"…That's the word. They want all of them."

"Oh, come now. Certainly they can leave one or two of them behind. Especially the Esthar's Hawks and the Child of Hyne."

"After what they did back in the port city, they want all of them. Dr. Lindst thinks they'll further the research a lot better than the scum we've been scraping off the streets."

"She'll get them…in good time, of course."

"You're going against command?"

"They are, first and foremost, prisoners of war. Therefore, she can have them…after I'm done with them. I'm interested in winning a war, not in science projects, especially ones that have to do with that kind of subject matter. Why the Dictator suffers people like her is beyond me."

"Are you sure it's not just because you want to see them scream?"

"…That's part of it, yes."

Dael's first recollection was this conversation, being said by two different men…neither of which seemed terribly savory, but spoke with the accent of Sybenia. That, and a low, droning buzz ringing in her ears. In particular, the one who seemed reluctant to hand people over to science sounded especially smooth and slimy. He reminded Dael a lot of the officer they ran into back in Follett. She supposed all Sybenian officers shared that twisted mindset and demeanor.

However, as Dael's senses continued to come back to her, she began to realize that she was being bathed in a very bright, very hot light…the kind of which couldn't be generated by electricity. In fact, on feeling it, she soon began to have rather bad memories of the only thing that it could be: the sun over the Pallas Desert at midday. Slowly, her eyes cracked open. Not only was she blinded as a result, but her head was soon pounding. She felt horrible. As she continued to come to, she realized that although she was upright, she wasn't standing. Rather, she seemed to be hovering. Also, her arms were overhead and were anchored and she could feel her body being stretched a bit. As soon as she got enough bearings, she began to weakly open her eyes more and look around.

She was in the Pallas Desert alright. However, she wasn't in the middle of nowhere. Rather, just up ahead, she saw a semi-cylindrical bunker had been erected, as well as several towers and other small buildings. One tower in particular stood tall, and had searchlights and gunners on top of it…clearly a watch tower. And, sure enough, it hung the banner of Sybenia and the Guiding Hand. The area seemed to be fenced off and reinforced with electric barriers, and, before long, she saw not only several companies of troops march by, but also many others going about their business, whether they were servicing technology, cleaning weapons, retooling machines, or just seeming to head over to grab a bite to eat. Several artillery emplacements were within the fence around the camp, and a few other large vehicles calibrated for desert travel were parked there, with one armored transport moving. There wasn't enough there to be a full base, but this was definitely an outpost, and the standards indicated whose outpost it was.

Dael moaned a bit, and turned her head more…only to discover that a thick metal collar had been placed around it. As time passed, she realized the buzz wasn't in her head, but was coming from it. It was rather snug, making swallowing difficult. However, she ignored that as she looked up. Some sort of metal overhanging array had been set up with numerous hooks. She was currently hanging from one by a chain fastened to thick shackles around her wrists. She tried to look down, but the collar wouldn't allow it. The best she could see was that she was hovering about two or three feet over the ground from being suspended, and she could feel additional shackles and chains around her arms and legs. If that wasn't enough, her clothes were gone and had been replaced with what was, essentially, sackcloth with serial numbers on it. It offered little protection against the sun, and she could already tell she was burned.

Looking around a bit more, she soon let out a small gasp in her throat on seeing some of the others much the same. In particular, Taraketh and Bahamut were both hanging nearby. She couldn't see it for certain, but she feared that the others were behind her. She turned her head a bit more, and soon she saw one final thing. About five guards seemed to be idly watching them, all of low rank. They were perfectly calm and casual, smoking and leaning on their guns. In addition, what looked like a minor officer, yet a burly, dirty, and somewhat large one with a bushy black beard and mustache, was talking to a much higher-ranked officer who had paid so much attention to dress that he was overclad for the heat and was sweating. Nevertheless, he had a cruel, calculating look about him, and Dael knew at once it was the one who spoke with the voice she didn't like.

As she looked around a bit, however, the lower ranked officer cast her a glance, and turned fully to her. He soon gave a snicker.

"Look who's up." He stated. He turned to the men. "Seems I lost the bet. My money was on the butch girl dressed up for the Holiday pageant."

With that, he turned fully to Dael and walked up to her. She glared at him coldly the entire time, but said nothing. Soon, she realized that she was indeed a few feet in the air, as his head came down rather low. He chuckled again.

"You Esthar people…you're so naïve." He stated as he looked her over…in particular her chest. This made Dael tighten her fists in her shackles, but she could do nothing. "You've grown so soft and weak you think war is now a place to send little girls instead of men." He paused at this, looked to Bahamut momentarily, and then looked back to Dael. He snickered again. "You even send children against us. And we are supposed to consider you our main enemies?"

With that, the low officer hesitated a moment…then reached out and groped Dael. Instantly, she stiffened up again, her teeth clenching. She instantly tried to call to mind a teleport spell. Teleporting out to wrap her chain around this man's neck and snap it would almost be worth getting shot by the other five guards. However…it was no good. She realized the collar around her neck must have worked just like the Eris Bells. Thankfully, he only did it a moment before pulling back.

"Well, young lady…" He said with a smile. "You are the first to wake up. Congratulations. Here is your prize."

Dael's eyes bulged and she spasmed and coughed a moment later as the officer smashed his fist into her stomach for all he was worth. All of the air rushed from her lungs, and Dael immediately went limp in the restraints again. Normally, her enhanced body would have shrugged off a punch from this man. But the Eris Bells seemed to be negating her junction as well. If she had the air, she would have cursed at herself and her own weakness.

At any rate, as she gasped for air and hung there, swaying a bit from the blow, the officer turned and walked over to the side, back to the other guards, who by now were snickering a bit at her. On reaching them, he took up some sort of device from an old steel drum set up there like a table. He turned back to Dael and pointed it at her, revealing it was some sort of remote. He pressed a button on it. Moments later, Dael felt vertigo as the chain overhead suddenly retracted, and the chains yanked her body down and dropped her unceremoniously into the sand in a heap.

Still coughing and trying to catch her breath, Dael lay there a moment. It was a miracle she moved her arms out of the way, or the heavy metal shackles, which had to weigh a good 15 kilograms, would have clonked her on the head. She hated how weak everything felt without her junction…although, she had to admit, being burned, dehydrated, weary, and, she now realized, hungry didn't help. As she lay there, she heard the guards get up. No doubt, they were training their guns on her now that she was "free". However, she had no intent of resisting…not yet. She realized how futile it was in her current state. And obviously they weren't going to kill her anytime soon. She began to realize that conversation had been directed toward her and those with her.

Weakly, Dael managed to elevate her head and look back to where she came from. Sure enough, to her displeasure, she saw that the others were there as well, dressed much the same. Everyone except Jalab... They were all still unconscious. However, Ceja was now beginning to stir. Even after having taken twice as much as the rest of them, she was recovering faster. No doubt, she would have been up by now if not for being shocked twice. However, there seemed to be other civilians hanging there too…

Before she could puzzle over this longer, however, one of the guards, pointing a rifle at her, went to her side. She turned and looked to him. Without warning, a moment later, he gave her a sharp kick in the side with a steel-toed boot. Dael's eyes widened, and immediately she clutched her side and doubled over to the ground.

"On your feet, piglet." He spat at her, making sure that the venom in his voice got some of his spit on her. "From now on, you do as you're told immediately, or you get a bullet in the head."

Dael continued to wince and moan for a moment, before looking up and glaring at the guard.

Immediately, he kicked her again, causing her to double over once more in agony.

"Don't you dare look at me, stupid piglet!" The guard snapped. "Keep your head turned to the ground like the swine you are!"

Dael suppressed a groan. She wanted to snap at the man, but it would do no good. Instead, biting back her pain, she began to slowly push herself up. However, before she could get far…yet another kick came, dropping her yet again. A moment later, she felt her hair seized by the man's hand and given a sharp tug.

"Faster, stupid piglet!" The guard snapped, before flinging it down again.

The young officer required every ounce of self-restraint she possessed not to shoot out a hand, seize that man by the balls, and go down ripping them off. However…she controlled herself. Getting shot wouldn't do any good. Besides…she thought as she looked to Bahamut out of the corner of her eyes…she didn't want them shooting him or any of the others. She knew from the conversation that she was important to them now…at least, more important than the others. She didn't want them taking out their anger on then. And so, biting back her pain, she forced herself up and to her feet with the speed and poise expected of an Esthar's Hawk, yet keeping her head to the ground.

The guard looked ready to smack her again out of spite, this time using his rifle butt, but he didn't get the chance. Abruptly, Dael heard chains start to furiously rattle behind her, combined with straining noises. The guard looked up to this, as did the others. Immediately, he ran behind her, as did two more to join him. Dael turned and looked to see what happened.

Ceja was fully awake now, and struggling furiously against her bonds. Despite how thick they were, they seemed to groan a bit with each stretch. She tried shouting out at her captors, but it was odd. She seemed muted when she did so. Dael soon realized that the collars were also muting them as well as negating power. Kind of a "double whammy". At any rate, she continued to fight furiously even as the guards reached her, and started going off on her with their rifle butts.

Dael wanted to yell at them to stop or not look. After all…Ceja wasn't the kind of person who would stop after a few blows, or even a solid minute of being beaten. Even after two minutes, and she was covered with bruises and blood, she continued to struggle…and so they continued to strike her. It wasn't until five minutes had passed and Ceja merely hung there looking dead that they struck her for an additional minute, and only then released her. Once she collapsed to the ground, a motionless heap, Dael feared the worst. Yet they didn't let up even then. They started to strike her and yell at her to get up, calling her a "stupid hog". That broke it. Dael had actually taken a step forward. She heard one of the remaining guards cock his weapon, ready to shoot her in the back.

But then, by some miracle for both Ceja and Dael, the woman, despite her numerous injuries, suddenly got up and, while still being struck, got to her feet. Her face was a mess of bruises, swelling, and blood…and yet her eyes still burned fiercely…at least, the one eye she could look out of. After hitting her a few more times for "good measure", the guards let her be.

As it turned out, over the next fifteen minutes everyone else woke up. Taraketh was next. He was initially as stubborn as Ceja…but he lacked the durability to withstand the blows. He went limp much faster and, once released, couldn't get up as easily. Somehow he did, probably due to pride more than anything. Cryder was next. He submitted fairly readily. Oh, they still hit him anyway, but not nearly as many times. Dael realized that was wisdom. They had more to gain from being compliant and regaining their strength than just letting themselves be turned into pieces of meat. Pride wouldn't help them here. Quaren, familiar with prisoner drills much the same as Dael was, quickly submitted too and spared himself some pain. Finally, there was Bahamut. They had no qualms about hitting a child when he landed in the sand, although Dael would have yelled at them if she could have. Yet Bahamut, much as he had from the previous beating, rose up soon after without a word and merely did as he was told.

During the course of this, the other civilians woke up as well, all receiving much the same treatement. Yet after a full hour, during which Dael only grew thirstier, dizzier, and hotter in the intense sun (not to mention burned on the soles of her feet, as the sand was hot and they had no shoes), they were all up. When that happened, one of the guards yelled at them.

"Get in line, pigs!"

Dael made sure to do it quickly this time, as those who did so slowly got struck again. Soon, she formed a row with the others. She only could look at them through her peripheral vision, as looking at them earned another strike. However, Ceja was on her right and Taraketh was on her left, with Bahamut on his own left. They stood there momentarily as the guards moved around them. By then, the higher-ranking officer spoke out.

"I'll leave you to it." He stated. "I'll deal with them when you've gotten them ready for me."

With that, he turned and walked off. Dael looked up a bit to him, but soon he was out of her range of vision, and she was forced to keep her head down. Soon after, however, the other officer stood in front. Grinning at them maliciously, he folded his arms behind him and looked them over.

"Hello, gentlemen…and ladies." He stated, adding the last bit with a bit of upturn in his voice. "I am Sgt. Denev. I will be your escort over the next few days as I conduct you to your new home: Helheim Detention Center. But before we go any farther, I need to inform you of a few small rules that you need to follow from now on, both under my watchful eye as well as when you arrive in Helheim.

"You get water, bread, and meat in gravy three times a day and no more, so if I were you I would eat it all. The clothes on your back are it, so take care that nothing happens to them. I've seen two dozen die from sunstroke during the walk alone. If someone next to you collapses, faints, or…dare I say…" He grinned a bit here. "Dies…either from the sun, the trip, or from a bullet from one of my guns…leave them. Do not even look at them or you may share their fate. Other than that…rules are simple.

"You do as ordered when you're ordered or you get shot. You walk until we say halt or you get shot. You go to the bathroom when we say or you get shot. You sleep when we say sleep or you get shot. And when you arrive at Helheim, you do each and every thing we say or you get shot. You complain, you get shot. You try to talk to us when we don't address you, you get shot.

"In short, you act like good little pigs and you live. You act like bad little bigs and you die. And don't think you all can't be replaced. There are hundreds more just like you waiting to come to Helheim. None of you are important. You are all dumb pigs. And, on that note, little pigs…"

With that, the officer brought his arms back around from behind him…revealing that he held a long metal stick with prongs at the end. It was clearly an electric prod. He grinned wickedly and gestured with it away from the area and toward the gate of the outpost.

"March!"


Dael struggled to recall what she had learned about prisoner of war tactics and Sybenian war tactics as she marched. It was all she could do to ignore the intense pain and discomfort she was in. And after a while, she managed to recall what she had read. They were using a common tactic nowadays, what with all the talk of 'dumb pigs'. Sybenia regularly persecuted people. The Guiding Hand had taught the majority of citizens to hate and persecute the minorities in their midst…people who had once been friends and neighbors. The best way to encourage people to start thinking they were superior to others was for them to brand the "inferior" ones as not even human…hence them constantly referring to them as pigs.

That was about all she could recall over the next three days, however.

Dael had heard of the term "death march" before…and, in all likelihood, this might have been the death march for one of them had she not been experienced in trying to go through the Pallas Desert before. All of them were given some sort of strong sunblock to apply to themselves, then chained together by their shackles. After that, they were commanded to march in a line out into the desert. Their guards followed alongside, but also with a sealed, armored transport running alongside. As they went along, every few hours the guards following them would move into the transport and fresh ones would come out on another shift.

It was soon Hell. Dael had no idea how the others were doing, couldn't ask them, and, if she could, she would be shot. However, she imagined they were soon feeling as bad as she was.

Frequently, she feared greatly for Bahamut, Quaren, and Cryder. They were still fully injured and burned from the fight with Ifrit. The Sybenians hadn't even dressed their wounds. No doubt, this march was doubly torture for them…and she wondered how they could possibly make it.

The first day was bad enough. They had to march through the desert with no proper clothing, no shoes, and no water except at meal times. She soon realized why they had gotten the sunblock. The burns would have killed them long ago or, if not, would have left them so battered when they got there that they'd have to waste resources healing them up before they'd be any use as slave labor, or so Dael supposed. Still…that didn't protect her from being baked half to death, and it didn't stop her feet from developing burns and blisters, until the slightest step was torture. They weren't beaten, at least, but the weight of their shackles slowed them to a snail's pace. Even on the first day, Dael's limbs and body were soon aching and agonized. No doubt…this march was to take the last of the fight out of them.

One of the civilians fell behind her at one point. Before she even knew it, hot and dizzy as she was from the desert, they shot him dead. She swallowed…praying that Bahamut would be able to make the journey as well as the rest of them. Remarkably, he held on, as did the others. It was taxing for them, however. She could tell how weary and exhausted they were becoming.

Stopping for a meal, they all received a small amount of water. Not enough to fully slake their thirst…but not a mere cup either. They all took it. Dael forced herself to take the food as well, despite the fact that it tasted like a mixture of cat food, the jelly that canned meat was stored in, and scat. It was the only way she could replenish her energy. They were allowed to group together here, and Dael moved around the others. Unfortunately, with their voices restrained, they could do little either than look at each other. Taraketh frequently glared at their captors, as did Ceja through her one unswollen eye. Dael tried to urge them to be patient. They had to get to wherever they were being taken. Once there, they could regain their strength and hopefully escape. As another misfortune, while they weren't beaten while they were walking, during meal time they were struck by guards for being too slow. At all times, however, they were continuously insulted. Dael knew why. They were trying to get them to see themselves as less than human. Such a thing didn't happen overnight or even over a few days, but she knew it might if she stayed wherever they were going too long…

They marched a bit longer after meal time until the sun fell, at which point they were told to lie down and sleep. Naturally, they received no blankets. In the frigid desert air, all of them huddled together in a mass to keep warm with people alternating at the edges. The guards, from the warmth of their transport, laughed and mocked them…some even spitting on them…calling them disgusting swine for huddling together like that. Dael felt Taraketh bristle at that…but again they could do nothing.

The next day was worse. After all, they had to march longer. More insults…more beatings…more pain…more heat…and two more people shot that Dael couldn't do anything about. It was driving her insane…to be reduced to such a helpless state, to be at the mercy of these men that she could have taken apart two days ago. She began to wonder if Garrado knew about this yet…or Esthar, for that matter. Dael feared her feet would never fully heal, and her face was cracked and bleeding by now from being so dry. The momentary water breaks hardly helped, especially since the food they received was heavily seasoned with salt…no doubt because it was rather old and low quality and needed such for preservation. By the end of the day, she was almost hallucinating from the burning sun and endless dunes. Yet the thought that kept her from even allowing herself to think of a complaint was that somehow Quaren, Cryder, and Bahamut were still on their feet. Cryder seemed accustomed to pain, Quaren was clearly using everything he had to keep going, and Bahamut, despite wavering and nearly falling numerous times, was choking up on his own chains just to keep on his feet. Eventually, however, they stopped and rested again…and Dael, in spite of freezing, slept almost immediately.

The next day, which would be the last, started off bad, but improved a bit, relatively speaking, as they moved along. The seashore came into view, and cool breezes from the ocean provided some small measure of relief. However, they didn't go far before they found more Sybenians. Military engineers accompanied by large groups of soldiers were moving down the coast, putting up gun emplacements and other defenses. It was hardly as sophisticated as the defenses guarding Sybenia directly, but still would make any invasion problematic. Smoke began to form on the horizon, indicating another facility of some sort.

Some of the Sybenians passed them. They laughed at them, spat on them, and groped the females…Dael included. At one point, she was certain Ceja was going to lean out and bite one sticking his hand in her face. The young officer quickly reached out and stomped on her foot, a move that managed to sneak by the guards thanks to the mass of soldiers about. They had to be patient…

As they marched closer and closer, the smoke grew thicker and thicker, and the air grew foul. Dael showed visible disgust. No factory this dirty or filthy had produced waste such as that in Esthar in over 30 years. Apparently, Sybenia was saving some money on evading regulations. The sand itself became murky and stained with soot and other residue. All in all, the place started to resemble the worst parts of Leuco. However, after passing a few more large dunes, they finally began to see their destination up ahead.

It was in a low-lying valley, going underneath the dunes and stretching almost to sea level. It moved down and toward the line on the shore, and then spanned a considerable distance, but was surrounded by upward sloping hills and dunes on all sides…making it hard for anyone to get out without being seen, obviously. Triple chain link fences surrounded the facility, two double layered, then forming a line in between the second and third that guards were patrolling with monstrous hounds that were apparently mutated from Sybenia for attack purposes.

Beyond that existed a large yard…extensive and far reaching. On it was arranged all manner of things. It was impossible to make them out at first, but it appeared as if there were piles of rocks lying about. Some of them looked like standard rocks, but most of them had metallic shines or colorful hues. Dael knew little of geology, but she knew an ore when she saw it. Accompanying them were other assorted piles that Dael couldn't make out, and several large, flaming pits. The way they dotted the landscape all over, and the way what looked like gray-black grime stained everything…it gave the impression of an almost volcanic landscape…or a wasteland.

Numerous buildings were beyond. None of them looked like a standard prison. Rather, there were numerous small shacks in a separate fenced off area within the main fenced off portion…obviously where they led the workers to sleep, possibly to eat as well. Most of the other buildings, however, were large, metal and brick, and belching out foul smoke and fumes while being illuminated with flames from the inside. They looked like small factories, made of cheap yet highly unsafe technology. Carts and tracks had been made to go inside and out of them, and Dael could tell that ore was being brought into these places.

Beyond that, there were a few other things of note. There was a large, well-made, yet still basic military barracks that obviously was for the guards. There were numerous towers both inside and on the perimeter of the place, each one topped with a compliment of soldiers with rifles and scopes. Toward the back, another interesting sight. There was actually a small dock with a few warehouses attached, large enough to not only accommodate freighters but also a full-sized Sybenian destroyer. Since this was a more-than-overt best chance at an escape route for the inmates, it was also the most well guarded. Solid walls with guards posted and a large gate was sitting there, not just chain link. Even if the inmates rioted, there was no way they could get through it or even ram it with a vehicle…or even armored transport.

"Speed up! Faster, you pigs!" The leading officer yelled, striking the lead walker with his prod for spite.

Dael was forced to keep up. Roughly, they all had to keep the same pace, regardless of how tired or injured. The chains would allow them to do no less. Soon, they were approaching the chain link fences, and a large steel door gate across them. The gates were opened, and they were herded inside. By now, Dael was struggling not to cough and choke, and having been baked by the sun and walked across the desert for close to three days, the fumes were making her dizzy almost to the point of collapse. Yet somehow, she stayed alert enough to look around her.

Now she saw that there were hundreds of people dressed much like her at work. Their heads had been shaved and they were starving…making them look less and less human and, therefore, easier and easier to mistreat. Their faces were sullen, downcast, hopeless…like dogs that had been beaten into submission. Some looked better than others…obviously having not been there as long, but still downcast. All of them wore collars like Dael did. Some of them showed irritation around them…indicating that they were never allowed to remove them. As such, they were silent, unable to even speak to one another. And always, guards and taskmasters would come by and strike the slow ones, yelling at them and calling them 'pigs', 'dogs', and 'rats'.

Most of them were working the factories, endlessly toiling to bring in new ore and pump out what looked like girders, pipes, cables, and other basic goods that could be used to make larger items. Many were covered with ashes and soot, their hands nothing more than bleeding calluses. Almost all were limping, for none had any shoes and their feet were covered with injuries, burns, and wounds. Many of them were severely infected…and some were already missing feet and struggling to keep working on one foot and a crude artificial leg. The fact that these ones seemed to try and keep their remaining feet as uninjured as possible told Dael what would happen if they lost their other foot as well…yet the guards beat and kicked these ones especially…no doubt eager to replace them with newer workers as soon as they could. With no bandages, some had torn part of their own flimsy garments into strips of cloth to bind their feet, while others actually packed mud on them to try and made crude "soil shoes".

Whoever wasn't working was doing chores around the prison. Some were painting buildings. Others were emptying the outhouses. A considerable number were around the barracks, and Dael assumed they were waiting on the guards and officers, mending their clothes, washing their bathrooms, making their beds, sweeping their floors, and the like. Finally, there came the "other" piles. Dael now saw they were full of things of value that had been seized…fine clothes, jewelry, antiques…anything that seemed valuable. Some of the prisoners were rooting through them, seeming to separate them into piles and remove anything that didn't have value. Occasionally, a guard would walk by and pocket whatever caught their eye. Not just the jewelry, but clothing and antiques too. Some would hold them up and seem to look them over. Dael assumed that the Sybenians had families just like anyone else, and perhaps they were sending gifts home to their spouses or children…just gifts that came at the expense of others.

The ground wasn't all sand. They were near the coast, and grist had been spread around in such a way to make packed dirt landscapes. The result provided a bit better traction and mobility. However, there was a rather extensive yard just up ahead that the prisoners were steering away from. A wooden podium was erected on one side, but no one was on it at the moment. However, guards were coming out to reinforce the current ones. Soon, the compliment had tripled.

The group was made to get in line and, to the tune of more yelling and a few blows, was forced to file ranks similar to how they had been earlier. The newer guards yelled at them continuously, calling them numerous names and always using 'pigs'. However, they simmered down as well, and soon all of them were arranged. When they were, a line of soldiers appeared in front of them, all with guns out. For a brief moment, Dael tensed, thinking that they were going to shoot them dead now.

However, such didn't happen. Instead, some of the guards shouldered their rifles and pulled back, and another team moved to the line with a set of magnetic keys. Using them, they went into the shackles and began to remove them, starting at the front of the line and moving down. It took no time at all before they started to unlock the group as well. Dael couldn't speak, but she turned and looked in the line. Ceja saw what they were doing, and she already saw the muscles of the woman tightening. The guards that had witnessed her up until now began to raise their guns to her.

Miraculously, however, Dael made eye contact with her, and she looked to the young officer. Intensely, Dael mouthed "no" to her. They wouldn't try to capture her next time. They'd shoot her dead. She could only hope Ceja could swallow her pride a second time and take that advice.

The warrior looked back at Dael at this for a few moments. She paused…but then finally eased slightly. Sighing in relief, Dael looked forward again.

She cared little for how rough they were when they unlocked her, wrenching her limbs as painfully as possible to do so. All she cared about was when the shackles were off. Her wrists and ankles cried for relief and air, and she felt much lighter and looser. If only they would have removed the collar as well… At her current power, with no weapons and nothing special, she knew she'd never last for more than a few moments if she tried to cause trouble now. It didn't help that she was still totally drained from the march. So escape plans weren't going to help. She thought of calling on Carbuncle…but that would do no good. She still needed to speak, and even if he got here he couldn't get them out.

Finally, the line was done, and the chains and shackles were hauled away. As that happened, one of the guards barked. "Strip, you filthy pigs!"

Awkward as that command was, no one disobeyed it. All of the guards with guns pointed at them were just looking for a good excuse to fire. In spite of the fact that this was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of all these backwoods soldiers…some of whom, she saw, were already starting to leer at the women…she removed the simple piece of sackcloth and tossed it aside. At least her arms were free to cover herself partially now. As the others in the group began to do the same, she had a good idea of what was coming. She turned to the others and made a motion to close their eyes and cover their mouths and noses. However, even as she did this, she saw that the ones who had been burned not only had barely begun to heal, it had likely become worse, and the burns infected.

One of them was Bahamut…

Before she could think any longer, however, the guards returned to the line…this time carrying fire hoses with them. A moment later, they switched them on. Dael only had a moment to pick up a distinct acrid and toxic scent before she was nearly ripped off of her feet by a solid ram of water.

It took about three seconds for the pain to hit Dael, at which point she thought that she was being subjected to the most inhumane form of execution ever devised, even for Sybenia. She wasn't sure what was in those hoses, but she knew in an instant that it wasn't just water. It was some form of strong, acrid-smelling burning chemical. The way it struck her skin and immediately set all of her sweaty pores on fire, and tried to seep through the cracks of her nose and eyes and even ears to burn her, especially the way it was being blasted into her, made it feel like she was being bathed in acid. Somehow she held back from screaming, if for no other reason to keep the material out of her mouth. Only after about five seconds did she realize they were being "power-washed", not killed, but that the longer this took the more she would be sprayed. And so, highly reluctantly, she turned around and let them get all of her.

As she did, somehow, over the sound of the water, which was fierce and piercing enough to hurt all on its own, she heard flopping from down the line as the hoses hit other people. They weren't able to hold back their own pain, and, likely, suffered more from it because their thrashing enabled some of it to get in their mouths. The soldiers yelled at them to get up and threatened them, but none of them fired, and none of them went in to beat them, lest they risk getting hit by the fluid themselves.

After what seemed like ten minutes but was probably no more than fifteen seconds, the hose moved on to the next person in line. As Taraketh was smacked by the antiseptic, she could hear him clench his teeth and exclaim through them, but other than that nothing else. She couldn't see any of it, naturally. The fluid was running in her eyes and she didn't dare open them right away. Naturally, they weren't provided towels or anything either. She had to hold simply until it dried a bit of its own accord. Her skin felt raw and on fire after only a few minutes. However, right before she could open up her eyes…she heard a choked off retch from nearby…

Quaren.

Despite the result, she forced her eyes to open and looked down the line. The fluid immediately ran into her eyes, stinging and burning them, and her vision went blurry. However, she managed to look, and saw that her friend was in total agony. The burns on his neck were too large and erratic. He couldn't cover them. The fluid was soaking them, and was driving him into uncontrollable pain. He was trying his hard to stifle it, but it was too much. The guards, sadistic as they were, seemed to be trying to blast him in his burn, tearing open the wound again to drive it wild. He couldn't even scream due to his collar, but his attempts to were still somehow making sounds.

This was too much for Dael. In spite of her attempts to be calm and wait for the right moment, she couldn't stand just watching this. She had to do something. Yet even as she planned to move, she realized something else.

Bahamut was next in line…and the hoses would get him next.

Dael went a bit wide-eyed at the thought, feeling her insides stirring. Quaren was her friend…but he had been trained for this. He had undergone tear gas training and torture endurance the same as the rest of Esthar's Hawks. Bahamut was just a kid.

The hoses finally let Quaren go, who was barely standing at this point, and shifted toward Bahamut next. The boy, in spite of knowing clearly what was coming, stood there defiantly. It was a futile gesture. The hose was too strong. Dael had almost been knocked off of her feet by it and she was a highly trained soldier. He was just a boy. As a result, Dael did the only thing she could do.

Right as the hoses turned on Bahamut, Dael leapt forward, wrapped her body around him as best as she could, covered his burns with her arms as best as she could, and took a second soaking.

This one was no easier than the first. They quickly shifted to her head, blasting there and yelling orders for her to get back in line. However, as she felt Bahamut stiffen in her grasp, heard him wince and hiss as the runoff from the hoses alone began to seep into his wounds and skin and make him burn all over, she refused to move. It was bad enough that they were being subjected to this. Bahamut could be blinded or deafened by it if they sprayed the burning material into his eyes and ears for all she knew. And she couldn't let him be driven into such agony through his burns. If nothing else, she could keep the sadistic soldiers from blasting the fluid into his wounds. She didn't know how he was reacting and she couldn't tell, but she wasn't going to open her eyes to find out.

The guards kept blasting her, and soon were calling her all sorts of profane names. However, none of them would intervene directly, not going to risk getting blasted by the antiseptic. That wouldn't stop them from shooting her, however, and so, after a time, Dael began to rotate Bahamut around, making sure that at least the runoff fluid was getting him all over. He complied. In spite of his own agony, he had enough presence of mind to realize what she was doing, it seemed. Although the guards must have blasted her for a full minute this time, they seemed to finally realize what she was doing as well, and that she wasn't going to stop. And so…they finally cut off the flow and moved to the next.

Dael's skin was so on fire she didn't even know they had stopped soaking her with the hose at first. She was battered, dizzy, and addled from the entire experience. Again, her eyes were closed. As she slowly pulled back from Bahamut, however, she tried to open her eyes to see him…

She didn't get the chance. Rough hands seized her, making sure to hurt in the process, and dragged her back. As they did, clubs came out and struck her at various points.

"When I tell you to stay in line, idiotic piglet, you stay in line!" One of the soldiers sneered at her. However, it was his bare hand he was using as he dragged her back, and as a result he got some of the fluid on him. She heard him wince in pain as the others released her again, and the guard proceeded to slap her across the face hard in anger. Between the death march, the desert, her hunger, her thirst, and now the brutal washing…Dael didn't have the strength to stand up to it anymore. She collapsed to the ground from the blow. She heard another sneer from the guard before a boot smashed her in the gut, and she immediately spasmed and clutched for it. Soon after, the Sybenians let her be, leaving her to slowly draw herself to her feet again.

As soon as she was up, she got another dose of the hose…this time to clean the dirt off of her that she had just accumulated. But after that, it was finally over. Feeling half drowned and weak, Dael could only wobble on her own two feet as she waited for the hoses to finish with everyone else. She used the opportunity to let her eyes clear. She heard no more wretching, but she supposed everyone could be screaming in agony and she wouldn't know it. She finally was able to open her eyes again, initially only seeing a blur, but it cleared with time. Eventually, they were all sprayed, and the hoses were cut off.

Another line of guards came up as the first put away the hoses. These ones had powder, and proceeded to throw an amount on each of their still wet bodies, both sides, to delouse them. Finally, one last line of guards came in and began to throw out new sets of the flimsy clothing, tossing one to each individual rather than handing them out, seeming to shy from the touch of them.

Once all of them had one, a command was uttered. "Put them on, filthy pigs!"

This wasn't that easy. They were all still wet and most of them still dripping. The clothes adhered to their bodies and were soon soaked as well as they put them on. As Dael struggled to do so, she spotted something. A few guards and another higher-ranked officer were taking their places on the podium. The high officer was a large man, both in size and middle, and wearing a set of wire-rimmed glasses with circular lenses. He had a calm, collected look about him, but also a hard and indifferent one. Once he was on top of the podium, he crossed his arms behind him and patiently waited.

By now, Dael and the others, despite being battered, sore, and in a great deal of pain, were dressed. And so, the guards wasted little time in coming up to them, ordering them and shoving them onward and over to move their line in front of the podium. Even if Dael had any desire to resist at this point, she was too weak to do so. Instead, she tried not to collapse from the soreness of her feet (which now had open wounds flooded with the antiseptic), and moved over to take her position in line.

Finally, they were all lined up. Once they were, the guards and soldiers moved into new positions, cleaned up the last of the mess, and stared at them. The large man looked over all of them similar to how a drill sergeant looks over a recently cleaned barrack. Dael just stood there grateful for the heat of the sun and the factories. She was still dripping the acrid fluid. The last thing she wanted was to be freezing in the desert's night sky as well.

"My name is Colonel Randolph Horatio." The officer finally spoke, in a very straightforward and measured tone. "This is Helheim Detention Center. I am the Warden. All of you will remain here until such a time as our Dictator no longer feels you are a threat to the Guiding Hand and that you can prove yourselves to be productive citizens of Sybenia. There are no cells here. No shackles or chains. No solitary confinement blocks. There is only order and discipline. You will obey the rules. The rules are you will do as you are told when you are told or you will be shot. You will wake up at 5 AM. You will wash yourselves and present yourselves for inspection. You will eat breakfast, and then you will work until noon. After you are fed again, you will work until 8 PM and you will be fed dinner. Then you will sleep. As far as work is concerned, most of you will work in the factories. The others will do chores.

"You are all dirty trash, and for the crime of opposing Sybenia none of you deserves life. However, our Dictator, in his great mercy, has instead sent you here to be provided for and fed on the government dollar. Our government has shown you kindness and compassion where you have shown us nothing but contempt. You will learn gratitude and respect as a result. You will be thankful to Sybenia and the Guiding Hand for each day that you live, for that is our gracious gift to you. You will also work to further our cause and you will salute our flag and standard every morning. In time, even you pigs, the most useless and depraved of all life on this world, may gain a modicrum of dignity and honor by supporting the world empire.

"Do as you are told and you will be treated well. Oppose us and you will be killed immediately. I do not believe in warning shots or second chances. Give me reason to believe you are plotting against us and you will be executed. Some of you will eventually be taken to our experimental facilities, where your worthless lives will be put to the noble cause of furthering the goals of the Guiding Hand. The rest of you will have to work and work hard.

"None of you will be allowed to speak. You are pigs, you have nothing useful to say, and we can do without your grunting. Your collars will remain on your necks at all times. Attempt to remove them and you will be shot. Look around you. Those prisoners are your fellow workers. They are not your friends or family or acquaintances. They, like you, are merely workers. Therefore, you are not allowed to write messages to them or aid them in any way. Attempt to do so and you will be shot. Even if they are your own family members, you are now all workers for the Guiding Hand and have only one father and family: Rozan Heirarch and the Guiding Hand. And he demands you work, not engage in idle chatter.

"Do not bother making any escape plans. No one knows this installation exists except Sybenia, so no one will try to liberate you. Garrado is crumbling, so no assistance will come from there. Esthar is lazy and incompetent, so no assistance will come from there. Accept your roles as swine workers for Sybenia, for that is what you are and what you will be until the day you die."

With that, the large man uncrossed his arms from behind his back. He revealed another electric prod, much as the sergeant had. However, he did not implement it immediately. Instead, he crossed it in front of him and turned to the side of the platform. He went to the stairs and slowly descended them. His footsteps echoed loudly over the silent field, despite the working in the background and the chugging of machines and industry. He slowly moved over to the line as two guards moved over behind him. As he walked alone, he turned and looked out. His eyes glanced over each prisoner. Most of them hid their gazes, assuming they weren't still cringing from the power wash. However, Dael looked forward. She didn't see the others through her peripheral gaze, but she assumed they were much the same.

The Warden eventually came in front of them. He paused there. His prod went out, still deactivated, and gently tapped one of them. He moved along, doing the same at a slow pace, including to Dael when he passed her. She looked him in the eyes as he went by, but didn't react. Finally, he stopped after moving to the last of them. He held a moment, and then turned to one of the guards. He spoke to him momentarily, as if confirming something, and then looked back to the line. On doing so, he motioned outward.

"The six of you that I just tapped. Step forward."

Dael did as she was told. On seeing her do it, the others followed suit.

"You all are POWs and therefore somewhat more than the trash in the rest of the line. You will be sequestered to a different area and receive special tasks."

He looked to the guards and made a gesture. Immediately, eight soldiers came forward and surrounded them. The Warden turned to the others. "As for the rest of you idiotic pigs, you will report to the barber immediately."

Dael could guess why that was the case, but she didn't have long to dwell on it. The Warden turned and left at this, and the next highest-ranking guards came up and immediately started barking orders and herding them on. Some started to drive the people while the ones surrounding Dael's group shoved them with rifle butts and began to lead them to one side.

Giving one last glance to the desolate, downcast people who were being herded off to begin the process of dehumanizing them into the equivalent of slaves, Dael exhaled and looked forward again as she was led off.


Dael soon had bigger worries on her mind than the fate of what happened to those people. The woman herself was led along with the others out to the barracks in the back, away from the workers and the factories. They were taken past the officer's barracks next. At that point, however, more soldiers came out and joined them, and proceeded to divide them up. In moments, they were all being broken up into individuals and led away, Dael herself being flanked by three guards and separated from the others. She tried to watch them to see where they were taking them, but that only led to more smacks by the guards. She hissed in frustration. She needed some time to think, now that she was here, time to plan what she could do to escape. She believed the Warden about Garrado. It would be no help. They would have to somehow figure out a way to get out on their own. But how could they do so without being spotted? She didn't have the advantages from the mission to Sybenia…

However, her thoughts of the others, even Bahamut, couldn't last. Soon she was wondering what fate was in store for her. As she was led to a back lot, away from the eyes of others, by three male guards, she couldn't help but fear that they didn't have something wholesome in store for her. Nevertheless, she held on. She was weak, tired, drained, and in agony…and didn't have any special powers. However, if they were truly alone by themselves, her odds of beating three isolated soldiers were better than trying to go against the whole of the camp.

In the end, they moved out of the shadow of the barracks, and up to a sunny patch of ground in between the building and the fence. All that she saw there was a single shovel protruding from the earth, having been stuck in. It held, because the ground, due to the sea, was more solid here and less sandy. They marched her straight up to it. She focused on the shovel as they arrived. If nothing else…that might provide something of a weapon should things go bad.

Finally, they reached it. The guards immediately fanned out again and surrounded her from three different angles, approximately equidistant to each other. Their weapons stayed at their sides, but ready to be raised to aim at her at a moment's notice. For a moment, they stood there silently, and she stood in their midst, doing nothing and saying nothing.

"…Alright, piglet." One of them finally stated. He motioned. "Pick up that shovel."

Seeming to anticipate what she might do, all of them backed off together, putting her out of striking distance for all of them. She held a moment, but then did as she was told. She reached over and grabbed the handle, and pulled it from the ground. It was wooden and rough, obviously an old shovel and not finished. The iron spade was dull as well.

The one who spoke motioned to the ground. "I want a ditch dug. So get to it."

Dael hesitated a moment. She almost asked what size and dimensions, but reconsidered. Not only could she not make a noise, but if she tried she'd probably just get beat again even if she could talk. And so, instead, she shifted the shovel in her grasp, and then began to dig.

It didn't take long for such a simple task to become a strain. She was still in the sun, and in spite of the smoke this was near a desert, and was hot and dry. She thought of working until noon and that she would receive water and food…but she gained neither. Nothing save the stares of the guards. She was sweating in no time, and tried to cool her dry mouth by occasionally licking her own sweat. Yet that did little to help the rest of her. After all, she was very tired and sore already, and this only made her more tired and sore. Her blistered, bleeding feet frequently ached as she moved about on the ground, and the fact that she had to step on the spade to get it to go into the dirt didn't help. Her hands were soon being rubbed raw by the wood, and as time went on she began to get splinters. But she continued to work, never stopping, even as the day wore on longer and longer.

Noon came and went. Dael was quivering a bit from pain and hunger, and a bit dizzy from thirst. A large pile of dirt was nearby, and a deep hole was in the ground, practically big enough for Dael to completely fit inside standing up. She enjoyed the comfort of it, being in the darker, cooler ground. However, around this time, the guard changed. Three new soldiers came up. They swapped out and took their positions, and soon looked down on her again. Dael didn't stop. She continued to dig.

"Piglet." One of them called after a bit.

Dael paused in her work, panting a bit, and looked up to him.

"What are you doing getting this dirt all over the yard?" He asked coldly. "Get rid of it."

Dael paused for a moment…realizing what this was now. She stiffened, and swallowed a little, and then proceeded to slowly and wearily crawl out of the hole. It was a hard affair, considering how tired and sore she was. But finally she did so. After that, she exhaled, and then stuck her shovel into the dirt and lifted some back into the hole.

The hours ticked by again. Dael panted more and more, her lips dry and cracking again despite her power wash. She was covered with sweat and grime from the beating sun. It was slowly going down now, but not nearly fast enough. The lack of food and water continued to ebb at her strength. Her muscles began to burn and throb. The shovels of dirt that she put in got smaller and smaller, but still she weakened. Her head hung low as her hair was soaked, but still she worked.

Finally, Dael paused. Sticking the spade against the ground, she closed her eyes and paused a moment.

A second later, a rifle butt smacked her in the side. In spite of her weakness, she arched back in pain and, losing her balance completely, fell to the ground. Once there, the other guards moved in and each one of them struck her once, hard and strong.

"You don't stop until we say stop, piglet." The guard snorted. "Get up."

Dael was dizzy and sick as well as sore now, but somehow, she managed to force herself onto her feet fairly rapidly. Still panting, she resumed her work.

The sun had just finished going under the horizon, and Dael had moved almost all of the dirt back into the hole. At that, the three guards from earlier returned, starting a new shift. Again they were switched out. Dael continued to work…but she knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again. Sure enough, it did.

"Stupid piglet." The guard from earlier coldly stated. "I told you to dig a ditch. Why are you filling it back in? Dig it now."

Dael stopped just in the midst of dumping in another shovelful of dirt. She panted and closed her eyes for a moment.

A rifle once again smacked her across the face, knocking her to the ground.

"Now, you filthy piglet."

Dael couldn't rise this time. She had to endure more blows before the combination of pain and what energy she had left was enough to get her back to her feet. Once there, she began to dig again.

Night fell, and Dael's entire body was quivering, feeling like jelly. The lack of heat was no help. Now it was freezing cold, and still dry. She didn't think she could talk now if she wanted to. Her hands were throbbing calluses. Her feet were numb and likely infected again. Her entire body felt like an open sore and all of her muscles were on fire. But still, she continued to work. Somehow, she continued to dig. She tried to focus on something else, like how the others were doing. But she couldn't. All she could think was of her endless chore.

It took her much longer to get anywhere this time. The sky was beginning to turn purple again when the second shift returned. By now, Dael was barely conscious. However, as predicted, the soldiers swapped out, and once again looked down on her.

"You worthless piglet." The guard said. "I tell you to get the dirt off of my yard, and you put even more out. Get rid of it before I shoot you."

Dael, more croaking and rasping rather than panting now, used everything she had to climb out of the hole again. It took her four tries…but inside the hole, the guards couldn't smack her, and so she was out again, and soon resumed her task.

The sun rose again, and soon Dael was being baked. She had eaten nothing since breakfast the day before, and that had been scraps more than anything. She was practically hallucinating in the heat. Whereas the other prisoners had a chance to rest, she had been working all night. Her head was pounding from lack of water. She barely even knew what was happening anymore. Yet somehow, she could still feel pain because she collapsed twice, and each time was greeted with blows by the soldiers. She couldn't even focus on why this was happening. Were they torturing her to death? Trying to break her? She didn't know…and she was too dehydrated to even think about it.

Around noon, when Dael was practically on her knees, the guards switched again. It was early this time. The ditch was only half full. Dael could barely move. She looked like the living dead.

The one who returned barked an order.

"Stop now, piglet."

Dael did so…and proceeded to drive her spade into the ground as she nearly collapsed. She could barely stand. She was almost out of it. She was quivering all over, her muscles on fire, her strength completely spent. She hardly knew what was happening.

However, after a while, the guards, now six of them, split up. Five of them surrounded her, all with guns drawn. That done, their leader looked at her a moment, and then walked forward. In moments, he came to a halt in front of her. Dael's head was bowed, but not out of respect…out of exhaustion. She felt his gloved hand come out and grab her by the chin and elevate her head…so that the two were face to face. However, she could only stare at him with a glazed look in her eyes.

The soldier stared a bit longer at her…and then leaned over and proceeded to run his tongue along her cheek.

Disgusted and enraged as Dael was from the act…she could do nothing. She couldn't even look irritated. Her brain was so fried that everything felt like a dream now. All she could feel was her pain, exhaustion, and thirst. She stood there like the walking dead.

At this, the officer released her chin and let her head fall.

"This one is ready."


Dael wished she could have kept track of where she was going, but it was impossible. She was too weak at this point. She could barely stand. And so, when the guards came in and grabbed her by either arm, proceeding to literally drag her across the yard, the only thing she could do was be grateful that they were moving her and not making her walk or beating her for not walking. Still, it didn't take long for her brain to start thinking of what they had in store for her, what she was now "ready" for.

She couldn't even accurately tell how long they dragged her or where, but it seemed to be a considerable distance. Being around noon, she didn't slip into any shadows, but eventually she came up to some sort of building, she assumed. She heard a door open, and a moment later she was dragged over a threshold. The merciless sun was at last cut off, and she was in shadow. It grew considerably cooler. However, a rather foul and disgusting scent hit her nostrils. It smelled of rot and funk and who knew how much other filth. She was still being dragged inside, but the loathsome stench had sufficient power to rouse her to her senses, and she managed to weakly look up.

The sight she saw wasn't comforting.

In the strictest terms, this looked like some sort of shed. Perhaps a larger tool shed at some point or a work area. Maybe it was used during construction of the barracks. The floor was gravel and the walls were loose boards with considerable gaps in between the two. Half of it was in shadow, meaning it was tucked away in a corner of the installation. Because of the desert sun and dryness, it was considerably cooler in there…but that was cold comfort as to what she saw.

The room was filled with rusted, old, sharp tools of various sizes. Some were power tools. Some were hand tools. None of them were for building. All of them were for torture. There were various racks, tables, and spikes hanging about as well, and many of them were stained with blood. In particular, a large oven filled with hot coals was in one spot, and some sort of rack array looked like it enabled one to strap a person down and roll them inside of it… Meathooks hung from the ceiling and blood was old and dried on the floor. Filthy buckets were to one side, obviously for cleanup.

In spite of Dael's semi-conscious state, she knew what she was doing here.

Dael was dumped on the ground unceremoniously, her face pressed into the filth and stench. She lay there, still trying to catch her breath and see if she could regain any strength at all. She wanted so badly, in spite of her situation, just to sleep… But she didn't have the chance. She heard a rattling of older-style chains soon, and they were brought over to her. She was flipped over roughly, and her arms seized. They were drawn out and shackles were put over her arms along with a chain. After that, the guards roughly yanked her up and into the air, where the chain now extending between her arms was hung over one of the meathooks. She was soon left dangling much as before.

One of the guards came before her, and produced another one of those magnetic keys.

"In case you're thinking of escaping, hog, don't bother. There is an Eris Bell in this room."

He turned and gestured. Dael weakly looked. Sure enough, against a wall, about 30 feet away and well out of reach, one of those humming generators was going. She had been so tired before she couldn't hear them.

With that, the guard turned back, inserted the key, and finally undid the collar.

She could feel the coolness on her skin as it was exposed for the first time in days, and soon after, she began to hear a ragged croak…which she realized was her dried out voice. She was still quite weak, however. The Eris Bell was nullifying her junction. Soon after, the guards turned and left. The door slammed shut, and she hung there in the shed.

Dael swung a little, closed her eyes, and focused. Much as she just wanted a night of rest…she knew that she'd soon be taxed again. That was the only reason she could be here. Now she'd have to deal with "true" torture, not just being worked to death. In all honesty…she didn't know how long she could do it. They had been wearing her down for a few days now, sapping her strength and reserves, and now she was hungry, thirsty, and sleep-deprived. She knew if they simply continued to deprive her of sleep and submit her to more pain, eventually her mind would crumble and she'd tell them anything they wanted to know simply from being unable to focus. Her will was strong, but she wondered if it was only a myth or real that some people were truly "unbreakable". Technically, when she did torture endurance training, they had to cut it off before they did permanent damage to the recruits. Sybenia had no such distinction… She had to summon what little strength and will she had left and get a "breather" while she could. Meanwhile, she frequently swallowed, trying to slake her thirst.

After about ten minutes of hanging there, the doors opened again. Soon afterward, the guards brushed her as they passed by. They dragged another individual in there. She looked, and soon saw that it was Taraketh. Her suspicion was aroused. Typically, didn't they interrogate prisoners separately? So they could do the whole "prisoner's dilemma"? However, she soon realized the truth, and it made her more uneasy. They warned her when she got into advanced programs that this was a sexist fact of life, but a fact of life none the less. She was a "simple woman". It didn't matter if she could take it more than anyone else. The typical male who possessed any modicrum of decency also was rooted in notions of chivalry. If he was forced to watch a male friend being beaten to death he might bite his tongue and hold out…but a female friend? By a male? Especially if the male decided to assault her halfway through it?

Taraketh's stubborn nature and lack of military training made him foolish. As they dragged him in, he suddenly lashed out for a weak blow at his captors. They smacked him in the head with a rifle butt and dropped him again. They proceeded to get out a new set of chains and start chaining him up again, only for him to spring to life and try to fight again, and once more was knocked down. He no doubt had been worked to the point of exhaustion like Dael had, but he was being stupid…trying to strike back as soon as he had enough power to do so. Dael, on the other hand, had been biding her time. She knew she could make a few focused blows if the time came for it, although, at the moment, hanging as she was, she could do nothing. Taraketh was finally hung up. The moment they unlocked his own collar, arcane words sprung from his lips…but did nothing due to the Eris Bell. Immediately, however, the guards began to beat him again as he hung there. Even when he went limp, they kept striking him a few more times.

"Keep your witchcraft to yourself, pig." One of them sneered.

In spite of her standing, Dael managed to weakly look up and frown. "So this is the bravery of your great empire…" She croaked through a dry throat. "Not striking a man unless he's powerless to fight back."

She had enough of these Sybenians. She wanted to at least say something. Of course, her jibe costed her, and she knew it would. Moments later, she closed her eyes and winced as the nearest guard came over and smashed her in the gut with his rifle butt.

"I like these pigs better when they can't speak." The guard sneered. "They at least know their place then."

"Why do we not just cut their tongues out?" Another guard snorted.

"These two, at least, still need them for a bit longer…even if that's all we need of them intact." The third darkly stated.

With that, the guards began to pull out. Soon, they too went behind Dael, and the sound of the door opening and closing went out. Taraketh, meanwhile, was covered with fresh bruises and blood, and gasping for air. Dael watched him, and saw that, while angled slightly, they were both still in full view of each other. Not good.

After a moment, Taraketh managed to weakly open his eyes and look to her. "Still alive, I see…"

"Save your breath and your strength." Dael responded. "You're going to need all you have to endure what's coming."

Taraketh frowned. "I may not be an Esthar's Hawk…but I'm not a traitor, either."

"The only thing I want from you…" Dael spoke up, as firmly as she could in her weakened state. "Is to look at me with the same amount of hate and loathing you had when we first met. I don't need you getting weak on me…talking in order to save me."

Remarkably enough, Dael saw Taraketh pause. For a brief moment, she saw him clearly freeze and look at her. After a moment, however, he snorted. "…Don't worry. I still have no love for the military."

Dael, however, wasn't reassured. She closed her eyes and cursed mentally. She had been hoping for some time that Taraketh would loosen up, but now she wished he never had. He was part of a religious organization. It wasn't in his nature to let people suffer unjustly. Even if he still didn't like Dael perfectly, their relationship had changed and he now had a grudging respect for her, she realized. He saw her as a partner if nothing else. And that was more than enough comradery, she knew, to open a weakness. She wasn't sure how long they'd last…but she hoped it was longer than she now feared.

"…By the way." Taraketh spoke up again after a moment, causing Dael to forget her thoughts and look over to him. He wasn't looking at her, and his face was grim, but he spoke again. "No matter what happens…what you did for the boy yesterday…was very noble."

Dael said nothing in response. She merely was silent and continued to save her strength.

They didn't have to wait long. Eventually, the door to the back opened again. However, no one initially came in. There was a moment of silence first. Dael knew why. More mental warfare. Let the prisoners "stew" for a bit in their fear of what would soon be coming. When the individuals did walk in, they were all slow and methodical. The one in the lead had his steel-toed boots click slowly and methodically across the ground as he approached. Dael took one last deep breath to steady herself, and then focused. Soon, the leader walked into view.

Of all the people it could have been, it ended up being the higher officer that Dael saw a few days ago, right when she woke up to find herself hanging like a dead chicken. Getting a better look at him, she saw he was dirty-blond haired with icy blue eyes. He still had that smug, calculating, and cruel look about him. He was still overdressed as well, complete with officer's hat and coat. Once inside, he stood so that he was in clear view of both. He turned with hands crossed behind him to face both of them. He gave them a confident, smug smile.

"…Enjoying Helheim, you two?" He asked.

Taraketh gave him a murderous glare. Dael did nothing.

The officer smiled a bit more, and then moved over to an unseen console on one of the support beams in the room. He pressed a button on it. Moments later, a motor began to chug, and, a bit to Dael's surprise, the hooks that he and Taraketh were on began to move, like on invisible trams. She was pulled along with it, and both seemed to be "rotated" a bit, until they were angled a different way, now in clear view of the exit and the bulk of the room. The exit itself was guarded by two cold-looking soldiers with guns. At any rate, the tram stopped, and the two were left swaying a bit. The officer moved back out and gave them his cruel look again.

"My name is not important." He stated. "But my superiors have given me the nickname: 'the Vocalist'. They call me that because, as you might have guessed by now, I am quite good at helping people 'find their voice', so to speak."

Again, neither said anything.

The Vocalist let out a short chuckle as he removed his hat, moved over to another hook, pausing only to pick out a clean one over a bloody one, and then set it on. After doing so, he moved to his coat next.

"You silly people of Esthar…you're all the same." He stated as he unbuttoned it. "Thinking that you are the only ones with eyes to see and ears to hear. Did you honestly think, Lt. Commander Dael Levinson and Taraketh Sabian, High Child of Hyne, that we would not be watching and waiting for you to return to the Western Continent? Did you think that simply because you attacked us under the cover of darkness once, and that you hid behind a witch the second time, that we did not take pictures? That we did not make inquiries? That we wouldn't be able to find your identities? And did you think the Hounds to be old dogs, that they wouldn't sniff you out when you destroyed one of our Iron Giants? That your escape was so flawless across the desert? We have more eyes and ears than you can possibly imagine, and they are worldwide, not just on the Western Continent."

His coat was off and he had hung it on another fresh hook afterward. He was still wearing a uniform, but his muscles were now clear…solid and powerful. He had moved over to the oven now. He paused for a moment to take what looked like a very long, very thin, needle-like poker off of a rack and shoved it into the coals, tending them a bit. He spoke again as he did so.

"You two never escaped us. You merely climbed a tree and attempted to wait out the Hounds, thinking they would leave, and then climbed back down as soon as you thought it was safe. Our eyes have been on you both the entire time, even when you thought you were safe in your flimsy country. We simply lacked the opportunity to strike. Granted, we haven't seen everything, which is good for you. Otherwise, you'd already be on your way to Dr. Lindst, and, frankly, you might prefer my company to hers before you're done. But we did watch you as best as we could, and saw that you two have been running around a lot. Having closed-door meetings with many important people in Esthar and the Order of Hyne…no doubt hatching secret designs against us…"

He left the poker and turned around to both of them. He smiled a bit more, and walked out into their midst.

"A Child of Hyne is trash, no matter how strong. Useful for our research and nothing more. An Esthar's Hawk is more valuable, but their tongues are iron and it would take three days of non-stop torment and anguish before they begin to speak. Often better simply to kill them and be done with it. However, I am the best at what I do…and you two are rare prizes. Based on our intelligence, both of you possess Guardian Forces…but you appear to want more. We found that out when we ambushed you."

He sighed, bowing his head a bit, and shrugging.

"Unfortunately, the bomb that flushed you out also destroyed the cave entrance. By the time our forces tunneled in, all we found was a cooling cave of magma. Apparently even your so-called 'gods' are cowards compared to the might of the Guiding Hand. However, I am firmly convinced that you knew where he fled to, as well as where to find more. While I have no use for your devilwork, our Dictator believes that there should be no advantages available to Esthar, meaningless and weak as you are. So…let's just start simple, and with that."

He walked forward a bit and smiled up at them.

"You will be neither betraying your cause, your order, or your countries. It quite simple…just tell us where to find them. We'll get to more difficult questions, such as what Garrado's pitiful resistance is planning and what futile gesture your people are attempting, later. Let's start easy. Let's show each other just how easy this can be. Where did the Guardian Force within that cave flee to?"

Dael was silent for a moment, staring forward, her face expressionless. After a few moments, however, she looked down and straight in the eyes of the Vocalist.

"…Dael Levinson, Lt. Commander of Esthar's Hawks, Serial Number 80012376."

"Go to Hell." Taraketh snorted, far more blunt.

The Vocalist, in response to this, broke into a wider grin. He backed off a bit, and let out a merry laugh. He did so for a few moments as Dael and Taraketh stared at him, not showing any fear or trepidation.

"Good, good!" The officer said after a moment. "That is what I like to hear! You see, that is the way you people always want it, and that is just the way I like it! Do you think I gained such a reputation because I enjoy it when one wishes to talk? Of course not! I prefer you all to stay silent so that I may drink deeply of your screams! So that I may hear you beg and grovel to tell me more!"

Dael didn't look intimidated at all and stayed quiet. Taraketh sneered.

"I'll die before I tell you anything, so you might as well cut to that part right now."

The Vocalist chuckled. "Don't be so cowardly." He responded. "I intend for you to beg me for death as well at least three days before I am done with you. Now then…the question is how to proceed from this point."

He crossed his arms behind him again and looked over both of them, seeming to study them. He appeared genuinely intrigued as he did so. After a moment, he began to muse aloud.

"You see…people think that there is nothing to my job. That there is simply a checklist I go through. A prescription. Nothing could be further from the truth. You have to know a person. You have to find their pressure points. You have to apply the correct amount at the proper place. In a case like this…you have to know which one is the weaker of the two…which one will break first…which one will blubber to save the other. And here…it is quite difficult. But I would not be good at my job if I wasn't good at finding out."

Dael and Taraketh continued to show nothing. After a few more moments, the Vocalist pulled up. Turning his back on them, he began to walk back to the oven.

"There are other things, too…" He mused aloud. "Some prefer to be 'gentle', at first, like a parent who is too soft…who attempts to bribe or lightly discipline a child. They make them stand in a corner or go to their room before spanking them and then beating them with a belt. They would let you hang while being watched. They'd only wake you up every time you tried to pass out. They would starve you and keep you from water. Perhaps they'd be man enough to slap you around and waterboard you, but that's all. Then, after, say, four or five days, they'd try again. That is foolishness. Even if they do talk, they would no longer know what in the world was coming out of their own mouths at that point. There still has to be a little life inside you so that you can produce something. Me?" He chuckled again. "I prefer to, as they say, 'go right for the throat'."

He pulled the needle-like poker out of the coals. It was now red hot.

Dael, in spite of her bravery and will, found herself struggling not to shift in her bindings. She knew if she did, he'd hear the jingle…know that she was scared. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to look. Meanwhile, he turned and face them, holding the red-hot, smoldering object in front of him. He smiled wickedly as he began to approach.

"Do not worry…I have done this many, many times." He stated darkly. "With this poker, I am as accurate as a world-renown fencer. I know exactly where to poke and how deep. So you will not die. But I will take things from you that you will never get back. You see…that's the thing. That is the key to it. The real reason they never talk. Because, somewhere, deep in the back of their minds, they still cling to hope. So you are hungry? You can always eat in the future. So you are thirsty? You can always drink in the future. You can always sleep. You can always have your wounds bandaged, your bones mended, etc., etc. You must take something that they know they will not get back, no matter what they do."

He soon came to a stop in their midst again. By now…he was in such a spot where, if he extended the poker, he could drive it into their bodies at any point like a thrust of a foil. He looked at them again and paused.

"I am going to count to five." He stated coldly. "And if you do not talk by the time I say 'five'…I am going to drive this poker into one of your eyes and watch as your eyeball roasts away within your own skull."

Dael, in spite of everything, heard a jingle not only from Taraketh's chains…but from her own. She tightened her jaw. She repressed the urge to shut her eyes…as if that would do any good. It would only show more cowardace. She risked a look to Taraketh. He refused to show fear either. His jaw was set and he glared at him.

"One..."

Dael grasped the chains that held her wrists and held tight. She felt her heart begin to beat faster.

"Two..."

The young officer began to breathe harder and fiercer, steadying herself. She tried not to think of how much this would hurt…how mind-numbing the agony would be…how she'd only see one side of the world for the rest of her life…

"…Five."

Without a beat, the Vocalist snapped to the side…and drove the poker straight into Taraketh's left eyeball.

In spite of the training, the discipline, and everything she had been through, witnessed, and conditioned herself for…Dael had only a moment to show clear, visible, total and complete horror on her face before…she closed her eyes and turned away. But she couldn't cover her ears…and soon they rang as Taraketh, for the first time she knew him, screamed in total, absolute agony. There was no remedy for this. No way to tough through it. He simply screamed in such a horrible noise that Dael would never forget it for the rest of her life. She felt herself strain in the chains, her breathing going rapid and her heart racing. But nothing blocked out the sound of his screams. She thought she could almost feel his inconceivable agony through them…but knew in her heart of hearts that as anguished as this was, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling.

Somehow, in the midst of all of her shock and horror, she screamed at herself mentally.

Look at it. LOOK AT IT! It's all you can do for him now! If he sees you breaking down, he'll know you're the weaker of the two! Then he'll just keep torturing Taraketh until you speak!

With that, Dael swallowed, and turned back, forcing herself to look directly at it and using every last fiber of her being to maintain a cold expression.

It was so horrible, even if it was only for a fraction of a second before the poker was pulled out. But she saw what was left…that blackened hole in Taraketh's head…

Taraketh slammed the eye shut, but it was already burnt on the edges. He had tried to close it instinctively, obviously, when the poker went in. She could still see the hole… In spite of that, Taraketh somehow slammed his jaws shut. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could even as the screams kept coming from them. He began to make noises…strange, obscure noises that Dael couldn't make out. She wondered what they were. Only later did she realize that Taraketh was holding out only by focusing on everything he had learned from the Sorceresses. And while his temptation was to deal with the agony by screaming every curse known to mankind at the vocalist, his Order demanded that he not hate his enemies…and so he was just babbling.

As for the Vocalist, he pulled back the poker…still smelling of burnt flesh, and looked to Dael. He raised an eyebrow on seeing her staring at him.

"Well now…most impressive." He stated. "You see, women are weaknesses not just to men, but they are naturally spineless. I expected a bleeding heart to beg me to let this poor man go…but you seem content to let him suffer? How cold. Perhaps you are a lesbian."

"If you want to see how spineless I am…" Dael darkly responded, barely restraining her own anger. "Cut me down and find out for yourself when I shove that red hot poker up your ass."

The Vocalist merely chuckled. "Oh no, we'll have none of that. I wouldn't want to have to kill you so quickly." He turned away and walked back over to the oven. He proceeded to shove the poker back in. "After all, since this one was the gentleman and went first, it's only fitting that you be next."

Taraketh had quieted down a bit now, somehow able to stop screaming and merely panting. However, Dael couldn't imagine the overwhelming pain he was in. Combined with his exhaustion, he could easily go into shock. Dael tensed up at the thought. He needed to get out of here… But that was a foolish thought. Neither of them were going anywhere. They were stuck in this damn shed until this psycho tortured them both to death. Taraketh began to seethe a bit and mutter something, but Dael couldn't make it out.

The Vocalist, meanwhile, went over to one of the walls with a number of tools. He began to look over them calmly.

"Try to find more of your voice than that." The Vocalist called behind him to Taraketh. "My guess is you'll be talking soon. As for you," He continued, this time addressing Dael. "I think, as a matter of fact, I shall do as you say. I shall indeed cut you down from there."

With that, he smiled, and reached out and took one of the tools off of the shelf.

A bloody chainsaw.

"…I just won't be cutting the chain."

Dael now truly had to focus everything she had to not being scared. She kept telling herself she was an Esthar's Hawk. She had spent her life in the military. She wasn't going to break. Not here. Not now. Not for this smug bastard… But she couldn't help but look at the blade and the chains on it as the man turned and approached her…imagined seeing her flesh and bone rent and torn, flying in front of her face, spraying it with her own remains…

Dael Levinson, Lt. Commander of Esthar's Hawks, Serial Number 80012376. Dael Levinson, Lt. Commander of Esthar's Hawks, Serial Number 80012376. Dael Levinson, Lt. Commander ofGodthisisgoingtohurt, Serial Number 80012376. Dael Levinson, Pleasesomeoneanyonehelpus…

"You…sick…bastard…" Taraketh's voice rang out. Dael couldn't bear to look at him, but somehow between his gasps he began to speak again.

As for the Vocalist, he was soon standing where he was before. After that, he calmly placed the saw on the ground, put his foot on the handle, primed it, and then began to pull the rip-cord. He did so twice before it ignited to life, and the engine began to hum. He looked up to Dael with a wicked look.

"A countdown really won't be necessary this time, will it?" He asked. "I mean…after all…you don't plan on telling me anything besides your name, rank, and serial number?"

Dael stiffly breathed, struggling to stay brave, even as the smell of burning fuel filled the air. The Vocalist raised the saw.

"Do me, you son of a bitch…" Taraketh suddenly called out in the strongest voice he could muster.

The Vocalist ignored him, testing the blade once. Dael could feel the wind whip by her face as it turned.

"I think I'll do the right hand, young lady." He said with a smile. "That's usually what people are, after all. Occasionally, I get a lefty…but oh well."

He ignited the blade and kept it on this time, beginning to move over to the wrist. Dael prepared herself, in spite of the fear running through her mind. She was going to have to tie it off in a hurry, she realized…but practical thoughts were irrelevant at that point. She was about to watch her own hand get chopped off. That overroad all logic and sense… The blade neared…

Then, she heard a cry.

"Alright, you bastard! I'll talk!"

The Vocalist paused. The chainsaw was cut off, although it continued to hover. And, despite Dael's best intentions, she felt relief flood into her heart. Yet she angrily ignored those feelings. Still looking at the saw without hesitation, she called back.

"Don't you dare! I'll kill you if I ever get out of here, Taraketh!"

"I'm not going to just hang here and watch him carve you up, you stupid grunt!"

"Damnit, you have to! Shut your damn eyes if you want but don't talk! You can't help me!"

"I'll tell you anything you want to know!" Taraketh snapped to the Vocalist, ignoring Dael. "Just let her go!"

"Taraketh, shut up!" Dael snapped back.

To all of this, the Vocalist listened for a while, and then simply let out another laugh.

"Well now, I have to admit…I always expected this if I ever got to start torturing a woman, but this is almost too much! You both sound like an old married couple! Tell you what."

The saw blade ignited again.

"I'll give you both twenty minutes to settle this argument…after the young lady loses her right hand."

The chainsaw lowered again. Dael, in spite of herself, went wide eyed. Taraketh opened his mouth to cry out again, although she didn't see it. All of her attention was on the blade as she began to feel the air brush right over where the slice was going to land.

But then, light abruptly bathed part of the dimly-lit shed…light that came from the door opening. At once, the chainsaw cut off and pulled back. Again, Dael ignored the feeling of intense relief that flooded into her, even if it was more a reprieve than anything, and looked out to the door along with Taraketh, the Vocalist, and the two guards in the room.

A soldier ran a short distance into the room, in between the two guards, and came just enough for the door to swing shut behind him. A wide-brimmed desert hat was on his head, as well as a poncho of camouflage cover designed to block out the sun. He was bulky underneath, having a lot of gear, obviously. His rifle was in his hands, much of the poncho was up around his neck and mouth. Sunglasses were also on his head, and he was thoroughly hard to make out.

"We have some trouble, sir."

The Vocalist, looking clearly annoyed that he had been interrupted of the middle of his work, lowered the chainsaw and let it fall to the ground. He turned fully to the newcomer.

"…What kind of trouble?"

"This kind."

Abruptly, the rifle was tossed to the ground, and the man snapped up a hand out from under his poncho revealing a weapon that Dael had never seen before, but what looked like an oversized staple gun. The man moved quick as a flash. Before the Vocalist's eyes could even finish expanding, he squeezed out multiple shots. Sure enough, it sounded like they were fired by pressurized air, but they erupted in the form of multiple large pronged nails. The Vocalist could only gape in surprise as one impacted him across the neck and literally ripped him off his feet, carried him across the room, and slammed him against the wall before anchoring in, literally bolting him to it. However, the other shots were just as good. They slammed around his wrists and legs, bolting them to the wall as well, and soon he was hung up against it like an oversized butterfly, gaping in shock and gagging around the one over his neck, trying to understand what had happened.

The other two soldiers immediately snapped on the newcomer. However, he released his weapon which, rather than falling to the ground, simply slipped back under his poncho, reached inside, and came out with what looked like two very large vise-grip wrenches with machinery attached. His arms shot out as the two men raised their rifles to him and attacked with the oversized wrenches, which immediately clamped down on either rifle barrel at once, crushed inward to smash them like aluminum cans, rotated to twist them, and then folded upright to crumple both up on each other, rendering either weapon totally useless as it snapped the barrels clean off. The two soldiers gaped in shock, before the newcomer pressed a button on either wrench. Immediately, some sort of spring-loaded, telescopic extension erupted, causing both wrenches to erupt outward with explosive force and smash into the faces of either guard. Both were hit with significant force to rip them backward and dump them on the ground, unconscious.

Dael didn't know how Taraketh had reacted, but she gaped in shock at the newcomer. He pressed another button on both wrenches, which made them revert to their previous standing, and he returned them under the poncho. A moment later, the nail gun appeared again, and he aimed outward with it and fired one final time. But he didn't target the Vocalist, who was still gagging and struggling, this time. Instead, the giant nail shot through the air…and obliterated the Eris Bell with one shot.

Dael immediately felt strength she didn't think she had left rushing into her. Weak and battered as she was, she soon felt like she had twice the strength of her body when she was "normal". All of her injuries began to be numbed and seemed more inconsequential, and even her thirst and hunger seemed less. With that in mind, she closed her eyes a moment…and, surprisingly, felt good to hear arcane words come to mind and tumble from her lips…

Moments later, Dael was standing on the ground, her shackles empty and dangling there following her teleportation. She smiled a bit…but that quickly faltered as she began to black out. Giving a groan, the world began to slip away from her massive exhaustion and she was instants from collapse…

When she felt the arms of the newcomer brace her. The world continued to slip away and her vision went black, and she nearly went unconscious, when she felt something sharp pressed into her neck. A hiss went off a second later. Distantly, like from the end of a tunnel, she heard a voice call.

"Take it easy, Dael… You're still in real bad shape…"

However, the voice began to grow louder toward the end. Her vision cleared, and she began to feel more alert and awake. Her strength returned and her hunger and pain all but vanished. Soon, she blinked, and was able to get back on her feet again. As her senses returned, she looked and saw the newcomer nearby. However, he pushed away quickly and moved over to Taraketh. In spite of his own increase in strength, he couldn't teleport and he was in more agony than Dael, and, in all likelihood, more exhaustion and pain since his own body wasn't as naturally trained as hers.

The newcomer, on arriving at him, pulled out what looked like an epipen of sorts. He went up to Taraketh's neck, drove it in, and pressed a button, causing a hiss just like the one Dael had heard. After only a moment or two, Taraketh was fully alert again. Raising his head, and ignoring the gaping black wound in his eye, he chanted. Immediately, thick frost appeared on his chains. Gritting his teeth, he twisted the chains and struggled…and soon shattered them all together. He fell to the ground, stumbling a bit, but staying standing.

"Don't overexert yourselves, you two." The newcomer stated. "Those are only stimulants, not elixirs. They'll keep you going for another 30 minutes or so, but then you'll both pass out. We've got to get out of here before then."

Dael rubbed a bit at her sore neck and muscles, and looked up to the newcomer as he put away the epipen. "…Who are you?" She called.

The figure turned to her, and grinned a bit as he reached up to the hat and poncho. "Forgot me already? I'm insulted." With a flourish, he tore both of them off and tossed them aside. The first thing that Dael became aware of when he did so is that he was covered with straps which were overloaded with at least a dozen different "monstrous" versions of conventional power tools and hand tools, all plugged into various pneumatic or electrical power sources that seemed to be on a large pack on his back. However, she soon shifted her focus to his head, which had a messy crop of red hair and a small red goatee. Taraketh looked as well, and blinked a few times, seeming to be in disbelief.

"Sir Boer?"

"Cid?"

"Didn't think I'd leave you all hanging, did you?" He said with a snicker. "Especially not when Lady Faerio herself told me to track you all down. What's the matter? Think Jalab's the only one who can be heroic?"

The two were still stunned. Dael stared long and incredulously at Cid. However, before she could say anything else, Taraketh suddenly spoke up.

"…One moment, Sir Boer."

Dael looked to him, as did Cid. Naturally, he had raised a hand to his burnt-out eye at this point. Dael flinched at the sight. Even though Cid had come…he had been too late. Taraketh would go the rest of his life with only one eye. It made her twist on the inside. In spite of all the arguing they had been through, she felt terrible for him. However, Taraketh seemed to ignore this. He moved slower and more stiffly. After all, even the stimulants couldn't fully deaden his pain and exhaustion, or the junction for that matter. He soon reached where the gagging Vocalist was.

He reached out, seized the clasp around his neck, and with a grunt ripped it off. Seizing him by the neck instead, he reached out and tore off the rest of the restraints one after the other. That done, he proceeded to use his strength to hoist the man into the air by the neck.

Dael saw his true quality at that moment…a coward. The Vocalist had gone wide-eyed with fear. His eyes were saucers and his pupils dots. He was beginning to sweat all over. So it was true…unless his opponent was restrained, he hadn't any confidence at all. He didn't even struggle against Taraketh. His lip quivered. He actually looked on the brink of blubbering. Taraketh stared at him hard. Dael didn't see it, but he opened his burnt out eye so he could see it.

"…I am a Child of Hyne." He stated after a moment. "You are a despicable, deranged, sick, twisted man, and the world would be better without you. If I was to let you live, you'd only be a threat to us. Even if you weren't, you'd go on to torture and kill more innocent people. You proved to me that you're not in this for information, but to sate your sadism. I would be well within my rights to kill you. However, I cannot do so in good faith, because I would be killing you from a desire for revenge and out of anger rather than out of a desire to protect others."

The Vocalist calmed a bit at that, seeming to almost be a bit relieved. However, Taraketh clenched harder, making him gag again. A moment later, he ripped him off of the wall and threw him across the room. He collided with the floor hard, and then slid across it…coming to a stop right at the feet of Dael. The Vocalist winced on the landing and sliding, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself looking up…and staring right at Dael, who glared at him coldly.

"…Therefore, he's all yours, Lt. Commander."

The Vocalist actually let out an audible whimper as he stared at her.

Dael, on her part, reached down and seized the man by the lapels, and yanked him to his feet. She glared at him coldly as she proceeded to drag him over to one of the beams. As she passed by, she reached out and snatched another set of chains off of the wall.

"…I'm still waiting on you to kill me." She stated darkly. "I've been unhooked for almost a minute now."

The Vocalist stammered. "I…" He began to speak in a raspy whine. "I…I am highly valued…by the Dictator… He pays me well… I have…many accounts-"

"I'm an Esthar's Hawk." The young officer cut off. "I am loyal to Esthar and I do not accept bribes."

She reached one of the posts, shoving the Vocalist against it. She proceeded to collar him around it by the throat again, wrapping the chain around his neck and the post and shackling it. Soon, he was gagging again, but he could still breathe and talk. In the meantime, she went over to where she was a moment ago, reached down, and snatched the chainsaw off the ground. It was still humming. She turned back to the Vocalist and began to approach him again…wielding it.

He turned white as a sheet, and struggled violently.

"W-Wait!" He cried desperately, holding out a hand and begging. "I was only following orders!"

"So am I." Dael coldly answered as she reached him, bringing the chainsaw around. "No comfort or mercy to the enemy under any circumstances."

The Vocalist slammed his eyes shut, not able to watch his own eminent demise. He pulled his hand back and cringed, expecting the pain to come at any time.

Instead, Dael snorted at him once, and then swung the chainsaw block around to club him on the side of the head, instantly knocking him out. The man slumped and fell, soon being only held up by the chain, unconscious. The young officer proceeded to switch off the chainsaw, and merely threw it aside. She turned and looked back to the others.

Taraketh stared, but showed nothing. Cid, on his part, actually looked a bit uncomfortable, and only now looking relieved. It seemed as if he too thought she'd really do it.

Dael stared back a moment longer.

"…That wasn't compassion." She finally told them. "I could tell when I looked at him that the moment I tried cutting him he'd scream like a stuck pig and bring the whole camp on us. And once his superiors see him like this after we've escaped…he'll be shoved into the labor camp along with the others. If anyone deserves this daily torture, it's him."

Cid just merely stayed relieved. Taraketh paused momentarily. He seemed to have lingering anger, and Dael didn't blame him one bit for it. Order of Hyne or no, what had just happened… But in the end, he nodded.

"…Alright. I don't want to waste anymore time with him anyway."

Cid seemed to snap out of it at this, and quickly reached for his side. "I only have a few dressings, Taraketh, but let me do something about your eye…"

Taraketh paused, but then nodded. He moved over to Cid and lowered himself to his knees, allowing him to start working on it. Soon after, Cid emerged with a medical kit of some sort and went over to him. He began to open it up and dress the wound. As for Taraketh, he closed his other eye, focused a moment, and soon after began to speak his archaic language again. Soon after, a green aura lit up and began to come over his body. The bruises faded. The cuts began to seal. As for his eye…it remained gone, but the edges of it began to scar over. Dael tried not to watch, again thinking of what Taraketh had lost. She couldn't help but think of something else…

He wouldn't talk when his eye was stabbed out…but when the Vocalist moved to cut off my hand…

Ignoring this, Dael looked to him. "Cid…how did you get here?"

As the Sorceress Knight continued to work, he spoke freely…clearly used to multi-tasking. "I hacked into the radio signals of Sybenia's forces when Lady Faerio and Lady Veriguno took most of the surviving army and went into battle. I ended up getting on a Hound frequency. I was supposed to gather intelligence for the battle. However, halfway through it, I overheard them broadcasting that an Iron Giant had been taken out, and they directly named you two, Cryder, and Quaren. Apparently they had Hounds in the buildings just watching the fight, not even intervening. They were sending out a hundred people for an ambush. They lost you for a while, but they eventually found you as you left the desert. When I heard them say they had tracked you to Ifrit's Cave, and then that they managed to capture all of you, even Sir Tierras, then I knew I had to do something."

Dael's eyes widened a bit at that. "Wait…Sir Tierras is still alive?!" The mixture of surprise, joy, and relief was evidence in her voice despite her discipline.

Cid snickered. "Not in the best shape, but you bet. Didn't you know he lived by the code 'Umberto contraiyn Morwai ramdpham arsen ilt codonam'?"

The young officer merely raised an eyebrow.

"…'A Morai warrior will not fall to a bullet'." Taraketh translated, wincing a bit from the dressings, but apparently done with his healing spell.

Dael decided to avoid the obvious next question for another big one. "How did you find us, though? I don't think they would have bothered broadcasting where they were taking us."

Cid smiled in response. "Remember when I patted you on the back before you took off?"

The young officer blinked. She almost didn't…but then remembered how awkward she felt when Cid had done that. It was a rather long time ago to her by now, but eventually she looked up.

"Wait, if you placed a bug on me, then that doesn't explain anything. They took my clothes."

"Oh, any fool can place a bug on someone." Cid said, waving a hand at her. "But a modern engineer pricks a person with a tiny needle and injects a tiny amount of metallic dye into their skin that emits a specific frequency when the natural electric current of their nerves runs by it."

Dael went wide-eyed. "…You're not serious, are you?"

"I couldn't risk a bug falling off, could I?" Cid responded. As Dael tried to puzzle over this, wanting now to look at her back in a mirror, he continued. "Anyway, it still wasn't easy. That dye was only meant to last a week at the most. And the range was overwhelmingly small. I had to hurry up and get the go ahead from the Sorceress to leave, and then gathered up as many of my things as I could and tried to head out after you. I might know a thing or two about machines, but not enough to pull a stunt like you did. Those three blocks might as well have been on the moon. It took me forever to finally sneak through. After that, I ran into the desert, commandeered a vehicle, and shot after you. I managed to track you down, calculated where you were headed, and went on to the prison. Once there, I hid and waited, checking out the place and trying to find a way in. Luckily, I had a rather good power drill that could be used to actually tunnel under the fences. Then I stuck to the shadows and tried to find my way about. It wasn't easy. Even when you all got here, I couldn't do much. It's taken me the better part of two days just to plan what I've done now. Of course…now we really need to get a move on. I can tell you the rest of the details later, but as near as I can figure, we've got our one chance to escape and we've got to take it now before it's too late."

He finished up the dressing at this point, and backed off. Taraketh's eye was now covered with gauze and bound with a dressing wrapped around his head. Dael still looked regretfully at it, but he seemed better than before. As for Cid, he reached behind him, and, with a grin, soon emerged with some familiar items. Dael blinked at them a bit. Taraketh did much the same.

He was holding her katana and Mage Gun, as well as Taraketh's kusarigama.

"You two are lucky your weapons are so well made. Rather than just destroy them or melt them down, they figured they could make some money off of them. These Sybenians…always looking for an extra gil."

Taraketh readily took his. Dael, after a moment, came forward and grabbed her own. She quickly fastened the sword to her side along with the holster, As she did so, Taraketh got a length of chain and began to swing it around a bit in a circle. Dael, meanwhile, drew her gun, snapped it open, and looked inside.

She actually made a small grin. "Still have my one Blizzaga bullet left."

As for Taraketh, he snapped his head toward a length of chain hanging from a hook. Dael and Cid looked up to him, just as he swung the hammer out for it. However, it fell short and to the side.

Dael saw a change come over Taraketh at that. He tensed up, visibly looking uneasy. The young officer, in turn, swallowed. He only had one eye now. He had to relearn how to use his weapon all over again. And even if he did, he didn't have depth perception anymore…

Swallowing, Taraketh retracted his weapon and began to stash it. "…I'll stick with my magic." He finally stated…a bit quietly.

"Anyway," Dael stated, looking back to Cid. "What do you mean by our 'one chance'?"

"I've done some research." Cid stated. "This is a prison, after all. According to their security protocol, as soon as a riot is noted and alerted, we have approximately ten minutes, maybe less, before ten thousand soldiers with more advanced weapons, artillery, armors, and the like flood this place and kill every last person, making sure to chase down anyone who hits the desert and slaughter them.

"Now then, you two probably haven't noticed, but a fully armed and operational Sybenian destroyer is currently docked at the prison yard. Their intention, so I've picked up from broadcasts, is to pick up multiple prisoners who have displayed magical abilities, including you two, and to transport them to God knows where for God knows what reason. The desert may be running amok at the moment, but this prison is situated on a single shore with rocky cliffs for miles. There's no blockade here, and I calculated that provided we do take that destroyer within minutes of a riot being signaled and go at maximum speed to the east, we can clear any members of the blockade before they get in touch with us. Aircraft is another matter…but unless they prep and arm long-range bombers, they can't reach it in time. They didn't bring any aircraft carriers here, no doubt because any enemy would know something important was here if they did. I also waited until now because the bulk of the destroyer's crew is ashore and eating lunch and none of the main artillery is powered.

"So, in short…we need to trigger a riot, take out the guard towers, overwhelm the dock defenses, board the destroyer, neutralize the crew, commandeer it, and then be headed for home at maximum speed all within a ten minute window."

Both Dael and Taraketh stared at Cid completely incredulously at that. Dael had to resist letting her jaw drop.

"…Sir, I don't mean to be rude…but are you crazy?" Taraketh asked.

"Cid, he's right. It would take 100 highly trained, highly informed, and highly armed Esthar's Hawks to pull that off."

Cid looked back at them with another smile.

"Or a great diversion and a hasty, yet thought out and complete, plan. I may not be terrific at magic, you two, but I'm not a Sorceress Knight because I can't think my way out of a desperate situation. I've been a bit busy, and the show is about to begin. In fact…" He paused here, raising his wrist and looking at it. "The opening act is just about ready to start."

Dael quirked an eyebrow. "…Opening act?"

"You weren't the first two I went for when I started acting out my plan. I broke into the medical wing of the main officer's barracks. They were keeping Jalab alive but comatose in there. I think they meant to research him too. He was messed up pretty bad and guarded by four men, but he also arrived earlier than you all. He was airlifted there by helicopter. The guards had gotten bored of watching him and two of them went off to eat while the other two fell asleep. I tunneled under and pried out a loose board and got to him…slipped a little something into his IV that should be kicking in soon."

"More stimulants?" Dael asked.

Cid grinned.

"Actually…I did have one elixir on me that Lady Faerio gave me before I left…"

Abruptly, a massive eruption, big enough to shake the shed they were in, went off from the officer's barracks. Even distant and muffled by the walls, it was large enough for the three to snap their heads to the source, and to gape in astonishment.

"What was that?" Dael exclaimed.

Soon after, the sounds of gunfire and soldiers yelling began to ring out. However, smaller eruptions soon went off as well, and many of them began to cry out. Cid let out a small laugh.

"Sounds like our cue. I think Jalab just woke up." He turned to the others even as his own hands went for his devices around his belt. "Alright everyone…discussion over. From here on in, we've got to strike hard and fast if we want to have a chance of pulling this off. We've got a lot to do and as soon as you hear the siren we only have ten minutes to finish it. Let's try to do all the damage we can before that happens."

Cid immediately turned and began to rush for the door.

Dael hesitated for only a moment. Crazy as this seemed, for she had seen all the defenses coming in…if what Cid said was right, this was indeed their only chance. And she'd have to help as well. Jalab wasn't enough to take out every soldier in the camp, strong or not. And none of the other inmates would be any good unless they lost their collars. And they still had to save the others too and secure their escape. After a moment, she tightened up and placed a hand on her sword hilt. She turned and looked to Taraketh. He exhaled once, but then nodded back.

With that, the two turned and ran after Cid.

It was going to be one wild ten minutes.


To be continued...