Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven

"D'arvit…"

That was all Commander Julius Root could say to what he had just heard, his extensive repository of curses utterly useless in the face of the situation he found himself and his subordinates in. It was a terrible mess, an outright strategic blunder, and as one of the joint commanders of the task force he took it just as personally as he did professionally. It was a blow to his very conscience, though he did not show it to anyone. He merely contrived to display only his anger, made evident in his beet-red countenance and the furious fuming of his cigar. He knew that there was technically nothing wrong with showing other emotions, but he was a traditional soldier, and old habits did not die, especially when he viewed them favorably.

The grizzled elf sat back in his chair, putting one hand on his face while the other took his cigar and jammed it furiously into the overflowing ash tray. He had just finished debriefing Lieutenant Falryth and Master Sergeant Brooker, the officers who had been Captain Short's wingmen on her reconnaissance mission below the South Pacific. They had told him everything that had transpired, and combined with what little intel he had gleaned from other sources, Root had a very unpleasant picture of the overall outcome. He thought of it with a bitter expression on his crimson face. I was a damn fool to make such an assumption…

His orders for a reconnaissance had led to a disaster for his officers. Belenos had anticipated them, his forces had ambushed them, and Holly, being her usual reckless self, had jeopardized her life in order to ensure the safety of her comrades. It was admirable, but Julius was not currently appreciative of such self-sacrifice, not when he wanted his officers to survive more than anything. He didn't want more dead heroes. He did not want to oversee yet another funeral of another brave officer who had made the ultimate sacrifice. He did not want to feel the way he had felt a hundred years ago, not again, not ever. As was becoming the norm for her, Captain Short was becoming a veritable thorn in his side, though a very useful and prodigal thorn. That she would engage a superior foe and brave the collapse of an entire tunnel network was yet another mindboggling act that left Julius fuming, but this time his anger was not at all directed at her personally. He knew that she had behaved well under the circumstances, and her displayed great skill and courage. It was just the consequences thereof that unsettled him. After all, there had been no contact with the Captain for several hours already, ever since the collapse. Julius had written the subsequent paperwork himself, making strokes with his pen that he frankly wished to never do again. Holly was now officially MIA.

It was his assumption that Holly was either dead or in the hands of the infamous remnants of Laconus, and though he hoped it was the latter he could not shake the dread of that very same possibility. Belenos was ruthless, and he would not show mercy, not even to Holly. There was no telling what he would do to her in order to strengthen his position. Morality and reason had no sway in that lunatic's mind, only the madness that had grown from his hatred.

The most current object of Root's utter fury was the very obvious fact that the LEP had no present means of locating Holly or Belenos. No signals were present in the area, and there were no abnormalities to be seen topside in the Pacific, at least not with the satellite imaging. Root had been certain that one of the locators in Holly's gear would give them a lead, and they could thus ride in with the whole taskforce, guns blazing. Such a glorious counterattack was not to be, though it would not have been practical in the first place. Laconus, and thus Holly, were incognito, and what was so infuriating about it was that they did so right under Root's nose. He had a general area to search, he knew that there was a facility accessible from the destroyed tunnels, and yet he could not find it. Hidden in plain sight, the elf thought angrily, clenching his right fist. Belenos really outdid himself this time. Bastard… He moved to retrieve another fungus cigar from his desk, only to realize that he had no more left. He sighed, and regarded the official papers again, reading the lines and details with a cross expression. Currently there was little they could do, until they gained more intel on Laconus' position. Once they were found, however, there would be hell to pay, and Julius would oversee it himself. Though he hated the prospect of bloodshed, he knew that it was inevitable, and as commander he was determined to be in the middle of it, alongside his officers. He despised the sort of commanders who remained safe while they sent others to their deaths; he hated the ever-increasing lunacy of institutionalized warfare.

Feeling the weight of his immense responsibilities pressing down upon him, Commander Root put aside the papers and activated his communicator. He spoke immediately, in a gravely tone that matched his countenance. "Any progress?"

The voice on the other end was that of his least favorite centaur—yet paradoxically, the one he could not do without. "I am currently running more diagnostics than all of those humans' newfangled supercomputers combined. Nothing yet, but I will keep on trying until I find something. You know I will not abandon her out there."

"Neither would any of us," Root said gruffly. With the current crisis, he had had no choice but to bring Foaly on board, letting him in on the classified information that he had been denied for years. To say that the centaur had been pleased would have been the understatement of the century, as he was actually about as excited as a dwarf in a bank vault. That excitement—and all the smugness that had come with it—had been adequately pacified when he had learned of the situation, and most importantly, the threat to Holly's life. To see the centaur do a such a complete one-eighty from self-centered pride to utter selflessness was a rarity that Root had never seen—it was about as probable as seeing a bull troll engage in friendly conversation. Needless to say, the Commander did not find any real reason to regret letting Foaly on board, and many reasons to be glad. After all, that vexatious centaur was one of the few rising prodigies in his field, only equaled by Opal Koboi, the equally as narcissistic head of Koboi Industries. If anyone could find a needle in the metaphorical haystack of the South Pacific Ocean, it was him.

"Keep me updated Foaly," the elf went on. "I have a dozen ships scouring the surface, and if you pinpoint anything I can have them converge within ten minutes."

"Yes sir," the centaur replied, oddly using none of his usual attitude; the crisis had made him extremely focused, melting away even his ironclad hubris. He paused after this affirmation, and then upon breaking through hesitation he asked the question that everyone in the taskforce was desperate to have answers for. "Do you think she made it, Commander? Do you think she's still alive up there?"

Root did not hesitate, speaking confidently despite the incertitude in his own heart. "I have no doubt about it. Captain Short is recon, and recon officers do not go down so easily. She's still fighting, I'm certain of it."

Though Foaly prided himself in being independent, he took great comfort in his commander's words. Being as he was, the centaur sometimes fell victim to worry and overthinking, both of which he was doing with regard to Holly's possible status. The sound of computers and a keyboard being typed upon could be heard as he spoke with a little more firmness in his voice; renewed resolve, bolstered hope, and a flaming desire to defeat the challenge before him. "Right, I'll get back to it then, Julius."

"I am counting on you," the elf said, for once not bothering to yell at the centaur for calling him by his first name. These were troubling times, and everyone was stressed. He set his communicator down on his desk, beside his smoldering ash tray.

Once again he sat silently, his brown eyes looking ahead as he thought about his opponent's moves. Belenos was doing the most logical thing, burning bridges and leaving nothing useful for his enemy to use. Scorched earth, that's what it was, and it came as no surprise to Julius, though it perturbed him nonetheless. Truly, after dealing with nothing more than unimaginative small fry for the last hundred years, it was a sudden and appalling change to once again be against a formidable enemy. All the cards were on the table, not even the wildest of them out of question; he could not afford to lose this dreadful game. Yet in spite of his constant planning, his persistent stacking of assets and pursuit of intelligence, Root felt as though he were fighting with one hand behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes. Indeed, though action was being taken, a part of him understood that much of what would come next relied on Holly, that is, if she was alive at all.

Laconus Headquarters, Island of Taillte

Darkness and light, oblivion and awareness, faded between each other with a surreal rhythm that matched the beating of Holly's heart. Her vision, blurred by tearing eyes and disorientation, came and went in this fashion, giving her brief glimpses of a metal floor passing beneath her. A great numbness was holding her body fast in its thrall, and as a result she could not feel anything, despite the obvious fact that she was being dragged like a piece of dead meat, held between two Laconus operatives by her powerless arms. Neither was her hearing any better, so affected by the withdrawal of being shot with a neutrino, but she could nevertheless hear distorted murmurs and footfalls, which sounded far away even though they were right next to her. It was terrifying to awaken to such a state of weakness, in the very hands of the enemy, but such terror could not arouse any significant response from her body. She could not fight, she could not run, she could not even scream. She was trapped in herself, unable to control her own fate, like a ship cast into a squall without sail or rudder. The very epitome of fear was what she saw in this, and in all of her years she would never forget the might of its clawing touch on her heart and mind.

It was impossible to tell how long passed, for each relapse into unconsciousness could have been seconds or minutes, and the scenery never changed, nor did the motion. It was after a seemingly endless phase of disorientation and weakness that Holly began to regain her senses completely, which brought with them all the more confirmation of her terrible circumstance. Soon her ears let her hear the clear sound of a dozen pairs of booted feet, the shifting of equipment, and the gentle hum of charged laser weapons. The sensation of her body being dragged came next, marked by an agony in her arms as they were used roughly by the enemy to pull her along. There was so much pain, everywhere, exploding into her consciousness as if all that she had not felt during her numbness had accumulated and flowed in at once, like water bursting forth after the opening of a floodgate. She nearly cried out she was so surprised by it, but she bit her tongue to cut off the reflex, and subsequently clenched her teeth together out of pure agony. The last thing to recover was her vision, though not much changed when it did. There was only the gloomy metal floor, and intervals of overhead lights; she was still too weak to look around.

D'arvit… she thought, her mind inundated with anger, regret, and fear. Even a week ago, when she had been at the mercy of Belenos himself, she had not felt this way. It was hopelessness on a whole new level, so brutally unfair and unremitting. She tried to take a long, deep breath to help calm her screaming nerves, but the moment she did so a terribly sharp pain struck in her chest, the right side. Broken ribs, and that meant that her magic was all gone too. Weak, disarmed, captured, and running on empty—a wretched combination of misfortunes.

Holly remained limp in the arms of her enemy, letting them do all the work while her body recuperated what little strength it could. After a few minutes she found enough energy to look up, and when she did she saw the backs of several Laconus operatives, including the bald one who had shot her earlier. By chance alone he glanced back as she did this, and they consequently locked eyes for a frigid moment. Holly glared by default, and all Vepar did was regard her stoically and then look forward once again, as if he didn't care.

"She's conscious," he said after a moment, alerting the ones carrying her and those further behind.

Not a moment later the sensation of charged blasters could be felt at her back—several weapons were being pressed against her as a precaution, just in case she freed her arms, which she could not possibly do anyway in her state. This led to a doubling of her discontent, and she growled despite herself, her anger and frustration breaking through her honest veneer of exhaustion. She expected her foes to react in some way, but they did not. Whether they were amused by her anger or annoyed by it, they showed none of their emotions on the matter, instead remaining stoic and perfectly organized. This was further confirmation of the professionalism of these fairies, as unlike so many antagonistic groups would have done, they did not gloat or seek personal satisfaction in demeaning a prisoner. They followed their orders, down to the letter, carrying out every task with the same competence that was expected of LEP officers, and the fact that they had once been in the same force as her served to make Holly all the more uncomfortable. After dealing with petty criminals and generic villains for years, she was unsettled by the very nature of contending against those who had as much training and experience as her, as well as far more ruthlessness. Knowing this, and feeling herself going ever closer to whatever destination they had in mind, Holly stared at the floor and bit her lip until it drew blood. She didn't even care to see it dripping down as she went, leaving a trail of crimson splotches on the uniform grey of alloy.

Soon she was in a smaller room, one filled with screens and the distinct scent of cigar smoke, and as the door closed behind her she looked up to see a desk before her, and an open view of the island behind it. Between those two things was an elf seated in a high-backed chair, with the glow of the screens accentuating every line on his composed face so that even the wrinkles at the corners of his emerald eyes stood out like deep scars. Holly stared into those eyes, seeing their familiar coldness and feeling the raw, natural fear of the darkness they bespoke. She had seen them before, and yet like the first time she was struck by what she saw in them, bearing witness to the unreality of their subtle yet powerful madness. This was Major Belenos Æthelryth, leader of Laconus—a champion of rebellion, a master of deception, a symbol of the People's warrior blood. Holly could not take her eyes from him, nor did she want to. She held his gaze in spite of its power, silently challenging him and refusing to show more weakness than her appearance already did.

Having come to a halt, the other fairies let go of her all of the sudden. She almost fell on her face, but out of instinct and a sudden reserve of energy she caught herself and, after shaking for a moment, stood up tall and leveled her gaze against her enemy once more. Silence reigned as they regarded each other, each so devoted to their cause, so profoundly opposite in their ideologies. After a full minute Belenos shifted his gaze to Captain Cailleach, who stood to Holly's right.

"Leave us."

Belenos spoke only those two words, yet the gravity of his voice and the power of his countenance made them mighty beyond their simple meaning, grander than a brilliant soliloquy, harder than a mass of steel. Vepar saluted and then nodded to his officers, and together they respectfully left the room, ever the obedient soldiers. When the door had shut behind them Holly felt yet again the distinct feeling of entrapment. She was trapped in the very heart of a monster's vast abode, and though she was not bound by restraints she knew how powerless she was. Nothing but her jump suit protected her body, and the only weapons she had were her the ones she was born with; Belenos, on the other hand, had a heavily customized neutrino sitting on his desk, within easy reach and yet close enough to Holly to taunt her with the thought of trying to take it. Despite the urge, she remained still, knowing that anything rash would only get her killed.

Major Belenos regarded her for a few more intense seconds, and then gestured towards the chair that was to Holly's left.

"Please, Captain, have a seat."

Holly didn't even glance at the chair, and she remained standing, saying and doing nothing but upholding her defiant countenance. She refused to lower herself to his level, to sit face to face, eye to eye. She opted to stand, thereby towering over him by a foot which, though ultimately meaningless to her crisis, instilled a little more confidence in her troubled mind. Belenos didn't show any reaction at all.

"Suite yourself. Standing will only sap more of your energy, and you most certainly need it."

Holly could feel the strain on her limbs as she stood dead still. Indeed, her strength was waning, like the moon does come morning, her body still exhausted and bruised. The pain in her chest was significant, almost making her wince, but instead of letting the agony change her demeanor she focused her mind on Belenos, and this time spoke coldly.

"What do you want from me?"

Belenos did not answer her question outright. He took his time lighting a fungus cigar and, with motions exactly like another gruff elf, took a long pull from it. Smoke curled through the air as he exhaled, and his words, spoken calmly, followed with it.

"You have caused quite a lot of trouble on my island, Captain. No one has ruffled my officers' feathers like that since the old days, when Root was the one doing it. The damage you caused will take weeks to undo, and will cost me a fortune in black market transactions."

"I do my best," Holly replied, not at all intimidated. She was glad to be a pain in the ass.

Belenos' brow furrowed a little, a harder glint in his eyes. "I lost a good comrade as well, though his rashness was far more to blame than your unorthodox piloting methods."

Holly knew that he was referring to the pilot who had died in the cavern whilst trying to chase her. "I did not come here to kill anyone, Belenos. I came here to stop you, and all of this madness, once and for all."

The Major's cold eyes bored into hers, their ominous appearance enhanced by the pall of smoke that swirled around him. "If that is truly your goal, Captain, then you will have to start killing us. We are far too determined to let anything shy of death put an end to our efforts. Our mission is far too important, and for a hundred years we have been walking its path. There is no going back now. This war is all we know."

The elf's words were only the confirmation of what Holly already knew and dreaded. She had seen the look in Belenos' eyes long ago, and had known his radical dedication. Now made all the more evident by his very words, the inevitability of more conflict set in, darkening Holly's mind and bringing morbid thoughts. She hated all of it, all the violence, but she knew that she was bound to continue it. This was the burden she would have to carry, that is if she made it out of there alive. With this on her mind, she carried on, acting confidently despite her circumstance.

"You cannot keep this up forever. Sooner or later my colleagues will find you, and then Commander Root will bring you down. That is a certainty and you know it!"

"You act as if they can simply do a sortie and spot me with binoculars," Belenos said coolly. "I assure you that not even the LEP with its current technology can pinpoint this location. This island is hidden, nonexistent, beyond the reach of your comrades. They may be searching—I have tracked their ships on my sensors—but they will not find you. No one will." He breathed out another swirling mass of smoke, his eyes glinting in the half light. "Despite your outward confidence, Captain, you must know that you are in no position to make demands or statements of certitude. This is a fight that you cannot hope to win, and you are on your own in it. That solitary fight ended the moment you were captured." He leaned forward a little, his face displaying nothing but firm resolve and careful thought. "Your part in this is over."

It was difficult to contain her anger, but Holly did not let herself lose control. She hated Belenos' cold certainty, his arrogance, his unshakable confidence in himself. These were things that she could not stand in villains, in those who stood against all that was good, and she was inclined to say so aloud. Though she stood on weakened legs and felt pain throbbing due to broken ribs, she bore a strong countenance as she spoke her perceived truth. "You're wrong about that, ex-Major."

"Perhaps," Belenos said with surprising honesty. "I never fail to consider alternatives, and I did not approach this business without considering those costs. But what if you are wrong, Captain? What if all of your confidence, your belief in yourself and your comrades, proves to be in vain? That too I have experienced, back when my triumph seemed assured." The smoldering end of his cigar flared as he used it, and then settled into a gentle glow when he set is aside. Smoke and words entered the air, accompanied by the elf's disconcerting gaze. "Back then, when I had the means of taking control of the People's weak government and bringing them to their rightful glory, I was blindsided by an old friend. Your mother, as you have likely been told. Her actions brought everything down upon me, destroying my plans, suffocating my ambitions. She undid decades of work in a matter of hours, and I am not foolish enough to think that you are incapable of doing the same."

Your damn right about that! Holly thought as she held Belenos' gaze.

The elf took one last pull on his cigar, and then jammed it into an ash tray. The embers were smothered, and a faint hiss escaped from the crushed end, accompanied by smoke. The whole time Belenos breathed out a long breath, showing for the first time a little bit of emotion, though too little to classify. He spoke stoically the next moment. "That is why you will not live, Holly. You are too much like Coral, too determined, too dedicated, too dangerous. I admire that in an enemy, but more so in an ally, and you and your colleagues should have never taken up arms against me. We should not be foes, we should be united in purpose, but alas we are not. It perturbs me that you and your superiors fail to see the necessity of my existence, the ultimate rightness of my aims. Your blindness is what has condemned you, and your courage has hastened it."

"You would have us go to war with the humans, commit genocide!" Holly retorted, her fiery temper beginning to rise in spite of her weariness.

"And what is wrong with that?" Belenos replied smoothly, as if he was stating a common fact. "They are our enemies, as have they been ever since the old wars. Hiding like spiritless cowards for centuries has not changed that, nor will it ever. The fact of the matter is that the People have two choices. They can either wait as they are doing now, ever the pacifistic rabble, while humanity grows and becomes more formidable, or they can take immediate action and destroy the mud men before they can match us. War is inevitable, Captain, the only difference will be who starts it, and I am in favor of preemptive action. The humans will discover the People eventually, and they will not hesitate as we are doing so now. They will destroy us."

Holly growled her response, filled with indignation. "Your idea of a bright future for our kind is to become like the humans? To become even worse than they are? Even they balk at the notion of war and genocide, certainly much more than you. Do you even care at all about the lines you are crossing?"

"I care about the People just as much as you do," Belenos stated evenly, his brow furrowed a little as if offended by the other's assumption. "I care enough to do something about what threatens them. I have enough strength and selflessness to sacrifice everything in order to secure their future. What have you done, Captain, apart from chasing petty criminals on the surface and handing out traffic tickets?"

"I haven't lost my mind for starters," she growled.

"You think that I am not sane?"

"I wouldn't sign off on your mental health."

"That's interesting," Belenos said thoughtfully, leaning back a little in his chair. "As one of the few intelligent people amongst humanity once said, doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome, is the very definition of insanity. You and your LEP, the travesty it has become, simply perpetuate a nonsensical cycle of digging deeper and deeper into a state of defense, always giving ground to the humans' advances in technology and exploration. And yet, despite the fact that the People have been playing the same game of hide and seek for ten thousand years, you think that the future will be better? You believe that your cleverness will eventually pay off? You honestly think that the same policy, drafted centuries ago by a dead king, will achieve something different than it already has?" Belenos' expression darkened, becoming a mask of fierce conviction. "You have it all wrong Captain, all backwards like your leaders' perceptions. The People are collectively insane. They have gone mad in their weakness and will remain so until the humans are knocking on their doors with the barrels of their guns. Madness! That's all I see in your pathetic councils, your irrelevant politics, your limp-wristed strategies, and most certainly in your rigid commanders. I, on the other hand, see clearly. I know what must be done, and I know the results we will achieve. And, naturally, I know the price I must pay." He slowly pointed a finger at Holly in an accusatory manner. "You, Captain Short, do not understand what it takes. You cannot appreciate the lengths to which a fairy must go to contend with a foe as cancerous as the humans. You can thank Commander Root for that faulty view."

"He's a good commander, far better than you could ever be," Holly retorted, returning fire.

"You're right, he is," the other said. "He's an excellent leader, but he subscribes to the most outdated of paradigms. He refuses to change with the world, to realize the new rules that we must play by in this grand game of survival. He is blinded by his arrogance—entrenched by faith in the old ways—and thereby blinds all who serve under him. I can see how well he has indoctrinated you."

Holly lowered her head a little, looking downwards at Belenos with a threatening glare. "I'm not as malleable as you think."

"Believe whatever you like, Captain. It matters little in the end. After all, you and your useless police force are not the ones who are going to be responsible for ushering in a new age of dominance for the People. I am content to be that agent of change. If only you did not provoke me, you'd survive to see that day."

"I'd rather die than let you win." Holly said this with surprising ease, and internally she wondered at her own brashness; like one making a lofty promise, only to realize afterwards its true meaning. Belenos was unimpressed.

"Be careful what you wish for, Captain Short. You just might get it in full."

"If that means stopping you, so be it," she growled, further digging herself into that commitment.

This time Belenos shook his head, as if bearing witness to an avoidable tragedy, and spoke with placid tone that was slightly fringed with ice. "You are too quick to throw your life away, just like Coral. She had so many chances to escape, to live, but she carried on in her path, even when she knew that her destruction was at hand. She would not want you to follow her in that respect, but I doubt you will back down, what with that appalling tenacity flowing through your veins. It would seem that you are doomed to repeat her sacrifice, though this time it will be for nothing. You cannot win this war, Holly. You can only hope to survive it."

"I would say the exact same thing about you," Holly rasped, wincing as the pain in her chest grew worse. "Sooner or later you will answer for your crimes."

"Later, I will. But not until then, and by that time my work will be finished. When all is done, I will gladly face judgment. As I said before, I know what I must sacrifice, and I am prepared to do so."

There was not much Holly could say to this. Belenos was adamant in his position, completely immovable, and any words she could throw at him were smoothly turned against her or made irrelevant. There was nothing she could do, but this did not surprise her. She knew that she was on her last stretch, her final legs, and her desperate attempt at defiance was bound to fail. If only she were not so weak, so trapped, so defenseless. Once more her eyes glanced towards the blaster on Belenos' desk—at her only true chance of turning the tide. Temptation came to her, rallied by her fear and determination alike, and so powerful was it that it almost forced her into action. But she stopped herself, after that moment of reckless thought, and returned her gaze to Belenos. She knew that he would be faster than her, and even if he was not, there was a small army of armed fairies waiting just outside the door. Only a fool—or someone who thought Hollywood films were realistic—would try to go for the weapon. Her choice was the right one, as not a second later Belenos smiled a little.

"You made the right decision."

"I made the only real one I had," Holly rasped through barred teeth.

"You chose nonetheless," Belenos stated. He grabbed the neutrino and holstered it, and then rose to his feet. Now he stood at eye level with her, in fact a whole inch taller. "It is good that we were able to meet each other once more," he said coolly. "I believe our last encounter did not offer the right impressions, certainly not for you. But now we both know each other well enough to have clear perceptions. I see you as you are, Captain, and you see me for what I truly am, in the midst of this forgotten place." He walked around his desk, placing himself face to face with Holly, who stood her ground despite her inclination to keep a distance. "Now that we have dispensed with the formalities, I would like to move on to the real matter at hand, the one concerning your fate."

The door opened behind Holly, ushering in the sound of footsteps and charged weapons. A dozen Laconus operatives gathered behind her, though she kept her eyes on Belenos; she could envision well enough their aimed weapons and heartless expressions. With this being the climax of her encounter with a devil, she chose to match his gaze. He waited until she did so to speak.

"Despite my colleagues' opinions, I think that you can be of some use to us, information wise of course. I will give you this one chance to tell me everything about you taskforce's operation, especially what your commanders briefed you on. You are no doubt privy to a certain degree of classified information, which is quite valuable to me, especially since I was forced to kill my informants. If you comply and speak truthfully, I will consider sparing your life, or at the very least giving you a painless death."

Holly knew that the promise was a lie—she had known long ago that Belenos would kill her, and he had said so himself. No amount of conditional promises could change her mind. She knew that Belenos had condemned her already to die in obscurity, no matter what she did now. And so, with that certainty of undoing in her mind's eye, Holly set her jaw and spoke the words that would seal her fate.

"No."

Belenos' face did not change, nor did his voice as he replied. "I knew you would say that. It is exactly what your mother would have said. So predictable."

He kept his eyes on her, but made a slight gesture with his right hand. Not a second later two pairs of strong hands grabbed Holly from behind and pulled her off balance, making her fall backwards into the care of two of Vepar's officers. They locked on to her, unshakable, and began to drag her away. Holly said nothing as this happened—she had expected it—and though adrenaline coursed through her veins she did not fight it. This was something she could not change, but perhaps she would get another chance. And so she was pulled from Belenos' office, and the Major watched her leave with his trademark placidity. He seemed to feel nothing at the prospect of her doom, just as he felt nothing towards the use of genocide. The last thing Holly saw of him before the door shut was him reaching into his pocket and extracting another fungus cigar—a move that was done out of casual habit, or perhaps to stave off a concealed discomfort.

Holly knew that she was going to be interrogated. She could sense it, and frankly it was obvious, what with a small army of armed fairies escorting her into the depths of the facility. They took her down a short elevator ride—which with fairy tech meant quite a distance—and then forced her through a narrow corridor, which was gloomy and bereft of the splendid cleanliness of the ones previous. Here there was the stench of fear, pain, and death; Holly could sense it, intuitively, and like a cold dampness on an autumn morn it made her shiver. With this ominous atmosphere around her, she silently steeled herself for what was to come.

She had no intention of complying, and even as she was shoved into a small, poorly-lit room, she did not question her ability to do so. They could do whatever they desired, she would not break; she would not divulge secrets that they could use against her comrades. This was her resolve, carved in stone, and it protected the sense of responsibility that she saw as sacrosanct. She would not betray anyone, and she would certainly not betray her own sense of right and wrong. When she was finally allowed to come to a standstill, she observed the contents of the chamber that would be her personal hell for the next hour. There was only a metal chair, bolted to the floor, leaving nothing but open space around it. She was not forced to sit in it, in fact she was led by the barrel of a gun to stand beside it and turn around to face her captors. There were six of them, all of which she had not met before, and they eyed her with a subtle darkness that made evident their intentions.

"Last chance to talk," the lead interrogator, an elf known as Lieutenant Elgose, stated placidly, meanwhile holstering his gun and stretching his fingers.

Holly knew what was coming, and spat her words with great animosity. "Go to hell."

A pair of hands held her fast from behind, while Lieutenant Elgose stepped towards her. He stood only a foot from her, and spoke softly.

"You have balls, I'll give you that."

In a flash of movement he drew back his right fist and punched Holly right in the gut. The blow bowled her over, knocking the air from her lungs and forcing her stomach's contents up her throat. She felt her legs weaken, but the fairy behind her kept her on her feet, and so she received another powerful strike in the same spot a second later. This time something broke, and the hands on her shoulders let go. She gagged, both out of pain and reflex, and fell to the floor in a heap, where she lay gasping for air.

"That's for our comrade you killed," said Elgose, looming over her with a scowl on his face. "We've all been wanting a piece of you ever since you raised all that hell."

Holly looked upwards at her assailant, her face contorted by anger despite the pain that competed with it. "Is that all you got, coward?" It was not the best idea to anger them, but she did so anyway, and that began another session of agonizing beating. They kicked her over and over again while their leader stood back to watch. Their booted feet bruised her flesh and cracked her bones, and without magic the wounds remained, made worse with each angry strike that was landed upon her. All she could do was curl up in a ball and take it—she couldn't even fight, and she felt so pathetic. Over and over the painful strikes landed, each once eliciting a sharp agony in Holly's broken body. She could feel three more of her ribs break, her left arm above the wrist, several of her left hand fingers, and even her nose. Blood was soon running down her face; it got in her eyes, in her mouth, and filled her bleeding nostrils with its distinct odor.

"Alright, that's enough," Elgose said loudly. "The Major will have our heads if she dies."

The beating stopped, and Holly felt herself being picked up and shuffled over to the metal chair. She was still gasping for breath, tasting blood and bile in her mouth, and all she could perceive was the pain and the blurred sight of her captors. When they sat her down and secured her hands and feet to metal restraints, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and a sudden outpouring of magic. It was odd, but for some reason they were healing her. The magic flowed through her, mending the numerous fractures and lacerations, and stopped before it could really rejuvenate her body as a whole. When it was finished she looked around warily, wondering why. Lieutenant Elgose answered placidly.

"So that you don't die from what we do next."

He produced an injector, which was filled with a clear fluid, and held it over Holly's shoulder. She knew what it was, but she could do nothing about it.

"We need you to be physically ready for this. The serum is quite potent, easily enough to stop the heart of someone who is already severely wounded, but in your healed state you will be fine. Its effects are also lesser when used on someone who is half dead, so do not mistake the healing as a mercy. Now…" He pressed it into her flesh, despite her fierce expression and growled threats. "How about you tell us everything, starting from the beginning?"

Holly felt the injection as it happened, and was filled with disgust—it was a wretched violation of her mind and body. She could feel it coursing through her, and the odd sensation of it going to work in her brain was truly unforgettable. With her hands balled into fists and her teeth clenched, she tried to resist, but within a minute all of her efforts melted away, collapsing against the superiority of the truth serum. She heard her interrogators begin to ask questions, and despite there being no intention within her to do so, she opened her mouth and spoke openly about that which she had vowed not to reveal. The truth flowed out of her as freely as blood from a severed limb.

This humiliating experience lasted for fifty minutes, draining her of every piece of information she had regarding her taskforce and her commander's briefings. Her captors listened intently, recording all of it on camera and taking notes on their data pads, and once and a while they would interject to ask for clarification. Like some sort of casual conversation it went, civilized and fluid, and it made Holly feel sick to her stomach. There she sat, trapped in a cold metal chair, hearing her own voice and yet not even cognitively involved in speaking. It was as if she were confined to vision and hearing alone, observing an entirely different version of herself from within the prison of her mortal form, witnessing an interrogation that she was not actively involved it. This distance she felt from it, the whole appalling separation from it all, made her all the more humiliated. She had no control, no power, and like a cheap toy she was being used, all of her guarded knowledge laid bare by her own loosened tongue. It was the most demeaning experience of her entire life.

Under the influence of the drug, Holly was not capable of very involved thought, but she nonetheless saw the camera in front of her and deduced that Belenos was watching. While she sat in a confined, smelly room, stained with her own blood and humiliated, Belenos was enjoying the show in the comfort of his office, puffing on a cigar and casually analyzing her words. This would have filled her with an unprecedented fury, but her mind was numbed and her thoughts were cut short. Instead she remained slouched in the chair, speaking flatly and staring ahead with a pathetic, broken gaze, none of which she had the strength to change. When it was finally over, she remained in that inebriated state, and despite the fact that her interrogators had stopped asking questions she would randomly speak about more details they did not care for. Hearing this made Holly want to tell herself to shut up; if she had had the opportunity, she would have slapped herself in the face. But she could not, and so, as she was led through the narrow corridors like a child, she babbled like a lunatic.

This tiring ordeal—which left her drained of mental and physical strength—ended with the loud bang of a cell door being shut. They had tossed her into the bare room with about as much care as a goblin lobbing a fireball, and had left her to groan on the floor. It took almost an hour for the effects of the serum to wear off, and by that time she was on the verge of losing her mind. The trauma of it all was something even she was not prepared for, and now that it was finished she was left in solitary confinement to stew in the terrible memories that burned at the forefront of her mind; they harassed her, accentuating her humiliation with every vivid recollection. More than once she yelled out, cursing fiercely, and on several occasions she banged her own head against the metal floor, overcome by an inconsolable rage. After several hours she simply gave up and lay flat on the floor, staring up at the featureless ceiling and thinking about nothing at all—and yet feeling so much it hurt. Complete silence followed, so powerful that her shallow breaths were loud in her starved ears.

For a long time she remained that way, the very image of defeat, though one could attribute it partially to severe exhaustion. Regardless, she was spent, incapable of thinking of a way out, powerless to change her situation. From her jaded perspective, she was dependent on Root and the others, who may not arrive at all. There was nothing she could rely upon, no certitude to cling to, and being so cast out upon a sea of unpleasant possibilities—including the likelihood of her own death—made her dread grow even stronger. Time passed with this sort of darkness tingeing her mind, giving strength to irrational fear and frustration, but as with all things there is a limit, especially with regard to the hearts and minds of those like her. In the midst of her psychological squalor, a determined voice spoke from within, admonishing her with a strong, demanding tone.

What are you doing Holly? You do not give up like this! You never do, and never will!

This voice called to her from her heart of hearts, originating from the iron core she had developed over years of hardship. It cut through her melancholy, her fear, her anger, and even her immense feeling of helplessness, and lit the fires that had been so brutally extinguished by horrors and failures alike. Holly found herself thinking a little clearer, and she spoke to herself in a whisper.

"I have not given up…not yet…"

Then what are you waiting for, Captain?

Holly honestly had no idea. It was so easy to slip into a cycle of lethargy, to lay still and be nothing at all, and now catching herself in that nonsensical state she wondered, truly, what had been the purpose of it at all. She came to realize how stupid, how pathetic it was to just lay down and accept fate like that; to think oneself powerless in the darkest moments of life, when at those times heroic action makes the greatest difference of all. It made her feel sick at her own weakness, at her rare lapse in character. She glared a little, and her eyes focused now not on the depressing grey of the ceiling, but on the inwardly contrived images of what she had to do. From the murky waters of depression and fear she emerged, rising forth from its chilling waves and seeing, for what felt like the first time, the sun that was her determination. Renewed courage, like rays of sunlight, warmed her frozen mind, thawing it out and letting her training kick in. Almost immediately she felt a rush of adrenaline, a surge of purpose, and a fire burning hot within her very heart. Captain Holly Short, despite all that she had been through, was far from being beaten.

Despite this transformation, Holly ingeniously remained as she was, looking defeated and exhausted on the cold metal floor. She did this for the camera on the ceiling, top left from the door, because there was surely an officer watching her for any indication of a significant change in behavior. As she stared upwards, looking as if dead, she internally seethed. Let them think her broken, let them believe that they had enough power to steal her courage away. Indeed, let them be ignorant of the true strength within her, and unaware of her victory over her own fear and helplessness.

Holly took the next few minutes to test her body. She did not do so overtly, more so barely moving her limbs in a fashion that did not look abnormal. It was quite ironic, how her interrogators had healed her wounds for their own purposes, as that alone left her physically capable. The wounds she had sustained before would have made any plan impossible. This reassured her greatly, because she was an elf who believed that she could overcome any obstacle as long as her mind and body were fit for it. And they were, as ready as ever, or at least she told herself this.

Anyone in her position would now think about how to escape, but she did not. She knew that there was no way out presently, and the only chance she would get was when the door opened next. But even then it would be foolish to try anything, as the guards were not stupid enough to approach her without their weapons aimed and a numerical advantage of six to one. No, she would not get her chance until the very last moment, and she knew what that moment would be.

All down to seconds…life and death…

Holly had no illusions about her life expectancy while she was in Laconus' hands. She knew that they were going to kill her, the only question was when and how. Having already extracted every piece of useful information from her, they had very little reason to keep her alive, and Belenos, despite his evident respect for her, would not hesitate for long. That elf was a pragmatic and ruthless commander; he would not let his own emotions get in the way of sound judgment, and for him there was no reason to keep Holly alive and many reasons to kill her. As he himself admitted, she was too dangerous to be spared.

Let them try, Holly thought as she lay still, exploiting her position to rest her body for as long as possible. In silence she waited from this point onward, calculating what was to come in her mind, planning out her action and considering all of the possibly outcomes. Her training and experience merged together to grant her a clear picture, and with it she contrived a plan of action, one that was borderline suicidal—though, when going up against certain death, it was perfectly acceptable. In the end, like a person hanging by the end of an unraveling rope, she was forced to take a path of enormous risk in order to have a ghost of a chance at living. And even if she did fail she did not want to die on her knees; if her demise was truly meant to be, she would make it one worth remembering. Cowardice had no place in her heart now.

Shakespeare once said that while cowards die many times before their death, the valiant never taste of death but once. For Holly, valiance would soon take her one of two ways—to taste the bitter drink from that fatal chalice, or to taste the sweet nectar of a longer life. Narrow would be its margin, as if by the impartial tossing of a coin, and how high was the cost! It was all or nothing, in this game of survival, and she would put it all on the line for that once chance, casting everything into play in a last-ditch effort. As so many had done before her throughout time, Holly was facing death itself, eye to eye with the imperceptible shade that haunts all who cling to life. It was her intention to win.