"Look at his arm Jet. The one I bit off." Lucied stated. Jet did as he said.
"What, the Hell?" Jet looked as no blood came. The blood that fell on him as well as the floor had evaporated. "How?"
"This Jet, really is more of a clone than you are Jet." Lucied gave. "Tell them, 'Final Project'."
'Messiah' Jet grinned as a cackle came. "Heh. He's right. I am only a virus. Not even a real living being."
Jet stood standing adjacent from the other Jet. "A virus?"
"Yes, this was all being worked many years ago, Jet. Three years I think."
"Three years ago?"
"The three prophets felt that, if they should fail, they would need something to avenge them. That was me. For three years I have lived here under the ruins, asleep. Waiting, for you Jet. The moment you were within range a machine was set to wake me, and take the unique powers you had, and use them to amplify my own. With your power and my own, I can make water, and make life, but, more importantly," The floor to the side of him opened with a burst as a machine rose from the ground. A long panel of sorts. "This machine, will be used with me, to kill Filgaia so no one can have it!" With that he made a move for the machine.
"No!" Jet threw his beaten body in front of it. "You won't use this."
"But I did, with a thought." The machine whirs.
"Clive!" Lucied roared as he landed on the floor. "Help me remove everyone except those two."
"What about Jet?"
"He, can handle this. He was able to call on me with the power of his desire to live."
Jet overheard that as he was thrown to the ground by the other Jet. "Heh. Is that right?" He stand. "I may not be able to stop the machine, but I can stop you."
The ruins shook. "If the world ends, I could see no other way." 'Messiah' Jet returned. His one arm forming a fist.
"But, what do the guardians say?" Jet wonders.
"They say die! Cremate!" Nothing happened for the other Jet.
"Do, you really think they would help you? Those mediums are wasted on you. Because, if you have enough ambition, you don't need the mediums. Is that, not right?" Jet grinned. A white light forming in his hand. A sword, crafted by the guardians placed in it now. "They listen to me, because I want what they do even more than them."
"Still, what good will killing me do? You won't have Filgaia back."
"No, I can. You gave me my answer." With that Jet sends the blade flying into 'messiah' Jet's chest. Blood flying everywhere. And Jet, he shoved his face forward into the wound. Drinking as much as he could.
"Bastard!" With that 'messiah' Jet threw Jet across the room before falling to the floor due to his injury.
"Am I?" Jet stood gray hair moving about as he does. With renewed confidence he moved for the machine.
"No!" With that Jet fell to the ground. Not by the words, but the three shots fired from his own ARM that 'messiah' Jet still possessed. "Do, you…really think it was so easy?" With that 'messiah' Jet fell to the floor. His body deflating almost as he died. Withering away.
Jet remained on the floor as his life fluids flowed through the bullet wounds. His eyes glazed over. The ruins shaking violently. The world only starting to fall to it's death. There was still time to save Filgaia. "No, I didn't think it was so easy." Jet stood with great effort. Falling onto the machine console. "He…used…a thought?" Jet leaned on the console trying his best to concentrate. Nothing. "Okay, screw this." Jet fell onto the floor, crawling for his now dead counterpart. "Let's do this the way I always do." With that he aimed his ARM for the machine and fired off blinding with many shots until he was out of rounds. "How do you like that?" He shouted. Collapsing onto the floor beside the robe his counterpart had worn.
The machine, smoked, and burnt out. The ruins stopped their shaking. Nothing. There was nothing after except a quiet. The prophets postmortem revenge stopped where it was. Jet was back to normal, except, that he was not breathing. That would make the day a lot better for him had he been alive.