NEOODACHA
(Failure)




"The Spectre,
upon gazing,
towards his body,
learns the truth,
as hysteria,
in the form of a friend,
showers his former self.


"Oh Henry!
Can ghosts,
though dead,
feel stabbings of betrayal?"


The violent images of death loomed over Washu, the agony of what remained upon the face of Gregory Weshcye implanted into the photos.

"George Wesyche, murdered January 18, 1998. His murder is unsolved. The only piece of evidence is a paper with shreds of a poem by obscure writer Jocelyn Davis…."

Washu clicked another screen, and a list of names came up. Wesyche's name blinked.

"Of course…" She blinked. "Well, its obvious that there's only two people left……two people who could have committed this murder."

At this, a knock came on the door. Turning around, the scientist saw Ryoko, a frown on her face.

"Well! Happy sunshine, what can I do for you?"
"Absolutely nothing," Ryoko muttered. "I see you're having fun on your computer, as usual."
"Of course I am."
"Right." Ryoko mumbled. "Mars wants you to confirm the Grandmaster's real identity."
"As if it will give her closure for her friends on Mobius."
"Well," Ryoko shrugged. "Its something that's come out of the investigation."
"…..Good point."

Washu gave a chuckle as Ryoko closed the door.

"Now……..to get this all ready for the soldiers. They will be interested in knowing this….."

------------------------

SLAM!

Knuckles threw himself at the door. He gave a gasp as he fell to the ground, but was instantly up, though breathing heavily.

Must…..summon phima power….

Knuckles took several deep breaths, closed his eyes. He tried to concentrate. Back to the day he was filled with power…..he himself had power bred into his being……..feeling for the Silver Crystal, and then…..

Nothing.

Knuckles shook his head. It was useless. His phima form was somehow dead. And it didn't help that he truly needed those power now, in this weakened state. He knew what these people were capable of. Murder.

My father's murder…

Knuckles forced his self-imposed guilt back into his mind. Now wasn't the time for it. Now was the time to run, get out, back to Earth (somehow, he knew this wasn't Earth) and get help.

Before they killed Serenity.

"HALT!!"

The voice jerked Knuckles back into reality, and with a shout he smashes his foot into the guard's nose. He continued running, his mind trying to clear of the drugs.

Come on……pull yourself together…..you're the @#%$ Guardian Savior, stupid!! Don't let these insane insects get to you!!

More he ran, struggling to focus. He slammed into another door, taking a deep breath. He knew that his powers had to return from the drug-induced trip for him to do anything. He hoped against hope that it would happen soon.

----------------------------

Resin felt the ground shift in front of him, the ruins of the building in front of him.

From dust to dust….

The sky above Infinity Delta, unlike anywhere else in Crystal Tokyo, was stormy, dark, and foreboding. With a sigh, Resin began to walk. Walk…..to freedom?

No. I couldn't.

He had been with the woman for too long…..Death Natron.

Death Natron….with your promise of freedom, but it hallows out with me….

He was her top assassin. There were none who could match him. His past as a whole was vital to Natron's successes. If the Grandmaster happened to find her, she wouldn't have known what to do. It was he, Resin, a former servant of the Legion, who taught the serpent to thrive in the foggy forests.

He wondered what would happen after she was finished with her revenge. Continue her old work? Slaughter him, and all who were her army? Or keep them for another day, to slave with no choice.

I once had a choice…I…

He put it into the back of his head. It was so long ago; there would have been no one to back him up either way.

With another sigh, he began to walk back, to attempt the doing away of the pretty young angel when he heard a sound that made his blood chill.

"Daaaaddy!!!"

The voice resonated through his head, registering in his memory. But it seemed impossible. It was impossible.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaddy!!!"

The young echidna girl, her red dreadlocks and pink bangs flying in the breeze, looked lost, lonely and downright frightened.

"DAAAAAAAAAAADDY!!!"

Resin stared upon the young girl. Never, never had he imagined…..

The child truly looked familiar.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

The girl gave a whimper at that. His mission melting in the face of this strange quagmire, Resin slowly descended upon her, his arms reaching out towards her.

This girl….I must….

Before he understood why he was truly doing it, he felt himself wrap his hand over her mouth as he yanked her from the ruins, the ground once again shifting into the forest.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!"

The girl writhed in horror, but there was nothing she could do.

When Resin wanted something, he stopped at nothing to get it.

-------------------------------

Pluto's head sharply went up.

"So we just have to figure out…" Uranus looked at Pluto. "Setsuna?"
"….Trouble."

-------------------------------


Knuckles felt the pain shoot up his side.

What the…

Even in his state, he could feel a terrible boding danger. To his loved ones.

….Lara-Su?

His head jerked up. In front of him, on the balcony, was nothing more than foggy, wet forest. It spread as far as the eye could see. Fog, immense fog and smoke, covering the sky. Only in the far distance did he think he saw civilization, but the choking air made it deadly apparent that he might not make it to the city without recapturement.

Father……he stood there…

As he slowly edged away from the balcony, his safe haven for the moment, he remembered. His father had been there, warning him with his presence of the fake paradise, of his own peril.

That was no dream. He could feel his mind clear. He came to warm me. But of what did he come to warn me of…..

"The Spectre,
upon gazing,
towards his body,
learns the truth,
as hysteria,
in the form of a friend,
showers his former self."


Look upon the bodies
See that which they incur!
This is the fate of the Miracle Men
Their bodies to the vulture!"


Who….are the Miracle Men……..and what does my father……have to do with them?

He has to do with everything
to the Death Natron…


"Death Natron…"

A sound caused his eyes to widen. He threw his head around, but it was too little. Too late.

*TATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTATATTA
TATTATAtattatattaTATTATATTATATTATATTATATTA*


Knuckles took a long breath as he felt his body shiver violently. It was a convoluted breath, a struggle even to think of breathing, as he felt himself shut down in the face of the drops, the splatters of dark kraseatic bile which spouted from him like a flower field.

It spilled everywhere as he stumbled back, the blood.

"No…..no…power…."

He had not recovered enough to get any power to save him this time, and he knew it. Knuckles felt himself lose his body movements, but didn't feel himself stumble and slam into the balcony. The dark, foggy colors of the sky were drastically changed to the blurry, impending colors of green……more crashing sounds, the color brown under him even as his eyes rolled into the-


*CRACK*




….ground of his grave.

--------------------------

The Spectre could only hold his head into his hands as he watched it happen. More spewed from the phima-incarnate's body, and instantly and movement of life he might have had was stilled.

No……
…….His shell ran out…….
What?

From the forest, a tall, darkened figure suddenly stood next to the Spectre. The cold dark eyes flashed with a power that would make mortal men tremble if they saw it. This figure, unlike the Spectre, was not translucent; luck was on its side. When it spoke, it was as if the invader of Knuckles' mind had appeared in real life.

The battle with the Ophiron twenty years ago of our time drained the power of the Creed from his body. His spirit is starting to come towards you; it will materialize into a true specteral form soon.
We must restore it before it is too late for him to return to his body!
….There is only one way……

The shadow carefully floated towards the mangled body of the echidna, picking it up and examining it. It was riddled with bullets, and blood was still pouring everywhere. The eyes, rolled back into Knuckles' skull, were dull and black, and his mouth already stank of mold from the drugs the enemy had injected into him.

Come, Locke.
Giving a glance towards the east, the shadow floated back towards the Spectre. Our work is only beginning.

In a flicker of the moment, where the two had stood, the dead body of a fallen Guardian in their care, there was nothing.