"You're crazy!" Mike cried, leaning over Harry's coughing body. "You're just putting everyone through hell!"

Albert smiled benignly. "That is simply because you all insisted on making things difficult. You insisted on defying my new order. I can see that none of you will be able live in harmony on your own power, either in my domain, or in your hilarious struggles against Miss Robinson. You're all too idiotic. In short, you're all morons."

Albert made his way to the row of shattered Battlefront fighters. "But, I am a good, gracious God, and I will bring peace to all, even those who resist. All will be made to find peace." As he said this, he suddenly stooped, and dragged someone up from the ground.

Winnie groaned in agony, and coughed up a bubble of blood. Albert set her on her knees, and then gripped her head between his hands, gazing at her intensely. Mike started toward them, but was quickly stopped by the several dozen calmly held pistols.

"You poor dear…" Albert crooned. "So conflicted, so confused, and so unhappy… I believe I know why your friend Hayley left you, my dear. It seemed to me that was she was obliterated because she reached a pinnacle of emotion. My theory is, she became so emotionally charged, that her spirit slipped though the bonds of this world, and moved on. Doesn't that sound nice, my dear? To finally find peace?"

"You… don't know anything about me…" Winnie coughed.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of hypnotism. I don't need to. Don't worry. Soon, your wretched past will be gone. You will be free from your memories. I am going to liberate you.

"Now, just be still, and look into my eyes. Such intriguing eyes, aren't they, my dear? Very striking features, notice the specks of color… the way they shimmer, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

Winnie's transfixed eyes held his, and then glazed over.

She blinked. Everything was gone, there was only white all around her, white stretching out in all directions, leaving her alone-

She heard a giggle, and whirled around immediately. Her blood froze.

"Hey there, big sis," her younger sister giggled, smiling up at her. Her other two siblings were beside her, holding hands. They all looked up at Winifred adoringly, with trusting smiles. Trusting, trusting, trusting smiles.

Winnie stumbled away from them, feeling her heart begin to race as horror gripped her. "No," she screamed at them. "No, it's a lie! I, failed you, I couldn't save you! Please, please, just stop looking at me…"

But her family didn't stop for a moment; she couldn't hide from their eyes. "Winnie-Ginny," her youngest sibling chimed, his curly brown locks swaying. "I so glad you're my big sis."

There was sickening flash, and they were gone. Her world turned black, occupied only by three, tiny coffins. Then her siblings were back. They were still smiling, telling her they loved her.

Winnie fell to her knees, bringing her hand to her face. "No, please! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She felt herself exploding inside, ground ripping shame and sorrow eating through her. She was dying, burning from the inside-"

Harsh sounds and colors rushed over her. She saw the bloodied soccer field rush back into place as the figure that had been holding her fell away.

Mike drove Albert into the ground. A single bullet grazed his back dispassionately, but most of the NPC's were too clueless to reach him, and without further orders, they didn't know to try again.

They tumbled over the turf, until Mike pushed Albert down, pinning him into his arms. Mike beheld Albert's shocked, sweat stained face with furious energy.

"Don't do it, don't destroy her like that!" he cried at Albert, holding him fervently. "Don't pass her on with false memories, don't just disregard her life!" The younger boy growled back in his face, but Mike continued on.

"All of our lives were true. They were real! Don't you dare make up something false. Our pasts helped make us who we are. We all fought, we all bled, we all struggled through our lives, and these memories are carved on our soul! It's no peace if you destroy our memories, if you take away part of who we are."

"Our pasts have shaped who we are. It's no peace if you just erase our memories, you're just taking away part of us."

Harry gazed at the two with dazed eyes. Winnie had sunk to the ground, and listened feebly. Albert was relinquishing his struggles, and now just lay, looking up at Mike, gazing at him fixatedly as he spoke out.

"No matter how hard, how painful our lives were, they're still ours. They're still our lives. Please, don't take them away." Mike stared right into Albert. "Wasn't your life real? Wasn't it the real thing to?"

Albert froze. Then, through stiffened, cracked lips, he finally whispered a reply. "No. No, it never was.

₪"I was born into a family of tradition. We were potters, the very best. My father had been a great potter, his father had been a great potter, and his father had been a great potter. And now… my brother was going to follow them.

Anthony was immensely talented, a prodigy. Everyone knew he'd gone on to do incredible things for our family's name, achieve new heights.

I, on the other hand, was an extra. I existed on the margins, the periphery. I spent most of my time playing video games, alone in my room. I wasn't really necessary.

One day, my brother and I were playing. He was intended to go off to an art based middle school that fall. Soon there would be such a difference between my brother and I, we would never again be equals.

But on that last day, we went to our favorite spot by the creek, to climb the old oak tree that swayed on its banks. We climbed higher, higher than we'd ever tried before. My brother wanted to stop, but I wanted to keep going, until we could see the sky out of the top. We continued on over the whizzed branches, going higher, higher, higher, until I could see the sun-

"And the branch broke from under us. We fell. I landed on the grass, and broke three ribs. My brother landed on the rocks. He died.

Except… he didn't die. My brother survived. I was the one who died.

My family had us switch places. I had been the one who died, a loss not long mourned. I assumed his identity, his place as the next achievement of the family.

Then, I undertook great training in the name of rehabilitation for my injuries; I would train eight, sometimes ten hours a day, all in an effort to gain skill. I was a not a natural potter, I, I couldn't create things with natural vision, with talented grace. My father was livid.

'You spent my valuable time making this?' he would often say, before he threw my work against a wall. "Disgraceful. You are hopeless."

But… I worked so very hard, all to appease my family. I made work after work, signing every piece with Anthony Lecher. All to show worth. And, very slowly, too slowly, I learned. At a national artisan fair, I won a prize, honorable mention. Considering the amount of contestants, it was an incredible achievement, especially for someone of my age. But, my art was still nowhere near the standard of the Lecher family. And I didn't win.

'Ridiculous,' I remember my father saying, standing straight by our display, mouth straight as a wire. 'This performance is absolutely ridiculous. I expect far better.'

'This is great!' I remember thinking. 'I'm going to keep training under my strict father, and get better, and better! Maybe, someday… I might get good enough for him to be proud of me.'

But then, my father became bedridden. He was so sick, he couldn't even spin a potter's wheel, he couldn't teach me pottery. He was even too sick to scold me, He'd just smile gently when I came to feed him, overcome with fever. "Anthony, thank you," he'd say, and I realized, that my own father was even forgetting of the existence of the boy called Albert.

I was truly the one who died. All along, it was only ever Anthony, and my father. Anthony was the one who worked and trialed so hard over the years. Anthony is really the one who's here, before you now… I never existed. I had no purpose, no reason for being, I was so useless my own life wasn't worth enough to be lived; I had to try, and fail, to live the life of another. The life of Albert Lecher was a lie. I have no purpose-"

With a sudden movement, Mike reached, and pulled Albert's shivering form into his arms, enfolding him in an embrace.

"Wasn't your life real too?" he said. Mike's energy had only grown, now pouring out like a flood. "Albert, you were the one who worked hard all those years! You're the one who fought and struggled, not your family, not anybody else. It was your life!"

Albert's mouth fell open in shock at the sudden contact. "What would you know about it?" he managed.

"I know it, because you're here." You're in this world with the rest of us, fighting, and struggling. You're here."

Albert's brown eyes widened. "You, you… acknowledge me? You acknowledge that I exist?"

"Who else is here with me? Right now, you're here with me. There's only you."

Albert had stopped struggling. He closed his eyes, tight in Mike's embrace.

"All my life… I just wanted one thing. I wanted my father to look at me, and say, 'that wasn't half bad, Albert. Not half bad.' I wanted him to acknowledge me."

"I wanted my father to be proud of me."

A/N End of Mission six. I had a lot of fun adding on to this chapter; I just kinda love writing battle scenes. Thanks for all the support, it's meant a lot.