EPILOGUE: DESTINY

LaROUCHE

I stood in the Ether with the man named Whistler.

Perhaps, 'man', isn't a good word to describe him, because the things that Whistler was capable of were things that no 'man' could do.

For instance, stopping time to prevent the Ragnarok Stone from leaving my dimension and all other realities bleeding into each other, allowing the Stone to leave this dimensional plane and find it's way back to Hell, itself.

Or at least, that's what he told me.

"You did good back there, kid. Real good."

"Thanks, I guess."

"No, seriously. You set events in motion, that will, eventually, end at some very positive destinations. Because of you, a creature from this dimension has gone on a quest to bring champions, from another reality, to fight David Taggart, and stop this stinkin' Apocalypse from ever happening. Without you, none of it would be possible."

"I'm still a bit fuzzy on what happened."

"When you attacked David, the Machine, within the Stone, sensed that it's time was near. It called Aleks to come and claim it when it's power was at it's peak. The Stone caused Aleks' hand to burst into flame, causing an explosion that set off the time-bomb. Since you were in Z-Space, it acted as an enhancer, allowing the bomb to rip reality apart at the seams."

"Woah, cosmic."

"You've got no idea," Whistler said, in his turn of the century, Brooklyn accent.

"I still don't get a lot of it."

"Yeah, I know. It's all terribly confusing."

"What exactly are you?" I asked

Whistler laughed good-naturedly, "I used to be a human, and a lousy one, at that. Had some problems with the mob back in '19, and I managed to take down a platoon of Shifty's that they sent after me. Long story short, the Power saw that I was a good person, and It offered me a position: To be it's direct messenger on the mortal plane."

"So…you're an Angel?"

Whistler smiled, "Not really. Try Demon."

I jumped back, "DEMON?!"

"Sure! Not all Demons are dedicated to the destruction of all life, you know. I'm just a guy that is more than a normal human being, who speaks for the Power on all occasions."

"When you say that you speak to the Power…does that mean your all high and mighty with God?"

"I suppose. I mean, I'm no saint. Even though I'm immortal, this job is taking it's toll on me. I'm tired of it all, some of the things I've seen…just…I find it difficult to do it. The Power promised me that after the Beast was defeated, I could train a replacement."

I had a sneaking suspicion… "You want me to replace you?"

"HECK NO! You've still got a LOT to do down there. I've chosen Sanders to replace me. He'll take over soon enough."

"What are the thing you've seen, that made it so bad?" I asked, confused at what would be so terrible.

"Like…this." Whistler snapped his fingers, and we instantly stood on a long, flat, blasted plane, surrounded by massive mountains in the distance. The sky itself was fire, and a hard wind, carrying dust, swept by.

"This is the plateau of Targototh," Whistler said, "And that is the Dark Tower of Gharanz-Tyre," He pointed to a MASSIVE, jet black structure, jutting high into the sky.

"It was raised by the Demon Ovilkhan, the HellSmith, so many eons ago. The home of the Dark Lord," He said grimly, "In a dimension of fear, on a mountain of death, in a castle of skulls, he sits on a throne of blood."

Tower upon tower…battlement upon battlement. Thick and impenetrable stone, surrounded by walls and gates, heads of many different species jutting on pikes upon the fortress's walls.

Buzzing around the highest visible point of the tower, (before it entered the black clouds) encircled hundreds…no…thousands…of winged, blazing skeletons, small chunks of flesh still hanging stubbornly to the bone.

"Dracs, the soldier Demon. Skeletons imbued with living Dracon energy. This is what becomes of the dead who choose the Machine over the Power. "

A lone Drac flew down and landed not a hundred feet away. It's skull was topped by demonic horns, it's eyes red, blazing orbs. It was surrounded by red, flowing Dracon, and in it's hand was a flaming, red sword.

"For many eons, these Dracs were let loose upon all reality. They filled every world with their Hordes, making said dimensions like this world, Tartarus."

He started to say more, but on top of a massive, black mountain in the distance, was a creature, twenty feet high, holding a blue, flaming sword, called a bone-chilling war-cry. It looked like a scarred and bloody, humanoid lion, all it's mane burnt away save a few tufts, with giant, blood-shot eyes.

"GRAAAAARRRHHHAAA!!!"

"That's Azorath. The word means 'twisted,' as it rightfully should be. Azorath was once a Maiar, the greatest friend of Marius, the Dark Lord when his heart was still good. He defied the Power and was twisted and mutilated into that ruined being. He personifies everything that the Machine would have done to all Reality, if no one stood in It's way."

Whislter looked at Azorath, saddened, and said, "Do you wish to see more?"

"No."

Whistler flicked his fingers, and we were back in the Ether.

"What gives you the right," I asked, "To play games with us all?"

"I don't have the right. It's the Power. And it isn't a game, it's a design. It has a plan, and nothing is left to vain or chance."

"It used me! It used us all! It manipulated us at every turn, and YOU helped It!"

"Yeah, I did."

"You used as…as…fucking TOYS! Chess pieces!"

"We did."

"So what gives you the right? I'm DEAD now, because of you and your stupid wars! Is this what you wanted? David STILL succeeded, even though I TRIED to stop him! Mephisto has still won!"

"No. He hasn't. Even now, a being of great power and substance from your dimension has used innate abilities to leave, to find a group of warriors capable of defeating the Beast and his minions."

"Great," I said, "Now I get to go back and fight some more."

"Yes! That's what it is, LaRouche. You are a soldier for the Power. You fight for Good because your heart is true and pure. In the ancient prophecies, you were known as the Loyal, and with Skorre, the Warrior, and Sara, the Innocent, you can defeat the Beast and the Mercenary!"

"What about Ripper?"

"Ripper still has a part to play, for good or ill. He will determine the fate of many. He must still redeem himself, which he will, and you will help him."

"That doesn't make any sense at all."

"It doesn't have to. You don't have to understand Fate, Marc LaRouche. You and these warriors, from another universe, are all that stand between the preservation of life and slavery, tyranny and Hell itself. Soon, the fates of all will be decided, when worlds collide."

Whistler looked a me, with a slight twinkle in his eye, "Already have your allies, and all who perished, been called back. You must now go, back, and fulfill your destiny. There is still so much that must be done, and by you, most of all."

"Like what?"

"You couldn't imagine. Your going to change a lot, kid, and you'll do fine. At long last, the prophecies  of old have at last come true. The Yeerk Empire holds the galaxy in it's claws, while the Andalites have floundered. Men have taken on Demonic traits, and a Beast has succeeded in its grim task."

"Prophecies!" I scoffed, "I had a hand in all that."

"Surely you don't doubt the authenticity of the prophecies simply because you helped to bring them about," Whistler laughed, "More than one force is at work in this battle, kid. I'd be lying if I told you that none of fate was left to chance or choice. But what was foretold has, nonetheless, come to pass."

Whistler went on, "You are but a very small person, Marc LaRouche, and although I am very fond of you, it is quite a large universe out there, and there are other worlds than these."

"So what lies ahead?" I asked.

"For you? Shadow and Fire. Nothing but Shadow and Fire. Although, I can offer one small bit of advice…"

"And what would that be?" I asked, uncertain if I wanted to hear it or not.

"When it comes down to it, let me take care of the Mercenary and his ghostly ally. You don't want his kind of blood on your hands, kid. It burns."

"Who's the Mercenary?" I asked, "Who is his ally?"

"Havn't you figured it out yet?" Whistler replied, "It's…"

I tried to hear what else Whistler had to say, but already I was being sucked back through time, and into life. Time was moving backwards, because something in the past had changed. I slowly forgot all that I had been shown…Demons and Dracs and Azoraths and Dark Towers and Tartarus…

I woke up, and I was in the air, on patrol, with Sara, when a most unusual sight caught my eye…

Sara, does that look like a Hawk to you?

Definitely, LaRouche. A Human-controller in morph. Let's get him!

And we dove!

The End…for now…