Madness!

In Lena's attack on Marcel was no poetry. Only a realistic prose with some naturalistic nuances, like slamming her knee into Marcel's groin during the hack and slash fight. Marcel was confused - he should be happy, because Lena was alive, but Lena was trying to make meat chops from him and Marcel was not the die hard supporter of that idea. But he also tried to avoid hurting her as much as possible and that was a really hard task, because Lena fought with intensity of a tornado and was using the same style as well, when she moved towards Marcel because knives in her delicate white hands whirled like a propeller.



"Make love, not war," asked Marcel blocking her quick strikes with his arms and miraculously avoiding getting cut by her Bowie knives.

"Hippie kay e, mother fucker," replied Lena and jumped on her, wrapping her legs around him and using her body weight to make Marcel to losing balance and fall. But Marcel was stronger than Lena, and soon he was laying on top of Lena, looking into her sky blue eyes and pressing her against the ground. They had a draw. Marcel could not release Lena to avoid her attacking him again and Lena could not push him away and maybe she didn't even wanted to, because all that adrenaline and energy inside of her body made Lena a bit...tinkling.

"Remember your promise, Belle," said Volodja, dropped his sapper shovel and crossed hands on his chest. "Don't hurt anyone else. Sandy is unable to protect herself and Marcel is taken down by Lena who has no intention of letting him to get up...except some parts of him. That leaves only me to continue the fight, but I don't want to. We tried to end Lady's plan and I believe that the last word isn't yet spoken. If we can't find the peaceful solution, then I am ready to pay. But I am not going to fight against you any more, Belle. I can't fight you. You can do whatever you want with me. Peace!"

He could fight to the end, but under the circumstances it would mean a fight with no winners. He didn't want to win at any cost. Especially when someone else had to pay the price for the victory. If Belle wins, they lose. If he wins, they still lose, because both of them were on the same side and no matter who wins the battle, the real winner will be the Mistress. So there was no actual reason to fight each other. Besides - they already bought some time to Atticus.

Oblivious to what was happening in the room with the Terrasphere, Lu was still cleaning up the resistance of Inquisitors, struggling her way to the exit of the Ark. Finally most of the Inquisitors were dead and some dropped their weapons. Lu held them at gunpoint until one of the Indogenes brought a bunch of wiring to tie them up.




After that, she searched them for any hidden weapons and left them in the corridor as she led the group of Indogenes out of the Ark. Once outside, she looked around and saw Inquisitors' aircraft sitting not too far from the Ark they were escaping from.

"Stay low people", she whispered to her group as she saw that the aircraft was guarded by four armed Indogenes, probably from one of the guarding shift. Without hesitation, she launched her Decoy to the side as if she was trying to escape towards the gate. While the guards started to shoot at her holographic image reluctantly and seemingly hating themselves for what they were doing, Lu rushed to the aircraft with her flashbang grenade in hand. She threw it into the group at the same time her Decoy was shattered, making them shake in shock, and then she jumped on one of them and pulled the control rod out of his neck. She didn't have even say a command for the Indogene to rush up to his comrade to free him as well as Lu took care of the other two.

"Where's the second shift?", Lu asked as another possible armed and still enslaved squad was her primary concern now.

"They escaped", one of the Indogenes replied, "Once they saw what was happening, they jumped in their Raptor and raced back to Red Deer to warn people there. Haven't you met them on your way here?"

"No", Lu answered, fearing the worst, "We took a different way here and avoided the main road. Anyway, seems like this is the only transport we can use to get people out of this place. So get it ready to fly to Red Deer but don't take off until I get an all-clear from Esthete."

She waved to the escaping Indogenes that it's safe to move and waited for them to gather at the aircraft. At the very moment when they all boarded it, a Monolith landed at the outside edge of the stasis net, which was surrounding the site.

"Damn, right when you need it the most. Hey guards, do you have the key to the gate? I'd better go talk to our byte-muncher before he thinks we're all still zombies here and a starts to enforce his order on his favorite way."

One of the Indogenes only touched his temple, where his communication implant was and the gate opened, letting Lu out. She rushed away, blowing a kiss to a giant robot so he could clearly see she wasn't affected by any mind-control stuff.

"Glad to see you Miss Luuzuk!", she heard the familiar voice in her head, "Do you need help? And by the way, I've just found this during my trip through the desert. Isn't it something you dropped?"

Only now she noticed the Monolith was holding her Nomad truck gently by its safety cage in one of its claws.

"Yeah, you're right in time to see these people back to Red Deer once it's safe there. And yes, this one is mine, but I didn't drop it, it was holding a rope so that we could climb out of the hole in the ground if we chose it as our way back. Well, thanks anyway for bringing it here, but next time please ask first."

(OOC: Some music for Chase's final moment in this story.  Recommended for after the death of Doppler Ganger: )

“Mission accomplished,” her voice catching her attention, as well as the shifting of the weapon’s bag that hung from his shoulder and against his left hip. “When they go to switch it on, it’ll attempt to boot up and then switch itself off, no matter how many times they try it.”

He turned his attention back to the entryway, keeping the Thunder ready. She came around into his view, a small smile on her face. She preceded to hug him, catching him off guard. It had been some time since they last hugged, which Chase lowered his weapon. He eased up, letting go of a lot of aggression that had built up and kept him on edge. He finally returned the gesture, cupping his mechanical hand behind her head as he held her. He began to think that maybe Iri was right. They needed a vacation away from everything. Taking a break from all worries sounded useful. And then he realized that becoming a monster wasn’t the option, as she was finally safe and they could finally have a moments peace with each other. She was the only peace he ever had, the only he ever needed.

The gunshot rung out. Chase felt it’s impact against her with her head driving forward into his shoulder. Her arms, which had held him, fell from him and slapped into his sides as they went limp. Chase pulled her back to look at her, her eyes closed and her jaw hanging open. He eased her down to the floor, out of the way of the direction of the gunshot. He continued to cup her head, looking down at her.

“I-Iri?”

She didn’t respond to him, him pulling his hand from behind her skull to allow it to rest against the floor. He shook her, a slight tinge of panic and sadness boiling in him.

“Iri, wake up,” he pleaded. “Wake up, Iri. Please, wake up!”

The sadness turned to pain, and his panic morphed into angered. He began to rock back and forth on his knees, hunching over to keep from losing control. And he was failing. He had lost her, and it was his fault. He allowed his emotions to get the better of him, and she paid for it. He looked up in the direction of the door, seeing the man who killed her. A Castithan wearing red armor with silver trim, holding a still smoking pistol. It was at that moment that anything similar to Chase Lonehart had ceased to exist. Something inside of him snapped, some switch in him flipped into overdrive and the autopilot kicked on. Chase grabbed his Thunder, getting up and began to fire at the Castithan. In his rage, he forgot to aim, the shots hitting the wall near the Castithan, driving him back.

Chase began to head towards the door, hobbling from the knee brace that was still on his leg. As he got to the door, he saw that the Castithan was heading down the hallway and with a good head start. Chase took aim and fired at the Castithan again, landing a shot on his shoulder, before continuing to pursue. He was determined, being driven by pure hatred. He was going to kill this son of a bitch, and they both knew it. The Castithan returned fire, Chase ducking into the mouth of an adjacent hallway to avoid the shots. He could hear the Castithan cursing in his native tongue, followed by the sound of an empty magazine hitting the ground. Chase came around the corner, the Thunder raised and firing away. His target ducked back and disappeared, continuing his attempt to flee from the enraged human being.

As Chase continued the pursuit, he didn’t pay any attention to any of the equipment in the hallway. If he had paid attention and hadn’t been blinded by rage, he would have noticed the an acetylene tank that he was passing by on his right. The Castithan with red army and silver trim took advantage of this, firing a flaming round at the tank. It punctured and ignited, shooting a flame out that Chase took a hit on the right side of his face with. He dropped to the ground, beginning to roll to put the flame out and to get the cover. Once the flame on him died, he assessed the damage. He brought his hand up to his face, not feeling any pain since the flame initially made contact with his skin. He ran his hand over the area of injury, which went along his right side from his ear to his mouth, below his cheekbone. It felt leathery, some portions of what was now fried skin breaking free. He could smell the cooked flesh and burnt hair, knowing that he had suffered a severe burn. And all it did was piss him off even more.

He got back up and continued his pursuit, firing round after round at the Castithan. The bastard took a dive left out of Chase’s view. As he finally got to where the pale-skinned son of a bitch had dove to, he found what was an opening that lead outside of the Ark. Chase knelt down, spotting the red armor as the Castithan tried to run for what appeared to be a stony protrusion from the ground a little ways in some attempt to get to cover before the human could get to him. Chase checked his ammo counter, spotting only one round left for the Thunder. He took aim through the scope, taking his time. He pushed the rage back enough to steady himself, to become stone enough to be able to steady his weapon. He inhaled through his nose, and blew out slowly through his lips, pulling the trigger. The LMG kicked as the last shot was fired. It made it’s target, in the Castithan’s right leg. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Chase placed the empty weapon into his bag and crawled through.

The dry desert air was harsh, even more so as the wind began to blow and the sound of thunder echoed. Chase approached Iri’s killer, him desperately trying to crawl for safety. Chase put his foot right onto the wound, applying pressure. This bastard groaned in pain, which was cut off when Chase grabbed the collar of his armor and yanked hard. He knew this guy wasn’t getting any air as he desperately tried to hit Chase’s mechanical arm. But this didn’t stop Chase from what he was going to do, pulling the pale skinned man forward towards the stone outcropping he was trying to get to. Chase threw him against the stone, pulling the strap of his bag over his head and letting it drop at his feet. He stood over the Castithan and dropped his knees right onto his arms, allowing for the pale skin to be pinned in between him and the stony surface behind him. Chase reared his right arm back, ordered 100% and threw the first hit. The Castithan’s nose cracked and pinkness oozed as his head bounced off the stone surface behind him. Another punch was thrown at full power, this time more bones cracking in the face. It was at that moment, Chase had lost himself, throwing punches over and over again. He lost count of how many, or how long he was there. The pain of his loss of Iri, as well as the pain of everything he’s lost and every moment of anger he bottled up and every frustration that had accumulated finally came to the surface and blinded him in nothing but pure rage, him screaming mindlessly as each punch was thrown by his mechanical arm.

By the time he finally came back somewhat to his senses, he found himself straddling a dead body. The Castithan’s head, from his upper lip to the top of his skull was now nothing more than crushed meat in pink sauce flattened against stone. And then the fact that Iri was gone hit him, him letting out a howl of sorrow, as tears began to roll down his face. The only thing he really had left in the world was gone, and no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t protect her, let alone save her. He realized that he had put her in danger and that her death was on his head, not anyone else. He looked out over the desert dunes, the sand almost white. The thunder got louder, Chase turning up to see darkness in the sky and flaming streaks of incoming debris from the sky. The wind blew harder than it had when he first got outside the Ark, it enough to cause sand to grind into the facial.

He had hit bottom, and knew he wasn’t made for this world. Chase realized that he died back in Tampa, but his body was too dumb to realize it. And somehow, whatever was left within the brain-damaged mind of the broken personality that had been once Case Lonehart and Tom Cody, concluded that it was time to correct the error. The first thing he did was retrieve his Charge Blade, turning it on. With his left hand, he felt the back of his neck, finding the spot where his EGO unit was. Using his right arm at one percent power, he brought the Charge Blade to the area of his neck and proceeded to slice open his skin, the pain intense but not enough to stop him from what he was going to do.

Chase? McCoy began to ask. Wha-

He used the tip of the blade to cut into the EGO unit, causing it to deactivate and detach itself from him. With his good hand, he removed the piece of technology from him. He deactivated the Charge Blade, the sound of the thunder booming even louder as it echoed amongst the dunes. He sat it down, dipping his mechanical index finger into the pink blood of his dead enemy, and wrote three words on the stone beside him:



He moved back over to his weapon’s bag, dropping his Charge Blade, his EGO unit, his scrip chip and his VBI Player into the bag, dragging it over to the feet of the man he killed. Chase felt he wasn’t going to need it anymore. He was leaving behind relics of a person who no longer existed, a person who would cease to exist. Chase just turned away from the Arkfall and began to walk, heading off into the nothingness. He knew his death was going to be slow and agonizing in the barren land, that once he ceased that his flesh would rot away and his bones would be bleached by the sun and eventually become dust and eventually nothing of him would be left. It was from nothing he was born, and it was of nothing he would die. The wind blew hard enough that with each step, any trail that he left disappeared. He climbed over a dune and continued on as the razor rain storm grew.

The good always die, was the last thought his damaged brain had before he cleared it and thought of nothing else as he walked off to whatever fate awaited for him.

Taffer could see the mini-war master that was Belle Starr leaving the Presidio Bunker and heading north to the coast through link to the VBI satellite still stationed above the San Francisco wasteland. He knew it was Belle, because there were no other mini-war masters wearing expandable red white and blue armor that he was aware of, and he knew her habit of going to watch the ocean waters to relax, which was what she would need to do to change back to human form. Taffer also noted that Inquisitor vehicles were leaving the Presidion bunker as well, scattering to the four winds. It brought to mind a rotten wall of a house that he had seen once demolished, with cockroaches pouring out and scattering everywhere.

"The Inquisition is just like that," Thought Taffer to himself, "An infestation that needs to be wiped out."