Author's Note: This is a shorter section with not much action, a breather if you will. Just want to say, to all who have stuck around for this long, hope you're enjoying the tale. We're coming up to near the end of an arc, so events will start moving quickly. As always, any critique is welcome, whether it be good or bad.

Chapter 22: Sunset of the Madman

The Namekian could only wince as wind blasted his fresh wounds. Yet, upon his face, there was not a hint of pain. Under Sanctuary's heavens, all appeared to remain still. The landscape raced by in a dune-filled blur as he flew through the sky.

He was not alone, for accompanying him was both Reitoko, and the creature known as Grimhilde. Reitoko led at the front, a good distance from the other two. Grimhilde's monstrous silhouette, however, was right next to him. For minutes, Phonium would disregard the clear blue sky, the rolling hills of sand, and even his leader, and gaze upon the monstrosity. He reviewed every detail of her insectoid form, the almost slimy black and blue skin, her crowned head, and her piercing, slit-like eyes. Nowhere could he observe the degradation Ratcliff had cursed her with on his dying breath. It was almost as if the madman was lying through his teeth out of spite.

Soon enough, the patterns of civilization became visible upon the tan tapestry of the horizon. The distance between the three and the villiage's proximity could be measured in miles, yet they were traversed in minutes. It did not take long for the village center to be under the view of their feet.

Sands scattered as they touched down upon the ground. Directly in front of them loomed the form of Z's newest hideout. Grimhilde's eyes moved up the dark tower. Even two Capella suns, now beginning their descent from high noon, hid behind the structure.

Drawing back heavy doors, the group entered. Behind the entrance, stood the white-coated form of Dr. Smitter, already writing away on a notepad. Her eyes did not even trouble themselves to move up to address the newcomers.

Phonium and Reitoko moved aside. The golden eyes of the doctor gazed upon Grimhilde's monstrous stature with a hint of surprise and a large helping of professional curiosity. Under her inquisitive gaze, Grimhilde stood still, her slit-like pupils moving from the lab-coat adorned woman, to her newest allies.

Without saying another word, the doctor discarded her notepad, and retrieved out from her coat, a small flat device. As soon as her hands were upon the device, Grimhilde immediately raised her arms in defense. For a moment, Laura Smitter hesitated, confusion clouding her face. Sensing no danger, she proceeded, placing the device over the creature's skin. Lights flashed from the opposite side, illuminating black and blue. As Mrs. Smitter continued her diagnosis, her newest patient was quaking as if she were facing a most feared adversary.

Grimhilde's eyes followed the doctor's hand. Out of the corner of her sight, she caught the soft gaze of Phonium. As she continued to focus upon the Namekian, the quaking she experienced had begun to subside.

The doctor's face did not change as information began flashing before her eyes. The soft ring of windchimes and the operation of technology were the only things to be heard within the sanctuary. Soon enough, with a click, Mrs. Smitter retracted her recorder.

"Let's head down to the medical quarters." she said, gesturing to the three newcomers, "We just got settled in. There I can make a full diagnosis."

The journey to the medical room was swift. Down the stairs they went, into the basement of the hideout. Unlike the rather ornate design of the interior, the entrance to Mrs. Smitter's lab consisted of simple white automatic doors that were conventionally labeled with gray engraved lettering.

There was barely any sound as the door slid open. Grey tiled walls and ceiling, illuminated under fluorescent lamps greeted the group. The room was not empty. The tall form of Mr. Smitter was already present, his face glued to a medical console and his hands upon its controls. He turned to gaze at the newcomers, his eyes lingering on his wife. His only reaction to the insectoid form of Grimhilde was to raise an eyebrow. With no questions asked, he resumed his work.

A doctor's bed on the far side of the room was pulled to the center. Grimhilde laid across its metal surface, experiencing a familiar chill as her skin made contact. The lack of restraints, or that of a cackling madman who viewed her as another piteri dish, was a rather welcome change.

Mrs. Smitter then began rolling several carts stacked with all manner of medical devices around the bed. Several electrodes were fastened upon Grimhilde, adhering to her head, her torso, and even her legs. A large black screen on one of the walls came to life, showing off several graphs in cathode green. A constant beep sounded through the room, coinciding with the drumbeat that echoed within her chest.

As she lay strapped to machines, surrounded by the frantic movements of Dr. Smitter, who could have put several warriors to shame with the speed she moved, her eyes moved to the side. They met the obsidian orbs of Phonium. An apologetic look overcame his face as they shared a brief gaze.

"I believe this to be somewhat overdue," he said, shuffling his feet, "but welcome to the team."

"Thank you." Grimhilde responded. She looked down her lying form, breaking from Phonium's eye contact, as she added on, "I hope you will forgive me for any injury I have caused you."

"The only one who should apologize is your master." Phonium asserted, with a slight growl in his voice.

At this Grimhilde seemed taken aback. Her eyes quivered, as did her voice, as she wondered aloud, "I knew of every detail of my creation, how he painstakingly crafted me. Why would he throw it all away?"

"I suggest you stop trying to make sense of how Ratcliff's mind works." Reitoko interjected, "It has done wonders for me. No surprise why she would hire such a maniac."

The clacking of keys and the sound of electronic blips, doing their best to keep up with Grimhilde's heartbeat filled the void of silence. Every few seconds, Mrs. Smitter would furrow her eyebrows, and rub her forehead. Her golden eyes seemed to lose their luster as time dragged on. Phonium stood still as a statue, his arms folded, yet clearly uncomfortable.

Mrs. Smitter shook her head. She rose, her hands supporting her ascension. She eyed both Reitoko and Phonium, grim darkness casting a shadow over her face.

"It's exactly as advertised." she announced, "Her cells are being destroyed, in a slow controlled manner. I can't pinpoint exactly what is doing this, whether it be enzymes, proteins, or even hostile cells."

From her prone position, the chords of countless electrodes shook, as Grimhilde turned her head, asking "Can you find a cure?"

Mrs. Smitter looked down upon the creature, "Unless I find a cause, then no."

Grimhilde's eyes tore away from the sight of the doctor. Her lids-half shut, she could feel biological mechanics in her eyes beginning to well up. But nothing came from that. Still, she took care to hide her face from the others.

"She shouldn't stay in here." Phonium suddenly decided.

"She'll need to if I can find a cure." Mrs. Smitter disagreed.

"And if you don't?" Phonium challenged, causing the doctor to arch her eyebrows, "Her last day, spent inside a medical ward wasting away, what a pitiful end."

Mrs. Smitter let her eyes close. Somberly, she turned her sight to her latest patient.

"Well," she proposed, "What would Grimhilde want?"

The creature's eyes moved from Phonium, to Mrs. Smitter. Back and forth, they went, as she pondered. She then looked to the screen. A cathode diagram of her body, with several red dots upon it caught her attention. She paid attention to the ECG line of her heart beat, watching every spike, and hearing every beat. Even now, as the suns began to set upon the horizon, the thought of her heart stopping seemed far-fetched.

"We are in a populous area. I would like to venture out there." she decided.

"Good," Phonium smirked, "Then it's settled."

"I wouldn't get so carried away." Reitoko cautioned, "We are in a Neo-Terran area. They will not take so kindly to the creature that caused them casualties."

"They can address me with their grievances." Phonium responded rather astutely.

" If that's decided, then I'll need a sample of Grimhilde's blood." Mrs. Smitter explained, already near her equipment drawer, searching for a syringe, "I'll need to keep studying her cells. Maybe, just maybe, I can find an antidote..."

...

Ovosh could feel her heart beat even faster as she attacked the air itself. Her loose clothing shook with every fist unleashed. Drops of sweat, quaint, yet noticeable flowed down her forehead. For nearly an hour, this regimen she had repeated. No longer did exhaustion or soreness overtake her as before. Yet, her novice days as a warrior were still fresh in her mind.

Illuminated by stained sunlight, the form of Victor stood near the window. He was currently facing out it, yet at every opportunity, stole glances of Ovosh as she toiled in her craft. In his hands were mechanical trinkets, which he deftly assembled and disassembled as instinctively as Ovosh rehearsed her routine.

Ovosh was then alerted by a familiar presence. She put a halt to her exercises, jolting her head to the side.

From the shadows emerged Phonium. As always, he wore a stone-faced expression, that even the most skilled sculptors would have incredible difficulty chipping away at. Behind him, the monstrous form of Grimhilde became visible. Ovosh raised an eyebrow and let out a small, but noticeable exhale, before quickly turning her attention back to the Namekian.

"Boy! Ovosh!" Phonium shouted, effectively gaining the undivided attention of the two.

"Really? Boy?" Victor commented.

"Shut up, boy." Phonium shot back, a rare smile crossing his face. Victor, aghast and agitated, threw his hands up and rolled his eyes.

By now, both Ovosh and Victor had ceased their current endeavors. And both had now affixed their awed and frightened gazes upon Grimhilde.

Speaking for both, Ovosh said, "What is that?"

Phonium opened his mouth, but it was the creature who answered. "I am Grimhilde," she introduced, "a biomechanical creation infused with the DNA of multiple beings. Who are you?"

There was nothing but silence. Both Ovosh and Victor froze. Ovosh's eyes moved, as if their mere motion was needed to help her process this newest piece of information. Soon, a flat "What?" escaped her mouth.

But neither of their curiosities were satisfied. Ovosh was now on the receiving end of a glare from the Namekian, though she did not know the reason why. "This is Ovosh," he introduced, "She is my student."

"Oh?" Ovosh vocalized, now alternating gazes between Phonium's usual unforgiving demeanor, and the alien newcomer. At once, her old alliegence showed through, as her posture straightened, and she amicably responded, "Pleased to meet you. Is this biomechanical creation a new addition to our team?"

"Yes," Phonium answered, rather uncomfortably, "Yes. In a way. She once fought for Ratcliffe."

Ovosh tilted her head, "I don't believe I have encountered this Ratcliffe."

"Consider yourself fortunate that you will never have to." Phonium dismissed, "Ratcliff worked for Mura."

"I see," Ovosh nodded.

The ever-curious mechanic injected himself into the conversation. "So Phonium, what's the occasion for you and ... Grimhilde was it?"

Before Phonium could put together an answer, adrenaline shot though Ovosh's body, as a certain thought crossed her mind. Propping herself on her toes, she excitedly inquired, "Does she require any sort of training regimen? Or evaluation? I would be wiling..."

"No. Nothing like that." Phonium swiftly rejected, causing Ovosh to sink her shoulders. His eyes moved to the window, in which he could see the shadows grow long, and the sands of time running low. "I think it is best we acquainted ourselves to the surrounding areas, don't you think?"

Ovosh averted her gaze from Phonium "I don't know..." she began to say.

Victor, however, showed far more excitement, as he claimed, "I'd actually think that would be great! Though, then again, I don't know what those NTF types think about us."

Ovosh's disposition noticeably brightened upon Victor's suggestion. "Well, if you are enthusiastic about this, then I will be glad to accompany you."

Phonium nodded in approval, "Good. Don't dawdle, because we leave now."

...

Even as the afternoon grew long, and the day's work was coming to a close, the mills of humanity among the territorial terrans remained thick and ever moving. But, even among the varied crowd, the group of Phonium, Grimhilde, Ovosh and Victor stuck out like a jagged nail. All of them were met with gawks and stares of varying hostility.

But gawk and stare they only did, before shuffling along the street to continue their business. Waiting at a crossroad, many shops and stores lined the road, their rudimentary signs hanging proudly from overhead positions. As they moved with the crowd, Phonium let out a low grunt, as sweat began pouring out from his forehead.

"Damn," he exclaimed, using a green hand to soak in the twin-sun radiation, "it's only been a few days since I was left in that godforsaken desert. I should have brought some water."

"Sounds like you didn't think things through." Victor commented, prickly sarcasm spiking his voice.

"Shut up boy," Phonium shot back, as his eyes scanned the streets, "we should be able to find a vendor."

"Perhaps it would be better if we journeyed back to the compound to get our supplies?" Ovosh suggested.

The Namekian made eye-contact with Grimhilde, who had been looking everywhere but where she was heading. Her eyes were caught by the masses of people milling about their daily lives. She widened her eyes as she witnessed several small Terrans bouncing a small ball around, using just their feet. She then shuffled as a man, lying upon the side of the road strummed a stringed instrument in both of his hands. Phonium's gaze softened as he saw this.

"No! We'll be fine!" he insisted.

Eyeing a small shack, completely made from thin cracked concrete, Phonium redirected the group. They maneuvered through the crowd, managing to somehow find some form of space, before all four reunited in front of the shack.

A sign above it proudly hung the crudely painted word, "Water." Yet, the vendor in the shack, upon looking at Phonium and Grimhilde, shook his head, and directed the group away with a finger.

Phonium quickly reached into his back pocket. He held the items, paper marks that had some sort of value attached to them, nearly waving them in front of the man's face. In the back of his little room, he could see the stacks upon stacks of liquid within the plastic containers, their contents sealed off from him.

But again the man refused. A loud slam could be heard, as he pulled down a curtain, essentially closing his business for the day.

"The audacity!" Phonium grumbled, feeling his throat begin to dry, "I even had the right amount of money!"

"We are in Neo-Terran Front territory." Victor reminded, along with a slight waver in his voice.

Phonium could only bow down his head, no retort or scold in hand to reprimand the young mechanic, who winced in anticipation. Instead, he could only say, "I'm starting to regret coming out here."

"Don't,"

Phonium feet a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, it belonged to Grimhilde. Despite her alien features, her face was bright. Her eyes, something that one could find on a monster, even seemed to sparkle.

"What?" he responded, aghast.

"It's beautiful," Grimhilde said looking around, soaking in the dirt, the grime, the life that walked before her eyes. "I've never seen anything like it, at least not right here."

A small smile formed on Phonium's face. He made an attempt to hide it, but could not will himself to express anything else.

The group pressed on. Victor shifted from vendor to vendor, ahead of the group, in order to make a good first impression. Yet, upon observing the company he kept, each vendor summarily turned the young man away.

Near the end of the street, a store with the sign "Terran Renaissance" affixed to the top was the last visited by Victor. Behind, an older gentleman with a face that could have been fixed to a stuffed animal leaned forward. Despite the dingy state of the building he resided in, his apron was nearly immaculate, and the maroon shirt he wore underneath appeared to suffer no blemish.

He gave Victor a smile, which showed white teeth. That smile did not disappear when the rest of the group showed up, though the man regarded Phonium and Grimhilde with a slight arch of his eyebrows.

"Why hello there!" the man said in a warm, aged voice, "We serve ancient Terran east islander cuisine! Care for some?"

"Sure, whatever that means," Phonium said. Already, he could feel his mouth begin to moisten.

There were simple wooden stools in front of the vendor. Phonium and Grimhilde took the two rightmost ones, while Ovosh and Victor were on the left. A young man within the shop, behind the owner immediately began pulling out ingredients, as well as pots and pans

The owner put on a tall white hat, and began to turn around. As he did this, Phonium said, "Thanks for your willingness to do business with us. Some of us were getting pretty hungry."

The man turned around, and gave Phonium a rather amused look. "But why would someone like you want to do business with a bunch of peach colored aliens like us?" he proposed, "Don't you feel much more comfortable among your own kind?"

Phonium's gaze turned to stone in an instant, "I would be more comfortable, if there were any of us left." he grimly responded.

Despite his nerves being tickled, the man appeared apologetic. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Phonium dismissed, "you've said enough."

The young man in the kitchen had finished. Upon a black tray, four bowls that he could have easily fit his head into were presented. There was a heavy thud as he set them down on the table in front of the four.

Each bowl was distributed. The young man then swiftly brought out four clay-colored mugs, and immediately began splashing water in them. Upon his mug being filled, Phonium, in no more than one whole second, had thrown back almost all of the water, slamming down the mug as he finished and giving a satisfied exhale.

Ovosh peered inside the bowl that she had been served. In a tan colored-broth, she recognized several stringy yellow-colored noodles that she had enjoyed in hasty meal situations back at Z's original compound. Several vegetables, some orange, some green floated around in the liquid, but Ovosh's chopsticks, generously handed to her by the shop owner, pushed them aside.

One item did catch her eye. It was pink and curled. Her wooden sticks poked at the item, and it swiveled through the broth.

She heard a kindly old laugh, and looked up. "And that, my young lady," the owner said, "is what you call a prawn."

"Is it good?" Ovosh questioned.

"Good?" he asked back, apparently amused, "Why would I put it in my soup if I didn't think it was good?"

"An excellent point," the girl conceded.

At once, a torrent of noodles, prawns, and vegetables ascended from the bowl, compelled by Ovosh's utensils, into her waiting mouth. The ravenous sounds of consumption, of slurping noodles, crunching vegetables and obliterating meat could be heard down the street. Victor watched in awe, already feeling his stomach fill, despite not taking a single bite.

Phonium was the other who did not touch his bowl. He was feeling rejuvinated, now merely sipping upon his water. Next to him, a single noodle disappeared into Grimhilde's beaked mouth, and she expressed delight at the auditory sensation.

But, upon seeing the full bowl of noodles in front of Phonium, she asked, "Namekian, aren't you going to consume that?"

"Well, isn't that familiar?" Phonium said, swirling the noodles around.

"What?" Grimhilde questioned.

Phonium dismissed the comment he pressed. Instead, he explained, "Namekians only subsist on water."

With that being said, he placed his hand on the side of his bowl. The vessel was slid down the length of the table, spilling some of its precious broth. Ovosh had finished off the last drop of her dish, sipping the liquid most selfishly from the bowl and slamming it down. Her bowl was then butted out of the way, replaced with Phonium's untouched dish. Without missing a beat, Ovosh resumed her carnage, enacting her culinary massacre upon the Namekian's abandoned dish.

A fistful of bills occupied the store owner's hand as he waved good-bye to the members of Z. The streets had begun to clear out, for evening was now in full force. Another musician on the side of the street, this time a female, was blowing into a brass-reed instrument and swaying with the rhythm that she herself created. Looking to Grimhilde as they walked, Phonium could see her head swinging to the steady tempo of the music, despite the volatile note structure.

The setting suns ignited the sky in a fiery orange hue. Even the Neo-Terran standards, standards of a faction that was not exactly kind to Z, waved pridefully in the sunlight. As one of the suns began to disappear behind the silhouette of the distant dunes, Victor inadvertently grabbed Ovosh's hand. Upon realizing this, Ovosh turned to him, and Victor tried, unsuccessfully, to pull away, for Ovosh had secured his hand in place.

They had made their way to the outskirts of the village, with nothing but the setting lamps being the noteworthy sights. And what a noteworthy sight it was, as the canvas of the sky became a multi-color masterpiece as the day drew to a close. All this caused Grimhilde to stare in awe and wonder, and for a moment, all was forgotten, as she began to see with her own eyes, the shadow of eternity.

And she was brought back to the ground. Kneeling over, she wheezed and coughed. Alarm and despair took Phonium's face, for he recognized the color she stained the sand with. Her coughs crescendoing into hacks, the Namekian reached out with a hand, steadying Grimhilde's chest as she continued spilling out her insides. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ovosh and Victor rushing over to assist him.

...

Nearly no time had passed before Grimhilde was where she began with Z, attached to machinery, upon a doctor's bed. A snake like tube with a breathing apparatus was now over her beak-like mouth, but her own breath, sounding almost synthesized through the device, was drawn and haggard.

Nearly all of Z was in the doctor's office. Ovosh and Victor were together, in front of the entrance. Reitoko and Phonium were at Grimhilde's bedside. Mr. Smitter monitored the gigantic wall-mounted screen, while Mrs. Smitter worked away at her console, her hair becoming messy, and her eyes forming dark circles under them.

"I had all day, and I'm no closer..." she could only mutter as her movements became even more desperate.

The creature's breaths were growing short. A glazed look took her eye, as the gates to the unknown drew close to her. Phonium grabbed Grimhilde's hand, as if the action would allow her to remain anchored in this mortal realm. But her efforts grew fainter by the second.

"Senzu," he suggested, through it almost sounded as if he was begging, "try a senzu, maybe that will buy you some time!"

"Right!" Mrs. Smitter nodded. Beneath her white coat, she produced one of the grey beans. Flying behind the controls, she moved to the bedside, exhibiting little bedside manner as she ripped off Grimhilde's breathing apparatus, and forced the healing consumable down her mouth.

For but a moment, the air went still. Grimhilde let out an exhale, that led to a calm silence. But the eye of the storm had passed, for a vicious cough soon followed. Mortal liquid spewed from her mouth. She threw her head back, her breaths short.

One of her hands weakly rose, the one on the side of Phonium, beckoning him to come forth. Phonium leaned over, his lips quivering, for he could see that the beyond was not so far away.

"Thank you, Phonium. " she said in a whisper.

Grimhilde's vision blurred, as she took in all the faces that stared back down at her, some looking horrified, and some only expressing sorrow. But these emotions were alien to her. Instead, despite her master's protocol that she would suffer, she could only feel the bliss that came with falling asleep.

The oscilloscope measuring the creature's heartbeat showed a line that ran straight across the graph. Grimhilde's eyes had fully closed, and all movement had stopped.

The only one to move was Phonium, as he turned away and bowed his head. There were legends of old, old wives tales that rumored that Namekian's did not possess tear ducts. These legends became mere myths, as Phonium exited the room.