Guyver Evolution Chapter 1, a guyver fanfic

EVOLUTION

Evolution

R E V E R S I O N E D

A Guyver Bio-Booster Armour Fan Fiction

By Nicholas Paul Clark (Warriorsong)

Life…

An Infinite Energy

"At the dawn of Creation, The Gods arrived on Earth,

Now, we shall know their awful legacy and how it affects Mankind."

Chapter One

Arrival

"Oh, oh people of the earth

Listen to the warning

The seer he said

Beware the storm that gathers here

Listen to the wise man"

Queen - "The Prophet's Song" - A Night at the Opera

The mountainside was cold and brisk; its sister peaks straining towards the sky and their forgotten sibling across the fertile grazing lands of the west. The Central Plateau spread beneath the three mountains like a brown rash on an otherwise lush green skin. The slopes of the mountains were covered in a light dusting of powdered snow. This early in the season, snowfall was late in arriving, yet the chill breeze on the exposed peaks was reminder enough that winter had already griped the land.

The slope of the squat, multifaceted southern giant bustled with activity; its southern and southwest faces marked for recreational play, while the north and east were bare. A break in the snow was marked as several figures moved from west to north, moving towards the exposed volcanic rock of the naked summit.

"It probably can't get any worse," thought Sean Barker. The husky blonde archaeology student stubbornly slogged up the muddy hillside on the underside of a seemingly overloaded pack. The ground was a quasi-frozen slush, the wind and sun melting the powder to icy rivulets. Yet the wind on the peak blasted the harder snow away, leaving a furrowed trail and impending rain for the plains below. The young man pushed aside frustration and continued up the trail, following the pace set by the leader of their little expedition.

"Hurry it up you guys at the back, that storm is getting closer and we need to be at the cabin before it hits!" bellowed Professor Travis, the balding Englishman, his voice harsh like the chill breeze, clouded like the sky by a nimbus of some indistinguishable accent. His head, matching the mountain's bare scalp, was framed in a fiery red; opposed in bright contrast to the speckled white they were travelling through.

Down the line of trampers and over the ridge followed the lithe form of a young Japanese girl and the limber frame of the Australian. Sean barely noticed these two companions, his almost friends, however, as the irritability and gloom of the two before him had put him in a foul mood even before they had began their ascent up the barren slopes of Mount Ruapehu. Sean watched them over the top of his sunglasses.

Kristen and Zack, a pair of American exchange students. Both grumbled under their breath at the shape of the professor of geology disappearing over the ridge. Both were in the mental state of merely being out for a stroll. The man's dark hair matched his clothing, an almost macabre image in the stark colourless environment. The female was blonde, her hair catching what little sun raced ahead of the storm. Her eyes however, were cold, more so than the swift wind. Sean hadn't really spoken to them but they appeared to be shallow, vain and petty. While Sean was against judging others, these two had made out from day one that they were above the other students in the class. Snide remarks and self-righteousness had earned than a number of unsavoury nicknames. "Bastard" was a word that Sean could see them both wearing as well as the expensive tailored snowsuits, that in their own way seemed to mock the rather hap-dash ensembles worn by the rest of the party. He didn't really like shallow people; he had found them to be only out for themselves, vain people, selfish, but the eyes, they chilled him with the emptiness they projected. Potentiality a big factor, this self serving prejudice, which in a situation such as the one they were walking into, was not a good thing. This mountain wasn't a stranger to blood, nor indiscriminate rage. The entire country was rugged, tamed but wild, like a dog, domestic but also unpredictable.

Stepping over the ridge, biting air buffeting his thick jacket, Sean looked down upon the gently sloping volcanic bowl, which reached its terminus in the verdigris-coloured lake, the faint tang of sulphur clouding his nostrils. The cabin could be seen, in a shallow depression, sheltered on three sides by the hard basaltic rock. The cabin was a stout stone and wood affair; its roof high pitched to allow snow to slide off and a thick chimney stretching up like a native totara tree. The sun crested the rapidly overtaking clouds and struck out in farewell to the land, beams of light dancing on the bare peaks of the mountainous sisterhood. Sean pushed his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose and shrugged under the pack, repositioning it.

Almost like magic, as he stepped into the mouth of the beast, the clouds scudded gently across the sky, obscuring the remaining blue into a dull lead grey, and the first flakes of the oncoming blizzard lazily drifted through the sky. He stopped to take in the magnificence of natures, albeit premature; closing of the day.

The point of the whole expedition, as pointless as it now was, was for a geology assignment. Sean was an avid learner, depending on circumstances. That is to say that he would pay attention as long as something, anything, managed to hold his attention. He didn't like the whole structured learning environment that seemed prevalent throughout the western world, and as such, he usually took longer than other students did to pass classes. His high school guidance counsellor had termed it "a slacker attitude". Truth be told, he got bored easily, and had been reprimanded for displaying such boredom on more than one occasion throughout his colourful academic career. Over his twenty-five years of life he had studied parts of many fields and was yet to find his niche. But in recompense, he knew a little about a lot, as opposed to most who learn a lot about very little. Speciality training, Travis had called it, in being prepared for anything that decided to happen. But in his heart, Sean had always loved archaeology, so after winning a minor prize in the national lottery, he had paid up his student loans and gone back to study at university. He took the geology course to ground some knowledge of that in his head, old habits dying hard in a way. It would take a while but he had plenty of time, and at present, money.

Something about the hidden, the ancient and the way it formed the present and in its interpretation, the future, drew Sean to it. Answers in a seemingly nonsensical world.

Sean smiled quietly to himself, wondering that if he could do things differently, normally, whether he would or not.

However, due to the mountains gregarious nature and the unreliable meteorological service, this educational jaunt had been effectively sidelined.

"What's with you Sean?" asked a quiet voice. Sean knew it was Rei Keiosagi, the young Japanese exchange student. Turning towards her, he could she her face was at an angle, an expression almost of anime-esque confusion. Sean smiled to himself and spread his arms to encompass the vista before them.

"Not much, Rei, just taking in the view", he replied. She had obviously moved past him, continued, stopped and looked back to see him exposed on the cusp of the bowl, and then wandered back to ask if he was alright. Rei noticed that his face had gone from a quiet contemplative joy back to its usual shape, almost frowning, like something nasty was going to happen, and as soon as he had lowered his guard, it would strike.

Rei could not explain the feeling, but she was drawn to this man, secret and almost cold, like he had a burning fire of emotion behind, drawing the wandering heart in her closer. She shook it off; this wasn't the time or place for that kind of thought.

"Well, get moving or we're gonna have to dig you out in the morning" commented Travis over the wind. The tall Englishman was helping the two Americans and the Australian, Hugo Bannont, out of their packs. They had walked on, leaving Sean and his confused companion some twenty metres up the rocky trail. The snow didn't linger here in the crater, perhaps aware of the ferocious power beneath.

Sean shrugged at the remark, a gesture all too familiar, and wandered over to the professor and took off his pack. Turning and wiggling to release himself of the confining straps, he turned and Travis handed back his pack. Sean entered the cabin, its wide door and heavy beamed jamb overshadowing him, almost like he was entering a cave. Travis did likewise for the slender girl and followed her into the cabin, shutting the thick wooden door and the rising storm behind them.

The cabin was a deep affair, dug into the rock at the back and the floor. A small plaque, once gold, now more dusty that gleaming, detailed how a large deposit of pumice had been extracted and the small caves had been altered and incorporated to help support the cabin. Built, as it was into the mountain itself, the cabin had both the protection of the natural crater wall and the warmth that travelled through rock. A large wetback fireplace occupied most of the far wall, the rest of that wall occupied by a ceiling high pile of firewood, half log hunks and rings like side tables. Enough for the night, and then several dozen more.

Sean immediately dumped his bulky pack and insulated jacket against the wall nearest the door and moved towards the fireplace. Preferring a more moderate climate, neither too hot, nor too cold, he grabbed the topmost of a pile of newspapers in the corner and an armload of kindling wood. He then, tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth in an effigy of mute concentration, proceeded to light the fire.

The feel of eyes on him, some friendly, some not, caused Sean to replace his tongue in its rightful position and address his comment to the world in general and no one in particular. "The sooner this fire is lit, the sooner we can get cleaned up and eat." There was no untoward response and then a hulking shadow fell over his shoulder.

"How long, d'ya suppose, until the tank is heated" asked Travis, stroking what seemed to be several days of stubble on his chin. It seemed that when he wasn't yelling, his accent took a firmer hold.

"Dunno," said Sean, looking up at the face that most resembled some northern warrior deity rather than a university lecturer, "most likely around a couple of hours till it's heated to about a moderate temperature. Enough to freshen us up without killing us with frostbite anyway. Depends on how well and how hot this wood burns."

"Well, it's about two thirty or so now, so we might as well relax. Plus I'd rather have some fresh drinking water defrosted and a cup of coffee to wind down anyway. Warm the inside fore the outside. What about you, ah Sean?" asked the heavyset man. Sean liked him. He wasn't what most people considered the typical Brit, or assumed to be the typical Brit from television. He was more like a coalminer. Brash, good-natured and often prone to bad language, yet he had a gift for creating an air of mystery and intrigue about his teachings. Sean often wondered if he hadn't been a coalminer once, as his and the earth's relationship seemed pretty much like a marriage. The likeable man had adapted to life in New Zealand quite nicely, by the looks of it. He had once commented to his small geology class that he left England because he had had enough off all the monarchist nonsense and the shit people had to put up with. Oft times his accent would slip, becoming harsher or softer depending on the subject matter. This man had a colourful history, no doubt there.

Sean nodded and stood up. Looking around he could see the rest of the group doing their own things. Hugo, the twenty something year old Australian was into the food closet. The guy was stringy as hell, yet he ate like it was going out of fashion. Good thing was that the guy was a great cook and when he had food he was free to offer it. From what conversations they had had, Sean knew his parents were rather wealthy, Hugo's home being a large sheep and cattle station deep in Australia's heartland. Rei, the nineteen-year-old Japanese girl was talking quietly to Hugo while she set the gas cookers ready to go. She made Sean feel strange, yet he couldn't explain why. She was friendly, likeable and wore her heart on her sleeve with an innocence that was refreshing and wholesome. He had caught himself watching out for her on a couple of occasions, not realising until after the fact. It embarrassed him, but if she had noticed, nothing was said.

The returning thought of coffee pushed that other thought from his mind and made Sean's mouth water, as he slowly made his way towards the kitchen area, the fire, newly born behind him, crackling eagerly.

Hugo was rather plain looking, brown hair and eyes but an open face and ever rarer in today's world, an open mind. Rei was almost the moon to the blonde that Sean could see off in the corner of his eye. The total opposite to the burning sun. Pale, luminous and with eyes full of warmth and compassion. Of anybody in his life, she had been the only person that Sean had felt an instant attraction too. Her infectious behaviour and good nature often lifted him from his more depressive moods. Further than that, he didn't want to see, it bothered him thinking of her as anything else besides a friend. There was that embarrassment again. Damn.

Then his eyes roving, he caught sight of Zack and Kristen. Something about these two bugged him. A vibe, much more than simply the attitude and ego. Rich, he could tell when he first met them, that air of arrogance seemed to waft off them like the stink of fresh pig shit. They had only been at Auckland for the last month, having transferred from UC Berkeley in California. They looked down their noses at most of the other student's back at the campus. Like they weren't good enough to be in their collective presence. Zack was slouched down in a chair, as though he expected to be waited on, his hair hanging over his downcast eyes, while Kristen looked around in distaste as if she would not house a dog in such quarters. The dark haired athletic man in the chair was staring into the flames of the fire, like he was willing it to burst forth.

Sean managed to suppress a snort (and the surprising urge to piss on the fire; just to get annoy that American). He was all for cleanliness and comfort, even in abundance, but man, these two pushed it. It was almost like anything below Park Royal, Hilton, Sheridan or whatever was below them. "Far too distasteful, what?" Sean muttered under his breath with disgust.

Shaking himself from his revelry, Sean moved back towards his gear, the fire behind him coughing its way to full life. He pulled on his jacket and opening the heavy door stepped outside the cabin, shutting the blooming warmth behind him. Reaching deep into his jacket he produced a small unmarked metal case, flicking it open unconsciously with one finger. Lighting up a cigarette he inhaled deeply and sighed in relief. He knew it was almost a blasphemy, to enjoy the fresh air while having a smoke, but he had always enjoyed a cigarette in the cold weather. He had quit before, but had always started again. He never knew why, he always made some excuse, but really he was just looking for an escape, something to occupy his hands. Like the continued study occupied his mind.

He sighed.

But then again, who wasn't looking for that escape?

A small hand placed itself on his shoulder and handed him a large mug filled with steaming coffee. He had been so occupied in his pessimism that he hadn't even heard the door or the soft crunch of her boots.

"Penny for your thoughts?" said Rei. Again, Sean realised, she had done it. Calling him on whatever was getting him down, like she could feel his mood.

"Just wondering why I keep coming back to this damn habit. It's like a bad crush, first girlfriend kinda thing, or something."

"Maybe you're just waiting for the right reason to quit." The right reason, Sean thought, or the right person to quit for. Someone to hold in his arms instead of the cigarette in his hand.

"Maybe." said Sean, somewhat unconvinced, despite his silent musing. Rei wasn't surprised at his answer. In the short time they had been studying together, some six months, her student exchange visa being late and him being Sean, she could read him now like a favourite book. His pessimism was almost behemoth in its scope. They had argued the case once, she saying his pessimism was merely him trying to hide from the beauty of life, but him assuring it was simple common sense to be ready for anything. Sean had stated simply, optimism was a fairy tale, because nothing would ever go right all the time and being that way was simply setting oneself up for a fall; and that being prepared for the worst, allowed the nice things to be more of a surprise. Her poking her tongue at him had ended that argument in a way she still remembered. Him laughing. It was a joyous sound that had made her the happiest since she had left home. She really liked that sound.

It was sad that she didn't hear it more often. Sad too, that that conversation had been months ago.

Turning to leave, Rei patted Sean's shoulder gently and reached for the door handle. She thought better of it however, and stuck her gloved hand into the snow built up against the cabin's side, an icy extension of the crater rim. Quickly, Sean oblivious, already back in his melancholy, she placed it on the back of Sean's neck.

Sean squealed.

The giggling girl closed the cabin door on the wildly gesticulating man; the cigarette hissing on the damp rocks as it fell unnoticed from his lips.

The afternoon passed in a lazy haze, like the heat shimmering from the roaring blaze in the hearth. Hugo, after cooking a large early dinner had fallen asleep on an armchair, his long legs stretched before him. Travis was seated at the large table, busy going over his notes, his round reading glasses attempting to leap from his nose. Meanwhile a warm and content looking Rei sat next to the fire nursing a cup of herbal tea, her knees curled in against her chest, humming quietly to herself.

Noticing Sean looking at her she poked her tongue at him.

Sean, himself stretched out deep in an armchair, his thick socks half off his feet, drooping as relaxed as he was, a book in his hand, he turned his attention back to the Americans. They were seated on the couch furthest from the rest of the group, talking quietly to each other and going over their notes. Sean shrugged himself and turned back to his novel. He had read it before, but he enjoyed it, like seeing old friend's again.

The moon shone down upon the slopes of Mount Ruapehu, with the stark corrugated iron peeking through the snow on the top of the cabin. Slowly like a child drifting off to sleep unwilling, the clouds covered the moon like an eyelid and the blizzard dropped like a barometric missile on the Central Plateau.

Sean awoke, his eyes heavy. His sleeping bag was pulled tight around his head and body like a cocoon, his legs twisted in the material, wrapping him warmly. He burped deeply, early morning content. Closing his eyes, he hoped to drop back to sleep, mainly due to the fact that no one else was stirring and that there was no television to watch cartoons on. Almost back where he had been comfortable, he was jarred awake by undignified manly screaming.

"Fuck!" screamed the form of a half-naked Australian. Hugo had made the mistake of setting his feet on the floor without socks. The linoleum was, of course, unpleasantly cold.

Seeing the Australian dancing about in his strides set Sean and the newly awakened Travis into fits of laughter. The wiry man was almost like a puppet, limbs flailing as he sought heat in the icebox kitchen.

Gingerly moving back to the relative warmth of his down filled sleeping bag, Hugo gave them the finger, got dressed, and made his way to the outhouse.

Sean gingerly unzipped his own sleeping bag, twisting his legs from the confines. Sitting up slowly, the air chill against his naked chest, he pulled on his trousers and climbed out of bed. Making his way quietly to the fire as not to wake Rei, Kristen and Zack, he squatted down and proceeded to light the main and only major heat source they had.

The young girl looked beautific in sleep, innocence personified. Not surprisingly and not without a sneer of disgust, Sean also noted the American couple had moved nearer to the fire after the rest had lain down to sleep.

While the water boiled on the stove with which to do the dishes, Sean stood outside looking over the crater. The blizzard had only been a small one and while the temperature had plummeted overnight, the snow was just a sprinkling of powder. The crater was gray as was expected, the early sunlight cresting the rim, dancing across the crater lake, flicking colours across the mineral deposits in the water, rich reds and blue silvers highlighted in the otherwise aged copper green.

The door opened behind him and Travis stepped out, tightly packing his tobacco into his pipe with his little finger.

"So, what's the plan for today?"

"Well, Sean; I though we could take a look around the ridge line and head over to the monitoring station just over the far ridge." The chest of the burly man moved as his lungs pumped air through the slow lighting tobacco, a hammy fist and index finger indicating the ridge to the west. Sean waved his cigarette case at the professor in offering, but the large man shook his hand in the negative as his tabac caught.

"Cool." said Sean, placing the metal case back into his jacket.

Just then, Rei popped her head through the open door. "I had heard that Australian's and New Zealander's are born in barns but I expect better from an English gentleman." Travis was about to come out with a scathing remark, when he was interrupted as Rei continued. "Sean, your pots are ready."

"Cheers, Rei" said Sean nonchalantly as he knocked the thick powder off his boots and returned inside the cabin, calling to Travis over his shoulder, mock butler voice full force; "Shall I shut the door for you, Sir?"

The snowball missed his head, disappearing into the cabin and crashing against the far wall.

Travis turned to the scene before him and drew on his pipe. "Sarcasm has definitely corrupted that girl."

Some three hours later and the group were around the far side of the crater looking off towards the outer slopes that descended towards the fertile lands of the Waikato plains. Two hundred or so metres down the slope stood the monitoring station, squat in bulk and generally unassuming. Further down could be seen the chairlifts and platters which constituted the upper runs of Whakapapa Skifield.

"They ski, on the slopes of an active volcano?" Zack commented, clearly about to make some point, or opinion, which he believed to be gospel.

"Best slopes in the North Island," replied Sean, with pride in his country and in the slopes where he had first skied, or at least tried too. He still remembered it, some eleven years later. Sean however did omit that it was also the only ski-able slopes in the North Island.

"Dangerous if you ask me," said Zack, looking sidelong at Sean with a mocking tone in his voice. Opinion as gospel, it seemed.

Sean was about to say something offensive, having just about had it with this Yank wanker not saying anything unless it was derogatory, rude, offensive or all three. The bastard hadn't even thanked Hugo for the meals or anything. Hell, the guy took the place nearest the fire and let the fucking thing go out.

"Considering that the mountain has an advanced warning system, unparalleled in the world, the mountain can be cleared in an hour or so." interjected Travis, trying to diffuse the situation. His tone indicated something else too. Scorn, maybe. Travis obviously wasn't keen on the opinionated young man either.

"Still, that may be, but it betrays a lack of common sense to me," whined the haughty American, his mocking tone making it an insult rather than a statement.

Hugo quickly placed himself between the American and the reddening Sean. While they hadn't known each other for that long, both the Australian and New Zealander got on well, despite popular opinions that it was impossible in their respective countries, whose rivalry was a global legend.

"Chill," muttered Hugo under his breath, aside to Sean. Obviously the American was getting under his skin as well.

Sean merely grunted a forced positive and wandered off a ways to the south, looking out under the pretence to see if he could see Kapiti Island from his perch on the island's highest point. Really it was so he didn't do something stupid like knock that smart arse back into the crater.

Zack smirked at the blonde man's back, obviously enjoying his game of bait the man most likely to snap.

Stepping outside the hut and doing up his jacket, Brendan noted the group standing above him. Remembering something about a geology group from Auckland University being on the Mount, he realised they would probably want a look at the station. Someone to talk to would be nice, it was good to be alone but humans were social by nature. That and there were several young women up there and he was single.

"The monitoring station is manned by a single ranger on a forty eight-hour shift basis. While they sleep, eat and monitor, the auxiliary alarms could sound at any time. Totally automated, human intervention is only necessary for analysis, maintenance and notification." The group of students had made their way to the station, where their tutor had made the introductions. Most seemed interested while several of the small band obviously had other things on their mind. Most notably the two with American accents and the large blonde man.

From what the group had gathered in their short conversation, the guide, Brendan had been doing the job for a couple of years now. On a personal view, Brendan quite liked it. He got away from all the crap that came with city living and his love of extreme sports was what filled the other five days of the week when he worked as an outdoor recreation instructor for the various companies acting out of Taupo, Turangi and Ohakune.

His had been a quiet couple of years on the mountain, of which he was glad. He had started after the ash fallout and sulphur cloud incident that had occurred almost four years ago. He remembered it though; he was in Wellington at the time and remembered the grit falling and the stench on the harbour winds. It was a small eruption but its power was spectacular. That was the power of the earth, to do something explosive and then be still, like a pouting child.

He checked his wristwatch. Yep, it was time to check the markers. Various markers were set out in a small radius from the station and on the above ridge. Measurements where taken once a week to measure movement and other activity within the earth and in the free flowing molten rock beneath. Being on the crest of a subsiding plate, the numbers were always different, but not by much, not enough to case concern.

Sean couldn't see Kapiti Island. Cloud and all. Pity, but it had calmed him down. Moving down the slope slightly hadn't helped any but he had needed to make a pretence of paying attention to the guide.

Sean turned around to see a ranger talking quietly to Travis. Rei and Hugo were gossiping quietly, Rei occasionally looking over at Sean, but hiding the fact that she was doing so. Kristen and Zack were huddled conspiratorially over some sort of object that they held between them.

He just shrugged it off as some rich snob thing and walked over towards Travis and the ranger.

Zack looked at the machine he held shielded between his body and Kristen's.

"And these readings are accurate" he said. He had a commanding voice that had a harsh almost whining subtone. It was a voice that tried to command respect, but gave none. Uncious, it was the kind of voice one obeyed but pulled the finger at later.

"Yes," replied Kristen. "According to the readings the bio-signature of the device should be nearby." She looked around, glancing quickly across the crater and down the slope.

"About fucking time," said Zack "this country is a shithole. And its humans are annoying."

"Speaking of that, why must you provoke Barker?"

"That hothead? It's just something to pass the time." Zack seemed unconcerned about the object of his game, who would at first glance be able to put him down rather promptly.

"Do not let a casual dalliance disrupt the mission. Even if I do agree." Kristen spat, as if the taste of saying that had somehow sullied her mouth.

"No Commander," replied Zack in a sullen tone. There was no mockery this time however.

Travis introduced the ranger specifically to Sean, "This is Brendan - he's the mountain watcher, so to speak."

Sean feigned an apology for being slightly distracted which the ranger dismissed easily, before excusing himself from the small group to check and realign the data with his log.

Brendan then proceeded to take his readings, explaining as he went to the loosely assembled students what was what and why this had to be done and the so forth and what not. The experience was rather deflating, simple writing of numbers in a logbook and the ranger muttering about shifts in the crust of several microns more than normal.

They were about halfway through and about fifty metres from the hut, when a beeping began to emit from the pager attached to Brendan's belt. Swearing colourfully under his breath, Brendan made a bizarre looking trot through and across the snow towards his hut. About halfway there he barked back at the confused group over a jacketed shoulder, "Plate activity has just increased by a small margin, I just need to check the seismic readings. It probably just resettling but I have to check it out."

Sean quietly lit a cigarette and offered the pack to any that wanted one. Travis took one as did Zack, who needless to remark didn't say thanks. Sean inhaled quietly before turning to Rei.

"Shall we agree I was right now or wait until the shit really hits?"

Abruptly a sound rolled up the mountain to reach their ears. A claxon.

"Noise," said Hugo, he head darting around as the echo bounced from rock to rock.

"Bad noise," said Sean, pointing towards the cabin the ranger had disappeared into.

Sure enough, a panicked Brendan emerged from the hut; ski's over his shoulder, fear clearly written on his face.

"Move now!" he screamed at them indicating a downward path frantically with his free arm. "This bitch looks fit ta pop!"

Those were words anybody on an active and unpredictable volcano would pay attention to. Hearing that the group quickly headed on a downward route. Fast.

Brendan called over his shoulder, "Sorry to leave on skis but I have to make sure that the top lifts and cafeteria's are cleared. Stick to the ridge line and you should be all right, just take cover should anything go past you."

"Go" screamed Travis, "We're under control."

A roar sounded. It was deep and throaty, like the war cry of Hell sounding deep in the bowels of the Earth. Ripping, tearing, like a pulled flesh wound, festering with a burning poison.

Travis, Rei, Hugo and Sean had abandoned bipedal transportation, as the snow got thicker and powdered and had taken to sliding on their daypacks. Items such as matches and sunscreen sparsely littered the snow as the ice tore through the canvas. The quartet were a disjointed group, sliding where the fall of snow guided.

Kristen and Zack had stopped as soon as the others had begun to crest the next ridge and were looking at the small machine. Its surface was polished black and its small screen flashed ominously even in the noonday sun.

Stopping and looking over his shoulder Sean yelled, "This is not a time to watch fucking TV or whatever the shit it is you're doing! Move!"

He didn't see the opening rip in front of him; tearing across the ridge like a suicidal mole; all he saw was black and all he heard was Rei screaming.

She saw it all, Sean screaming in an angry, almost frightened tone at the Americans, careening down slope on the tattered daypack beneath his thighs. The rock and ice opening like a demonic smile before him, dark and jagged, and the look of "oh shit" terror as Sean saw it and was swallowed alive.

Rei screamed and the monstrous deity of stone gulped its victim into its fiery gut.

He landed with a thump.

He wasn't dead either.

Opening his eyes, Sean was greeted by a wonder. Veins of living rock above and below, clear quartz and cloudy, muffling the earth's lifeblood to streams of pink and orange. Hunks of raw sulphur, the smell wafting through hidden fissures in the ceiling. He saw a wonder. A cave heated by a stream of molten rock and lit by the same. The heat was welcome to the cold that had clasped him when the alarms began to scream. Moss covered most of the cave, life in the most violent and tenuous of places. The black fungal growth and the rapidly melting snow from the cliff side had cushioned his fall.

He could see no sky.

He had been swallowed by a mountain. A dangerous mountain.

This was just too messed up, too Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for his liking.

Sean was sitting in a cave, obviously uncontaminated by human hands. Ancient. A cave, which had swallowed him up like a cheap treat. Sean's eyes darted quickly, pacing the beat of his heart, around the cathedral, sacrosanct to Mother Earth.

"At least I get to see some archaeology before I become a part of it," he mused.

That optimism Rei spoke so highly of almost seemed like sarcasm at this point.

Across the room, a glint, a something caught his eye.

A small metallic object was lodged in the cave wall, the quartz arteries of the earth forking around it, leaving it framed by liquid fire. About the size of the bottom of an aluminium can, it stood dull and untouched by the heat that seemed to build by the minute.

It winked in the fiery light.

Sean's mind screamed at him to leave it be, say his peace and buy the farm, maybe even feed some worms, but a constant stream of thoughts and warnings assaulted his consciousness, beckoning seductively that he pay attention to each and none other, all at the same time.

"It's not melted and we're in a volcano. Why am I -power- here, where no other human has -touch me- been? Why is the damn, -come to me-, thing winking at me, -I am you, you are me, we are us- no one ever by the looks of it. Good God it's almost like it's -become one- calling me, Christ! No, no, no, this feels bad -together- calling to me, it is bad, I gotta get out -me to you- calling -alone-gonna die, -us together- outta here, it's calling."

He had stood up and was edging, reluctantly closer and closer, his mind voicing stern protests, drowned out by this urge, that plea, call, whatever, to be, to touch. He reached his hand out.

He touched the metal. Sean recoiled and swore, his words heating the air more, the mystery having just got deeper. It was cold. The damn spooky thing was ice cold, like snow, like space. Burning cold.

Sean peered closer and saw his distorted portrait in the metal, his mind screaming out at him to back away. To. Just. Back. The. Fuck. Away. He ignored it as paranoia, pessimism, optimism. Didn't matter, he was a quarter pack now anyhow.

Paranoia erupted into full-blown fear as the metal exploded directly from the rock, magma like pus, oozing from the wound. Slowly like a predatory bullet, it grabbed him, coils like steel grasping his body and pulling him towards the burning core, winking conspiratorially. And like a hot spike into the condemned, it seared into his forehead.

Sean's screams of agony shattered the once peaceful cavern, the rocks melting as the veins shattered under the pressure of raw nature, purging itself in fury.

Swirling images and mosaics of blacks, whites and grey invaded his waking mind. So many questions but not enough answers. No answers at all.

Chapter Two

Birth

"Vessel cracked

Engage my greatest act

An opening seam

The arrival of a guest"

Subcircus - "Kill This Distraction, Kill Your Reaction" - The Witchblade OST

The first thing that Sean Barker felt upon awakening was a cold sweat, covering him like a mist, then a panic. Raging. Breathing heavily and flailing his limbs about, the smothering feeling left him, yet a tight grasp, warm and comforting, even in restraint, latched onto his wrists and ankles.

"Sean! Sean! Wake up, Sean!"

"Hwahgh" vocalised Sean, sitting bolt upright and slowly registering the fact that Rei had spoken, and that Travis held his wrists still, while Hugo held one ankle and nursed his eye with the other hand.

"I'm cool guys," said Sean, trying to make the simple offhand remark sound less forced than it felt. Sean had no idea were he was, and it bothered him that he couldn't even remember how he got here. Plus, he wasn't cool, he burned, fever like a sadist had rubbed deep heat all over him. "Sorry Hugo."

"No prob" said Hugo, cursing inaudibly, his mouth moving furiously, "I'm gonna go find some ice."

"Are you okay?" said Rei, directing the comment at Sean. Hugo threw his arms in the air and left.

"Um, that depends on okay as a definitive term," said Sean, his mouth dry and speaking a bit laboured, "first up, I really need a smoke, then I need to be told where I am and thirdly, and most importantly, in my eyes, I wish to know, exactly, what the fuck happened to me!?" The last was a bellow. He knew she was merely concerned but, hell, of course he wasn't alright. But something was lurching quietly about his subconscious, refuting that and singing off key. Sean banged the side of his head with the heel of his hand. A drip was feed into the wrist. Going to rip it out, a hammy fist halted him.

"First of all, you can have a smoke once Doctor Ropata has seen you. Second, you are in the Waiouru Army Base Hospital, and third, we don't know, they don't know, no one does. The rescue team found you lying in the snow halfway down Ruapehu. And lastly, calm down," replied Travis, slowly withdrawing his hand. His tone didn't allow any negotiation of the last, his fist still clenched.

"Indeed," seconded an unknown voice. The voice belonged to a muscular Maori man, decked out in a white lab coat and stethoscope. Casual dress trousers emerged below the hem, terminating in clean black shoes.

"Clichéd, but Dr. Ropata, I presume?" said Sean, overly uncomfortable with being in the metaphorical dark and being in hospital.

"Yes I am, and you, my lucky fellow, would be Sean Barker."

"You missed your calling, Doc. You should have been a detective."

"Is he usually like this?" the dark-skinned physician asked Rei and Travis.

Both nodded, almost reluctantly. "It's usually a bit worse but I'm not feeling that well," muttered Sean bitterly.

"Well then," continued the doctor, "you appear to be fine, apart from a slight case of exposure and those fresh puncture wounds on your back. Overall you appear fine but it is best to be cautious, especially in cases of possible head trauma, so we are going to keep you in for another two or so days to make sure everything is as it should be. The attitude, sadly, I can't fix."

Rei was grinning at the combined head trauma / attitude remark. Sean ignored the quiet giggling; something else had just registered.

"Wait a tick," said Sean, "what puncture wounds?"

"The wounds on either side of your spinal column, both approximately the size of a fifty cent coin. New wounds but strangely, while your clothing had blood stains in the area in question, the wounds themselves were fresh scar tissue, red raw in fact."

"Again, what puncture wounds? I never hurt my back or anything."

"I hate to break it to you Mr. Barker but there are fresh wounds, slash, freshly healed wounds on your back. I actually had photographs taken of them due to the fact that they were so uniform as to appear identical. That and the fact they are obviously recent yet maintain a strange reluctance to weep or extrude fluids of any kind."

Sean screwed his face up. Wounds on his back. He hadn't hurt himself and he couldn't feel any tight skin or pain. Taking control of himself, Sean said, his voice reluctant, "Let me see".

The doctor looked sheepish, before answering, "They are presently being developed." He wasn't off put by the man's mannerisms, the superstitious villagers in Guatemala could be much worse.

Sean began to mumble, effectively shutting off conversation.

Sensing his "audience" was at an end, the doctor called Travis aside and said "He may have a concussion as well so keep an eye on him and please don't let him get agitated." The last was almost an afterthought on the doctor's part.

"Sure thing, Doc," replied a worried Travis, omitting the fact it was obvious the student was agitated already.

Okay, officially speaking, Sean didn't like it one bit. Everyone had gone off to rest and he was here, alone. The cool moon shone down onto the cold floor of the hospital ward, its silver luminescence casting a ghostly pallor over everything. It didn't help he didn't like the sterile smell and feel of hospitals, but add to it the fact that his dreams...

He wasn't sure they were even his.

He had been dreaming. He couldn't remember the dream itself but when he awoke he was drenched in a sweat and his back burned. So now he was sitting on the side of the bed, gathering his wits. The sweat was cold on his thinly clad body. He shook himself.

Standing slowly to avoid inertia, he wandered slowly towards the bathroom. A nurse looked up at him questioningly, but seeing his direction dismissed it, as simply a man's pride, not wanting to use a bedpan.

Opening the door and removing the constricting hospital shirt, Sean looked at his stubbled and drawn face in the mirror. It actually seemed like he had aged in the short time that he had been out on that cursed mountain; and in this damn hospital. His eyes were sunken and his pupils dull and haunted.

An itch started at the base of his neck, his eyes lost in their reflective counterparts. The discomfort grew, so twisting and turning, Sean managed to see his back and the marks that the doctor had mentioned earlier. Almost gagging on his bile, Sean straightened his body and leaned over the sink.

They were angry red welts, raw and hot. Worse still was the fact that they had large septic cores. And they moved, throbbed.

Thinking about it, albeit unwittingly, Sean lost the contents of his bland and tasteless hospital lunch into the basin before him.

He reasoned quietly to himself that this was not normal. Sure he had a few abscesses when he was seventeen or so but he hadn't had any for years. And these bastards were the worst he had ever seen. Even the one that had dominated his lip for a week and had been nearly the size of a golf ball hadn't looked that bad. Sure it had stunk but damn.

Naturally, Sean, being human and curious, (as well as being mad, some would argue), reached his hand over his shoulder and tentatively poked one of the proturbences.

White flashes of agony ripped across his mind.

This was kind of familiar. He had seen this before. The familiarity was like a recurring fever dream or watching that cheesy Mortal Kombat movie stoned for the ninth time.

The sky was a fiery orange shrouded in dark grey cloud's scudding across like huge blimps, flaming like the Hindenburg.

Pods. Huge pods, with legs like spiders. Hundreds of them, landing like squat intergalactic toadstools. Cancerous and alien. Not of this earth. Definitely not terrestrial.

They were landing. Landing on mountains, hills, and plains and in the seas, the foaming black, boiling seas.

Mountains crumbling under the weight of the spider pods. Crushed to pebbles under the seismic tremors instigated in a demonic landing cycle.

The pods opening, hunched on their spindly legs. Carrying something, something's plural.

Spacecraft yet organic, smooth and veiny, grown, like galactic vegetables.

Glowing luminent beings descending the ramps, looking over the ravaged earth marred by their landing, the giant dinosaurs screaming in their death throes.

Humanoid beings yet apart and different. Unfathomable. Alien.

There is some life here. Plants and amphibians and the hulking reptilians, yet no humans. No mammals, no apes.

The aliens, for that is what they are, seem to be watching, learning.

The terrible lizards are here now, raging against the threat that fell from the sky.

Fear and wonder on the alien's part. Yet the lizards falter, dying as they struggle to live, to push along the path to their destiny.

They, these spacemen, are caretaking, nurturing something, what?

Mammals? Yes, but what? Monkeys? Not monkeys.

The forebears of man, steering our path.

Are these our Gods? Our Creators?

A new shape, still not a man, yet not an ape. More so. Less so.

Different.

Green this creature is, and like wild nature personified.

Wild yet with a consciousness, derived of purpose.

What drives this being?

The remaining terrible lizards are running, fleeing for their lives as the dust continues to spread.

The earth is shaking, birds lifting from trees, animals scurrying from the dust.

Hiding. The monkeys are hiding. Are they afraid?

The pods are closing. No wait! Don't leave! They take flight.

Blue fire, organic propulsion, up and away into the endless black sea of night.

Fire rains down. The sun is blocked by a shadow larger than the sky itself.

The earth screams as the dust rises. A transition.

Death.

Sitting bolt upright, Sean's ragged breathing echoed through the cool harsh world of the bathroom. Tears began to spring from his eyes. Reason's unknown. Just a base need, born of despair, abandonment and loneliness. A feeling of loss. Somehow he had fallen to the floor. Naked and cross-legged he cried like a lost child.

Morning dawned quicker than the blonde man would have liked. He felt like the world had kicked him in the ribs. After what he hoped was merely a fever induced vision created by bad blood, he had wandered back to his bed and fallen into an uneasy slumber. Yet through his otherwise peaceful dreams he had witnessed flashes of the images he had seen in the bathroom, disturbing and superimposed like strobe lighting over his other nocturnal meanderings.

He was kind of freaked out by the entire incident.

Shaking himself awake further, he grabbed the robe that hung beside his bed and shrugged it onto his shoulders. Almost blindly he rummaged through his pants, and satisfied in his find, he left the main building, a simple prefab structure, and sat himself down on a bench outside.

With the sun rising before him, Sean lit the cigarette in his fist and tried to rationalize something, all the while his conscious mind screaming and gibbering at him.

By afternoon he had almost dismissed the whole incident as a figment of delirium.

So, standing outside, cigarette on his lip, cheap dispenser machine coffee in his hand (the stuff always tasted like shit, as if by divine credo, no matter where he got it from. But it always had heaps of caffeine, so it marginally qualified as consumable), dressed in jeans, a thick cotton shirt and his boots, he looked and felt like a new man.

That is, if you forgot about the crap coffee.

Travis, along with the rest of the crew pulled up in the van supplied by the University. It was an off white colour with the blue emblem of the scholastic institution on both the driver's and front passenger doors. Hugo and Travis looked pleased to see their friend on his feet again, albeit that Hugo could only see out of one eye, and was grumbling about it. His oval shaped sunglasses did little to cover the bright purple and red shiner. Rei had a bright, unreadable expression on her angelic face, like she was thinking about something only she was privy too. Zack and Kristen simply looked put out. Sean ignored them, sitting slumped in the back of the van and slipped in next to Rei, who had opened the sliding door, and threw his cigarette butt out the door, before slamming it shut.

Greetings and other pleasantries where passed around while Travis outlined the changes that had to be made due to Sean's accident and the mountains unexpected 'hissy' fit, as he put it.

"Well team," he began, "seeing our friendly mountain has decided to show us its feminine side", at this both Hugo and Sean winced, as Rei gave the professor a nuclear irradiated stare, "we have time and funding to kill. My suggestion is taking some time out further up the island, maybe Rotorua?"

The three who where paying attention, declared their enthusiasm for this idea while Zack and Kristen seemed to be off in their own plane of existence. Rotorua was a large city located halfway between the desert and the Bay Of Plenty to the north. It was a volcanic wonderland, boiling mud, geysers and other geo-thermal activity making it a major tourist attraction.

Muttering under his breath, Travis promised to himself to have words with those two American students. Part of the expedition was to create a team dynamic, essential for any field work they would undertake as graduates, yet they remaining aloof and cold while his other students integrated and showed the signs of lasting friendship beginning. Travis turned the key and the van coughed to life. Slowing checking his surroundings, he manoeuvred the vehicle into the roadway and they began their trek north.

The two-hour road trip seemed to just fly past. Strangely the only scenery was the manufactured pine forest used for New Zealand's pulp and paper industry, occasionally interrupted by geo-thermal pipeline, massive tubes of white lying across the landscape like giant albino earthworms.

Sean had tried to drowse off, but the images from the bathroom floor played across his eyelids like some severely messed up projectionist had set up shop in his head. Giving up on that, and the embarrassment any nightmares might create, he contemplated the scenery.

Suddenly he was shaken from his musings as a warm hard mass landed just below his shoulder. Turning slowly he realised it was a head. Rei's head to be accurate. Sean looked down at her smooth face framed by her ebony tresses. Peace just seemed to radiate from her pale skin.

"You really should let her sleep." Hugo said, turning in the front passenger's seat to look at him, "She sat with you for most of the time at the hospital and only left when Travis threatened to flunk her. That didn't work so he added braining her to the mix."

Sean smiled. Somehow that caused him to feel very warm inside. It felt pleasant, but deeper, like contentment in his soul.

"Exactly," said Hugo turning back around and nudging Travis. Travis averted his eyes from the road to see Hugo wink at him.

Zack and Kristen were leaning against each other asleep in the rear of the van. Both were blissfully unaware that the strange device they had been looking at on the mountain was pulsing a furious red deep in Kristen's backpack. The sound was turned down, but the persistence of the alarm was testimony to something important.

Two hours always seems like a long time when your arm is asleep, thought Sean as the young woman he had been propping up, awoke when the momentum of the vehicle changed from going to not going.

Hugo had already swung himself out of the van and was stretching his arms behind his back in an attempt to work out the kinks.

Sean slid the heavy panel door open and nearly fell out of the van. Uprighting himself, he patted his pockets attempting to find his cigarettes. One magically appeared in front of him attached to two large fingers.

These fingers were in turn attached to Travis. In the downhill escape from Ruapehu's fury, his pipe had gotten wet. All attempts to dry it had so far proved in vain.

"Cheers," said Sean as he breathed in deeply.

"No problem," muttered the professor. Something was going on behind his eyes, something that was causing him trouble. And it wasn't just the injuries his charge has sustained while under his supervision.

After a moment of relaxed silence the Englishman spoke.

"Say Barker, you seem to pay attention, what is your take on those Yanks?"

"Fhhif" exhaled the blonde man sharply as he looked over his shoulder to see the two American's looking out over Lake Rotorua. Their vantage point in the parking lot of the Copthorne Resort gave a wide view of the lakeshore and city.

"That much, huh?" probed the professor.

"Well, Travis, it's not so much the fact they have only been in the class for a month, it's the attitude, the almost ethnocentric aloofness. Admittedly the rest of us have been together for some time now, even those who went to other locals for this trip, but those two haven't even made an effort to mesh."

"That they are better than we mere mortals. I've noticed it too. It's dangerous in a team to say the least." The recent actions of Ruapehu went unmentioned.

"I just said that, but your bluntness... "Sean protested to be met by a mocking smirk on his professor's face.

Sean just shook his head and waggled his middle finger under the Englishman's nose.

Late afternoon and the sun were brushing the sky a dull pink. Everybody had wandered off to make the most of the resort's facilities. Travis had expressed interest in the weight room, an almost complete gymnasium, while Hugo's interest lay in swimming a few laps of the Olympic sized pool. Rei had almost melted with ecstasy upon seeing the word 'sauna' and had disappeared soon after. Zack and Kristen had left to go shopping or something out in the city, not that anyone really cared. It had become obvious that both the opinions of Sean and Travis were shared by their Australian and Japanese comrades.

This left Sean alone and with nothing to do. Gritty was his main thought. A night in hospital and some scummy wounds on his back, answered his more immediate question. While he had showered before leaving, the lack of sleep and travel had added to a certain irritability. The offer to join Rei in the sauna had been tempting, a steam bath to work out his tension, but the though of unsightly and septic wounds had made him renege.

Sean made his way into the white bathroom, flicking the dial on the showerhead. Disrobing and stepping under the steady stream of warm water, Sean's body relaxed for the first time since the fever dream. His mind, slowly, almost reluctantly decided to follow.

Standing there, the blonde man let his worries wash away, simply loosing himself in the comforting cascade of water.

POP

"Huh", said Sean shaking himself awake. The water had lulled his senses.

Turning around, eyes closed and head back, Sean let the water run over his shoulders. Breathing deeply, at the sensation of his back, he almost gagged.

The smell was putrid. While Rotorua itself had a sulphuric smell all its own due to its many geysers, mud pools and vents, the nose adapted to those smells within the first thirty minutes of nasal contact. This was fresh.

Opening his eyes, Sean wished he hadn't. Up the back of the shower wall was a viscous trail of pus, blood and what looked like tar. His hand slammed against the wall, as nausea rocked him and Sean retched violently.

Coming awake this quickly and unpleasantly his body needed some time to catch up. Slowly, almost like a sinking feeling in his stomach, Sean could feel a lessening of tightness and a thicker quality to the water.

So those things on his shoulders had burst.

Good, he had had blood poisoning once and that was bad enough. Still the thought of infected blood turned his stomach.

Sean's face paled as he positioned his back under the flow and felt the water pucker the edges of the abscesses. Almost like he was thinking about it before acting, he tricked himself and pulled his arms across his chest, hoping the added strain pushed the remaining crap out of the wounds. He knew that this was disgusting, letting his body's pollutants out in the shower but panic overode his reason in an almost maniacal way. The stuff almost seemed to burn, and he was almost lost in a haze as too expel it. Sean grimaced in pain.

Fifteen minutes (and feeling a hell of a lot better) later, the blonde man stood in the bathroom, with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He had let the water rinse his back until he could see no gunk in the water, then he had washed himself thoroughly. The thought of that stuff made him shudder. Then he had clambered out of the shower, wrapped the towel around himself and boiled the jug. Rummaging about in the cabinet's he found a bottle of peroxide - another guest's leftovers. With this and the jug of hot water, he thoroughly washed out the shower stall. Then boiling the jug again, he poured the remaining contents of the peroxide bottle and all the hot water down the plughole.

Turning the dial once more, Sean loosened his towel and began the process again, the lump in his stomach beginning to lessen.

Finally, standing there, towelled once more and satisfied in a job well done, Sean finally managed to look at himself in the mirror. Pushing the compulsion to glance at his back aside, Sean grabbed his shaving gear from his toilet bag on the vanity and ran some warm water into the sink.

Halfway through his shaving, face covered in foam, a knock sounded on the door.

Sean muttered about timing and bellowed "Hold up!" his hand clasping his towel around him tighter, as he walked towards the door to his suite.

Rei looked up from the floor as he opened the door, blushed scarlet and looked down again.

"We were thinking about going out on the Lakeland Queen for the dinner cruise."

"Sweet, sounds like a goer." replied Sean. He always sounded like some adolescent when he used slang, but he had never broken the habit, despite the looks it got him.

"Okay, one hour at the front desk!"

"Sure," said Sean as Rei skipped off waving to him and humming to herself.

Sean shook his head at her overabundant happiness and went back into the bathroom to finish shaving, and to get ready for the night out. He again resisted the urge to look at his back.

If he had looked all he would have seen would have been two angry pink scars, looking like they had been there for years.

Under an hour later, Travis, Hugo and Sean, all done up in the best clothes they had, were standing in the main foyer. Travis had on a pair of dark green dress trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up; his hands buried deep in his pockets. His close cropped red hair, where he actually had any, clashed violently with his trousers.

Hugo had dressed in a black pair of trousers, white shirt and dark red leather vest. He leaned against the wall, scuffing one of his cowboy boots against the back of his other leg. His brown hair hung limply, attempting to get in his eyes.

Sean only had jeans with him, so he had picked out the least awful looking pair. A faded light blue with a light green coloured cotton shirt. His blonde hair was pushed back and looking slightly askew, which wasn't unusual. Under the shirt was a thick white cotton t-shirt, its neckline showing where his buttons were undone. Part fashion and part a measure of getting any more gunk that decided to leak out of him.

Muttering to himself, Travis was complaining semi-audibly about woman and their beautification rituals. Sean moved towards Hugo and asked, "Where are our American friends?"

"Oh, something about sightseeing, cos they haven't been here before or something."

"Oh."

"What man, you're pretty suspicious of those two, ain'tcha?"

"Yeah, I can't explain it; it's like a feeling, in my gut."

"Bad gas?" quipped the Australian. "But yeah, I know what you mean."

Sean retort was silenced on his lips as Rei entered the lobby. She was dressed in a Chinese style silk dress with a high collar and gold trimming. Her black hair was done up in a bun with those little chopstick things through its mass, holding her hair in place. She looked radiant.

All three men were quiet, Travis's complaints dead on his lips. Sean wondered why she had packed such a stunning dress on what was originally to be a geology field trip. Shaking aside the question, answering it, that woman were unfathomable, he was content to just take in her beauty.

"Come gentlemen," the young Japanese woman, said, smiling, obviously pleased at the reaction gained, "We have a dinner appointment."

The gentle lapping of the waves caressed the sides of the paddle steamer. Dinner was over and the sound of popular music drifted out from the main floor of the boat across the quiet expanse of Lake Rotorua.

Hugo had made his way over to a group of female tourists and was busy ingratiating himself, dancing (albeit spasmodically) with a beautiful blonde. Travis, shirt unbuttoned slightly had taken a position at the far end of the bar and was nursing a large bourbon. He had retired to his current position on a pretense of watching his students. The fact he was engaging in polite conversation with a stunning redhead was a happy coincidence. Both seemed content in their activities and Sean half smiled, turning back to the lake. Rei was linked arm and arm with him, looking out over the quiet lake.

The soft strains of 'With Arms Wide Open' by Creed, played gently in the background, the soulful lyrics almost hymn like.

"With arms wide open,

Under the sunlight,

Welcome to this place,

I'll show you love,

I'll show you everything,"

The moon shone down on the lake, a pale glow, suffusing the air. Sean was spellbound by the light on the water and beside it, the city illuminated by neon and tungsten. He didn't see Rei looking up at him, her face pale, angelic in the moon sheen, and smiling.

On shore, the American's had returned to the Copthorne. Having 'acquired' a laptop computer, the man completed a satellite uplink using what looked to be a cellular phone, ported to the printer line. The number on the cell's face was international, to somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere.

Blinking to motion, a video-chat interface crackled to life. A shrouded figure, dark and menacing seemed to pin the pair with his gaze, sitting before a dark background. Very little was shown in the view screen, yet the intensity of the image was unmistakable.

"Status report", the figure stated in a sephulric voice, one that would be more at home in a deep tomb or at the bottom of the ocean.

Kristen, being the senior officer, spoke first "Sir, we had a concentrated reading at the co-ordinates of thirty nine point four degrees South and one hundred seventy five point five degrees East. However some volcanic activity caused our signal to be lost and we have been unable to gather readings since."

"Well, then", the gravelling voice replied, "Perhaps in your incompetence you should have checked the device which has been blinking constantly for the last six hours." While another voice may have contained sarcasm, the thinly veiled threat spoke volumes.

With that, waves of white searing agony assaulted both the students, sending them weakly to their knees. The darkened figure smiled crookedly. His point had been made.

"I expect results in the next six hours or your bio-signatures will be erased."

The voice and its shrouded owner blinked off the uplink, leaving static in the viewer window.

Standing slowly, Zack grabbed the computer and slammed it angrily to the ground. The screen shattered and several keys bounced across the floor.

"Either way, we're fucking dead, Doctor!" He spat, cursing the figure who had unceremoniously made a do or die situation, undoubtedly terminal.

The two students left on the mainland had changed their clothing. Going from jeans and shirts, both now stood clad in black body suits with dull grey pads covering major muscle clusters. Chest, stomach, shoulders, knees and wrists were protected, terminating in sparing gloves of the same colour over their knuckles. The form fitting costumes were almost religious in their uniformity.

Kristen removed the device from the abandoned backpack and silently chided herself for letting her attention slip from her duties. Clipping the device to her belt and connecting a headphone jack stitched into her uniform, she then slipped the earpiece protruding from her high collar into place.

"Well?" Replied her surly companion.

"The signal appears to have followed us, or the volcanic activity may have sent it this way. Its possible it may be within the flow of magma." Even she had trouble with his short attitude occasionally.

"Where?"

"Almost two thirds out into the lake on a direct line between that wharf we passed on the way here this afternoon and the small island in the centre of the lake."

"Well then," Zack replied "its time to collect." The statement wasn't filled with optimism.

Sean never considered himself to be a good dancer. In fact he barely ever did unless drunk, in which case he was usually beyond caring. And that only happened at New Year's so he let it slide. Rei however would have none of his excuses and had forced him out onto the dance floor.

After attempting to look like he knew what he was doing, and getting large grins from Hugo and Travis, Sean merely accepted his fate and plotted revenge on the Australian who was laughing at him. He took it as some consolation he was apparently better at dancing than Hugo. Maybe lives would be spared.

Forms, half submerged, dark, arose from the still waters and glanced towards the flickering gaiety that was the Lakeland Queen and slowly like a primordial predator descended again.

Having managed to slip away to go to the bathroom, Sean detoured on the way back to the dance floor and found himself out on the deck looking at the stars. Lighting a cigarette he had taken from his pocket, he dragged deeply. Coughing harshly, he looked confused at the cigarette. It was a brand he didn't usually buy, yet it was one that was at the lower end of the tobacco spectrum. Just above menthol for the record, about as mild as he could get. He shook his head and tried again. This time, as well as coughing, the wounds on his back throbbed. Dry retching, Sean flicked the almost complete cigarette overboard. It surprised him. All day, no matter how mild, his body had rejected the nicotine he craved. He shrugged and leaned his elbows on the railing. Maybe he was coming down with something.

The forms emerged from the black waters once more. Twenty metres to their target and only one human on the outer deck, designated male by its stature and build. A second humanoid was approaching, female by its size and motion.

Rei stopped next to Sean. She looked at him sidelong, worried. He had been distant since they had collected him at the hospital. She had seen him sleeping, turning and muttering as the sweat beaded his brow. Something was disturbing him. She was half minded to ask him, the other to let him tell her when he was ready.

"So, whatcha doin?" she asked going with noncommittal banter.

"Just getting a bit of fresh air."

"So is that the politically correct term for it now?" she barbed.

"You will be pleased to note, it tasted like shit, so it's out in the lake."

"So you also know what shit tastes like?"

Sean laughed heartily at the girl's comments. She surprised him, pleasantly. He wouldn't have expected such a ballsy comment.

"Uhh"-said Sean slumping slightly against the rail, his shoulder had throbbed tightly. It felt like it was going to pull his shoulderblade off.

Rei, immediately concerned, placed her hand on his cheek "Sean?"

"Nothing just a twinge on my back where that Doc said I got hurt."

"Do you want to go sit down inside?"

"No," replied Sean gently taking Rei's hand from his cheek and enveloping it in his own, "but I do want to thank you for being there for me at the hospital."

Alongside the boat below the humanoids, the figures could see that they had each other's hands grasped. Slowly, methodically, the forms began to scale the side of the boat. The wet wood was tight with tar and quietly they began to climb. A creak sounded as a patch of older wood was disturbed.

"What was that?" squeaked the smaller form. Her face had been looking deeply at the man's and the noise had broken some moment about to take place.

"Beat's me," said the larger form, looking rather annoyed at the break in mood and it peered over the side of the boat into the watery gloom.

The foremost form recognized it and grabbed its collar, pulling him over the railing and into the lake.

They stood there looking deep into each other's eyes, time almost frozen. Sean felt confused more than anything. He was twenty five and she was nineteen, yet something was going on between them, and just as Sean was looking for a reason to pull away, confusion and honour overriding attraction, Rei spoke.

"What was that?"

"Beat's me," said Sean looking over the railing. Seeing a face there was unexpected. Much less a face he recognized. The person scaling the side of the boat was a little much to take in.

"Za..." he started to say as a hand grabbed his collar and pulled him with an inhuman strength.

The next thing Sean knew he was in the cold lake.

Chapter Three

Changes

"The subculture of my dreams

Is waiting for me to fall asleep

I know you're scared, you should be

I know you're scared"

Live - "Heropyschodreamer" – Secret Samadhi

The calm moonlit night was shattered as Rei screamed, watching as Sean was pulled bodily over the railing of the Lakeland Queen.

A hard splash was heard as Sean's body hit the water like a stone, landing on his back. The impact stunned him, the bitter cold shocking him. His mind raced. His body still hadn't recovered fully from his exposure and the incident in the shower. He slowly began to struggle but his limbs failed to respond. He felt weak and listless.

He was drowning.

Zack and Kristen pulled themselves over the railing to stand before a startled and horrified Rei.

Kristen dropped a waterproof sack at her feet and looked at the slight Asian girl.

Stuttering in shock, Rei managed to say "Sean, what, what did you do to him?"

Kristen casually took several steps forward and backhanded the girl, sending her spinning into the nearest wall. Rei unceremoniously slumped to the deck in a heap.

Zack looked sidelong at his partner quizzically. Normally she was composed and collected. She usually left the petty violence to him.

"Uppity bitch always got on my nerves," replied Kristen. Zack conceded by nodding his head slowly. She was a bitch. Viciously poking Rei with his foot to make sure she wasn't faking it, Zack began moving towards the main deck, Kristen following, their automatic submachine pistols removed from the damp sack and clutched eagerly in their hands.

Again the lake felt the presence of an unwanted visitor. This visitor was not happy. It fact it was severely pissed off. Angry at a metabolic level to be precise. The water bubbled as if boiling, like a hot rock was just under its surface.

Submachine fire rang across the lake like a clarion as Zack and Kristen discharged their weapons from opposite sides of the dance floor. Controlled they had flanked the main exits and hemmed the partygoers into the main hall.

Silence descended like a curtain, one woman began to whimper. Zack pointed his gun at her and cocked the trigger noisily, waggling his finger in a tut-tut-tut motion across her face.

The woman shut her mouth with an audible click.

Travis, who had been slowly fogging his mind with drink, enjoying a rare chance to cut loose, was not sober several minutes ago. Now, after all his efforts and the fact it was his students holding up a boat of partygoers for a currently undisclosed reason, was enough to annoy him and bring him unwillingly back to sobriety.

"What the hell is the meaning of this!" he bellowed, directing his angry gaze at the boy. Zack snarled and made a step towards the professor. He was cut short by his partner's response.

"Pipe down you pompous old windbag, or you can spend the evening holding your guts in." replied Kristen, gun rested easily in one very aware hand, the other holding a wickedly curved and serrated knife.

There was a delayed silence, several seconds reaching out in what seemed an eternity before it was broken. "What do you want", asked the captain of the steamer.

"Simple," replied Kristen, "The Unit. If we get it, we leave, minimum of casualties."

An evil sneer spread across Zack's face at that. Travis caught the bloodlust in his eyes and shuddered. Hugo, who was standing in the middle of the throng and looking at the American, didn't like their chances after seeing that. Thinking back, maybe he should have let Sean kick the crap out of him on the mountain.

While the passengers discussed this amongst themselves, Zack pulled another gun from a holster, standing in a John Woo-esque style, both guns held sidelong, barrels moving like dead eyes over the crowd.

Kristen had left the hall and returned quickly, a limp Rei under her arm, the sack in the other hand. Tossing the prone form of the girl on the ground, both Hugo and Travis made their way to her. Hugo knelt beside her as Travis loomed over them. The girl was unconscious and had a nasty bump on her head. Hugo looked up at Travis and gave him a reluctant thumbs-up.

Kristen bolted the door she had just returned through with a length of some sort of chain and moved to stand with Zack by the other, which covered by his twin guns, she bolted as well.

Zack motioned them all to their knees with his gun barrels and looked questioningly at his partner. She simply nodded. He had simple pleasures and these people knew too much now anyway. The two guns clattered to the deck as the man began to seize.

Zack stood, his shoulders shaking and rolling, his face contorted in a horrid rictus, a deviant smile. His shoulders bulged and his uniform began to split, the material tearing easily for a fabric that looked so sturdy. His ears pulled themselves back up his head, the skin stretching like latex and molding as his features tightened. His boots and gloves split open to reveal black claws and wiry hair sprung from the rips in his pristine uniform. Then in what seemed like a final push from within his body, like the birth of a demon, a large hulking Cro-Magnon monstrosity with a bat like face stood in the place of the arrogant American student.

The passengers all shrank back but no one said anything. A collective gasp was about it. And that woman started whimpering again.

The creature then laughed, a gurgling noise deep in its throat that sounded like a death rattle.

The whimpering woman found her voice and opened her mouth to scream but was stopped with her mouth wide open as Kristen placed the barrel of her pistol in it. The woman looked to her pleading, but Kristen just shrugged and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains rained down on the audience. Silence, apart from the thud of a woman falling to the deck, fainted and the blood falling like misty rain.

Travis was now sure that whatever the hell was going on, it was a one way dinner trip they had landed themselves on. The cold in the girl's eyes that he had noted was now burning forth. There wasn't going to be any mercy here and one false move would mean a painful death.

"Well Ramotith, ask away," she said to the once-Zack, who licked his lips as the blood slowly pooled on the deck of the ship.

"Where is The Unit?" the monster said. More like a statement than a question.

No one said a word. It was either speak and be marked as apart or remain silent and have a chance.

Ramotith grabbed a young tourist, by the head. "Again I ask, where is The Unit."

"We have no idea what you are talking about... sir." said the Captain as the ape-thing glared at him. It was his boat; his rules and these people were violating it. Plus it looked more people were going to die unless someone stood up.

"Wrong answer" said Kristen as the beast crushed the boy's head like it was an overripe tomato.

The captain fell to his knees.

Out in the lake the intruder had seemed to sense some sort of disturbance. It felt that the thing that had angered it was responsible. If not, it would be interesting to see what could create such panic and raise anger in itself. The intruder moved off in the direction that it felt its rage lead at high speed, cutting through the water like a torpedo.

"God dammit, we don't know what the fuck it is you want!" screamed Hugo, anger making the lanky young man brave. The two headless bodies had shocked him to anger, Travis at his side, fists clenched.

Ramotith went to grab the young man, but a wave from Kristen put him back in line.

She activated the device. "Odd" she thought, then turned to Ramotith, "It was here and know it's not. The humans aren't lying," she said, "Its not here."

The beast Zack let out a bellow of rage.

"Calm down Ramotith, you will get..." She was cut short as a beeping noise pulsed rapidly from the device she held. She pulled the device off her belt to check the readout more thoroughly. A small green dot was converging rapidly on the central crosshairs. So the beta technology was a success after all.

"Head's up handsome," she said to Ramotith, "It's heading our way."

The device began to whine steadily and Kristen shut it off, sliding it back into her belt as she looked about the room slowly. "It's outside."

Ramotith lumbered towards the door. A pattering was heard as a red shape went past the windows at high speed. The monster quickly broke the chains, opened the doors and looked out.

"Nothing there," it gurgled as it turned to Kristen. She was staring at the far doors.

They hung off their hinges, shattered like matchwood. In the opening stood a figure. Sleek and streamlined, muscles well defined in what looked like armour plating. A large fin protruded from the top of its head, with a smaller fin on either side. Set between each spike was a glowing silvery orb set into the head, with another central globus on the forehead like a third eye. A smaller orb about quarter the size sat above it. Each shoulder had three small spikes; each forearm had a larger protrubance, like the dorsal fins of an ocean predator. The creature was a dull red, with orange and pink patches where the armour joined. Its eyes glowed a pale blue.

The central orb flashed menacingly. The figure was imposing, standing nearly seven feet tall with the fin on its head and its muscles bunched in a battle ready pose, staring straight at the beast and its mistress.

"Damn, it's been activated!" said Kristen

"Fuck." cursed Ramotith

Steam vented from two ridged holes on either side of the figure's head where the mouth should have been.

The creature looked to Travis. Its gaze burned into Travis's. "Get or take them out of here." Travis said as he roused the shocked Hugo. The Australian complied, ushering the passengers out behind the red man with the help of the Captain. Travis bent down, picked up the limp form of Rei and slowly backed out the doors.

The ape-beast and the fin-man just stood there, staring each other down.

"Shit," the girl said, "it's Barker, I should have clicked earlier, we threw him overboard and them this thing shows up. It all fits; he must have activated the Unit on the mountain."

"Well," gurgled the beast "he obviously doesn't know how to control the Unit, being newborn, so I can take him."

"Idiot!" the girl snapped "Haven't you read the files, the armour is semi-sentient itself!" Disjointedly, she fumbled with her belt.

"So."

And with that both the beast and the red figure charged.

The girl just stood there. The shit had hit the fan.

As the figure and the beast collided, the beast let off a massive haymaker, catching the figure in the midsection and throwing him out the windows surrounding the dance floor and into the railing on the edge of the steamer. The wood and steel creaked under the torment but held up.

The passengers, who had huddled outside, fled to the far end of the boat.

The figure stood up shaking its head, more for the dramatic than any real reason. Standing, arms at its sides, it's flexed its shoulders. Two blades extended from the larger protrubances on its arms, the one on its left arm extending back towards the shoulder, the right, downwards, towards the deck. The blades seemed to hum, with a faint light shimmering on their surface. The figure stood, its blue eyes seeming to stare down the monster.

Ramotith made a come-hither motion with its clawed hand.

The figure assumed a stance reminiscent of a swordsman with a shield and charged.

Travis watched from the relative safety of the far end of the boat. The action was blurred through all the glass. Rei shook in his arms.

He looked down at her face, Hugo peering over his shoulder, concern evident.

"Rei?" asked Hugo

"Sean got thrown overboard," she said quietly, tears beginning to creep down her cheeks.

"Let's just hope the boy is okay." muttered Travis.

Glancing back towards the main deck, he noticed the figure of Kristen slowly shaking.

"Look out!" he yelled.

The armoured man collided with the beast, which made a retaliatory swipe with its claw at the figure's head. Raising his left arm and its accompanying shield blade to block the hand, the edge sliced through the beast's forearm, leaving a fountaining stump.

Screaming in rage, Ramotith kicked the legs out from under his opponent, who hit the deck with a muffled crash. Jump rising from a half crouch, the figure head butted the ape-thing in the chest, grazing its hide with the sharper side fins. Screaming the beast kneed the figure in the stomach, grabbed his back and threw him against a wall.

Standing the figure's eyes flashed, the left blade retracted and it charged with its right blade extended like a spear.

Kristen had stood there the whole time. Escape had crossed her mind but her superiors would kill her for leaving without the Unit. Ramotith was in trouble, and he was stronger than her. Either way she was dead. "Damn" she thought. "Might as well get this over with."

She was unsure who to be more scared off, the Unit or her superiors.

Beginning to shake, she initiated the change.

At the cry from Travis, one of the silvery orbs mounted on the figure's crown slid back, like a sensitive ear perking at an inaudible sound.

Moving with a speed only dreamt of by human combatants, the once-was-Kristen ran at the back of the figure. Ramotith had the arm with the blade caught by this one remaining hand and it was purely a battle of strength, as the red warrior pushed his blade towards the creature.

The figure quickly registered the new threat, planted its feet and swung its left arm back elbow first. The elbow caught its attacker in the midriff, where upon contact with its hide the figure extended the left arm blade, humming muffled as it bit into vital flesh.

The impaled beast stared in horror at the vibrating sword sticking in her stomach. The finned assailant shook her off and she fell backwards, her talons cupping her stomach.

Planting its feet and using its right arm and blade as a lever, the red figure hurled the ape beast over its head and onto the floorboards of the deck across the room, which splintered and buckled but help under the enormous pressure.

The red figure turned to face its foes, both prostrate. Looking down before itself, the bladed warrior saw its second attacker, a chameleon like monster with spikes on its head. Large bulging eyes looked up from the scaled face. Taking several slow steps forward the figure placed its armoured foot on one of the chameleon's knees and pushed down. The monster screamed as its knee was crushed to pulp.

"Rocies!" screamed the ape, lurching angrily to its feet. Dazed, it stumbled before righting itself.

Turning to the ape, once more the figure stepped forward, off the knee of Rocies and advanced towards Ramotith.

Rocies launched itself headfirst at the small of the figure's back, using its wiry arms as propulsion.

Ramotith charged.

Meeting both attacks like part of a well choreographed dance, the figure spun around and swung its right arm blade in a downward arc slicing Rocies head in half like a melon, as it raised a leg to connect with Ramotith jaw in a powerful heel kick.

Ramotith staggered upright staring in horrified rage as his partner bubbled and dissolved into the stained wood of the steamer's deck.

Again charging, unconcerned with the consequences, the ape-beast bellowed his fury.

Standing posed and unconcerned, the figure reached up to his chestplate. Grasping one side, it peeled it back to reveal a glowing sphere of energy crackling with azure power.

The monster saw this and lost its nerve, trying desperately to stop its dash. Sliding across the blood slick deck, the beast met the released energy beam like an asteroid does the sun.

"Shit!" yelled Travis

Everybody had begun leaping off the boat when the chest cavity had opened. The Captain had just about suffered a heart attack, then bellowed about the fact the figure was directly facing the furnace, and the ships fuel store.

Travis and the Captain were the last to leap overboard as the ship erupted into a blinding conflagration.

He awoke. His head hurt like hell. And his mouth tasted like sand.

He pulled himself up tentatively and realized that dawn was creeping slowly over the ranges to the east. He was on the shore of the lake. It was pretty much a blur as to why but suddenly he could remember seeing Zack's face and being thrown overboard, but only after he heard Rei scream. He must have blacked out after slamming into the chill lake.

Not surprising, his body was stiff.

Standing unsteadily, Sean looked down the lakeshore. The wharf the steamer had left from last night was about a kilometre away. A walk would loosen up his limbs anyway.

Reaching towards his shirt pocket, Sean grabbed his cigarettes. The soggy mass crumbled in his hand and landed in the sand with a plursh. "Oh well," he thought, "they taste worse everyday so maybe I should quit."

Looking back towards the wharf he noticed something wrong through the early morning brain fog. No boat. Looking out into the lake, he could see a smoking hull, burnt to the waterline.

"Fuck!" he cursed and left at a run towards the wharf.

Panting heavily, not being used to running Sean entered the foyer of the Copthorne. Ignoring the startled staff he made his way quickly to his suite.

Throwing the door open, he was shocked to see Rei packing his belongings, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn't heard the door.

"Rei?" he asked, confusion and concern in his voice.

She turned. Seeing him she screamed out and ran at him, burying her head in this chest and weeping loudly.

Travis and Hugo pounded down the corridor upon hearing Rei scream. Turning into the room they were stopped short by seeing their supposedly dead friend.

"And that dear boy is what happened." finished Travis.

Sean just sat there. Finally he said, "You're shittin me right?"

"No" replied his three companions together.

"And it was Zack and Kristen?" commented Sean.

"Uh huh" said Hugo.

"What did you tell the cops?" asked Sean.

"Nothing," replied the professor "the already said they knew it was a gas leak which caused the explosion. Most people were ready to believe that rather than the fact they saw monsters."

Sean put down his third cup of coffee. He had showered and eaten and now after three hours of discussion, had heard the events of last night retold from all three points of view. He had been right about the Americans, that they couldn't be trusted and where hiding something. It just turned out to be something monstrous.

An idea struck him.

"I'm gonna go look through there stuff. Obviously the cops assume them to have been caught in the explosion with the woman and man that they killed."

"Good idea," said Travis.

"Want some help?" asked Hugo.

"Nah, you guys get some rest, I've worried you enough already."

"But Sean you..." Rei didn't finish her statement before Sean had left.

Why had he done that? Flicked them off like that. They genuinely cared about him, something increasingly rare in the world they lived in.

He couldn't explain it, but he simply needed to do this alone. He felt compelled to do it alone.

Entering the suite they had shared, Sean saw the clothes they had arrived in yesterday strewn across the floor. Walking over to the backpack nearest him, he opened the pouches on the sides and top and ran his hands through them.

Nothing.

Opening the main part, he rummaged down through clothes. Feeling a hard case of some sort, he pulled it out, spilling clothing onto the floor. The case resembled a laptop computer. Expecting it to be what it looked like; Sean opened it to find two empty foam holders, which would by their definitive shape hold the guns the others had described nicely.

Moving to the other pack he noticed a laptop computer in a wastepaper basket. Its parts were hanging out the cracks in its casing. It looked like it had been smashed against the floor.

Opening the top of the second pack, he found a device similar to the one the pair had been looking at on the mountain. Turning it over, he saw a switch. He turned it on. It beeped at him, seemingly unimpressed.

"Signal has been activated Sir, and its readings indicate the proximity of a Guyver Unit."

"Excellent, patch into the co-ordinates, telecommunications, via all mediums of digital interface."

Sean was looking at the steadily beeping device, confusion written across his face. It looked like that dragon radar thing from Dragon Ball Z. It kept beeping at him though, as if accusing him of something, which was mildly disconcerting.

The television crackled to life.

Sean looked up to see a shrouded figure.

"Weird," muttered Sean.

"No it's not, merely the use of technology not presently available on the free market."

"Huh?" said Sean, looking at the floor and the scattered clothing, thinking he had stood on the remote control.

"Really? Do you think it possible you could vocalize in words of one syllable or more?"

"You talkin to me?" said Sean, still not up to speed with the televised conversationalist.

"You are the only one here besides myself are you not?"

"Errr yeah..."

"Excellent. Well, enough small talk. We want the Unit."

Now this got Sean thinking. Unit. The others had mentioned those monsters wanting some sort of unit. Now this guy as well.

Sean had to ask, "What are you talking about?"

"Come now. We know you have it, the readings indicate that you have activated it and obviously since both Ramotith and Rocies are no longer viable, you have used it."

"I don't know what the hell you're on about."

"The innocent routine is beginning to bore me, Mr. Barker."

"How the fuck do you know my name!" Sean, by this stage, was starting to get annoyed.

"Call it a gift. Give us the unit Guyver, it will be better off for all concerned if you did so."

"What the fuck is Guyver. And the only Unit around here is you TV-man, and it's a loose one at that."

"You are."

"This channel sucks." and with that Sean, fed up with the accusatory broadcast, unplugged the television.

The stereo across the room crackled to life.

"Really Guyver, you are no match for us."

Sean, who was now very confused and getting angrier by the sentence, looked at the device in his hand. He dropped it to the floor.

"Fuck you, Max Headroom. Coke did itself a number with you as spokesman."

The device was crushed easily under Sean's boot.

Retiring to his room, Sean took off his shirt and boots and lay down on the bed. Four words rang in his head - Guyver, Unit, Ramotith and Rocies. The conversation with the psychotic anchorman had upset Sean more than he liked. It had known his name. It had threatened him. These thoughts plaguing him, he slowly fell into a troubled sleep.

Snort.

Sean swatted at his face as he felt something on his nose. Opening his eyes and flapping his arms, the pressure released his nose. It was Rei.

"Well now that you are awake, we can eat and head off to Tarawera."

"Is it day already," asked Sean

"Yes it is Sleeping Beauty," said Hugo, who sat at Sean's table eating breakfast, "you've been out since lunch yesterday."

Sean sat up and scratched his head, making his hair stand up even more. He didn't see Rei glancing at him, a worried expression on her young face.

Walking to the table and sculling a glass of orange juice, Sean entered the bathroom and shut the door.

When steadily running water could be heard Hugo said to Rei "Don't worry he'll be fine. Everyone has nightmares now and then."

Mount Tarawera loomed above them. The shattered ragged scar was an angry red and used its nineteen-kilometre length to dominate the horizon. While the eruption in 1886 may have destroyed the pink and white terraces, its still drew tourists.

Standing looking at its foreboding presence and the evidence of its rampage over a century ago, the group felt humbled and small next to nature's raw fury.

Travis got their attention and they wandered over to join the tour group, loosely gathered by the main park office. Once everyone was assembled, the tour guide introduced herself as Kelly and proceeded to regale them with fact and history about the dormant volcano.

The professor and his students paid little attention, off in their own heads while the tourists lapped up the information like overeager children.

Away from the group, a plainly dressed older man spoke hurriedly into his cellular phone.

"Yes we came to intercept him to make sure he doesn't discover the nearby testing grounds and that the evidence given in the beta readings is supported."

Some comment from the other end of the phone made the man pale slightly.

"Indeed it appears to be active."

A short sentence was spoken, which resulted in the older man's head nodding.

"Yes sir, we will kill him and remove the medal before he can biomorph."

The next comment obviously worried the older man as he swallowed harshly and sweat began to bead on his forehead. His finger pulled at his shirt collar, loosening it.

"Yes sir. Gregole out"

The trek up the crater wall was a well-mapped out course that had been followed by tourists since before the Second World War. Sean was only half listening to the tour guide. He had liked geography at school so he had paid attention, and being taught in New Zealand they had covered Tarawera and its history.

The tour guide signalled a halt as they drew to a good vantage point and she indicated that the mountains of Ruapehu, Ngaruahoe and Tongariro could be seen in the distance.

Sean looked off in that direction only half interested, still obsessing about the events in the American's suite yesterday. That and he had had enough of Ruapehu to last some time.

"Excuse me," a hand tapped his shoulder.

Turning around, Sean's throat was grabbed by a scaled monstrosity, the bastard child of a rhinoceros and the Incredible Hulk. Behind Sean's antagonist stood a creature who looked like the monster his friends had described Kristen changing to, except this one looked like a frilled lizard from Australia, horned ridges all over its head, and another, some sort of half-breed lobster-armadillo cross.

"Ckrrraph!" choked Sean.

At his outburst, the guide turned around and screamed. No way was she paid enough for this sort of shit. She jumped off the trail and slid down the scree slope. Most of the tourist party followed suit. Travis, Hugo and Rei however were backed slowly down the trail by the frilled lizard-man.

"Bit far from home? Ay mate?" said Hugo

The creature half-heartedly swung at his head. His orders were to terrorize these three not hurt them. That sucked in his opinion, yet the Lords had decreed that any activity must have terrestrial reasoning, cause and effect, like a natural gas leak causing hallucinations.

Maybe a tramping accident resulting in a fall, he mused...

Sean's world seemed to slow down. Everything went cloudy at the edges as his throat contracted under the pressure being administered by the rhino man. Sean felt detached.

Suddenly he felt another presence. A will not his own yet buried deep in his mind, asleep. Sean being half out of it couldn't really contemplate it as the separate will begin to fight for it's, his - their very survival.

Sean could feel it now, like under Ruapehu, the violation both mentally and physically, yet it passed, becoming a sense of oneness with the alien sentience. Curlers and trails of pink and maroon lightening raced through his veins as the exo-skeletal form of the parasitic being meshed to his skin, enveloping him in a shield of bio kinetic power, pushing away all impediments to its awakening.

The rhino screamed as his arm was seared off at the elbow and a half of his chest was vaporized in the powerful backlash of kinesis.

Travis's jaw slackened and he pointed to Sean. "Look!"

His awestruck tone broached no argument from his students or the monster that herded them as they all turned to see Sean being engulfed in a searing light.

When the light faded, the figure from the boat stood over the crippled and bleeding form of the rhino man.

"Giles! Gregole" screamed the armadillo hybrid. "Attack."

A powerful frog jump from the lizard man, Giles, sent him into the back of the armoured figure, both of them tumbling down into a heap.

The rhino man staggeringly got to his feet, his chest wound leaking blood and his arm stump draped across the wound, holding his lung in. Snorting in rage he charged the grappling duo of the red figure and Giles.

The armoured being and Giles had each other in wrestling type grips, hands on shoulders and upper arms, each attempting to overpower the other. The silver head orbs on the fin-man flickered back in their cranial grooves. The red figure quickly released its hold on Giles and jumped straight up. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion on his adversary's part, the figure performed a half spin, placed his hand on the top of Giles' head and travelled over. Mid leap, the figure placed his feet on the monster's shoulderblades pushing forward with a powerful locking of its knee's.

The Giles monster went horn first through the wound inflicted on Gregole, who looking shocked and confused, falling to earth, a gaping hole in his chest. Dead, as his flesh began to melt, horror transfixed in his bestial eyes.

Before the Giles could wipe the restricting viscera from his eyes the finned warrior placed it in a headlock and with the other hand grabbed it's horn. The popping of vertebrae was audible as the figure pulled the head off the lizard beast.

The one further up the slope growled under its breath. Lobster-man.

"Guyver!" it bellowed, "I am Delcasse, know my name for it shall be your death."

The monster then opened its claws revealing small spheres similar to the ones the group had witnessed the figure use on the Lakeland Queen two nights previous, the swirling balls refracting light onto its talonesque claws.

Hugo, Travis and Rei all dropped to the ground and covered their heads with their arms.

Sean watched on from inside his head in horrified disbelief as he, they, it waded through these creatures like they were nothing.

Travis poked his head up. The monster was still charging his weapons and seemed to be fully concentrating on this. The figure that was Sean stood there intently, seemingly undergoing some sort of mental battle.

Suddenly a pair of beams erupted from the small silver ball high on the figure's forehead, above the glittering third eye. Each hit one of the spheres of energy in the monster's claws, erupting the focused power like planetary meltdown.

Its forearms exploded as it screamed in agony. Falling to its knees the creature looked up to see the figure looking down at it, its motion almost too fast to comprehend.

"Curse you Guyver!" the monster hissed.

The figure grasped its face and squeezed.

The red armour disappeared like it was floodwaters receding, revealing a dazed Sean who slumped to his knees, the power having left him weak, confused and with many questions.

The trio climbed up off the rocks and walked towards their friend.

Hearing them, Sean looked up, a haunted look on his face, pain, fear and self-loathing combined. He was like a child, lost and scared in the night.

Reaching her hand out to him, Rei could sense his pain.

Shaking his head, pain in his blue eyes, Sean jumped off the track and slid down the slope.

Sean sat looking into the waterfall. He found the idea of a spirit living in it fascinating. Focusing on that allowed him to forget what he couldn't understand.

A hand gently placed itself on his shoulder.

He turned his tearstained face to see Rei, there beside him. Over her shoulder he could see Hugo and Travis.

"What, who, ...I'm sorry," said Sean. Even that much was a struggle.

Rei took him in a light embrace and placed his head against her shoulder, crying softly herself.

Sean was asleep. He had crashed out after they had arrived back at the resort. He had smoked nearly all of Travis' cigarettes in the van, normally a no go, but it seemed to help him calm down. The others had made idle chatter.

Now late at night, the three discussed what they knew, at least from witnessing it twice, if not from concrete proof.

"So Sean is this thing, erm, what did you hear them call it Travis?"

"Guyver." said Travis bluntly. Something here troubled him.

Rei was silent.

"What can we do?" she said after a moment's hesitation, her words shaky but heartfelt.

"Be there for him I suppose," said Travis sipping his scotch, "and let him deal with it in his own time."

Nothing more was said about it. That was really all that they could do.

Rei stood before Sean's door. Check out was in thirty minutes time so she had been sent to wake him. She had stood out here for about another five. They had decided to let him sleep as long as possible all things considered. Finally collecting the courage to knock, she tapped the door lightly. It silently swung open.

He was not in the bed and the bathroom door was open. His bags were gone.

A small envelope sat on the dining room table.

Rei crossed quickly to it, her heart in her mouth. She opened the envelope.

It read:

Guys,

I have gone back to Auckland. I will probably see you at the University this afternoon. Will try and explain then. Even though I don't really understand this myself. I'm scared. Everything is so fucked up.

Sean.

Rei crushed the note in her hand and ran out of the room. He had avoided the issue entirely, making no mention of it. Rei was worried; this sort of thing couldn't just be brushed aside. Something was about to happen. Call it woman's intuition, or whatever, but it sat in her stomach like a lead ball.

Part Four

Home Is Where The Hurt Is

"I feel angry, I feel helpless

Want to change the world

I feel violent, I feel alone

Don't try and change my mind"

Creed - "One" - My Own Prison

He stepped off the bus, as it halted in the centre of Auckland City. Catching the early bus had been a good idea. He felt now that he couldn't deal with all the questions and understanding, especially after another dream tormented night.

Pulling his bag onto his shoulder, he set off towards his flat.

Luckily the walk wasn't far. The main bus depot in Central Auckland was also a terminal for the all inner city lines. Sean had only had to wait ten minutes before a bus going by his place left. The entire ride was consumed with fear about his unknown situation and what trouble it would cause him. So far each day had been on par and bogeyed, worse than the one before.

Sean looked up at the flat before him. It was a simple suburban house; rent split between three students who had all lived here for over a year. His flatmates, Raoul and Ellis, had won the money with him on their joint lottery ticket. They had decided to buy the place outright as flatmates. Sean had remained the only rent paying party in attendance, preferring to pay off his student loan in full, than have the debt over his head.

Unlocking the door and flinging his backpack onto the couch he bellowed, a silly grin moving across his face, "Lucy, I'm home!"

Neither Raoul nor Ellis answered.

Sean wandered down the hallway, banging on the wall "Ladies time to get up!"

Still no answer. The atmosphere was almost like the aftermath of a party, empty and hollow where noise and abundance had once reigned.

Opening the door to Ellis' room, he was greeted by the darkness and dust motes floating in the shafts of light punching through the curtains. Not there.

Raoul's room? An incense stick was burning. Well that meant they couldn't be far off, considering that Ellis had nearly kicked Raoul out when he set the couch on fire last year. The pair had made up quickly however.

Sean went into the bathroom and ran the shower.

Road trips always made him feel gritty. A hot shower and a change of clothes would be a good start to tackling a day that didn't seem to be giving up on Sean Barker. Then, possibly a good feed.

The bathroom door opened and Sean walked down the hall into his room.

Changed and refreshed, he wondered where the others were and yelled out to see if they were back yet. Sean scratched his head and wandered towards the main area of the house, but, walking out into the lounge, he still got no answer.

This was because his flatmates were in no position to answer. They were lying on the floor, dead, agony written in their staring vacant eyes. Sean's mouth dropped open in shock.

Beep.

Sean turned from the grisly sight and looked towards the sound. A device, similar to the one he had destroyed in Zack and Kristen's hotel suite, was sitting on the counter, like a malignant pimple.

The TV flicked on. The shrouded figure sat there mocking Sean with his laughter.

Sean fell to his knees, hands covering his ears.

Utter disbelief.

"Well Mr. Barker, do you believe me now?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" The blonde man wailed, tormented more in days than most would be in a lifetime.

"The unit, Mr. Barker, or should I call you Guyver?"

Sean sat there hunched over, panic and a rising disbelief, like nausea shattering his reason.

The mocking laughter of the figure rattled through his reality.

The television exploded as Sean's fist shattered the tube.

Sean, realising that his anger had escaped him, stared mutely at his bloody fist.

He crouched there shaking with anger and grief.

In the space of three days, Sean's life had been shattered. The fabric of logic and reality had been unravelled and placed in a tapestry of discord and chaos. Sean had been through mental illness before. His grasp on the reins must have slipped. There is no man in the television out to get him, there are no monsters, and he certainly didn't watch from the passenger seat of his mind as his body was enveloped in an armour sheathe and proceeded to destroy and brutally rip apart aforementioned monsters.

No. That didn't happen at all.

The mocking sarcasm in his mind tormented him like it was the irrefutable truth that the world had turned to shit.

None of this is real; it was all a bad dream. Yet opening his eyes, Sean saw the blood and the nightmare remained. He couldn't wake up.

Sean's rational psyche screamed at him, something was missing in this little phantasm.

The answer phone bleeped at him.

Sean fell onto his rear and pushed himself into a corner, whimpering that the voice was back for him, to strip his reality away some more.

Not a bad voice, but a good voice, yes, Mother.

"Sean could you please call me when you get back from down south. Your sister called..."

Almost automatic Sean placed his shaking finger on the fast forward key. The machine jumped and recited the date. Yesterday. His mind took down details in a detached fashion, like he was watching some detective show on his now seemingly possessed television. First up, the blood on the floor and walls hadn't congealed yet so the guys hadn't been dead long. Second was the fact that the message was still on the machine, meaning the guys had gotten home late from wherever they were. Third...

Sean was pulling on his boots and grabbing the keys to Ellis' motorcycle before he could think of a third reason.

The only thought in his head was of his parents. And how his day was just getting worse, and it hadn't even really started.

It couldn't be.

The same scene. Intensified. His mind screamed and gibbered at him. But one glance and his remaining shreds of reality fluttered away. He turned away the tears burning his eyes. Numbed and shaken, he moved to the telephone and dialled the number.

"Emergency Services. What service do you require, fire, police or medical?" The deep voice asked seemingly disinterested.

"Police," whispered Sean, trying to get to grips with this and to be as accurate as he could.

"Ah yes, Mr. Barker is it?" The voice was now full of contempt and malice.

"What?" This couldn't be happening. No, not at all.

"We want what you have." It appeared that it could be happening and would continue to, no matter how much Sean willed it wouldn't.

"Why are you doing this?" Sean rasped.

"Because we want the armour." Seemingly a simple request, yet coupled with the carnage and bloodshed, the answer was a given. Sean's rampaging thoughts didn't pick it up, but there was no way in hell these fuckers would get shit from him now.

Sean now moderately aware, re-hinged his sanity with a pumping mixture of endorphines and rage. Screaming down the phone at his tormenter "You think I wanted this? I don't want this! I don't even know what it is! Fuck you!"

"Deliver it to us Barker. The Devonport Ferry Terminal. Downtown Auckland. Ten o'clock this evening."

The phone clicked off.

Sean looked blankly at the receiver. His eye's unfocusing he ripped it from the wall and hurled it across the room.

The sun had set five hours ago, yet he had no rest, images flitting through his brain, the death he had witnessed today and the mayhem he had delivered yesterday rolling in his mind like a stormy sea.

He felt detached now, as if no pain could invade his bubble and if it had, it would have been devoured by his rage.

He stood, light blue jeans and dark grey turtleneck under a black trenchcoat. For some reason he had taken it from his father's closet. It seemed to be fitting, a dark shroud to honour the dead.

The town car pulled up slowly to the gates. Sean had climbed over between breaks in the traffic yet had seen no security. He felt a gnawing in his stomach, like things were too highly stacked against him, and all the trump cards kept ending up in his opponent's hand.

A well-built man, dark haired, emerged from the back of the car, his business suit well fitting over his muscular form. Sean felt the hair on his neck rise at the sight of the man. Something decidedly wrong hovered about him.

The figure stopped five metres from Sean's concealed form. It casually lit a cigarette and puffed on it lazily. It was a stand off.

"Do you plan to stare at me all evening Mr. Barker?"

"Depends if you put on a show or not." Sean jibbed; not growing anymore enthused with his situation as the time passed.

The figure chuckled and took another drag on its cigarette.

Sean stepped from the shadows. The figure stepped back slightly. Sean was not a pretty sight, his face drawn and haggard, his stubbled hair darkening his already impressive jawline.

"I hope we haven't upset you too much Mr. Barker, you look quite the worse for wear." No concern there, a mocking self-satisfaction maybe.

"Just ditch the bullshit and let's cut to the chase, eh? You want this thing and I want answers."

"Very well Mr. Barker, but you are in no position for negotiations. We require the unit and you have it. It's a simple matter of trade. Give it to us or we take it. Either way the outcome on your part is fatal, just at varying degrees."

"First though, I want to know why? Why all this stuff, why didn't you just get the damn thing yourselves, send those punk fuck-ups Zack and Kristen to play fetch?"

"Well, Mr. Barker, I really don't see that the whys and wherefores would have any relevance to you. It was simply a matter of wrong place, wrong time on your part."

"Fuck relevance, you pencil-necked bourgeois toady, my family and friends are dead! Dead by your hands!" The rage in Sean's voice startled the man, but it wasn't unexpected. People did tend to get upset when you killed off their loved ones.

"Sorry about that old chap," the suit said, "its just a standard business practice. Figures predict it's easy to deal with grieving people, and killing their families has a more pronounced effect than just killing friends. Although killing those two fags' gave me some measure of satisfaction." Another lazy drag on the cigarette.

Sean stood there taking this in. The figure said it coldly, like it was a daily occurrence. Simply like checking one's email or eating breakfast.

Sean heard the word, louder and louder in his head. The voice on television had called him it, as had those animal farm rejects up the slopes of Tarawera. The word echoed through his brain like a brushfire through tinder, fanned by the awakening of the other, deep in his senses.

- Guyver -

Intense, it blasted his mind, consumed his thoughts and coupled with the rage he had nurtured through his grief. Faster and faster it came, until it was but an audible hum in the ear of his mind.

- Guyver -

- GUYVER -

Sean simply gave in.

"Guy-ver!" he whispered, teeth clenched in fury.

White fire engulfed his body and rejuvenated his senses. Comfort surrounded him, granting him the focus he needed, fuelling his ravaged body with alien power.

"Did your precious number's predict THIS, you fucker!" screamed Sean.

The armour materialized as Sean made a downward punching motion, lightening fast, his right hand connecting with the man's chest in a sizzle as his vibrating blade cleaved the officious bastard in two, like a boiled chicken.

The man, staring down at the cut the had split him from crown to crotch, mumbled though the gushing blood and the haze of encroaching death, "No, that I didn't see coming."

Boneless, the man fell to the ground, both halves sliding hideously in the spilled offal.

Blood dripped from the right arm blade, catching the moonlight.

Looking at the rapidly dissolving body Sean was snapped from his position of silent contemplation by the squealing of tires.

"Oh no you don't, bitch!" he yelled at the driver, as the town car peeled out of the loading bay in a tight U-turn and headed back up the street.

Sean began to run, the desire for answers and vengeance fuelling his speed.

The gates just collapsed in a ruin of twisted wire and piping as he ran through them and after the speeding automobile, his armoured feet leaving small heel-toe prints in the asphalt.

He was amazed, he wasn't tired, when usually running a mere hundred metres left him winded and puffing like a bellows. Ahead of him, the dark car swerved into the main street and was lost in traffic.

"Damn" he hissed, stopping at the intersection, halfway into the thoroughfare, with car's braking to a stop, horns honking indignantly and heads popping out window's to stare at him.

Seeing the car turn off ahead of him to retrace back to its original course, Sean leapt over a passing station wagon and picked up his pace.

It had disappeared. Sean needed to find some vantage point and fast. The armour murmured in his mind, responding to the unvoiced mental command. It didn't understand the thoughts but it understood the need.

Sean found himself slowly rising, the feeling imprinting itself on his mind. Some fifty feet up, the sensation of rising faded and the weightless buoyancy of flight was achieved. "There!" He said, triumphant, and with the speed of neuro-transmission, the suit responded.

He had the bastard now. He was just ahead of him and pulling into a parking garage. Sean followed with his eyes and set down lightly on a rooftop with a clear view of the parking exit.

He chuckled quietly. This suit was an enigma. It was almost like an extension of his will, funnelling power to do what he wanted. Yet it raped him every time it awoke, soiling his mind with alien imagery. Unwanted but somehow almost addictive.

The driver exited the parking garage quietly, and quickly, glancing left and right but not up. He ran towards the imposing Sky Tower, its architectural pinnacle like a mountain amongst the skyscrapers. Sticking to well lit streets, the driver seemed edgy and paranoid, uncertain of his fate, however it ended up being delivered.

The figure on the rooftop, bounded nimbly building to building after him, intrigued and curious. The driver was prepared now for something. To attack would negate the element of surprise and move the game out of Sean's field of play. So he watched in detached study.

The figure entered the lobby of the casino, slowing its pace. It greeted the desk staff and said something to which the head guy nodded. The figure then went towards the elevators, his movement slowly betraying the fact his confidence was returning.

The red figure watched quietly through the glass roof, then jumping floor by floor up the building, it looked down the main hallways to see where the elevator stopped its ascent. And opened. Thirteenth floor. Ding.

The figure left the elevator, looked around furtively and ran toward a suite. Fumbling with the keys, and dropping them twice, he finally managed to open the door.

The red form of Sean Barker, moved quickly around the side of the building, hugging the parapet like a tightrope and with an almost supernatural quality, blended with the shadows.

The man had entered his suite. He looked quite shaken, which was in essence, because he was. The plan had been royally screwed by that bumbler Enzyme. Strange that all cases of integration with that type initiated tendencies ranging from sociopathic right down the line to retarded.

The plan had been to transform, startling the already shocked Barker, in his misery and grief, wait for him or the unit to activate itself, then rip the metal from his forehead. The top brass had assumed that Barker couldn't have formed a bond with the parasitic organism this quickly.

They had underestimated him.

Now, Enzyme was dead. And he had no way of getting the metal without being annihilated. They trained and breed them for loyalty. Stupidity was often, especially in the more combat orientated operatives, a side effect. He had managed to avoid that defect, part of what he was.

He took a quick swig from the decanter on the sideboard and opened the laptop. It immediately patched a satellite uplink to headquarters.

A shrouded form appeared. A very familiar shape. The dead voice carried well in the still night.

"Report Razell"

"Sir, the subject destroyed Enzyme and appears to have control of the bio boosting unit, at least to some extent. The subject was prepared and struck before an attack could be mounted."

The figure on the other end of the video link looked agitated. "Cursed Type 1 failure, with their damned bio-organic degradation." he said half to himself, then realising his subordinate was still present, continued. "It appears he has discovered the unit's capabilities. Do you have any more details that may be of use?"

"We performed the tactical elimination as planned and followed standard practice, fingering him for the crimes. But rather than attack directly, Enzyme insisted on the later meeting. He was destroyed before he was able to transform as planned and perform the extraction. The subject appeared to get annoyed with him and yelled prior to striking Enzyme in the chest and splitting him up the middle."

"What did the subject say?" The voice seemed interested in not only the Unit itself but also in its interaction with its human host. Razell shuddered subconsciously. It was said that the Lord before him had odd interests and pleasures, half-whispered rumours of diabolical genetic enhancements and dissection upon existing operatives that displeased him.

"I believe it was, and this is verbatim mind - predict this you fucker."

The shrouded figure chuckled. "It appears our Mr. Barker is a spitfire. Excellent. Maintain surveillance and proceed with the usual business strategy. Eliminate the remaining members of their expedition and notify the installation of any developments and have evidence gained shipped there immediately."

"Yes my Lord!"

The laptop switched off, the bluish glaze disappearing from the room.

The man, Razell, walked into the bathroom, shaking his head. The sound of running water was heard and the door closed.

He didn't notice the figure crouched outside his window, nor see the glass spark as the partially extended sword bit through it.

Razell exited the bathroom, robe on and towelling his hair dry. He was stringy man, thin and vulturish in appearance. His damp hair clung about his face like dead straw.

"Martini, old boy?" The voice was almost a whisper, punctuated by the sharp emission of steam.

Razell dropped the towel and stared in horror towards the armchair, that held two glowing blue pinpoints of light. Steam vented from below them with an ominous hiss.

"Guyver? Barker!"

"Top marks old boy, do you want that drink or not."

"What do you want?"

"Several million dollars, a big house and a white picket fence, but there are something's that we can only dream about. I would also like to spend time with family, but seen as you took that away from me, I'll settle for information and maybe your life."

"Well come and get it then," mouthed the man as the skin on his forearms erupted with razor sharp ridges, and his feet split into huge two toed claws. His forehead sprouted mandibles and feelers popped out of his mouth while his skin slipped off along with the robe. Now there was no backing down from the fight they both knew was coming.

Razell looked like a bug.

"Raid!" yelled Sean as his fist crunched into Razell's eye. Sean mercilessly pounded the creature with his fists and knees, launching his attack before the creature had fully morphed. The monster swung its claws raking then across Sean's armoured chest and face.

Stepping back out of range Sean grinned (although his opponent couldn't see it). Razell looked at the Guyver with his segmented eyes and readied himself to proceed.

"Shall we tango some more?" cracked Sean, sensing the fear streaming off the creature.

"UUURarrrgh" screamed Razell pouncing, connecting with Sean mid-level roundhouse kick and flying back to crash into the wall. Plaster cracked and a panel fell from the wall. White dust alighted over the monster's form, the flakes congealing in Razell's blood.

Sitting against the wall, Razell had his throat grabbed by a red armoured fist, his head slamming into the support stud. "Now care to talk," hissed the Guyver.

Razell spat.

"Now that's just impolite," said Sean, condescendingly as he smashed his armoured fist into the bug-monster's side.

This seemed to be the last straw for the bug who managed to spit away some ichor and form words out of his beaten face. "Listen whelp, you have no idea do you? Why they want the unit, what the armour is? That we are all as good as dead, so we might as well go quietly! Don't you know their power!"

"Tell me then sweetheart." commented Sean as he blocked a series of disjointed punches the insect threw at him.

"No, Guyver I don't think I will, you see, you may let me go, but my superiors won't. And I fear their powers more than I fear yours."

This was something Barker hadn't contemplated. "You want me to kill you?" He stood there.

"No," said the bug, "if I have a choice I want me to kill you!" Using this momentary lapse in defense Razell sunk its claws around the silver orb in Sean's forehead. Screaming in pain, Sean swung his right arm, blade distended, upward close to his body, slicing his assailant's arms off.

Staggering back the monster laughed at Sean. "Guyver," it croaked "you can't win! I'll die but there will be more. Hundreds upon thousands more!"

Moving in a closed lunged, Sean's blade sunk into the creature's chest up to his fist. Kicking the creature off and through the glass ranch slider and onto the balcony behind them, Sean could feel the glass raining down on his shoulders.

Razell, his bravado seeping away like so much blood, again said, "We - will beat you, Guyver!"

"Your main concern is landing, buttrag." Said Sean as he connected a massive haymaker to the monster's chin, sending it out and over the railing.

Watching silently as the dead husk descended to street level, Sean turned angrily and stepped over the frame of the sliding door. Where he had hoped for answers he had found only more questions.

Due to his physical makeup, a common trend with all his brethren, all of Razell that made it to street level was a few drops of blood. He had died as soon as Sean punched him, his jawbone stirring his brain, triggering the accelerated genetic decomposition. Several patches of ash wafted away on an errant breeze.

The red armoured figure stood in the shattered suite of the Sky Tower Hotel and Casino, murmuring to itself. "Guyver?" it mused. "Name kind of grows on you." then with more force, probing testing, like a child poking a wasp's nest with a stick. "Guyver!" The armour melted away.

Sean looked around the damaged room. Small manila folders full of files and the laptop computer seemed the only personal effects in the room. The files seemed almost empty and most likely would be from the picture the creature had painted; yet they intrigued Sean with the promise of knowledge. Slowly moving towards the sealed documents, the names on the folders became quite clear, one, Guyver - Capabilities, the other, Guyver - Known History.

"Excellent." said Sean grasping the folders and the computer, before moving towards the back window he had first entered. He tentatively recalled the armour, expecting to wake from the dream. Morbidly satisfied that it worked on some sort of mental or verbal command, he left through the window as security personnel and police officers kicked in the door.

"The remote terminal is being moved Sir. Labelling of the bio-signature indicates it is not one of our agents or hired operatives."

"Marvellous," replied the shrouded figure, "The small amount of information we have given him plus the history and background files may lead us to the other active units via his movements."

"Further orders, Sir?" The man wore a combat suit similar to that of both Kristen and Zack. His padding as a gold colour however, and he addressed the shrouded figure with less fear, but not a total absence of it. Being wary of anyone in the organization was smart, as was showing token, if not full gratification to its Lords.

"Continue monitoring. I want reports every six hours." The shrouded figure leaned back in its deeply recessed chair.

"Understood Sir."

For disclaimers and authors notes and such, please see Part 2

By Nicholas Clark (Warriorsong)