Brilliance and Bitterness
Chapter 24: Beginning of the End

It was a month since the end of the tournament. That month could quite justifiably be called utter chaos, and in fact, many were calling it exactly that.

The completed Nova Project had been revealed and then destroyed in a bit under an hour. Many had felt that Kreissack was a little mad (perhaps, more than a little), but the concept of his actually putting his brain inside of a robot took a very long time to grasp. The main lab for the project had been destroyed in a massive fire, and the Major's lifeless body found in a dumpster outside. The shock throughout human-occupied space had been indescribable.

With Kreissack's demise, Shirro had unanimously been elected the new CEO for all of WAR by a board expecting more of the same. A peculiar irony, however: with the victor of the tournament moving on, Ganymede was still without a leader. Colonization was postponed while Shirro worked to consolidate his power base, not to mention dealing with the PR disaster of the Nova.

Angel had spent some time in a coma. Placement of the Gargoyle's reactor and neural receptor ensured that the receptor had been destroyed by the reactor explosion, and the neural shock had not agreed with her at all... Shirro had been genuinely concerned for her and ensured that she received the best care possible. The doctors, however, were very confused by the whole ordeal, as she seemed to simply recover independent of their efforts—though it had taken nearly the full month since the tournament's end.

The competitors had been placed under de facto house arrest in Cheyenne Mountain until Shirro could gauge their intentions. Which many agreed made some logical sense, but it did not make them happy. At the same time, against all expectations, he'd started a radical reform effort within WAR that made quite a few people question his own sanity.

The board, used to their vast influence and cushy lifestyles under Kreissack, had revolted at Shirro's new ideas for a more democratic and consumer-responsive government and corporation. Not to mention they felt betrayed by the man they'd elected. In a move that stunned all observers, Shirro had answered their complaints by summarily dismissing the entire body and searching for new board members who would be more agreeable to his goals.

Naturally, the board had not liked this. They'd plotted revenge...

And that was why Jean-Paul presently found himself sprinting down the deserted corridors of the besieged Cheyenne Mountain complex, Christian in tow. They'd met quite by accident, but it had seemed only logical to team up, considering the circumstances. The younger man slowed him down slightly... but the advantage of an extra target well outweighed that minor issue.

"Armory... up ahead... next right, then left."

There was that, too—Christian had the advantage of four years of being assigned to this maze. Jean-Paul had about three months and had not bothered to familiarize himself with every twist and turn of the complex.

"Awww hell." Upon turning the first corner they found themselves face to face with five of the board-hired terrorists who'd been dispatched to the complex some half an hour ago. Both dove back around the corner just in time to avoid the ensuing hail of bullets.

"Great. How do we handle this?"

"I doubt they come charging after us... immediately."

"So swing back around and start blasting?"

"Let's see... they outnumber us, they're expecting us, and they've got bigger guns. No thanks."

"Then what do you suggest?" Christian watched the corner warily. "They'll outclass us until we get to the armory. Which involves getting past them."

Jean-Paul considered the matter for a moment, then looked at the near wall, where a pair of vending machines stood happily oblivious to all that was happening around them. That could work. He withdrew his ID card and swiped it, waited for the machine to confirm his account, and punched buttons until three cans of soda clattered out.

His partner was giving him a very odd look. "Is this really the time for a drink break?"

"Watch carefully, Christian. It's never too late to learn situational awareness." He picked up one can, shook it vigorously, then shot out of hiding just long enough to fling it into the mass of mercenaries.

There was a meaty thunk and a howl of pain. Better than he'd been expecting, he'd actually hit one of them. Then came the sound of an exploding aluminum can and hyper-carbonated liquid spraying out everywhere.

"Oh sweet."

Christian picked up one of the remaining cans, Jean-Paul the other, and both darted from cover again. This time the enemies were closer, and running, the missile having apparently convinced them that storming around the corner would not in fact take them into the teeth of heavily armed resistance. None of them had the sense to duck as two more soda cans came flying at them.

There was a click as one did, at least, have the sense to try shooting at their targets, but the sticky liquid had apparently gotten into his weapon. Christian unceremoniously shot him as they sprinted past, then they were to the next corridor. Fortunately, as it did hold an armory and all, this hall had a nice set of blast doors to close behind them.

"Soft drink grenades. You're crazy."

"Resourceful."

"Same thing."

It took Jean-Paul about fifteen seconds to hack the lock, which made him feel better, as at least it meant the other side hadn't been in here before them. He slammed the door shut behind them and both men took a moment for the obligatory admiration of mass quantities of firepower.

"Shame. I don't think we can carry all this."

"I wonder if our HARs could carry all of this."

"Your HAR. Mine doesn't have hands."

"Answers that question." Jean-Paul fell silent and picked out a few ammunition packs for his sidearm, a flechette pistol which—he was the first to admit—he carried more for the intimidation factor than the belief he could actually hit anything with it. (It was just that walking around WAR without a sidearm was generally accepted to be unintelligent.)

Glancing up he saw Christian reloading his slug thrower, acquiring a machine gun, then picking up a selection of grenades. "Suppose we oughta take the power armor?"

Jean-Paul looked at the suits hanging on the wall and snorted derisively. WAR had stopped developing human armor when HARs got popular. "You want to wear a death suit that hasn't changed since 2060, go for it."

"Cynic."

"Realist. But, same thing." He shrugged and returned his attention to a selection of darts and throwing knives, but to his disgust there were no shuriken to be found. He settled for taking a few shrapnel grenades from the same stash Christian had looted—and as somewhat of an afterthought, a med kit.

They were off again.

It took another half hour to reach the nearest exit, but reach it they did and looked at each other awkwardly. They had never met prior to the tournament, and who knew what was to come of them now? Yet in battling the Nova, and again for that short stretch of time as they fought their way free of hell, they had been brothers in arms, and that had to count for something.

"Well, I've just learned a few things."

"Oh?"

"One, real grenades make better grenades than soft drink cans, but the cans are more readily available. Two, those armories I always thought were in weird places actually have a purpose. Three, the more firepower you have, the easier it is to leave a building."

"Excellent. I learned that everything, including the hiring of terrorists, is hopelessly botched when you put politicians in charge."

They both snickered.

"Um. ...I s'pose you can come with me if you want. My sister's waiting with a shuttle."

Jean-Paul had to admit it was tempting, but something was tugging at the edge of his mind and he shook his head. "There's something else I have to do first."

They looked at each other for another long moment, then spoke at the same time. "Good luck." And they went their separate ways.

There were, Cossette admitted to herself, certain advantages to being stuck in this wheelchair. Most applicable at the moment was that it offered a lot of space for concealed weaponry.

Being who she was, Cossette had taken advantage of this without hesitation since being stuck in the Cheyenne Mountain complex for a month, and the terrorists who'd barged into her office had been rewarded with flamethrower blasts to the face for their trouble. Now she was quite calmly wheeling her way through the corridors with a rocket launcher in her lap.

Recoil was not an issue. Most people had to take time to brace themselves before firing such a weapon. All she had to do was hit the brakes.

After about the first three groups (how many of these damned mercenaries had they hired, anyway?) she'd started entering corpse-strewn hallways which were now deserted. Many corpses were terrorists, but even more were WAR personnel. She did not allow herself to feel sorrow. That could wait until she had reached safety and could afford such thoughts. Right now survival was at the front of her mind, and when something came around the corner she raised the launcher immediately.

Then stopped. "Angel?"

The young woman gazed at her with eyes that glowed jade green. "You shall not pass, human. I have waited long enough, and now you will give me answers."

Answers? No, it doesn't matter. "Angel, this is not a good time. There's still crazies with guns running around all over the place, if you haven't noticed. So how about we get out of here first and ask questions later?"

Around her the corridor began to shift. Crystals emitting a soft white light sprouted from the walls and floor, though they all seemed to miss her chair. "No. Mere humans cannot reach this place unless I wish it. You will remain here until you tell me what I wish to know."

Cossette could not explain what instinct it was that caused her to lower her weapon rather than pulling the trigger and blowing the mysterious competitor into her component atoms. Somehow the young woman's words made sense to her. "Answer my questions and perhaps I'll answer yours. How are you doing this?" she asked. Her tone was forceful, but not entirely hostile, as she looked around at the crystals.

To her surprise, Angel addressed that question, though it was not the sort of answer she'd been looking for. "You should know that, disgusting human. You have the Ability and do not even honor and respect it, do not even realize what a gift you possess!"

"Ability?"

"Disgusting," Angel repeated, shaking her head. "Your Ability is weak, yet it was strong enough to grant you visions. Visions of the project you call Nova. Visions I have watched from afar since this tournament began."

Cossette actually dropped the rocket launcher at that. "What?" She waited for several moments, trying to wrap her mind around this statement. "You've been watching... my dreams?"

"Of course I have!" Angel glared. "I put it aside for a time, as my mission in your tournament was more important. But now, human, we stand on the mental plane, a place where the Ability has brought you at my will. I am the master of this place. And if you do not wish your mind rent to shreds, you will tell me of this cataclysm, of this Nova you humans pursue!"

It was becoming irritating, really, the way Angel was turning Cossette into little more than a hopelessly bewildered onlooker. But she did understand one thing. She wants me to tell her about the Nova Project? But that's all the media was talking about for weeks after the tournament!

Then comprehension dawned. The other woman had been unconscious for nearly the whole month, and probably hadn't had time to catch up on the news. "Angel... the Nova Project is destroyed."

"Lies. You will tell me why you seek to cause the cataclysm." The crystals around them pulsed brighter and one dislodged, shooting from the wall to tear a wound in her shoulder. "Your Ability is weak and uncontrolled. You cannot hope to stand against me here, on the mental plane, so you had best speak. Quickly."

Cossette snarled in anger at the cut, but the place was so surreal she didn't think she wanted to shoot... yet. She was fairly certain she wasn't dreaming, yet what she was seeing was quite impossible. But then, everything about Angel had always seemed slightly wrong. And why does she keep calling me 'human'? Surely she can't be...

Something tugged at her and looking down, she saw a thread. It was a soft aqua color, extending far into the distance, and along its length it began to shift color until becoming a pure emerald green. What does that mean?

"Answer, human!"

"I already answered you, and you're starting to annoy me." She bent over to retrieve the rocket launcher and as she did so, she felt a chill wind sweep through the corridor. A low cry of rage and frustration that she recognized as coming from Angel sounded, echoing from the crystals, and as she rose she saw snowflakes carried on the wind.

Something flashed in the air, something small and silver, and Angel's eyes went wide. Slowly she reached up, hand behind her head, and pulled a throwing star from the back of her neck. Cossette had just enough time to see there was no blood on the weapon before Angel turned to face its source...

There was a wound, but no blood. Instead silver light poured from the cut.

"Why are you here, human? Have you not endured enough harm on this mental plane?"

"Why are you here, Angel? The battle is over. We have no quarrel with you." A voice, soft and deep and slightly rough. Cossette knew it in an instant. Jean-Paul... but how can he be here?

Angel gazed at him, radiating deepest malevolence. "I have a quarrel with those who would destroy the Life-Giver. Very well. You are here, and this human infected you with her Ability and her visions. You will tell me of the Nova!"

He now looked just as mystified as Cossette had been. "Eh? You went to all this trouble to... ask us why we blew Kreissack to hell?"

"I have not sensed the one called Kreissack since I awakened. Was he eliminated to make way for the cataclysm?"

"Nnno..." Jean-Paul's voice was very low, as if he were more grumbling to himself than answering Angel's question. "He was eliminated because, you know, he was a bleeding psychopath..."

"Angel." Cossette decided to try again. "What cataclysm are you talking about?"

Her eyes burned with fury. "I told you, human, I have seen your visions! I have seen the destruction of the great star—the Nova which rains fire upon your world! YOU WILL TELL ME WHY!"

There was silence in the corridor. In a small part of her mind Angel savored it, because humans seemed to like few things better than hearing the sound of their own voices. But no, she could not afford to enjoy the silence—the humans should be talking, should be telling her why they meant to destroy the Life-Giver.

"Angel." The one called Jean-Paul fixed her with his emerald gaze. "Calm down and let me see if I understand you correctly."

Pathetic humans. Even the genius could not comprehend her simple questions! "Very well." She did calm, for rage was unbecoming of a Tanmari, a master of the mind. "You may do so."

"You saw our dreams... somehow."

"Yes." Not worth explaining how. No sense confusing his feeble human intellect.

"And you saw the sun explode."

'Sun' was their word for the great star C'keir, if she recalled correctly. Such a small and foolish word to describe such an important entity. "Yes."

"And you realized that we were linking it with the Nova Project."

"Yes."

"So you assumed that the Nova Project was actually... trying to blow up the sun?"

She scowled at him. "What else could it be?"

Cossette had been silent until then. "Oh. My. God."

A human phrase of disbelief. Angel wanted to laugh in triumph at the human's surprise, that someone had actually discovered the truth... and yet, what she felt from them both, more than anything else, was sheer amazement. No concern that their madness had been discovered, no fear that she might stop their project here and now. Only shock.

"You're a little confused," Jean-Paul stated finally. "You were unconscious, you didn't see the results... but the Nova Project was completed a month ago."

She frowned at him. "Impossible! The Life-Giver still shines."

"Of course it does!" Cossette snarled, finally losing her hold on her temper. "Nobody was trying to do anything to the sun, Angel, those dreams you're so proud of yourself for watching were only metaphors!"

It was peculiar, Angel would conclude later, how things worked. If Cossette had made any other argument she probably would have merely blown it off, since it did not fit with her preconceived notions, the foolish conclusions she had drawn and then decided must be real. But she had spoken a word, a human word Angel did not know. "A... metaphor? What does this mean?"

Jean-Paul muttered something most humans would have considered vulgar. "What the hell are you?"

"I am asking the questions here, human."

"Yes, and they're really strange ones."

Cossette looked at Jean-Paul and shook her head to silence him. "A metaphor is... well, it's a symbol. We saw the sun exploding and that's what told us we were dreaming about the Nova Project. It doesn't mean that's actually what the Nova was—since it wasn't, it was a HAR with a brain in it, but I'll let you research that on your own."

They seemed sincere. Angel was silent. "A symbol," she repeated finally. "Then... you saw the nova because the project was called Nova, rather than the project being Nova because its intent was to cause a nova?" It was not easy to grasp, yet the more she thought of it the more sense it seemed to make. How... how could she have been so wrong?

I was blind. Terribly blind.

She looked at the two of them, watching her suspiciously. Perhaps they expected her to start shouting again. There was much she wanted to ask them, but right now, all she could think was that the humans could not be allowed to see her in all her error and shame.

Angel inclined her head in what she knew their race considered a gesture of respect. "For your explanation, you have the gratitude of the Tanmari, masters of the Ability and the moon you call Ganymede. I will leave you now." And she flung them from the mental plane, shifting out of her human form and fleeing from the WAR complex.

Misty glanced up at the sound of footsteps and something else entering the HAR bay. Her laser rifle's charge was running a bit low, but she was not in danger yet... Ratchet moved up beside her, holding his shotgun. They had joined forces when it became apparent the hangar was a prime target for the invading mercenaries.

All modesty aside, Misty thought they'd done quite well.

"Hang on," Ratchet muttered, relaxing. "Ain't a threat, I'd know that sound anywhere. It's the she-demon-mobile."

"The what?"

"My boss's chair."

Misty relaxed. Soon enough she came into view, a woman in a wheelchair brandishing a rocket launcher. The image struck her as amusing, and yet so very typical of Cossette Akira that she could not immediately figure out why she didn't carry the weapon all the time.

Then her eyes widened, as Jean-Paul appeared in the doorway.

Cossette was the first to speak. "You two alright?"

"Oh yeah, we're havin' us a happy little party in here, ya come to join the fun or what?"

"We were thinking something more like, we're getting out of here and you're coming with us."

Techie reflexes kicked in and Misty's gaze immediately went to the Shadow. She caught Ratchet staring at his boss's Electra and smiled weakly. Yes, we have our priorities straight.

"Bring the control helmets," Cossette answered readily. "We can jack in and get the HARs out once we get somewhere a little safer."

Getting the helmets was done quickly, but as they were getting ready to leave, a low groan from a corner of the bay distracted them. Ratchet's eyes flashed and he raised the shotgun. "Easy," Jean-Paul cautioned, though his own sidearm was drawn as well. Approaching the corner they saw a male figure hidden—or trapped—or probably both—beneath a large section of the ceiling that had fallen in when Crystal's Jaguar had fought its way out of the hangar.

The man looked up at them with bleary brown eyes. "Delaney, that you?"

"Falks?" Jean-Paul frowned. "What are you doing here?" He and Ratchet moved forward quickly to clear the debris.

"Well, I came to see the fights, like anything coulda kept me away... you made a good showing with my baby, I must admit." He grimaced and writhed out from under the mess of plaster and piping. "Man, that stings... anyway, think I overstayed a bit. Was just wandering around checking out the bots when the whole place went nuts."

Jean-Paul produced a med kit, but Misty quietly wrested it from him before he could do anything with it. Not that she doubted his ability to read instructions, but techs had to take exhaustive first aid training. She highly doubted he could match her in that, genius or not... Falks looked at her with more interest than anything as she approached. "Stay still. I'll inject you with an adrenaline booster until we can get out of here."

"Out of here?" he repeated curiously. "Where to?"

"Still working on that." Actually, she hadn't even thought about it until that moment, but it did seem like a perfectly logical course of action.

Cossette was frowning. "I have a friend in Iron Fist who's on assignment in Kiowa right now, and I'm sure if we happened to show up she'd be willing to help us. Shouldn't take over an hour if we can find a fast transport."

"Ya think our pals with the guns ain't gonna notice some transport just blastin' its way outta here?" Ratchet asked skeptically. "Seen enougha this lot t' think they got the entrances pretty staked out."

"I'll create a diversion for you," Jean-Paul offered immediately.

Misty looked at him in alarm. Such a proposal was actually rather out of character for him, and she wondered what else he was up to... but it seemed obvious that he meant it. "Alone? Are you crazy?"

"That's not the first time you've asked me that, and I'll let that fact speak for itself. Do you have a better idea?"

Falks didn't seem to like the idea much better. "How are you gonna get back and meet up with us then? Awful long way to hoof it."

Groan. "Trust me, Falks, I'm perfectly capable of stealing a vehicle all by myself."

"Yeah, but can you drive it?"

The look on Jean-Paul's face was a sight to behold, and Falks made a great show of hiding behind Cossette's wheelchair. "Unless anyone else would like to volunteer for being the lone diversion, I suggest we hurry up." Nobody offered.

On the way out, he looked at Misty and their eyes met. "You'll have to retrieve Gemini for me."

She nodded. "Understood. Come back in one piece."

"I intend to."