Chapter I:

-''A Time of Mourning''-

-Connorsville, Illinois-
-02 November 2002-

-1010 Hours-

They say that time heals all wounds, for some...that may be true...for others, not so much. Great Commander Alex Vaughn, founder and leader of the Terminator Militia-a military composed of some of the most fantastic characters in the history of the world, had just the witnessed the brutal demise of one of his prized soldiers...and one of his best friends...

Northwestern Regional Commander Rapid had fallen to by a silver bullet to the brain. Since the army's formation in 1997, Alex had held a sense of invincibility, that his forces were unstoppable, upon Rapid's death, however, he saw that, like everything else, the militia had a weakness...silver. Even with the mutation serum, even with the amazing powers he could possibly develop, he was still only human, and, like every living thing, given the right conditions, he could be killed.

His sleep was continuously haunted by Rapid's death, of seeing the blood-boiling as the silver violently reacted with the serum absorbed in the blood, producing heat that literally boiled the blood-and of seeing as his longtime friend fell to the fate of a single gunshot, fired by accident by the one who was holding him hostage.

Alex had mixed feelings concerning Rapid's death, a part of him blamed himself for the skunk's death, for delaying the killing of Rapid's executioner before the bullet could be fired, the other part blamed Cheet, a cheetah cub and the Terminators' newest member, who, upon attacking General John "No-Tongue" Roberts, leader of the Little Kid Army or LKA, had surprised the general and caused him to depress the trigger of the Colt .45, firing the silver bullet through Rapid's brain...the bullet that ultimately killed one of Alex's best friends.

Alex's young forest dragon, Piermont, could tell by the mutual mind the military shared that enabled telepathic conversations, that Alex was hurting...that a massive part of Alex's heart had been ripped from his chest. Along with forcing the Commander to come to terms with his own mortality, it had also caused the young, nine-year-old boy to collapse into a deep depression, to which his fellow teammates were beginning to worry about.

At Rapid's funeral, held in their town of residence, nobody spoke, nobody looked up, everyone wore a black garb and covered their faces. No outburst of energy...no witty remark...the pervasive solemnity was enough to bring even the toughest man to tears. The militia broadcasted their sadness like radios into the cemetery. Anyone who entered was bound to fall prey to the melancholy, even those who despised or did not know the skunk.

As the bagpipes played, and Rapid's body rested on a pile of hay bails that Piermont and the other dragons set fire to, Alpha Company, as well as friends, family, and even total strangers stood around, watching the cremation. For as a soldier was born of fire, so shall he die of fire.

As the fires burned on, Sergeant Major Crash Bandicoot approached Piermont and whispered, "God I hope Alex is okay."

"He's not," Piermont replied sadly, stunning emerald eyes shining with tears, "He's hurting."

"I feel so bad for him."

"Aye, as do I...but I think this will be an excruciatingly difficult memory to overcome. If Alex overcomes it at all, it will be a God-given miracle."

"It's always the good ones that die..."

"It's God's way."

"I wish it wasn't...how much pain did he suffer through?"

"Much I'd imagine. I mean, his blood literally boiled inside his body," the army-green dragon replied, "Poor Alex blames himself for this tragedy."

Crash hesitated before saying, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Please comfort him...he needs it."

Crash solemnly nodded, and walked towards the Commander, "Alex? Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Alex shook his head slowly, his face showed the shock value he still felt over Rapid's death...and Crash knew it was a memory, a demon, he would never overcome. Crash waited a few minutes to speak as Alex stared off into the space in front of him, facial expression blank, as if he was lost in his own world.

"Alex..." Crash began, "You do know that his death wasn't your fault...right?"

Alex shook his head, "I killed him..."

"No you didn't."

"Then Cheet killed him..."

"He didn't either."

"Well ONE of us had to!" Alex shouted angrily, causing Crash to wince. "I should have killed the general before he was able to shoot Rapid, but I was too afraid to. And Cheet, Cheet didn't help either, if he wouldn't have attacked him, Rapid would not have been shot."

Alex fell back down as fresh tears came to his eyes. "I could have stopped it."

"No, it was imminent. There was no way you could stop it," Crash knew very well that this was a lie, but if it could improve his friend's melancholy, he was more than willing to speak it.

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are, I can tell. What you say and what you think are two completely different views. You spoke the positive one to 'make me feel better', but in all reality, you know as well as I that the shooting could have been prevented, pending I would have taken action when I had the opportunity."

Crap, Crash thought behind the impregnable, steel walls of the private half of his mind, I forgot about the mutual mental bank.... What he said was, "Alex, no. There was nothing you could do."

"Stop lying to me! For the love of Christ, stop freaking LYING to me! You KNOW it could have been prevented!"

Crash then realized that there was no reasoning with him, and, feeling like he failed his mission, he returned to his post, ushering Piermont over to talk to his rider. "Wait, what? If you failed, what makes you think I will do any better?"

"You're his dragon," Crash whispered to the dragon, casting occasional, cautious glances at the Commander who still sat in his own little world, "You bonded with him at the Choosing, so you have a greater effect on him than I. As odd as it may seem, Piermont, he worships the ground you walk on."

"Why?"

"Because of the Choosing, because of the close, eternal bond you share. You try talking to him, perhaps he'll listen to you...and you are also a much better liar than myself."

"Yeah, you mean that I never forget about the mental bank?"

Crash lowered his head, shaking it.

"Hey, if I could hear you, so could Alex."

"Can you just...try? Please?"

"Fine, but don't expect me to fare better than you did. Especially since the intention of these talks has already been shredded by a careless thought."

Crash, eyes narrowed, glared at the smiling Piermont, "You're an arrogant prick."

"Thank you!" Piermont said, looking pleased with himself and the comment.

"Oi...just...talk to him."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Whatever."

"Sorry, I meant: 'Yes Mother'."

"Just go goddammit!"

"Okay! Okay! Jesus Christ! Settle down man! It's just a joke...Jesus."

Piermont walked over to the Commander, trying his luck to cheer his rider up. "Alex?"

"What do you want, Piermont?"

The dragon sat beside his rider, "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About Rapid, he was a good friend."

"Aye, I agree."

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

"I just fear that Rapid's death was my fault."

"Why?"

"I could have shot and killed No-Tongue, I could have stopped Rapid's shooting."

"Commander...there's nothing you could have done."

"Yes, I could have stopped it," as Alex lowered his head in shame, Piermont glanced over at Crash, who was giving him two thumbs up.

Piermont shook his head, tending to his rider. "C'mon," the dragon said, "Let's go for a walk."

Looking back, Piermont saw that Crash clearly not happy about this unplanned idea. All Piermont did was throw him the bird.

In the woods adjacent to the cemetery, Piermont and Alex walked side-by-side, together. As he normally did when he was alone with his rider, Piermont's cocky, arrogant attitude mysteriously vanished, and his true colors showed. "It's not your fault, Alex," he began, "What happened to Rapid was impossible to prevent."

"It is..."

"No."

"How can you say that, Piermont?"

"I can because of this: it was Rapid's destiny to die. God has a plan for everybody. Everything that happens happens for a reason. Whether that event is a close friend or family member's death, an injury, a theft...it doesn't matter."

"A reason for everything? I have yet to see any clear reason for Rapid's demise."

"Just because you don't know His reasoning doesn't mean you should judge God's reason or his judgment. He knows why He killed Rapid, even if you don't. Don't lose faith, Alex, please. I know we all are hurting, Rapid was a dear friend, someone who's level of charisma, kindness, selflessness, and loyalty is unmatched and irreplaceable. We all loved him, Commander, and we all miss him, but we need to move on. Do you think Rapid would want us remembering him has he laid dead on that cold, cracked concrete floor? No! Of course not! He would want us to remember him as a hero, as a friend, as a good person...not as the wasted shell of a dead soldier. You owe him that much, we ALL owe him that."

"Piermont...this is something that no amount of faith or knowledge will surrender. The nightmares might weaken, or we might grow tolerant to them to the point that we've been desensitized and their ineffective, but they will still be there. For the rest of our lives, Piermont, that day will haunt us...and we are hardly nine years old."

Piermont looked away, in shame, "I know, Alex...the nightmares are merciless, ruthless, and several times I've nearly given up on life because of that."

Alex looked genuinely alarmed, "How could you have hid it?"

Piermont shrugged, "Didn't think I did, maybe you were too worried about your current place to notice the mental and emotional well-being of your friends and dragon."

This caught Alex, and the latter pained him. He felt really bad now, caring only for himself, that he had forgotten his friend, and shied away the suffering of his own dragon...the one who had engaged in a fatal bond with Alex, having chose him over any other rider.

"Piermont...I'm sorry," Crying, Alex hugged the big dragon, never recalling loving him more, "Piermont..." Alex whispered, "I love you..."

"I love you, too..." The dragon replied, returning the hug.

The funeral service was short, and immediately after, Crash decided to treat the rest of Alpha Company to lunch. At The Beef House just past the Illinois-Indiana border, the Terminators sat around, eating the free rolls and jam at their table. Alex was the only one not eating, he seemed distant, spaced out, dreaming. The others just stared at him in confusion, only Piermont, fully understanding, did not, and he too seemed to be looking off into space.

Prodding the Commander's mind, they could pick up little, he wasn't thinking. Obviously, this wasn't the case, everybody thinks, so, somehow, Alex had completely severed the mental link to the rest of his troops, closing off his mind in a soundproof, impregnable, steel wall. Worried about what thoughts circulated in the Commander's eerily calm and solemn mind, Alpha Company was on edge...ready for anything. Whether or not Alex was suicidal, nobody knew, except Piermont.

However, Piermont also had severed the link, breaking off all connection, and rendering all attempts to prod into his mind invalid. They spoke amongst themselves, using their telepathy to their advantage. Alex and Piermont, having severed the mental line from the rest of the company, had no access to the mental bank unless they came out of hiding. If the Terminators couldn't hear their commanders, then their commanders couldn't hear them. Even if the commanders did try sneaking out of their mental fortresses and out of hiding, Alpha Company waited by the doors, waiting to storm his mind at the first signs of its opening.

They needed to know what was going on within the grief-stricken Commander's mind, they needed to know if there was cause for worry. His silence was unnatural, unhealthy, and they feared for his safety. They knew very well he was depressed, that Rapid's death had an especially painful effect on him, yet, they didn't know how he was reacting behind those closed mental doors.

Even Piermont, who, thanks to his notorious antagonism of the skunk, one would not believe would be affected, was taking Rapid's death hard. Whether this was a cause of his own, private admiration of the soldier, the Commander's grief being broadcasted very intensely via the Dragon/Rider mental bond, or a combination of both, no one knew.

All they knew was that something was wrong, and Great Commander Alex Vaughn needed help.

When we get back, Crash thought at the others, I'm calling a psychologist. If intervention is needed, Alex is getting one.