"Dammit!" She cursed as the clip ended, then began to replay; good people- dead, they'd just been a group of scouts unprepared for the death and destruction of Brokens. People that had believed in what they were doing and had fought fearlessly to the end- or as fearlessly as could be expected; in some part of Bluehorse's mind she had thought that they would make it out of there- had wanted them to, even though she'd known that they hadn't had a chance. She'd wanted them to come out of that battle with their lives and their team intact, and when the last had died on the end of the recording, well...it was agony to say the least. She let the clip continue to replay, searching for all the information she could among the screams of pain and death- the size, experience, and training of the team; what weapons they might have had.
By the sounds mostly swords and pistols, once she heard a shotgun- but its owner must have been targeted almost immediately as the weapon went silent after the first few minutes- that or the gun had jammed. No other large rifles roared out over the battle, which might have taken down a Broken easier- the fact that they weren't carrying any large, modern weapons wasn't a surprising one. Rifles were often large, bulky, and hard to hide especially in dimensions where they didn't exist or hadn't been invented yet, they were hard to travel with- and agents had their abilities to use as weapons, making a gun almost obsolete. Regardless, agents tried not to wave them around, and the majority of the warriors didn't even keep bullets in their guns- only tranquilizer darts that defiantly wouldn't stop a Broken. As both the Savior and X agencies was big on taking lives.
Brokens in a sense were abominations; or at least they could be viewed that way- not for what they were, but for what they'd done to turn themselves into the bloodthirsty, power-hungry monsters that they were now. To become a Broken a Savior or X agent needed to corrupt the metal in their necklace- usually this happened when power-hungry idiots decided to tempt fate and try and make themselves more powerful by adding things to the metal in their necklace. Some of the agents who had been trapped in other dimensions after the gateways had closed nearly ninety years ago had tried to make Savior's steel themselves and had ended up corrupting more than just themselves. But just corrupting the metal wouldn't turn an agent into a Broken- not even close; it was the crimes they had committed- abandoning their own rules and traditions that kept them in check, they'd used their powers for their own benefit in sometimes horrible ways. There were stories left over to tell on dark, cold nights; journals lying in old outposts and houses stained with blood; diaries, reports- that told the truth of the monsters those agents had been even before they became monsters.
Humans were easily corrupted by power; that was a fact both agencies knew well- and one of the reasons why they loaded their guns with tranquilizer darts rather than bullets; why they tried not to settle in any dimension other than their own, unless the people there knew who and what they were, and even then they came and went infrequently compared to how long they could have stayed. The fact was also one that Bluehorse knew to be true, one that she'd found herself almost proving once- and something she was still trying to make up for. Power didn't corrupt everyone though, a person just had to know how to handle it- and then there was some kinds of power that could eat a person up from the inside out no matter what they did, Bluehorse wasn't sure which, if not both that she'd been dealing with so long ago. She'd come to understand over the years that it wasn't the metal that made a warrior or a monster, it was what the person did with their abilities that turned them into beasts or heroes.
Bluehorse didn't like Brokens, for one there was no sensible way to fight them - eventually an agent was always forced to resort to instinct- claws and teeth, a sword or gun just wouldn't cut it in most cases as they could all too easily be knocked out of a warrior's hand during the fight. It was often too difficult to shift and unshift during these battles like agents usually fought, and they needed to save their energy to heal the wounds the Brokens would doubtlessly leave- the beasts didn't stop and fall over from the pain of an arrow lodged in their shoulder as a an agent or any normal being would, they didn't defend themselves at all- except to knock the weapons out of their opponents' hands, and they often moved so quickly that it was difficult to get in a good shot with a gun if they weren't close. Close enough to easily be within the Broken's own striking range- which didn't give most agents enough time to fire their weapon and get out of the way. Otherwise Bluehorse hated their guts because of the things they did, had done, and would do if they were given the chance- they were pure evil and there wasn't an agent that would say otherwise, but sorrow often hung in their eyes after these battles as if the warriors were grieving for the lives they hadn't been able to save- even the Brokens they'd just ruthlessly killed.
Whether they said it or not most agents liked fighting in shifts; they liked to give in to their more animal instincts and feel their claws raking through an enemy's side or their weight falling perfectly onto all four legs. There was something about fighting in shift that called to the agents, making them more likely to fight, than to flee; something that made them see themselves as individuals yet a team- something that was so different from fighting as their human selves that it caused them to become more aware of the situations they faced, that allowed them to see the world in ways they'd never seen it and see even war in a different light. It was the pull and stretch of muscles, the strain of wings, energy coursing through them as they prepared to leap forwards- snarling as they went; it made them feel alive and free- truly, truly alive. It was dangerous, even though an agent had complete control of themselves at any given time- teeth and claws could do as much damage as a sword or gun, and it was easy to forget that. Agents were trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, and with the other dimensions any one agent might get three or more years of training before they hit the field and started in at the agencies for real. But there wasn't much training that agents did regarding fighting in shift with nonlethal maneuvers, or how to gauge how strong an attack would be- that was just something they picked up over the years, as fighting in shift came instinctively to an agent and they didn't have to be trained.
Fighting Brokens though, was different from anything that most agents had trained for. Brokens could not be reasoned with- agents had died trying. Brokens could not be caught and caged- it was too difficult, too dangerous, and sooner or later they always escaped; when the gateways had been reopened, a weaker version of the agents' gatewaying power had been awakened in the Brokens- so they often decided they didn't want to stay in their cage any longer and simply stepped out and usually not without bloodshed. All the monsters cared about was Savior's steel, death, fear, and power; they loved to see things burn, loved to create fear and pain- their humanity long gone, they had no mercy for their fellow warriors and would more than happily rip into an agent for the metal they wore around their neck- or just for the fun of it...agents didn't die as fast.
The creatures hibernated in the In-between, an area sandwiched between the gateways and the dimension they could never escape- the one in which they'd become a Broken; there they could sleep for an infinite amount of time, free from time's grasp they never aged even a minute- and were still as strong as when they were first created, only more bloodthirsty for the wait. In their dimensions they aged slowly or maybe not at all; no one kept them around that long- or lived long enough to tell. They awakened occasionally when any large event occurred; the rise and fall of heroes or villains, the start or ending of wars, but a Savior or an X agent's presence never failed to draw their attention, at which point they would awaken and resume their ageless hunt for Savior's steel.
The more Savior's steel that a Broken had the stronger they became, and while normal Brokens when compared to a regular agent were unbelievably weak in the mental department they were almost a match for their physical strength, which was a nightmare to anyone dealing with them, except for the slim fact that there were many ways to outsmart them. Power wise, as in the strength they had in controlling their abilities they were also weak, regular Brokens couldn't hold onto a form for any long period of time and were forced to constantly shift. The only scenario in which they could remain relatively solid in was during a battle , when adrenaline and bloodlust gave them the strength to hold onto a form long enough to rip into their victim's throat; and even then they could only hold a shift for a few, long minutes.
But then there were the Misfits, and the Doppelgangers, Brokens who could control the weaker versions of their kind. Misfits were stronger versions of ordinary Brokens- able to hold their forms for hours on end with only small alterations appearing over that time period. Misfits were much weaker than Doppelgangers, though they were far smarter than average Brokens and the smartest of them could be mistaken as humans- at least long enough to lure in their prey; Doppelgangers were named for their ability and tendency to shift themselves into exact copies of other beings. They used a type of Saviors' intuition (a power forced onto an agent when the gatewayed into a new dimension that taught them instantly the history, politics, languages, culture, etc. of the world they had entered so that they could blend in and protect themselves.) to instantly know everything about the person they'd shifted into; favorite color, food, drink- even that catchy song that'd been stuck in their victim's head all day. Needless to say it caused a lot of friendly fire- most of it fatal. Savior agents tended not to think, only act in the presence of a Broken and most couldn't sense the creatures well enough to know exactly who the real person was and who was the fake. The intelligence level of the creatures was what really set them apart, and Doppelgangers were the worst of them as well as the smartest. They could match a person's appearance down to the little details that hardly anyone would notice; they were impossibly strong and at this point obsessed with finding more Savior's steel, or anything that would make them more powerful. They were the most unsettling to fight as at times they could appear almost too human in a deeply disturbing way; as if all of what made humanity awful had been concentrated into one being. No- Brokens were to be killed on site; there was no saving them, no repairing the damage they'd done to themselves, and only one way to stop them.
Bluehorse read through every last page at least three or four times, memorizing it- agents had impossibly clever minds and were able to think far faster and their minds were able to hold more information than a normal human's; so they could react quicker to threats and actually be able to hold all the information they learned through Saviors' intuition without experiencing bouts of amnesia. The warrior was not going to let this ability go to waste, agents had amazing recall and if she ever needed to know something that had been in this file even months from now she'd be able to remember it if she committed it to memory now. The mission was fairly simple, dumbed down it amounted to scouting out the dimensions listed looking for any signs of Brokens, assessing the risk they posed, then heading back home to create a team capable of eliminating all of the creatures that inhabited that dimension, leading them back and getting rid of the pests before the people in that dimension even noticed their presence. The X agents were dead, she'd heard enough to be sure of that- it would be dangerous to search for them, but while she searched for the Brokens she'd check for any survivors. It could take years in a single dimension to try and find them, assuming there was anyone or anything to find- as much as she hated too she had to leave off searching for any survivors- leave them to look after themselves. Bluehorse was confident that she could do this- she'd dealt with Brokens before, she always wound up black and blue, bleeding out- but she always managed to make it out alive. She'd fought these things dozens of times, tracked them for miles without being spotted or sensed, and killed countless numbers of their ranks- she had a good idea of what to expect. There were always a million things that could go wrong, but being what and who she was- if something did happen she'd have the best chance of getting out alive.
The warrior wasn't fazed by this turn of events, this was her normal routine; deal with the mundane and far too easy missions that had more than a few humorous events along the way and then turn right around and enter a battlefield full of blood and death. Bluehorse had learned to handle the darkness of her job, the fear and pain that left scars on her mind and heart- memories that haunted her- the many corrupted agents she had put to rest snarling mindlessly still trying to rip into her as if they didn't feel the pain, evil seeping off of them in waves as thick as their tar-like blood that marred the polished silver of her sword. She hated killing them, Savior agents weren't built to kill- only to fight, they didn't have the heart to kill- no living thing should; but they knew when to pull the trigger, when to aim the blade for their enemy's heart. Bluehorse knew when it was time to fight, and when she could relax- play- forget that she was a killer and lose herself for a few precious moments in places of peace and calm. But, she never forgot the pull of her muscles, the weight of a sword in her hands, the loyalty to her friends- her teammates, and the need to protect those weaker than herself that drove her forward to fight as long as her heart continued to beat- the feeling of duty, of purpose, of love for the people she protected that sent the bullet flying through the air, sent the sword slamming down into her opponent; she never forgot that she was a warrior, a fighter, a hero. And even if she wasn't seen as these things she would always fight.
"Time to get to work." Bluehorse thought to herself, her eyes fierce and cunning- glinting in the light just like her necklace for a moment as she stood, pushing the chair away from the desk as she did- she left the folder out, she'd be back in a few hours to fill out the mission report.
There was a large time difference created when an agent gatewayed into another dimension, time slowed down drastically within the first half-hour and continued to slow down until it got to a point where the gap couldn't widen any farther. Although, by this time an agent would have been outside of their dimension for about three years- while back home it had only been three or four hours since they'd left. Agents didn't age during this time, their reality having been slightly broken when they gatewayed- they wouldn't be noticed missing and when they reappeared they looked the same as when they'd left. After the three year mark though, they would gradually become a part of the dimension that they were in and time would rebalance itself, they would start to age again and likely lose their ability to gateway- trapping them in that dimension. They looked younger than they were and carried all the experience of their many years- just another reason for them to have those impossibly large minds. If they were brought back home or still had their ability to gateway, they wouldn't age for three years- which would be a bit hard to explain to people that didn't know about the agencies. Both agencies had agreed to a one-month period where no agents entered the dimensions- this gave time a chance to rebalance and kept agents from getting trapped in another reality. It was also one of the only agreements the X agency had actually upheld and enforced. Which at least started building a bridge between the two agencies, a bridge that might never be finished due to the distrust, hate, and anger members of both sides held towards each other; but it was something at least.
The time difference worked great for the agents, although it could be completely disorienting. Not to mention the fact that now they had to worry about more than their own world, their workload was becoming a bit heavy. The agents wouldn't have it any other way though, there was some piece of them that needed to explore and hold out a hand- or in some cases a weapon to those that needed it. Even though it was likely the hardest and most dangerous job in the world none of them would have wanted to be doing anything else or spend their lives any other way. Years and years of training could be condensed into a few hours, years of experience could be gathered before agents were ever put in the thick of things and even though they tried not to recruit from any other dimension but their own, people flocked in from all corners of the multiverse- swelling the Savior agency's ranks with armies of warriors ready to die in order to defend those who could not, or would not defend themselves- and to fight beside the ones that would.
Black shadows slunk through the forest with an inhuman grace; murmuring, whispering as they circled menacingly. Sometimes they grew bold enough to break through the edges of the clearing, and then SkythekidRS got a ticket to the horror show; they were constantly changing- shifting between mutated-looking animals and Minecraftians, gritting their teeth in anger and pain as they did so. Thankfully, they were wreathed in clouds of dark mist or fog that hid the process as bones and muscles were continually molded into different shapes. Sky could only imagine what it would look like without the dark gray cloud of mist or smoke that melted nearly seamlessly with the fog blanketing the area and further hid his enemies from view. Whether the fog was natural or a product of so many of these things shifting he didn't really want to know.
The tree trunks and branches had grown so close together that even in the middle of winter they provided enough cover for these creatures, that Sky could never tell how many of them there were. Even with his sharp Half-dragon eyes, eyes that glowed bright gold in fear and anger behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, he couldn't tell just how many of these things had him cornered. His breath formed white clouds in front of his face as he watched the dark shapes move through the shadows of the woods, their breath didn't form the same trails he noticed. Their constantly changing shapes made it hard to track any one individual, so he was never sure where the bravest of them were- the ones that had and would try to attack him. He held his heavily enchanted butter sword at the ready, lashing out at any of them that dared to get too close. The things almost seemed to melt into the shadows around him, especially after being attacked...as if for a moment they became flat and two-dimensional. It was more than likely a figment of his imagination stirred up with his fear, but still something told him these things weren't natural- they weren't some product of disease or even dark magic. Instead he could feel hatred rolling off them in powerful waves; the greed, the anger that cast an insane glint to their eyes, suggesting some level of intelligence more than what a wolf or even a squid had. The air reeked of rotting meat and fresh blood- no doubt coming from the creatures, the scent stirred up memories of the war that had ended only two years ago and Sky tried to focus on the battle around him rather than the past that flashed occasional images across his mind. Every now and then, he would catch the faint gleam of moonlight off of the metal necklaces that had grown into their necks as they moved deep within the arms of the forest, surrounding him on all sides they paced restlessly in the shadows as if waiting for something.
These things were not normal- whatever they were they weren't supposed to exist, a feeling of fear and terror surrounded them as if to paralyze their prey- it forced him to be afraid of them, made him stand there in fear to try and fight them off- instead of simply flying away, because it felt like no matter what he did he would never be able to get away from them- and he wasn't sure if they couldn't just grow wings and chase after him. He knew somehow that they hated him, he didn't know why- or what he'd done to earn their hate- if anything, and all he did know was that he could feel it in the air, smell it in their scent, see it in the gleam of their eyes, and even hear it in the tone of their voices. They wanted to kill him and he knew if he didn't fight back they would rip him from limb to limb and paint the forest with his blood- a thought that sent shivers of terror down his spine; there was something defiantly beyond messed-up wrong with these things. But he gripped his sword and bared his fangs through the fear he felt, he couldn't let these monsters hurt anyone- he'd fight to the death to protect the world he'd started a war to defend...nothing was going to stop him, nothing.
As he continued to watch them, he noticed that their eyes never met his- instead their gazes remained obsessively fixed on the glowing amethyst necklace hung around his neck. They wanted it- he could see the greed in their eyes...but, why? The necklace was enchanted, but he'd never discovered what it did- except glow, it had always glowed for as long as he could remember (it made a fairly good light source for when he went mining, although it sometimes got a bit annoying). Why fix their gaze on the necklace, when he was the one they hated? Was the necklace why they hated him?
He paused for a moment, wondering if he should just take the thing off and ditch it, cut his losses- even though it was a family heirloom and meant a lot to him- getting rid of it might be the only way he could get back home and warn the others. A price he was willing to pay if it saved lives. His hand slowly reached up for the metal around his neck, he hated giving butter to evil creatures- no telling what they would use it for, but still it might give him the chance to escape- there were too many to fight, he knew that for sure.
"Yes! Give us the metal!"
"Savior's steel- give it, give it!"
"Foolish and stupid...but wise- give it to me!"
The voices chorused all at once, giving Sky a very bad feeling- maybe he shouldn't give these things his amulet after all- maybe that was an even worse idea than trying to fight them all at once. A steady determination filled his heart as he lowered his hand away from the necklace to grip the sword with both. Preparing for the battle that would surely start the second they realized he'd decided not to give them what they wanted. Their voices grew louder and louder, pleading and demanding that he give them the necklace as they circled closer and closer- no longer bothered by his threats or his sword. They bolted in and out of the clearing not really trying to kill him yet, just trying to hurt him- dodging his attacks with what sounded like mocking insults in a language other than Minecraftian. He fought them off as long as he could, hacking and slashing the dark shadows that desperately tried to rip into him with sharp claws and teeth, occasionally one would swing a thick branch at his head and once one tried to stab him with a rusty dagger or maybe it'd been a kitchen knife. He even got the broken blade of a sword tossed at his face by the enraged things that got more and more aggressive as time went on, and Sky was starting to get angry at the constant harassment.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He screamed, unable to hold in the fear and rage any longer, why wouldn't they just fight him straight out instead of torturing him like this, taunting him. And just for a few moments the forest went silent.
Suddenly though, one leaped from the edge of the clearing, this one seemed more powerful and looked far more human than the rest; one that wasn't shifting like the others- the leader? In defense he raised his sword, only to find it broken in two, the end of the blade half-buried in a pile of dead leaves at his feet- only visible because of the enchantments that were now slowly fading away- their magical light dimming into nothing. Seto was going to have a fit if he made it out of here alive, no telling how many hours of work had gone into that weapon. Black, ink-like blood covered the metallic surface of both halves, it dripped slowly off the raggedly broken blade and he could only stare in horror at the sword that had been whole only moments before- fully realizing how alone he really was at the moment. If he was killed, it was unlikely that anyone would know where he'd gone- had he told anyone where he was going? Where was he? Funny- he didn't remember traveling here at all.
He tried to reach for his full form- his real self, to get away- warn the others about these things; why hadn't he flown away before? He tried, but what had always been so natural to him was now impossible when he needed it the most, and before he could even think to do anything the creature leaped forwards with an enraged screech. It tackled him, knocking the broken sword out of his hand with the force of the blow and pinned him to the ground- its face inches from his as he struggled to knock the thing off. Mind already flying to think of ways that he could save himself. The blade of his sword was only a few feet away- if he could reach it maybe he could manage to kill the thing. But as the creature barred bloody fangs in triumph he could feel the strength leaving him, for the first time felt his injuries and the pain that went with them. Fear and terror washed over him in waves as the thing picked him up, holding him a few feet off the ground by his necklace and Sky thrashed trying to get free, desperately struggling even though he knew it was useless... It always was.
His wings had somehow appeared, they remained limp weights on his back as he tried to move them, his tail dragged lifelessly along behind him as the thing carried him forwards staring up at him in the same expression of utter victory and that blood coated grin. He dug his claws into the thing's hands, in an attempt to break free- glaring down at the monster with hate filled eyes as black blood began to pour from the wound. Then he lashed out at the thing's face, deserting its hands for a more worthy and strategic target. The thing howled in pain once more as his claws met their mark, but the smirk was wiped off his face a second later when the creature slammed him against a tree in retaliation, and all the breath left his lungs. Stars and blackness took over his sight.
When he reopened his eyes a moment later he noticed that the sky had turned a crimson red, ash drifted through the air as it was picked up by the wind and he wondered why. This wasn't normal, the thought that this wasn't real made its way into his mind and for a few seconds the world around him grew foggy and indistinct. Almost- almost as if...his attention was wrenched away by the pairs of hands that wrenched his hands back around the tree to hold him in place with a bedrock like grip. Their leader- it was obvious now- and the exact same one that had slammed him against the tree; reached forward, lifting his prey's chin almost gently as Sky stared back in defiance- snarling in rage and struggling against his captors' grip. Knowing what came next he tried to yank his head back, but he couldn't escape, couldn't break the hold these monsters had on him. The thing lovingly, reverently lifted up the golden amulet, the one that had been passed down in his family until its legend had been lost- if only he knew what it actually did; he might be able to save himself.
"Not again- no, not again!" He begged remembering what was coming. "Please- please not again!" He shouted, holding onto the faint glimmer of hope that he had left, this was NOT real- NONE of it was real. "Please- somebody, WAKE ME UP!" He screamed.
"Sky!?" A voice called out and the world fogged over again.
The nightmare was terrifying, but he knew it wasn't without a purpose- it wasn't meant to harm him; it was meant to warn him about these things and what they could do- so he could protect himself and others against these monsters. He'd had dreams like this before, dreams that predicted the enemies he would encounter; it was usually only the enemies he would face- but once in a while it would be the whole scenario that played out in his mind that came to life later on in the real world. The nightmares had grown gory after the war, either influenced by his years on the battlefield and the bloodshed there that refused to leave even the regular dreams, or simply reflecting his path as a warrior- he didn't know. But the pain he felt in this dream was a sure sign that this wasn't one of the regular dreams, but one of THOSE dreams; the dreams that haunted him throughout the day and never stopped until he figured out what he was supposed to do, or until the danger was over.
He screamed as the necklace was ripped off his neck, it felt like it was embedded into the skin like the monsters' own necklaces. The pain suggesting not that this would hurt in real life, but that it was a VERY bad thing that he should NOT let happen. It felt like some vital piece of his mind or heart was being ripped forcibly away, and as he watched in horror the dream finally decided to show him why this outcome was so horrible, or at least a possibility.
The monster held up the necklace, flecks of red and black blood marring its surface, the thing grinned happily. It looked at Sky with an insane delight and for a second- for some reason...he almost pitied it. But a bolt of terror obliterated the sudden, unexpected emotion when the creature glanced slyly at the amulet as if deciding something. Here it usually shook its head and killed him, sending him back to reality, but not this time. This time the smile faded for a few seconds, then returned with a maniacal light in its eyes. It stared at him, grabbing his chin and turning it so that Sky was forced to meet its gaze- this was the first time any of them had looked him in the eyes and he stared into that intent gaze he glimpsed something deep and irreparably corrupted in its mind. With its free hand it slipped the necklace over its own neck, instantly the hair began to grow healthier- turning a medium shade of brown; the facial features changing slowly- painfully.
"No!" He breathed in horror and disbelief as the creature's eyes dimmed then flared a different color than before. Wings stretched out behind it; black scales glinting a red-gold in the light of that odd, unreal sky. The monster leaned forward and plucked the sunglasses from his face and fitted them onto its own, as its clothes mended into a perfect match for his. He was left staring into an exact copy of his own face.
Then it spoke, the voice achingly familiar- horrifyingly real; HIS own voice poured venomously from the monster's throat and out into the ice cold air. It laughed- laughed at seeing the look of fear and anger on its victim's face; twisting Sky's voice into a crazed, aggressive, horrific sound as all he could do was listen and try to break free.
"The Phoenix is dead, and now there's no one strong enough to stop me that can get here soon enough. No one that is...but, admittedly some of the most influential leaders of the Minecraftian armies- plus you've got something that belongs to us- and it doesn't look like you're using it! We'll come for you- and then the others...your so-called friends- I say that because they won't even notice that you're not you- they won't even realize you're missing. Amazing right!?" The thing gloated. "After that- I think I'll have some fun with what's left. And after we find what we're after...well let's just say that cliché old saying 'There's nowhere left to hide' will be a little more feasible. " It laughed again and Sky screamed in fear and rage, as another higher pitched scream rang out in the distance- he caught the faintest glimpse of something falling from the clouds and wreathed in flames, just before everything...went...black.
And then...he woke up in his own bed- with a startled mudkip trying to break down the door in order to save him from whatever threat might have caused Sky to scream that loudly.