Here you guys go! Sorry for the immense wait, but a lot has been going on. Prom is in a month, and right after that comes the anime con (My very first one! Hurrah!) and I just got early acceptance to three great universities, so school is now my #1 top priority (bleeeaaaarrrgh!). But enough of my prattling! Enjoy, minna-san! – Lady PhoenixDagger *//.^*

*****

My children…Are they even still alive?

Mother?

Belle looked up from where she sat in the centre of her bed, and scrubbed a shaking hand over her eyes. "Yes, Kari?"

It came today. Kari stepped into Gill and Belle's bedroom, her hands lightly brushing the doorframe, for today the sun was bright outside and she wore her blindfold to avoid its stinging rays.

"What did, dear?" Standing up from her bed, the ageless psionicist quickly shed her mask of grief for one of expressionlessness.

A sheet of paper was fluttered onto the bed. Belle picked it up. It was a photocopy of something.

Black Hood has formally challenged us. We have one month from tomorrow to prepare. Walker, Darien, Ryu and myself are to go.

Belle dropped the paper and leaned heavily against her nightstand. "Why hasn't the law gotten involved? Or the government? The prize is human lives, for God's sake!"


There's no evidence. Black Hood has gotten good at covering themselves. If we tell about the prisoners, then they'll all be killed. There's even a dummy prize of one billion dollars to make it look legitimate. We're trapped any way we turn.

"Any news on what happens if we lose?"

No, Black Hood is still keeping that their own little secret.

Belle set the photocopy on her dresser, touching it like it was lethally poisonous. She bit her lip. "I see you've taken to sleeping in Trowa's bed," she said. It wasn't an accusation, but merely a statement of fact. Perhaps that's why it stung all the worse.

Even without turning, Belle could almost feel Kari's entire frame stiffen. Perhaps, she replied carefully.

"You miss him." Belle's tone explicitly spoke of how frightened she knew Kari was. Of how she terrified she was of losing the one who she had fallen so willingly for. Of how with such little time Trowa had touched her heart like no one ever had. Of how she wanted nothing more than to hold him once again. It was terrifying how much she could say with so few words.

Yes, Kari admitted. I do.

"You love him."

Silence.

"It wasn't a question, Kari. I know completely aware of how you feel. I'm just afraid that you might not know it yourself. Both of you have had such little love. It was like I could feel your minds clinging to each other's."

Kari still said nothing.

"If it's any comfort to you, he loves you back. I could feel it whenever he looked at you." Belle's hands restlessly travelled over the contents of her dresser as she spoke, caressing a bottle of perfume, fingering the bristles on her hairbrush. It was as if her hands were desperate to find the smallest portions of normalcy and hold them fast. Her voice trembled. "He's gone from my mind's grasp -they all are. It's the suicide collars. They block out any outside minds. But I know he loves you still."

I know. The blinded fighter slumped onto the bed and drew her knees up to her chest like she did as a little girl freshly rescued from the hold of Black Hood. Belle sat next to her, hugging her like a tiny blonde child, catching the fruity smell of the lip gloss Trowa had given Kari for Christmas. A tiny gasp fought past Kari's lips and silently, tearlessly, she began to cry.

Why him, Mother? Why Misty? Why any of them?

"Because Black Hood wants to make our lives hell, child. All they've left us is a tiny precipice to stand on." The ageless woman brushed Kari's bangs from her face. "All we can do is claw our way to the edge and try to push the bastards off." Gently, she kissed Kari's cheek and let her go, moving to her dresser to pull something from its depths. Sitting back on the bed, she laid her find in Kari's hands. "Here."

Sensitive fingers travelled over the hard, glassy surface of the treasure and down to the ornately coiled metal base. What is this?

"It's a thoughtdrop." Belle sat down and laid the fighter's head on her lap. "Tell it your outlooks. Let it be like a diary of thought." She gently stroked Kari's hair in a gesture of motherly camaraderie. "You can put down some romantic thoughts to show to Trowa later on if you like. I won't look in it and no one need ever know I gave it to you."

Kari said nothing, but wrapped her arms around Belle's shoulders and squeezed. Thank you, Mother.

"You're welcome, child."

Gil found them hours later, still sitting on the edge of the bed, Kari's head on Belle's lap. Belle smiled bravely at her husband as he entered the room and stood, easing Kari onto the bed. Gil took her up in his arms as she laid her head on his shoulder and softly began to cry.

"There's nothing we can do now."

*****

Some people say that when you love someone enough, you would do anything for them. I didn't know this was actually true until I turned fourteen and became what some people would call a 'normal girl'. I was suddenly granted a mother and a father. That was my introduction to familial love, a love that my own mother, the famed Aletha the Render never showed me. Soon after, I met Misty and she became my best friend and after that I met Relena, Cathy, Duo, Quatre, Wufei and Heero. That's the love of true friends. It was only recently that I got to discover the other kind -that wonderful, terrifying kind of love- until I met Trowa.

And now Black Hood is trying to take it all away from me.

Haven't they done enough to me!? They've already ravaged my sight, my body, my childhood. Why do they want my love as well?

Our training began today. The fiery hammer of God is now raised. Soon we will be ready enough to let it fall.

Black Hood will pay.

*****

The woods are burning. Run faster, boy.

Panting with fear, the boy, his body covered over in scars, still runs, his child's body racked with pain as his oxygen starved muscles scream for air. Still he runs, fear taking precedent over mere bodily pain. Landscape flashes by in a confused blur, blending into one: fire ravaged woodlands; cities totally destroyed, their buildings ripped apart; an immense stone Keep, its grounds awash with fresh blood; laboratories of clones, the fluid drained from their tanks, slowly suffocating.

It's your doing, boy.

And still he runs.

The inside of a hospital flashes by, voices ringing within.

"…still no progress, neither good nor bad…"

"…everything still hangs in stasis…"

"…Nurse, my eyes are bleeding again…"

"…why won't you just let me die!?!?!"

You could have saved them.

The kitchen of a home, filled again with voices.

"…my chest…it burns…"

"…cut…cut…watch it bleed…cut…cut…watch it bleed…"

"…dammit, don't die on me!!!"

"…what the hell happened to us…?"

They loved you and you left them.

A black Void, filled with nothingness.

"…the Judges await your verdict…"

"…join the Righteous…"

"…be the Forsaken…"

"…choose…"

But you won't, will you?

A man with black hair is standing now in a field. His eyes dart like frightened children in their sockets, his hands making erratic movements in his sleeves. He smiles, his teeth slick with blood glinting in the midday sun. He turns, and his body silently disappears, flocks of birds flying madly from his vacant clothes.

A boy is wearing a stone on a fine silver chain around his head. He is surrounded by dreamdrops, watching them glint and twirl. Each one shows him their bounty, filling him again and again with affection and horror as he watches. There is a something in his hand. Slowly, dazedly, he depresses it and his ashes are scattered with the wind.

A boy in a blindfold stands with a girl by his side. She stares, emerald green eyes glinting in the sun, her long hair blowing loose in the wind. The boy clutches his abdomen, writhing in pain as he stands, his face a rictus of pure horror. Something evil grows inside him.

A girl wearing a dress that is torn up the bodice, revealing the silhouette of a rose branded into her pale flesh, is crying. She wears a wedding band that sparkles in the painful brightness of the sun. A boy next to her wears its twin, his hands clutching his midsection, his mouth locked in a silent scream of pain. That which is evil wishes to consume him as well.

A boy surrounded by birds holds a sword, his eyes crying but his face locked in a scowl as a bird rests easily on his shoulder. A young woman's shadow passes over him, laughing, but it is fleeting and soon fades to nothing.

Two lovers locked in each other's arms see nothing but each other, drinking one another in, even as pestilence eats them from the inside out.

A boy wearing golden bracers watches them all. His hands are locked over the hole that has opened where he has been stabbed through the heart. His eyes see all, but remain inwardly dead.

The boy with the scars stops running. His body cries for rest, but he cannot grant it. No. Not here.

A man with the form of a great, black cat stands before him, feline hands curled around a slender staff. Fate. That which gleefully watches lives tear themselves apart. That which tortures its prey before finally allowing it to die. It watches the boy lying in a terrified heap at its feet and smiles.

Run to daylight, boy. Run to the night. Either way, I shall be awaiting your arrival.

Dreamily, dazed with exhaustion and fear, the child watches as Darkness and Light gather in wonder around him and pull back, just as Fate raises its staff and plunges it downward, its needle-sharp tip aiming straight and true for the boy's heart.

Remember this, boy:

You will always belong to me…

*****

"Nat! Nat!" Shaking him by the lapels of his pyjamas, Iondra finally jerked her husband awake. "Wake up!"

Nat sat up, gasping. His face was pale as the moonlight filtering in through the window of their bedroom and his hair was sodden with sweat. "Wha-"

"You were shouting in your sleep, Nat."

The elderly mage scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. "I saw another one."

The fiery-eyed sorceress hunkered closer to him, fascination etched clearly on her face. "Another vision?" she asked in wonder. "Is it the same one you've been having lately?" She sat up. "Did it have an ending this time?"

"Yes," Nat admitted, getting out of bed. He made his way to the bathroom and Iondra could hear the rush of the tap fighting for dominance over her husband's voice. "But it was different this time. There was more detail. And that ending…." There was a pause as Nat drained the cup of water he'd filled for himself. "I think this vision could be definite."

"Nat, you know that's completely impossible!" Iondra scolded. Nat sighed and got back into bed, but didn't answer. "The stream of time is far too unsure for there to be such thing as a definite occurance. You're just imagining things."

"No, I'm not."

"It's impossible, Nachtaim Raihynn, and I'm quite sure you are more than aware of that!"

"We also thought that the Prophecies getting more than four lines a year was impossible," Nat reminded her, his voice rising. "I know what I saw, woman, and I can tell you for certain that it wasn't hazy in the least!"

"A fine thing to say!" Iondra shouted back. "Do you even have any idea when this elusive vision will happen, or even what it's telling you!?"

Silence.

"I thought so."

Biting back a snarl, Nat reached under his pillow and pulled out a freshly filled dreamdrop. "Either way, I can run this thing past the others and see what can be pulled from it. Now let's let this thing drop and get some bloody sleep!" He tossed the drop back under his pillow and lay back down. "Everyone is already under enough stress as it is. Don't make it worse by insisting that you're right."

Iondra sniffed at him. "And what if I am right?"

Nat rolled over to look at her. So close were they that she could feel his beard tickling her face. "Honestly my dear," he said, his voice terribly grave, "you have no idea how much I'm hoping you are." He rolled back over. "Good night."

Iondra bit her lip and threw an arm around his waist, though she knew full well that it was too little too late. "Good night, dear." She closed her eyes and tried to think of how right she knew she was, but even then it was a long time until she could fall asleep.

*****

Training has been going well. I haven't missed a day yet, and neither have Walker, Darien or Ryu. Already I have advanced my reflexes and my response times are getting better. I'm hitting harder and faster every day. I don't think I've been doing anything else. I leave for the Keep in the morning, come home in the evening after training, eat supper and then go straight to bed. I've quit going to school for now. Education can't help me in what I'm getting ready to do. Relena's been bringing me the homework from my classes, not that I'll get around to doing it.

Ever since they were taken, Relena's been doing her part around the school community, spreading around the rumour that all five of the boys and Misty have been felled by a collective bout of the chicken pox that has become acute pneumonia around New Year's. We can't let anyone know that Misty and the boys are gone for the sake of their safety. Apparently Quatre caught the bug from some unnamed person in his physics class and then spread it around to the other boys, Duo being the one to have then given it to Misty. The story's a little thin, but the school's not about to ask and no one would want to visit a freak's house to enquire about one's health, so we're safe for the time being. Relena's actually been holding up well these past few weeks, collecting homework and giving it to others in the Keep to finish in what looks like Misty and the boys' handwriting, providing the dangerously curious with hastily made-up health reports, feeding Xiao and keeping Shinigami-kun occupied to keep him from going into bouts of hysterical crying. She was obviously devastated in the beginning, but now it's sort of fizzled out into purposeful numbness. Relena knows something has to be done and so she tries her best to get it finished. It seems that underneath that soft little exterior lies the heart of a true pragmatist. Get it all over with and cry later. Worrying accomplishes nothing, so it need not be done.

I wish I was like that.

*****

"Ryu, wake up." Rolling her eyes, Ria prodded the huge Japanese man dozing next to her. It was about eleven o'clock on a Saturday night and they were alone in his apartment, sitting on the couch. The lights were dimmed and in front of them lay the wreckage of a half-eaten dinner for two from the Chinese restaurant downstairs. Even now, the sound of muffled chatter and the clink of silverware on china filtered through the air ducts along with the scent of fried rice and spicy beef. It was the first time since the tournament's proclamation that they were alone, but instead of feeling the sense of warm comfort they both craved, the atmosphere was tinged with agitated stillness, which was made steadily worse as they tried to ignore it.

Ryu snorted and moved away from her finger, but did not wake. Ria growled to herself and jabbed him with a chopstick. "Ryu!"

A blood-red eye slid lethargically open. "Mm?"

"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." Ria kissed him on the nose and slid a furtive hand up his shirt. "Tickle, tickle."

"You know I'm not ticklish."

Rolling her eyes, Ria picked up the container of lo mein. "You are such a dork." She held it out to him. "Want some?"

"I'm not a fan, thank you." The massive fighter extended his arms, snapping various stiffened joints and picked up his own chopsticks. "Pass the rice."

The couple ate in silence, listening to the wordless chatter of happier people going on below them mingle with the inner skrinch of crispy noodles being thoughtfully chewed.

"Ryu?" The red-haired healer set down her container.

"Mm?"

A scared little girl look skipped fleetingly over her face for a scant moment. "I…you know the tournament?"

Ryu set his own dinner down. "Yes," he said carefully.

"D'you really think…" She bit her lip. "D'you really think that…."

"Yes?" The word was not said unkindly as he slid a powerful arm around her waist and squeezed gently. "Don't tell me you think I'll lose."

"No! No, it's not that. I just…. What if Black Hood is lying?" A tear patted onto her cheek. "What if my sister is already…."

The rest of her sentence was swallowed into a sob.

"I haven't seen her in months, dammit! What if I never-"

"Shhh, don't say that." From under the table, Ryu's cat -a former stray he had picked up and christened Neko- began stalking up to the last sorry shreds of Peking duck. Angrily, Ryu kicked, scaring him away and continued. "Black Hood isn't stupid. They know they have what we want and they aren't about to just let it slip from their hands."

"But will she be the same?"

Gazing into her emerald eyes, Ryu realised with a leaden heart that he could not lie to her. But neither could he give her a straight answer. Of the two of them, he was the only one who actually knew first-hand the extensive levels of cruelty Black Hood was capable of. He held his girlfriend closer and pressed her head into his shoulder.

"I suppose," he finally said, "that we'll have to find out in three weeks time."

*****

Trowa's clothes don't smell like him anymore.

*****

Darien's fingers glided effortlessly over the keys of the piano before him, coaxing out a particularly bad rendition of the Fur Elise. Sighing, he began again, his foot impatiently compressing the pedals. This time he managed to botch it on the first note. Finally he gave up and sat away from the keys, thoroughly defeated by the elusiveness of concentration. His mind simply refused to focus on anything as of late. The tournament was in two weeks and every thought he had in an effort to forget it doubled back and returned, leaving him back where he started.

At least Dad was finding a way to keep his mind off of things tonight. Darien bit off a sigh as he heard the voice of Mackenzie Goodman exclaim like an over excited schoolgirl through the heating ducts over Ali's newest painting, a female nude. For the last few weeks Mackenzie –or Mackie, as he preferred to be called- was over almost every day, making dinner with Marrigan or learning how to paint from Ali. He helped Ria with her studies in Healing, watched Tama train with her battleaxe and debated with Zach about the finer points of medicine and philosophy until dawn, all without any mention of Misty or her friends whatsoever. Mackenzie was a teacher, a friend and, in a pinch, a shoulder to cry on. The man was totally perfect, and because of this, Darien hated him. It wasn't that the man wasn't genuine, it was that he was far too genuine and that set the dark-haired man's hackles up. He kept reminding Darien of an old Keep saying that had been running through his mind lately: "Fear the good man, for it is his blade that cuts the deepest."

The only non-obsessively-friendly trait Mackie had was that he meticulously avoided Walker for the few moments between his returning home from training, the hasty swallowing of his supper and immediate departure to bed. His reasoning was that the Lord of Alaryan's Keep was probably too tired to want to talk. And then he would change the subject. Ever suspicious, Darien refused to believe him.

"I love your use of warm media here to accent the highlights in your subject's hair, Ali!" came the ecstatic squeal down the pipes. Ali's embarrassed answering rumble was too low to be heard. Snarling, Darien slammed the cover shut on the piano keys and stalked off to bed, cursing under his breath the little arrogant asshole that had invaded his family.

*****

I remember when I was small, my mother took me to the Ring for my debut. Aletha the Render, feared first officer, presents her daughter: a tender six years of age and about to enter her odyssey into Hell. When I left Black Hood years later, I swore nothing could force me into going back. Now here I am, pulling on my old self and revisiting the wretched shackles of my former existence. I still have nightmares of the Detroit base, the place of my birth. It was there I was brought howling into this world and it was there that I was silenced. I'm not the only one who fears the place. There are some survivors, pictures of stamina and power, who blubber at the name Black Hood and who wail like terrified children at the sound of my mother's name.

So what will happen when we get there? Will we get a fair fight? I hardly think so. Black Hood isn't really renown for an impeccable set of morals. Perhaps we'll be led away and quietly disposed of. Perhaps we'll just be killed on the spot. Or maybe my mother's famous sense of humour will thrust its way through and we'll be served the captives –nicely browned- on silver platters.

God, how I hate this.

*****

"Did you ever wonder what it'd be like if I was human?"

Amy sat bolt upright, startled by the abruptness of the question Walker had just posed. They sat together in her apartment, lounging on the couch, watching TV. The window was open a crack to admit a cool spring breeze, bearing a silent reminder that April was coming, and with it would come the tournament. There was but one week remaining. Amy shifted uncomfortably. She also knew it was the month of Misty's birthday. The missing girl was going to be eighteen this year.

"Well?"

Amy bit her lip. Questions about Black Hood were always picky territory between them. "You are human, Walker." An offending cushion was tossed on the floor as she leaned over and cuddled into his side.

Walker snorted. "Barely." Despite his irritation, he still wrapped a sturdy arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Amy noticed that his grip was more powerful than it normally felt to her. The training was obviously working. She snuggled further into the crook of his arm. "Just think of it. If I was just some baby born into the world without tubes or drugs or wings or claws or a tail or… or anything, none of this would be happening."

Amy bit her lip. She hated it when Walker allowed himself to be dragged under by guilt. It was like he thought every bad thing that ever happened to the whole of mankind was his fault somehow. "You're Black Hood's strongest opposition. Without you as you are to curb their actions, they would have gotten so much further."

"Without me as I am hundreds of innocent people would not have died," Walker said flatly, referring to the Ring event known as the "Cattle Kill", where normal humans were pulled off the street and hurled into the spotlight to defend themselves against Black Hood fighters. To date it was still going on and not one human hostage had ever survived.

Amy wriggled out from under his arm and glared at him. So this was how it was going to be. She narrowed her eyes. "Without you as you are dozens of captives would not have been freed. Kari would have ended up a bloodthirsty, hedonistic monster just like her mother and Ryu would have become either a lab experiment or another of Black Hood's male prostitutes after being retired from the Ring. Without you as you are the Keep would not have the strongest mage known to their history. Without you as you are you wouldn't have your family. Without you as you are the Bond would have no Keeper." Fully aware that she was shouting now, Amy sucked in a sharp breath and tried to control her voice. "And without you as you are I would be sitting here alone instead of next to the most perfect man in the world."

Walker blinked in surprise, sitting silently as the laugh track on the TV mocked how thoroughly he had just been shot down. He looked up at her. "You play dirty, Amy."

She grinned at him, inwardly relieved that she had managed to head off yet another emotional disaster. "I know."

Stretching, Walker got up and turned off the TV before heading off into the kitchen for a snack. He returned with a box of wheat thins and a half-full jar of salsa he'd excavated from the fridge and sat heavily down on the floor of the living room. "Amy?"

"Mmm?" She sat next to him and opened the jar of salsa.

"Are you scared? About the tournament, I mean."

Amy swallowed her bite of wheat thin and wiped her hands absently on her knees. "I don't know," she admitted. "Are you?"

"I don't know either." Walker played with a couple of crackers, arranging them into a tiny fort before tipping the whole fragile structure over. "I don't know how I should feel about this. All of me wants Misty and the boys back –I mean, that's why I'm doing this. But another part of me wants to get back into the Ring." He put his head in his hands. "Another part of me just wants to fight."

Slender arms found their way around broad, shaking shoulders and squeezed. "You can't blame yourself, Walker. You were bred to fight."

"No I wasn't, Amy!" Walker suddenly stood up, knocking her away. "Darien and I were born to be a breeding pair! The only reason we fought in the first place was because I wasn't born female! You know that!"

"But then you were altered to be Fighters," Amy pointed out, still lying on the floor where Walker's sudden outburst had left her. "And it's hasn't left you yet, that's all."

"Bullshit," spat Walker. "Haven't you heard the Federation for Human Purity? 'Once a freak, always a freak.' There's no use in trying to hide it. I'm a bloodthirsty monster and no amount of civilization will ever change that."

"Since when did you ever take anything they ever said seriously?!" Amy shouted, getting to her feet.

"Since it became obvious that they're right!" Walker shouted back. From below them, a groggy downstairs neighbour began pounding on his ceiling with a handy broomstick.

Amy darted to him and clung to his waist. "Please, Walker, don't say things like this."

"If it wasn't for me, none of this shit would be going on."

"Walker…" Amy trailed off as her boyfriend firmly unwound her arms from around him and stepped away.

"Forget it." The Lord of Alaryan's Keep grabbed his keys from the table by the door and shrugged on his jacket. "I'll see you later." And with that, he left, slamming the door behind himself.

Dejected, Amy began to pick up the mess of crushed wheat thins and spilled salsa. Through the open window she could hear the faint percussion of a car door slamming and the furious squeal of Walker's car screeching from the parking lot below. Eventually she sat down, slowly twisting her promise ring around and around her finger while salty tears ran unbidden down her face.

Dear God, why did you have to choose us?

*****

Tomorrow we leave for the tournament. The tournament is in a sports complex in Vancouver two days from now. Others have been invited to offset the strangeness of only ex-freaks attending. Those at the Keep will see it all live by dreamdrop. I can now do nothing but wait and hope and pray.

Black Hood has decided what it wants if we lose. The proclamation came via Walker's email this morning. If we win, then we get all of the hostages, no strings attached. If we lose, then Black Hood and my mother get back what they lost four years ago. If they win, then I will be their prize to be brought back to the Detroit base. I am not to be rescued, nor am I to be remembered. I will simply disappear from my family's life. Mother and Father don't know of it yet. I'll not say anything about it until just before the tournament. If it means that everyone could be brought back home, then it is a risk I am more than willing to take.

Walker, Darien, Ryu and I will fight. Mira and the four wizards will be there as representatives. We leave in three hours.

My friends, my love, will I ever see you again?

*****

*Sniffle* So sad….

Anyway, the next chapter may take a while to post, cuz it take place at the tournament and I'm not overly comfortable with fight scenes, so it'll take some time to flesh out. If you've got any ideas or advice, do drop me a line! I'm still at phoenixdagger@hotmail.com , minna-san!

Ja ne!

-LPD *//.^*