Zack Fenix

Contact: zackfenix@hotmail.com

Began: 10/5/02

Finished: 10/6/02

Revised: 10/21/03

Prologue - The Dreamer

Snow, a fragile substance easily disturbed by its surroundings. Just like some human beings, it can be extremely agitated under certain circumstances. And for one cold young woman she is beginning to experience just that.

Around her on the snowfield there was chaos. Weapons, armor, and bodies littered the ground, a site of a battlefield. She thought she could handle the stress that comes from war, but things like that are never easy to accept. Sounds of death lingered in the air. The ground, scarred red by blood, was too much to just ignore. She just stood there, horrified, alone, and ready to just break down. But sadly such hesitation would kill inexperienced soldiers, like her.

From within the cries of the battle two soldiers of the enemy came to her vicinity. These warmongers were thirsty for blood to spill. The larger of the two soon fixed his eyes on her and found pleasure in his work once again. "A ha! Here's another lamb for the slaughter my friend," he said while unsheathing his weapon for another killing spree.

However, his comrade was feeling lucky today and pushed him aside. "No, this little one is mine." The smaller warrior circled the young woman who appeared mostly calm as he paced. "Besides, another kill would be good boasting for the feast tonight."

She held her sword close, ready for an attack. Although confident about her abilities in swordplay, one uncertainty always lingered: did she really have the heart to slain another?

In a berserker rush he dashed towards her, swinging his broadsword down on the woman, but was deflected. Their swords clashed in the air with both struggling for survival. Each strike drove her from side to side barely recovering from the iron's sting. She was playing with fire, but pushed on with courage.

Her opponent was cocky thinking of his greater height and size as an advantage. He was determined to kill her at all cost. Sacrifice a leg, a hand, an eye; the glory of death was all that mattered. But his ignorance rewarded him with nothing. As he hurled his broadsword in a long, horizontal swing he left his body open. Quickly, she lunged with the sword's tip forward. It found its target and went through his side and out his back. Death immediately consumed him as he fell to the ground.

The remaining soldier was shocked from her victory. To believe that a woman could best a soldier in battle, it was unthinkable in his mind. Furthermore, she killed his friend without breaking to tears. The very thought of this humiliation made his blood boil. "You…" There was nothing to stop him from doing what he wanted before, "…you BITCH!!!"

With a roaring cry, he too began combat with the woman. Although less experienced than his comrade he was good at playing dirty. Expectedly, she deflected his first swing, but he quickly threw a handful of snow with his free hand. Caught off guard the woman had to back away as her opponent waved his sword randomly towards her in a murderous rage. The swordswoman was filled with adrenaline after shedding blood. And soon she would be her next victim to fall.

But like his fallen comrade he underestimated his opponent and her skill. She continued to back away from his blade not using her sword for the longest time. She repeatedly found openings in his style of fighting but did not want to risk her life on the chance. However, her continued evasion only made the soldier frustrated. It came to an end when, screaming with all his breath, he pulled his sword over and behind his head ready to bring it down on her little skull. Now she had no choice, as soon as she found an opening she closed her eyes as she slashed upwards from the ground all the way towards his body.

It was over in an instant. When she followed through she felt no pain or injury from her side. At this point it took a leap of faith for her to dare open her eyes to see the damage. To her surprise she remained unscathed, but her opponent was frozen in mid stance. Her attack succeeded in making a large, deep cut across the face of her opponent. The gash ran from the side of his mouth up diagonally to above his right eye, it was deep enough to kill him instantly. As his body fell to the ground she gave a sigh of relief, another obstacle passed that she could not achieve before. Here she had no restrictions to stop her from achieving the impossible. That was one of the reasons why she was here challenging herself on things few could do. She could always find a sense of uncertainty and suspense out here which was scarce where she came from. Fear often played into this, but that was usual for something different from her routine. If she wanted to she could take on the world. However that sense of uncertainty was taking a drastic turn for the worse.

From atop a large rock in the battlefield the enemy Chieftain rallied his remaining followers to push on to victory. He waved a ceremonial staff above his head as he called, "Come my brothers, more battle awaits! Cast fear aside and raise your spirits high towards VALLHALA!!!" The enemy came from all sides forming mob right in front of her. They were armed to the teeth with every weapon imaginable; spears, axes, swords, maces. She could hear the Chieftain exalt tales of the gods above and the spoils of absolute victory, raising their morale for one last push. The warriors listened to him go on quietly until he stopped and suddenly pointed his staff at the enemy, her.

"ATTACK!" cried the Chieftain sending the wave of followers towards her. The woman's courage sank knowing this was too much for her alone. Against so many it was death for sure. But for every person who's ever lived a soldier's life 'this was their path; we all had to die someday. What really mattered was how they lived their life until the end. The choice was either running away from faith or accepting the truth. And it was that reasoning that made her stand firm to fight to the death.

At the last moment a spear flew through the sky and hit the ground between the mob and the woman. Her enemies stopped as they saw a figure appear behind her. A man dressed in light armor and fur from head to toe joined her. Only a small part of his eyes and nose could be seen. His battle ware prominently colored him in black, brown and mostly dark green. His arms included a broadsword, held steadily by both hands, and a buckler strapped to his left arm. His enemies did not intimidate him and did not let them break his focused self.

He slowly walked right beside the woman ready to join the battle. "You okay Krys?" he asked in a calm voice.

"Yes, but I don't need your help now. If I'm going to die then just let it happen," she grasped the grip of her sword tighter than before. To herself she was half lying; although she was being realistic, with him around at least her last moments could be more exciting.

The young man ignored her brooding and tried straightening his gear. "Fighting alone is... pointless... don't you think? Besides, there's no one here to boast of your heroic death in the Hall of Herot," he asked playfully as if he already knew her answer.

"Well you're always welcome to join in if you want," she replied in a sarcastic, yet teasing manner. However, he did not need her invitation as he raised his sword in a battle position. Krystal did the same, being a little more confident with him on her side. "Thanks Zack," she said as a smile formed on her face.

As they conversed their mob in front of them had already recovered from Zack's appearance. Many of those in the front lines readily continued their charge. As for Krystal and Zack the time was right to test faith. They shouted their own battle cry and met the enemy head on, "For Hrothgar, King of the Danes!!!"

Their enemies surrounded them trying to claw away at their flesh. From Krystal's view, the carnage was horrible as her blade whisked in the air of attackers, occasionally bringing one or two down as it went on. This was so different from battling one on one. It was utter chaos.

Although Krystal's rampaging emotions could not be subdued, Zack remained steadfast. He willingly put himself in harm's way, pushing the group around him back little by little. Their attempts to subdue him failed as he just kept coming eating away their overall strength. One unfortunate soul thrust his spear at one of Zack's legs but easily parried it to the side. Before dying he saw Zack's sword coming for his throat cutting off his head. He showed little emotion, even when the enemy scored minor scratches. He was ferocious in the scene of battle, yet somehow controlled as the battle raged.

Soon the enemy's spirit broke and whoever remained fled in terror. When the chaos settled, Krystal saw the damage she and Zack had done. So many lay dead that it felt impossible for only two people to take out. The body of the Chieftain, who may have abandoned his warriors, could not be found. Of course, she couldn't take most of the credit. Zack ultimately made more kills than she had, but at a price.

She turned to find Zack standing among the dead a few meters away. "Zack!" she cried out to get his attention. He turned around revealing his body tattered with wounds around his arms legs. Are you all right?" she asked trying to keep her bearings after the fight.

"Never… better," he utters weakly. Although trying to ignore the pain he was exhausted and about to give in. Before he knew it he dropped his sword to the ground and began to collapse.

Before he collapsed Krystal runs towards him and ties to catch him. She stretches her arms around him and hugs tightly while they slowly sink to the ground. The cold begins to take its toll on her as she shivers.

Krystal, now dead tired to find warmth from their current position, but was more concerned on her friend. They have been doing this for so long, yet neither of them had changed since the first time. "You took too many chances today, Zack."

Zack, on the other hand tried to laugh off all the pain, as if it meant nothing at all. "Sorry... I guess I'll never learn. I'm a bad boy."

They both start chuckling at their hopeless situation. It was true for both of them; they had been doing this for too long. In the heat of the action Krystal and Zack always felt somewhat concerned for their safety. But in the end it was the same; energy spent and finding light-hearted conversation within the chaos. And they stayed like that for a few minutes until reality set in once again.

Suddenly their surroundings fade to black. The entire environment they were in disappears: the snowfield, the bodies, and their weapons, even the cold. Then with a brilliant flash of light they find themselves in a room with electronic devices hooked up everywhere.

Krystal and Zack open their eyes to see themselves in home again. Their clothing, once armor and rags, changed to normal civilian clothes. The wounds of the battle disappeared but the physical pain still remained in their minds. Also, the helmet Zack once wore is no longer there, revealing a young man with black hair and brown eyes. He wore black pants and shoes, a white undershirt and a long sleeve, light brown leather jacket, one of medium build. His partner, Krystal, had tan jeans, running shoes, and a blue long sleeve shirt on. Her long hair was gold toned, with a small build and green eyes. Although they were normal again, at least it was no longer cold.

As the simulation shut down, nearby attendants arrive to help them up. "Zackary Tarsun, Miss Almoral, good job guys," one of them remarked. "We didn't think you would survive at that difficulty."

They both struggle to stand as clean up crews start begin their overhaul of the test area. Krystal Almoral goes right towards the head attendant calmly complaining of the situation they were in. "What were you thinking getting us in that mess? We almost died with the odds we had." She began rubbing her right shoulder, now aching from her swordplay. "You could've at least told us, right Zack?"

Zack was in no mood to talk right now as the pain from the simulation lingered. Silently he changed his gear and walked out of the room for fresh air. He did not look back to see Krystal watch him leave concerned.

"Zack?" she quietly asked herself as the door closed behind him. In all the time she had known him, he never acted like this. He was always a mystery to her, which was probably why she liked hanging around him. But from time to time what she found only brought more questions to the surface. As always, all the answers are never revealed, but she guessed when the time's right, or when she catches him off guard, he might spill everything. But waiting till then continued to drive her crazy.

After filling out the final paperwork Krystal left the simulator room ending another day at work. Outside, the sun shined over the city as she wiped sweat from her face and hair with a towel. After being a tester as long as she has, there has never been a dull moment. The challenge is usually a bit too much, mostly unforgiving, but in this day and age it was the perfect escape from her reality. It was for her, and many others in the trade, just another day for a VR tester.

***

Author's notes: The Hall of Herot was an equivalent to a castle court for the Norse culture. It is a setting point for the stories of "Beowulf" and "Grendel." King Hrothgar was the king of the Herot kingdom and had acquired great power, wealth, and fame years before both stories take place. Kings had feasts every so often, telling stories and boasting about their deeds in battle. For more info or a good read try to get a copy of both of these books, Grendel especially.

Well, after a year of writer's block I finally decided to go back to this lost relic of mine. Sorry to those very few that actually liked this fan fiction, I'll try to get more done in the coming months. And I'm surprised to say that this revision is the first time I tried getting away from the script format a year ago. I guess that downtime was really worth it and pray that I can do it for the rest of the story soon.