Explosions ripped through the air. Smoke billowed into the sky in dirty grey clouds. The earth trembled with the might of gods.
A caped figure staggered across the desert, clutching an arm that was obviously broken in a terrible way, pieces of white sticking out from the blood-drenched sleeve.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit..." grunted the Beastwoman, clutching at her stomach in pain. Blood leaked out between her fingers, dripping down to the hard, dry ground.
"I know it won't kill me, but...damn it hurts. Bastards musta put something in that last attack...I'm supposed to heal faster than this..."
She gasped as her leg collapsed under her, sending her sprawling to the dirt. The pain made her grit her teeth, but she had been trained to take such abuse, and she quickly continued dragging herself away from the battle.
"Guess he didn't want me running away, so he takes away the gift he gave me...haha...Bastard." She chuckled bitterly to herself.
Suddenly, she became aware of another presence. Looking up, she saw a pair of dirty, shoeless feet. Lifting herself off of the ground slightly, she looked up into the frightened face of a human child.
"I...I'm sorry!" blubbered the child. "I didn't...please don't hurt me!"
The Beastwoman smiled, amused by the child's reaction.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Like hell I could, in my condition..."
The child crouched down and looked her in the eyes. Red eyes peaked out curiously from under a wild fringe of blue hair.
"I trust you. Your eyes aren't lying."
"Of course they aren't! I'm not some backstabbing traitor! I face life head-on, and deal with the details later!"
"Gee, that sounds hard."
"You get used to it after a while."
There was another round of explosions. The Beastwoman's face flickered with worry. They would be after her soon. If only she'd been able to get to her Ganman...hell, she should have just lived in the cockpit, for all the good it would have done.
"Lady? What's wrong?"
In that moment, the Beastwoman felt pity for the lonely, probably orphaned child. Thinking quickly, she came up with a plan.
"Listen to me, kid," she began. "It's not safe here. If you stay here, you'll die."
"So where do I go?" He seemed strangely unconcerned.
"There's another village, somewhere east from here. That's..." She lifted herself up and pointed. "...Thataway. Just keep running until you see something that looks like smoke. Go there, and drop down the hole. You'll end up in the village."
"But what about you?"
"Me? Ha! I'm a goner. But you know..."
She took her unbroken arm and unclasped the red cape that hung about her neck, and handed it to the boy.
"Fuck Lordgenome. He isn't getting this back. And..."
She reached over to her broken arm and unclasped a bracelet, from which dangled a tiny skull.
"Take this too. Another gift from an asshole. Or a bitch, in this case."
"But, Lady. I can't leave you...you might die."
"Me? Die?" There was another round of bitter laughter. "I can't die, kid. Not here. Maybe not anywhere."
"But that's impossible."
She showed her teeth in a crooked, pained smile.
"Kick reason to the curb and do the impossible. That's the Gurren way, get it?"
"But it's been almost fifty years, I think. You can't possibly be that boy."
"What?" The boy in question turned around, lights from his eyes lighting up the room. "Who's that?"
"Up here, kid."
The boy turned his gaze upwards, towards the source of the sound.
High up on the wall was a Beastwoman, arms spread and blonde hair messy and long. She was pinned there by a multitude of metal spikes and chained at various points on her arms, legs, waist and neck.
"Who...who are you?" asked the boy, somewhat frightened by this revelation.
"Che, that settles it. You're not him. You got the hair but not the eyes." She closed her eyes. "I'm just another prisoner here. You here to free me, or what?"
"Prisoner...?"
"What, these didn't clue you in?" She gestured with her head towards the bloody metal spikes. "What were you expecting? Some kind of three-headed, winged monster?"
"Well..." The rest of the boy's sentence was cut short as he sneezed. He wiped his nose and shivered, suddenly realizing how cold it was.
"You think this is cold? You should feel it when the cold currents pass through here in the fall! Or, at least, I think it's in the fall. Can't really tell without any trees around." The Beastwoman let out a barking laugh, amused at her own humour.
Simon panned his gaze around the room, suddenly noticing his surroundings. Other than the hole he had created, the room was completely featureless metal, except for a door set into the far wall.
"Well? You going to free me or what?" the Beastwoman demanded, clearly becoming impatient. "If you're not, I'd like to go back to my decades-long nap."
The boy stared at her, still stunned by her existence. This had not been what he had expected when he planned to break in. Eventually he shook off his surprise and addressed her.
"I'm Simon! Simon the Digger!" announced the boy. "Who are you, and why should I free you?"
"Well, the digger part is evident at least..." grumbled the Beastwoman before raising her voice to call back. "I thought we went over this already. I'm a prisoner. Not only am I a prisoner, I'm a high-security one who obviously pissed off someone at the top of the food chain. Now what does that tell you?"
"Umm...that you're a prisoner?"
"No," sighed the Beastwoman in frustration, clenching her sharp teeth. "It means I'm dangerous and on your side."
"How does that work?"
"You're a human breaking into a heavily fortified prison. You're clearly a rebel."
"Yeah, but...then are you a rebel too? But you're a Beastman. Woman."
"You know, I'd like to take this moment to slam the palm of my head into my forehead, but oh wait that's right...my arms are pinned to the wall."
"You're kind of a rude one."
The beastwoman rolled her eyes in irritation.
"Thank you for stating the obvious yet again. Now free me. Preferably now. Start with the sharp pieces of metal placed within my limbs."
Simon took a moment to consider her offer. Everything she said was true, even if it had taken him a while to process it all. If she was as powerful as she implied...
"All right, I'll free you," decided Simon out loud.
"Oh thank God Almighty in Heaven even though it's been proven that He doesn't exist."
"Who's God?"
"Shut up and get pulling, brat."
Simon grumbled at her rudeness, but complied. He activated Lagann's booster, allowing him to hover up to her level. He reached out with Lagann's hands and grasped one of the spikes, embedded in her left wrist.
"Are you sure this is a good idea...?"
"Yes! Do I have to say it again? PULL!"
Simon moved the controls, and Lagann pulled.
The spike came free with a disturbing sucking noise. As it slid out of the arm a gout of blood spurted out, coating the spike anew and splattering Lagann's face.
"Ah! You're bleeding!" gasped Simon in a panicky tone.
"Quit freaking out, kid," reprimanded the Beastwoman. "See? It's already healing."
Simon looked, and, to his surprise, what she said was true. In front of his eyes the bleeding abruptly stopped, the flesh knit itself back together, and just like that it was as if the spike had never been there.
"Ooh, that's nice," sighed the Beastwoman, closing her eyes in pleasure and moving her wrist experimentally.
"What...what was that?"
"Free me first," said the Beastwoman. "Then maybe I'll tell you."
His interest piqued, Simon removed the rest of the spikes. One in each wrist, one in each ankle, and two more in each limb made for a total of twelve spikes. When the last one clanged against the floor, he drew Lagann back and admired the Beastwoman's lack of obvious injury.
"Should I get those, too?" he asked, pointing to the chains that still kept her against the wall.
"Nah, I'll get those myself," answered the Beastwoman. "A strapping hard-working young man like you deserves a break. And besides, I'd like to test my strength."
Exhaling, she relaxed her arms and legs. Then her whole body tensed, the muscles in her arms and legs straining with effort. With a snapping noise her restraints suddenly burst out of the wall, the metal tearing under the force enacted upon it. Bits of metal flew at Lagann, causing Simon to duck down instinctually. Meanwhile, the Beastwoman fell the full ten metres to the floor, landing on one knee with catlike grace.
She unfolded and stood up straight, looking up at Simon. She smiled and saluted thankfully. He stared at her in awe, his interest engaged in full, wondering who and what she really was. As he went through a thousand possibilities in his mind, she began walking towards the door.
...And fell flat on her face.
"Ow! Dammit!" she swore, sitting up and rubbing her nose. "That hurt!"
Simon laughed as he brought Lagann back to ground level.
"Can it, pipsqueak!" snapped the Beastwoman. "You try being crucified to a wall for fifty years, then we'll see how well you'll be able to walk!"
Simon's laughter faded to quiet chuckles.
"I'm just out of practice, is all..." she grumbled, hauling herself back to her feet.
Simon fought back more laughter as the Beastwoman stumbled across the room as if she were completely hammered. Soon enough, however, she recovered herself, and strode purposefully towards the door at the other end. Simon put Lagann into a jog to catch up.
"Where are you going?" asked Simon.
"Out of here, that's where," replied the Beastwoman curtly. "I mean, we are supposed to be breaking out of here, right?"
"Actually...I didn't come to bust you out."
The Beastwoman stopped abruptly. She whirled around to face Simon.
"What?"
"Well, if I wanted to just rescue you, then I would have just dug us both out of here."
With no metal spikes to restrain her, the Beastwoman slammed the palm of her hand into her forehead, hard. "Then why are you here?"
"I actually came to break up the fortress from the inside. Specifically, deactivate the automatic defences."
The Beastwoman muttered to herself before sighing.
"Well, I've got some things to pick up anyway..." she grumbled. "And you won't have a snowball's chance in any other Hell without my help."
She continued her walk to the door. Upon closer inspection, the door was made out of solid metal, and didn't appear to have any control mechanism.
"Figures I wouldn't be so lucky..." she complained. Without even a pause, she slammed her fist into the door. To Simon's amazement, her arm punched straight through, the metal shrieking in protest.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed.
"Kid, you're really easy to impress," the Beastwoman commented. She rooted around in the hole she had made for several seconds before finding what she was looking for. She removed her arm, and the door slid open with a narrow hiss, only opening partway because of the damage to it. The Beastwoman slid through into a cylindrical, metal chamber. Simon barely managed to squeeze Lagann in behind to her. She punched a button, and Simon realized the chamber was an elevator just as it began to rise with the whirr and clunk of machinery.
The two stood silent for a while as the elevator continued ascending. During this time, Simon finally got the opportunity to examine the strange Beastwoman up close. She was quite tall, and well muscled, despite her claims of decades-long imprisonment. She also didn't look to be anything over thirty; her hair was indeed quite long, as though it hadn't been cut in a while, but there wasn't even a speck of grey hidden among the golden blonde. In a display of true adolescent lack of self-control, Simon's eyes went downwards, to her chest area. She definitely wasn't lacking in that department, he decided quickly. Suffice to say, they were larger than anything he had ever seen, and given that he hung out with Kiyoh and Yoko, this was really saying something. He drew back, less in respect for her propriety, than because he was afraid that he would suffocate if he leaned forward any farther. Her shirt didn't help any, either; it barely qualified as a tank top, and parts of it were practically worn through. Her pants, too, were precariously thin, showcasing her muscled legs quite nicely, and fromn the back protruded a fluffy golden tail.
Simon swallowed and blushed, looked away, and decided to break the silence.
"So, uh...what's your name?"
"Aumuna," replied the Beastwoman without looking at him, her attention clearly elsewhere. "Aumuna Syndras. Shit, probably shouldn't have given you my last name. Oh well."
"Aumuna...Syndras. Who are you?"
"Nobody."
"That's a lie."
"Of course it is. It wouldn't be a very effective deception if it weren't."
They stood silently again for a while.
"Oh, yeah, I should probably mention," said Aumuna casually, leaning against the wall and looking at her fingernails disinterestedly. "You're probably wondering why we haven't seen any guards, right?"
"I guess?"
"Well, that's because they couldn't find any guards with the balls to actually stay in the same room as me." She gave Simon a feral grin, showing rows of pointed teeth. The elevator began to slow, the machinery humming as it decreased in speed.
"We're about to walk into a room filled with all the heavily-armed guards that should have been looking after me personally. Stay on your toes, now."
Not waiting for the door to open, Aumuna kicked it and, despite the fact that it was a sliding door, it blew outwards and flew across the room, flying into the head of one unsuspecting Beastman guard. Several dozen others whirled about at the sound, guns pointing towards the ruins of the elevator door.
The mysterious Aumuna Syndras strode out into the guardroom, cracked her knuckles, and prepared to deliver the line she'd been waiting over fifty years to say.
"Let us dance."
Ribo said it like it was an order, not a request. He extended his hand elegantly, clearly expecting to be obeyed.
Yoko hardly wanted to engage in such a close physical activity with the man who had killed her friends. However, she had little choice under the circumstances, given that he had brought along a pair of armed guards. The bitch in the green pigtails had shown up too, though, and Yoko thought it an excellent opportunity to spite her.
Ribo was dressed in a fine uniform befitting of his status as Emperor, purple with golden laniards and medals of varying colours in addition to his crown.
Yoko, on the other hand, was decked out in a long white dress that Ribo had specially chosen for the occasion. It was full of frills and pretty red lace and flowed all the way down past her feet. It seemed to her that the chest area was too tight, though, as her cleavage seemed to billow out over top of it. Her hair was done up rather nicely, and the Beastwoman maids had opted to coat her face in "make-up" whatever the hell that was. Altogether she looked quite stunning, like something out of a fairytale that she had once read.
Of course she hated it, all of it.
She grudgingly took hold of Ribo's proffered hand. The Beastman band in the corner of the ballroom immediately took to their instruments, stirring up a slow melody to accompany their dance. As the music filled the chamber, Ribo and Yoko began their flowing, twirling accompaniment.
Ribo was clearly well versed when it came to dancing, as was obvious from the moment they began. Yoko wasn't used to moving so gracefully, with such unnecessary twirls and fancy footwork, but she'd busted her ass for weeks trying to learn the proper steps and, dammit, she wasn't about to let Ribo see her slip up. Once she started thinking of it as a personal competition against her captor, it took little effort for her to keep up.
"Very good. I see my lessons have paid off," complimented the young emperor, giving an amusing smile.
Yoko grunted, unable to spare any concentration to give a proper reply.
"I must say, I was skeptical when Mito first suggested it. A cavern-dwelling human, learning the intricacies of the sciences and arts? And yet, here we are. You'll make a much better bride now, just as he said. I underestimated you, Lady Ritona."
Yoko ignored most of what he said. She'd learned to ignore most of his bullshit about "brides" and "heirs" and "Nucleotypes". The part about Mito she kept, though, sticking it at the back of her mind where she stuck important things that she thought she should remember. Mito was one of the Spiral Knights...and the one who had given her an education. She had to remember his name.
"If only that digger...Shimon? No, Simon, could see you now. I'm sure he couldn't dance to save his life." He grinned sadistically and chuckled. "Oh, my that's right. What an unfortunate turn of phrase, considering he's dead now."
Yoko gaped at him, struck dumb by the sheer arrogance of it.
She couldn't take it. She couldn't handle any more of the arrogance, of the stupidity, of the blind egoism...She just couldn't take it. The unbelievable insensitivity of casually dropping news like that, even though she had already known, even though she had expected it, was the snapping point for all of her frustrations.
She slapped him.
Ribo spun away, a stunned look on his face. The music ground to a screeching halt, the band looking at each other nervously, uncertain of what to do next. Clora gasped audibly.
"You bastard!" spluttered Yoko, her breath coming in angry gasps. She reached into her dress and pulled out the knife she had carefully sharpened to a deadly point. "I'll kill you!" The Emperor did not respond, still feeling his stinging check.
"You hit me..." was all Ribo could say at first. Then, "You hit me!"
Yoko just snarled and lunged at her captor, knife-first.
Ribo acted almost on instinct. Faster than Yoko expected, he sidestepped, flowing past the attacking redhead. Then, almost negligently, he threw out a leg and tripped her. Yoko hit the floor and rolled, careful not to stab herself with the knife. She came up again on one knee, ready to stab Ribo until he was a bloody mess.
But he wasn't there. She threw her gaze to the left and right, looking for him. Then she gasped as two cold fingers pressed on the side of her head from behind her.
Her body jolted, and a flash of green flared before her eyes. She was out cold before she even hit the floor.
The wolf-Beastman guard thudded to the floor. He twitched once, twice, blood squirting out from the severed arteries in his ruined, mutilated neck.
Above him, Aumuna Syndras casually licked the blood off of her clawed fingers.
Behind her, several dozen other guards leaked red all over the guardroom.
Behind them, one terrified digger stared, eyes wide, at the results of seven minutes of slaughter.
"You...you killed them," he said in an almost-whisper. "All of them."
"Yeah, what of it?" stated the Beastwoman nonchalantly. "There weren't that many of them." She leaned down and picked up the guard's rifle, and tested it. "Looks like they weren't outfitted with whatever weapons Lordgenome used to take me down the first time." She spat out an offending bullet that had caught her in the mouth. "Lucky me."
"You...I..." Simon spluttered. "Did you have to...?"
Aumuna blinked at him for a second, then gave an understanding grunt.
"Oh, I see. You're not surprised at the level of carnage. It's the carnage itself." She sighed and rolled her shoulder, a bullet popping out as she did so. "What kind of rebel are you? You haven't even killed anybody before?"
"Well...yes..." Simon thought of the number of Ganmen he had shot down. He couldn't come up with even a rough estimate. But those had been Ganmen. He hadn't seen the pilots, burned, crushed, mutilated, snuffed out in an instant by his and his comrades' weapons. He'd never thought of them as being piloted by people. He flashed back to his fight with Lordgenome, the one time he had ever fought somebody in person. It was all a violent blur, in retrospect.
"Then get over yourself!" ordered Aumuna. "You'll be killing plenty more if you want to get anything done. Hell, you might even work your way up to making yourself a list of people youwant to kill. I know I got a couple of bastards I'd like to maim, burn, or otherwise injure."
She went about the room, looting the corpses for ammunition and weapons. After having loaded up considerably, she turned to leave. Then, unexpectedly, she whirled about and pointed a finger at the dumbstruck digger.
"Listen up, Shimo - I mean Simon! You can't win a war with that kind of flimsy attitude! We're here to win, and nothing else!" Her eyes burned with passion. "It's kill or be killed! Every enemy you take down is one less bastard intent on killing you, your best friend, your mother, your father, your little sister, your baby brother, and your next-door neighbour! Do you want all of them dead?" She shook her head. "No! You have to be realistic! Can we avoid hurting everyone? Can we take away their weapons? Can we talk them into submission? No! Not in this world! The Spiral King won't rest until they're all dead, you and your rebel friends! By coming up to the surface, you made a decision you can't take back! Fight proudly or die disgracefully, those are your options now! And if you can't fight, then I'll end your misery here and now!"
The Beastwoman stared him in the eye, daring him to say otherwise. Simon stared back, his fear oddly fading. Something about what she said, the way she said it, reminded him of...
She suddenly nodded in satisfaction, deciding that he wasn't going to take her up on her offer. She whirled about and prepared to stride out and face the hordes ahead.
Then a sealed door with the label "STORAGE" caught her eye.
She marched over to it and kicked it. The metal door burst inwards like a crumpled piece of tin foil.
"What are you doing?" asked Simon curiously.
"The good stuff is always kept in the side rooms!" said Aumuna cheerfully. Then, "Holy crap, they actually kept them?"
Simon moved Lagann over to see what was going on. Then Aumuna jumped out, brandishing a pair of twin blades, longer than her arm. One was hilted in a fiery red, and the other an icy blue.
"Oh, yes!" she exulted, spinning them expertly. "Still in good condition! I knew that chest had something good in it! Chests always have the good stuff."
"Swords?" uttered Simon confusedly.
"Not just any pair of swords!" She grinned happily and caressed them gently, holding them close. "They're Diamond's Edge and Hellfire's Fury, or Shiva and Ifrit as I like to call them."
"So, one's fire, and the other's ice?"
"Nah, they're pretty much the same. I just thought the names sounded cool." She purred as she fondled the handle of the red-hilted one lovingly. "This bad boy and his sister have seen me through just about everything. I thought they'd been melted down. I wonder..."
She dashed back in. When she re-emerged, the swords were strapped to her waist in a pair of beautiful scabbards, one on each side.
"I don't know who decided to keep these," she said, "but I owe them big time. Providing they aren't dead of course." She whirled around again and marched towards the door.
"Things are going to get pretty hairy from here on out," she called over her shoulder as she left. "Consider picking up a gun or something. It's not like there'll be racks of weapons lining the walls of this place..."
Yoko woke gently, as if she had only been sleeping. For a moment she thought she was in her room on Dai-Gurren again, and she'd have to get up and help Simon plan the next attack, the attack on Ribo's army, that would end the war...
Then her eyes snapped open, and she remembered that she wasn't on Dai-Gurren.
She flung herself up into a sitting position and stared about wildly. She hadn't even moved from the ballroom. But it wasn't as she remembered it. The band was gone, and there were, oddly enough, several weapon racks scattered about the room.
A quick glance downward revealed that she had been changed. The annoyingly heavy ball gown had been replaced with her familiar, comfortable bikini and minishorts. Somebody had changed her in her sleep, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.
"I see you're awake."
Looking around to the source of the voice revealed Ribo, standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed. He too had changed his outfit, into a utilitarian pair of grey pants and a plain, white shirt. He appeared to be engaged in pulling a pair of gloves onto his hands. Yoko couldn't tell what was going on, and that frightened her.
"Your outburst during our dance was...most unpleasant." There was a tightness to his voice, as if he were trying, with some difficulty, to hold something back. Finishing with his gloves, he turned to her, and Yoko found out what it was. Though his face was impassive as he looked down at her, a barely restrained fury burned deep within his cold, green eyes.
"I believe your lessons have given you some degree of confidence. As such, I believe it prudent to give you a very special lesson."
Yoko rose to her feet, slowly, as if she expected Ribo to break at any moment. She was afraid to take her eyes off of him.
"I'm not one to patronize my students, however. During this special lesson, you will have access to many materials. Such as these." He waved his hands to the various weapons around the room. "Also, I will refrain from using any of my abilities beyond that of an ordinary human." He practically spat the word. "Only these." He raised a hand and curled it into a fist, and the glove around it stretched audibly. "In essence, we will be equals, you and I. And as you will see..."
He flung his arm out for emphasis, and his face shifted into a scowl, his eyes narrowing.
"I will still be better than you."
Yoko backed away, towards the nearest rack of potential defensive items.
"You have twenty seconds to choose your weapon. Go."
Despite her fear of turning her back to him, Yoko scrambled to the weapon rack. There were no guns, obviously, as that would completely ruin Ribo's little game. That is, if he was still thinking of it as a game. Or perhaps, he now thought of himself as the referee, penalizing a player.
Yoko pushed aside the distracting train of thought and tested the edges of some of the bladed weapons with her thumb. They were sharp, strangely enough; she hadn't expected Ribo to give her any sort of advantage. She wasn't as well versed with regular weapons as she was with guns, but that didn't mean she was untrained. And, she figured, she could improvise to fill in the gaps.
"Time's up. En garde."
Yoko quickly snatched up a short, double-edged sword and whirled just in time to block Ribo's opening attack. He moved fast, covering the length of the ballroom in mere seconds to strike at Yoko with a clenched fist. Yoko couldn't get her sword up in time to block and instead used her other arm, her left shoulder creaking under the impact. Batting away Ribo's arm, she brought up her sword to stab. The young Emperor leaped away before she could get him, springing back towards the centre of the room.
"Have it your way," growled the redhead, her rage suddenly flaring. "I've been itching to kill you for weeks, and if you're going to give me the chance, I'll gladly take it!"
The war would be over. It would be over in minutes. And, most importantly, the little bastard would be dead.
She reached around and grabbed a second sword. She charged, swinging them at Ribo.
He was thoroughly unimpressed. Ducking under one slash, he parried the next with his left arm while striking with his right. Yoko was sent skidding across the polished marble dance floor. She coughed several times, trying to regain the wind Ribo had knocked out of her.
"You see?" said the young Emperor coldly. "You are no match for me. Submit yourself to the will of your master."
"Always with the same bullshit..." grunted Yoko. "Whoever said that you were better than humans? 'Cause they lied!"
Ribo said nothing, but fell back into a fighting stance.
Yoko rushed him again, but this time, she was smarter. Instead of attacking head-on, she feinted, causing Ribo to react to nothing. She used the opening to strike with both swords, scissoring at Ribo's head.
...Where Ribo's head should have been. But he had disappeared. Sensing something above her, she looked up just in time to see Ribo crashing down from above. She ducked out of the way as Ribo came down fist-first, missing her by a hair. The strike caused cracks to spider out across one of the tiles. Suddenly she remembered how Nia had managed to split the watermelon in one blow. At the moment, it was a strangely chilling memory.
In any case, Yoko wasn't one to waste an opportunity, and she lashed out again, hoping to damage Ribo before he could counter. But, using the hand on the floor for leverage, Ribo spun and kicked her, sending her flying again. This time she hit the floor hard close to one of the weapon racks, losing hold of her swords, which skittered across the floor.
"No Nucleotype powers? That's bullshit!" yelled Yoko angrily. She climbed to her feet.
Ribo was already there, winding up for another punch. She dove out of the way and rolled as a portion of the wooden rack was turned to splinters. Yoko retreated towards another rack, Ribo chasing after her. Reaching the rack, she pulled out a bow and a quiver full of arrows.
"Now this, I can use!" she exulted, remembering the bow she'd used for hunting before they'd let her handle a rifle. She scrambled backwards to gain some distance while drawing an arrow back. As the feathers brushed against her cheek, she desperately tried to remember those days she'd spent pegging flying raccoon-squirrels with tiny wooden arrows.
She let the arrow fly. It zipped towards Ribo, faster than she could see.
But apparently not faster than Ribo could see, because he flicked out an arm and deflected it into the wall, where it shattered.
"Oh, come on!" Yoko cried. She loosed arrow after arrow while trying to keep her distance from Ribo. Eventually, however, he closed in on her, and she was forced to block another punch with her bow. It snapped in two, leaving Yoko with two broken pieces of wood attached by a piece of string. Thinking quickly, she whipped it out like a makeshift flail, hitting Ribo in the arm. It came back around, and she whipped it out again, trying to catch his neck with the string. Ribo caught it and pulled, dragging the other end out of her hand. Yoko reached over and pulled down another weapon rack to slow Ribo down as she retreated again.
"Such cheap tricks will not stop me," he intoned, stepping over the mess of various weapons.
"I wasn't really counting on it..." muttered the redhead. Reaching yet another rack, she searched it for a suitable weapon. Ribo was growing closer, slowly, as if he were toying with her.
"To hell with it!" she yelled, frustrated. She picked up a random knife and tossed it at Ribo. It spun end over end at the young emperor, aiming for his heart.
He simply raised an arm and deflected it. With a metallic ring it spun off, shattering against the wall.
"Oh, what the hell! Now you're just cheating!" called Yoko angrily.
Ribo rolled up his sleeve, revealing a metallic arm guard strapped to his forearm. He dropped the sleeve again and regarded Yoko in an eerie, emotionless way.
"You didn't think I would give you all the advantage, did you?" he said, as if he were stating that it was rainy out. "You bitch."
Yoko was temporarily caught off-guard, but quickly recovered. She pulled a spear out from the rack and calmly levelled it at Ribo.
"You rat bastard," she said, just as calmly, and charged.
It didn't work, of course. She hadn't expected it to work. Ribo sidestepped and grabbed the haft of the spear, wrenching it out of her grasp. Yoko had anticipated this. She dodged his counter by ducking and rolling around him, towards the pile of weapons she had scattered earlier. She grabbed the first thing she could find, a ludicrously long claymore, and pulled it with her as she got back to her feet.
"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" she roared, swinging it with all of her fury, all of her frustration, all of her raw hatred for the man in front of her.
Ribo was caught off-guard this time, both by the attack and the sheer wall of hatred that Yoko was exuding. He reacted slowly, bringing up the spear to block. The claymore hacked straight through it, sending splinters everywhere. Ribo was surprised, and it was too late to bring up his other arm to block. As the claymore swung at his head, he fell back, hoping to dodge in time.
The blade caught him in the ear, slicing off most of the cartilage and ruining the wireless implant inside. Chunks of his aquamarine hair were sheared off, and sent spinning through the air as he gave a shriek of pain.
Yoko finished her swing, panting from exhaustion. The claymore rested with the tip on the marble floor, and Yoko found she didn't have the strength to lift it again just yet. She waited, wary, for Ribo's reaction.
The Emperor slowly pulled himself back upright. His eyes were blank, uncomprehending. For a moment he just stood there, wondering why half of his face suddenly felt hot. He slowly, cautiously brought up a hand to his face, and felt around for his ear. When he brought it back in front of him it was coated scarlet. His eyes bulged in shock.
Yoko smirked at first, but her pleased expression of victory slowly dropped away as she sense something.
"You hurt me...again..." he whispered. His vision went in and out of focus, his eyes going wide and his pupils contracting.
Yoko backed away slowly, warily, keeping the claymore in front of her.
"How dare you...hurt me...a king..." Ribo looked at her, his eyes wild.
"None can hurt me! I am destined to rule! The earth and sun and moon and stars! All of it!" His other hand clenched around the remains of the spear, and a crunching sound rang through the eerily silent ballroom. "How dare you oppose me? How dare you seek to harm your destined ruler? The strongest man in this world! The gall! The nerve! The audacity! How dare you! How dare you!"
He turned to Yoko, and she flinched instinctively.
"How dare you...YOU VERMIN!"
His eyes flickered green, then lit up with an emerald glow. He roared in rage, and Yoko backed away faster, sensing his extreme fury. She could practically see a seething aura around him.
"Kneel!"
He rushed her, much faster than she had expected. She swung the claymore desperately, hoping to catch him. He blocked it with one arm, and the vibration sent shivers down Yoko's arm. With his other arm he grabbed the blade and crushed it in his hand, the steel rending like so much tin foil. Yoko abandoned the claymore and retreated yet again as Ribo tossed away the ruins of the mighty sword.
"SUBMIT!"
Deciding that defence was probably superior to offence at the moment, she grabbed a shield that lay on the ground and brought it up. Ribo fired off a devastating side kick, and the impact sent Yoko flying to slam against the wall. She landed on her feet, however; despite the pain creeping across her body, she stood her ground. Wiping some blood from her mouth, she stared Death in the face and smiled.
"Izzat all you...all you got?"
Ribo answered by flashing forward and grabbing her by the throat, slamming her against the wall. Yoko gasped as her windpipe was crushed, but stared defiance straight into the glowing green eyes of her captor. Ribo whirled and tossed her, and she slid across the floor. A knife that was lying there put a deep gash in her upper arm and stuck there. With no regard to the pain or her own safety, she ripped it out, and a gush of blood soaked her arm. Reaching out, she grabbed a sabre that lay next to her. With the knife held in a reverse-grip in her left hand and the saber in her right, she faced down Ribo as he advanced slowly, ominously.
"Come here, you bastard," she spat. Blood mixed with her saliva spattered the floor.
Ribo held little back. He opened with a fearsome series of jabs, which Yoko dodged and parried with her knife, replying with slashes of her sabre. Then Ribo transitioned to a snapping upward kick that almost caught her in the chin and left her open. He brought it down again, hitting her in her sword hand and knocking the sabre out of her grasp. Yoko tried to attack with her knife, but he caught her hand, spun, and savagely planted an elbow in her ribcage. Yoko gagged on blood as she heard several of her ribs snap clean in two. Ribo spun again and sent a back kick to her head. She staggered backwards, but this time, she did not stand tall. She sagged to her knees, her head falling forward, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and from the slash in her arm.
"You've got admirable endurance, little bitch," snarled Ribo. "I'll give you that. Most men would be dead by now. Hell, most Nucleotypes would be unconscious at least. Why are you not dead? Why do you not relent? Why do you not give up when you face a foe of such overwhelming capability?"
He walked forward, cracking his knuckles, and slapped her.
"Answer your master, bitch!"
She didn't respond. He kicked her in the side.
"Answer me!"
Yoko spat again, her blood staining the white marble red, and managed to gurgle out three words as her defiant yellow pupils stared into his raging emerald and purple eyes.
"Go to hell."
Ribo's knee slammed into her forehead, sending her sprawling backwards. This time, she didn't get up.
Deep within the bowels of Centrallio, a Beastwoman and a miniature Ganman stalked down a darkened corridor.
"Oh for Christ's sake, could you be any louder?" hissed Aumuna Syndras irritably.
"I can't help it! It's the machine, not me!" whispered back Simon. "And who's this 'Christ' anyway?"
"Main character in a book I once read," explained Aumuna nonchalantly. "A lot of other characters in other books liked to say 'For Christ's sake!' or just 'Christ!' I guess they all read the same books. Now get down and be quiet!"
Lagann couldn't crouch down much lower than it was standing, but Simon tried his best anyway. Ahead of him his new companion bent down low and moved forward in complete silence, one hand on the sword that hung on her left hip. Ifrit, thought Simon; or was it Shiva? Her long, golden tail swayed back and forth silently behind her as she approached the corner ahead. She stopped right at the edge and became completely still, like a statue in the shadows. A feeling of tension radiated out of her, as if an infinite amount of violence was just waiting to be released.
Soon a light approached them from around the corner. Simon listened to the footsteps as they came closer: thump, thump, thump, the heavy sound of the armoured boots the guards wore. Within moments the pair of guards were so close that Simon could hear them talking to each other. And then they were in sight.
Aumuna pounced, unleashing her violence upon the hapless soldiers.
Seconds later, she was bending down to wipe off her blade on one of the fallen guards. Quick, brutal, efficient; Simon stared at her in awe and terror.
"You look like a frightened deer," pointed out Aumuna as she carefully slid her sword back into her scabbard.
"What's a deer?" asked Simon. The lioness gave a sigh.
"Kid, you need to read more."
They set off again, sneaking down the hallway. Simon wasn't so good at it, as Lagann was about as quiet as your average piece of complicated machinery, but Aumuna insisted on it all the same.
"Why do we have to sneak around like this?" asked Simon.
"So that the guards don't sound the alarm," replied Aumuna quietly.
"But you...killed...all of the guards in that one room. Why haven't they sounded the alarm yet?"
"I'm fast, kid. If any of them managed to send a message, it was a quiet gurgle, nothing more. I also took down this part of the power grid; they think there's been a mechanical error. Thus the guards coming down here with flashlights."
"Oh," said Simon simply. He'd wondered why the halls weren't illuminated properly.
Eventually the darkness began to seep away, diffused by a light source up ahead. Aumuna signalled to Simon to be even quieter than normal, and they crept out into the light.
They found themselves in a massive cavern, perfectly circular to the point where it became difficult to judge distance. Here and there were scattered small, square buildings, like a giant set of dice, thrown there by some gambling god. It was impossible to tell how the cavern was lit; Simon assumed the lights were too high up for him to see. The only other remarkable feature was the rings set in the floor, metallic in appearance. They were set one within the other, shrinking inwards, towards a giant stone pillar in the centre. Simon tried to count; there were about ten in all.
Silence surrounded them on all sides, boxing them in with a wall of noiselessness. It was a strange experience for Simon; it was reminded him of when he had first gone to the surface, only he knew he was still underground.
"Get used to it," said Aumuna brusquely. "There's about ten of these things, ten hollow cores carved into the island's foundations. Most of the others will be a bit less sparse, but anyway, that's the way things are."
"How do you know so much about the fortress?" asked Simon. Aumuna shrugged in lieu of giving a proper reply.
There was movement at the nearest cube. Aumuna grabbed Lagann's arm and forcibly dragged the mecha over to a convenient stack of crates nearby. They hid behind them, peeking out over the top to see what was going on.
A trio of guards emerged from a door set into the cube. They chatted amongst themselves for a bit before strolling off, apparently on a patrol of some kind.
"Of course there are guards," said Aumuna quietly. "You'd think he'd have let them alone after all this time, but noooo!"
"Who? What?" asked Simon.
"You ask too many questions," Aumuna informed him. "Let's head towards the door."
"Where is it?" asked Simon before realising his error. Aumuna rolled her eyes and pointed.
"You can't see it?" Her finger was aimed towards the other side of the cavern. "I guess your eyesight just isn't as good."
Simon squinted with his digger's eyes. He was just able to make out a metallic glint from the other end of the chamber.
"You see it? All right then." Aumuna stood. "Let's get going."
She led him around the cavern's outer wall, shadowing the guards' progress as they patrolled. They sprinted from cube to cube, hiding behind each one before moving on to the next. Thankfully they were far enough away that the guards couldn't hear them. Aumuna assured him that there was nobody in the cubes to hear them either; how she knew, Simon didn't know.
They were halfway around before anything new happened. Then, the guards changed their route. They turned inwards, towards the rings in the floors. They stepped on them, and a hollow clanging sounded throughout the cavern.
Immediately, a wave of wordless shrieking rose up from the floor. It flowed forward and enveloped Simon, surrounding him in ululations of pain and terror. He covered his ears with both hands, curling up on Lagann's seat, trying to hide from it. Aumuna just stood next to him, her teeth bared in a growl that was inaudible over the din.
Seeing her, Simon decided to try and ignore the screams somewhat. He only partially succeeded; his ears hurt, and his vision was hazed over with tears, but he was able to see what came next.
One of the guards bent down to the floor and gripped something that was too far away for Simon to see. He lifted up a section of the floor, and Simon saw that it was actually a metal grille. Leaning down, the guard grabbed something and pulled it out.
At once the tortured noise halted, cut off as if a knife had slit someone's throat. The silence that followed was enormous, filling the space with its suffocating emptiness.
The guard picked up the thing with one hand, and Simon saw that it was humanoid in appearance. It was difficult for him to see at that distance, but he could hear a vague, burbling whimper. Then there was a round of cruel chuckling, and the whimper intensified. Then the guard slammed the figure into the ground, and the other two began kicking it. The whimpering became a howling scream of pain. Then, suddenly, silence. One of the other guards gathered up the limp figure and tossed it over his shoulder. With this burden they returned towards their cube.
"It isn't dead," said Aumuna grimly. "Would be better if it were."
Slowly comprehension came over Simon. Then he turned to her and asked, "Why don't you do something? Kill them!"
"So now you want me to kill, huh? Well, too bad. It's too much trouble. It's not like before, where I could get all of them at once. If I killed those guys now, we'd be up to our asses in guards, and we've got eight more levels to go."
Simon scowled and looked down, but he had to admit she was right. They continued.
Before they had reached the door on the other side of the cavern, a new set of guards had exited one of the other cubes, and a series of screams had begun to emanate from the cube back near the exit they had come from. Aumuna's teeth were clenched tight, and her tail moved agitatedly.
They approached the elevator. Aumuna pushed the button, and the doors opened with a hiss. They got in.
Then, suddenly, the lioness whipped around, pulled the rifle off of her back, and fired it three times out the closing door. Simon could see the group of guards falling as the doors snapped close.
Simon sat silently, partly in fear, partly in awe. Somehow, he knew something was intensely wrong, more wrong than anything he had yet seen.
"...They're not Beastmen," began Aumuna suddenly, startling Simon.
"At least, not quite. See, before Lordgenome created the Beastmen, there were...others. He thought they were successes at first, but then...well, none of us ever got the full story. Apparently they tricked him, or deceived him somewhat, and so..."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Nobody ever wants to work down there. It's about as far from civilisation as you can get...not counting myself, of course. On top of that, there's nothing to do." She smiled grimly. "Of course, that's not to say that there aren't benefits. For the right kind of person, well...this is the best job in the world."
Simon was silent as the implications sank in. For a time there was nothing but the creaking of the elevator as it went about its work.
"Those bastards are the ones who should be in cages," he said finally.
"Kid, you have no idea how often I've thought that myself."
The elevator reached its destination with a cheery ding. The elevator doors slid open again, just like the last two times.
As they did so the temperature suddenly jumped up into a range reminiscent of the hottest days out on the wastes.
"What the hell?" gasped Simon as he felt the moisture sucked out of the air by the dry heat.
"Ain't it great?" sighed Aumuna, stretching. "I can already feel those twenty-year-old kinks coming out of my muscles."
Ahead of them stretched yet another giant cavern. This one, however, was much less barren. Ringing the cavern was a giant moat of magma, the likely source of all the heat, and at periodic intervals sprouted tall metal pipes whose function was not immediately evident. At the centre of the moat was an island, and on the island was, surprisingly, a small forest of what appeared to be trees, at the centre of which was a stone column similar to the one he had seen in the level below.
"Why are there trees down here?" asked Simon.
"They aren't trees," said Aumuna flatly. "Now come on, we've gotta move fast. I don't know how long it'll be before they discover those three guards I shot down."
The Beastwoman and the Ganman ran across the bridge spanning the moat. The moat was much larger than Simon had thought, and as they ran, he began to wonder what, exactly, was the purpose of it.
Then they got close enough that he could make out what the "trees" actually were, and he almost retched.
The forest consisted of thousands upon thousands of wooden crucifixes, strewn out haphazardly like actual trees in an actual forest. They were of differing heights, some higher than others, but all were at least three times as tall as Aumuna. Atop each one was nailed a Beastman, each one moaning in pain and agony.
"They aren't trees," said Aumuna firmly. "Come on, we don't have time!"
She led him under the canopy of crosses, weaving in and out among the posts of wood. Simon continued looking about, gazing up at the poor, mutilated Beastmen. Some gazed down at him, their eyes showing neither hope nor fear. Only emptiness.
"We have to help them!" shouted Simon at his companion, who had pulled ahead.
"They're useless!" called back the Beastwoman. "I can tell you from experience, none of them are going to be in a condition to run, let alone fight. Leave them."
"But we can't...I can't just..."
"This is what happens to those who defy the Four Divine Generals," said Aumuna. "This is where they send those that get on their bad side. I've seen a few comrades off to here myself..."
Simon asked the inevitable question. "So what happens to those who defy the king himself?"
Aumuna stopped and pointed up. Simon followed her finger, up the pillar to the very roof of the cavern. There he could just make out a network of grey cubes.
"Cages, all of them," informed Aumuna. "Attached to the pipes that run the magma down to the moat. They get leaky sometimes, you see, and it wouldn't do to have this lovely forest catch fire..."
Simon wondered why he bothered to keep asking for details.
"Anyway, let's keep-" began Aumuna, but she was cut off by the shrill blaring of an alarm cutting through the hot air.
"Oh, crap," she swore. "Guess they finally clued in."
Strange shrieks filled the air as Aumuna picked up the pace, almost sprinting through the forest of moaning prisoners. Simon looked behind him - far behind, back in the direction they had come from, winged creatures were pouring out of an opening set high up in the wall.
"Flying Beastmen?" asked Simon wonderingly.
"God, you're such a hick!" burst out Aumuna angrily. She continued her hell bent sprint to safety.
But they wouldn't get out without a fight. Soon, one of the Beastmen appeared before them, flitting down from above. Upon closer inspection, Simon realized that it wasn't a Beastman - it was a Beastwoman, with great, feathery wings where the arms should have been, moulting sickeningly. In place of feet were large, sharp talons, and covering the chest and waist was a coating of sickly-looking down. It screeched menacingly and swooped down.
In a heartbeat Aumuna's sword was out and tracing a gleaming arc in the air. In the next, the winged Beastwoman's bleeding corpse thudded into the ground.
"Damn harpies," grunted Aumuna. "Don't just stand there, keep moving!" She sheathed her sword (but not before wiping it clean) and unslung the rifle from across her back. She flicked a switch on it and held it at the ready as she continued running.
More harpies dove down after the first, screeching that ear-piercing cry. Aumuna aimed quickly and cleanly, bringing down one after the other with bursts of automatic fire. Many of them screamed various profanities as they dropped, adding several new words to Simon's vocabulary.
Then he began to fall behind. For some reason Lagann was not obeying him; something held him back. His Ganman slowed down as Simon looked to the left and to the right at the bodies of the fallen harpies, both sickened and fascinated at this monument to murder.
All of a sudden there was a shrieking behind him, and he felt claws tearing through his right shoulder. Yelling in pain, he looked up as the harpy screamed overhead. It swooped back around for another pass, its claws out, shrieking blood and death at its prey.
Simon acted without thinking. One moment the ugly bird was coming right at him; the next, Lagann's fist was planted in its face. The thing flapped back drunkenly, obviously confused and in pain. Simon could have used this chance to continue on, to try and catch up without having to kill the thing. He could have run.
But he didn't. His instincts were in full control, and felt nothing as the springs in Lagann's feet activated, sending him sailing up, over the harpy, until gravity registered and the mini-Ganman crashed back down with a double hammer fist attack on the unsuspecting harpy.
Then Simon was sitting in Lagann as it stood over the broken body of the bird-Beastwoman. It breathed weakly, pitifully. Its limbs twitched spastically, as if the smashed wreck of its spine were trying desperately to confirm their continued existence. Simon stared down numbly, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
A crack of gunfire, and a spatter of blood burst from the harpy's head, putting the convulsions to rest. Simon looked up; there stood Aumuna with her rifle.
"You'll live," she said brusquely. She turned and beckoned over her shoulder, and then continued running.
Simon followed her. This time, he found that Lagann had no problems responding.
"Hey, Phives."
No answer.
"Phives!"
Still no answer.
"Dammit, Phives, answer me!"
"I am here."
Viral spun about, the claws in his fingers unsheathing in his alarm. He soon calmed down, and the claws retracted again.
"Phives, you sneaky bastard. How do you move so quietly?"
"How do you move so loudly, sir?"
Viral smiled a bit. Phives' previous mechanical neutrality had been unnerving, but recently he'd been making more and more sarcastically calm wisecracks.
Of course, he probably shouldn't be making them towards his superiors. Viral would have to work on that.
"Very funny, Phives," said Viral. "Even though you know I'm quieter than even you." Both knew that Viral's animalistic stealth capabilities far exceeded the Nucleotype's more human ones. Something, at least, that Viral was better at, though he knew it was only by a thin margin.
"Regardless, I am always aware of your position." The lieutenant's cold, mechanical assertion was just that - an assertion. It wasn't boasting or exaggeration; Phives somehow always knew where Viral was, and whenever he was calling. It was slightly creepy for Viral, who didn't like the feeling that he was being watched.
"I know that already," Viral said calmly. "Anyways, walk with me."
"Am I to be given a mission?"
"Dammit, why is everything missions and orders with you? Maybe I was just bored and wanted to talk." It was a lie, but only an indirect one.
"It will be my pleasure to be in your company," responded Phives. Viral hated the formal tone and language. It seemed like he was always implying something. Like he secretly felt contempt for his superior. Or something.
The pair strolled down the empty corridors. Dekabutsu wasn't that much different from Dai-Gantei, in design. Same curving hallways, same strips of fluorescent lights lining the ceilings. There were more windows, though; that was an improvement, at least. In most areas they were the only source of illumination, as the techies hadn't gotten all of the facilities up and running yet. At least the bathrooms were working, bless the Spiral King's long-dead soul.
"So how are things, Phives?" asked Viral somewhat awkwardly. It was always like this, with Phives; his cool, machinelike demeanour wasn't exactly receptive to conversation.
"Things have been fine," replied the Nucleotype, almost automatically. "If you are referring to my living conditions, they have proved more than suitable."
At least he was offering information this time. And he'd better damn well appreciate his new quarters. They'd freed up a small but commodious suite for him, as befitting his new station as right-hand man to the Emperor's right-hand man. Was he then a right-hand man once removed? Viral shooed away the meaningless thought.
"Well, I can't say your choice of descriptors is the best, but it's an improvement," commented Viral dryly. "You aren't missing any of your old comrades, are you?"
"No, sir."
"Not even any of the girls?" Girls; it was an unfamiliar word on Viral's tongue. The lack of Beastwomen meant he'd never really had the chance to use it.
"I am sure they are doing well," said Phives monotonously.
"Doing well? That's all?"
"Well...yes."
"You weren't...attached to any of them?"
"They were adequate soldiers."
"You're so boring, Phives."
"My apologies. What should I do to appear more interesting?"
"Never mind." Viral dismissed it with a wave. This wasn't going as he had planned it. The more he probed Phives' mind, the more he found the same blank grey machinery. At least the cogs had begun to unwind, if only a little bit, as shown by Phives' newfound ability for humour.
But this was off the point. Viral had called Phives for reasons other than bored curiosity. What he wanted was information.
"What I meant was, well...weren't you attracted to them at all?" asked Viral, attempting to get back on the track he was looking for.
"Not particularly. Was I supposed to be?"
"Well...maybe." Viral couldn't exactly judge the attractiveness of human females.
"I'm sorry, sir. I will try to rectify this problem immediately. What should I do?"
"Never mind!" snapped Viral, not wanting to get into a detailed discussion of the necessary rituals. "It's just disappointing, that's all."
"Oh no, I have disappointed my superior. Will my termination be implemented?"
"You're such a prick. I'm not going to kill you over a personal matter."
"Apologies. I believed otherwise, given the number of death threats you have previously issued."
Viral growled a bit, but Phives had a point.
"Enough of that jabber," ordered Viral. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just jealous."
"Based on previous studies, that doesn't infer that you will not kill me."
"Okay, that's enough." Viral sighed and just decided to push along with it. "The thing is, I just never got the chance to interact with females."
"I do not understand."
"Beastwoman aren't exactly common," explained Viral. "I only knew one, and she was my superior. Divine General Adiane of the Western Aquatic Human Extermination Army."
"Pity. As a unisexual race, you must have been doomed to an endless cycle of regeneration."
"Well, the Spiral King knows I'd rather we were bisexual!" snapped Viral in anger before realising the trap his subordinate had set for him. He glared at the Nucleotype, but he appeared emotionless as always. Perhaps he hadn't actually intended it. Perhaps.
"What I mean is, all Beastmen share the gene for the male instinct. The Spiral King told me himself he hadn't figured out how to get rid of it. But he didn't want distractions, so he didn't create many females."
"So most of you were sexually unfulfilled."
"To put it bluntly..." muttered Viral.
"I see where your jealousy stems from. Simply say the word, and I will do my best to ease your suffering."
Viral stared strangely at his aide, and thought he saw the barest outline of a smile. He hoped he wasn't imagining things. Or perhaps he hoped he did, depending on which part was being imagined.
"I wish you'd stop screwing with my head, Phives."
"I am not screwing with anything at the moment, sir."
"Yes, Phives, you have informed me of that fact."
"Would you like me to screw with something?"
"Yes, actually!" Viral almost yelled. "Find one of your Nucleotype women to screw!"
"I could not do that, sir. They are too logical for me to screw with. And I think they would experience pain if I took a tool and put a screw in any place on their person."
Viral held his head in his hands and moaned at the mess he had gotten into. And he didn't even know if it was intentional on Phives' part.
"I think I may be a bad influence..."
"Pardon me, sir?"
"Never mind!" snapped Viral for the third time. "I was just wondering why the lot of you aren't all like your Emperor."
"Pardon me, sir, but I don't understand."
"Now Ribo, there's an example of proper male instincts. He's practically drooling over that human." He avoided using names, although he suspected that Phives knew about his relation to Yoko.
"Lord Ribo has never drooled over any female," explained Phives curtly. "His only interest is in pure genetics. He has identified the girl, despite being a normal human, as a valuable gene sample, and has thus taken steps to combine it with his own gene pool. Although I can't say his techniques are the most efficient."
"I'll say," snorted the sharkcat. "She's so unimpressed with him that you could use her disappointment as ballast." Okay, so it wasn't his best line, but it filled its purpose. He looked over at his subordinate; there was a strangeness about Phives' neutral expression, as if Viral had somehow misunderstood something.
"Anyway," he pushed on, "he's treating her nicely, to be sure. I'm sure she's doing fine. You see her regularly, right?" Of course he didn't, but that didn't matter. "How's our Princess doing?"
At this point Viral turned and focused on Phives' face, shrewdly searching for anything, any indication. It took him a moment to recognize it, but it was there; a kind of tightness about Phives' features, like a sudden tension had pulled at him. Viral hadn't known what to expect, but now he knew, seeing Phives' normally unfazed expression suddenly change, even if only a little.
Then it smoothed over. "I am sorry," apologized Phives, "but I am forbidden from discussing the Princess with another. For security reasons, you understand."
"Of course, of course," said Viral calmly. "After all, any order from the Emperor automatically supersedes mine. Nothing to be done about it."
"Indeed," said Phives. Viral could almost detect a hint of relaxation in his tone.
"Well, I have business elsewhere," declared Viral abruptly. "I'll see you around, Phives. You are dismissed."
"Thank you, sir."
Viral watched Phives disappear around the corner. Maybe the Nucleotype suspected Viral's suspicions. In that case, at least, Viral could trust Phives not to tell anyone. It wasn't as if it were anything big, but if someone knew, then it could hinder his access to information.
The sudden departure of the princess' tutors...the closed ballroom...Ribo's sudden reluctance to talk about her...It all smelled of secrets, bad secrets, rotting underneath Ribo's fancy robes. In any case, Viral had to find out. It could be important, could give him leverage against the young Emperor. That was his reasoning for this clandestine investigation.
Of course, there was also the little part of him that desperately wondered at what had happened to Yoko.
They were almost to the end. The forest's edge was visible, and beyond that, the magma moat, complete with a stone bridge crossing it. Aumuna picked up the pace eagerly, dashing towards the safety of the elevator.
Simon followed along behind. He hadn't had to kill any more harpies, so long as he stuck close behind Aumuna. Her aim was frightful, almost as good as Yoko's; but while Yoko only ever fired at Ganmen, Aumuna's careful blasts put bloody holes in the flesh of living creatures. Simon tuned it out, remembering the pathetic wreck he had caused. Aumuna's method was more merciful than that, at least.
Suddenly the attacks stopped coming. Aumuna didn't stop, and continued glancing about and through the canopy of outstretched crucifixes. Their occupants stared blankly back down at her.
"This probably isn't good," she muttered. "I don't think I killed all of them..."
Then the screeching started up again. But it was distant, and sounded as if it came from a set of speakers somewhere.
Aumuna and Simon ran onto the bridge as a series of strange objects began emerging from the magma.
They were giant metal spheres, over a hundred metres across. There were no windows in them, no openings by which one might perceive the sphere's inner workings. They glowed red-hot, and magma dripped off of them in red and orange droplets. Set into each sphere's surface was a single door facing the interior of the moat, their handles giant wheels. Several hundred of these spheres emerged along the length of the moat, all facing inward.
The screeching reached another octave entirely, sending spikes through Simon's eardrums. Squinting through the pain, he watched as the giant metal wheels began to turn, and the doors opened.
Hundreds of Beastmen crawled out, panting, sweating, heaving themselves out before attempting to stand upright. Even then they swayed drunkenly, lurching to and fro, sometimes falling. Cats, dogs, lizards, elephants, rhinos, various types of birds, even an aqueous species or two: they were all shapes and sizes, packed into the heavy spheres, tumbling out in twos and threes, sometimes leaning against each other for support.
"The violent," explained Aumuna shortly. "Murder, assault, battery, abuse, even some cases of rape, though I'm not sure how they managed that. This is where they go to spend their days.
The screeching cut short. Then, a new message blared out.
"Kill the intruders!" it squawked harshly. "He who deals the final blow gets his sentence cut in half!"
Then silence.
Aumuna began backing away slowly. "Come on, Simon," she muttered. "This isn't exactly a good place to be..."
The inmates stared at the intruders with hungry eyes. Any sane person would have wilted and cowered underneath the combined gaze of those hundreds of stares.
Simon, of course, stood his ground. He even stepped forward a bit.
"Wait!" he yelled. "We don't have to fight!" He gestured. "We can work together, escape this place as one! We can all fight against our fate! You can all become members of Dai-Gurren!"
They stared at him, unmoved. Aumuna ran forward and grabbed Simon's shoulder.
"Are you insane?" she hissed. "They're murderers and rapists! On top of that, they're half-crazy from dehydration and heat exposure, those that aren't crazy already! Why on Earth would you want them to join your team, let alone expect them to listen to you?"
Simon turned to her with an incomprehensible expression. "I-"
He was cut off by a sound from behind. He and Aumuna turned as one. Apparently some of the inmates weren't quite crazy yet, and had found some way to get to the outer edge of the moat and circle around behind. They stood there and leered at the trapped duo.
To put it bluntly, Simon and Aumuna were on a bridge, surrounded by lava, with both ways off covered by mobs of lunatics and psychos.
"Well, pretending to be stealthy was fun while it lasted," drawled Aumuna, unclipping something from her belt.
"I wouldn't count it as fun," said Simon stiffly. Lagann's drills had instinctively extended themselves.
"No chance of flying us out of here?"
"How did you know Lagann could fly?"
"Well, I meant jumping, but thanks for telling me. So?"
"No, the roof's too low." He pointed to the roof of the cavern above the elevator. It was indeed low, almost brushing the heads of the taller prisoners.
"Well, shit."
"Stealth is overrated anyway. Going up against the odds and doing the impossible, that's the way the Dai-Gurrren Brigade rolls." Simon grinned slightly as part of his effort to project a facade of unworried badass. The effect was more reminiscent of worry.
"I'll say." Aumuna succeeded a little more. In fact, her grin might have even been real. She held up the small, round object in her hand.
"If we're done with this whole silent-death schtick, then I think it's time I went big."
She tossed it nonchalantly. It rolled, bounced, rolled some more, and finally stopped just in front of the mob nearest the elevators.
Then it exploded, sending body parts in various combinations flying everywhere.
Of course the two mobs charged at that point, trying to smash the digger and the Beastwoman to pieces under the weight of sheer numbers. Aumuna unlatched some more grenades and tossed them in both directions, burning large swathes of death in the crowds. She fired her rifle until its clip emptied, which wasn't much, then bludgeoned an inmate in the face with it before tossing it away into the lava. Then, unsheathing her swords, she went whirling towards the elevator. She was War itself, bringing Death to the violent masses with brutal, elegant efficiency. Simon followed behind, not doing too badly himself, drilling holes in Beastmen the way he had dug holes all his life. It was dirty work, but Simon was used to dirt, and the blood and gore that flew around Lagann's protective dome barely fazed him in the heat of battle.
Together they carved a path towards the elevator, a path lined with corpses and the stench of entrails. Simon held off the enemy while Aumuna pressed the button to call the elevator. The door slid open, and they retreated into it. Simon speared out his drill one last time, removing the head of a bird Beastman, before the doors hissed shut.
It was eerily quiet inside the small circular chamber. After so much violence, everything seemed strangely peaceful. Simon deactivated Lagann's dome.
All at once realisation of what he had just experienced hit him at the same time as the smell.
He threw himself over the edge of Lagann's cockpit and heaved wretchedly into a corner of the elevator. Aumuna stood back and watched impassively.
"Yeah, of all the reactions, I figured that'd be the one you'd get," she commented. "Well, you'll live."
Simon wiped his mouth on the edge of his sleeve and sat back heavily in Lagann's seat. He turned his head to his Beastwoman companion.
"Is every level going to be like this?" he asked.
"Not quite," replied Aumuna. "Each level is its own unique flavour. You'll see."
Simon grunted in response.
"So where does the magma come from?" asked Simon.
"From deep underground," said the Beastwoman. "Not too far, though; Centrallio is actually built on top of a long-dormant volcano. There's a magma chamber just a little ways down from the lowest level, and the magma gets piped up around it."
"How did they keep it so cold?"
"Beastmen have the best AC in the world."
"What?"
"Magical machines that blow out cold air."
"Oh."
"Anyway, it gets drawn up around, brought together in between levels 9 and 8, and piped up through level 7 via those giant pillars to level 6. A little gets rerouted to the magma moat, too."
"What do they use it for on level 6?"
"You'll see."
There was silence for a time. Aumuna leaned against the wall, exuding cool aloofness. Simon, on the other hand, sat slumped, trying hard not to think at all. He listened to the sound of the elevator rising and blanked out his memories of the last hour.
"You said Gurren back there, didn't you?" burst out Aumuna suddenly, startling Simon out of his sleep.
"Yeah. Dai-Gurren. Why?"
"No reason." She looked away, at the ceiling.
"You're lying again."
"Whoop-dee-doo, congratulations genius."
"What do you know about Dai-Gurren?"
"Why would I lie if I were intending to tell you?"
Simon didn't have an answer to that one. He decided to drop it for the moment. He fell back to unfeeling, eventually forgetting the matter entirely.
The elevator dinged to signal that it had attained its destination. Simon sat straight again and grasped the controls.
Seven more levels. Was Yoko on any of those levels? He didn't know.
He prayed that Yoko was safe.
Special kudos to Dante, for providing one of the most interesting visions of Hell ever devised.
Words will be up next to all my fellow readers. If y'all are liking this. You may like Words or the fics by 1 over 0 as well.
Also, the side story, Nucleotide: Shades of Gray is out. It chronicles the adventures of Rossiu, Kinon, and of Mito Khan's, like how this story chronicles Simon, Yoko, and Ribo.
Gainax owns Gurren Lagann, all OCs and Centrallio belong to me and 1 over 0.
