Chapter 2

"Oh god..." Harriet complained with a raspy voice and dry lips. His skull felt several sizes too small for his brain, and his eyes felt like they were seared and rendered from just opening them.

"Airman!" A woman yelled to his left, and brought a pair of hands to the side of where he was laying, a hospital bed he presumed.

"Alrighty, how are you?" The nurse asked, forcing open an eyelid and flashing a small light into each of his eyes, making him groan in discomfort.

"Like hell..." He placed a palm on his forehead, "Got a huge ass headache. Worse then a hangover."

The man didn't respond to his complaints as he rushed away from his side. It annoyed Harriet that he could say hello and then prod but not... Harriet opened his eyes further and noticed that another hospital bed was a bare meter away from where he lay. He was attached to more tubing then a beaker in a crack lab. Then he saw another, same as him, and another, another after that in congested rows of wounded.

"My god..." Harriet stared. "Hey, nurse! Airman! Whoever! What's happened?!" He yelled out as loud as he could.

A distressed and overworked looking lieutenant placed in his hands some pills and a glass of water. "Quiet, alright? People are trying to rest."

"What. Happened." Harriet demanded.

The man sighed, a mix between frustration and particularly staunch melancholy. "Don't worry about it alright? We'll give ya a check up in about an hour. If you're able, they'll tell you."

Harriet stopped himself from asking questions. Chewing on his chapped bottom in habit. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it... what in the Hell happened?'

"Isn't it obvious?"

The voice wrung from what he felt like every angle, making him turn his head wildly for its origin.

After several tense seconds, he sighed turning his head back and facing the ceiling once again.

"They lost." The voice said again, this time from a very recognizable degree. Harriet snapped his head forward and saw at the foot of his bed Kaennin, Fenrir. "I won." He smiled toothily at Harriet.

"Hey! Hey! He's here! He's here!" Harriet yelled at the top of his lungs.

Two attendees quickly ran to his bed, one's stethoscope clattering to the ground from his neck. "What's wrong?!"

Harriet blinked in disbelief, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He pointed at Kaennin, "That motherfucker!"

Kaennin's Cheshire smile only broadened when the personnel shook their heads and said, "Listen, you must've had a light dream. It startled you. Go back to sleep."

Harriet couldn't believe what he heard, "Are you retarded?" He looked back at the spot Kaennin was, seeing it was vacant. "What in the name of..." He mumbled.

[][][[[

Several hours prior.

"He disappeared!" The airman exclaimed, his weapon readied as his partner radioed in the disappearance. "He just disappeared!"

The barred cell, once formerly holding a prisoner, slid open wide as the door opened, one of the guards stated to the small task force outside, "We have a problem." Explaining the situation, Colonel Vasquez ordered half of the detail, maybe six or so men to head to command, checking rooms along the way for the man.

As the two guards opened the cell and began to investigate, a woman on the radio screamed, "GET OUT OF THERE! HES STILL IN THE CELL!"

It was bizarre, an airman at the door saw the prisoner snap the closest guard's neck and kicked the other unconscious, all in the span of what could be measured in eye blinks. As he readied his pistol, the man lifted a hand as he sped towards him.

His rounds were either caught or were redirected, none landing a mark at point blank range. His grip on his wrist carried an unearthly strength as he felt the bones lying in his vice snap and crush together, barely uttering a sound before a palm flew into his forehead, making him drop. The personnel near were far more prepared as he passed through the door, firing their weapons at him when they saw their comrade dropping to the floor.

Colonel Vasquez registered his telekinetic ability in an instant when no one managed to hit home. He was somehow nulling the bullets, and they needed to get the hell out. "Pull back! Leap frog! One must be firing at all ti-!"

Vasquez has only been shot once before, a bad trip in Cambodia. Got in her upper thigh. While she wasn't foreign to being injured, she yelled out in pain when she felt like she had been shot dozens of times, falling on her back.

Vasquez rasped an unholy sound as she, to her regret, tried to breathe. Everything hurt, but what felt like was being actively lit by a fire happened to be her left breast, chest area. She spotting the rest of the team, same shit as her but only a few were seen or heard breathing.

She spotted Kaennin walking by, trying her damndest to point her pistol, barely in hand, at the bastard.

Almost sensing it, he turned on a dime, snatching the pistol out of her weakened grip and looking down at the Colonel with what could be seen as uncertainty.

A moment later, the base's alarm sounded, blast doors closing at the end of the corridor. He didn't seem distraught over it, looking back at Vasquez.

Vasquez coughed up blood, painfully smiling. "Fuc-" coughing up more.

The passive face broke into a humored smile, tickled by attempted insult. He clicked the pistols safety on and off for a moment before he settled on the safety being off, and said. "I'll make this quick." His hand was placed over her mouth as he ripped open the left side of her ABUs. She then felt a sensation that can be accurately described as if a flaming coal was being dragged out of your lung and threw your chest.

Kaennin chuckled lightly, "Don't die. It is not a good day for it." Placing the flattened bullet in her hand.

[][][[[[

"How many people are moving on the blast door now?" General Hammond asked as he and his staff busied about the SGC gate room.

"SG fourteen and twenty are sown there fresh from a mission, some other security teams. Maybe around twenty or so." A Sergeant commented, looking at the monitor that had vision of Turkey. "SG one are prepping."

The camera showed Fenrir's attempt to telekinetically push the blast door back, only to be met with failure. It comforted the General knowing there was definitely a limit on that ability. Almost as a response to the sensation, he looked at the camera near him, jumping up and seemingly destroying it, being only left with a burst of static.

[][][][[[[]]]]]]]]][][] []

Vasquez's prone though still very much alive body moved lightly as Kaennin retrieved a blade from the small scabbard hidden under her left pants ankle. It was smaller then his middle most finger, but just barely and was two sided. The blade wasn't used fairly often, if at all, at least for living targets as it didn't show signs of being sharpened recently but carried a faint, fruity-sweet aroma.

Kaennin grimaced, taking the blade, striking the point in the center of his palm and dragging a wound open from the center to where his hand meets his wrist. Blood dripped, the man groaning lowly, repressing his pain to the best of his abilities, pulling the rubber covered cording out of the neck of the now destroyed monitoring device.

Slowly inserting the cord into the open wound, he hissed as he tried to connect it with a nerve bundle in the area. Feeling way, till he sighed in success, feeling a reprieve from the painful sensation and the sudden jolt of connection to the local network. While it was unconscious at some level, he instantly knew how primitive this form of control was.

He took another deep breath, closing his eyes and attempted to make contact. His nerves 'attuned' to the signal-current that it carried, feeling his mind wane and thin as if near sleep. It's quite difficult to describe what is seen and what is felt, as the line between the two were stretched to their breaking point. What he sought in this odd communion of flesh and machine was the access to control these doors, disrupt communication, and map way to the World-Gate, or anything that can hasten his departure.

He found three, smiling privately as the lights flickered off.

[][][]

"Status report, now!' Hammond commanded as he grasped the side of a nearby desk for some form of baring in the now dim base.

"Base lights are inactive, even emrg…" Red lighting filled the room, "Oh there we go. Seems that something is…" The airman's sight quickly snapped to the side as the blast doors slowly opened. "Holy shit! Cut off the computers connection! He can't get access topside!"

][][

"Damn…" Fenrir muttered, feeling the Metal-Minds sudden discontinuation. He actually enjoyed how of ease of access it was, due to how it actively sought certain words for passing, almost screaming them when he encountered such forms of 'encryption'.

Kaennin felt a weariness as he activated his Thorough-Field, the blast door in front of him slowly lifting up to his freedom, the corridor filling with a crimson tint. The group ahead of him carried forward two weapons that shone an odd, energetic light as they scanned the corridor he was in, passing harmlessly over him and they proceeded, completely oblivious of his presence.

This Field did not make him invisible, just ignored by the visible eye. Which made him hesitate moving forward, as electronic visions, or vision seen threw a filtered medium such as these monitoring devices ignore this affect, rendering him vulnerable to them. Which made his predicament worse, as he felt his endurance wane holding this Field, the 'muscles' he used long atrophied. If he had another week, his strength would undoubtedly return to their former strength, but now he must deal with his weakened form. Though, that was not a primary concern at this point.

"Hey... What's with the blood?"

At the mention of his trail, Fenrir snapped towards them, a strong strike into a neck that struck down one, followed by the quick, inexperienced fire from the pistol he retrieved at the others.

Two men managed to fire their respective weapons at him, one with a P90, the bullets visibly stopping short of reaching their target and falling to the floor, while the other, wielding a Transphase Eradication Rod (a passing theory on the prisoner's sudden invisibility), fired a bolt which grazed his mid-thigh, forcing a pained groan from Kaennin.

The airman made a quick calculation, using the stun to hold his radio and screamed as loud and clearly as possibly, "Get the Zats! Energy w-" Before being cut off with Fenrir's hand grasped his neck, fingers sinking into soft flesh till they met bone and crudely tearing out everything in front of his spinal column, his victim gurgling as he did so.

As the man fell to the floor, Fenrir rubbed the blood that had splattered on his face with his opposing forearm, flicking his red covered hand down to remove what liquid he could. 'Damn. This might be a problem.'

Energy weapons, to most of his experiences, had little to null mass, even if they did, he would fail to telekinetically halt such weapons based on plasma or proton-bursts. They would cut through him, unarmored, like a laser scalpel through freshly baked bread.

He hesitated to wonder what a 'Zat' was, and concluded to not be in the line of fire for it. He picked up one of the larger, block shaped slug weapons from the unconscious body of his recent victims, shifting through the rough, screamed thoughts of these weapons as he inspected it.

Several seconds as he twisted and turned the... P-90, he released the magazine before sliding it back in, hitting its end and pulling back at the bullet-latch. Any weapon right now is a good weapon, even if his knowledge of it now is only whispers and surface thoughts.

Kaennin held still in concentration, trying to regain his Thorough-Field but the effort caused him to start breathing unevenly. 'My body has betrayed me.' He cursed. His camouflage is now nonexistent, he was uncertain if it was due to the weapon or the strain.

He held the primitive weapon with greater deference, feeling that he will have to rely on iron as equally as guile.

[][[[[

"We got reports he's on level 26! SG fourteen: intercept him!" One of Hammond's staff ordered over the short-range.

"Pull them out! Stabilize the survivors!" Ordered another.

Those were the only ones among the white noise of orders General Hammond could pick out. He was secretly concerned that his 'guest' lied, more interested in heading to the surface. Not that he was relieved.

"Alrighty, we're heading up to back Fourteen." He heard O'Neil over the radio. "Got Zats and Staffs out of the wazoo, we'll get him."

Before Hammond could have a small reprieve from the chaos, the emergency lights turned off in the SGC, before he could bark an order, a holograpgric image of one of the Asgard appeared in front of the viewing port to the Stargate.

"General Hammond." It began, "I am Tyr, I have received your message, am in orbit and will send down a Combat Team to secure the prisoner."

At first shocked by the Asgard's sudden appearance, he was in not in a moment to complain. "Level 26 of this base!"

Tyr nodded, stopping the hologram.

[][[[[]

Kaennin strode down the hall, quickly ejecting the spent cartridge of the weapon and replacing it with another.

He had recently replaced the ammunition exchanged from taking it from the defeated or dead. He hoped he was close, but was certain he was, the world gate was close, its vibrations, its hum like melody was growing with every flight he descended. Not that the sense was entirely full proof, being able to be replicated by a Burn-Stone generator. For all he knew, he was only digging himself deeper into a nest of predators.

He approached an opening, quickly rushing past it, the slower reflexes of the base's guardians shooting an unfamiliar weapon that made an even stranger sound, smacking against the stair's wall.

That wasn't the worse part. Soon after, he heard a beam in, followed by the bellow of a combat-dedicated Asgard's voice demand, "Come forth! If you surrender, you will be unharmed, if not I am authorized to take you back to your den in pieces!"

Kaennin cursed under his breath, if he began to move another flight, they would open fire and possibly shoot him through the walls. "Are the Nungon gone?"

"They have retreated back." He bellowed. "Your massacre ends here!"

"Hardly a massacre..." Kaennin said to himself. "What are you called?!"

"I am Agen, a knight-lord of the Valkyries! We three shall deprive this universe of your cruelty!"

'Excellent, only three.' Kaennin threw a cylindrical grenade into the door way, a small jolt of energetic plasma slamming into through the wall and nearly hitting him as he ducked. "Cease fire!" Agen ordered, the grenade puffing up smoke, beginning to fill the hall. "It was a mere insult, do not let him goad you."

Kaennin began thumbing several explosive device pins, "Tell me! Have you learned from our little wars? Have you learned well?"

"What do you mean? Speak clearly, clansman!"

Kaennin walked into the door way, the Asgard in their combat armor, now towered over him, nearly hitting the ceiling of the narrow hall. Only their foreheads were visible, their eyes and arms encompassed in silvery metal servos, controlling armored arms that were both adorned in terribly destructive energy weapons. Agen raised his weapon arm towards Kaennin, raising his own in surrender.

"You never learned to look towards the dirt." Kaennin smiled. Agen was near retorting, but was interrupt when a green orb lifted from the ground up to his face.

The explosion did not damage the suit severely, but being that close, witg its kinetic potential and mass? It did not need to be strong to liquefy the Asgard occupant, the suit's shielding made to resist energetic weapons.

In that brief moment when his last memory was transferred through his armor to the ship in orbit, he cursed himself and his superior's decision thousands of years ago to let this beast live.

[][][[[[

'So close! So close!' Kaennin ran forward, avoiding any contact with waves of his hand, sending people against the wall as he rushed down the hall. Rounding a corner, a blast of orange shot forth grazing his core. Feeling a wellspring of agony, he bit back and roared at the attacker, running forward and sent him flying with his strongest TK push since his recovery, pushing not only the attacker but several others along with him or her to the opposing side of a massive chamber.

As his rush died, he turned to his right and saw the World Gate.

He ran towards it, planting a hand against its Stoney surface and felt the dial up procedure begin. It must have taken longer than usual, as he began to register more and more pain, despite his body's ability to withdraw it for some time.

The warm, reliving draw and whoosh of the world gate sent him into a frenzy towards the opening, but as soon as he began to cross its threshold, a fiery explosion met his back from his neck to his waist as he fell through it.

[][[[]][

"You tagged him with a staff weapon? Center mass?" General Hammond asked a member who sat at the table.

Teal'C nodded, "That is correct."

"Then we didn't misdial and he's possibly still around somewhere."

"So it seems." Tyr spoke from his hologram at the end of the table.

Hammond closed his eyes. They sent a team to the planet he addressed to, all they found was a bloody dialer. But that was after they called the address the first time that is, it failed initially, meaning that it was in use to another gate. Kaennin, Fenrir, was now free in the galaxy.

[][[[[[

Kaennin gasped as he walked through the gate and was met with a dense rainforest, the heat being leagues above what he had left.

He slowly limped down the carved steps, looking back to the First Generation gate, noting its increased size and thinner area compared to those of the more common World gate. Cringing as he turned back, the wound upon his core and back burned furiously, and he felt his consciousness wane every so often.

As he walked forward, find a place to rest, heal his injuries, three figures were seen out of his peripheral, flanking the world gate.

He turned towards them, and instantly thought them some kind of primitive local. The trinity were all women, with all them adorned in plate armor around their chest and shoulders, their arms and legs sparsely protected with leather padding, loin clothes dangling from their waist to their knees. In their hands, they held staves. The material seemed like wood but he had an odd feeling when he looked upon them that the tips, bulbous, pod like and pointed like spears, were either heavy enough to cause him damage or hid something from sight.

His attempt to read thoughts were in vain. He was spent. Despite his superiority, his wounds and his short recovery from his prison would assure they would win if they attacked.

The leader among them, dark of skin and long grey of hair walked forward, her nose up covered in a metallic mask of some snarling beast. She pointed her stave towards him, its tip splitting open like an eye with a crackle of energy, the barrel now visible. "Aray Kree!" She ordered.

Kaennin chuckled lowly, "Thabel always said my indulgence of women would be the end of me."

"Bet!" The other two to the leaders' flank mirrored her, "Dor Kek nor Mok! Aray Kree!"

"Oh, bugger off." He waved a hand at them.

The leader quickly ran forward and slammed the opposing end into his face, forcing him to almost tumble back.

Kaennin growled, as she approached in her attack. She swung the club end again, but he caught the end where the club met the staff and it was surprisingly easy to rip from its housing, the wood splintering. But she was more clever then that, as he swung his new club, she ducked and twisted the front of the staff under his legs and finally forced him to fall on his back.

His vision blackened, the pain now too much. "Ohhh goddammit..." He muttered as she retrieved the club from his grasp and slammed it onto his face.