voltage, setting her skin on fire, grinding her bones into dust. In that moment nothing mattered anymore. There was no Sousai X, no Galactor, no ISO, no Science Ninjas. No Kozaburou Nambu, no Earth, no fate, no past, present, or future. No Berg Katse. Only that searing, all-encompassing agony which went beyond life and death, consciousness and unconsciousness.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Slowly but surely things started to regain qualities which defined them. Floor was cold; air could be breathed in and out. It was dark all around. That meant that it was either night, or-

…she opened her eyes…

-that she had been out cold.

Again the gurney.

Again those IV drips.

For a moment she entertained the thought that it was all but a dream. Until she heard that voice, that is.

“Well done. You held out marvellously. Good thing you have this extraordinary healing ability. Otherwise you would’ve probably ended up with a cardiac arrest.”

He came into her view. There was a thin flashlight between his left hand’s fingers. He wore a new shirt and a new lab coat.

Light in the room hurt. The ray, which he used to check her pupils, was worse. Her eyes begun to water almost immediately.

“You might have a lot of questions right now but are too tired to ask. So I’ll try to illuminate your situation a little bit. You are still the’ you’ which you were before. It takes some time for your existence to transcend human boundaries; and we’ll need help for that.”

That didn’t sound good. That didn’t sound good at all.

“In order for such transition to happen, your body-mass has to be replaced by the new essence. You can imagine yourself as baby chick needing to break out of its shell. Now let us go and watch something.”

He removed both needles and picked the mutant up. Katse noticed, somewhat detachedly, that ‘her’ breasts were gone.

“I Changed again…” he thought out loud.

“Yes; you have. That’s why there was the intravenous nutrition. You were kept unconscious for two days. Your body was unable to sustain itself anymore and it was still early for the essence to activate. But now… it’s just about time.”

The doctor didn’t walk a long way. Only to the next room, where he set his load in an armchair. Katse was starting to be seriously annoyed about the fact that he couldn’t move a finger.

A screen slid down from the ceiling, showing a white corridor. The one with the exit door. First it was empty, but then a girl appeared, rushing towards the door in a frenetic fashion, looking over her shoulder every few steps. She was older than the one called Phul, but she was still just a kid. A terrified kid.

She threw the door open and Katse’s breath got stuck in his throat.

There was the Science Ninja Team. Four of them.

The girl did a very good job tripping and falling down to be caught by the Swan.

“You’ve got to help us! Please!” the girl shrieked, grasping the white, wing-shaped cloak.

“It’s okay now. Just tell us what’s wrong and we’ll help you.” The Swan tried to soothe her, though without much success. The girl was shaking all over.

“A man came. He’s holding my parents and my little sister hostage. I… I managed to escape, but… but… He killed my big brother!” she cried out, immediately dissolving into sobs.

The ninjas exchanged a determined look.

Two guesses what were they determined to do.

“How did he look like? Can you describe him?” the Eagle helped the girl on her feet, trying to sound kind.

“He… he was wearing a strange purple costume. Mask with pointy ears. Really strange. But there was blood all over, so he had to take it off.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Everyone gasped, knowing they are so close, so very close to get their sworn enemy.

“What did he look like under the mask? Did you see?”

“Y-yes. But only for a second. I had to run away. I was hiding. He had blond hair. Grey eyes. There was a huge bruise on his forehead.”

“Can you show us the way?

“Yes. But we have to hurry. I’m sure he wants to kill mom and dad. Just like… just like…”

“Okay. Lead the way.” The Condor interrupted her.

She nodded and pointed in front of her. The Science Ninjas set off and she followed them, but only after glancing up at the camera. She gave it a small smile and she was gone.

Katse looked at Aratron.

Before that day, he had killed ninety-nine point nine percent of his victims just because it was expected of him. Assassinations. Executions. Things like that. He didn’t actually hold any hard feelings towards those men and women. There was only a very small handful of people whose brains he blew out (or more usually - whose cars he rigged with explosives. It was safer that way.) that he loathed. Unfortunately the ones he despised the most were out of his reach. So far.

In fact, nowadays he didn’t regard people as, well, people. Just objects. Three types of objects.

Some of them were in his way, which made them obstacles to be removed, while the existence of others was beneficial. Temporarily, as always. He had to give them what they wanted so they would stay beneficial for as long as possible. It often reminded him of playing visual novels.

Third type, the masses, was about as intelligent and useful as plankton.

Those three categories had one thing in common. He dealt with them automatically and non-committally, feeling hardly anything aside from mild annoyance, disdain and schadenfreude.

Therefore it was oddly refreshing, to feel the fire of hate, pure and white, flare up within his chest.

Aratron noticed and his serene smile changed into an amused one. He lifted Katse up again and held him close. The blond terrorist could feel the beat of both hearts. Another hand supported his neck so Aratron could draw close and whisper into his ear.

“Please break as soon as possible. I can’t wait.”

“Why won’t you do it yourself? Don’t have the balls for that?”

“Well, if I felt like that, I could be literally made out of testicles… but now seriously. There is proper decorum for that. I don’t want to rush things. The longer the wait, the sweeter the satisfaction. That’s why I picked someone so skilled at cowardly running away.”

Katse saw red. He didn’t even need a gun or a knife. Had he been able to move as he pleased, he would’ve clawed that man’s throat out. Not only he incapacitated him, injected him with some alien slime, made a fool out of him, and set the Science Ninjas on his trail, now he was mocking him as well.

Unforgivable.

But there was still one thing.

“That stupid little messenger of yours got it wrong. I don’t have a bruise. She got it wrong.” Katse said, a gleeful grin spreading on his lips.

“No. She got it right.” Aratron answered simply, grasped the delicate white neck a little bit tighter and bashed the golden-haired head against the closest wall.

Even after becoming a monster, he wasn’t one to treat people ruthlessly. He set the unconscious mutant back in the armchair, wiping the trickle of blood with his fingers and cleaning them with his tongue.

A part of him, that part which analysed and understood, reported: New DNA. After the Hailing Ritual that part was supposed to make up his whole being. And yet, as he left the room, he couldn’t stop himself from whistling Ticket to Ride from Beatles. That cheerful and carefree song flew through lifeless corridors like the first spring’s swallow before it ultimately faded away, leaving only a vapid silence.

An Undecided Game of Tag


“Sir. Sir, you have to get out of here.” A faint voice was calling out to him. A small hand shook his shoulder.

He opened an eye and saw the fair haired child again.

“You’re… Phul. Right?”

The girl drew back for a moment, looking anxious, but then she shook her head wildly.

“No. No, that’s wrong. They might call me that, but I’m Maureen. Maureen MacNab. I’m no Phul. That’s what they decided! They kidnapped me! They’re the monsters, not me!” she practically screamed and he had to put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

By doing that he also realised he can move again.

“You said I have to get out of here…” he reminded her, wanting to divert the child’s attention to something more useful.

“That’s right. They’re coming. The bird people. I know why they are here. You have to run.”

“…right.”

He looked at her. The girl, who looked about six. That earnest voice. Those frightened eyes. He closed his fingers around her throat and knocked her down to the ground. Her lips opened as if she was a fish thrown out of the water.

“Tell the truth now, or I’ll break your neck.”

“…bu…but that…is th…truth…” she gasped, tears forming in her eyes.

“This is another one of Aratron’s traps, isn’t it?”

“No! I swear! I… I have to… fight for peace… I’m… I’m a protector of happiness a…after all… I… I have the Magical Angel Crystal…”

Her hand reached in the pocket of her dress. He let her, keeping his guard up. God knows what was she about to pull out. He wanted to be prepared.

It was a big piece of quartz crystal with a leather thong wrapped around it. There were beads on that thong. Many colours, mostly pink and white. Between those beads were feathers so garishly pink, it hurt just to look at them. With pleading eyes she thrust that junk in front of his nose.

Katse scanned her face for any signs of deceit, thinking, knowing she can’t be serious. And yet she was. Or maybe she was just that good an actress. Deciding that truth about her intentions wasn’t his top priority, he let her go.

“If I’ll find out you have been lying to me, I’ll kill you. You understand?” he said slowly and clearly.

She nodded, clearly shaken, but also relieved as she took his words as a declaration of trust; or maybe she was just happy because he wasn’t strangling her anymore.

“We have to go this way.” She said, pointing ahead and grabbing his hand.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve heard Aratron talking to you. I know he wants to use the bird-people to turn you into something like himself.”

“How many monsters are here anyway?”

“I think there are five big ones. There are smaller ones too, but I don’t know how many.”

“And what about you?” he asked, remembering all too vividly the horrific transformation of both Aratron and Ophiel.

She stopped and let go of him. He made a step back, shielding himself from any possible attacks, however nothing like that happened. Maureen’s shoulders merely started to tremble. She spun around. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m normal! I’m completely normal! I’m not one of them! They kidnapped me! They killed my big sister! I saw it! They smashed her head against a table! And I ran. But I fell. And when I woke up I was here. I’m not one of them. I’m not!” she cried, her hands balled into tight fists.

That was a problem. She was much too loud. Why were children always so annoyingly loud? Usually he’d dispose of a problem like that, however there was a viable chance that she could find her way around that bizarre building. He decided to put up with her antics for the time being.

“Look. I’m not saying you are. Just calm down, okay. Otherwise they’ll find us for sure. And you don’t want that, do you?”

Maureen nodded. Her tears kept on flowing and her nose was in a dire need of a tissue.

“Your sister died. Do your parents have any other kids?”

“My… my big brother… he… he died from leukaemia about… about half a year ago.”

“Right. You have to be strong for your parents. Imagine if they would lose you as well. How sad they would be. So you have to be a good girl and be quiet so you can get out of here alive, you understand?”

Two eyes, reddish from all that crying, looked up to him, and he tried to smile. The sensation of the corners of his mouth bending into a smile, not a grin, not a cackle, but a smile was quite strange. She didn’t look away. Her eyes appeared to be searching for something. Then a broken sob escaped from her throat, and she flung herself at him, burying her head in his stomach.

It felt awkward. He was ill-at-ease. He wished she’d stop that. He had the feeling that if she won’t stop soon, he’ll have to put an end to her whether she was useful or not.

“The swan died. Aren’t you sad, Gattino?”

“Was I supposed to be sad?”

“I think it liked you. You were feeding it every day. So you should feel sad.”

“Oh. Is that so?”

“Yes, Gattino. Yes, it is. Even if you don’t realise it, I’m sure you are sad somewhere in the corner of your mind. Even though the honchos up at the Central would like to convince you otherwise.”

“Would you be sad if I died, aunt Katarina?”

“Yes. Yes, I would, Gattino.”

“But you have your own child.”

“That doesn’t matter. You are still important to me.”

“If I died, would They be sad?”

“I.. I would lie to you if I told you I know.”

“Then why did they-“

He forced his consciousness to break through that flashback and found the girl looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes”

“You didn’t look so good… what’s your name, sir?”

That question came unexpected. He had to think fast. So he said the first name that came to his mind.

“George. I’m George.”

“I see. But we… we have to run, George.” She whispered, as if she only just remember why she came there.

She grabbed Katse’s sleeve – sleeve, not hand, for which he was vaguely grateful – and ran. The direction seemed to be haphazard. Well, at least they didn’t run into any dead end. Embarrassingly enough Katse soon realised his stamina wasn’t as good as the girl’s. His breath started to shorten. A stabbing pain shot through his side and the wound on his chest felt like it was about to open again. He wanted to rest for a moment, when suddenly a loud thud right above their heads made both him and Maureen slow down and look up at the ceiling.

A long crack ran through its centre.

His spinning mind focused on flight. Adrenaline shot through his veins as usual when escaping from certain death. He wondered what on earth could make such a loud sound, and if it’s such a good idea to sprint like that. His footsteps were quite loud after all. Wouldn’t it be therefore better to stop and play dead?

The next sound, however, cleared any second thoughts he had. A terrifying sound which made him disregard any pain and ache, and speed up.

Beating of wings.

Huge wings.

Heavy wings.

White wings and dark wings. The sharpness of a razor about to cut through his mask.

Oh my god. I’m not wearing my mask. If they come… if they…

His previous alarm turned into a full-blown panic, and he ran not to save his life, but to put as big a distance between him and those wings as possible, disregarding any danger he might crash into. The girl fell behind. He could feel her accusing eyes in his back. He didn’t care. She was a liability anyway.

Then came the roar. Something heavy burst through the ceiling, landing between him and Maureen. He didn’t look back – a fact which most likely saved his life. His head was too full of feathers and claws and blood and bullets and pain and drugs and Changes and dying rattles, his dying rattles, to pay attention to anything else.

When he tripped, it was almost a relief.

God knows on what. Perhaps one of his feet just brushed against the other, causing him to lose balance. It felt oddly liberating, him flying through the air and towards the ground.

Now I’m going to die.

And then he hit the floor.

He shut his eyes as tight as he could and bit his teeth together. If he was to die, than at least his enemies would be denied the pleasure of his screams.

What followed was a moment of perfect peace of mind. There was nothing. He didn’t feel nothing. He was nothing.

And then he opened his eyes, finding himself alone in an empty corridor. For a moment he fought the urge to either cry or vomit. As soon as his feet stopped shaking he got up, and in that moment a screen slid down from the ceiling and Aratron’s face appeared, smiling as affably as before.

“Oh, one thing I forgot to mention, Mr. Katse. Though I couldn’t have known, so perhaps that excuses me… Not everyone from the family agrees that we ought to leave your transition to outsiders. I think one or two might have made up their mind to take the matter into their own hands. So be careful. But I still think of this as my own fault, so have something… something to make you feel better about my intentions.”

The screen went black, and on Katse’s right-hand side a wall slid open. It revealed a room with a table loaded with goodies. There were seven chairs around it, though that was just a meaningless detail. What was really of interest were those plates of cold ham, thinly sliced chicken breasts, blue cheese spread, of delicious grapes with drops of water still glistening on them, segments of pink grapefruit, slices of strawberry and cream cake.

He could already hear those condescending words. Go ahead. It’s not poisoned.

In spite of his expectations, no screens or speakers appeared anywhere. If Aratron was watching him… if he was somehow…

Katse tried to think straight, however that load of food in front of him was much too distracting, especially after such a frightening experience. He needed something good and tasty and nice to convince him that his life wasn’t just about suffering.

He’s conditioning you. Just like they. Just like ‘aunt’ Katarina.

The voice came again, but he was too starved to pay attention.

Wait. You actually enjoy being conditioned by that man. Oh, how funny is that… how low did we sink… are we a whore again now? That’s just so ironic… If only the ISO knew…

Shut up. I don’t enjoy this.

Oh, don’t you? I am you. We are one. Of course I know when you feel joy. And right now you are ecstatic.

It’s the food. I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten in ages.

He could hear that voice’s bitter laugh, though the more he ate, the less distinct it became. And so he ate.

So what. I deserve to be treated nicely as well.

He thought to himself as he sank his teeth into a slab of white meat, and the voice laughed and laughed.

It was a delight. He was eating chicken. And grouse. And duck. And goose. The winged ones. They couldn’t fly anymore. He tore their pectoral muscles with his incisors and canines, crushed them with molars, ate them, relished them, revelled in the taste and in the knowledge that he was eating birds.

How about we slow down? Eating this fast is bad for the stomach.

His common sense objected and this time he was prepared to listen. He slowed down, picking at the meat with his hands, eating a grape every now and then. It was a heavenly feeling. He couldn’t even remember last time he had such a delicious supper. Eating in the presence of others always spoiled his appetite, and on his own he usually didn’t have enough time to eat anything save for cup ramen, as he was surrounded by gigabytes of information reminding him that there was always more work to be done.

No rest for the wicked.

And also no fine meals.

But am I wicked?

He munched down the last grape on his plate, wiped the last bit of gravy with the last crumb of sourdough bread, and stood up. Finally he became aware of the precariousness of his current position.

He surveyed the area.

The entrance was still open, nothing attacked him yet. According to Aratron there were monsters coming after him. Ditto for the Birdbrain Ninja Team. And they were human. What could possibly happen if humans were forced to face a being beyond their experiences?

Rape it. Rape it, to familiarize with it, to establish their superiority over it. And then-…

Kill it. Kill it to rid the world of such an anomaly. Mutants and monsters embody fear, so kill them. Kill them and become stronger.

Of course those bird brains wouldn’t be able to rape something like that, but about the second point…

That could be a good plan.

I just need to act stupid so both groups can meet up. Stupid and predictable. Just like that time at school, when all those teachers thought I’m brainless. I managed to trick that simpleton Hume, so it shouldn’t be a problem to repeat It here. So… what would everyone think a person like me would do at the moment?

Panic and run as fast as possible. And shoot first and then ask questions.

A grin spread on his lips. If the Science Ninja Team saw him now, they would have no trouble recognising him.

When a group of hunters goes after a tiger man-eater, they are always confident in their weapons, skill, and most importantly, in their human reason and common sense. A prey is always expected to behave as prey. A predator is always expected to behave as a predator. Yes.

…yes…

There was a sink in the corner of the room. He washed carefully his hands, paying attention to every joint, every fingernail, and then he washed his face. Even though it hurt. The bruise on his forehead was huge indeed. But he needed to wash away the reminders of that horrible waking dream. He needed to be focused.

Taking a big bunch of grapes, he left the room in search of the exit. That, at least, didn’t change. His priority was to leave, and he had a hunch that he would find the Birdbrain Ninja Team somewhere along the way. Naturally he had no idea where he was, although was quite sure that he was deep under the surface. Wherever that spiral staircase lead. He could feel the weight of all the ground above his head.

Nevertheless was this still a maze?

He wanted to crack the mystery of that house of monsters, but there was something hindering him. He was too loud. Those shoes. Their soles kept clack, clack, clacking against the floor. Frowning, he pulled them off and set them neatly in the direction he chose to go.

Might as well make things clearer.

“Hey… Aratron… you should’ve sent me some wine as well. That meal sure was delicious… but wine would definitely round it off…” he said, snickering.

Who knows if it was coincidence or a good luck? Not that it mattered. The only thing that did at the moment was the fact that not ten minutes later he stood at the base of the staircase he had been looking for.

It was white. Black walls. Were they black before? He couldn’t remember. He brushed his hair back, plucked the last grape off the stem with his teeth and embarked on the long ascend.

Angel Girl White Snowdrop



After a while he began to admire the determination of whoever had built that place. The staircase was enormous. When he looked down, the ground was but a small white circle far away. There was no turn-off. Those stairs existed solely to connect the ‘underground’ with the ‘aboveground’.

If so, then why didn’t they just build a lift? Why bother with something as expensive as these stupidly long stairs? That doesn’t make any sense. Then again I am chased by monsters who want to make me one of them. No point hankering after sense here.

He touched his chest right under the clavicle. The wound was gone, though flakes of dried blood got caught on his fingers. Probably from that injection. He cringed, when he remembered the pain; the feeling of being infused by something alien.

Horrible.

He rubbed his arms.

Suddenly he felt cold. As if whatever was inside of him woke up once he started to think about it.

What if Sousai won’t be able to remove it?

Nonsense. He can do anything.

His hand returned back on the needle mark.

But what if he won’t? What if he’ll find it useful? What if he’ll decide to keep it inside? What if he’ll put us in laboratory? What if they’ll come again? With their scalpels and injections and buzz-saws?

His feet stopped. Fingers dug into the skin, yet no matter how much he clawed, he would never get the poison out. He understood as much. This sudden misgiving put a damper on his spirits, making the surface seem much farther than it was.

Stop it. If you keep on spouting that shit, we’ll never get out of here. Besides. Sousai will never find out.

What if he looks into our head? Hey, ‘George’. You think we can keep a secret then?

Shut up. If I put my mind into it, I can hide it. If I convince myself…

…and we’re really good at lying to ourselves, aren’t we? Well, fair enough. Let us hope it’ll work.

Yes. I’m okay. I’m in control. I can do this.

His feet started to move again. And that was his only luck, because where his left foot was just a second before something incredibly quick flashed through the air.

Every instinct in his head screamed ‘FLIGHT!’. Never the one to argue with instincts, he started to run. There was a wet sound behind his back. Something big plopped on the stars. There was a snapping sound. A gnashing sound. He risked a look behind his shoulder.

There was…

His mind went blank for a moment as it couldn’t comprehend what it saw. A huge thing. Monstrous. Having the shape of a hydra. There was a serene face, white, as if carved from the purest alabaster. A woman’s face, evoking old, Russian Orthodox icons of the Virgin Mother. It was surrounded by a multitude of tentacles. It had insect-like arms. There were eyes bursting out of them, like some strange, misshapen tumours.

The white face opened its eyes. Thin, hair-like threads shot out of them.

Katse sped up. He took the stairs by three, putting his everything into that run. At least if he was to die, he wanted to be killed by human hand. Preferably by someone who knew him, so he could linger in his killer’s thoughts. He was not going to die there. Definitely not. Berg Katse, the illustrious leader of Galactor, decided he was not going to let himself be killed by something out of a John Carpenter movie.

Well, I can always jump…

Yes. There was the option. Finally he allowed his mind to recognise it. If he knew he was mere ninety steps away from the end, he wouldn’t have bothered, but he didn’t know, and so it remained at the back of his head even when he passed the last step and literally jumped into the triangular room.

Someone was already there.

The girl. Maureen. She… was waiting for him. There was determination in her eyes.

“Quick. Get behind me. I’ll protect you.”

That voice was firm. She seriously believed it.

Just as he passed her, she grabbed that silly talisman of hers and raised it above her head.

“Snowdrop princess pure heart power, come to me!” she yelled with all her might. The unexpected potency of her voice stopped even the monster.

Katse was definitely not prepared for what he saw next.

The girl exploded.

She seriously, honestly exploded in a cloud of red mist.

Some odd vines tore through her clothing, wrapping themselves around her slender form. Only after a second he realised it was her skin. Stripes of her skin. They changed into a leotard, a skirt, a short cloak. Underneath them shone something pure, as if Maureen had been dipped into porcelain. She became whiter than white. Of course with the exception of all the blood, dripping from her. Blood and some other substances. The air was thick with their smell. When he looked long enough, he also noticed that what he took for splatters of blood were actually exposed muscles, merging seamlessly with the white stuff.

“I am Angel Girl White Snowdrop and I’ll punish you for your misdeeds, monster!” she shouted while adopting a peculiar stance.

The monster appeared to be about as surprised as Katse himself, for it didn’t make any move during the grotesque show. The mask merely turned to face the girl, cocking first to one side, then the other, as if it wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Maureen… or whatever she was… raised her hand up and inscribed a sigil in the air with her index finger.

“Crimson Angel Garlaaaaand… Punish!”

The finger shot towards the monster and then there was this strange, muffled sound of bursting. Something wet hit the floor and five blood-dripping ropes shot towards the monster. Only they were not just any ropes.

Fuck. That’s her intestines.

He didn’t wait for things to become even stranger and ran as fast as he could. Through the spiral labyrinth into the ordinary one. Taking random routes. Letting instincts chose the best possible route. He ran as far as he could and when he couldn’t go no more, he collapsed on the floor, clutching his side, breathing heavily. Drops of sweat were running down his face. He wiped them away with his sleeve and looked up.

There was a window.

There, right in front of him.

He saw a window for the first time ever since he set a foot into that accursed house. Forgetting all caution, he crawled towards it on his hands and feet, grabbed the window-sill and pulled himself up.

A dark forest spread in both directions in front of him. The sky was red and pink. Sunset? Sunrise? Hard to tell. But it was right there, a piece of the outside.

He put his hand on the glass. It felt cold.

The window had no crank, but there was more than way to leave a house.

Jumping towards the closest chair, he grasped its backrest and swung it in a wide arc. It crashed against the window, shattering. The glass didn’t sustain even a scratch. Could it be just a screen? He touched it again. Let its coldness cool down his hot forehead. Outside he could see trees, swaying gently under an unfelt breeze. Leaves flutter through the air. A plane, flying high above, crossed his field of vision.

That was no projection. He was forced to acknowledge that although he came all the way to the edge of the cage, he was by no means out of it yet. And still. The surroundings gave him hope.

So far the whole labyrinth was an austere, ascetic place to live in. Nothing more than emptiness enclosed by walls, ceiling and floor. But this room with a window had a coffee table, a sofa and two armchairs. Another table with an intricate mother-of-pearl inlay supported the weight of a vase filled with an arrangement of dried flowers. Looking closer at the coffee table, he noticed a shelf under the top. There were several board games stacked in there. Chess, backgammon, checkers, snakes and ladders. Six small dice. A notebook. Casting a glance out of the room, he pulled the notebook out and opened it. At least half of it was covered by scores. Six letters popped up on every page. Most usually a C, an S, an M. There was quite a couple of ‘J’s as well, especially towards the beginning, but none on the last twenty pages. Only few ‘L’s and even less ‘A’s.

Heaving a sigh, he tossed the notebook back.

He was never quite sure why did people have the urge to play party games. He could understand things like solitaire or computer games, when one could only rely on his wits and skills, but party games? Participants always influenced each other. Then there was cheating. A lot of fights broke out over games. People took them much too seriously.

No. He really couldn’t understand why did people play them.




Soon he set off again. He couldn’t stay in one place for too long. One last look from the window told him that the scenery he saw just then was that of a sunset. It was bit hard to part with it, but he had to. That room appeared to have a double ceiling. There were furtive, rustling noises coming from up there. Every now and then fine dust trickled to the ground. How did they track him? Was it by heat? Sound? Movement? He tip-toed out of the room. The rustling didn’t follow, staying in the ‘Game Room’.

“Hey, Aratron. Can you hear me?” he asked.

Again, just like in that feast room under the ground, there was no response. Was he holding his tongue, deciding to watch? Katse had his doubts about that.

He wanted to ask about the monsters. And possibly about the wine. He had a great craving for wine. Muscatel from Moravia, Gewurztraminer from Alsace, Sauvignon from Groot Constatia. He needed a drink. And a rest as well, but first and foremost a drink. He could still see Maureen, exploding into a cloud of blood during her transformation into a mahou shoujo. Magical girl.

How bizarre.

But somewhat apt as well. She obviously drew her inspiration for that transformation from the Mahou Shoujo genre of anime. The word ‘mahou’, as in magical, was composed out of two signs, The ‘hou’ one stood for method, law, or principle. However the first one, the ‘ma’, meant beside a witch also a demon or an evil spirit. Really quite fitting. In a sense she really was a mahou shoujo – the girl who upheld the law of demons. Did she realise it? Was she aware that she was one of those monsters.

Katse chuckled.

She was so pitiful, even he felt sorry for her. Almost.




Just like he did the first time he tried to find a way out of the maze, he held his left hand on the wall. Five minutes later he found another window room.

That one was quite obviously a study. There was a long writing desk, a luxurious, upholstered armchair in front of it. Two paintings hung on the wall. He recognised them as Goya’s works. The first one was ‘A prison scene’, the other ‘St. Francis Borgia Exorcising’. A work he always found quite disturbing. Most walls were hidden behind a multitude of racks full of books. Katse was fond of books. Curious, he crept towards those them and surveyed the collection. What he found there was, without question, quite extraordinary.

Beside many obscure volumes on biochemistry and astrophysics he also found the gems such as the Book of Eibon or von Junzt’s Unaussprechliche Kulte, treatises on the non-Euclidean space from Walter Gilman, a copy of the Voynich manuscript, biography of Asenath Waite, and a book on genealogy by Wilbur Whatley.

The owner of that study was quite the Renaissance man.

His next point of interest was the writing desk.

He actually wanted to go through its drawers in hopes of finding at least a letter opener. Or a gun, if he was lucky. Nevertheless the first thing which drew his attention was a family photo on the desktop, half hidden behind a pile of books, a mug with various pens and pencils, and an electrical pencil sharpener. The photo showed a woman and three children, a tall youth and his two younger sisters. The youngest one was Maureen. On the picture she was perhaps two years younger, her hair shorter, cheeks rounder, but it was unmistakeably her. Her mother held her on her lap and she was positively beaming with happiness. Katse put the photo face-down with disgust.

The first, central drawer held only some useless papers with hand-written notes. Back in the corner Katse found four boxes of pills. Aurorix and Amitriptylin. Another sign how worthless that family was. Feigning happiness while rotting from the inside.

Then he remembered Maureen’s words. Lost her brother, half a year ago. It must’ve been a shock for the family, to lose their firstborn son. And naturally the head of the family had to look as if the world had ended for him. He had to satisfy society’s demands for acceptable emotional responses.

“Yes, it was a horrible shock for me… for us… But I have to go on. I have to be strong for my wife and the girls. Yes, I am seeing a doctor. She prescribed me some meds. Aurorix and Amitriptylin. I wish I could work without them though. Yes, the doctor is quite foxy, I know.”

Imagining the family head’s conversation with his guest, Katse threw the meds back in the drawer. People from this social class were all the same.

After good ten minutes of rummaging through the drawers, he finally found at least that letter opener he was hoping for. Nothing else, just more junk. Calculators, small reference books, a diary. Several very bad pictures drawn by a child’s hand. One of them showed ‘Papa’. As primitive as the painting was, Katse guessed that the male figure was Aratron. And beside him was a female, who wasn’t mama. In fact, Katse was reminded of that crazy woman. Ophiel. Who wasn’t on the family photo.

Shaking his head, he let those paintings fall to the ground.

As he stepped on them, there was a rustle behind his back. He spun around, ready to dive behind the heavy table. It was Maureen. Beaten up badly, she was leaning against the door. She was out of breath and her hands were clutching the stomach. Some soft, crimson-coloured matter hung between them, oozing slowly to the ground.

“Y…you have… t’ escape…” she panted, trying to smile.

To look cheerful and confident and determined, like a real mahou shoujo.

“This is your family, you know. You weren’t kidnapped.” Katse said in a matter-of-fact voice.

His words got deeper than whatever claws which almost disembowelled her, severing the strings of courage which held her up. Her eyes widened in shock though the smile remained on her lips, knees buckled under her. She collapsed, her fingers digging into the blood-soaked fabric.

“That’s… that’s not true… they’re monsters… My real… my real momma and papa are waiting for me somewhere. They are definitely waiting!” she screamed the last sentence and looked up at him. Tears were streaming down her face. Not blood, not some nameless, stinking ichor, but genuine, bona-fide tears.

He assumed he was supposed to feel guilty or something. Too bad there was no time for that. As soon as the echo of her scream faded away, a tentacle burst through the ground some three feet away from him. Cursing the rampancy of a girl’s emotions, he fled towards the only way out, the door. Maureen was still kneeling on the floor, and so he had to watch his footing.

First step.

Second step.

Jump.

For the first time in years he was grateful for the ballet training he received while still at the academy. Landing was spot on. Triumph rushed though his veins, so when the tentacle slammed into his side, it caught him slightly off-guard. He hit the wall hard and saw stars. There was a peculiar sensation, as if his heart sent currents of ice water though his body, but it vanished as quickly as it first appeared.

He rolled away fast enough to avoid having his head crushed by another tentacle, pulled himself up on his feet and run. Or at least he wanted to. A snake-like appendage wrapped itself tightly around his neck and lifted him up. Its owner arrived a moment later. Just as expected, it was that monster he met on the spiral staircase. He clawed at the tentacle, however the grip got only tighter.

Was she trying to damage him enough to trigger his transformation into her comrade? Or was she, perhaps, punishing him for disrespecting her family and hurting her child? For by then Katse had little doubt that this be-tentacled monstrosity was momma MacNab.

“…y…you…a…re… a… bunch…of… losers.” He spat out with his last breath.

Then a burst of light shot through his head and all feeling was gone.

The Joy of Having One’s Life Saved




All feeling wasn’t gone after all. Not even close. He only thought so because the release from that crushing grip was so sudden. He collapsed to the ground, wheezing and gasping for breath. A shadow jumped in front of him to shield him from the monster. Others followed.

“Hey. Are you a-“the Condor cut his question short as soon as his mind put one and one together.

No matter how low the oxygen level in his blood was, this was more troublesome. He really didn’t want to lose his makeshift weapon so soon after its acquisition, but the occasion commanded him to swing that letter opener and hope for the best.

Yet he stopped before it could it.

Katse didn’t like recognising people. It always meant trouble. The chin, the mouth, the nose, those cheekbones he saw under the blue-tinted, beak-shaped visor rang a bell.

"That’s him! That’s him!” he heard a girl’s voice shout.

Fucking little bitch!

He jumped up and threw the letter opener at her. She was hit right between the eyes. She swayed, but he didn’t have the chance to watch her downfall for he was slammed against the wall. He hit his head again and saw black for a moment. The icy feeling was back.

“Ken, watch out!”

The Swan’s piercing yell cut right through his mind, bringing him back to the world of living. The Eagle was about to bash his head in. Fortunately the Swan had been loud enough to prevent that from happening. Spotting the danger, he jumped away. Katse also managed rolled to the side at the very last moment, just before a slime-like matter hit the ground where his head was. Momma somehow managed to get herself stuck to the ceiling. A part of her body melted like wax, pouring down, dissolving everything it touched.

As soon as the Eagle was out of harm’s way, the Swan threw her yo-yo up at the monster and pushed the trigger. There was a big explosion, sending splatters of tissue flying everywhere. One hit Katse’s arm. He peeled it off straight away and threw it aside with disgust. It writhed on the floor as if it was alive, and it left a smarting, blistering burn-mark on his skin. He didn’t linger on it, as the only thought on his mind was the wish to scoot, and hide, and let both fractions annihilate each other. Good thing the Birdbrain Ninjas were still shaken by that monster’s explosion to pay much attention to him, and he would’ve gotten away, if it wasn’t for that kid.

Maureen’s sister.

She stepped out of the shadows, blocking his escape.

The knife he threw was still buried in her forehead.

“You hurt mamma. You hurt mamma. I’ll never forgive you. Never forgive any of you. I’ll feed you to mamma so she can get better.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was the voice of determination incarnate.

While she glared at them, a dull crack came from her body.

Katse jumped back cowering, ready to dodge whatever she would hurl at him.

“What the hell…” Condor’s voice came from behind his back.

He had to smirk. Those idiots had no idea what did they get themselves into.

A dull crack came from her body, and then another, another, and another.

It was the girl’s cervical vertebrae. It stretched longer and longer. That was about the least disturbing part of her transformation. Like in a scene out of Alien, her chest subsequently exploded. The Swan shrieked. The Swallow sounded like he was retching. The girl’s rib-cage prolapsed. Each rib disconnected from the sternum, spreading like petals of a dandelion. As they grew three more feet, one after another snapped and developed joints like spider’s legs. She toppled over. Accompanied by more snapping, her spine adjusted to quadrupedal locomotion. All twenty-four ribs spread out over her back and the head turned to face them. Gone was that frightened expression. What could be seen now was devoid of any intelligence. Eyes rolled up, mouth open, tongue lolling out.

Everyone held their breath, frozen by such a grotesque spectacle.

Within one heartbeat, the monster went from a standstill to attack, using its four limbs to propel itself in the direction of the one, who hurt its mother.

The adrenaline which shot through Swan’s veins sapped the world of all distractions. For a split of a second there was no team and no Berg Katse, no orders, no missions. No grudges or obligations. Not even any colour or shape. There was only her and the rushing death which was about to take her.

She threw herself on her back and kicked both legs up. A cold, slicing sensation went up her thigh and across her upper arm, but the soles of her shoes collided with something soft and hard at the same time. A piercing howl shot through the air, deafening everyone present. It sounded like the bellowing of a huge animal.

The following bang was first thought to be another vocal expression of the girl-monster. It took a few seconds for everyone to realise its cause and effect.

Joe the Condor was clutching his gun. Its barrel was smoking. Twin red spots appeared on the vaguely humanoid head, one on each temple.

The monster staggered.

Katse used this turmoil to run towards the door, but a bone-white appendage closed itself around his throat, and yanked him back. Trying to retain some presence of mind, he grabbed a piece of chair, broken by the Swan’s yoyo’s explosion, and hurled it not towards the monster, but towards the twitching remainders of its mother. Katse was quite sure its monstrous ‘daughter’ would attempt to shield her, though he wasn’t about to wait and watch. He bolted towards the door, and this time he made it out without any obstructions. As he ran down the hallway, he grinned to himself.

Seems even monsters have weaknesses. Just like those stupid-

Surprise interrupted his train of thought. Something thin but very strong wrapped itself around his ankles.

Swallow’s bolos.

“Stop right there, Berg Katse!” someone yelled.

He had no opportunity to answer. The fall was hard and he hit his head pretty bad. There was a certain bitter amusement mixed in his frustration. If he were a normal person, he would be dead several times over due to second impact syndrome. He didn’t pass out, ending up merely stunned for a while. He was distantly aware that someone pulled him up by his collar and threw him over a broad shoulder like a bag of flour.

Taking this opportunity to get some rest, he closed his eyes. A peculiar feeling then nested itself inside of him. Vertigo. As if he was standing at the mouth of a huge abyss, and, just like the proverb goes, the abyss was staring back at him. There was no turning back. Once one was spotted by the abyss, one would never free itself from its world.

“-going on in here. Tell us.”

Returning back on Earth, he realised he had been unloaded. Someone was holding his wrists above his head. There was a gun against his forehead. Not the best of situations.

“How the fuck should I know.” Katse grumbled back.

This was tedious. He could only adjust his strategies if they were on the move.

“Don’t lie to us.” The Eagle grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him. There was an air of badly suppressed violence around him. Damn Gatchaman.

“You hobos brought me down first. How the hell should I know what’s happening here?”

“I don’t believe a single word you say, Katse. You are going tell us exactly what’s happening here. Now.” the Eagle shook him some more. His head hit the wall again. Though he wouldn’t die from it, his cranium felt quite sore by then.

“Or else what? Are you going to shake your fanny at me? Or go and cry to your daddy?”

Ken saw red. His body moved on its own, sucker-punching the mutant.

“Ken…” the Swan started, but she didn’t have enough courage to finish. The Eagle she saw in front of her now was more like the mythical bird Roc. Powerful and terrible.

“Oh good. It feels just like being back at the Syndicate. Come on. Punch me harder. Feels good, doesn’t it? Brandish as many ideals as you want, in the end you just like the violence, don’t you?” Katse asked, smirking viciously.

The Eagle prepared to land another punch, but the Condor grasped his wrist.

“Ken. He’s just trying to provoke you.”

Katse laughed quietly as he was hoisted up on his feet by an irate Condor.

“You’re coming with us. One wrong step and you’ll see how well will you walk without a leg.”

This time he didn’t answer. He didn’t like that feeling of déjà-vu he had when seeing the Condor.

“What’s going on in here?” Ken asked again, this time with more self-restraint.

“How many times should I tell you? I do not have a clue.” Katse sighed.

He decided to play along a little and do as he was told. After all they knew the way back. Once they would arrive at the exit, there were two possible outcomes. One of them included Aratron. None of them included being shipped off to ISO.

“That monster. That looked just like something people like you would do.”

“ Che. Yes, of course. Give me the blame for everything that ever goes wrong on this planet. I don’t use human subjects.”

“Oh, did you suddenly develop human conscience?”

“Hardly. A human being is too big a variable. They’re good enough only for cybernetization.”

“…people like you should be locked up.”

“What makes you believe that I was ever not locked up?”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

There was silence for a minute. Katse licked the blood from his split lip away. It might have been just his imagination, but somehow he thought it tasted a little bit different. Though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where did it differ, the feeling was there. The place where Eagle’s fist connected with his jaw tingled and felt cold.

“What is your connection to those monsters?” asked the Swan quite suddenly.

“I have no idea about who they are or what do they want.”

“But we weren’t attacked until you came in the picture. We were lead here. It seems the pretence was false, so why were we led here and what have you got to do with it?”

“Figure it out yourselves.” Katse answered tersely.

“Why did the girl want us to meet up with you if it wasn’t to save her family?”

“Go back and ask her.”

A gun was shoved between his shoulder blades.

“Answer.” The Condor growled.

“Why won’t you beat me up? Maybe I’ll tell you then.” Katse offered and turned around. Both the Condor and Eagle were glaring at him. Muscles under their spandex, or whatever the hell they wore, were tight, and yet neither acted upon their desires.

Of course. It’s against their morals to do what I tell them. So predictable…

“Any normal guy with ounce of honour would show some gratitude for being saved.” The Condor muttered to himself.

Katse had to snigger. It was so wrong to apply such a sentence to him.

“Gratitude? Me? Do you want a kiss or what?”

“Stop.” The Eagle barked before Joe could say anything offensive.

They arrived at a smallish room. A smallish, perfectly normal room. There was a shoebox there with many pairs wellies, trekking boots, sneakers and sandals. A row of coats and jackets lined one of the walls and in a corner was a stand with several multi-coloured umbrellas. A run-of-the-mill anteroom. There was even a shoehorn.

“What’s going on in here?” the Swan asked.

Indeed. The one thing missing was the exit. No door.

“Is this where we came in?”

“Yes, definitely. We followed our own trail back.” She walked over to the other end of the room and slid her hand across the hard, flat surface of a wall.

The Eagle pressed a button on his bracelet while watching his teammate checking the solidity of the structure.

“G5, this is G1… G5, this is G1, do you read me? … Ryu, answer me. ”

Katse grinned again. He assumed the master of that house would do something like that.

“Good evening. Unfortunately it is a little bit too soon for you to leave my humble home. If you want to leave, you have to do me a small favour first. Kill this person in front of you.” Aratron’s voice rang, loud and clear, from the broadcast system.

That shrewd fox.

“We are operatives of the International Science Organisation. Killing is not our aim. Besides, our order is not to kill this man, but to detain him and ensure he will stand trial for his crimes.” The Eagle answered, sounding very sure of himself.

“Well, in that case we have a little disagreement here. Let me put it this way, operatives of the ISO. Either you kill this person and go, or all of you will die here.”

“We do not give in to demands of criminals. Who are you?”

“Aratron. But… that doesn’t really concern you. I see you have made your choice. Very well. Ophiel, Phaleg. Anteroom. I’m opening the Blue road. Kill one of the ISO operatives to change their minds and capture our guest.”

The ninjas exchanged looks of doubt. How were they supposed to come to terms with a situation like that?

“Creeeeeeeeeeeee”

The strange groaning and creaking coming from everywhere around them made them jump. The walls were shifting. The whole section, which separated the anteroom from the rest of the house, melted down and moved to fill in the doorway, leaving another opening behind. A narrow hallway could be seen. A long shadow twitched on the other side, where the walls were still shifting.

Right. On one side the Birdbrain Ninjas, grotesque monsters on the other. So many options so little time… well, what do they think I’m going to do? Probably hide behind them and let them do all the work. It does sound quite attractive…

And so Berg Katse started to run, elbowing the Swan so she would fall to the ground and distract everyone else. He gave it his all. The other end was approaching fast as was the monster on its other side. It was right behind the corner. For all he knew, in one second he would turn headless. Few feet away from the corner he jumped, and using his right foot simultaneously as a brake and a spring, he propelled himself around the corner.

Ophiel was there. A gaunt, skeletal creature in a lab coat.

He threw himself to the ground and slid between her feet. Behind her was an opening in the wall. Only some seventy centimetres remained from it and even those were disappearing fast.

He wouldn’t make it.

I can do this. I’m in control.

He used his arms to lift himself up and jump on his feet, and then he hurled himself towards the closing doorway. There was an indistinct flash of pain as something grazed his instep, and then he was alone in perfect darkness.

Cut-Off



Disregarding the dull pain in his foot, he kept on going for the next hour without a single minute’s break. Nevertheless his progress was slow. There was a complete lack of light and no switch anywhere. He was forced to assume that Aratron already knew of his position, and yet he had no other choice but to go forward, feeling rather like a lab rat.

Once he became fed up with the tedium of the darkness he sat down for a moment and tried to think about the next course of action.

His last plan ended up in failure. He didn’t manage to get out of the house or to get the Birdbrains killed. Even worse – his heart skipped a beat – they knew how he looked like.

That was bad. That was so bad. Sousai will be furious once he would find out. That was just so bad. He won’t be able to explain this one, even though it wasn’t his fault. Sousai was not interested in excuses.

But why? Why did this happen? Everything was going according to plan. Even though I was shot down, I had a plan for that as well. Although I arranged everything, although I went through every possibility, the Science Ninja Team knows my face and there is… something… inside of me.

But that’s fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. I can still pull through. It didn’t have any effect on me. Maybe because of my different genetic make-up. It didn’t-

Oh, didn’t it now? The blood didn’t taste very kosher, did it?

This made him remember.

The chills.

The vertigo.

The crash. The reveal of his true face. The piece of plexiglass, jabbed into his chest. His inability to reach anyone. His inability to escape. His inability to kill the Science Ninjas. His inability to kill the monsters. His inability to please Sousai.

His inability to keep the world from constantly stomping with its muddy boots on his face.

How did it ever come to this? Why is all this happening to me?

He got up.

“Hey, Aratron. Can’t you at least turn the lights on?” he asked softly.

He needed at least something, even a little thing like light. Or someone to listen to his requests.

Yet the darkness persisted.

“… please, just turn the lights on…”

There was about a minute of silence when he didn’t move an inch, didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe. It was terminated by a thud. He hit the wall with his fist. The thud was followed by footsteps. He decided it was for the best if he moved on. At least his mind would be occupied by counting steps and saying ‘left and right and left and right’.

At least I managed to escape…

He thought to himself, trying to make some light of the situation.

Yes, escape. That’s all you ever do. That’s all you can do. You can’t even stay to face the consequences. Isn’t this sad or what? Why don’t you just stay and do something? Face the opponent? Show some guts?

He wanted to retort with something witty, but a picture of himself, bound in shackles and wearing an orange overall, came to his mind instead. The lukewarm defence of his advocate. The judge, giving him a twentyfold life-sentence. Finally a glint, a crack, a splatter.

…no. Sousai would probably nuke the whole city first.

He thought to himself grimly. In a situation like that, it was obvious to him that Sousai would not want to take any risks, even when it came to his Chose One; not to mention that by the time he would stand trial, he would also become completely worthless to the Syndicate. A liability, fated to be disposed of.

While his mind was preoccupied by the misfortune that befell him, his fingers found an aberration. The wall he held his hand against came to an end. There was a depression, filled out by hard wood. Soon he found a round knob which felt soothingly cool against his palm. Somewhat unexpectedly the door was unlocked as well, so he could let himself in. He didn’t feel happy about it, or relieved. He didn’t feel anything in particular. Just exhaustion.

A Study with a View



When he entered, several lamps were roused to life by motion sensors, illuminating the room with their soft, yellow glow. He closed the door as softly as possible. Though the darkness released him without as much as a fright, he couldn’t be sure there wasn’t anyone lurking there, waiting for him to let his guard down. The Fortune smiled at him – there was a heavy, decorative key stuck in the keyhole. He turned it twice and left it jammed in the lock to prevent any unpleasant surprises. Feeling much safer, he then decided to explore his refuge.

It was another study. Smaller than the previous one, less stately. The emphasis there was definitely on comfort. Maybe a bit too much, for from the looks of it, its denizen decided to hole himself up in there not only for research. There was a single bed which, amidst all the other antique furniture, screamed IKEA. The writing desk and the wall beside it were covered with lots and lots of photos, but Katse’s attention was only attracted to a cabinet in the corner. Inside were neat rows of notebooks, some of them quite old and worn, and, more importantly, a carafe of brandy.

Vague happiness arrived as he emptied the first snifter. He closed his eyes, savouring the heat spreading through his chest and stomach, and downed another. Putting the stopper back in the carafe, he parked himself on the bed and lifted his foot up. The cut was deep, yet it started to contract already.

That was much too fast

Regarding the fact that he spent hours walking on it, and taking in account his two latest Changes, there was no way it would heal this fast.

He placed the whole length of his hand on the foot. The area surrounding the cut was a bit colder than the rest. There was also a faint tingling sensation.

Two more glasses were emptied while his fingers tapped nervously at the headboard. He gave the foot a vexed glance, and tore a piece of his sleeve off to use it as a bandage.

It’s a wound. A deep cut, but otherwise a normal wound. A cut like that has to be bandaged; otherwise it can get infected and inflamed, and it might even turn gangrenous.

There was a small, stainless-steel sink in the room as well. Washing his hands twice, he turned his attention to an ornate, rectangular mirror.

“Smile, Gattino.”

He obeyed the voice of that memory.

The empty snifter slipped out of his fingers, and he jumped back.

His own lips parted only into a pathetic little smile, but his reflection took it a step further, revealing a set of needle-like teeth in a feral grin.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Come on. A mirror doesn’t show anything but reflected light. And you didn’t make that expression. I know it was scary, but it was just a hallucination. We went through hell. And then there’s all this brandy. It was just a hallucination. Just a bad dream. Come on and look again. I assure you, you won’t see anything but yourself.

Although he wanted to step forward, his feet were less than willing.

Come on, now. Aunt Katarina would be laughing at us if she saw. You want to be more competent after all, don’t you? Didn’t Aunt Katarina always teach us that the future is shaped by our immediate actions?

That was true. Aunt Katarina taught him many lessons like that. More often than not there was regret in her eyes, and though back then he didn’t know the reason, he came to understand in time. She was trying to make him into a good, honourable person while knowing full well what he would eventually become. It was pitiful in a way.

Thinking of the times he saw Aunt Katarina open her compact mirror to powder her cheeks or apply more lipstick (usually before she went to meet up with captain Giuseppe) , he made those steps and returned in front of that mirror. His heart beat uncomfortably hard. As if his chest was two sizes too small for it. Aunt Katarina didn’t have any misgivings about the mirror’s reflection. Surely the grin he saw was just the effect of alcohol, fatigue, and the crap coursing through his veins.

Right he was.

The mirror showed nothing but his blank, pale face.

Why was he so stupid and gullible to think something else? After all, he had experienced hallucinations in the past. This was hardly anything new.

He emptied the whole bottle while undressing and thinking how his face seemed somehow less real than the mask with its, admittedly, ridiculous ears and nose. Fortunately the brandy prevented any more troublesome thoughts from entering his head. Not troubling himself with the lack of pyjamas, he slipped under the covers and fell into deep, dreamless sleep.

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The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning (?) was rain, splattering against the windows. He curled up in a ball, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, and watched the rain. He wasn’t just rested. He felt comfortably numb. No fear or embarrassment or anger. The bed was nice and warm. His head felt empty.

After a while he stood up, but only because he noticed a bottle of whisky in cabinet. Glass shards on the floor reminded him of his last night’s fright. The light of the day bleached the memory of all colours. Perhaps it happened millennia ago, perhaps he had just read about it. Truth was unimportant. It had no more influence on the present than a story in a cheap horror schlock.

Taking a dustpan and a brush from under the sink, he meticulously cleaned the floor, making sure to get even the smallest piece of glass. Next he washed his face and got dressed. A new glass was pulled out of the cabinet along with the bottle. A double whisky later the world lost even more of its pointy edges to poke and prod his mind with.

He tried to think realistically about the position he was in and steps he could’ve taken, and he came to the conclusion that staying locked in that room for a whole day would be the best course of action. He needed rest. Not to think, but rather to not think. And to occupy his body, he resorted to exploring the study.

It proved much more interesting than its initial impression.

For example the cabinet. At first it seemed like nothing but a well-kept antique. Ornate glass and lacquered mahogany wood. It stood on a solid wood stand, engraved with patterns of art-nouveau-like blossoms and dragonflies. Knocking at it, he found out it didn’t sound solid at all, so he stuck his fingers in a conspicuously deep ridge running along its edges and pulled. The whole front board came undone, revealing a cooled wine storage. It might have been half-empty, but there were still eight bottles there. Good stuff as well. Moravian Muscatel, French Chablis and Sauvignon, Gewurztraminer from Germany. Pinot from Sicily.

Moving on, he decided to take a closer look at all the photos.

There was Phul, Phaleg, and Ophiel. Aratron. The others were surely Bethor and Och. It was strange, to give such normal people ridiculous nicknames like that. He knew that Phul’s real was Maureen, but that was about it.

A younger Aratron was hugging his wife, both wearing ski outfits, both looking jarringly happy.

Tiny Maureen carried by her older brother.

Three children – Maureen, Phaleg and Och – sitting around a fireplace, holding sticks with sausages. Maureen’s nose was black with soot.

Aratron, carrying both girls in his arms.

Och with his mother, both in trekking outfits.

Phaleg proudly showing a fish she caught.

Och showing a diploma.

There were many, many photos like that. Katse couldn’t really believe them. They all felt like fabrications, like something out of a Hallmark movie. He knew they were real, but still…

…he had to question their genuineness, knowing what had become of the family.


Next he moved onto the writing desk. The most important outcome of that ‘inspection’ was food. He found several biscuits and waffles, some dried fruit, two packets of crisps, and a round pack of mango-scented grape sugar. And three packs of Amitriptylin, and two packs of Aurorix.

Gathering all food on one pile, he downed another double whisky, stepped in front of the window and did some yoga to stretch his muscles. Though his ribs and chest were all healed, they still felt a tad stiff. It was a nice, peaceful feeling, to practise yoga like this. While doing that he discovered another quirk of the room. Although the study windows were as shatter- and explosion-proof as anywhere else in the house, there were two small speakers in the wall, faithfully transmitting sounds of rain and wind from the other side.

Then, as he was doing the crane, he realised. Living in a ridiculously armoured house like that, it must’ve created a tremendous strain on the minds of its inhabitants. After all, you don’t install advanced security like that without a reason. Was everyone constantly looking over their shoulders, exchanging strained smiles to convince each other that there is nothing to be afraid of? What could’ve possibly been the reason? It would make sense for a person like him to demand such level of security. And did it actually even matter? No, of course it didn’t.

Early in the afternoon he ate three of the waffles, washed his face, downed the rest of the whisky and had a short nap. Again no dreams. This time when he woke up, he had no need to stay in bed. He sat up and ruffled his hair.

“Aratron?” he asked for no good reason.

Still no answer. Could it be that he was truly alone?

He came to the window and saw, to his mild surprise, a gorgeous view of the lake. Its waters were stirred by all that rain and wind. On both its banks the mountains rose up, steep and inaccessible, their tips devoured by the low-hanging nimbostrata. There were no other houses and no road, only untamed wilderness, sneering at human presence.

Therefore he was on the side of the house, opposite to the exit.

Well, not that it matters, since the exit disappeared and all…

Abandoning the yoga, he tried some basic ballet moves. Those were great for flexibility. He used a tall table, bearing a single flowerpot of freesias, in lieu of a barre. It felt so long since his last battement... it goes without saying he refused to practise anywhere near Galactor, even in his female form. Galactor and ballet? That went together like chilli con carne and lavender pannacotta.

Hoping that no one was watching, he put his feet in first position and went first into demi plié, then lower into the grand plié. His tendons were stiff, but not enough to keep him from bending his hip joints, knees and ankles the way he wanted.

He smiled. He wasn’t that rusty after all, and so he did the battement développé a couple of times, piano music playing in his head. As it felt quite satisfying, he followed up with the attitude, bending his torso lower and stretching his left leg higher and higher, until he reached, after several failed attempts, the arabesque penchée position. Too bad he didn’t have any pointe shoes there. Or any other shoes for that matter. He couldn’t do the arabesque en pointe; nevertheless the penchée-one was quite the victory and he felt accordingly triumphant.

In the past he sometimes mused how odd it was, his fondness for ballet. He liked watching it and practicing, and often spent hours behind a drawing board, designing new deadly mechs, while listening to Coppélia, Giselle, Swan Lake or La Sylphide. Well, there was one thing he avoided like hell, and that was the tutu. How ridiculous would that be? Berg Katse in a tutu?

One of the reasons he found pleasure in ballet was because not many people could do things like that. There were thousands of little ballerinas, but how many of them could still do the pas de chat, attitude en pointe or grande jette twenty-five years later?

After one more arabesque penchée, he returned to the bottle, filling the glass to its brim and emptying it in one gulp. No matter how fond he was of classical dance, he would never be anything but a filthy terrorist to the world. Even if he would abandon each and every one of his violence-related habits, pass the exams for the Viennese ballet troupe, and dance the legendary thirty-two fouettés en tournant, he would still be a terrorist in the eyes and annals of the ISO, the UN, Galactor.

How sad.

He looked at his feet. Perfectly normal feet. Nothing evil about them. He wiggled his toes. Perfectly normal toes. Nothing evil about them either.

It was the same for him. He would never see the ISO and the UN as something else than enemies. Even Galactor was something he could not trust, seeing how many assassination attempts he had to endure every month.

In a way it was… it was a little bit like dance. Like ballet. For example the Swan Lake. Odette would always be Odette, Odile always Odile. Those roles were not interchangeable. Each was much too unique, carried its own set of rules, advantages, disadvantages.

Would you want to become Odette, or Siegfried regarding your current gender, if everyone suddenly suffered from amnesia? Would you actually be able to pull it off?

Katse massaged his temples. This was no good. He was starting to get all tired again.

Rain fell without a single break. It blurred and softened the view of the woods, turning it into a scene out of a fairy-tale.

He sat behind the writing table and drank some more. Odette, Odile, Siegfried or von Rothbart, it didn’t matter. Unless he danced his own part with utmost care, he would end up dead, plummeting down the trapdoor of history. Out of world’s sight, out of world’s mind, without a single person knowing he was ever there.

“Smile Gattino.”

It was obviously no good to sit idly. Although the plan was to continue his journey with the arrival of morning, if he were to sit down and do nothing but drink, all that bad stuff would return straight into his head and muddle his judgement even more than it already was.

Searching for any kind of distraction he let his eyes travel around the walls. There were two paintings. Hopper’s Early Sunday Morning to his left, Caspar David Friedrich’s Reef by the Seashore to his right. Peaceful scenes. He liked them. Especially since there was not a single human being depicted on them. Nevertheless he was too restless to appreciate visual arts.

Running out of ideas, he decided to go through the drawers again and see what can be found there. The first raid was all about food after all. There were so many papers and notebooks in there they all had melted into one single pile of boring stuff in his mind.

But that was then.

He pulled out the first notebook, which came under his hands, and paged through it.



16th April
It’s still all the same. I had to see the doctor again so she would prescribe a new batch of Aurorix and Amitriptylin. Cornelia hates me even more for that. She doesn’t even look at me anymore. Today I went to fetch an anatomy book from the library and she was there. As soon as she saw me, she literally fled out of the room. The girls as well. I don’t know what she told them, but the way they look at me… as if I was some kind of a stranger. I just have to hope that time heals all wounds.

19th April
Cornelia saw me just as I was about to take my pills. She knocked them out of my hand and threw my glass of water away. Then she went completely hysterical at me. She said I’m a traitor. She said I’m trying to forget about Josh. But I’m just trying to live with it. What else can I do?

21st April
Today. Found it in one of the books I borrowed from the university. I couldn’t believe when I read it, so I did all the equations myself. It was correct. If I manage to complete it…

No. I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high so soon.

22nd April
Met Sue today. Offered her if she wants to drink some tea with me, but she excused herself, saying she’s got stuff to do. When I asked her what stuff, she avoided my eyes and ran. Just like Cornelia. Maureen’s a little bit better. Or worse. Depending on the point of view. She decided that Josh never died. That he’s still at the hospital. She got angry at me for not going to see him. What was I supposed to say?

25th April
I realised something. Why does everyone look at me with same eyes. They need an object to blame. It was nobody’s fault that Josh came down with leukaemia. It wasn’t my fault. I’m not an oncologist. Even if it was discovered early, I doubt that it would do much good. Josh’s health was always bad. Even as a baby… I remember when he was born. So tiny… those little hands. They way they closed around my thumb. And then his baby-talk… and here I thought he was improving. Damn it all. I understand that Cornelia and everyone else need someone to blame if they don’t want to break, but sometimes it’s just so hard. I don’t complain. I never get angry with them. I just wish they would understand.

31st April
Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Yes, I knew he was ill. He was my son. I knew the moment it started to eat away on him; and I also knew that no matter what I’d do it would be futile. What was I supposed to do? Drag him over to some hospital? Stuff him full of pills and injections so his hair would fall out? Let him stay in that place with the knowledge that he was dying? I did the only merciful thing I could. For him and for everyone else. God. I knew it for so long. I did everything I could for him. So he would enjoy the remainder of his life. I took the knowledge of his impending death and locked it within myself. The more he laughed, the worse I felt. But I laughed just as well.

4th May
Cornelia stays awake until the wee hours of morning now. I understand. What else can I do? I grabbed my stuff and moved to my private study. I always felt best in here. There’s a view of the lake. I can work undisturbed. I need to complete the formulas. It’ll be a bit difficult to get all of the gadgets together, and I’ll probably have to build something on my own. But that’s alright. I keep on having nightmares, so I’m trying to sleep less and work more.

5th May
I handed my resignation to the head doctor. He didn’t raise any fuss. I was grateful for that. He said I ought to spend some time with my family. I was of the same opinion.

6th May
The doctor was worried about me for some reason. She came over for dinner. I couldn’t really send her away since it was already quite late. She wants to raise my doses. I didn’t argue. After all, she knows better. And I don’t have the strength to argue anyway. I just need to concentrate on the project.

14th May
By chance Agatha discovered my findings. I was extremely anxious about her reaction, but to my surprise not only did she understand, she actually wanted to take part as well. I was really happy to have someone who understands.

16th May
Worked together with Agatha. Even with the two of us, it’ll take a while.

17th May
When I turned in, Agatha asked me if I needed anything else. I got the point, however I still love my wife and I respect Agatha too much to use her as a replacement.

21st May
Since two days ago I’ve started to have strange dreams. Incredibly vivid. Like real. Agatha reckons I shouldn’t drink while on meds. Haven’t spoken to Cornelia for two weeks now. But not because I haven’t tried. She won’t listen to me.


…and so forth, and so forth. A detailed description of one man’s downward spiral into despair. Unfortunately the diary was too tight-lipped about the object of Aratron’s experimentation. Of Alden’s experimentation. There were infrequent mentions about the increase of his doses, and less and less mentions of his family, which, as he himself wrote, decided to give him all the blame so they could live on. Unfair? Yes. Then again they were a family and hardly anything is fair amongst relatives.

He threw the notebooks back in the drawer and emptied yet another glass. When he stood up, his legs were quite wobbly, so he wobbled over to the bed and shut the world out.

Peaceful Living Beyond Styx



A deafeningly loud crack of a thunder woke Katse up like a jolt of electricity.

…Another storm?

He thought to himself, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Morning came; blue darkness was yet to disappear from among the trees. It was irritating that he didn’t know what date it was. How many days had passed since the crash? How many mornings?

Sousai was going to be so pissed…

What if he’ll replace me? No, nonono. That’s impossible. There is no one else. Everyone screws up.

You make it sound as if you never do.

Katse frowned. It was too early for uncomfortable thoughts like that. In fact, any time of the day was ‘early’.

Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I?

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and went over to the windows. Heavy, purplish clouds swallowed the highest mountain tops and the surface of the lake resembled a raging ocean the way its waves crashed against stray boulders lining its edge. Stately, gnarled trees were bending under the force of the wind as it passed though the valley. They were almost at their breaking point. In fact, Katse was vaguely surprised they haven’t snapped already.

As he turned away from the window, another lightning spread through the sky like the roots of some celestial plant. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and the thunder followed. This was a completely normal storm. It wasn’t caused by any weather-altering mechanism of Galactor’s. No one was coming to help.

Katse bit his lip.

Did no one track his signal? Didn’t anyone notice it disappearing above… wherever he actually was? Why wasn’t anyone looking for him yet? One would think that at least the Devil Stars…

Well, time to go.

He heaved a mental sight and began to look around for anything of use. There were some clothes stashed under the bed he decided to use. Trousers, shirt, and a jumper. Wearing them, he felt more at ease than wearing that strange attire, which made him look like a member of some corny cult.

Under the table was a leather satchel full of some forms and CDs. He flipped it upside down and packed his stash of food and two bottles of wine in it, assuring himself that he can always toss it aside in case something would decide to chase him around.

Another lightning split the sky apart. He unlocked the door and left it open, since the corridor was as black as before. His worries that he’d spend another hour wandering around in the darkness prove to be unfounded. Two minutes, and he came across the next room, the library. It almost felt too easy. There were no crazy architectonic elements, no blind alleys, no mazes. Just like a normal house, if it wasn’t for the windows. Thinking he can’t lose anything by trying, he gave the glass a good kick. It didn’t even shake from the impact.

Being rather fond of books, he briefly surveyed the collection. Long enough to see what it contained but no to make him think he had been slacking around. All books were neatly divided into categories, each organised in alphabetical order. There was no fiction, only science. Philosophy, physics, chemistry, astronomy, genetics, medicine, history. Polished wooden shelves held books still smelling of printing ink as well as volumes bound in leather or with swirly patterns on their stiff paper covers. Actually, it might have been organised a tad too neatly. All spines were in a perfectly straight line. Not one deviated even by as much as a millimetre.

Katse pushed away the mental image of Aratron/Alden as a broken man, obsessively organising all those books while hiding away from his estranged family, and obeyed his urge to gaze out of the window again.

Perhaps it was the weather what kept his rescuers at bay.

Well, they should’ve used armoured vehicles.

He grumbled to himself, frowning. It felt deliciously liberating, to have someone he could be angry at.

Are you really sure you want to be saved? Are you sure you won’t be sent to the medical research centre? Perhaps the number one-o-five one?

He hit the window lightly with his fist. The worst thing was, he couldn’t really deny this possibility. Well, there were steps he could take, before Sousai would find out. For example, he could tell the medical staff to rewrite every result unless they wanted their whole families to be slaughtered. There was always a way. Before Sousai would find out.

Before his trip to 105.

Turning away from the window, he took another look at the library. There was a gorgeous transcription of Edinburgh university lectures on Kant’s philosophy. Going a bit further, he found an even more beautiful find; a complete collection of Locke’s writings. He pulled one of the volumes out. It was leather and silk-bound, dated 1913. He smelled the pages and lost himself in the scent of the paper, evoking many pleasant memories. If only he wasn’t forced to be Rothbart…

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On he went.

The next room was a music room.

Putting the bag down and rubbing his stiff shoulder, he waltzed over to the Petrof grand piano, sat on the stool, opened the lid, and pulled down the green felt cover. His fingers on polished keys felt so right, he couldn’t resist playing some tunes.

Rachmaninov’s Vocalise.

Ciurlionis’s Prelude in F-minor.

The Largo from Shostakovich’s second piano sonata in B-minor.

One of his earlier caretakers convinced Sousai to let him take music classes, saying it would do good to his eye-to-hand coordination. Which it did, in a way. That person was also an avid pianist, forced to retire due to arthritis. He put his young charge through training from hell. Back then he had been quite angry at that grouchy old man, but now, years later, he had to smile when he remember the time spent in front of the Bösendorfer. He had to smile even though he knew that man was long dead, expiring under mysterious circumstances involving the presence of carbon-monoxide in a house completely devoid of any devices capable of producing it.

That confirmed the universal truth that humans were mortal but if the legacy they left behind was art, it would outlive them by generations, even centuries. The same rule could be applied to violence, he thought to himself, smiling bitterly.

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The room next-door from the music room could be probably described as a Flower room. With a capital ‘F’, as it really teemed with those things. Patterns of the carpet, curtains and wallpaper had a delicate floral design, there were dozens of framed Koeh’s prints on the wall along with arrangements of pressed blossoms. Dark wood of the furniture was decorated with an exquisite mother-of-pearl inlay in shape of chrysanthemums; there were vases of dried and preserved flowers, giving off a faint, nostalgic scent.

He didn’t want to stay for a very time in that room. It was much too easy to imagine Maureen and her sister dropping by every now and then to fawn over the décor. Maybe they occasionally borrowed one of the books on botany or horticulture and paged through it, stopping once they discovered an especially beautiful specimen. Or they could’ve brought binoculars, open the book at the section of conifers, and attempt to name all the trees in the vicinity. All that while they still had delicate hands and nimble feet and not a single tentacle.

In fact, he could almost hear their giggling. He left the room and tried to forget about it. It was easy, since he wasn’t exactly a flower-lover. He cared neither for bright, fragrant blossoms, nor for little girls. The latter part made him better a better person than many people he knew.

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A round table, ten chairs with crimson velvet upholstery, a cabinet with wine glasses, a scarlet carpet. No one of that was remotely odd, and so that room could’ve been easily passed off as a normal drawing room. If it wasn’t for the mirrors, lining every wall.

Like in a dance studio.

Without thinking it through, he attempted to raise himself on the attitude en pointe even though he didn’t have any shoes.

It worked.

He gave his toes an incredulous look. Then his mind decided to remind him of the fact that his foot got cut. Sitting down on a round tabouret, he undid the makeshift bandage. The wound was fine. In fact, it was as good as healed, only a faint red line betraying its presence. He slid his hand up and down the sole, and noticed for the first time the oddly bulging veins. He tried his other foot. Skin there was smooth. What did it mean? And did it actually mean anything?

He heaved a sigh.

It’s okay. I’m in control. I just need to recover my mask and get out of here. They’re trying to break me, but they don’t know who are they dealing with. If I ever cross ways with them, there’ll be a proper, old-fashioned massacre. I just need that mask.

Yes, just that mask.

Its absence was starting to pull on his nerves. Although it was clumsy and too bright and obvious, after all those years he only felt safe when it covered his face. It was like his second nature. Like his second being. A twin personality, perhaps.

A shield.

He touched his cheek.

Suddenly he couldn’t think of his rescuers or assailants anymore.

One step after another, he shrank back. He felt ill. Exposed. That icy feeling returned. It coursed through his veins, reaching down to the tiniest capillary. No matter how hard it tried, his mind just couldn’t make sense of this anxiety. Where did it come from? Why was he so afraid? What was he so afraid of? There was no danger in the room. No attackers. Nothing alive.

His back hit the door.

His heart was beating rapidly. Mouth was dry. Hand kept rubbing the uncovered face.

Why isn’t anyone coming?

His eyes, his dilated pupils found his own reflection. It was right there, across the room. Of course it was, but until that moment he hardly paid any attention to it. It showed the face of a man scared to death. Pallid skin, grey lips. Hair dishevelled. This was not something he should’ve seen. This was not something anyone should have seen. Why? Because it was so easy to destroy that face, even more so when it showed such fear.

His hand closed around the handle.

If you run away now, you will lose everything.

There was a long, pentagonal vase on the table with two long poppies made of coloured glass. Grabbing the vase, he flipped it over and stopped only long enough to see the flowers shatter. Then he came over to the first mirror. He tried to look determined and failed miserably. The vase arched through the air. The frightened man with the stupidly effeminate face shattered instantly in a billion pieces. All of them did.

How surreal and singular. There was a perfectly clean and neat room whose walls were fringed by a line of shattered glass. It almost looked as if it was meant to be there – as a part of the interior. Only those two broken flowers seemed out of place.

Identity Fission



Strolling through next several rooms, he regained some calm, though not to the degree he felt in the music room. He couldn’t stop frowning, and every time he encountered any reflective surface, he felt compelled to turn away. The sight of his own face reminded him of his vulnerability and how he can’t deal with it. If he were in his female form, it would’ve been different; however there was too big a chasm between what he was taught and how he was treated as a girl and as a boy. A girl had it fairly easy. She was expected to behave like a lady and was praised for it. That girl who went to all those fancy schools, won all those prices, and got all those diplomas. Met all those people and befriended them, even though she never let anyone too close to her heart. That girl, who was comfortable around others and around herself.

A boy, however…

A boy with the features of a girl.

A boy, meant to be treated as a lab animal.

A boy, fated to become something different.

A person, removed from the mundane world of everyday, often brought out the worst in people. The few of them, who tried to bring him back to reality of honest folks, were fools who would never be forgiven. He remembered them all. Their faces, their families, and how their faces and the faces of their families looked once they were punished for their foolishness.

“Yurusenai. Yurusenai. Yurusenai. ” He whispered to himself as he entered the next room.

There was a big, flat-screen TV with a huge, sky-blue sofa in front of it. A red blanket laid folded over one armrest, a puffy, white cushion leaning against the other.

Ah, a good idea…

The thought of a rest filled him with a vague sense of relief. It would definitely not take care of any problems, nevertheless it would put a welcomed distance between him and them.

There were no clocks anywhere, but the world behind shatterproof windows was already dark. He felt weary. Sitting down on the sofa, he pulled a bottle out of the bag, opened it, and drank long, thirsty gulps straight from it. Half was gone when he pulled away. His hand automatically grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. Black screen showed white noise. Next channel was the same. Only the sixth differed, displaying an empty corridor. Wondering what that was all about, he left it on and waited.

And surely, a moment later the Bughouse Ninjas came in the view. He smirked when he saw their tattered wings. That felt good. Like good old times when he would gloat at them, and in turn they would swear that one day they would tear that mask of his off.

Suddenly the Swan cried out and stumbled back, clutching her side. Red dripped from between her fingers. Another shot. The visor of her helmet shattered and she screamed as shrapnels dug into her face. Gatchaman caught her and even with his helmet on, Katse could clearly see his shock. The attacker came in the view a moment later. He was holding a handgun. Cackling. Katse was treated to a high definition display of Berg Katse.

The bottle fell from between his fingers.

“No.”

He leapt forward and clutched the frames of the television.

“No. Nonono. That’s not me. That’s not me. I’m here. That’s not me.” He repeated over and over.

“Katse, you bastard! We saved your life!” Gatchaman yelled.

The Condor hurled himself at the other Katse, throwing his feather shurikens. The other Katse dodged and spat out explosives hidden in his cheeks. The Condor escaped in the nick of time.

“You fools! You think you saw me? You think I would ever be so stupid as to show my real face in front of you? Nambu is to naïve, to send dumb children to fight his war!” the other Katse exclaimed and laughed some more.

Katse’s knuckles went white.

“No, that’s not me. Not me. Not me…”

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the other Katse also kept the same explosives in his cheek. That his laugh was the same staccato as his own. And that he…

…and that he appeared to be better at his job.

“You all shall die in here. I will kill you just like I kill your father, Gatchaman!”

What? Gatchaman’s father?

Gatchaman let out an enraged scream and jumped, his every muscle screaming killing intent. Katse merely jumped back and out of the view.

No. No, the impostor Katse jumped back and out of the view.

The screen switched itself off, no explanation given.

No. No. That’s not the truth. That must be a fabrication. A mistake. I’m not there. I’m here.

He searched frantically for a mirror.

He was here, not there.

He was Berg Katse, not that person.

His hand slid over his face. There was no mask.

“And no one knows that I exist. I could die here and no one would ever know I was here.”

With a sinking feeling he remembered what that pesky voice inside of his head told him.

“No, that’s not right. Even without the mask, I’m Berg Katse.” He said out loud and his hands were shaking.

“Because if I’m not Berg Katse, then who am I? I’m definitely someone. I’m here.”

Hagith.

A voice rang, loud and clear, in his mind.

“Nooo!” he screamed and punched the black screen with his fist. Pieces of glass cut through the smooth skin of his fingers and hand, but he didn’t feel a thing. At least not from the physical point of view.

“No… I’m Berg Katse… I’m Sousai X’s Chose One. I’m… I’m in control…” he said in a low voice and sank to his knees, putting his head against the broken screen. His eyes found the bottle he dropped. There was still some wine left inside. He finished it off, opened the next bottle and drank it whole with a desperate urgency. Then he rose up on his feet and ran out of the room.

He had to find it.

Either his mask or the Science Ninjas. He was Berg Katse. He wasn’t someone, whose existence could be erased by a simple theft of a mask. He was Berg Katse. Once he’ll find the Science Ninjas, they’ll beat him up. They’ll hurt him maybe close to the point of death. Just like they would hurt Berg Katse. They will not kill him though, since, after all, they’re the good guys. They will spout things like: “If we killed him, we would be no better.” And “We have to bring him back to the ISO so he can stand trial.”

And the Condor will be all passive aggressive, saying that that bastard doesn’t deserve it.

The Condor.

Berg Katse stopped for a moment. Pieces of jigsaw clicked into one place. Who knows why he didn’t realise it before? Was it denial? Guilt? Fear?

The chin, the mouth, the nose, those cheekbones – he finally saw them not as separate features, but as components of a real picture. A picture, which was basically a younger version of Giuseppe. The one, who possessed geniality and certain gentleness although he was a high-ranking Galactor officer. The one, who once called Gattino a shrimp. The one, who brought little Giorgio ever so often to the shooting range, teaching him how to be a proper man. The one, who, several years later, asked a bigger, almost adult Katse about the location of servers, hosting Galactor personal databanks.

The husband of Aunt Katarina.

Katse let out a cry which filled the hallway better and deeper than any thunder ever could.

He had to get out of there. Even if the other side contained nothing but danger, he had to get out of there. The other side would certainly see him for who he was. It would recognise him as Berg Katse, the leader of Galactor, because that’s who he was. Even without the mask. That’s who he was. He was in control. He was Berg Katse. There could be no mistake.


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Right in the centre of the maze, a girl strode in to face a man. She carried a heavy load. A mass of flesh, a broken mask. Tentacles sprawling everywhere. They slithered up her arms, looped around her neck and thin waist. It had been a while since they stopped moving. This cessation of activity woke up uncomfortable stirring somewhere inside the girl’s very being.

“Aratron. She doesn’t move anymore. Fix.”

The man looked up from his paperwork and put his pen aside.

“I’m sorry, but she can’t be fixed.”

“Why? You fix.”

“When we lose more than fifty-five percent of our body mass, we case to be. You know that. I told you before. Bethor lost seventy percent. It was a miracle she held up for so long.”

“You fix.”

“As I said, I can’t, no matter how much I would like to.”

“Elef-Kehe-Eynayim?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“…yes. Yes, Elef-Kehe-Eynayim should be able to help us. But he won’t be able to do so unless those strangers are taken care of.”

“Strangers.”

“Yes. The ones in the bird-shaped masks.”

“Bird masks. Strangers. Until then, no momma.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Hagith?”

“Ah yes. Hagith. Well, Hagith needs your help as well, But Hagith is confused. You ought to go and lend a helping hand. The people in the bird-shaped masks were supposed to help, but they are too weak and their reason is gone. That’s why they hurt Bethor. You know that no one would ever want to hurt her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And Hagith is too weak as well. Go there and help him. He doesn’t realise he needs our help, so we’ll have to, regrettably, use some force. Be a good girl and get rid of the people in the bird-shaped masks and bring Hagith here. If he will show any resistance, cut off his legs. He won’t die from that.”

“Then momma is better.”

“Yes. I’ll fix her.”

“Phaleg is going then.”

“Good luck.”

She put the severed head of her mother’s gently on the floor at Aratron’s feet. Then she turned around and left, having a new purpose to drive her.

Aratron picked the head up and assimilated it into his own structures. He had to lie. Once any of them was dead, nothing could bring them back. Phaleg was the only one he would lie to. She was too attached to her mother. It didn’t matter that both of them had lost their form, the bond remained. He knew that. Even though he himself became something greater, occasionally he still felt a little bit jealous.

Phaleg wouldn’t move for anyone but Bethor.

He knew as much even from before, when she had been Susannah MacNab. He was just in the process of converting Cornelia when she came in; and she didn’t take the sight very well. She became so agitated, he was forced make steps. Unfortunately, this action proved to have long-term consequences. Unfortunately, a part of Phaleg’s intellect was lost due to the trauma. He overestimated his strength. Bad luck. He didn’t feel especially guilty about it; however he did regret that missing piece of her mind. In his opinion, the more complex the mind, the higher intellect, the better the result. If he had known then what he knew now, he would’ve killed her and then start the conversion. Just like the boy, Joshua. Just like Och.

The light of fluorescent tubes was gleaming on the white surface of the mask. The only thing that remained of Bethor. He picked it up. Its edges were stained by black spots. He had to frown. It came as a bit of an uncomfortable discovery, that they could be killed so easily. He thought to himself that he should’ve seen it coming. After all, he did some experiments on the Reyqmavet, the mostly useless samples he converted out of pure necessity. Foolish humans who came knocking on his splendid abode. A postman, a teacher from Phul’s school, a couple of Phaleg’s former classmates. Since it was out of necessity and not his free will, they became basically human-sized versions of sea cucumbers with as much intelligence and use as one would expect.

With the mask in his hand, he descended the spiral staircase, nearing step by step the heart of the house, the proverbial ground zero, the point of origin. He decided it was time to speed things up.

Surmises



“I can’t believe we’ve been tricked by that bastard again.” Joe snarled.

They found a first aid kit in one of the rooms so Jun could dress her wounds. She lost quite a lot of blood, but her guardian angel must’ve been working overtime, for pieces of her broken visor didn’t cause any damage to her eyes. Just her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were badly scratched. Katse’s bullet only grazed her side, and though it felt as sore as it looked, none of her vitals were hit.

“I’ll get him for hurting oneechan.” Jinpei muttered darkly. His face was chalk-white as if it was him who got shot. “But I wonder who that other guy was.”

“No idea. Could be one of Katse’s lackeys.” Joe said, chewing on a feather shuriken.

“Or he’s playing with us and the two are really one.” Ken theorized, staring intently at his hands. Blood, staining his gloves, made their blue colour look much darker, almost black. He really wanted to wash his hands, but Jun was in the bathroom now. He carried her in there himself.

“I don’t think so.” Joe muttered.

“Huh?”

The other two looked at him.

“He could’ve stabbed me, but didn’t. Don’t you think it’s odd for him, not to use an opening? Besides. There was something in his eyes… I’m not really sure, but… they looked distant.”

“Well, he hit his head.”

“From what? We did destroy the mecha, but he got away in that damn pod.”

“So what do you think is going on here?”

“I think it’s a trap. This is some undercover Galactor research lab where they fuck around with genetics. Sue, or whatever her name is, was meant to lure us further in. Didn’t you notice she was kind of too eager to show us the way? And then they used that girly-faced bozo as a bait.”

“Yeah. He might be one of the scientists. After all, he was wearing white.”

“…and Katse never shows his face even among his allies. Remember Ruuman?” Jun’s voice came from the bathroom.

She limped out, looking surprisingly well apart from her pallor. Her helmet was intact, though there were probably few inches missing from a less important part of her uniform – an advantage of the birdstyle.

“Oneechan, are you alright?” Jinpei exclaimed, rushing to his sister’s side. She smiled at him.

“Yes, I’m better.”

“Really?”

“Come on, Jinpei. We’re ninjas, aren’t we? He just nicked me.”

“But really, Jun. Are you okay?” Ken asked, gazing straight in her eyes. She looked away. Her cheeks felt suddenly quite warm.

“Yes, I am.”

“If you feel dizzy, tell us so we can stop and have a break.”

Now her cheeks felt much hotter, but for a completely different reason.

“Let’s go and kick some butt.” She said coolly, making Joe grin.

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Katse rushed down the only hallway opened up to him. This part of the house, which contained actual living premises instead of an illogical maze of nearly empty rooms and corridors, had only a single way to move along. He tried every door he came across in hope that one of them would lead out. Although he initially welcomed it, now, after the appearance of his double, the normality of this place started to suffocate him. He had to get out.

Five minutes before he arrived at a staircase, a strange kind of pain begun to spread from under his clavicle. It was a rather odd sensation. More discomfort than actual pain. Like his veins were being clogged by cold mud. However since he had more important things on his mind, he didn’t let it slow him down.

Then came the stairs.

Wide, shiny steps, alternately black and red. Ornate silver balustrade composed of thin, intertwining sprouts, crowned by a dozen of crystal lamps. A structure like from a fairytale. A structure meant to bridge worlds.

He took the first step, holding onto the railing. It felt warm under his hand. He knew that nothing good is waiting up there, but going back was out of the question.

The first half of the staircase was behind his back, when he got that headache. It filled his cranium with a high-pitched whine, which gradually blotted all his senses out, one after another. He had to sit down and wait for a while. As he clutched his head, he realised that somewhere was something stirring. He could ‘see’ it within that whine. Shaking his head sheepishly in an attempt to regain clarity, he got up on his feet and walked on, leaning against the railing. He advanced slowly and cautiously, not wanting to be ambushed by some arachnid octopus monster.

With each step he could see more and more of the great hall he was just about to arrive at. Similar to the stairway, it was needlessly spacious and lavishly decorated. He recalled the view from the granite rock tower. The house he had seen from up there was certainly big, but no way could it accommodate a room of that size.

There must be two separate planes of reality overlapping within one timeframe. But the scenery outside the window never changed no matter where I was. Could it be that this is limited only to the house’s interior? But… no… the most important part of this is the very existence of this room. If Everett’s interpretation is really correct, if there are currently two realities, then what caused them to intersect? This should not be possible. If this… irregularity is limited only to this house, then something must be in charge of it. Aratron? He didn’t seem that powerful. Besides, judging from his notes, this wasn’t his area of expertise anyway. I have to find him and beat the secret out of him. What did he find? What did he experiment on? And does he even realise what’s happening?

He turned around to face the staircase. Its last steps were few feet away from the enclosure wall, where he expected to see some tall, gothic windows matching the splendour of the hall. There was a pair of door instead. The one on the left was boarded over, its white paint peeling and handle rusted. The other was blue-greyish and new.

He frowned.

Well, if this was a computer game, it would be a trap. The left one would be the correct one and now I’d have to go and look for a crowbar.

His fingers grasped the brass knob of the newer one and let himself in.

The room had been left unattended for a while. White sheets covered every piece of furniture, specks of dust floated in the air. Only one of the shelves was left exposed, a row of gleaming trophies occupying it. Out of curiosity, Katse glanced at the inscriptions engraved in brass plates. All those cups, statues, and medals were given to Joshua MacNab mostly for winning swimming and track-running competitions. Accompanying them were diplomas, commemorating the boy’s proficiency in mathematics and physics.

Katse took one of few framed photos and inspected it. It showed a tall, handsome youth of about sixteen years, grinning at the camera, a trophy in his hands. His parents were by his side and Katse could see Joshua inherited his dark hair, blue eyes, and pointed nose from his mother. Alden looked like the happiest man alive.

He let the photo fall on the ground and stepped on it. This type of people was going on his nerves the most. Brats, who grew into people, who donated money to charity and said ‘Oh, that’s horrible’ and ‘somebody ought to do something about that’ when they saw news from Iraq, or Somalia, or Chechnya, or hundreds of other places like that. And eventually they would end up feeding stashes of money to some useless shrink or hooker so they would have someone to spill their empty little hearts to. They made him want to vomit, useless people like that. In the end all of that charity and goodwill they boasted about was only a means for them to feel better about themselves. This case was even worse than most, because that annoying brat died before anyone had a chance to discover what kind of a hypocritical monster he really was.

Next room he walked into was much different, but by then he became so accustomed to the diversity of the house’s quirks, he didn’t bother questioning them anymore.

Like some odd decoration for Christmas or perhaps a birthday party, there were dozens and dozens of negatives, hanging from the ceiling. They showed mostly members of the family. Mother in the garden, in the kitchen, or dressed in a lab coat and doing calculations. Father in a laboratory. Only in a laboratory, nowhere else. Often there was Agatha next to him. This had been before Alden did whatever he did. Agatha wasn’t Ophiel yet. Every single shot of her showed her smile. It made her look attractive, if somewhat sad. There was something even more amiss on Alden’s rare smile. It looked distracted and the few times he looked in the camera, there was a great distance in his eyes. Quite obviously a man, buried in his work.

He recognised the boy buried under textbooks as Joshua. Josh didn’t spare the camera even a single glance. Studying on his own, training on his own. Always with that look of determination. Doing everything he could to ensure his own future as a successful, wealthy man. What could have possibly been his reaction to the fact that he was dying? No matter how hard he tried, he would’ve never achieved anything. No matter what he did, he hadn’t escaped his fate.

Then there was Sue. Playing violin or playing with horses. There were even several shots of her in the kitchen, cooking side by side with her mother. A pretty girl in pretty dresses. A cheerful child.

Katse tried to remember his childhood. The times when he - well, she at the time - wore a dress. A dress and a smile.

“If you smile at people, you will win their hearts. Who could say no to a smiling girl? No one will ever suspect you of anything. The less you are suspected the less people you’ll have to kill and the less clues you’ll leave behind. Remember that every corpse can and will be used against you. Don’t kill unless you have no other way. There are better ways how to silence people. And if money, persuasions or blackmailing won’t work, then get someone else to do it for you. Or make sure nothing can ever point towards you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, aunt Katarina.”

“Good. Then smile for me, Gattino.”

“…”

“That’s not a smile.”

“I’m trying.”

“You know about the facial muscle structure by now, don’t you?”

“Yes, aunt Katarina.”

“Well, then you can smile as well. And remember to make it look natural. Remember, your lower eyelids have to contract, unless it won’t look genuine.”

“Yes, aunt Katarina.”

“…ah, lesson finished. I have a date with Giuseppe tonight. I have something important to tell him.”

“…”

“Smile, Gattino. That’s the only way for a piccola girl like you to get intel out of people.”

“... like this?”

“Yes. You don’t need to show your teeth unless you are in the company of your peers and need to find your way in their group. Remember, a grin was originally a sign of aggression amongst animals. Never grin at older men and chimpanzees.”

“I understand.”

“That was a joke. Laugh.”

“…ahahaha.”

“Gosh. Seems like we still have a lot of work to do… but not tonight. I need to tell Giuseppe the news.”

“...That sounds very exciting.”

“Yes. Yes, that expression is spot on, though I wonder what kind of expression will he make. Since I’m pregnant and all…”

“…”

“Smile, Gattino. You need to be able to maintain that expression no matter what. From the moment we were born into the Galactor family, our hearts are zero. Connect the expression called ‘a smile’ with the feeling of zero in your heart. Starting tonight, every day you return from your lesson you will practise in front of the mirror fifteen minutes every day, okay?”

“Yes, aunt Katarina.”

“Well, I have to go now. Minestrone is waiting.”

When the building units the world was composed of regained their clear lines and shapes again, he realised he was holding onto a strip of negatives. The thread it had hung on before was now dangling limply to the ground. Shrugging, he put it to his eye. It was a series of family pictures from a birthday party. Everyone was there, Agatha included, as well as several people he didn’t recognise. They were all smiling. It was a perfectly normal birthday party photo. But he noticed that none of the eyes showed any particular emotion, and every corner of lips was stretched to the side instead of being curled up. It was also the only photo with Maureen on it.

He crumpled the negative in his fist and threw it over his shoulder, thinking he was starting to understand why the girl had decided to become something as ridiculous as Angel Girl White Snowdrop. The irony almost made him feel sorry for her.

Erinnýes, Act 1



“Okay everyone; I’m calling this a break.” Ken ordered when they entered a rather cosy room with a bed, a sofa, and a plant. It could be locked from the inside which was all he wanted from it. His team could rest here.

Jun breathed a sigh of relief. Her side was actually quite sore, but Ken kept throwing furtive glances at her, and she didn’t want to make him think she was being less than perfect. Then he would surely excuse her on the ground of her gender. She would’ve been much happier to be yelled at and called a wuss, rather than have him think that her gender was the issue here.

Not that she disliked herself for being a girl. Quite the contrary. At least she could spoil herself with gorgeously-smelling bath oils, wear beautiful night gowns, and profess her love for sweets. She just hated to have her gender being taken into consideration in situations, where it was completely unnecessary, even contra-productive.

“Jinpei, have you managed to get in touch with Ryu yet?” Ken asked, looking around the room to make sure there was no danger lying in wait.

“No luck, aniki. I’ve been trying over and over. I can’t get through to Ryu or Nambu-hakase. Whatever those walls are made of, they’re damn thick.” Jinpei answered, thumping the wall with his fist.

“Jinpei. Language.”

“Sorry, nee-chan. Are you feeling okay?”

Jinpei drew his attention away from those failed communications attempts to his sister. She kept saying she was fine, but her face was much too pale for that.

“I’m fine, Jinpei. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled at him, stroking his head.

“Jun. What about these windows?” Ken asked softly, though his eyes betrayed impatience.

She went in the direction he was pointing at, and touched the glass. First she slid her hand down the pane, then she tapped it with her index-finger. The sound which escaped from under the tip of her finger was that of a solid object. No resonance whatsoever.

“No good. I can try it again, but I doubt it’ll bring anything. Do you want me to try?”

“No. We’ve already done that and we can’t afford to needlessly waste your explosives.”

He didn’t mean to come off as accusatory, but that’s how she felt it. It happened often. Ken pointed out something which wasn’t anyone’s fault. Or the whole team was to blame. Yet she still took it on her secretly, feeling guilty for something she didn’t do. Maybe it was because Joe didn’t particularly care, Jinpei dismissed any criticism as soon as something else caught his attention, and Ryu let hardly ever anything faze him as long as Galactor left his sugar alone.

“Alright.”

“So what are your plans?” Joe posed the Question.

Ken glanced at him, his arms folded on his chest.

“If that Aratron person is the one who’s in charge of this, then we just have to find him and… get him to help us.”

Joe grinned and cracked his finger-joints. That was more like it. Not having a plan was always so maddening, he’d rather charge in and shoot everything that moved than stay back and sit on his hands.

“So what do you think is happening here?” He asked, though he already had a theory of his own. He just wanted his leader to have his say; and then argue with him about whose theory was better. Discussions definitely beat silence. Besides they were fun. He dimly remembered his parents’ arguments. Though they were heated, both parties had appeared to revel in them.

“I think that all this might be a third party’s doing. Could be they want to usurp Galactor’s power by disposing of its leader. Or it might be a group of vigilantes.”

“Oh yeah? It could be that it’s all that bastard’s doing. He just wants us to run in circles while he’s ruining his newest victim.”

“But are you really sure that the guy we caught wasn’t Katse?” Jinpei joined them.

“That’s anyone’s guess.”

“Well, he never referred to himself as Berg Katse and that Aratron guy didn’t refer to him as Berg Katse.” Ken said slowly. This was something he still had mixed feelings about.

“But Sue said…”

“Sue wasn’t a human. You saw it for yourself, didn’t you?”

“…yes, but…”

“For all we know, she was meant to lead us in that room. What better pretence could she have used than that her family was being tortured by Berg Katse? And what better form to have than that of a little girl?”

“Yes… who could ever hurt a little girl…” Jun heaved a sigh.

“Well, it’s getting late. Let’s split up. Two of us will take the first guard while the other two sleep. Three hours each. Any objections anyone?”

There was silence.

“Good. Jun. Do you want to have-“

“The first duty? Sure.” She finished with her trademark bright smile which didn’t leave any rooms for complaints.

“O-okay. Then it’s me and Jun first. We’ll wake you up in three hours, so go to sleep now.”

“With birdstyles on?” Jinpei asked, stretching his back.

“Yes, with birdstyles on. You never know who might be watching.”

“Aww, aniki.”

“Jinpei. Stop being a pest.” Jun chastised her little brother. She wished he would take the situation more seriously.

He obeyed, though not without some grumbling. He took the sofa, Joe the bed, and a few minutes later both of them were out like a pair of candles.


Ken stood by the window, a frown on his face. It was so peaceful out there. He didn’t like that. It made him feel that it had been a horrible, horrible mistake to come here. Nevertheless when that girl told them that Katse had her family hostage, there was no way he could’ve stood back and wait. The proper procedure should’ve been to contact Nambu-hakase and wait for further instructions. The Ken from before would’ve done it that way. The Ken from before followed his orders and he didn’t kill Katse even though he had a chance. And that’s why the V2 plan proceeded without interruptions. Had he killed that bastard, his father would be still alive.

“Ken, are you alright?” Jun asked, worry in her eyes.

“Don’t I look alright?” he answered, trying to smile.

“You look like you’re bothered by something. Is… is it your father?”

His initial answer was merely a nod.

“…yes, that as well. It’s just that…”

“Do you think that if we caught Katse earlier, your father would be still alive?”

“No. I’m thinking he’d be still alive if I killed Katse.” he said, his eyes narrowing and hands baling into fists.

Jun had the urge to bite her lip. She knew that she was treading on thin ice there. To say that the death of Red Impulse was a shock to Ken would be an understatement. He changed, all because of the raw power of conflicting emotions he had to endure. She often thought about it while trying to fall asleep, the comfort of the darkness and her bed making her feel guilty.

It must be even worse than a normal death in the family. After all those years he realized that the father he always looked up to was alive. A moment later the same father beats him up, and then jumps in the rocket instead of Ken to sacrifice himself for the Earth. To find out about him being alive was enough of a jolt already. Plus, there’s the fact how Ken always tries to suppress his emotions because he thinks it’s expected of a leader… that’s just so sad…

“Ken… you know we’re… we’re not supposed to kill him. Just bring him to justice and… and let the law punish him.” she said slowly, weighting her words.

He spun around so quickly she made a step back. There was fire in his eyes. She never saw him so animate.

“Not supposed to kill him? So he can run away again and then launch another attack which will cost hundreds of lives? Just because of an order? He killed my father. He doesn’t care how many families he will destroy. ” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t wake his comrades. Despite those efforts Jinpei stirred and Joe… glancing at him over Ken’s shoulder, Jun didn’t see him move a muscle, which meant that he was already awake.

She tried desperately to come up with something to say, which was hard since she could understand his point a bit too well. Ken spared her the trouble by looking away and heaving a sigh.

“Sorry Jun. I didn’t mean to snap at you like this. It’s just that this situation is driving me crazy. We are kept completely in the dark and we can’t even get through to Ryu. And god knows where that monster is. I mean… have you ever seen anything like that? It was like something out of one of those movies that Joe and Jinpei always watch… And you were shot as well. You should want to kill him as well. You shouldn’t be so cool about it. I mean, those cuts on your face might leave scars. Something like that shouldn’t happen to pretty girls. Uh, I’m sorry, I meant…” Ken stuttered, his cheeks turning red.

Jun smiled at him.

“So you say I’m a pretty girl? Why thank you, Mr. Washio. You are rather handsome yourself…” she joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Sorry… ah, I guess I’m just angry at the fact that I can’t stay focused as well as I used to. Not like you. Sometimes… sometimes it seems to me as this war is never going to end.”

The last statement put a definite damper on her attempts to stay cheerful. It contained an idea which had kept her awake through many a night. Thinking that the time froze for the five of them. Fighting Galactor over and over, and though they almost always won, it just seemed so repetitive, it was like they were going through some sick groundhog loop day tailored exclusively for them. She watched her female acquaintances – acquaintances only, since she couldn’t bear the risk of having an actual friend who didn’t belong to ISO – as they had fun in college, got married and strolled about with baby carriages, knowing she won’t be able to join them as long as the war against Galactor will continue. It was so damn frustrating.

But at that moment, her own frustrations weren’t the priority. She touched Ken’s arm, wanting to tell him that it’s okay to feel like that. That it’s normal to be confused and grieve in his situation. And last but not least, that she’ll always be there to support him. When suddenly he tensed up and turned his attention to the door.

Suddenly she could hear it too.

Something sliding up the wood.

They exchanged looks, and while Ken drew his boomerang, Jun rushed over to wake up her little brother. Joe, with his sharp reflexes, was already up, readying his airgun.

As soon as she whispered in the sleepy Swallow’s ear that they have company, the door literally burst open. A horrible, rancid stench filled the room. Jun shielded her little brother, disregarding the darts of pain, shooting from her injured side. Then she turned around, ready to throw her yo-yo at the threat. To defeat it. To bring herself a little step closer to her yearned-for future.

She couldn’t prevent herself from shrieking out when she saw what stood there.

Back at the orphanage, when she was still a little girl, there were several big vegetable patches, taken care of by the children. To the slugs, those rows of cabbages and lettuce were practically an open buffet. Naturally, the children and their teachers were of a different opinion, and so it happened more often than not that when one of those pests was discovered, either someone poured some salt on it, or one of the boys stepped on it. She still remembered that time when little Charlie stepped on one huge slug right in front of her. The way he laughed at how its internal organs popped out frightened her a little at that time.

Something like that stood in the door. Glistening, trembling. Moving on dozens of small, stubby prolegs. For a moment it didn’t move. Amongst its many flaps and boils a long, vertical slit appeared, sickly greyish pink and swollen-looking. It split and a huge eye emerged, covered in thin white membrane, which fell of almost immediately, hitting the floor with a sickening splat.

Then without a warning a fleshy feeler shot out, right at Jun. She jumped to the side, gasping with pain, but it still managed to grasp her ankle.

Jinpei noticed the expression on his sister’s face. The way her nose wrinkled and eyebrows pressed down and eyes half-shut.

She’s really in pain.

With a loud yell he leapt towards the monster, and kicked it out of the room with both feet. Just before he landed, he twirled his bolos and threw them at the thing which crashed against the opposite wall. First there was a soft plop type of noise and then a big explosion, sending pieces of slug everywhere.

“Nee-chan, are you alright?” Jinpei exclaimed, rushing to his sister’s side.

“Y-yeah, I’ll manage.” She answered, picking herself up.

“Thanks god…” he breathed a sigh of relief.

“But you don’t look so hot.”

She pointed at big stripes of stinking, translucent pieces of flesh, sticking to the wings of his birdstyle, and the lower portions of his boots, besmeared with slime.

“Eeew, that’s so disgusting. Where’s a tub when you need it...”

“Good going, kid. You were really cool there for a moment.” Joe said, giving Jinpei a smirk which pleased the boy immensely, all slime forgotten.

“Yes. Thank you very much. You were really brave there.” Jun chimed in, patting his helmet.

“It’s not over yet. Someone’s coming. Quick, everyone take positions.” Ken hissed, moving closer to Jun.

This time there was no furtive slithering, but a steady pat, pat, pat of shoes.

She was back.

Susannah.

Her sandy-blond hair was loose and unkempt, and she had changed her dress. Instead of the previous blue one with white polka dots, the new one was pastel pink with big, black flowers. She was barefoot. In other words, her appearance was nothing like a monster, but rather a girl getting ready for picnic with family and friends. One, who would start to nibble at sandwiches almost as soon as she left the house.

Except for the expression.

Her eyes were blank; the rest of her features, however, displayed great anger. Flared nostrils, lips compressed into a tight line.

“You killed mama.” She muttered.

“Were you the one, responsible for that monstrosity?” Ken asked with an authoritative voice in hopes of preventing another fight.

“That was Reyq-ma-vet.”

“And what is that?”

“Papa says something useless.”

“Why are you here?”

“Papa says Bring Hagith here. Cut off his legs if he shows any resistance. ” She answered obediently, though after the first two words the pitch of her voice dropped, resembling rather disturbingly a male baritone.

“Who is Hagith?”

“Person with long, golden hair.”

“Didn’t you say that it was Berg Katse?”

“Papa wants Hagith back. And he also wants Phaleg to get rid of the people in bird masks.”

“But why? Tell me a reason.”

“Until then no momma. I want momma back. So I have to blossom.” She said, her voice cracking. Two tears rolled down her cheeks.

“...blossom?”

“Yes. Daddy said that Phaleg will blossom and then I will get everything I ever wanted. I want momma back. So I will blossom now.”

She made a step towards, and her right hand moved up, flicking at the wide shoulder-straps of her dress. Before it touched her floor, her ribs all burst out just like before. She remained standing on both feet this time, though her neck still extended several times its original size.

“You hurt momma. Only evildoers hurt mommas. You are evildoers.” She choked out a whisper, her voice distorted by the length of her neck.

At least a dozen of those rib-feelers darted towards Jun. As soon as she noticed them, she realised she won’t be able to dodge in time; but then a shadow leapt in front of her, picking her up and bringing her to safety. It was Joe.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. But not for long.”

Feelers coiled in one place for a moment. Joe tried to hurl his shurikens at Susannah/Phaleg, though to no avail. They bounced right off the girl, as if her skin was made of steel. Jun jumped away just in time to evade another attack, but Joe made the crucial mistake of making sure that she did escape, slowing his own evasion down by a split of second. A feeler pierced right through his pectoral, pinning him to the wall.

“Jun!” Ken yelled and threw his boomerang.

She caught it just in time and slashed, severing the limb.

“Throw me your yo-yo!” he added and then gestured Jun to move to the side. He himself ran to the other side of the room, close to the door where Phaleg stood.

Jun nodded curtly and launched herself where he pointed to, throwing her weapon. Ken caught it and threw it back, so the loop of the microfilament encircled the feelers. He then gestured Jun to repeat the whole process. They managed to do that four times in about three seconds and the last time Ken caught the yo-yo, he tugged hard at the cord, tying all feelers into one bundle.

In the meanwhile, instead of trying to free himself, Joe reached for his gun, and threw it to Jinpei. The youngest member of the Science Ninja Team caught it with slight hesitation.

“Jinpei! Shoot!” Ken yelled, hoping that the G-4 would have the necessary courage. After all, that thing they fought used to have a human shape.

On the other hand, Joe had been nailed on one spot like a bug and some of Jun’s scratches opened up, blood oozing down her face. She glanced at him. It was the uncertainty in her eyes which made him push the trigger. He had to prove to her that he could be of use as well. That he could protect her just like she always protected him. This thought erased any trace of Susannah within Phaleg. A bullet left the muzzle, another right after it. The first merely grazed the inhuman, elongated skull with four extra eye-sockets, but the second one hit it straight in the neck, piercing the wind-pipe, almost severing the head.

There was a wall-shattering roar. Phaleg begun to jerk and twitch, having more than enough power to swipe both Jun and Ken off their feet and blast them against the walls. She charged right at Jinpei like an angry bull, not caring about any injuries.

Jinpei stared. He couldn’t move. The centre of those feelers stretched, round, lamprey-like mouth filled with barbed teeth appearing. He dropped the gun and it fell so slowly, he was positive his decapitated body would get there faster, when something swished past him.

Joe.

He shoved Jinpei to the side, and pushed himself off the floor as hard as he could, so that the force of his impact would add to the force he thrust the feeler he was previously impaled with forward. Still covered with his own blood, his improvised weapon went straight through the monster’s maw, encountering several obstructions which all yielded under his force. Phaleg flew back with him on top, though Joe had the presence of mind to jump away as possible so he wouldn’t have to suffer any burns from the monster’s corrosive bodily fluids.

With this hit Phaleg was finally beaten. Her limbs kept twitching slightly, and as she lay on her side, she found enough strength to turn around and crawl back towards the ninjas, leaving a thick trail behind her. Miraculously the head raised itself, though it was connected to the throat by hardly anything beside the spine.

“I’m…ah… I’m goin’ to… ah… eat you… you killed my momma… ah, you… give… momma… back… eat you… kill…” her voice grew more and more distorted with each word.

Ken pulled out his boomerang and noticed Jun was looking at him. He could guess what she was thinking. She was comparing his thirst for revenge to that monster’s. He gritted his teeth and threw the plastic explosives-laden boomerang with all his might, knowing that what he was about to kill was most likely nothing but an innocent victim. However this was an ‘eat or be eaten’ situation. He had responsibilities for the protection and safety of the world’s innocents heaped up on his back. The boomerang felt heavy and cold, but he still threw it.

Walls were painted with fluids in a way, which resembled the blossom of a chrysanthemum. Severed head thudded on the floor. What was left of the body shuddered, and collapsed like a marionette, created in Rob Bottin’s ateliers.

The Eagle’s talons gained another blood splatter to weight his mind down.

Funeral Rites



The body, or whatever was left of it, had been long cold when Aratron stopped in front of it. He took a minute to observe, not moving a muscle, not breathing. What he saw in front of him was a pool of blood and gore, crimson covering not only the floor, but walls as well, even a bit of the ceiling. The unmoving remains of Susannah/Phaleg, skewered on her own limb, partially scattered around, were sickening and inhuman. Coming across them, one couldn’t really imagine them being alive at any point in the past; which was perhaps why he felt sorry for it. He lifted the torn-off head up. There were tears in all six eyes.

Poor child. No one had any compassion for you. You died with tears in your eyes, barely fourteen years of age, without getting to experience almost any of the things human hold as significant; and yet, you died having experienced events beyond any normal human’s comprehension. I would like to think you lived a full life, but I cannot judge that anymore. I’m sorry. Perhaps you’ll finally get to be with Bethor again.

Transforming his body into something more useful, he grabbed Phaleg to bring her underground so she wouldn’t have to rot in a place like that. As he knew the layout of the house by heart no matter what sort of transformation it underwent, he got to his destination pretty quickly. In front of his was Elef-Kehe-Eynayim; or rather his ‘processing unit’. He gently lowered Phaleg’s remains down on it. The dark grey matter bloated and rippled.

While he watched, a certain memory emerged in his tranquil mind.

It happened one and half years ago.

Cornelia was bedridden with angina, Joshua gone, not returning from his boarding school until Friday late afternoon. Susannah had been gloomy for about three days already. Her tooth ached. A molar. She was, just like any other child and a great number of adults, deathly scared of the dentist, but being her father, he sat down next to her and explained that it will be better if she goes and sees him rather than to be in pain for another couple of weeks. She nodded, if only to please her father. His words didn’t convince her at all.

Early morning the very next day they got in the car and drove to the dentist’s. Despite the fact that he could have just as well made the appointment for a later hour, he asked for the earliest possible time, so she would still be numbed by sleep. He even brought his noise-cancelling headphones and MP3 player so she could listen to something more inspiring than drills (In his case, the most child-friendly piece he had was the opera Cunning Little Vixen. He vaguely recalled his own mother taking him to the theatre to see it decades ago.).

In the end, just as expected, she said it didn’t hurt at all. He delighted her by saying that he phoned her school and excused her from attendance. They had something light to eat, and then, buying two big cups of ice cream and some cinnamon buns, he took her for a trip to a small lake about ten minutes of drive away. Though there was a new foothpath built around it and new signboards with brief information about the area erected, almost no one ever came to visit. The surrounding wall of trees made it invisible to the city folks. Indeed, it looked as if the small lake had been swallowed by the hill.

He himself loved walking around and around the lake, whose surface was notable for its mirror-like stillness. The sight had a miraculous calming effect on him. However the reason he brought Susannah over there were the birds. A pair of big, pure white swans, a small flock of ducks. She was overjoyed. Once her cup of ice cream was empty, she took her cinnamon buns, tore off small pieces and threw them to the birds.

“Too bad mom couldn’t come with us.” She said.

“Mom isn’t feeling well. Once she gets better, we can come here for a picnic.”

“That’ll be great!”

He just smiled and ruffled her hair. And then, suddenly-

“Look, daddy! A huge spider!”

There was a big black one with white stripes, weaving its net under one of the picnic tables. She came closer, and he expected her to withdraw with disgust once she’d see the arachnid in all its outlandish glory; but she didn’t. For some reason she was completely mesmerized by it, and watched, swans and ducks forgotten, as it moved slowly and cautiously across the gossamer threads of its net.

Leaning over the railing, he watched bemusedly as one bigger piece of cinnamon bun, which had been thrown too far away for the birds to notice, sank to the bottom and disappeared from his view.

One and half year later he watched again as something faded away and disappeared from his view. Soon there was not a trace left of Phaleg. Even her blood had been absorbed several storeys higher. Nothing remained. That’s what he was intending to change.

Paw



As ‘a staircase’ was what he first saw when he opened his eyes, he spent the next several seconds trying to remember just how exactly did he come to wake up in a place like that. With a small lag and a vague sensation of disassociation his memories returned.

He had finally found an exit, an open doorway he was positive lead back to the more familiar part of the house. While he kept brooding about how on earth was he going to convince everyone that he was Berg Katse, that whine returned. It was as if a thick blanket had descended on him, slowing him down, making his knees buckle, turning everything around him into tar just as he ran through the door. He couldn’t even remember the impact.

Even now he still felt sick.

That cold feeling inside of him was stronger than before. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the carpet to chase away that vertigo, which had little to do with his injuries.

What was I supposed to do again…? I wanted to go somewhere… to… ah, yes. I wanted to go down and reach the centre, otherwise I’ll never be able to leave. And once I’m out, I’ll… uh… go to the nearest Michelin-star restaurant and eat through the whole menu. Yes, come to think of it, it’ll be the Beaujolais Nouveau Day. Can’t miss out on that one. I’ll fly to Chiroubles, drink myself silly and forget about this hellhole.

With a set goal, everything seemed a little bit easier.

As he rolled over on his side, several strands of hair fell in his face, tickling his nose. He wanted to brush them away, however he found out that his arm has gotten numb. Probably from the way he had been lying on top of it or something. He opened his eyes to see whether it’s turning bluish from the lack of blood.

For the next several seconds he stared straight ahead, not moving a muscle. All thoughts of French wine and other pleasures of future have quietly left his head.

“…eh?” was all he had to say.

There was something in front of him, approximately at the same place his hand was.

It was white and it had digits. It was a limb. But its fingers were oddly deformed, arching and bending in a way no fingers were supposed to under normal conditions. Its metacarpals were grotesquely long, and the thumb was moved much higher, away from the rest of the fingers, making it truly an inhuman limb.

He twitched his hand.

The limb twitched as well. Sharp, curved claws protracted.

He got up, sitting on his heels, watching the alien hand move, watching the throbbing of veins, dictated by a frantic heartbeat.

It took some time for the realisation to break through his denial.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” he screamed out in panic, waved that arm and smashed it against the ground as hard as he could. Those claws came out again. They didn’t get stuck in the metallic surface of the flooring. Instead they scraped out four long, coiling stripes of that material.

This was the hand of Hagith.

It was his hand.

Didn’t that mean that he was Hagith?

No. No, no, NO! I am Berg Katse. I am human. My hands are human hands. This is my hand. I’m am NOT Hagith. I am Berg Katse. My hands are those of a human. Turn back. Turn back.
Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back.

Slowly but surely warmth returned back to the ‘afflicted’ hand, claws retracting, bones shrinking and joints adopting their original position. But he didn’t watch any of that. He pressed the back of his left hand against his eyes, biting the inside of his lip. It was not pleasant, though to call it painful would be exaggerating. A bit like his Change, really.

He got up and almost immediately the contents of his stomach rose as well.

Bathroom.

He frantically searched for one, focusing his every thought on trying to keep his last meal where it was supposed to be until he found an appropriate, sheltered spot where no one would be able to see him and make fun of him. And take advantage of this weakness.

Jumping the stairs down, he went in the first hallway he saw. Coincidentally there was one bathroom right there. With a heady feeling of gratitude to whatever gods were watching over him, he almost kicked the door open, lifted the toilet seat and let the retroperistalsis take its course.

Once the spasms in his stomach faded away and he washed his mouth out, the suffocating feeling of dread buried him like an avalanche. He sank down and squeezed himself under the sink, next to the toilet, trying to take up as little space as possible.

How can I go back like this? They’ll strap me on the board again, but this time they won’t let me go until I’ll be neatly separated in few hundreds of jars, all meticulously labelled, stored for further experimentation. But I will still be the Chosen One. Oh, how Chosen I’ll be…

At that moment, Berg Katse, the murderer of thousands, almost burst in tears, looking more pathetic than ever.

“Why me…” he whispered.

“I told you. No one else could be Hagith.” Aratron’s voice answered clearly.

“I want to stay human. I’m not a monster.”

“But you never were human to begin with.” The voice stated with unshakeable authority.

Katse buried his face in his hands.

Finally he saw the gravity of his situation in all its glory. If he would stay, he would live on as a half-insane monster. If he would leave, he would be mercilessly cut up into little pieces and studied as thoroughly as possible. And knowing those scientists, they would probably make sure to keep him conscious for as long as possible to study his reactions. After all that someone else would take the position of Sousai’s Chosen One and no one would ever know he existed. Even those scientists would most likely have no idea who were they experimenting on.

“I hate you.”

“You will feel much better when you become Hagith. You can trust me. I know it best. Let me tell you a secret, Mr Katse. Before I managed to contact Elef-Kehe-Eynayim, I contemplated self-destruction. I even had it all prepared. The pills. The alcohol. However once the event took place, I saw everything in a new perspective. I knew I could help people to understand. My family. Those I loved so much. You want that as well, don’t you? For people to pity you. For people to understand you.”

“Shut up.”

“But your curse lies within all you have experienced so far. Within your history. Once you become our comrade, your history will no longer matter. Didn’t you wish for something like that to happen?”

“Shut up.”

“It is understandable. Reactive attachment disorder. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Schizoid disorder. You know how hard it is to live with them, especially when you are prohibited from seeking out help. It would be much easier to just leave them behind. You can stop being Odile and become Odette instead. Didn’t you wish for that?”

“SHUT UP!”

You can stop being Odile and become Odette instead. Didn’t you wish for that?

Katse pressed his hands against his ears. He was no longer sure if it was Aratron who was talking to him, or if it was his own mind. No matter which was which, the truth was that he wouldn’t be able to escape from neither. He scrambled up on his feet. There was a mirror, showing the face of a ghost. It seemed natural to break it. To smash his fist into it. He didn’t really think about it; it was more a reflex than anything else. The whining noise was too loud for him to hear any crashing sounds, but when he looked down, the sink was full of long, sharp shards. He grabbed one and stabbed it right through his hand. The pain made him immediately feel sorry and he yanked the shard out, tossing it behind his shoulder.

He wanted to turn cold water on and stick his hand under the current, however he didn’t manage to muster enough will and so he ended up simply letting the blood drop down the white porcelain or fall upon the reflective surface of broken glass.

A part of the mirror still remained in its frame. Smooth-edged, cracked pieces. Katse looked up at them. They showed a hunched over person not unlike a Japanese onryo ghost, only with blond hair instead of black. It didn’t cross his mind even once to stand up straight. For the time being, that was the most natural posture he could’ve adopted.

Family Album



Since now there were two comrades whose injuries had to be taken into consideration, Ken decided to look for a spot to spend the night much earlier than he planned. Ever since they killed Phaleg, no one said a word. He found that a bit irritating. After all, what they killed wasn’t a girl-child, but an enemy masquerading as one. A monster. Perhaps it was designed to adopt such appearance so it would shake their morale. Perhaps that bastard Katse was somewhere out there, sitting in front of surveillance monitors and having a grand time watching them.

That seemed like a viable possibility; that he let her… let it be killed so that he could impede their progress and sow seeds of discord among the team. Ken knew that monster didn’t mind one bit letting people die for the stupidest of reasons. As he said it himself back at the V2 building site. Completing the task was more important than people’s lives.

Ken recalled the time he spent undercover in that Galactor facility in Huntwal. The cruelty of Galactor’s leader, both direct and indirect, perpetrated on his own men.

Tied to that mission were much more painful and troubling memories.

His father’s face.

His father’s hands.

His father’ voice as he said his farewell and boarded the V2 counter-missile.

All that time his father simultaneously was and wasn’t by his side. The Red Impulse. Did he think that Ken couldn’t be trusted with the secret? Did he think his son was too weak, too unreliable?

And Nambu-hakase as well.

He had actually suspected the leader of Red Impulse to be his father ever since… well, probably since they had that fight during the Blue Hawk mission, however since Nambu-hakase never said a word, he thought that he had been mistaken. That is had simply been his wishful thinking. Why didn’t even his mentor say anything about Red Impulse’s identity?

It must be because they thought I’m simply too weak. That it would distract me from my mission. If… if only I was stronger. I was such an idiot. Letting Sabu, letting personal matters to distract me. If I was stronger, I could’ve seen through his lies and join the team much faster. Prevent the V2 missile from being launched. Or throw father away and pilot the counter-missile on my own. Nambu-hakase could find another person to replace me. Besides, Joe would be able to lead the team without any problems. I was such an idiot.

“Ken?” Jun’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Yes?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Why?”

“You look a bit out of it.” she said in a low voice. With that his shame returned. Jun, who was gravely injured, asked him, the uninjured one, what the matter was. How embarrassing.

“I’m fine; but you should rest. You look tired.”

“…okay. I’ll go to the bathroom then.”

“You do that. Jinpei, try to find out as much as possible about this house and its owners. Especially whether or not they have any personal ties to Galactor.”

“Okay. But I won’t be able to do much, aniki. Any connection to the outside world has been cut. I’ve only got the standard ISO database on my palmtop.” The kid answered, not watching him but his injured sister as she closed the door behind herself.

“Right. Just do whatever you can.”

The room they took refuge in belonged to the living quarters of the house’s denizens. It was secured only by a normal, mechanical key, however since that was a great improvement over the gross majority of other rooms, he was grateful even for such a small security measure.

From the interior he could tell that there has been an actual human being living there at some point. Unlike the sterile, impersonal corridors and most rooms, this one radiated personality.

It was a lady’s room.

For starters, there was a gorgeous mosaic on the floor, composed of green and yellow tiles placed together in an intricate design. Floral curtains hung in the windows and there was a round table with a vase of expertly arranged chrysanthemums and various grasses. The most striking feature of this room was, however, the amount of paintings hanging on its walls. It was an atelier. An atelier, not a gallery, since there was a big easel with a half-finished painting, executed in a style identical to the rest of the pictures.

Not paying much attention to them, Ken started to look through a nearby cabinet, hoping to find some clues about the mystery they found themselves in. There was almost nothing useful, only various artists’ utensils. Paints, thinners, brushes, palettes, and palette knives. Also an apron and several hairpins and hair-bands, and a folder, containing spectacularly bad but heartwarming pictures from children for their mommy.

One of the more useful finds Ken pulled out was a sketchbook full of portraits. Depicted were, as it appeared, only family members and close friends.

A girl with round face and long, wavy hair, large eyes, and delicate brows. The name was crossed through so many times he couldn’t read a single letter. One word had been written above instead. The word ‘Phul’. She had been depicted from many angles, doing all sorts of activities, like fetching a ball, writing homework while bearing an expression of utmost concentration, or smiling excitedly at a big piece of chocolate cake.

The next person which had been drawn was, and his heart started to beat a bit louder, Susannah. The one they killed (No. The one, whose likeness they killed. Impostor, he reminded himself). She was naturally taller than her sister. Thinner as well. The most striking picture of her was one, which showed Susannah sitting on a lawn and weaving a dandelion wreath. Ken heaved a sigh. Another family shattered by Galactor and for no good reason at all.

He didn’t recognise the next three people. Young man about his age, a middle-aged gentleman, presumably his father, and a woman in a lab coat with her hair in a bun.

The very last person was a wholly different matter.

The name was scratched as well and the writing above called... him (most likely, judging by the sharp lines of his face) Hagith.

It was that long-haired person they took for Katse.

But was he really?

Ken became more and more convinced that it wasn’t so. He didn’t believe anymore that Katse and this strange, long-haired man were one and the same, though he still didn’t like his eyes. There was something hungry about them. What could’ve been his position in the family?

The reason Ken changed his mind was the way that man, Hagith, was depicted.

A mass-murdering terrorist wouldn’t be drawn with so much care. It was most obvious on the very last picture of the sketch-book. He had been drawn asleep next to an aquarium, with the youngest girl lying on top of him, resting her head on his upper arm. The man’s expression was touchingly peaceful and the girl looked as content as a kitten. The longer Ken looked at that portrait, the more he believed that if Hagith wasn’t her eldest brother, then he was a close family member or at least a trusted baby-sitter.

On the other hand, what kind of family would allow a baby-sitter to fall asleep? Or, more importantly, to fall asleep together with a girl much younger than he was?

Yes, that person couldn’t have been Berg Katse, the terrorist for whom the lives of children had no value.
But still. Why was he so unfriendly towards us? It doesn’t make any sense. But then again, we are far away from the main base and this house is far enough from the civilisation not to know of our presence. It had become occupied by Galactor. He probably thought we belong to them. Or maybe they subjected him to some kind of torture or drugs, so he’s confused now.

“Did you find anything interesting there?” Joe’s voice brought him back to earth.

“Ah, not sure yet. Just a sketchbook. Nevertheless, how are your injuries?”

“I’ve had worse.” Joe chuckled in a rather strained fashion.

Taking his find he strode towards Joe who was taking care of his injuries. A couple of minutes back Jun brought him a wet towel from the bathroom so he could clean it. He detransmuted and took off his undamaged t-shirt.

“Let me help you.” Ken offered, pulling out a thin roll of microfiber bandage.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Obviously. Stop being so stubborn about it.

“Che. Whatever.”

The reason Joe didn’t manage to dress his wound yet was because he could only use one arm, and as soon as he put the towel down and grabbed the antiseptic spray, more blood poured out. Blood, which had to be wiped away.

Ken quickly patted the wound as dry as possible and sprayed it with a fine orange powder. It would stem the bleeding, but not for very long, so he had no time to spare.

“Do you think Katse is still here?” Joe asked, looking straight ahead. Ever since Ken started to tend his wound, he didn’t move a muscle.

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“That damn bastard always loves to play with his food, doesn’t he? Especially when he thinks he’s winning.”

“Yeah, that’s right. And what do you plan to do once we reach him?” there was caution in Joe’s voice.

“I’m going to strangle him with my own two hands.”

“Weren’t we ordered to unmask him and bring him to justice?”

Ken tensed up. He knew that was going to be one of those conversations. He noticed that Jinpei was definitely not paying attention to their talk.

“Unmask him? So what if we know his face. He’s a murdering psycho no matter what face he has. And you know how stubborn those Galactor bastards can be. Even if we put him behind bars, they’ll most likely retaliate in the best way they know. By murdering innocents. And this time my father isn’t there to protect them.”

“Ken…”

“I’ll never forget that bastard. I’m going to crush him with my own two hands. Galactor will crumble.”

“And then what? How many politicians you think are out there, who have been working for them in secret? How many hidden stashes of nuclear weapons are there? How many mechas just waiting to fall into wrong hands? He’s the best person to get the intel out of.”

“Yeah. By battering our eyelashes at him. You know just as well as I do that he’d never say anything purely out of spite. He might even have his people at ISO and use them to pass messages. Or even to escape. Then we’d have to start all over. Do you want that?”

By then the wound was all but forgotten, both the Eagle and Condor glaring at each other like a pair of angry tomcats, in spite of the fact that Ken was still busy wrapping a bandage around Joe’s upper torso.

“I’d like you to have more trust in ISO. Do you think hakase is stupid enough to let that happen? We’re not talking some lame-ass prison here. Maximum security at the very least.”

“No plan is foolproof.”

“So the best way is to go over dead bodies?”

“We haven’t spent all this time convincing all those Galactors to lie down and die, have we?”

“You are just bending the facts the way it suits you! You’ve been blinded by revenge!”

“Yeah? Well look who’s talking! Galactor killed your parents as well! You want your revenge too! How many children like us are out there?!”

“Boys, could you please stop arguing? If you are so hot on deciding whether or not to kill Berg Katse, why don’t you leave it until you actually capture him?” Jun asked softly, walking out of the bathroom.

Seeing how pale her face was and how faint the voice, they had to stop their quarrel.

“Oneechan, are you okay?” Jinpei jumped down from a sofa and ran towards his sister.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry. I just need to rest a bit. What have you got there, Ken?” she asked, pointing at the sketchbook.

“Oh yes. I found this lying in here. Look at the last picture. What do you think about that person?”

He came over as well, showing her the last picture.

“Isn’t he the one we thought was Berg Katse?” she asked, giving him a look of surprise.

“Yes. But… well, I’m not so sure anymore. So what do you think?”

He moved the sketchbook closer and she finally turned her attention back to the drawing. He didn’t want to have another discussion with Jun, especially when he started to think that he might have been wrong.

“Well, he obviously doesn’t feel very safe. Or maybe he went through some kind of trauma in his past.”

“How can you tell?”

“His posture. See the way he’s lying at the foot of the bed? That’s the last place an attacker would hit. Then there’s the way he’s curled. He’s trying to display as little surface as possible. And almost all of his vitals are protected as well.”

“So you think he’s scared of the mansion?”

“Not necessarily. Once you learn to sleep in any way, it’s hard to change the habit.”

“But what about the girl?”

“I think she probably came in later. You can see that there is a connection from her to him, but not vice versa.”

“And what does it say about the artist?”

Jun glanced up at her commander and returned the sketchbook to him.

“I don’t know. I’m not an artist.”

“Right. So, team, we’re going to take turns like before, but this time it’s by five hours. I’ll start with Jinpei, since you two need rest. And when we change shifts, if there is anything suspicious, anything, you will wake me up. Do not engage the enemy otherwise.”

The team nodded without any objections. Jun was much too weak to complain and Joe possibly didn’t want to start another fight.

Unfortunately unlike in the previous room, there was only one sofa in the atelier, nothing else. Not even a carpet. The vote was three against one for Jun to take it, while Joe lay down on the floor. Both fell asleep as soon as they closed their eyes.

Ken bit his lip.

Out of the five of them, one was out of the picture completely, and two have been injured in a way which prohibited any greater physical excretion. Another was too young for any serious (read bloody and violent) battle. He was the only professional combatant left. In a building, whose layout warped and shifted. Facing god knows how many unspeakable monstrosities. While searching for a bona-fide escape artist.

He heaved a sigh.

The score didn’t look so good.

Big Bird, Little Bird




“So have you found anything?” Ken asked quietly about an hour later, when he was sure that G-2 and G-3 were fast asleep.

“Yeah, I have.” Jinpei whispered back, sitting down at Ken’s side. “This house has been built by a guy named Alden MacNab. Doctor Alden MacNab. There used to be a different house here, one belonging to Joshua MacNab, but that one burnt down. The whole family died in the fire except for Alden, who had been studying physics at Oxford at the time.”

“Cause of fire?”

“Not specified, but outdated power grid was blamed. Apparently it started in the basement and ended up suffocating everyone with carbon monoxide; man, that’s horrible. “

“Damn. Any ties with Galactor?”

“Nope, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t find anything at all. But as I said, I don’t have any access to the main U.N. database. Although…”

“Yes?”

Jinpei scratched his helmet, peering at the small display, going through his findings once again.

“It’s a bit strange for a building as big as this to have such a short entry… It looks like someone erased a good portion of it. There’s hardly anything about who actually lives here and why is it so big.”

“I thought that might’ve happened. Can you tell me something about that Alden guy?”

“Forty-eight years old. Studied at Oxford, graduated from physics with honours, diploma in mathematics and astrophysics. Spent eight months at a mental hospital when he was nineteen.”

“Mental hospital? Why?” Ken arched an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t say, but since he lost his whole family around that time, that might be the reason.”

“Yeah. That could be it.”

Jinpei put his palmtop away, stood up and stretched his back. The lack of food and proper rest was starting to leave its marks.

“Oh man, first he loses his family, then some kind of monsters invade his house… “

“And that’s why I have to kill the biggest monster of them all.”

“So you want to kill him after all?” Jinpei asked warily. During Ken’s conversation with Joe, which was impossible not to hear, his older-brother-person turned into a frightening agent of revenge. Jinpei was a little bit afraid to discuss these matters with him, though a small voice in his head kept telling him that Ken was just putting on airs before because he had been so angry.

“Yes. That’s what I’m going to do. That bastard killed my father before I got any chances to get to know him better.”

Jinpei fidgeted with his fingers for a moment. He knew the next remark would put him on a very thin ice indeed.

“…but aniki. Me and oneechan and Joe-aniki as well, we all have lost our parents, and still we…” he let the sentence trail off into nothingness.

Ken seemed to have understood.

He gave Jinpei a hard glare and answered only after a rather long while of silence.

“…yes, I suppose you’re right. But none of you know who exactly killed them. Of course you won’t have such a need for revenge, if you don’t have anyone to direct it against. But I know exactly whose fault that was. And then he dares to mock me. Once I have wrung his neck, Galactor will fall, and your families will be avenged as well. I will never forgive him that father died just after we were reunited. All that time I was waiting… hoping that one day this would happen, and then Katse… But… I shouldn’t be saying this to you, since you’re still a kid. Go to sleep, if you’re tired. I’ll hold guard alone.”

“No, way. I’m staying here.” Jinpei exclaimed and to make his point, he sat on the ground and crossed his arms and legs.

“Fine. Do as you wish.”

During the next several minutes neither of them spoke or even looked at the other. There was no clock in the room, and although it was ridiculously easy to imagine its steady toc-toc-toc, the room didn’t seem complete without it. Perhaps it was for the lack of sound that Jinpei said:

“You know, you don’t have to always treat me like a kid, aniki.”

“But you are a child.”

“I’m a warrior.”

Ken scoffed. Rather than inciting his anger, this made Jinpei sad.

“… I killed Galactors as well…” he muttered.

This remark surprised Ken and now that he thought about it, yes, Jinpei was right. But still. There’s killing and then there’s killing.

“Yes, that’s true. But you have killed because they were there, and because you knew that if you wouldn’t do it, they most certainly would. This is something different.”

“I can’t see how.”

Ken heaved a sigh. He didn’t know how to explain it properly, and so he decided to abandon the topic altogether.

Part of him wished they were back in cities or jungles or deserts, fighting Galactor head-on. At least their roles were clearly defined. In this strange place it was hard to tell who was a victim and who the enemy. There was a great danger in that. If there was no goal or foe or anything to focus his attention on, he could start to second-guess himself; and he couldn’t afford to let that happen. A true leader’s resolve had to be diamond-hard and sharp as an obsidian scalpel. Without it, he couldn’t hope to avenge or protect anyone. Without it, he would be a lost man.

Decision



Maureen sat at the edge of her bed. Or at least the bed which looked like it was hers. In the replica of her room. She was dead-sure that this was neither her room nor her house. Somehow those monsters made copies of everything. Flawed copies. She didn’t remember her room being so big and so white; the bed also used to be smaller. She wasn’t sure why they did this.

What if they like to eat children?

She shuddered.

“This is your family, you know. You weren’t kidnapped.” His voice appeared in her head.

Maureen pressed her fists against her eyes and did her best to make it disappear. When she withdrew them, they were stained with tears. In that moment it didn’t matter that it wasn’t her room and her house. From the recess above her bed she grabbed a big plush bird, and holding it close, she sobbed into its chest. She wasn’t truly crying anymore, having lost the strength to do so. How many times had she sat like that already?

Where did it all go wrong?

She tried to remember the last time she was happy. It was at that family picnic; but that seemed so long ago… Things were bad even before those monsters kidnapped her. Her big brother died. That was the start. Both momma and papa had been extremely proud of Joshua, though if Maureen had to be perfectly honest with herself, he was the person she liked the least. Not that she didn’t love him. Not at all. But he was always someplace else; at his boarding school, on school trips, visiting special lectures, and so forth. Even when he was at home, he spent most of the time locked in his room studying. During meal-times he often discussed difficult sounding things with his parents, making Maureen feel left out.

Yes, everyone always praised Joshua. Everyone told him how clever he was. Gave him prizes or shining trophies.

And Maureen?

She was told she should be happy for her brother’s sake, and so she was, even if she secretly wanted to throw all those diplomas and trophies away and run to her room crying. Once she confided this to Doctor Agatha, who had been papa’s friend for as long as she could remember. She thought that Doctor Agatha would get mad at her, but the old lady only patted her head and invited her for hot chocolate.

Agatha was now gone as well.

Maureen saw someone looking like her in the hallways, but she never tried to even talk to her. Not since she woke up in that sick room, feeling very confused and light-headed. Doctor Agatha was there and Maureen called out to her, but when the woman looked at her, when she spoke, there wasn’t a trace of the real Doctor Agatha. This one didn’t even seem to remember Maureen.

Then there was George.

The moment she saw him for the first time, Maureen knew that he was the one who would rescue her. Yet he said such a terrible thing. Yet he hurt her.

Maybe he’s just confused.

She thought to herself. She knew she was when the same happened to her. That time, when she mistook that monster for her papa.

Yes, he’s probably just confused.

It never came to her mind to doubt his morals and motives. She had to believe in him, because he was the one who would rescue her, and as such he couldn’t be a bad person. He would protect her and lead her out and bring her back to her real family. For sure. After all, he had the appearance of someone from another world.

Imagining herself clinging to him, and him lifting her up and carrying her off to safety, she suddenly felt a pang of guilt. How could she be angry at him when she herself ran away when he was in trouble? She never helped him out with that Aratron person even though she was aware of his location. Yes, she was afraid. But didn’t magical girls always overcome their fears?

She jumped off her bed, the toy bird still in her arms, and went over to the aquarium.

It was also a copy from her real room, the aquarium. It was huge. Gigantic. A three by five metre tank, sitting on a stone pedestal. Its bottom was covered by pebbles she and Sue carried in from a nearby river. The memory of her father, boiling them on the stove to sanitize them, was still vivid within her mind. Several water plants had been planted here and there and a single fish swam sluggishly around. A huge one, with triangular fins and a snake-like tail. Her fish Matsya. Looking at her always made her calm. Matsya never fussed about anything. She just floated here and there, nibbled on plants or pellets Maureen threw her, and that was about it.

Maureen set her toy bird carefully on the ground, and pressed her hands and forehead against the cold plexiglass.

Yes, I can’t just run away all the time. I’m a big girl. I have to do something as well. I might be okay, but George isn’t. He’s got those bird people chasing him; and those monsters. I’m not sure about the bird people, but as Angel Girl White Snowdrop I can definitely help him. And then he’ll take me to momma and papa.

…papa…

I’ve been such a bad girl. I was mean to you. I’m so sorry. Please let me return back…

She wiped her tears again. Indeed, she had been bad.

After her brother had passed away, momma started to walk round, saying it was all papa’s fault. That unlike her he didn’t work hard enough. That their son meant nothing to him. That he didn’t care about the family.

Maureen never understood why was everyone so mean, but she sided with momma because when momma was angry, she could be very scary, even though she always apologized in the end. Maureen would’ve preferred if momma didn’t apologize, for when she did, it always made her feel a little bit guilty.

If only everything would turn back to normal. I want my momma and papa back. But… what if they will say that it was my fault big sister died?

She bit her lip.

Matsya swam closer to her. It was, most likely, her Matsya, for the fish seemed to recognise her, swimming closer when she came in. She never did it with anyone else. Her Matsya.

“I’ve been doing nothing but crying, haven’t I? I’m such a crybaby.”

Matsya made a small circle as if she was saying that it doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll be gone for a while. I have to help George. When I help him, I’m sure he can bring both of us back home to momma and papa.”

She pulled a step ladder out of a recess in the aquarium stand, unfolded it, and grabbed a tub of fish food. The aquarium was so big, she had to climb about nine steps to get to the top and pull the lid away.

Matsya swam closer, and for the first time in a long while, Maureen smiled again. Right now that fish was as dear to her as her own family. It was the bond to her normal life. And to think she first got her as such a tiny little thing… now it was even bigger than her.

She emptied the tub in the water, slid the lid back and put the ladder where it belonged. Then she ran to her small jewel box (originally containing delicious chocolates from the chocolatiers at the Gendarmenmarkt in Berlin - a souvenir from Agatha), from where she took a pair of silver earrings. The ones her mother gave her. Since she had always been so lively, running everywhere, climbing trees, and exploring the woods, she was afraid she would lose them. And so she put them in the box, where they would be safe.

Now she knew the time had come when she needed them.

It hurt a little, to stick them through the plugged holes of her ears, but bigger was her wish to go back home; and the concern for George’s safety.

One last time she glanced over her shoulder at Matsya, whose eyes reflected the light, giving off a bright green glow, and then she left the safe haven of her room.

Wait for me, George. Here I come.

Laughter and Pain



“I still have enough strength to smack you good, Ken.” Jun said through gritted teeth when her leader offered he would stay awake until dawn so she could get ten hours of sleep instead of just five.

She didn’t appreciate him being so thoughtful. Or rather, being thoughtful when it was least appropriate.

“And you, Joe?”

“Sod off and go to sleep, stupid.” Was Joe’s answer. Both Jun and Jinpei sniggered.

“Okay then. But if you hear anything fishy, wake me up immediately.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Joe mocked a salute.

Ken made himself comfortable on the floor and fell asleep within a few moments, though not as fast as Jinpei, who had been dozing off for the last hour.

“Are you okay, Jun?”

Joe asked once it was obvious that they wouldn’t wake the two sleepers up.

“Yes. We’re ninjas, aren’t we? What’s a little pain?” She smiled at him, though, in reality, the wound in her side throbbed painfully.

“Yeah, you’re right. But once we get out, remind me to buy the both of us a drink.”

“I will.”

Jun smiled and sat down, her back against the window. Smile. Smile. Smile, smile, smile. That was all she had to do to fool them. Smile, even though her last visit in the bathroom revealed redness, surrounding the wound. Infection. Smile.


Smile!

A girl's mask is her defence until the end!

I have to work, for the sake of tomorrow.


Jun was genuinely amused that she remembered those words now of all the moments.

“What’s so funny?” Joe asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just remembered a song I’ve heard.”

“Speaking of songs, will you play the guitar again when we get beck?”

“Joe, when we return, I’ll grab the guitar and play even ‘Smoke on the water’ for you if you want. I even have a Fender guitar. Though not the Stratocaster.”

“Whoa. Someone’s quite knowledgeable.”

“It’s not just make-up, you know.”

“But you’ll do the singing as well.”

“No. If I’m the guitarist, then vocals are your responsibility.” She said and almost immediately dissolved into stifled laughter, imaging Joe as Ian Gillan and herself as Ritchie Blackmore.

“No. No, you’ve got it completely wrong. I’ll be Roger Glover and Ken will be Ian Gillan; and Jinpei is Jon Lord and Ryu Ian Paice.”

“Ahahahaha- ouch…” her wound hurt even more from all that laughter.

“You alright, Jun?” The Condor asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Ah… is it okay with you if I go to the bathroom for a moment?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

“Be right back.” She said with a smile and tried to walk as steadily as possible.

Inside she detransmuted and almost immediately blood soaked through her garments.

“Damn…” she hissed and spontaneously looked in the mirror.

It showed her someone she didn’t want to see. Someone in pain. Someone scared.

But I’m not scared. I’m a ninja. I’m trained for these things.

She removed her shirt, grabbed some toilet paper and used it to clean her wound. Such a bad timing, she kept telling to herself. Finally, after such a long while, she had a good time talking to Joe, and the wound just had to reopen. It was so much fun, to talk to someone about her interests. About music. About Deep Purple.

Her hand paused for a second.

The world ‘purple’, the colour, had a peculiarly bitter taste to it. Purple was the colour of the cape belonging to the one, who gave her this wound.

She grasped the toilet paper tighter.

Damn him, and his world-domination schemes. Doesn’t he realise how ridiculous he is?

She often imagined him as Wile E. Coyote. Ridiculous plans, zero success. Why couldn’t he comprehend that he’d never succeed and just give up? Then again, Doctor Nambu often theorized that their enemy is probably insane. No use applying common sense to a person like that.

“You feeling fine, Jun?”

“Yes, don’t worry about me. Or do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I was just worried.”

“Well, you worry too much. I’ll be done in a second.”

Lukewarm water filled the plugged sink almost to the brim. Grabbing all the used bandages, she submerged them and squeezed them several times. Blood came off, dyeing the water pink. All that was needed was to rinse them a second time in a weak solution of some disinfectant. Jun was out of hers from the previous use, nevertheless there was a bottle of good old peroxide in the cabinet.

She finished re-wrapping her injuries, drained the water, and was about to leave, but then she noticed that the sink acquired a telltale reddish film of blood.

“Damn.” She uttered and stooped over it.

The last thing she wanted was to make everyone worry even more for her sake, and so she had to obliterate all the evidence she could. If her injuries were kept under cover and all signs of their presence destroyed, it would be easier for everyone to forget about them.

Pressing the head of the soap dispenser a couple of times, she furiously rubbed the porcelain with camomile-scented liquid and rinsed it with water. It was quite easy. Gently patting her forehead with toilet paper, she breathed a sigh of relief and straightened up, only to be lose firm ground under her feet. She had to grab the sink to steady herself. By then she had just about enough of the bathroom. Transmuting into her BirdStyle, she returned to the welcomed presence of Joe and her sleeping teammates.

“Are you alright?” Joe asked, serious look in his eyes. He had most likely heard the noise she made when she lost her balance.

“Yes. I got just a bit light-headed. Christ, I want some food… a kingdom for a cheeseburger.” She sighed, trying to make her wish sound as heart-felt as possible in hopes of turning Joe’s attention to something less bothersome. It wasn’t very difficult as it felt like a month since they had a bite to eat.

“Cheeseburger? Shouldn’t you wish for something, I don’t know, more ladylike?”

“Fine. Make it a quarter-pounder. Make it two. With a nice salad, and chocolate ice cream, and strawberries; and a beer. You?”

“Bracioline alla Palermitana and a six-pack. And cannoli.”

“Brawhatwasit?”

“It’s cutlets with cheese, pine nuts, sultanas and stuff. Delicious. And cannoli are a type of a dessert. They’re these little tubes filled with stuff. I used to love them as a kid. Mom used to make them every Sunday.”

Joe got all misty-eyed, relieving his childhood memories. It made Jun twice as happy as she hoped. Not only was her original mission accomplished, she also got Joe to talk about his family, which happened about as often as Ken, talked about his.

“So did your mom cook a lot?”

“Well, not really. She was quite busy over the week, managing only dinners at best. Dad was the same. But on weekends she used to spend almost the whole day in the kitchen. Nearly every Saturday we had guests coming over and several of them insisted on helping her out. I don’t know what did they used to talk about, but they always laughed. Sometimes they even started to sing. It… it never occurred to me as something strange, but now that I think about it, it’s like remembering some cheesy musical. The only thing that’s missing is dad and his friends, doing a little dance number.” Joe finished wistfully and Jun laughed, covering her mouth.

She had no idea what kind of man Joe’s father was, nevertheless she was sure he wasn’t the type to frolic with friends Sound of Music-style.

“So what about children? Where there any other kids around?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. We used to run around and play bandits and cops, steal cannoli and get into trouble. No matter how well we hid, dad would always find us. I remember that one day, it was July the fifteenth, the festival of Saint Rosalia, we stole a whole tray of pignolata and hid in the hayloft, but the ladder fell down. It was too high to jump and we didn’t have the guts to call our parents.”

“So how did you get down?”

Joe paused and his forehead creased a little.

“Well… there was this guy. I think. Now that I think about it, he was still a kid himself. In his teens. He walked past and noticed us, so we asked him if he could put the ladder back up. He did. We climbed down and about three minutes later dad found us anyway and we had to spend the whole evening washing the dishes.”

“Was there something strange about that kid?” Jun asked, her curiosity piqued even more.

“I dunno,” Joe shrugged “but the festival of Saint Rosalia is one of the biggest ones. Everyone looks forward to it. But that kid… He had this odd expression… I remember I actually asked him if he was lost or something, because he looked as if he wasn’t aware of any of that. As if he wasn’t aware of anything at all. Plus, he didn’t look like a local.”

“Did you manage to find out who he was?”

“Not really. Just that he was my parents’ acquaintance. I saw him with mom a couple of times. And occasionally he discussed something with dad. But whenever I asked who that was, mom told me to finish my homework and dad said I should go and clean up my room. I think I used to know his name, but it’s been so long, I forgot.”

“Strange…”

“Yeah. I eventually forgot about him as well, because soon afterwards my parents were… well, you know the history. It’s been ages since I thought about him or anyone else in Sicily. But now, looking back, I can see that scene as clearly as if it happened yesterday. Him, holding that ladder. I was the first one to climb down. I looked him right in the eyes and suddenly it felt like the ground was much deeper than I first thought.”

“Hmm… that’s really odd. Nevertheless I have to admit I envy you. I wish I had any memories of my parents…”

“Well, you’ve got Jinpei. And us.”

He sat down next to her and patted her shoulder.

“We can make plenty memories together. Say, when we get back, let’s go out for a race, some cheeseburgers, and a beer. I’m paying. Promise.”

“You’re paying? Whoa, I think I’m hearing things.”

“I know. Just… don’t get used to it.” he grinned.

“Scum. I’ll make sure to eat your whole tab’s worth of hamburgers then.”

“Very well then, let’s have a race.” He said, offering Jun his hand. She shook it and the grin, appearing on her gentle lips, made him suddenly feel very afraid for his wallet.

Distortion of Outside the Door




It was time to leave. Ken informed the team curtly, using as few words as possible.

Three hours into his duty Jinpei had fallen asleep, and so Ken had some time to mull things over. He had serious trouble with finding anything positive about their situation. No one complained yet, not even Jinpei, but ever since they’ve set at foot in the house, they haven’t had even a bite to eat. There was only water around. No food. He knew that people could last for weeks without any, however Jun and Joe lost a significant amount of blood and the whole lot of them needed nutrition so they could fight on. No one said anything, which meant that they knew how serious this was.

He had to find Katse as soon as possible. He knew that once he’d find and kill him, the rest of their problems would solve themselves.

I bet that bastard is stuffing himself with food somewhere and laughing at our misery.

He opened the door. The room he stepped into was definitely different from the one before, however by then he learned that in that house nothing was as it seemed, and so he didn’t comment.

“Whoa! Look at this place! It changed completely!”

Unlike Jinpei, who couldn’t contain his surprise.

“Yes, it’s really odd, isn’t it?” Jun chimed in.

Instead of a hallway, they were overlooking a completely empty, round room. There were two doors at the far end. Unlike the pale blue one to the right, the other, pitch-black one had a little plate on it with a trident-shaped sign. He pursed his lips together and turned its knob.

As soon as he cracked the door open a familiar stench hit his nose. The hallway reeked of death. Blood, excrements, decaying flesh. So powerful it was, it diverted one’s attention from the layout of the corridor itself. Every surface was covered by the same unnerving pattern of crudely drawn eyes and black geometric shapes and lines.

“Ken. Look, over there.” Jun whispered.

Not that she needed to.

Two gangly, wiry monsters feeding noisily on a corpse stood out quite prominently.

Ken didn’t wait for anything and hurled his boomerang at the taller of the two. Its elongated head didn’t even manage to turn around to face its death when blood from a severed jugular splattered all over the wall, joining the already dried stains from its victim.

He shot out, catching his boomerang as it returned. He didn’t wait for the rest of the team. Two of them were injured, the third one just a kid. Besides, this was his war. He lost his father. It was up to him to avenge him.

It was not difficult at all.

Unlike the monster-girl, these fellas were much too slow. The first one didn’t even dodge. It was easy. Much too easy. Just like killing those brainless thugs of Katse’s.

Useless. It’s completely useless to kill these small fries. Until I get Katse, I can cut them up all I want. He won’t even care. That bastard doesn’t have the tiniest bit of decency. How can he just disregard his own troops’ lives like that? Surely many of them are parents. Fathers. Their children will never see their fathers again, and why? Because of some megalomaniac’s stupid plans? Ridiculous.

Once he got close enough, he swung his boomerang in a wide arc and slashed diagonally across the torso of the second fiend. Ribs split in two as if they were made of rubber. It didn’t feel like he hit anything solid. The body of its comrade, lying on the floor in the puddle of its liquids, begun to dissolve, disappearing into nothingness. Like his father. He disappeared as well, but into a bright light instead of darkness (and how symbolic was that?). One minute he was there, his voice was there, his fist was there, and then he was gone as suddenly as he reappeared. An empty casket was buried. Hollow. How sad was it, to have nothing but a grave-stone to pay his respects and show his affections to?

“Ken! Stop it!”

Jun’s shout brought him to reality.

In his confusion he blinked. What was wrong? He turned around and saw Joe, Jinpei and her, all looking at him as if he became a possibly dangerous stranger. His beak-shaped visor was dripping with ichor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wiping the boomerang on his wings and holstering it.

“Ken. You are scaring me.” She whispered.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Disregarding his injuries, Joe grabbed Ken under his neck and slammed him into the wall.

“Ken. Jesus, get a grip.” He snarled.

“I. Don’t. Understand.” Ken replied in the same manner.

“You ran out on your own. You behaved like some sort of a psycho. You’re supposed to be the leader, aren’t you? So how about you cool your jets.”

“You and Jun are injured. Jinpei is still a kid. I can’t let you guys fight them. I’m the only one who can.”

“So that’s your excuse for pulling a Leeroy Jenkins? Screw that, man. We’re a team, not some fragile porcelain figures you have to protect. So pull your shit together, otherwise you’ll end up hurt.”

“I’m going to kill Katse with my own two hands.”

“Well, good on you, mate, and do go ahead. But before you do that, how about you return to good ol’ team work?”

Ken looked at his team’s faces. Both Jun and Jinpei looked anxious. Joe was mad. Wrong. This was all wrong. They were supposed to have the usual look of determination. When did it vanish from their eyes? Was it his fault? He bit his lip. The feeding place of those monsters was a pool of gore. An abstract painting of decay and futility. Was it really his handiwork? Yes. Yes it was. The handiwork of his anger.

“…fine. You’re right. Sorry.” He said, hoping he sounded earnest.

Joe cracked a grim smile and loosened his grip.

“I know how you feel, man. But this is the time when the team needs you the most.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Shhh.” Jun hissed suddenly.

Both Ken and Joe gave her a questioning look. Her head was turned to the side, eyes shut.

“I can hear something. A laughter. Familiar.”

Joe finally let go as he pricked his ears up as well, while Ken’s eyes grew steely once more.

“It’s Katse. Let’s go.”

Yes, the anxiety and anger were gone, determination back. This was how it was supposed to be – the five… well, four of them advancing as a team. But revenge will be his and his alone.

Empty Confrontation



They ran. This time Jinpei lead the way, as Ken, restraining every ounce of his being, held Jun’s hand wrapped around his shoulder. His other arm was slung around her waist. The tide of urgency and hate bursting forth as soon as he heard that infamous cackle was held at bay only by the warmth he felt through the fabric of his uniform. The warmth and the knowledge that his hand is placed on her delicate hip. Their bodies were so close. He could feel her chest expanding with every breath. Even the beat of her heart. Somehow those sensations mingled together with the anger and violence, creating a strange, but all-encompassing mixture.

There – the arched doorway. It lead to a shrine of million eyes.

There – the priest and the sacrifice.

Berg Katse held the one they came to recognise as ‘Hagith’ under the throat.

The long-haired man didn’t fight. Was he already dead?

…no.

“Ah, there you are, you simpletons. Enjoy this meeting of ours, Gatchaman, for it will be our last.”

Ken let go of Jun and hurled his boomerang at the hated enemy. It didn’t reach. After barely three metres of flight it bounced away. For the first time he noticed there was some sort of a barrier around Katse and Hagith.

“…but first of all, I’ll have fun with this one.”

Katse said gleefully and grabbed something from under his cloak. A scalpel. He thrust it between his victim’s ribs. For a split of second a grimace distorted ‘Hagith’s’ features, before his face returned to its previous vacant expression. A brief uneasiness flashed through the crimson submerging Ken’s mind. Those blue-grey eyes. Dull and lifeless. Was he really still alive?

“Noooo! George!!!” a scream deafened any other noise for a second.

A little girl appeared from another hallway.

“George! Wake up! You have to wake up!” she cried, slamming her hands against the barrier.

Katse let go of the man, who collapsed on the floor in a heap. He went over to the little girl and stooped to her eye-level.

“You think you will be able to help him? … I knew it. I always thought you are a nuisance. We should’ve never included you.” He said almost gently.

Those words stifled the girl’s voice better than any gag. She stared at him for a while, unable to say a word.

“None of us really care about you. After all, you are just an obnoxious, brainless little brat. Now I’m going to hurt this person you care so much about. I’m going to hurt him enough to turn him into a monster. Then you can be friend. You should be grateful that I look after you like this. Hahaha. Hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Katse laughed so hard, he had to clutch his sides, and then he turned to the Science Ninjas.

“Oh. So you’re still here. Didn’t scoot yet, I see…”

“Leave them alone, freak-show!” Ken yelled, swinging his boomerang like a knife.

It slid down the barrier, which had the form of some organic, veined membrane, much like the greater omentum of mammals. Despite its softness and pliability it didn’t yield under the sharp edges of his boomerang.

“Or what, Gatchaman?”

“We’ve managed to beat you before, we’ll beat you now as well. It’s just a matter of time. You know you can never win.”

Katse just smirked and turned back to the unmoving man (Hagith? George?) on the floor.

“So pathetic. I don’t understand…” He said softly and put his foot on the other man’s throat. “I don’t understand at all. Why does Galactor even bother with the likes of you? So… fucking pathetic.” he said softly, revelling in the way he pronounced the swear-word.

The purple-gloved hand pulled a long, this blade from under the cloak. Both its edges were serrated and it wasn’t completely flat. Both sides of its spine were somewhat raised, creating a dreadful weapon which could cause massive bleeding. He put his foot away and aimed at the throat. His victim didn’t attempt to stop him. Didn’t even flinch. Katse brought the blade down and-

“NOOO!”

Blood flowed, but from the upper arm instead of the jugular.

“This one was for you, Maureen.” He sneered and lifted the blade again. “But I’ll make the other one count.”

He smiled.

The blade descended again, drops rolling up.

There was a wet sound as flesh was pierced and then a scream.



Katse, the real Katse, didn’t see any point in much about anything. His identity was gone, what had been left of his humanity vanished as well. He realised that he spent his whole time in that house just blindly flailing about without doing anything worthwhile. And not just the house. He ignored or killed everything which threatened to touch him, blind to everything which couldn’t forward Sousai’s plans. Sousai’s, not his. His ideas of his own future were vague at best. The goal he fought for was Sousai’s not his, and since he didn’t know Sousai’s true objective, what was it he fought for in the first place? Behold, the reason for all those failures. Failure after failure after failure.

So pointless.

He was tired. After a while he decided to lie down and rest. He saw the other Katse (?) arrive, but it was too much of an effort to get up and escape. After all, those bad things would happen anyway, whether he fought them or not. So he decided to give up. At least it would be over faster.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Whatever was bound to happen would happen no matter how much he tried to prevent or hasten it.

Besides, he was so tired.

Few moments passed. Like through a dark screen or a dim mirror perhaps, he saw the Science Ninjas bursting into the room. That didn’t matter. There was a stabbing pain in his chest. Or at least he thought there was. It might’ve been a memory just as well. He was quite sure that at some point during his past twenty-something years he had been stabbed there by someone. Humans. The very word ‘humanity’ contained sharp points and blades, and the smell of dust, and blood, and sweat. Then he heard laughter. His laughter. Was he laughing?

Well, that didn’t matter.

He noticed a long blade he hadn’t seen before. It pierced his arm. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least there were no doctors around. Or those wannabe soldiers playing army.

The blade dislodged itself and aimed at his throat. There was a shrill cry, like the voice of a bird. He assumed that his windpipe and jugular would receive an injury incompatible with life. But-…

…it never arrived.

He looked up.

The other Katse was nailed to the wall by a fleshy spear with curved blades jutting out of it. The real Katse followed it with his eyes to its other end and dully noticed that what pierced the other Katse’s shoulder was Maureen’s misshapen arm.

The little girl watched it with awe. It managed to pierce the barrier so effortlessly… She gazed at it with awe and steadily growing horror.

“IIIIIIIIieeeeeeeeeeee!!!” she shrieked, bashing her transformed arm with the little fist of her left hand. Tears were falling down her face. She was completely hysterical and after she managed to free her other limb, she reeled around the room. The Science Ninjas had to duck a couple of times to avoid being decapitated.

“NOOO!!! THAT’S NOT TRUE! I’M NOT A MONSTER! I’M NOT A MONSTER! I’M NOT A MONSTER! I’M MAUREEN, I’M NOT A MONSTER!”

“Damn right you showed me.” The other Katse laughed and, his left hand pressed to his injury, he escaped through a hidden doorway.

“I’m not a monster. I’m not a monster. George, please say so… please… say I’m not a monster…” Maureen sobbed as her arm slowly regressed to its human shape. It didn’t go all the way though – the skin remained reddish as if infected and the muscles it covered were uncannily pronounced and shaped.

No matter how hard she pleaded, the real Katse didn’t answer, averting his eyes and staring into the ceiling instead. Maureen’s reaction was markedly similar to his, however not even that managed to summon any kind of response from him. He had told her before, that she belongs to them. It didn’t help, as usual. What good would anything he might say do? Everything about him was empty. Existence, values, wishes for the future, memories of the past, and, naturally, even his words. He vaguely wished that the other Katse had killed him.

Maureen sobbed once more and then she ran away, covering her face.

He didn’t stop her, though he recognised that in the world of Hollywood movies it would be the right thing to do. He closed his eyes, wishing to sleep and never to wake up. Not even to die, no. Just to sleep. Sleep and hope he would have a nice dream, where he would be a person, who could accomplish anything without any pain and blood being involved.

“Hey, are you alright?” a voice said.

A reflex made him open his eyes.

Four ninjas stood above him.

Not that it mattered.

Ballad of a Sin Man



“Hey, are you alright?” someone has asked. He wasn’t sure who. He wasn’t even sure if it was a male or a female voice.

He just opened his eyes.

The Condor was hunched over him. Again those features. Something stirred in his memory. An overcast day. The smell of the sea. Cries of gulls.


“Gattino, I’d like you to meet someone.”

“…”

“Don’t look so worried. It’s alright. This is my husband Giuseppe.”

“Hello there. So Katarina calls you Gattino?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Call me Giuseppe.”

“Yes, Mr. Giuseppe.”

“I’ve been told that one day you might work together with me, so let’s get along.”

“Yes, sir.”


Katse tried to shake his head. No. That was all wrong. That couldn’t be. No way. No way in hell. Katarina and Giuseppe’s kid lived only few days longer than his parents. He had seen the report several years back.

But…

He also knew from first-hand experience how easy it was to falsify records. He could run away from this fact all he wanted. What kind of farce was it, to have Katarina’s child right in front of him as his mortal enemy? This was so tiring. He didn’t want to think about it, and yet he couldn’t avoid it. Nevertheless, come to think of it, couldn’t that be a good opportunity to bring the farce to an end?

“Can you hear me?” the Swan asked.

“I am Berg Katse.” Katse whispered.

Swan and Condor exchanged looks and then… smiled?

“Just take it easy. It’s alright. We’ll get you out of here.”

“No… I am Berg Katse…” he repeated louder.
Why didn’t they want to believe him? He was Berg Katse. Definitely. What was wrong with them?

“Fine. If you are Berg Katse, then how did you manage to steal the plans for the Mantle Project right out of our vaults?” The Eagle asked, looking down at him.

Mantle Project plans? Stolen? By me? No… wait… it did happen. I remember… but how? Those plans were stolen, but how? Why can’t I remember? I know that I have known at one point. But why can’t I remember now? My head…

A sudden realisation pulled on the emergency brake of the train of his thoughts. That wasn’t just some kind of denial or repression. It was that whine. The one, which felt like someone was stirring the miso soup of his brain with chopsticks. The whine, sent to him by the master of the house. Somehow Aratron erased his memories.

“If you are Berg Katse, then how did you kill my father?” the Eagle asked again. Softly, as if asking a child.

“…father?”

This time he was at a complete loss. He killed the Eagle’s father? Who was his father anyway?

“See? You can’t be Berg Katse. They just drugged you and made you believe you are, so you would lead us astray.”

Katse didn’t even know what to say. Just like that, his identity has been taken away. He wasn’t particularly fond of it. In fact, he would’ve been happier if he were anyone else, save for Berg Katse. A window-cleaner in New-York. An inn-keeper in Kyoto. A bobby in London. A soldier in Israel. A cook in Frankfurt. A wine merchant in Alsace. A fisher on East Frisian isles. A stoner-cutter in Turnov. A housewife/stay-at-home dad in Sicily. However Berg Katse was who he was. So if, in the eyes of the world, he wasn’t Berg Katse, who was he then? Did he, without any real documents, birth certificates or identity cards, even exist?

Ken took his silence as agreement and, along with Joe, tried to help him up on his feet.

“…no… I… I am Berg Katse…” Katse said bewilderedly.

Ken heaved a sigh and looked at Swan, who shrugged.

“I’m sure that Nambu-hakase will be able to help.” She said.

Hearing that, Katse’s foot slipped and he would’ve plummeted back to the ground, if it wasn’t for the Condor’s timely intervention.

“You fine?” he asked in that familiar growl.

The nose and cheekbones of Giuseppe. The eyes of Aunt Katarina. Katse’s hands and feet went cold. He wanted to tell a million things to this man, and yet, at the same time, he wanted to shoot him, because it was useless. He, Katse, wasn’t ‘Gattino’ anymore. And likewise this man, the Condor, wasn’t Giorgio. The only thing connecting them was hate. Well, used to be. Now he didn’t have even that.

He could imagine Aunt Katarina’s face if she saw this scene.

In that moment he completely lost the sight of what he was trying to accomplish.

He realized he wasn’t actually trying to accomplish anything in the first place. His whole effort was put into following Sousai’s orders. Sure, there was this ‘World Conquest’ thing, but what did it even mean? And more importantly, what did it mean to him? What was he going to do once he conquered it?

“Your name is Hagith, right? George Hagith?” the Swan asked.

Katse stared at her.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Hagith. We’ll get you out of here.”

He stood up. His shoulders were hunched and so the tangled mass of his hair fell over his face.

“Hey, easy now. You’ve been seriously injured.”

“Injured? I was injured?” he asked softly.

“…yes… stabbed. You are bleeding.” The Swan said carefully, eyeing him with a mixture of pity and worry.

Katse looked down. Indeed, there was a scalpel buried deep in his chest. He blinked a couple of times, trying to remember how did it got there. Did the Science Ninjas do this? Did he do it himself? Or was it the other ‘him’? He grabbed the handle and yanked it out, letting the scalpel fall to the ground. It hit the floor with a sharp clank. He had a feeling that he wasn’t bleeding anymore, yet his fingers were covered with crimson. He watched it dispassionately, trying to recall the last time he felt pain. There were still many memories left in his head. Unpleasant memories. Degrading ones. Pathetic ones. In all of them he was either completely alone and without mask, or wearing his uniform while surrounded by people. No one could testify that he was Berg Katse.

“You should sit down. How do you feel?” The Swan asked.

“Uhm… I’m not sure… I think I should have a nap. I’m sure everything will be much clearer once I had a nap. I just… have to find a bedroom…”

He started to walk, swaying a little in the beginning.

“Wait. You shouldn’t walk around here all by yourself. They have been targeting you, you know.”

Ken attempted to stop him, seeing that ‘Mr. Hagith’ was clearly too confused to know what’s best for him. He wanted to grab his arm and pull him back. It seemed so simple that he was caught completely off-guard when the doorway the man had just walked through melted, both sides snapping shut. His hand would’ve been crushed if it wasn’t for Joe’s speed. His second-in-command grabbed the top of his cloak and hurled him out of harm’s way.

Ken looked at the new wall with disbelief and ever-growing anger.

Now they were all gone.

Those meant to be protected.

Those meant to be punished.

It was time to decide on the next course of action.

“Damn. We’ll return for him later. First we have to catch up with Katse… Jun, how many charges do you have?”

“Three.”

“Fine. Then use two of them to blow that wall apart.” He pointed at the wall through with ‘Katse’ escaped.

“But…”

“Do it now. The sooner we catch that bastard the better.”

He saw Jun pursing her lips together but following his command nonetheless. He wasn’t worried about her. The ones on his mind were Joe and Jinpei. He could feel Joe’s resentment and Jinpei begun to show signs of severe lack of nutrition.

Damn. I’m failing them all. God damn it!

Jun begun with the countdown and he spread his wings in front of the team, protecting them from the shower of dust and pieces of concrete.

On the bright side, those two charges were enough to blow a hole in the wall, revealing a narrow-ish hallway, marked with drops of blood.

On the other…

He looked back at his team as they passed as quickly as possible through the closing wall. Two injured, one on the brink of starvation.

It’s up to me to protect them. I will kill that son-of-a-bitch if it’s the last think I’ll ever do in my life.

He ignored Jun’s protests and slung her arm around his shoulder so she could lean on him again.

Jun herself would’ve been grateful for this act of kindness, if it wasn’t for those eyes of his, overflowing with pure hate. Her anger overshadowed the pain. How dare Berg Katse make such a man out of their leader? In spite of that, her greatest wish was to get out of that house of madness. She had a bad premonition that if they wouldn’t escape soon, they would be reduced to nothing but demons, controlled by their lowest impulses. Once that would happen, even if they would leave the house, they would never be able to leave it completely.

The Waking of a Flower



Katse was aimlessly wandering around for quite a while, lost deep in his thoughts. He was wondering if he should have a bath first and then sleep or the other way around. Upon considering all possibilities he came to the solution that it all depended on quality of the facilities. He decided that if the bathroom he was bound to find pretty soon would turn out to be crappy, then he would take a bath first. If the bed would be too soft – or if there was none – then sleep would precede the soak. It was always better to go through the less pleasurable things first and leave the good things for later as a sort of a reward.

He hoped that there would be a shower gel with olive oil, or sandal wood, or ylang-ylang. And bath foam with the scent of green tea. Shampoo with mango and orange blossoms. He felt slightly ashamed when he caught himself thinking that. After all he was a man at the moment, so he should’ve been inclined to pick more masculine scents, but at least there was no one there to judge him.

Just like that he remembered the times he went to the beach with Aunt Katarina. He had been scared at first, but after she offered a helping hand (i.e. kicked him head-first in the water) he came to the conclusion that it was a lot of fun, to let himself be swayed by the currents of Mediterranean like some funky kelp. There was also that one time when they weren’t alone, joining a bigger group which included her husband, son, and several co-workers he remembered seeing at the base where he was undergoing behavioural training and hormonal modifications. Their presence made him feel really awkward, so he spent the whole time tucked away behind a big tuft of grass, watching others having fun. Aunt Katarina was too preoccupied with her lively son to pay attention to him, so he took it as a good opportunity to watch their interactions, wondering why his own mother wasn’t there and why he had never seen her before.

“Don’t you want to join them?” Giuseppe asked, holding a glass of grappa.

“I’m fine here.”

“You quite sure, piccolo? No one would hold it against you.”

Young Katse didn’t answer back then. He knew that it was his last summer there. That his training was about to reach another stage. He also realised that it was only a matter of formality for Giuseppe to pose such a question. The older man had been well aware what the answer would be, just as Katse predicted he’d be asked such a thing. Katse also knew that in reality Giuseppe wanted to keep him as far from his family as possible. That summer marked their third year working together. Even someone as disinterested in humanity as Katse could tell how much Giuseppe loved Katarina and Giorgio. Men like these were the most dangerous kind, for there was nothing they would shy away from when it came to protecting their loved ones.

He was just recalling the flower pattern on Aunt Katarina’s dress and the sparkle in her eyes as she played with her son when suddenly he was disturbed by an intrusive sound, coming from the present reality.

His feet stopped and he pricked his ears up.

Someone was crying. After a few moments there was a horrific, tortured scream and then more crying. His heart started to beat louder. He hoped it wasn’t Aunt Katarina.

Another scream.

No, it couldn’t have been. Aunt Katarina was a grown woman. This scream was child-like.

Fifty-three steps later he saw its origin.

He found himself in a rather neat room. It had a huge aquarium with a huge fish in it, lots of plush animals, and quite a few books as well. A girl’s room.

Maureen’s room.

She was sitting at the base of her bed, knife in her hand, and she… became monstrous.

Apparently she had tried to transform in this Angel Girl White Snowdrop persona of hers only to fail halfway through. Exposed muscle glistened under the white light of lamps, ‘Crimson Angel Garlands’ hung from her tummy. She was clutching one, trying to cut it off. As the knife slashed through, she let out another blood-curdling scream.

Then she noticed him.

The knife fell out of her hands and she showed him a ghastly smile as tears streamed from her puffy, reddish eyes.

“George… George… this is a dream… I know it is…”

“I don’t think so. It hurts, doesn’t it?” he stated the obvious.

“No. This is a nightmare. I’m sure I’ll wake up when it ends.” She answered, walking towards him while dragging the bloody appendages behind her. “I just need to die to wake up. But I’m scared. I need you to do it.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You’re the same as me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. But that’s fine. If I kill you first… you will wake up, and… and then you can wake me up. Now that’s an idea.”

“No. You don’t understand-“ he had hardly enough time to say that.

One of the fleshy tubes she was trying so hard to cut off whipped around. He jumped to the side. The tiles where he just stood were crushed, concrete underneath sustained a shallow dent.

“There is an animal in my head. A wolf I think.” She said, stepping towards him.

Her intestines acquired a life of their own, coiling around like angry serpents.

“Every day I can hear it him clearer.”

Whip. Crack. One of the bookracks was split into two, wood splinters and torn pages flying everywhere.

“Every day it would snarl and bark. When guests came, it would pant with anticipation. I had to bite myself so I wouldn’t bite others.”

Another near-invisible flash. He tried to dodge, but the intestine changed trajectory. It wrapped itself around his ankle and swung him across the room. He hit the aquarium. Though the acrylic glass didn’t crack, he himself saw stars.

“But then you arrived, George.”

He rolled over just in time to have his humerus crushed. His back arched and he gasped, the agony taking his breath away. In the matter of seconds the familiar icy feeling flooded his arm. The pain gradually subsided. His bone started to mend itself.

“I was so happy.”

Another blow landed on his chest, collapsing his rib-cage. He coughed out blood as both lungs were shredded by splintered bone.

“You know why I was so happy?”

She crossed the distance between them and stood above him with legs on each side of his hips while her intestines coiled around his throat, strangling him.

“I was so happy because when you were there, that wolf inside of me would whine and retreat with tail between its legs. The wolf inside of me knew that you are a strong person. A very, very strong person. Someone who would save me. Someone who would save us.”

Katse’s struggles grew weaker and weaker.

“I’ve only known wolves from fairy tales and stories. Like Little Red Riding Hood. Or the Beast of Gevaudan. Wolves are supposed to be in national parks and zoos, not inside of my head. Neither of us asked for it. So I have to use the wolf to help you to wake up so you can wake me up.”

The blackness of his vision was pierced by explosions of white light. His arms ceased their flailing.

“We should show the world the love we have inside our heart.”

Those words were the light which emerged from the darkness.

Suddenly he saw the world the way he had never seen it before. An infinite dark space filled with a myriad of intricate symbols of all colours, all of them ablaze. And below his feet, deep, deep below, there was something like a huge maelstrom, swallowing tiny, firefly-like specks. A column of light shot from within it.

One of those glyphs was right next to him. An ornament of pure azure light; or at least that’s how it used to look. Something brownish, a bit like rust, crept over it. He couldn’t stand seeing it in such state, so he used his own self to mend it.

In reality his fists grasped both intestines and jerked each in a different direction, tearing those tubes effortlessly off. Not giving Maureen any time to react, he turned over, kicking her feet from under her, sending her sprawling on the floor.

“See? I always knew...”

She smiled as his hands closed around her throat.

But his consciousness knew nothing of that. What he saw was the blue light becoming pure once again, however as he was about to remove the very last piece of rust, the light flickered and dissolved into millions of sparkles.

“…what?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He blinked several times. The world turned back.

For next several moments he remained completely motionless, his eyes wide open, the reality catching up with him. The heat under his hands was quickly disappearing.

There was blood everywhere. He was practically covered by it. He could feel it on his face. It matted his hair. The hundred-time witnessed scene from Uganda, Sarajevo, or Chechnya juxtaposed itself over that room. He rushed to the toilet and vomited, cold sweat covering his whole body.

He heard footsteps.

“Tut, tut, tut. That’s… regrettable.” A voice said. Aratron’s voice.

What was he supposed to do now? The light was gone. Was it Maureen? It was Maureen. Why was it gone? Where was it gone? Why did everything happen so quickly? Few minutes ago he was thinking about Aunt Katarina and the good times they shared. The times of cotton shirts and sandals.

“A bath. I need a bath. I’m completely soiled…” Katse whispered. He was quite sure that Aratron wouldn’t have any problems hearing that.

“A bath? Well, that’s easily done. Come.”

A hand grabbed his wrist and helped him up. He was lead to a different part of the house. The only thing he felt was the coldness of tiles under his feet. Aratron’s voice sounded kind, yet Katse had neither enough energy nor courage to look him in the eyes.

“Have a good, long soak. I’ve brought you some wine. I’m sure you wanted some, didn’t you? Do you need anything else?”

Katse didn’t answer, merely staring at the stream of hot water, filling the tub.

“Very well, I shall take my leave.”

He stared and stared – without actually seeing anything – until the tub was full and water ran over the edge. Then some misplaced common sense told him to stop the flow. He took all his clothes off, but instead of stepping in the steaming hot water, he grabbed one of the bottles which had been uncorked and placed on a nearby table. Not bothering with a glass, he thirstily emptied most of the first one. The heat of alcohol chased the iciness away. He took a deep breath, drank the rest and banged the empty bottle against the wooden desk. His hand automatically grabbed the second one, but for some reason he didn’t have enough strength to bring it to his lips, and so he just set it next to the tub and climbed in the water.

All he wanted was warmth.

Not just him, but the whole world felt like it froze over.

The Unificator



Three bottles of wine later Katse reached a serene sort of peace. He just sat in the tub enveloped by hot water, which had turned pink ever since it first washed over his skin. His long hair floated in the water like seaweed.

Footsteps returned. The same as before. He didn’t turn to look as the whole time he hadn’t been looking at anything in particular and was perfectly content with it.

“I do apologize, Hagith. I had something to take care of.”

Aratron spoke with an odd, matter-of-fact kind of regret.

“Your daughter.”

“Yes.”

“You knew what was happening.”

“In a sense.”

“In this world, parents protect their children. I know. I have killed both parents and children.”

“Yes, but I am not of this world anymore. My priorities changed appropriately. Besides, Phul isn’t truly gone. She made her mark. Her legacy is still here.”

“Legacy?”

“The triple spiral. Do you remember?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Everyone’s marks are there, save for Hagith. They are circuits. Elef-Kehe-Eynayim can connect only when all circuits are present.”

“What is Elef-Kehe-Eynayim?”

“He is a trans-dimensional being. Surely you are aware of the Everett theory. Imagine the branching realities as veins, sustaining and being sustained by the Being-the-Absolute. Elef-Kehe-Eynayim can synchronise them. He can bridge them.”

“Oh.”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it?

“…”

“But I have something I have to explain to you, for I’m afraid you might have misunderstood a bit. I mean all those transformation. They stem from our hearts. From our fears. We fear becoming monsters, but at the same time we know that monsters are always stronger than humans, and so we subconsciously strive to become them. In reality the fusion of human DNA with Elef-Kehe-Eynayim’s essence creates new circuits. Nothing more, nothing less. It is our warped human nature that makes monsters out of us, yet at the same time our humanity is so strong, it resists even the essence, and so we still retain parts of our former selves. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Are we becoming like him then?”

“I don’t know, but my honest guess is that yes, we are.”

“So what do you wish for? A unified world? A world with no deception? Instrumentality?”

Aratron laughed, genuinely amused by Katse’s question.

“No, nothing like that. I’m no Gendo Ikari. I just… you can say I just want to see what does fate have in store for our world when an unknown factor such as Elef-Kehe-Eynayim has been introduced.”

“What if you die before you can see?”

“I don’t understand death. It is just another interesting variable to my equation.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have a bit of your wine?”

Katse shrugged. A hand grabbed the bottle he had been drinking from and took several gulps.

“Once I have left my legacy, is it okay if I just die?”

“I’m not sure what do you mean by that.”

“Will you be just as calm as when your own child died?”

“I’m not sure. You haven’t died yet, and so I can’t say anything for certain.”

“…I see.”

“So are you going to cooperate?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How come?”

“I don’t want the world to change.”

“But this world has nothing but hate and fear for you.”

“I know. But still.”

“But still – what?”

“…”

“Are you afraid?”

“…”

“Do you still have any unfinished business?”

“…What if no one will know I have been here? Doesn’t it mean I have never existed?”

There was a short silence, but then Aratron’s voice said, from the other side of the room:

“I don’t understand your need to have others affirm your existence, but my answer is – this is something you have to find out for yourself.”

“So why did you create my doppelganger?”

“Why? How do you know it’s your doppelganger, if you don’t know what’s inside the mask? But no. That isn’t the correct answer. We are just trying to free you from the bonds of this world. If the only thing which matters is the container instead of the content, then there is no need for the ‘you’ in front of my eyes to be the one inside of it. It’s pointless to continue trying to return to the world just because that’s what the world expects you to do. That reminds me of something. Do you know the opera Ariane? It’s fairly recent; sung in French.

“The story retells the legend of Theseus and the Minotaur, however there are several twists to it. For example Ariane. She is supposed to marry a stranger, who arrives at Thebes, but she didn’t actually know the stranger’s name or face. It could’ve been anyone, bearing the designation ‘Stranger’. However, even more interestingly, there is the conclusion. Minotaur in this version isn’t some kind of a fusion of man and a bull. He looks just the same as Theseus. He is slain in the end, but the real question here is – did Theseus kill Minotaur or the other way around? The only way you can tell is by the clothes they wear. Clothes they could’ve switched at some point for whichever reason. In the end what matters isn’t the truth, but the audience’s perception of it.

“Think about it for a while. There is no place for you to return to. The only thing left for you to do is to create a new one with your own two hands.

He paused, listening for something, though the only audible noise in the room was dripping of the water.

“…well, the boy is looking for you. He will find you very soon. Minotaur …or is it Theseus? Unfortunately this duel is not something I would like to intervene in. In here I am the king. So I shall take my leave now, so good luck. ”

Aratron laughed briefly and left the room. The collection of empty wine bottles was swallowed by the ground and water begun to disappear from the tub, leaving a faint pink film on its pure white surface.

“… it does matter after all.” Katse said softly to no one in particular.

Theseus/Minotaur



The arrival was quite an unremarkable one.

Katse had been out of the bath for long enough to dry himself and put some clothes on. When the other arrived, he was busy staring at all the bottles he emptied, wondering how can he still stand.

“Game over.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill you know.”

“Weren’t you supposed to damage me enough for those genes to activate?”

“Well, yeah. Yes, indeed. However once you will become the real Hagith and not just some half-baked hybrid you are now, the former you will cease to exist completely. Though… with me wearing your uniform, it’s not like you exist anyway.”

“But I know I exist.”

“Oh, do you now? How can you be sure of anything? Your memory is a feeble thing anyway.”

“Because you people meddled with it.”

“So you noticed? Well done. However we only removed few insignificant details to make you not-Berg Katse in the eyes of those people. That’s it. The memories you had were pretty boring anyway. Why do you think it was so easy to separate you from your name? You don’t even have an existence outside this pathetic syndicate.”

“…you talk too much.”

“Sorry. My bad. I’ve been dead for six months after all. I would’ve sorted things out here and now, but I… really hate this room. Follow me if you want. Actually, you can’t not follow me. You don’t have any other choice. Oh, before we go, there is one more thing. Let me congratulate you. With all the head injuries you have sustained so far, I’m actually surprised you still look the way you look and act the way you do. None of my useless sisters were this resistant. Well, no matter how good your resistance, I’ll put an end to it soon.

Laughing quietly to himself he left.

Katse followed him after a while.

This was not a matter of free will or choices. He was a murderer, therefore he had to murder. The sensation of squeezing the life out of Maureen/Phul reminded him of that fact. And the events leading up to that reminded him of his reasoning. All of this was necessary. It was an effect of a cause. He had no other choice but to obey causality. His will played no part here, as usual. All things serve a purpose. It was one rule he couldn’t violate, even with the special kind of physique he had.

When his feet finally moved, he had no doubts as to which way was he supposed to go. Somehow he knew. Something inside of him spoke in a gentle, serene, convincing tone.

Yes, let us go and defeat him. He already made his mark. At this point nothing will happen if he disappears. He went up ahead. The trail is so clear. We can see it, can’t we?

But then what?

The faint voice of his common sense asked.

What do we mean? We can inscribe our mark, if that is what we wish for. We can remake the world. Make it bend to our will. Aren’t we going to be happy, once we turned the world into something we can understand and something that can understand us back?

But do I wish for it?

Do we? Of course we do. We wish for it dearly. It might even be our greatest wish. Connection to others without fear and without shame. The happiness of one will become the happiness of all. This is what we want. To be happy. To connect to others.

Yes… to be happy… to connect to others…

See?

But then why do I need to defeat that man?

What he seeks isn’t nearly as pure as what you seek. Och wishes for recognition, fame and longevity. Only our and Aratron’s wishes are pure enough for us two to be left alive. This is but a facet of the causality.

Is that so? What does Aratron wish for?

A noble wish. He wants to see their happiness. He translated the books and executed the rites thinking: If I can live long enough to see all of them happy, it will be okay if I die. Unfortunately in this world such a wish leads to nothing but scorn and jeering. The purer the wish, the worse one is treated for it. There is a widespread and truthful belief that strife strengthens character, and that a light shines the brightest when the night is at its zenith. But that only means that there is something flawed within this world. Those sayings make suffering, pain, and injustice sound as if they were something indispensable and noble. Just think of all the world religions and count the ratio of gods-warriors and gods who spread their teaching through love. It is sad. That is why the world needs people with pure wishes.

Are you Hagith?

Hagith? Our name is ‘I’. Though we can be Hagith as well, depending on who is thinking of us; nevertheless our most important name is ‘I’.

Then what am I?

If by I ‘you’ mean the content of this container of flesh and blood, then to explain it plainly with all the correct labels and tags:

I={Hagith+{Berg Katse M + Berg Katse F}}

Think of it like… yes. Like a Strawberry Daiquiri for example. Crushed ice isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri. Strawberry isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri. White rum isn’t Strawberry Daiquiri.

I see.

Well, we wonder if there is something we wish for before we begin with this cockfight.

A song.

A song?

Yes.

Is it a nice song?

Yes.

Is it a pure song?

Yes.

Which song is it?

First part of Debussy’s Nocturnes. The Clouds. I would like to hear it.

The vaulted, narrow hallways were suddenly filled with a slow, solemn melody. A moment later he reached the door. Its steely-grey wings were flanked by two paintings, both by Whistler. Nocturne in Black and Gold to the left, Nocturne in Blue and Gold to the right. He touched them first before he touched the door. The coarse surface of many layers of paint felt reassuring. If possible, he wanted to look at them for a bit longer, but his opponent was right on the other side.


He grasped the handle and pushed the door open.


“Too bad you only wished for a useless, dumb song. You should’ve wished for something like a gun. Or an axe.” The other Katse greeted him and Katse was once more reminded of the futility of names. For some the one in front of him was Joshua MacNab. For others he was Och. And for others he was Berg Katse.

Some of his thoughts must’ve had appeared on Katse’s face, for the other Katse smirked and asked:

“So if I am Berg Katse and you are Berg Katse, does that mean I will be fighting myself?”

“No. I am me. You are you. I am a murderer and you are the necessity. That’s all.”

The other Katse threw his head back and laughed.

“I see it this way. You are currently a hybrid between a normal person and a being like us. A monster. And I am the Greek hero. Hero is as hero does, so it is my responsibility to defeat you.”

He held his hand high, palm down. There was a soft, whispering sound as his palm split open. A dark crimson spear slid effortlessly out of a dark crimson glove. It looked like a magician’s trick. Together with the musical piece, which followed Katse all the way to the battlegrounds, it created an ethereal atmosphere belying the reason behind the meeting of the two participants.

The other Katse charged few seconds after the strings started to play.

Following the course of music, Katse waited until the very last moment, made one step, then another, and jumped, executing a perfect pas de chat, hitting his opponent in the face with his knee. He thought it was a tooth, but what left the other Katse’s mouth, what was spat out, was a capsule with explosives. Katse jumped back, covering his head. There was a flash of light, an explosion. He jumped away before the cloud of smoke cleared, expecting his opponent to use it for cover. Right he was.

It scratched his ribs. A long blade. At first he didn’t know what it was, but the second swing revealed it – the long, crimson scythe.

“Why did you do that?” Katse asked, realising he sounded rather dim-witted. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t even think of asking.

“Why? Well, of course to hurt you. So you would shed this stupid girly face of yours. You are an embarrassment.”

Another swing. The tip of the scythe hit the floor, cracking several tiles. Katse rolled to the side.

“Do you think this is the correct way to do it?”

“It’s Hagith speaking now, isn’t it? You little wretch. I give wisdom. I give riches. I am worshipped as a deity, second only to Aratron, while the only thing you have to do is sit on a pedestal and look pretty!”

Katse jumped on his feet and quickly ducked to avoid having his belly split open, however the other Katse didn’t stop his weapon to change its direction. He slammed its snaith into Katse’s upper arm, hooked him on the grips and flung him across the room.

“Useless! You are useless in combat! ” the other Katse laughed swinging the scythe again, hitting Katse with its tang and then smashing the dull end of the blade against his shins as he struggled to maintain his balance.

“And you were supposed to be a terrorist leader? What is this? What the flying fuck is this? Completely worthless! You can’t even defend yourself! Actually, I’m doing you a favour. Isn’t it better for someone with actual combat knowledge to be Berg Katse?”

The scythe cut through the air again, but this time Katse wasn’t hit by the dull side. The blade pierced his chest right between the sixth and the seventh rib, slicing through his lung, emerging through his back, splattering the wall with blood. Hadn’t Katse been shielding his head, his arm would be cut off. He cried out, blood suffusing his airways.

“See? See? This is much more beautiful. Like red flowers. Yes, you should finally give up and climb on your pedestal, dumbass!”

“Worthless? Worthless just because my only job is to be pretty? But you are forgetting one thing. You might give them knowledge and riches, but it is up to you what you give them. While… if they look upon me, they attain happiness in the shape they wish for. A happiness… which gives strength. A happiness, which erases all the bad things.” The bleeding man uttered in what was hardly more than a whisper.

Somehow he managed to get back on his feet, though he kept coughing out droplets of blood. Somehow, even though he was on the losing side, he managed to glare at his subjugator. And somehow he actually succeeded in making the one bearing the scythe look uncomfortable.

“You are as idiotic as you always were! People don’t know what makes them happy! Someone has to show them! That’s why they have gods! That’s why they have righteousness! ” the other Katse shouted, scraping the bloodied scythe against the floor and walls, leaving long cuts behind.

“In that case, you misunderstood something fundamental about gods.” Katse stated with an unshakeable steadfastness.

The pair of yellow eyes behind opaque lenses widened. Teeth were bared.

Katse didn’t try to dodge.

Judging from the way he kept staring at his double, maybe he didn’t even think about dodging.

Snap!

His upper arm didn’t withstand a blow of that fierceness. He reeled back and hit the ground face-first.

The scythe didn’t stop.

Katse’s head flung up, mouth opening in a silent scream. The blade pierced him, pinning him to the ground, going through his back, slicing through his diaphragm, severing three of his ribs. The other Katse gave the scythe a swift kick right under the ring, severing the shaft from the blade.



Ice

Ice

Ice

He was so cold.

Why am I so cold? What is this feeling? If you are supposed to be so glorious, why do I always feel as if I’m freezing to death?

Why? That is not me. It is your fear. The fear of the unknown. I am the unknown.

Oh, I see.

What do you want to do now? Shall I finally help you?

I don’t care. I just… WANT TO TAKE THAT BASTARD OUT!

“Well then, your pitiful body won’t hold for long. I shall take my leave then to give you some privacy for your screams. You should thank me. Thank me and be grateful. And if you are in too much of pain, you can even worsh-“

The other Katse didn’t finish the sentence. Something crashed into his back and there was searing pain in his chest. He looked down and stared at the toe of his own scythe he had been skewered with. He spun around, but his attacker had already collapsed, a pool of blood spreading around him.

“Damn that son of a bitch!”

Enraged by the fact that that useless wretch dared to raise his hand against him, he kicked the lying man with all his might. His boot crushed several more ribs. Katse flew a few metres and hit the wall. Unfortunately for the other Katse, his original didn’t seem to be conscious anymore, which took some of the satisfaction away.

The other Katse spat on the floor and left. Though he assimilated the blade back into his body, his wound didn’t close. Probably because it used to be a part of him. Or a part of the building. Whichever. With an injury like that, he ought to return underground to Elef-Kehe-Eynayim, or at least rest for a while, but he was far too aggravated for that. What he wanted to do the most was to give someone wisdom and riches. The wisdom of pain and the riches of death.

Erinnýes, Act 2



“I… can’t believe it.”

“No way.”

“Pinch me someone.”

“Way cool!”

In real life, those reactions would be comically exaggerated, however real world had no influence over a house as insane as the one they found themselves in.

What the ninjas saw in front of them was a large table with a loaf of bread, a knife buried in its brown crust, some grapes, cheese, butter, and a huge slab of gammon. There were also two jugs of water. A fairly frugal food, however it has been days since they have eaten, and so their joy would wash everything else away no matter how plain the grub.

Never had sourdough bread tasted so good.

Never was the juiciness of grapes so appreciated.

Never was the aroma of cheese so relished.

It was only through Jun’s intervention that the boys refrained from tearing the bread apart with their bare hands. She got a hold of the knife and sliced the whole loaf, spreading it evenly between the four of them. Joe then took the utensil from her, and giving her an apologetic smile, he did the same with the gammon.

They ate in silence.

It took two slices of bread to calm Jun’s hunger, but she kept eating even after that, her own appetite strengthened by the sight of the boys’ ravenousness. Nevertheless the pain…

The pain in her side. Once she satisfied her body’s demands for nutrition it returned, and it felt even worse than before, shooting tiny darts through her torso and down her leg. Some of the deeper cuts in her face smarted when sweat got into them, and unfortunately her helmet was designed in such a way that she couldn’t wipe it away without being too obvious. It was very frustrating. Her uniform, her situation, her weakness…

…but first and foremost - she was tired. By God, she was so tired…

Come on, you’re a ninja. A nin-ja. Focus. Don’t try to escape the pain, work through it. It is your body. You make the pain as strong as you want it to be. At least it’ll keep you awake.

She took another bite, a rather fierce one, tearing a piece of the gammon off.

“Whoa, Jun. Don’t wolf the food down like that. You’ll get sick.” Joe commented, though his way of eating was exactly the same.

“I’m sorry. I was just a bit hungry.”

“Weren’t we all… but cheer up. We have food here, so we might as well stuff as much down our throats as possible in case we’ll have to go days without it again.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Indeed. It didn’t occur to her there was a viable possibility that they would have to go through that ordeal again.

“It’s good to have food, but don’t forget we can’t afford to waste too much time here. It leaves us vulnerable. We’ll be moving on in ten minutes.” Ken stated in a voice which didn’t leave room for arguing.

“Aaw, aniki.. .” Jinpei complained between two bites.

“Shush, Jinpei. Ken is right.” Jun put her hand on her little brother’s shoulder.

“But oneechan…”

“How would you like to tackle another monster? And I’m all out of explosives now. We have to be really careful.”

“…fine.” Jinpei heaved a sigh “But I can finish the cheese, right?”

Jun gave him a well-practised smile which she reserved for such situations. Situations, when she couldn’t help but worry, while being expected to be cheerful and strong.

It was Ken.

That look was back.

Up until their discovery of the surprise meal his eyes started to soften a bit when he caught her eye. He was mindful of her injuries, even offered his shoulder for her to lean on few times. Sure, all that was because they were starving and had barely enough energy to walk. She knew that, but she was still grateful to him. She cherished the thought that perhaps her injuries didn’t hurt so much, because she saw those brief flashes of the human warmth behind that cold blue visor.

Ken was the first one to finish his meal. He didn’t look at her anymore, he looked at the exit. The one on his mind was Berg Katse now. That made Jun a little bit jealous. Realizing how foolish her feelings were, she drank some water to hide her blushing cheeks.

“Okay, let’s go.” He said a moment later.

This time no one complained. Jinpei still looked a little bit disappointed and Joe’s expression was unreadable.

“What is this?” Jinpei asked out of the blue, drawing everyone’s attention to what he was looking at.

It was the floor. What she took for some strangely decorated tiles (and to be frank, nothing could surprise her in that house anymore) were actually thin roots, growing right through the shiny surface.

“Let’s speed up. I’ll go first, Jun and Jinpei behind me, Joe, you’ll cover the rear. Don’t break the formation.”

The other three roger-ed, and readied their weapons.

Jun came to have second thoughts about the amount of food she ate. She felt heavy and clumsy because of it. Could this have possibly been the intention of their ‘benefactor’? She bit her lip.


Ken suddenly gestured at them to stop. Putting his index finger to his lips, he tilted his head to the side. He must’ve heard something, even though Jun could swear no one made a sound. She was just about to ask her leader what the matter was, when she heard for herself.

“…Yes, yes. They will die. I’ll make them suffer. I’ll strangle them and then tear them apart piece by piece. Aratron can just go and die, I don’t care. I’m definitely going to kill them.”

Though faint, it was definitely the voice of Berg Katse.

“Let’s go.” Ken said and started to run.

Jun had serious problems keeping up. No matter how hard she worked through the pain, how much she focused on the mission, on her leader’s back, the world still rocked, as if what she drank wasn’t water but vodka.

As they sprinted down the hallway, the hair-like roots expanded to creep across walls and ceiling as well as the floor. A faint scent of blood hung in the air. A right-hand turn came, bringing the end of the hallway. There was a big black door, which had been opened ajar.

He didn’t even think about closing it. He doesn’t consider us as a threat anymore.

Ken grasped his boomerang even tighter and burst through the door.

The room was spacious. None of its ornaments or abnormalities caught Ken’s eye as he located his enemy, who was standing near the centre, a bucket and a brush in his hands. At his feet was a large, curved blade, covered with blood. Red was also splattered on the floor, where he just finished drawing a huge heptagon containing several sets of some freakish symbols. His only reaction to his mortal enemy’s turbulent entrance was a grin, even though there was a nasty wound in his chest.

Perfect. This’ll make things easier for me.

“So you came after all. Well done, Gatchaman.”

“You bastard. You’re dead.”

Ken threw his boomerang with the usual deadly accuracy. Its razor-sharp edged would sever the terrorist’s jugular in a split of second, and yet-

“What’s this? Some dumb toy?” he chuckled, catching the weapon with ease. “This is no time to play, boy. This is the time to die.” He added, crushing the boomerang and stepping on the pieces with his foot.

“You know you can’t get out of this, Katse. Give up, and your death will be quick.”

“Oh, playing tough guy, are we? But no matter how many times did you foil Galactor’s plans, the fact remains that you’re just a useless brat.”

Katse’s ridiculous grin widened, becoming hyena-like.

“What?”

“Your family is the best example, isn’t it? Because you were so useless, your father left you behind. Because you were so useless, you didn’t even notice your mother’s illness. You were training, trying so hard to stop being so pathetic, while she just died without a single word of your support. And in the end you were so useless, your own father didn’t think you could do anything save the world and so he resorted to launch himself into Van Allen belt. How ironic. You keep calling yourself a leader while at the same time you left your own family die. It’s so funny it’s sad. You’re not fit to be a leader, you pathetic white shadow. You pathetic, useless white shadow!”

“Ken! Don’t listen to him!” Jun cried but to no avail.

Ken saw red. He thought his heart would burst with hate. He wanted nothing more than to render that hateful existence apart with his own hands. Nothing was more important than that.

He ran.

Like an eagle descending on its prey, he moved so fast it was akin to flight. Those roots growing all over the place tore out on their own, breaking the floor and shattering the tiles. They connected into huge tentacles and shot right at him like spears, but he dodged at the last second, jumping up and using them as a springboard to get even higher, just so he could surprise the enemy.

Right before he hit Katse, whose reactions were slower than usual, he pulled out all his remaining feather shurikens and grasped them like a knife. He kicked Katse at the wall, and landing, he lurched at him, his hate mingling with delight when he saw so many openings. He swung his hand and buried all of the shurikens into Katse’s neck.

“Useless! Useless! Useless! All of you are useless!” his prey kept repeating over and over.

Ken, completely lost to all reason, straddled Katse and brought his hand down over and over. Soon he closed his other hand around the shurikens as well to give more force to the blows, and it felt good, it felt so good. There was blood, there was so much blood. When he severed the jugular, it sprayed in an arc, hitting his face, his visor, his gloves, but he didn’t let that stop him as he couldn’t stop anyway, the sensation of his shurikens piercing the fabric of that hated purple mask, and the skin and flesh of the hated enemy much too intoxicating, and eventually he hit something hard, and he knew that it was the cervical spine, and that this is a fatality, and that this demon will never ever tear another family apart, and it was over, all over, he wasn’t useless after all, if his father saw him now, he would definitely pat his head and say that he’s proud to have a son like that, and that-

A punch interrupted his fierce happiness. Ken saw stars and his head hit the wall.

“STOP IT FOR FUCK’S SAKE YOU FUCKIN’ MORON!”

Joe grabbed him by the collar and shook him in spite his injured shoulder.

“I did it, Joe. It’s over. We can all celebrate now.” Ken answered with a wide, genuine smile that genuinely scared Joe. He gritted his teeth and punched his leader, friend, and brother as hard as he could.

“What’s the matter Joe? Have you gone mad? ” Ken exclaimed, disturbed more that Joe didn’t share his happiness rather than because of that hell of an uppercut.

“Look over there, you idiot.” Joe growled, pointing behind his back.

Jun lay there, spread-eagled, motionless, with Jinpei by her side who was as pale as sheets. Her helmet was shattered, white wings and cowl stained by crimson.

“…what? What… happened?” Ken asked. A ghost of that smile still remained on his lips, as he couldn’t really comprehend such turns of events.

“That tentacle you jumped off. It hit her. It hit Jun’s head. Hard.”

“…what?”

Once more he gazed at the Swan. Jinpei kept shaking her, tears streaming down his face, muttering over and over.

“Wake up, oneechan. Wake up. Please, wake up. Oneechan, wake up, wake up, wake up.”

But she wouldn’t.

The second act of the unfortunate revenge play left the despised Von Rothbart dead, Odette lifeless, and Siegfried, cursing his own carelessness.

Disintegration



Just as Ken was about to reach the black door, in a not-so distant part of the house Katse dreamt of voices.


“We can use traitors, especially those, acting for the sake of their families. They are easy to manipulate. Remember this good. The more attachments tie a man down, the easier it is to pull on those strings. Traitors are, quite naturally, disposed of. However this matter has become somewhat more troublesome. Unfortunately one of them tried to meddle with our valuable subject. With Galactor’s property. In a way she was a thief and all thieves deserve punishment.

“Look at her body. Look. How stupid that woman you were so fond of looks now. Also remember that this is your work. If it wasn’t for you, they would be alive for a little bit longer. We’ll do this again and again until the message sinks into your mind. Understood? Good.

“Now since you are finishing your anatomy studies, I want you to dissect her. Here you have a sketchbook and pens. Make detailed sketches of orbicularis oculi, levator labii superioris, orbicularis oris, risorius, procerus, zygomaticus minor and major. Once you’ve done that, continue with all of the heart valves as well. The rest will be disposed off.”

He stirred, slowly coming to his senses. It was a dilemma. He didn’t want to wake up, but he didn’t want to keep on seeing that dream either.

“No.”

That one word he uttered decided. He was awake. He had no choice but to get up.

No, it didn’t happen like that. I wasn’t there. I was in Uganda. I had been since the year before. This was a dream. A lie. It didn’t happen that way.

He pulled the cover off his body and rubbed his eyes.

The room he woke up in contained absolutely nothing. Every surface was bare and featureless, there wasn’t even any visible lighting. But in spite of that there was so much light, there were no shadows anywhere. It didn’t particularly bother him. No matter whether it was completely void and illuminated, or dark and cramped by junk, it wouldn’t mean anything to him.

After all, this is not my home.

He swung his legs over the bed’s edge and jumped off, softly landing on the floor. He noticed he wasn’t wearing anything.

He frowned.

He wasn’t cold. Or hot. But the knowledge of being uncovered wasn’t pleasant at all. Luckily someone left a pile of neatly folded clothes under the bed. Someone considerate, who could imagine how does it feel like to wake up naked in an unknown room. He was-…

Oh yes. That’s right. When was the last time I felt genuinely grateful to someone? Not just a bit, but really? Ah, I see. No one did anything you should’ve been particularly grateful for. Neither did I require them to do anything for you personally. But that woman… Aunt Katarina… she was always so kind. What she did is something that requires gratefulness. So why do I only feel regret? I don’t understand.

Sousai said I should’ve been grateful to his mercy for making me his Chosen One, however why have you only ever felt pain and shame? No, wait. I loved him as well, did you? What was that sensation again? He recognised my existence. He called me by my name. Does that deserve love? Does it deserve gratefulness?

… this is so confusing…

He rubbed his forehead, wishing someone would come with an easy explanation. Or even better. If only he had been born with the same common sense everyone else appeared to have. The world was so difficult. People were so incomprehensible, their motivations, opinions and beliefs in what’s right and what’s wrong so different. How was he supposed to conquer the world then? A world with labour laws, security systems, garden parties, hunting trips, agriculture, Red Cross, etiquette, restroom signs with a blue male and red female, Bill of Human Rights, shampoos and conditioners, tax declarations, tender gazes above a candle-lit dinners, live concerts, fish farms, funeral rites, prostitution, noise-cancelling headphones, deep-marine fishes, child soldiers, poached eggs on toast, clowders of cats, and countless other things? Such a conglomerate of things can’t possibly be conquered. Especially not by someone with such a poor understanding of it.

So why did Sousai choose me? Is this just a joke to him? Is his trying to repel boredom? I’ve learned so many things, gained more knowledge than most people do during their whole lives. But where is the sense in that? Have you actually gained anything? Or… could it be that Sousai himself doesn’t have any understanding of the world? Why does he want it? What does he want with it?

Then one possibility dawned on him. A thought, which had never crossed his mind before.

Could it be that he is stupid?

He laughed quietly to himself. That would explain a lot.

Yes. Lui è stupido, isn’t it right? Stupido e infantile. Allora cosa sono io? Most likely stupido as well. No ya mogu izmieniat’. Ja prinadliezhu siebie. Ya mogu izmieniat’. Izmieniat’… na kogo?

The unexpected thought made him stop and think a bit.

Why is it that these things only occur to me as an afterthought? I can change, but if you want to change, you need to know what do I want to change into. Otherwise I’m stupido. Durak. Ahou. Blbec. Ein Volltrottel. Un fou. No matter how much knowledge have you accumulated, I cannot answer this one question.

He set off, not really looking where he went, hoping that the fate would end up guiding his steps somehow. Whether by the Star, or the Tower, anything was fine as long as he wouldn’t end up marked by the Hanged Man.

Directions



Ken knelt down at Jun’s side, looking at her with disbelief in his eyes. No matter how much he wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to grab her fingers and squeeze them in his trembling hands, even if it was just to let her feel that he was there with her. She used to be so perceptive to people’s presences. She could always tell when there was someone behind her, no matter how light-footed that person was. And now she wouldn't open her eyes. Paying for the mistake he had made. He. Not she. Where was the justice in that? Where the fuck was the justice?



Biting the alloy of his feather shuriken, Joe watched the scene with his arms crossed to keep himself from giving Ken a good pounding. But no matter how much he wanted to punch this guy, even in his rage he realised that it wouldn’t do any good to either of them. And it wouldn’t make Jun get better either.

…God. Why did it have to be Jun…?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

No, wait a moment. She is not dead. She is not dead. We just have to get her out of here. We need to get her to a doctor. As soon as possible.

“I’m going.” He said, removing the shuriken from between his lips and putting it back in the pocket.

“What? Where?” Jinpei asked, turning his tear-stained face to him.

“To find the exit.”

“I’ll go with you.” Ken muttered.

“The hell you are.” Joe growled.

“I’m your commander and I’m saying I’m going with you.”

Ken stood up, facing Joe with fierce determination in his eyes.

“Ken; you will stay here. Someone has to take care of Jun. Take responsibility for your pig-headedness for once. Don’t you use me or your position as a simple way out.”

Joe tried to sound reasonable, but he noticed Ken’s fists tightening, his teeth gritting together. And so-

Ken reeled back under the power of Joe’s punch.

“You will stay here. If you’re the leader, than take responsibility for your teammates first. Focusing on fighting, fighting, fighting is not going to get you anywhere, moron. Before you do anything reckless, look around and see where your drive for revenge brought you already. If you don’t do that, then any sacrifices we’ve brought will be completely meaningless.”

Hearing those words, the will to fight left Ken’s eyes and he sank to the ground, giving Jun a sheepish glance.

“Jinpei, you take care of your sister and Ken.”

“Screw that. I’m going with you.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I can throw what you told Ken right back at you.”

“I’m not going out for revenge. I’m going out to find the exit.”

“In that case, two are better than one. Or do you think I’m too useless? I’m a ninja just like you, you know. We’ve fought together for so long, so don’t leave me behind now. I also want to save oneechan.”

G-2 and G-4 stared at each other for a while and then Joe let out a sigh of resignation.

“Fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

“I will.” Jinpei nodded. There was no triumph in his eyes, nothing like that. Only resolve as hard as steel. It was his sister's blood which stained the gloves of his uniform after all.

And so the two of them left.



He never thought it to be possible - he actually found himself wishing for Galactor to be his opponents again. They might’ve been a major pain in the backside, but at least he knew who he was fighting and what he was facing. This house, where little girls were monsters and people weren’t what they first appeared to be, proved to be very difficult to deal with. ISO directives were useless in here. Not that he cared for those. Not right now, when everything was as surreal as a nightmare or a hallucination. What he needed was an anchor to ground him to the reality of this situation. A torch to show him the way through this murky darkness.

The sun of Sicily. The sun of his childhood.

Once again he tried to recall those bright days, though the image of Jun’s bloodied Birdstyle seared in his memory made concentrating a difficult task indeed.

“Giorgio. If you ever get lost, the simplest and yet the wisest thing you can do is ask someone for help. The world we live in isn’t half bad even if it sometimes looks that way. Someone will always come to help. There is at least a bit of compassion in everyone's heart.”

Mother’s voice appeared in his head. Or rather, her words emerged from his memory, devoid of all sound. It had been too long. He had forgotten his mother’s voice.

“I’ve got it.” he muttered.

“What?”

“We’ll just ask for help.”

Jinpei glanced at him to make sure Joe wasn’t making fun of him.

“But who can we ask?”

“Hagith.”

“Hagith? Are you sure he’s even still alive? I mean, Katse stabbed him with a scalpel and he… he just walked away.” He finished with a whisper.

“Hagith?! Hagith, can you hear me?!” Joe yelled.

His voice echoed through the hallway, intensifying the awkwardness he felt. Shouting while there wasn’t anyone around save for Jinpei sounded pretty damn stupid. Still; he didn’t have a lot of other options.

Zzzzzzzz…

A soft buzzing sound made them whip around. It was just a screen, sliding down from the ceiling. The initial blackness turned to white and letters appeared one after another, as if written by someone on the other end.

WILL BE WAITING IN THE TEA ROOM

He frowned.

“I need to find out how to get out of this house. Can’t you just-”

The message started to fade, the screen flickered for a moment, and then all went black.

Wouldn’t bloody kill him to give me a clear answer. Ah well, what can I expect from a freaky place like this…

He shrugged and started to walk, keeping his eyes open for any signs of anything which might resemble a tea room.



Somehow all of this felt just too unreal. A message on a screen, which might not even exist, told him to seek out a tea room. Great. They might have a polite and erudite conversation over a pot of Earl Grey and perhaps a plate of scones with clotted cream and jam. He would laugh about the ridiculousness of it all, if it wasn’t for the image of Jun’s cracked helmet and the depression on her forehead. And just like that, words started to swirl through his mind.

Depressed head injury

Pressure on the brain

Vegetative state

Secondary infection

Brain damage

Intra-axial haemorrhage

Death

Death

Death

Damn that idiot. Why couldn’t he protect her instead of charging in like some fucking god of revenge? If it wasn’t for him… if it wasn’t for him…

“Giorgio. Giorgio, when something goes awry, don’t you ever start running around, pointing fingers. Fix what went broken instead. Once you’ve finished that, then you can go and have a fight.”

He bit his lip. His father had been right those ten-ish years ago, he was right now. It definitely wouldn’t help if he would start to nurse some grudge towards Ken. He’d end up just like him.

Yeah, but once we’re out of danger, I’ll give that idiot a proper thrashing. Why is he always like that anyway?

All those years they spent side by side came back to him. Ken has always been so stubborn, so focused. He always had one goal in front of him and nothing else mattered. That was always one of the biggest differences between the two of them. When Joe was told to do or to learn something, he would do it (or at least consider doing it), but he didn’t make this one thing the centre of his universe. Sure. It was important to defeat Galactor. Nevertheless there were other things beside their duty. Car races, pub-hopping, playing pool, chatting with friends, meeting new people at the track, having fun with the rest of the team…

Well, that’s probably the reason he’s the leader…

...but that does not excuse his behaviour. It used to be tolerable. Hell, that’s how Ken was. We all knew it. Ryu loves his naps, Jinpei has his thing about animals. It can get troublesome, but we’re not robots. But Ken. The way you make it look now is like you’re putting your enemies before your friends.

Joe shook his head sadly.

What would Mrs. Washio think if she was alive? Ken hardly ever spoke about her. It used to make Joe angry, confused and sad. Didn’t he care for his mother? Mrs. Washio had been a kind, gentle woman. A rather taciturn person, yes, but she always had a smile for everyone. Ken didn’t shed a single tear on her funeral, swearing instead to defeat Galactor for her as well. As if they had something to do with her passing. For Joe this was a very cold attitude to have. And that’s what he repeatedly told Ken, whose only answer was that it wasn’t any of Joe's business.

Naturally Joe got even angrier and shouted at Ken that he should stop being a heartless dumbass. Ken punched him for that, but there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Few years later, when they somehow ended up discussing this event during a big clean-up of her shop, Jun told him that he did love his mother after all, but as a leader he didn’t want to show tears. Then she continued, saying that in her opinion Mrs. Washio's motherly love was unconditional and her support of her son unceasing, that’s why he took it for granted. While his distant father, on the other hand, died, or at least disappeared mysteriously in action, which, in Ken’s eyes, martyred him into becoming a hero. A hero he strove to become but he never could; not while he was alive. After all, disappeared people could do no wrong. Their pedestal was night indestructible.

Unlike Ken, Joe remembered his parents as people. He could easily recall the times when they argued, or when he received a good spanking from his dad, or when he played pranks out of spite because he felt ignored. The times he fought with mother because she wanted to cut his hair or wash him behind his ears or make sure his fingernails were clipped. Once he even let out all the air from her car's tires so she wouldn’t be able to leave for work, which was a source of great ire for little Giorgio. She didn’t seem to follow a normal eight-hour working day. He remembered that sometimes he stayed up all night, waiting for her to return. Sometimes all the way till the wee hours of morning. Sometimes in vain. Lastly there were times she did return, but not alone.

That older kid.

She had brought that kid with her and Giorgio was not just jealous. He was angry. He got to spend all those hours with the mother Giorgio missed so much, and he always had the same expression in his eyes - like he didn’t care at all.

Once he complained to mother about that. It was just the two of them, sharing a moment in the kitchen. He was still eating his breakfast while mother was doing the dishes. When he told her what he thought about that kid, she heaved a great sigh, took off her rubber gloves and bent over so she was at his eye level. She explained to him, extremely seriously, that he must not, under any circumstances, blame the boy. She even said Giorgio should try to be friends with him. The grand total number of two attempts failed spectacularly. There never was a third try. He left Sicily wrapped in bandages like a mummy, his eyes red from tears, wanting nothing more than another hug from his parents.

“Ken, don’t you miss your parents? ” he had asked some four years back.

“Concentrate on your training. We have to get the hang of the tornado fighter.”

“But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Of course I do. Now let’s go. We still have two hours until the end of the session.”
Thinking back at those times, Joe had to chuckle. It was so funny, all those mishaps during their attempts to master the tornado fighter technique. It had been easy enough for him and Ryu at the base, but Ken tended to wobble and Jun always crushed his fingers under her heel or stepped on his head and Jinpei just couldn’t stay upright. Once they even buried Nambu-hakase under a ninja pile when the formation collapsed. Hakase certainly wasn’t pleased. Back then Jun laughed so hard, the whole team had to take a break.

Jun, who now lay on the floor with a cracked skull. Jun, with her side pierced by a bullet. Jun, ever the caring one, who, therefore, never got any credit for her love and support from Ken.

His fingers shuffled about, trying to find another feather shuriken to chew at. The search didn’t come to any fruition.

"Joe. Look." Jinpei whispered, grabbing his arm.

Joe looked up.

There, at the end of the stark white corridor, was a pitch black door, standing out like an obelisk from another world.

Both ninjas exchanged looks. Joe pulled out his cable gun, Jinpei grabbed the thread of his bolos.

"You think this is it?"

"We better be careful."

Jinpei nodded and the two of them approached the dark rectangle with utmost caution. Nothing burst through to assault them. No one jumped out at them. They crossed the short distance without any mishaps and slowly, ever so slowly, Joe put his hand against the smooth, hard surface.

"Right. Let's do this." Joe whispered and pushed the door open.

The Key



It was nigh impossible to tell how big the room, permeated by a heavy scent of Earl Grey, really was. Barring the indefinite amount of nooks which kept breaking the line of the walls for no apparent reason, every single surface was covered by mirrors. Even the black hexagonal tiles of the floor were unnaturally lustrous. Lighting was provided by a great number of bright lamps suspended from the ceiling, and so, in addition to being confusing its dimensions, the room, though certainly impressive, wasn't exactly easy on the eyes.

“Aniki.” Jinpei whispered and pointed at its very far end.

The one who they were looking for sat there, in front of a glass table with an expensive looking tea set. Last time they had met, this man was bleeding out from a serious stab-wound.

“Hey-!” Joe shouted, stopping abruptly just after the first word.

How should he call him? Who was that man? Hagith? George? Someone else?

“Yes?” the addressed asked simply.

This time there was no pain, fear or confusion in his eyes. This time there was nothing. Those eyes didn’t even focus on either Joe or Jinpei; the man just stared in their general direction.

Joe rushed towards him, leaving Jinpei to guard the entrance.

“We need to get out of this house. I’ve been directed to this room. Apparently… you can help me out a bit.” Joe lied. Those instructions didn’t actually say anything about what he could expect from that room or his occupant.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, can you?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Do you… know me by any chance?” the blond man asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, you’re George, aren’t you? Or ...are you Hagith?” He said slowly, trying to convince the oddball to show him the way out. After all, there was no one else he could ask, and so he had to be patient. No matter how much he wanted, rushing things at this point could seriously damage his chances.

“I’m… I don’t know. They said so. I’ve also been told I’m Berg Katse, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure what Berg Katse is and why is there such a big difference between him and me when I’m supposed to be him… ah… why do people keep giving me newer and newer names? I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore… if only I had just one name, like… like Giorgio-” He said longingly, but then, just as shock started to spread through Joe’s heart, his expression went blank again. “...but Giorgio doesn’t have just one name either.”

The blank expression.

Those unseeing eyes.

“Giorgio, honey, I’d like to introduce you someone. He works with me, so be nice to him. His name is...”

What was his name again?

Antonio?

Alceste?

Achille?

…no, not Achille. It was another familiar yet unusual name. Alessio.

“Are you… Alessio? You are, aren’t you?”

“Alessio...yes, there was that as well..."

Under the shock of recognition, Joe temporarily forgot why he came there in the first place. He grabbed the man's shoulders.

“What happened to my parents? Who assassinated them? Why were they killed?”

“I don’t know. They were called traitors, but those who called them that were traitors themselves and I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. Aunt Katarina said… she said she’d take me to see Florence. She said she would take me to see Palazzo Vecchio and Uffizi, and that we would have gelato for lunch, but she broke her promise. Suddenly she was dead and there was no one else to take me to see Palazzo Vecchio and Uffizi and have gelato instead of lunch with me. It was terrible. She was a kind and hardworking person, and yet not one of her surviving colleagues ever spoke of her again. All records were gone. Everything was erased. Did she even exist? They told me I've made it all up. Apparently this person was never there in the first place. Maybe.”

Seeing that it would be nigh-impossible to get anything useful about his parents out of… whoever that man actually was, Joe forced himself to think of his team-mates.

“Look, Alessio. Do you have any idea how to get out of the house?” he asked slowly.

“I don’t know. Why should I know? How can I know? I've never been here before. Or have I? Am I Hagith after all? Have I been here all this time? Am I George, who came to rescue the girl? Or am I Berg Katse, who has never been here before. The Alessio from the past is no more. But there is another one beside me, and he isn’t Berg Katse either… …no, I think I am Berg Katse after all. I remember explosions and needles. They said I need to get used to combat, so they gave me a Kalashnikov and sent me to Uganda. There they called me Ekyeeru-Ekyaasi. Or Omusaayi-Kasaayi Okufa. There was hate in their eyes. Allies and enemies. Allies hated to fight alongside of me. Enemies hated to be killed by me. Ekyeeru-Ekyaasi. Omusaayi-Kasaayi Okufa. Dimmi, Giorgio. Come faccio a sapere chi sono io?”

It took Joe a while to react. The previous information dump was somewhat heard to follow. He wasn’t sure how much of it was true and which part was just a delusion of an ill mind. Was it really Berg Katse? They always suspected him to be at least slightly insane, so did he finally snap? Or was Alessio unfortunate enough to have too much stress piled up on him? Or both?

Joe tried to concentrate. He was surrounded by his reflections. Were they just reflections or was his being as fracturated as Alessio's? His head hurt from the light of the lamps. A sharp curve of snowdrop-coloured pain. Blood. The trickle of blood, pouring from Jun’s head. Ken’s shocked face. Jinpei’s despair. Joe struggled to keep his mind focused.

He squeezed Alessio's shoulders, pulling closer to the dazed-looking man. Grey eyes gazed into blue for the first time.

“Who you are is something you should decide on your own. You live your life for yourself, not for anyone else, so it’s your own responsibility. But no matter how much you change, you are still you. After all, we all change every day.“

"Does it even matter who I am? Maybe I'm not here in the first place. Maybe this is all just a delusion. Maybe in reality I am burning to death right now and this is the only way I could escape."

Joe thought about that for a moment. At first glance that notion seemed absurd, but gradually he came to realise it was actually quite sensible. Monsters don't exist. Solid objects like walls can't suddenly change their shape. Peope die when they get stabbed, and the members of his surrogate family always keep each other's back.

Suddenly he head a clacking sound.

He turned around - it was Jinpei, playing with his bolos. Looking bored.

What the hell am I doing here? I'm supposed to find the way out, so why do I keep joining these discussions?

He bit his lip. No matter whether this was the correct choice or not, he had to acknowledge this present as his one real reality. There was no other way for sane people to live.

Curling his fingers into a fist, he bumped the top of the blond man's head. It felt solid enough.

"This is getting too philosophical for me. If mom was here to hear you, I think she'd be pretty pissed. If there is something you can do, then you should act instead of balbber about existencionalism while being about as useful as a rusty bucket. So you're sorry you never got to see Florence with her? Well, then leave this place, go there on your own, and have a double portion of gelato in her memory. Idle hands are the tools of the fucking devil."

Alessio didn't look like he took this advice to heart, but on the other hand, he wasn't arguing about it either. His hands, folded on his lap until then, closed, and when he opened them a second later, he was holding a strangely elongated key.

“I think this is something you can use. However you should hurry. I think Ophiel decided to take care of your comrades personally.”

"What?"

"You better hurry. She is close."

Joe grabbed the key. Alessio held onto it that whole time, yet it felt cold as ice.

It was time to go, but that didn’t sit with Joe very well - to breeze out without giving anything in return. Knowing that this was probably the last time he could speak to this living relict from his parents’ past, he took one of his remaining feather shurikens and placed it in that hand as a return gift.

"Thanks. And try not to die here. One day I'd like to talk to you some more."

Alessio merely nodded and returned to staring in the empty space.

"Arrivederci." Joe whispered and rushed towards Jinpei, who went chalk-pale when he learned the news.

Though things weren't looking good for the team at all, Joe felt a tiniest bit of relief. At least they had the key now. He looked over his shoulder one last time. The room was empty. Just mirrors and black tiles. Alessio was gone, so was the table along with the tea.

That doesn't matter. That doesn't matter at all.

Joe passed the key to Jinpei and together they broke into run. He was prepared to fight the abomination attacking his comrades with every ounce of his strength. He focused only on the threat at hand, but in spite of that, somewhere in the farthest corner of his mind, he couldn't help but hope that Alessio was not going to give up on the world he was in. Something told him that that would be a very bad thing indeed.

The hallways of the house were now as good as empty. Nothing moved, which was not all that different from how it had been before, but this time it seemed like the very air begun to freeze solid, and this spreading stagnation had its origin in the very room where G-2 and G-4 received the key. All that was in it, furniture, lamps, mirrors, tiles, all sunk and was dissolved in pure white surface. Once there was nothing left but the walls, a disembodied voice whispered strange words.
"In the end, this is what this me is being defined by."

Devotion



Ophiel entered the central room, the Shrine of Links, hauling her usual load of papers. She was in high spirits, smiling as if she just won first place in national lottery. Ophiel was always in high spirits. Ever since she was granted a new name and a new purpose, she was in nothing but high spirits. Her simple everyday existence became so gratifying she couldn't help but be constantly full of joy; especially compared to her previous way of life.

Back then her hard, tedious labour yielded nothing but foul fruit by for her to dine on. As soon as she put it to her lips it was spoiled by unbearably heavy shadows, lurking at the edge of her consciousness. Mortgage, disabled husband, estranged son, struggles with securing research grants, and the steadily growing amount of hospital fees dissolving her already thin budget. Because she didn’t posses the youth, beauty or aggressiveness of her younger colleagues, she had to work twice as hard. She even took a second job as a psychotherapist and listened three times a week to the ramblings of teenage kids whose parents were too busy and rich to do it themselves.

Still, she wouldn't have minded shouldering any of this if only, at the end of the day, she could've returned to someone who loved her. Someone, who didn’t spend his days complaining about the loss of his leg, diabetes, hypertension, diet, nagging nurses, and a hundred of other pains and daily annoyances. He had full right to complain like this, of course. She, a paragon of health, could've hardly imagined how it was like to live with so much suffering, and so she held her mouth shut and went through her daily routine month after month, year after year, suppressing all frustration and hopes alike. There were only two things which plagued her.

A duet of regrets. Especially the older one - the regret of that day.

If only she hadn't fallen ill back then. If only she hadn't succumbed to tonsillitis on the very day her circle of friends from college, which included Alden and Cornelia, went up to the mountains for a week of skiing, for this trip had changed everything and she realised this as soon as those two paid her a visit at the hospital. Together.

She didn't nurse any grudge towards Cornelia and had she hated herself for that.

Nevertheless things like that didn’t matter anymore.

All of her worries were gone, only high spirits remaining. Her past life with all its hardships was abandoned like the skin of a moulted cicada. This perhaps included even her second regret, the lost boy.



To her pleasant surprise, she found Aratron inside the room. He sat on a chair extracted from the floor and watched Elef-Kehe-Eynayim, his chin propped against the knuckles of his linked hands.

“Aratron?”

“Ah, hello, Ophiel. How do you do today?”

“I’m doing well. Well. I’m doing very well...” she wanted to add ‘but you don’t look so good’, but she was never a person to tell others that they don’t look so good.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“The gate is almost open. The last remnants of Hagith's humanity are gone. All that is left is for him to make his mark. After that all will come to know this joy. They all will. And finally all will be at peace.” She reported, hoping this news would improve her comrade's mood.

“We are losing.” He replied simply, staring at the metallic grey matter of the profoundly alien being.

Ever since it first materialised, it hadn't moved an inch. Its form also remained the same, and though it was undeniably alive, it required neither food nor water. It must've digested some kind of sustenance though, for even though it didn't appear to have changed one bit, the area 'touched' by its influence grew wider every day, and all that was inside left its destiny-set rails with ever-growing speed. The house, the forest, the roads... In a sense this otherworldly sphere was the heart of a reason- and order-swallowing black hole. He knew Ophiel was aware of this just as he knew she didn't care one bit. But he, he was different. This saddened him. She was a pure being, striving solely for the betterment of mankind, while he couldn't quite bring himself to abandon his often-tried love for the old world no matter how hard he wished. He felt as if this attachment was a curse he received for slighting Ophiel/Agatha some point in the past, for letting her suffer on her own even though he considered her his closest friend - and for this reason he was perfectly content to suffer its consequences for the rest of his days.

"Losing? No, no we’re not. The gate is almost open. If you wish, I can make Hagith…” she pointed on the other side of Elef-Kehe-Eynayim.

Hagith sat there on a chair identical to Aratron's, and though his eyes were open, he was not conscious. His sleep was so deep, no human in the world would've been able to wake him, yet for a being Ophiel's calibre it was nothing but a child's play to make this lifeless body stand up and do whatever she wanted. Actually, this made more sense to her than waiting for him to make up his own mind. With just one movement of her finger, he would-

“No. This isn’t just about adding another link to tie this secluded world to the rest. This is about prospects. The two of us, who have a complete understanding of what is going on and why, have executed this plan because we wanted to transcend humanity. Become someone stronger. Someone better. Our weaknesses were our downfall and we were unable to face our past. Rebuilding our bodies, we were supposed to become stronger, better. And yet, look now. Out of six fully awakened ones, four are dead. Bethor, Phaleg and Och were killed by mere humans. Hagith is an irregularity. Even if we manage to connect our plane of existence with the Outerworld, we have lost.”

Aratron's speech was voiced in a calm and detached fashion, but every word he uttered he wished he had held his tongue. He didn't want to say such things; he didn't want to think those thoughts - and this fact baffled him. It was the same confusion he saw reflected in the female scientist's eyes.


Ophiel saw all that. She stood there for a few minutes, her head tilted to the side, thinking about what Aratron told her, what he meant by that, and she came to the conclusion that the world itself is to blame for the despondency in his voice. The world as it was right now. The old world represented by Them.

“But if those humans die, then the result will change accordingly.”

“Are you planning to go and confront them?”

“Are you planning to go and confront them? I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why does it have to be us or them. Wouldn’t they appreciate our cause once we’d explain the situation to them? Can’t we all live together? After all, we are all sentient entities.”

Aratron gave her a grim smirk.

“If you want an answer to that, go and ask Hagith. He’ll be able to explain much better than I.”

“ In the end, this is what this me is being defined by, is what he said just before he gave up. What did he mean by that? I was wondering about that, but I have no idea what Hagith is thinking. ”

“I don't think there is any need for us to fully understand each other in order to coexist in peace. Anyway, are you still planning to go and confront the humans?”

Ophiel nodded, setting all of her papers on the floor.

“You will most likely be killed, you know. They seem to be well versed in combat, while we used to be just scientists.”

“I will go.”

“I don’t understand why. After all, you can gain absolutely nothing. Whether they live or die, at best you get nothing, at worst you’ll die. So why do you still want to do this?”

“It bothers you.”

“So?”

“I can’t stand it.”

“Which ‘I’ do you mean? Agatha? Ophiel?”

“I am I and nothing but I, no matter which one of my names you use. I am unable to feel embarrassment or awkwardness, so I can tell you right now. My long-term priority is your happiness.”

“I see. Might you be in love with me by any chance, Ophiel?”

“I do not know the meaning of love anymore. I act solely upon my priorities. This is not love. This is a reflex.” She stated and turned around to leave.

“Wait, Ophiel.” He stopped her just as she was about to walk through the door.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to let you know, out of all of us who went through the Hailing Ritual, you are the only specimen I would call ‘perfect’. Now as well as before, I’m happy to have worked with you.”

“I understand.”

She nodded. Although she wasn’t smiling, for some reason she looked happier than ever.

She didn’t want to go, but she had to. She didn’t want to part from that person who was so dear and close to her for such a long time, however she knew that if she was to stay with him and do nothing, things would get even worse. This status quo. If all remained as it was now, there would be neither any improvements nor retrogressions. And as a scientist, this was something she couldn't possibly live with.

KILLING TIME



Ken was sitting at Jun’s side, his face buried in his hands. He had thrown his helmet aside and removed his wings to use them as a makeshift blanket for the lifeless girl. He wanted to treat her wounds or at least wipe the dried blood away, but he kept his distance ever since he covered her up. He was too afraid of accidentally worsening her condition. There might’ve been something wrong with her spine as well. Dark images circled through his head and there was a crushing weight on his chest. From time to time he managed to convince himself that all she needed was a doctor and she’d be perfectly fine, smiling and laughing and joking in the hospital bed. These thoughts only made the reality worse.

She would not smile or laugh or joke. At least not for quite a while.

If the unconsciousness lasted more than several minutes, that meant the injury was a serious one.

He hit the floor with his fist.

He couldn’t understand. Why her. Whey her of all people. She was Jun. She was their valuable comrade. She held them together. She, who was a girl as much as she was a ninja. A girl, who wanted to wear summer dresses and eat parfaits. A girl, who had feelings. For him.

He bit his lip, looking at her chalk-white face.

The truth is, I’ve noticed your feelings. But I only know how to fly through the sky and fight those who threaten the peace. I didn’t know how to deal with your feelings, so I didn’t deal with them at all, pretending I haven’t noticed. In a way you frightened me more than Galactor. You were the one I couldn’t handle. Your feelings. And I still can’t. I like you a lot, and you’re irreplaceable to me, but it’s not love. I bet you'd be disappointed to know this. I bet it would make you cry. You would most likely start to look at me with different eyes and I don't want that. I just wanted us to stay the way we've always been. I don’t want to put you before the rest of the team. I like you just like I like Ryu and Jinpei and even that idiot Joe. You all are the only family I have now. I can't afford to lose you. This is something I should’ve told you ages ago, but the longer I kept it inside the more difficult it became. Had I told you, perhaps I wouldn’t have run away from those thoughts; and you. Perhaps I would’ve been more focused. Perhaps I could’ve protected you.

I’m sorry.

Suddenly he cracked a painful smile more akin to a grimace.

See, if we were in a movie, this is where you would wake up and tell me you forgive me. Joe and Jinpei would return, we would leave this place and Ryu would fly us into the sunset, and all would be just swell.

He looked in her face again. Her lips were slightly parted. They were pale and bloodless.

“Sometimes I hate myself so much.”

“You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. After all, our actions are just the total sum of our past circumstances. And you can't change the past.” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly answered.

He jumped up. There was a woman in a labcoat standing there. Her fingers were so long, they brushed against the ground.

“Who are you?”

“I am Ophiel.” The woman answered obediently.

“Ophiel. Why are you here?”he asked in a toneless voice. He didn't really care. She could've been an alien from LV-426 and he wouldn't care.

“To kill you all, of course.”

Hearing this, he wanted to charge at her. He wanted to hack her apart, he wanted to break her neck. But he couldn’t. Not with Jun, lying there without anyone else to protect her. Besides, he was really tired and surely if he would wait long enough, someone more motivated would come by and fight this woman in his stead.

"Why."

Ophiel shrugged.

"It's just a matter of logic, really. Or a better world would be - a matter of causality. I'm the truck whose driver has fallen asleep, you are the frail old lady on the zebra crossing. That's all there is to it. Neither can change our course."

Ken stood up. Muscle memory guided his hand to the holster, but he didn't find anything. The boomerang was gone. He was a useless white shadow after all. He let his father die as well as his mother and countless civilians. He allowed Jun to be stripped off her consciousness and turned into an unseeing doll. The next course of action should've been simple. Jump away, grab shurikens, and aim for the eyes, but all that death and destruction caused by his weaknesses had seeped into his muscles like tar and pinned him on the spot. He was used to pain. Surely this would be quick.

Ophiel leaped. Her knees made a sickening, crunching noise. In the split of second before she reached her target, something as hard as a sack of concrete hit Ken's side and he was thrown to the ground. The impact shook him to the bones.

"Hoo, the reinforcements have arrived." Ophiel observed, retracting her spike-like fingers from the cracks in the ground of the very place where Kan had stood a fraction of second ago.

A moment later Joe kicked her squarely between her shoulder-blades, sending her flying against a wall. Several bones in her fingers snapped, but she didn't seem to register this. Her only reaction was to give Joe a hungry look.

"Sorry, ma'm. Not today."

"You amuse me, young man."

She leaped once again, using all four limbs to propel herself. Joe threw himself on the back and kicked his feet out. Her hands pierced the ground on both sides of his head. It looked like he managed to keep her off his skin, but then her neck stretched out to an impossible length. Her mouth opened and jaws shot out of their place like a sprung bear-trap, like a hunting goblin shark. The skin of her gums tore and the blood-smeared porcelain whiteness underneath fused with the enamel of her teeth into a single nightmarish construct. The fabric of his BirdStyle gave in immediately. It was ripped out along with his skin and some muscle exactly in the same place where he was stabbed by Phaleg's feeler. Joe suppressed a scream which made its way up his throat and grinned.

Got ya.

He swung his fist right at her eye. Clutched in it were four of his shurikens.

Let's see how you'll fare with only one eye and a big-ass blind spot.

Those fearsome tips, which had ended the lives of so many Galactor soldiers, hit the eye as they were supposed to, however instead of going through the retina and slicing the orb like an over-ripe plum, they crashed against a semi-transparent membrane that had covered the organ faster than he could react.

"I see you are pretty proficient in hunting the human game." Ophiel observed as she wrapped her fingers around Joe's throat.

"But you forgot one thing. There are rituals for everything. If you want your hunt to be successful, you have to say Weidmannsheil. Weidmannsheil. WEIDMANNSHEIL!"

Joe was flung against the wall. The impact winded him. He tried to pull himself together. If only he could at least get on his knees... but then Ophiel landed on his back. There was no way he could support her weight. She pinned him to the ground like a bug.

"WEIDMANNSHEIL!!!" came a yell from behind Ophiel's back.

Jinpei slammed his shoulder into her side with an attempt to free his surrogate brother. He did it disregarding the fact that the difference between the two was just too big. Ophiel didn't even stagger. Like a horse trying to chase a bug away, she swung her left arm out and hit the boy right in the head. Or rather, the helmet. A long crack split it in two and it fell to the ground.

"You will lose, you monster!"

"Oh, really? How so?"

"We have the key!"

"Oh, have you? This shoddy trinket is supposed to be a key?"

Her arm shot out, grabbed the key and held it between her thumb and index-finger. With even the slightest bit of pressure the key snapped in two and fell on the ground. Jinpei immediately snatched both halves away. This was not the end. There was no way he would give up just because of this. Surely there was a way to salvage it. Surely there was a way out of this whole mess. A ninja should never give up. A brother should always fight till the last breath to save his sister.

With a loud yell which seemed to have reverberated through the whole chamber, he ran towards Ophiel, avoiding her fingers. Five metres. Four. Three. Two. One and a half. One. Half. Quarter.

And then she headbutted him, sending him sprawling on his back with blood gushing down his split forehead.

"Just give up, boy."

"No, you monster! YOU GIVE UP! Do you think this hurts? To the great ninja of Iga, this is nothing!" he yelled as he jumped up on his feet.

Ophiel got up and threw the youngest Science Ninja against the wall with a barely noticeable flick of her fingers. Only the descent of the very Grim Reaper himself could match her advance, and yet Jinpei refused to give up. He stared her right in the eyes, determined to fight till the bitter end and-

...Ophiel backed away a little.

"What is this, boy? Why do you look at me like that?"

"...look like what?"

"Your eyes. Just like those eyes. Just like that child's eyes."

"What child's?"

"My child's."

Ophiel folded her fingers away and took one step after another towards Jinpei, stopping only when they were less than half a metre apart. The lust for battle from moments ago was all but gone, replaced by a kind of pensive nostalgia which clashed with the inhuman appearance of her physique.

"My child. I had him with a man I didn't love, so I thought I couldn't love him either. But when he said he never expected anything of me and left my home and my life forever, I felt such a strong pain it felt like being crushed by a concrete block. You have the same eyes as him, boy."

Jinpei suddenly felt a twinge of pity for this person in front of him. If her sorrow was this vivid even after she became a monster... he couldn't imagine how much pain she must've been in. And then she smiled. Gently and knowingly, as if she could read his thoughts.

"The life of adults is horrible, boy. There is much pain. Humiliation. Misunderstandings. You lose things important to you more often than you find them and this way you slowly become an empty husk. But you don't need to resign to this fate."

"...what?"

"How about this? Come and live with me. If you stay out there, you'll be torn apart by everyone. Release yourself from the shackles of this world and become your own person. Your hands and no one else's will shape your world. Your mind and no one else's will shape your future. How about it?" she said and moved even closer, offering him her hand.

Though she clearly had him for an ignorant child, Jinpei knew what she was going on about. He knew how horrible the world of adults was. The backstabbing, the atrocities. The way grown-ups screwed each other over for petty, meaningless things. How often was he made aware of that and how often did he wish never to grow up?

But then again... become his own person? Only his hands? Only his mind? He didn't understand. He didn't understand this at all ... but no. Actually, that was a lie. He understood alright. He knew what Ophiel was getting at. It had much to do with that one question he often asked himself. 'Why won't they ever try to understand me for once? ' He often got angry at his sister for denying him all those pets he wanted, at Ken for treating him like the fifth wheel of the team, at Joe, at Ryu, at doctor Nambu... but still, though the youngest of them all, he instinctively understood the reason. It had nothing to do with age or prowess. He was he. They were they. And more often than not their interests would clash. The team was like his family, however at the same time, in a manner of speaking, he had to fight them every single day as if they were his enemies.

And Ophiel offered a solution.

His own person. His own hands. His own mind. His own, his own, his own.

"I refuse." He answered, his throat tight and dry. His own. Alluring as they were, those two words also sounded very lonely. They made him feel depressed and even more helpless than when he was being ordered around by his sister.

Dry were also his hands and tight was his grip around the handle of the key. He thrust the broken object deep in Ophiel's forehead. It pierced her head easily and without much resistance.

"I am my sister's brother. I am my friends' comrade. I am ISO's ninja. I am Iga's successor. What would I be without all these things?"

Ophiel took a step buck. Her smile faded a bit.

"I see. Well, that's too bad. But see here - you can't kill me this way." She said and tugged at the key. The key, which wouldn't come loose. "...eh?" for the first time she seemed genuinely surprised. No matter what she did, the foreign object remained lodged in her skull. What's more, black cracks started to appear all over her forehead. "Is this... is this a piece of Hagith...?" she stumbled back. Her knees buckled under her weight. "...I see. So this is what he meant when he said that this is what defines him. Killing his own kind is what he meant."

The root-like network of black cracks spread even farther. Pieces of her broke off and fell to the ground, dissolving into dust as soon as they touched it. Though Jinpei felt sorry for her, he knew at the same time that this was how it's supposed to be. It hurt him that he was the one to have caused this. Who knows how he would've felt if it wasn't for that content smile which appeared on her face as she turned her face to the ground and spoke to the person who wasn't there.

"You were right! Even though we became like this, we still can't free ourselves from the constraints of our souls! It's just the flesh that has changed! We are still we! and for some reason, I am happy to know that. That means that what I feel for you transgressed worlds and dimensions."

And with these words Ophiel fell face-first on the floor and disintegrated into black dust and white shards.

Alas, this was only the beginning. Those cracks spread like a disease over to the very house itself. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. Bit by bit it slowly disintegrated into nothingness, leaving another world behind. A world of trees, mist, and softy, soggy ground. Soon there was not a single wall in sight.

Free? Were they free? Jinpei, Joe and Ken all looked at each other, completely at a loss of words. The change was just too sudden. Were they really free? Surely this couldn't have been another illusion, could it?

Jinpei helped Joe on his feet and Ken crawled towards Jun. He stretched out his arm to reach her. He was about to touch her with his fingertips. And then-

-the ground shook.

It shook and roared like an angry beast. Fissures split it apart and deep beneath the soil there was odd, animistic darkness which was about to come to life.