"An exemplar of genius, Administrator," the commander's eyes gleamed through his visor. He nervously adjusted a shoulder strap on his azure-colored vest.

"It is, isn't it?" the tall, white-faced figure stroked his ashen beard. "You see, by using our portals to tie the Wasteland together, we will stop the mutants before they even reach the Sewers! Maybe if we're lucky that rogue rat will go down with 'em. Make sure you retrieve any part of her armor you can." Then he paused and looked down at the man, his eyes piercing through the polarized silver of commander's helmet. In a low voice he asked, "In case any of them do reach the Palace, commander, is the Throne still corrupted?"

"It killed off five of our officers the last time we made an inspection, sir," the soldier calmly kept deep-rooted spite from spoiling his tone. He had heard stories of the Administrator's ability to read thoughts from minor inflections alone. The Administrator noticed this effort. He liked this man.

Administrator cackled, smacking the desk with his hand. "Good work, BQ", he breathed, "we have no possible way to be overrun. Signal your troops to link up the city and begin the assault on the Desert. Both the mutants and that traitor are top priorities."

"Right away, my lord," the Inspector briskly retreated down the corridor. Administrator drifted to his window, an observatory where could he smile down at his city. The sun was just beginning to set over the crystalline lake. Its synthesized waters held liquid nutrients and antibiotics for the city's inhabitants, partly contributing to the world's best quality of life.

He was securing the existence of his people for generations to come. Order. This must be a constant. These other-dimensional mutants could gain access to his portal network, and thus invade his world. No, he must keep his sovereign strong and vigilant. For the good of his people. Then again, he had no proof of any mutant that could enter his portals. No scientist nor officer had ever informed him thus. The ex-officer had never even tried to return. But worlds weren't maintained on the basis of proof. No. Safety was derived from predictions of chaos. He overflowed with pride whenever he remembered the intelligence system that once protected the Wasteland. Now its central core was in tatters, leaving its world ripe for disorder. It had fallen to the ultimate predator, its people. Administrator out-performed a short-circuited computer that now worked for him. Indeed, to him, there was no finer honor.

The blue sleeves of the man snaked down to a ice box and retrieved a bottle of crystal water. He took a long swig. As my city sleeps, my soldiers win wars. Such beauty comes from this.

•••

"You refuse to advance," the Shielder rumbled to the bandit family. A light sandstorm had been brewing for a while now, caking everyone in the Desert's powder.

"We saw the flames on that hill," one whimpered.

"The Savior Phantom has returned to the Desert," another chimed.

"You said all you saw was a fire, maggots," the Shielder roared, waving two Grunts to his side. "And you expect me to believe there is a phantom out there? There are no ghosts in this land. Either you step in line with the battalion as we requested or these two can dispatch of you rejects."

"Of course, you wouldn't know of this being," responded the third bandit, her voice gritty from desert fumes. "In a world teeming with mutations in every organism, you interdimensional raiders have not yet realized that there can be monsters of any form. If we are dispatched here, we are likely to see you as soon as you find the mutants. The Savior will not hesitate before he swallows you all in flames."

"Get rid of them," the Shielder mumbled to the Grunts, stomping towards his battalion. The bandits were a force to be reckoned with, and the man was glad the IDPD didn't have to fight them. But he always had the strangest experiences with these people. They were resolute warriors, but routinely required a push to dispose of anxieties fostered by ceasefire. He was told by the gene specialists that this year's crop of Bandits would be more resolute and less cautious. And have better aim.

The invasion force had organized in each village center, his being the closest to a suspected mutant camp on the hill facing them. Amongst the sand clouds, he could make out the Ravens, Alligators, and Crystal Spiders. Several rats wheezed from the wind-blown sand. A large pack of Fire Salamanders were just rising from their slumbers and stretching out their shiny, black bodies. Five Snowbots loaded missile shells into a groggy Big Dog devouring a pile of maggots. This world seemed to birth a pestilence which fed on the death it yielded, a convoluted cycle of its natural order. Was it so ludicrous then, to think that such an environment could produce ghosts and demons?

Don't think of this. Every mutant would be slaughtered. Simple arithmetic. At the stratagem meeting, every commander was sure nothing could go astray. He grabbed his shield generators and strapped them to his vest. Rapidly, he flipped the switch a few times, testing the power. The prism was quite durable, he checked, knocking hard against it from the inside. Light winds from the sand had nearly diminished. Squadron lines were already forming at the base of the rocky dune. It was time.

A ray of sunlight broke through the darkened clouds behind them, lightly pointing towards their destination. It was true; reports from the closest villages had described a large flame that shot skyward just a night before. Coincidentally however, Administrator had been planning this attack for months. There were only so many mutants left, thought the Shielder. In all the years the IDPD occupied the Wasteland, there was no better day to finish them off. Within the chaos that had brought the seven regions together, the Shielder could still see his city at the end of this battle. Walking close to his fellow commandos, they boldly strode to the front lines.

•••

Rogue launched herself at Rebel, and Steroids grabbed both the allies. Robot, Chicken, Crystal, and Plant surrounded Fish. In the darkness, they could still spot the revolver wound, cutting deep into the right side of his neck. The bullet seemed to find a easy entry through the central gill. Fish wheezed slightly, with an abrupt halt.

"It has entered his windpipe," Robot said aloud.

"Eyes and Horror," Crystal yelled over her shoulder, "go look for any medpacks. We're certainly going to need it." Eyes hopped onto Horror, now in Dog form. The two ran down the rocky hillside, out of sight.

"But, Crystal," Melting murmured, "aren't you going to ask about that voice? We all know that no one here spoke when it did."

"Robot, you make the incision," Crystal continued to focus on Fish, her dearest friend. "Plant, hold him down and daze him with a poison. The medkit should heal him completely. What was that, Melting? The voice? Does that really matter right now, you glob," she growled at him harshly.

"It really does matter," the voice sounded again, making Crystal's shoulders rise. Melting knew now that she was both fearful and incensed, a combination that made his body melt faster just thinking about it. She whipped around and stomped on the ashes of the campfire.

"Wherever you are and whoever you are," she bellowed, "leave us alone. I don't care who you are, just go away."

"Crysta-", Rebel began.

"What?!" She demanded. "What could you possibly have to say to me? To any of us?"

"Please move your foot away from the head, love," the voice stated flatly. It had a raspy quality to it, a lifetime spent in the sand. "That's all." Crystal obeyed, staring at the black pile of soot she had churned from her outburst. Suddenly, the pile exploded, sending them all flying towards the ends of camp. From the pile now sprouted a tower of flame. It waved gently in the sky. And then it collapsed, and as it did, the fire seemed to take shape as it burned out. Even the wounded Fish watched the spectacle, too intoxicated to care very much. "Shiny," he breathed.

When the fire burned down, a small, glowing figure walked from where the fire had been. Then Fish widened his eyes at the being. Its face was smooth, and he was adorned from head to toe in ancient tunics. In his right hand, he grappled a blackened cane that reflected off his light. This man was a spirit. The spirit. Chicken ran in front of Fish and planted herself firmly between the two, chicken sword drawn. Even if Fish was honest, the sprite could still be harboring some sort of hostility towards him. Rebel was the first who fell to the ground in front of the spirit. "Praise the legends of time. You are our savior, you are the change, and," she said this phrase while laughing, "you truly were our fire."

"The thoughts are sweet, but I am no savior," he smiled at her, "that is just the folklore, voicing your logic for you. I am just a simple mutant, really."

"How can we just believe you?" Y.V. called to him. "What can you do?" At that moment, Horror leaped onto the hilltop with Eyes, holding the ex-Guardian tightly. Riding Horror was never fun.

"Did you find any packs, guys?" Crystal asked. But everyone knew they came back empty handed.

"I did tell you I wasn't your savior, Rebel," the glowing man glanced at the her. "But I never said I wasn't a ghost. This is my ability, gun god." His body metamorphosed into a fire which snaked through the sand, towards Fish. Chicken swung at the spirit as it approached, but it still passed. Plant released Fish, unsure if it would help to attack the mutant he trusted most. The group watched Fish's motionless body. His eyes twitched slightly, and when he opened them, his pupils shone like stars. Fish's arm reached towards the small incision and steadily stuck two claws inside and felt for the bullet. Slowly, he contracted, pulling a shiny pellet from the gill. His fellow mutants showed varying signs of disgust and amazement. Eyes fainted from both. YV's eye twinkled, "At least, he knows I'm a gun god."

Fish moved slowly upright then sat, facing them. "He feels no pain," the spirit assured them. "My ability allows me to absorb his damage as if it was my own body with the bullet wound," he noticed that they followed every word and smiled at the dust. Looking around at the small enclosure of their camp, he said, "He and I spent years together here. When he rescued me, he was very young. But I could tell he needed rescuing of his own. He needed someone there to reassure and comfort him with hope. That's partly why so many of you were so lucky to be helped by him. And I realize many of you came and joined him on your own accord. While conjoined with that fire, I watched you all, I know your names, your personalities, everything about you. And not because it was unbelievably boring to be a couple of burning logs for four years, no, because I wanted to get to know my family. I know many of you have questions, but they must be queued. We have a busy schedule." The sun peaked over the desert horizon. A single beam of sunlight spread through the opening of the eastern wall and painted the western entrance.

"But what about the danger…." Melting soft voice trailed off. He was still just as bamboozled as the rest of them.

"A camp can be made anywhere, right?", he asked them rhetorically. "Good. Because we need to get away from here. As I speak, legions of your worst rivals gather at the base of the camp."

"I...I completely understand that you're a ghost," Chicken began, "but how could you possibly know about this?"

"What?" Fish's forehead wrinkled quizzically. "Can't you hear that?" The group listened...and for a while no one heard anything remotely suspicious. A windy morning sandstorm was now making its rounds through the Desert. Sand ran along the walls of their enclosure, making a light whooshing sound. But through the wind, the sound of portals rang up to them. But many of them couldn't be phased by fear after meeting a mutant ghost.

"Instead of you teleporting to them, today they…", the phantom knew he didn't have to finish that conclusion. There was no time. "Our only chance is to divide their forces. There are several caves in the summits west of here. Rebel come with me and Fish, we'll revive him later."

"No," Crystal softly interjected, "she can't go with him."

"Crystal," the body of Fish responded, "don't let this be personal for you. I need you with Melting and Rogue." Glancing at Rebel, he said, "she won't have her crosshairs on him again, I promise you this.

Addressing the rest of them, he said, "Alright, now Chicken and Steroids, you'll have Eyes with you, and make sure he's informed. YV, Horror, Robot, and Plant, since you're the biggest team, we'll need you to prey on them the most. Pull out all the stops. Traps, flanking, feel for your inner-bandit. Is this all clear?"

"But ghost!" Steroids exclaimed, "what is your name?"

"Ah yes, and I do know all of yours," he smiled. "Fish always called me Apollo. He was a fan of pre-Apocalyptic myths and I reminded him of the sun god. I suppose you can too. Now, I need Melting's group for the last step. Everyone else find the furthest cave you can that faces this hill. I will call on you all again, and I'm sure you'll know the sign." Without question or word spoken the two teams left, running down the sandstone corridor leading to the mountains. The remaining six watched as Chicken waved and followed the rest of them out.

"Now," he turned back to Melting. "We need to buffet them a bit. And I hear you're not too shabby with the explosives." From the sandstone corridor facing the east, they heard a large rumble, followed by the roar of a Big Dog and the war calls of a thousand bandits. But even above that was the hiss of the Crystal Spiders.

"Plant's maggots!" Rogue suddenly shouted. "Apollo and Rebel get out now. We've got all this covered." They both quickly sprinted out.

"Y'know, Rogue" Melting was barely audible in the rushing noise of the invasion. "The ground beneath us is full of the maggots. The blast radius I'll make is gonna kill us."

"Then thank, Apollo," Crystal said, "for setting up the teams so nicely." She enlarged herself and grabbed Melting, engulfing him. Rogue smiled at Crystal, but it was more of a grimace. She switched on her blast shield and they quickly fled the enclosure.