Negative Genesis

by JockoMegane

A long tale of dark Tsunamism.

2. Ball of Confusion

"In the long run we are all dead." - John Maynard Keynes

"You let me violate you. You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you. You let me complicate you
Help me i broke apart my insides. Help me i've got no soul to sell
Help me the only thing that works for me. Help me get away from myself

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god

You can have my isolation. You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith. You can have my everything
Help me you tear down my reason. Help me it's your sex i can smell
Help me you make me perfect. Help me become somebody else

I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god

Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach. Scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay alive"

- "Closer" Nine Inch Nails

Tenchi Muyo - Negative Genesis
Part 1, Chapter 2. "Ball of Confusion."

By JockoMegane.

This story is inspired by "The Stand" by Stephen King, and "Dawn of the Dead" written/directed by George A. Romero. More and more inspiration from "The Lord of the Rings" by JRR Tolkien is also starting to creep into my mind while writing this. Not too mention many other sources which have slowly colonized my mind over the years.

Send all comments and criticisms to:

SYNOPSIS: A long tale of Dark Tsunamism.

DISCLAIMER: Tenchi and his gang of vigilante crime fighters along with various Pretty Sammy bingo league members are the property of Pioneer LDC, AIC, and Hiroki Hayashi, er...did I say Hayashi? I meant Masaki Kajishima, of course! "The Stand" is the property of Stephen King, and "Dawn of the Dead" is (should) be the property of George A. Romero. I'm not making any money from this venture, neither should anyone else. All the works which I make reference to herein are done in the greatest of humility and admiration. Please don't sue me.

MISSION STATEMENT: This story is intended as coming from the balls.

NOTE: The continuity in this story is OVA 2 plus Kiyone. For this tale, GXP and Kajishima's OVA 3 don't exist.

Very special thanks to KaiKerrigan, EvilPii, jaug, Negative-Z, Lostowl, and Carnage Black for the reliable sounding boards, suggestions, support and beta reads while this work was being undertaken.

Edited by Carnage Black, Zyraen, and EvilPii.

For kyokki.

Before we begin...in chapter 1 oh so long ago, I stated that Negative Genesis would have three parts, with three chapters each, for a grand total of nine chapters. This, over the past year, has shown me how deluded I was at the beginning. Simply, as Tolkien said of "The Lord of the Rings," this is a tale that is growing in its telling. I will try to make it all worthwhile. Please bear with me.

All song lyrics in all of my fics are stolen from archived usenet postings, my thanks to all who assisted in Google and Usenet's existence. The title of this chapter is from a Love and Rocket's song...titled, well, "Ball of Confusion."

000

Some campus group, probably either the Students for Jurain Annexation, or the Gamarian Independence Party, had been busy in the composition lab during the night of October 16-17 (Earth time, of course). In the morning, these posters were plastered all over the University of Gamaria at Tlei City campus:

PEOPLE OF GAMARIA! YOU ARE BEING LIED TO!
THE GALACTIC UNION'S CONSTITUTION IS A SHAM!
THE ADMINISTRATION OF THIS UNIVERSITY, IN COOPERATION WITH THE FASCIST GALAXY POLICE, HAS BEEN DECEIVING US! DO NOT BELIEVE THEM!

FACTS:

1) THE WALKING SICKNESS IS NOT CANTAGIOUS BY RESPIRATION! IT IS TRANSFERED BY BITING!

2) THE WALKING SICKNESS IS NOT BEING ERADICATED ON THIS PLANET BECAUSE OF DEFENSE CONTRACTORS IN THE GALAXY POLICE ORGANIZATION DESIRING A NEW WEAPON!

3) THE VACCINES BEING HANDED OUT BY INFIRMARY DOCTORS DO NOTHING TO PROTECT YOU AGAINST THE WALKING SICKNESS!

4) THE WALKING SICKNESS IS, IN FACT, NOT AN ISOLATED EVENT ON GAMARIA, IT HAS BEEN REPORTED BY OUR REVOLUTIONARY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ON MANY WORLDS DOMINATED BY THE FASCIST PARAMILITARY GALAXY POLICE!

5) THE LAWFUL GOVERNMENT OF GAMARIA, IN THE PERSON OF GOVERNOR MELKOR SUTY AND HIS CABINENT HAS IN FACT BEEN PLACED UNDER ARREST BY THE FORCES OF THE PLANETARY AND SECTOR GALAXY POLICE.

ALL PEOPLES OF GAMARIA UNITE! MEET AT ADONIS PARK AT 16:00 HOURS! THE TIME FOR ACTION IS NOW!

000

Detective first class Kiyone Makibi and her partner, Mihoshi Kuramitsu, were in orbit around the Earth, trying to get in communication with GP HQ. So far, no success. "Kiyone...?" Mihoshi asked as she glanced warily back and forth from her console and the Earth floating by serenely outside her view port.

"Hmm?" Kiyone grunted as she cycled through another band of subspace radio bands.

"How many..." the blonde hesitated, looking down at the blue planet, "do you think are dead, Kiyone?" Mihoshi gulped, then forced herself not to cry again: "How many do you think are walking around down there?"

"I'm trying not to, Mihoshi. Keep checking those emergency bands," Kiyone spared a half-second to look at her partner with concern before returning to the rapidly blinking frequency display.

Mihoshi nodded, duty calling once more. After about five minutes, the blonde-haired woman found something.

"Put it on the speaker," Kiyone ordered. The sounds that greeted both GPs chilled them to their very souls.

On the Galactic Union planet, Carpelton, the Yagami was eavesdropping on the emergency band only used when things were bad, very bad. From what Kiyone and Mihoshi heard, things were already at very bad and rapidly getting worse.

"TE-459, this Commander Narsay; report."

"Commander, this is TE-459 at the planetary militia base in the capital city. It appears they are mobilizing. I believe their objective is to secure the government buildings."

"TE-459..." Narsay could be heard gathering his thoughts together. "No... No, that is not in the Galactic Union's interest, is it?

The officer at the other end hesitated, "N-No, Commander. This is not."

Narsay had no such problems with hesitation. "Understand this very carefully, officer. Code Green-44."

"... Understood, TE-459 out."

"May the hand of God be with you," the sound of resigned death in Narsay's voice almost seems to cause the temperature in Yagami's cockpit to drop a degree or two.

Kiyone blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing over the cosmos. "... Kiyone?" Mihoshi asked hesitantly, "isn't Code Green-44..."

"Yes, Mihoshi," Kiyone said, finding her mouth very dry, "subdue at all costs."

"But, why would they need to subdue the planetary militia?" Mihoshi seemed about to cry.

Kiyone's eye twitched. She toggled the send switch on the comm. "Commander Narsay, this is Detective Kiyone Makibi on the patrol ship Yagami, AE-5896, we are listening in to your exchange. Please explain yourself."

For about a full minute there was nothing but subspace static. Then, "Patrol ship Yagami, we are in the process of containing a situation. With all due respect, fuck you and get off this channel before I have your ass hauled in front of an inquiry."

Kiyone sneered, "same to you, Commander. I repeat, explain yourself."

Later, Kiyone said that she could almost hear the vein in Narsay's forehead become visible. "Yagami, this planet is going red faster than tree decorations a day before Startica on Jurai, we have quarantined the capital city to prevent anyone from leaving and infecting surrounding areas and planets. If the planetary governor and militia want to cooperate, that is fine. However, over the past few minutes, it looks they are not cooperating, and that is not fine. Understood, detective?"

Kiyone was about to reply when another channel noticed Narsay's end. "Commander, ah, this is ARVN-1795 at the planetary assembly building. It looks like the militia detachment is challenging the blockade."

Both Kiyone and Mihoshi traded horrified looks as the exchange went on light-years away.

Narsay allowed a few seconds before he responded. "Have you implemented the warning portions of Code Green-44, officer?"

"Yes," the officer's voice seemed to shake a bit over the static.

"Very well then, ARVN," Narsay seemed distant, "go on to portion cue, as in cue ball, of the same code, understood?"

"..."

"ARVN, is that understood!" Narsay only raised his voice just a pinch.

"Yes..." the officer said feverishly. "Yes, Commander," sounding stronger now. "ARVN out."

"Good luck, officer," Narsay said with some amount of reverence.

Kiyone toggled the send switch, "Narsay! You can't just open fire on the legal defense force of a member planet!" she blared, completely losing her composure. "If you do not desist I will, with the four Gods as my witness, make it my life's work to see that you spend the rest of your life in prison; or worse!"

Mihoshi watched in stunned silence, sure that her partner in life was about to cry. She did, but not so much that she still could not scream back into the comm.

"Narsay!" Kiyone screamed.

The only sounds over Narsay's connection that greeted them was the rattling explosions of a battle being fought on what sounded like an old mono-speaker television. Clearly heard by Mihoshi and Kiyone were sonic motor rounds exploding and blaster rifle fire being exchanged, and screaming, muffled and not-so-muffled . There were cracking sounds too. Too soft to be clearly discerned at first, but after a few seconds, it was that clear, sickening, wet snapping of someone close to the comm link getting their skull knocked in. It just went on and on.

All Mihoshi could think about was the opening scene on one of Nobuyuki's Laserdiscs, called "Wargames". "'Turn your key, sir,'" Mihoshi quoted aimlessly.

They listened for perhaps ten seconds before Kiyone cut the connection. It took another thirty seconds for her to pull herself together. "All right, Mihoshi," Kiyone kept her voice level, "I think we should forget about help from HQ in this."

Mihoshi gently laid her hand on Kiyone's. "Yes, Kiyone."

Kiyone let one last teardrop roll down her cheek before she hastily put on a smile. "Hey... we always do our best when we're on our own, don't we?"

Mihoshi smiled brightly, the kind of smile Kiyone always liked. "Yeah, we sure do, Kiyone," she squeezed the teal-haired woman's hand.

The blue Earth continued its slow spin below them. In orbital mode, the Yagami's systems were typically on standby with nary a sound. For the moment, the entire universe around the two GPs was as silent as a grave.

000

Dreams for Warren Hudson were typically the only thing he could look forward to at the end of his hard days. Since leaving Okayama in 1952 and becoming a wanderer, his days were filled with traveling, odd jobs, training, book reading, and more training. Before leaving Okayama, his life was training, cleaning, and serving his Prince Yosho. Before that, with Tsunami, his life was regeneration of the body, spirit, and mind. Before Tsunami, he was an American Prisoner of War in one of the only prison camps on the Japanese mainland. His days were nightmares. Before that, Warren Hudson was a private in the United States Marine Corps. Moreover, even before that, he was a Nebraska farm boy, working for his abusive Uncle.

However, in dreams... In dreams, Warren was able to leave his dreary life behind and steel himself for the next day's trials. His dreams, precious coping mechanism they were, first became more than nightly escapes when Tsunami healed his soul.

000

August 12th, 1945. Early morning.

There was not much left after his nearly three years in a Japanese POW camp, there was even less left after the forced march across the rural backwoods of the Okayama region. Then, there was really nothing left of the pre-Tsunami Warren Hudson after the Japanese soldiers tried to execute him, only succeeded in blowing a good chunk out of his skull and a good portion of his brain. Warren had laid there, seemingly dead in the rainy night, but only in shock. He regained some sense of place and... realized the soldiers were gone... His eyes opened wide and Warren faced the lighting-illuminated sky, when he noticed an imperfection of light coming from someplace close by. Later, he would amend that statement by saying that the imperfection of light was no imperfection at all. No, not at all...

'That's some really fuckin' colorful lightin',' was his first somewhat coherent thought after being shot.

Somehow, he had managed to get to his feet, and in the rain and mud, he sought that light through the forest. Warren fell and involuntarily lock his legs countless times, but even if he had to claw his way closer with his very teeth, he was going to get to that heavenly light. This light shone not of blinding white, like the preachers that Warren never believed said, but of color.

'All the colors of the rainbow...' The thought consumed his mind. Somehow, a rainbow never seemed so beautiful to Warren Hudson as it did in that moment when he dragged himself through the grounds of the Masaki Shrine towards the source of the light; a tree with various Shinto prayers tied to it's branches. Warren recognized the things surrounding the tree; spirit wards they were called. He was able to get on the path, but the stepping-stones across the water presented a problem. Warren's knees continually locked, or his right or left leg lost feeling, skewing his course. At this point, however, he did not care and was greatly content to be moving in the general direction of the tree. Warren thrashed steadily through the shallow pond around the tree, intent on the inviting system of overgrown roots under the ancient trunk.

He was under the source of the heavenly light now and found that his body would not move one more inch forward, his life's strength finally giving out. Warren Hudson heaved himself up onto the inviting gnarly roots at the base of the tree. He was face up to the branches as the rain splattered on his face, mixing with blood and tears. The storm was starting to dissipate then, the stars and moon above seemed to be peering down at him through the wide branches above. For years before, Warren had felt that the even the stars were indifferent, if beautiful, to him, but now all he could think of was how inviting they seemed to him now.

Warren laughed as he cried, his life ebbing away like the rain cleaning his face. It was odd. For the first time in his life, he felt truly at peace with himself and all around him. Here, at the end of his life's journey, he felt bizarrely triumphant, almost giddy as things faded away.

There was no dream for him then. For a long time there was only blackness for him.

000

Kiyone and Mihoshi walked back in the Masaki family front door, still dressed in their uniforms, eyes facing the fine polished floors once so admired and maintained by Achika Masaki. Nobuyuki and Tenchi met them there.

"Anything?" Tenchi asked.

Kiyone shook her head in the negative, she clenched her fists. "N-Nothing," the word seemed dead the moment it dropped from her mouth.

Tenchi shook his head in disbelief. He glanced to his father, who was not looking at him.

Nobuyuki walked over to Kiyone and simply hugged her as the teal haired GP slowly crumpled to the floor, sitting on the front step. The architect sat down beside Kiyone, Mihoshi joining him. Both she and Nobuyuki held Kiyone as a look of ashen grief and panic-driven concentration took over the teal haired detective's countenance. It was a look of someone who was fighting against everything being taken away from them, the look also of inevitability. Tenchi knew this look well. He hated it.

Tenchi sighed, looking away. He decided that he should leave the three of them alone and check on the others camped out in the living room and kitchen. Tenchi slowly walked away from the trio. When he arrived in the living room, he just stood for a minute, gazing at the sliding-glass door in front of him and the lake beyond it. A low rumble of thunder could be heard, rattling the glass. A white flash of distant lightning illuminated the lake and pier. The water beginning to ripple and chop in the wind.

"Hey, you okay Tenchi?" Ryoko was sitting on the beam above, calling down to him quietly.

Tenchi snapped out of it. "No." He shook his head and spoke softly, "I'm not okay, not at all, Ryoko."

Ryoko frowned as she phased down to gently set her hands on Tenchi's shoulder. "Don't worry," she smiled confidently. "We'll handle it, you and me together," she winked, her amber eyes twinkling.

Tenchi smiled a bit, "Yeah, we will." He never stopped to think about the implication of his response to Ryoko's "you and me together" line.

From the kitchen, both of them could hear Yosho, Ayeka, and Sasami listening to a message from Queen Misaki, stating that things were under control on Jurai and the Kingdom at large. Ryoko, for her part, had shifted from having her hands on his shoulders to gently resting her entire body on his. Strangely, while Tenchi realized she did this, he did not think to try and squirm away or of the consequences of Ayeka seeing this. He merely accepted her need for his strength and touch at this moment.

By this time, Mihoshi and Nobuyuki had successfully escorted Kiyone up the stairs to lie down for a while.

"Ryoko..." Tenchi said after a moment, "we should work out who will take watch shifts."

"Hmmhmm," she nodded, taking a step back from him just in time to see Ayeka walk out into the living room. The elder princess frowned briefly. She had not seen anything incriminating, but she sensed that something had passed between Tenchi and Ryoko. Mentally, she filed it away into the back of her mind for later. Now was not the time for such considerations.

"Ms. Ayeka," Tenchi said, "we need to work out watch shifts. I think it would be a good idea if at least two of us are awake at the same time to keep an eye on developments." He motioned to the TV where two American reporters were shouting at each other violently, "... if any, and to keep an eye on things." He guessed Ayeka's unspoken response, "Yes, I have faith in Azaka and Kamidake, but I don't think we should rely solely on them."

"What about Washu?" Ryoko asked.

Tenchi looked up at the ceiling for a moment, "Washu is devoting all of her energies to finding out what is happening."

Ryoko nodded, thinking for a moment. "I'll take watch for tonight."

"I will take tomorrow," Ayeka stated.

"And, I'll have the night after that," Tenchi said, "but who will take days?"

"Simple." Ryoko crossed her arms behind her head, "we alternate with whoever did nights the day before."

Tenchi shrugged. It seemed as good a plan as any. "I've already talked to Grandpa, and he says he'll stay up nights and sleep in the day."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sasami was silently and half-heartedly preparing a late midnight snack for whoever wanted it. Ryo-ohki was not on her usual perch on top of Sasami's head. The cabbit was upstairs, sleeping her recent bout of nausea off on Sasami's futon.

Yosho and Washu were now for the fortieth time trying to make sense of what they could glean from reports from various places around the world and in the universe around them. Colorful holographic screens lit up like a game board before Washu and Yosho. So far, the clearest picture they could get was a video that was played once and only once on an Orlando, Florida TV station before going off the air. The video was blurred, shot at night during a rainstorm, but it clearly showed injured corpses walking toward the camera with the sort of difficulty you would expect to find in, say, someone trying to walk after breaking a leg. Various GHK wire-service text reports were also on some of the screens. Disorder and deceit was in the Galaxy Police and the rest of the Galactic Union dealing with it or not dealing with it as they saw fit.

"Yosho..." Washu ventured, "does King Azusa intend to intervene if civil authorities are unable to contain this threat, which seems pretty credible from where I'm sitting?"

Yosho glanced again at one of Washu's six different holographic screens floating at various points around the kitchen, this one replaying a message from his aunt, Misaki. "I believe my father will, Little Washu. How soon and to what extent, I do not know. However, it is very clear Jurai has its own problems to take care of right now."

The message from Queen Misaki also included a holographic record of a planet called Alonia. It seemed that a few cities and even a smaller continent's communications were dead for the moment. There was also some garbled footage of shuffling humanoid figures, just like those pictures from the Orlando TV station. Yosho glanced back from Washu to the hologram, and to Sasami; who glanced back at him from the corner of her eye. Yosho absently swatted his hand through the holographic image, dissolving it. Sasami went back to making the cheese club sandwiches.

"So..." Washu sighed, catching Yosho's attention again. "With Jurai occupied and the GP currently forming a circular firing squad, we're effectively on our own for now. Is that what you are saying?"

Yosho adjusted his glasses, "Yes" He would say no more on the matter, except: "But, we will have help." He smiled a little enigmatic smile familiar to his lips.

Washu sighed again, in no mood for the elder Prince's games, but no time to spare either. She went back to furiously testing and tapping away again; at what little precious data she had on this new...horror.

'Yes,' she mentally agreed. 'It is a horror.'

Little did she know how soon she would be proven right.

000

Ezekiel Hayes was pleased with the extent to which the Galactic Union was having all its weak links blown like cheap firecrackers. By his and Tokimi's predictions, the Galactic Union and Galaxy Police should be on life-support within a week; dead in two. Jurai, however.. according to their plan, will be a much tougher nut to crack. Jurai had responded well to the initial threat, but even a coordinated effort hitting all the right notes and methods cannot hold out for long against the "biological weapon," some would later term it. No matter, Ezekiel was now making plans to visit many different worlds in the near future, including Earth and Jurai. The casting call was going out, and all those who swore allegiance to Lady Tokimi would be lining up all around the figurative block, so to speak.

Ezekiel sneered as he watched floating above some outer-rim Galactic Union world, a world following the standard pattern of the rural areas producing more zombies and then a slow shift to the cities. The cities would then become tiny specks and blotches of red... literally zombie breeding factories with numbers of people trapped in a relatively small area. 'They're learning true fear right at this instant,' he thought. 'They will learn who truly controls their destinies, and whom they should ask forgiveness from,' he smiled down past his boots at the populated southern continent; with a population demographic of 51 zombie.

"A little of that Old-Tyme Religion ain't gonna do much good for you now..." he hissed, and then laughed, the cosmic joke in action. He was about to go down and witness the "persuasion," as he and the Lady called it, first hand when he felt Tokimi initiate contact with him.

Gone was the planet below him and the stars around him, replaced with a void of pitch-blackness. Ezekiel waited, knowing his Lady would be with him soon.

"Ezekiel..." a voice like a cold blast lapped itself around Ezekiel's body in this realm.

He turned around and found himself standing on a perfect grey marble platform. Around him various columns rose, and on either side of him were two canals of water flowing off behind him into two identical waterfalls. Ahead of Ezekiel was his destination. The temple of his Lady Goddess. He fished out a half-empty pack of Marlboros regulars, tapping the back of the pack until he held a fresh cigarette in his fingers. He lit the cigarette, taking a long drag, and exhaled the smoke into the air above him. The stars of Tokimi's universe twinkled in perfect harmony, complimenting the Dark Lady's temple. Ezekiel's eyes returned to the way ahead. The water pointed the way, as did the odd piece of vegetation or a seemingly random mathematically perfect square moving in the starry night above. Roots and other things meant to only be in an atmosphere coexisted equally as well as dead rocks all because Tokimi wished it so. This was the Lady's realm, a perfect mismatch hodgepodge of everything to catch Tokimi's fancy. Along with some original ideas and concepts, the majority of things Ezekiel strode past on his way to his Lady's chambers were pilfered, copied, or otherwise cribbed from the selected "worthy" elements of Tsunami's universe.

The architecture reminded Ezekiel vaguely of Greco-Roman styles, but that really meant about as much as a warm pitcher of spit to someone who had been born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Ezekiel was more interested in the various murals, paintings, and bricks on the road ahead, all with stories to tell attesting to his wife's greatness.

There was the praying mantis, an insect that caused Ezekiel some pause before he dismissed it as you would dismiss a mother animal allowing the runt of her litter to be killed rather than allow weakness to survive into the next generation. Tokimi kept a rather large colony here in her universe sealed in a private ecosystem of their own. Ezekiel strode past the quarter kilometre transparent barrier separating the main walkway from the habitat. Ezekiel estimated offhand he had witnessed over a million or so mantis females disposing of their mates.

After that, Ezekiel passed over several bricks expressing several principles of Justice that Tokimi had formulated for her sister... that whore's universes. The perfection of these ideals still astounded Ezekiel, and every time he went to Tsunami's universe, he always saw how the principal of Justice allowed everything to exist there. How dare Tsunami steal his wife's greatest triumph from her by sealing her here! Ezekiel clenched his fists and ground his teeth together for a moment. The bricks symbolized the internal mechanics, underlying things such as science and mathematics which allowed one who had done wrong in some way to get what was coming to them. The Buddhists of Earth called it karma. Ezekiel smiled as he walked over the various bricks making up the long road murals. There was the slowly plotted, meticulously plotted revenge of a life-long rival against his better; a husband dispatching his wife and her lover when they attempted to murder him and take his money and children; and, Ezekiel's personal favourite, a man brutally getting even with all that had abandoned him after he was paralysed. It was quite a feat for someone confined to a wheelchair, but where there was a will, there was a way.

And then, there were nightmares, greed, and jealousy as well as all the other dark emotions. Some were there to begin with, but Tokimi perfected them. This allowed a king to become an emperor, or even a warlord; a spouse to commit adultery; or a spurned potential lover to plot revenge rather than truly find the one he is destined for. Another popular one that made both Ezekiel and Tokimi smile was the killing of a rapist who was let go because of legal technicalities.

He smiled, a kid in a candy store of dark delights and gritty, seething hatred and vengeance. Ezekiel was almost at Tokimi's temple, and now he arrived at the section reserved for more serious evils. These were direct infractions against Tsunami; events that caused all hell to break lose in universal history. In the small chambers off to the side, this was where Tokimi kept her own prisoners, and where her torturers and executioners did their work. Bills of the particulars of the guilty hung on a long wall outside, a memorial of guilt and transgressions punished by the will of Lady Tokimi. Off to the side of the priesthood's temple was another construction; a huge stone building so dark that it seemed to even absorb all light even in the cold marble grey of Tokimi's domain. This was where the damned in Tsunami's universe dwelt, the ones who weren't even allowed to roam freely here in any capacity, the worst of the worst. They were destructive to everyone they came into contact with in life and death; even themselves.

Ezekiel stopped for a moment to admire a constant life-size and totally real recreation of the assassination of Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife by a Serbian nationalist. He and the Lady always admired this magnificent act for its almost single-handed role in plunging nearly the entire planet Earth into bloody world war. He smiled at the forever death-surprise of the archduke as the assassin's bullet pierced into him, and then he was off again.

At the foot of Tokimi's temple was a smaller but still grand facility for the priestesses and priests of the Dark Lady. Even though Ezekiel rarely saw anyone on his walks, he always saw a few people here tending to the grounds, statues, and murals. He nodded to several young women and men shrouded in black as they efficiently went about their tasks for that day. They returned his gesture with bows before continuing.

He briefly inspected the murals of the ancient wars that established the Jurai Kingdom; and Tokimi's successful role in making it a bloody forging along with her patient, ongoing insurgent campaign against Tsunami's slaves. That campaign seemed to finally be coming to a head. There were sinfully lustful depictions of the noble Knights and followers of Tsunami falling prey to the seductions of Tokimi's priestesses and priests. Ezekiel chuckled always as he saw the murals of the sanctimonious Knights realizing their sin, and also their lust, even love for their dark bride or groom, or both, and abandoning Tsunami. Slowly, deep and patient corruption would do its work with them.

"You dance with the Devil," Ezekiel said to the mural of a former Knight of Tsunami gazing with eyes of hatred at the first Queen of Jurai, Hinase. Beside him, his dark clad wife with a swelling belly stood proud of her deeds. "The Devil changes you," he laughed.

Finally, Ezekiel arrived at his Lady's temple; his footfalls thudding confidently. A whistle was on his breath, some old ditty he half-remembered from some dingy pool hall somewhere along the line. No guards, sentries or sycophants challenged or even appeared before him as he smiled in anticipation of his Lady and made his way towards the immense double doors of the audience chamber, save one.

"You are tardy, my Lord Ezekiel," D-3's eyes, long white hair, bald head, and glittering jewel appeared looming over him.

Ezekiel merely glanced up, giving a cocksure smirk around the nearly finished cigarette as his fingers slowly removed it from his mouth. Ezekiel exhaled smoke into the air in D-3's direction and flicked the cigarette butt at the massive brooding artifice of the old man. He leered up at D-3.

"Mr. D-3... hey there! How goes supervising our Lady's work?" Ezekiel instinctively let the set of his shoulders back a bit, and his feet to space wider apart. This added another level of arrogance to his stance and also was a good semi-defensive posture as well.

The eyes of the old man gleamed a bit. "You wasted time by not phasing in here directly."

Ezekiel gave no response.

"I cannot fathom why you insist on walking," D-3 pondered in a tone of voice that betrayed some smugness. "For beings endowed with great powers such as we--"

A twitch in Ezekiel's left eye marked his annoyance.

"--walking to an audience with the Lady is usually not even practiced by even her lowliest servants, who no doubt do not wish to incur the Lady's or my wrath by being late," Ezekiel could just hear the smile curling D-3's nonexistent mouth.

The champion of the Lady in question raised his eyes to fully glare up at D-3. "First, never presume we are anything alike, old man."

Ezekiel sensed a rebuttal coming but impressed his will on D-3 to be silent; much to the demigod's surprise, although he did not show it. D-3 accepted the criticism gracefully enough.

"And second," Ezekiel eyes glanced back down to the grand double doors ahead of him. "You will report, D-3, as to the progress of the Lady's and my plans."

A glint in D-3's eyes betrayed the slight furrow of his vast white valley of a brow. "It is well in hand, as you have seen to yourself--"

"--against your recommendation to stay here, all snug and cozy," Ezekiel jeered.

The jewel in D-3's forehead glittered as well. "As you now seem to be returning to enjoy."

Ezekiel exaggerated a shrug. "In my place, would you do any different?"

Now, D-3's brow and voice betrayed more than their usual chilliness. "... May I ask exactly what My Lord Ezekiel is implying?"

"I'm going to make sweet love to my wife, D-3," Ezekiel smiled in cruel sincerity. "And, you are going to watch the door for us, as usual."

D-3's scowl dug deeper across his ethereal features. The jewel glittered again. "As is my duty to serve and protect our Lady--"

"Nononono, my good D-3, my Lady," Ezekiel corrected sharply. He began to walk forward again, almost totally ignoring D-3's now simmering brooding.

"I did not mean to imply any sort of improper relationship or role for myself with my... the Lady Tokimi," D-3 said quietly. Ezekiel imagined if D-3 was not a demigod the tone would have been simpering.

Ezekiel continued walking towards the huge double doors of Tokimi's grand audience chamber. "You may not have, D-3, but never forget your heart and desires are open to me too; despite your advanced age and experience." At the last, Ezekiel could not help it but turn around again and add, "and you'll always be my Lady's doorman." He winked and willed the doors open himself. He was about to stroll across the threshold, a spring to his step and a whistle on his breath, when something happened he had not quite anticipated.

"Is that so...?" D-3 pondered out loud directly above Ezekiel's head.

Ezekiel had no intention of listening to D-3 any longer, but suddenly found himself unable to move. He stopped whistling, his teeth gritted in seething anger for a moment, but he controlled himself. "Release me, D-3," Ezekiel kept his voice level.

"You," the demigod steadily raised his voice to seem to Ezekiel like the entire universe around him boomed with it. "A man who was without a face, without limbs... with a forgotten name," D-3 now shouted down at him, "A man, I recall, that only needed burying or burning to be ended from the mortal world..."

Ezekiel opted not to break D-3's hold over him for the moment. 'Let the old man blow off some steam. Then, he'll get back to his duties.' However, a cold knot of memory recalled for Ezekiel a period of long awake darkness that still loomed for him... back there. He was not afraid of it; he had triumphed with the Lady's help. It had only made him stronger. He drank the black poison, and it made him stronger. Trial by fire, isn't that what the sophisticates called it?

D-3 continued his tirade, "...a mere mortal, a Terran man, being allowed to lay with the Lady of the Dark!"

"...get over it," Ezekiel managed to snort.

"Did you, Ezekiel? Do not forget your long death," D-3 glared, and for a moment, Ezekiel remembered it was just like D-3 said it was, death without the benefits, you could say.

Ezekiel was momentarily surprised when D-3 pushed him back away from the doorway and suspended him about fifty meters up in the air; halfway from the demigod's ethereal face. In fact, Ezekiel allowed himself a slightly rueful smirk with a mental reminder to be more mindful of D-3 later on.

"Insolent trash," D-3 stated to Ezekiel's face, low and cold.

Ezekiel's face merely broke out into a broad grin; he said nothing.

"ENOUGH!" a voice boomed in both Ezekiel and D-3's minds.

D-3 held Ezekiel in place for a moment longer before returning him back to the doorway, pointedly by phasing.

"Perhaps you will learn to appreciate the gift of teleportation, Lord Ezekiel," D-3's voice almost seemed to be said through a smirk as well.

"Go fuck yourself, you old coot," Ezekiel proudly threw over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold. "The Dark Lady sure as shit isn't going to." The doors closed behind him.

Above this, D-3's eyes narrowed, and he slowly faded out of view. If anyone had been there, the jewel in his forehead was now glowing brightly. The demi-god's eyes also betrayed a brief flash of another, more pained emotion, but then it was gone along with the artifice; leaving the entranceway of the temple empty again.

000

Tokimi's audience chamber was huge: columns spiralling up into pitch darkness before they appeared again and supports becoming flying buttresses holding up the ceiling. Ezekiel did not stop to admire the chambers. There were more important and more beautiful things to see. He strode out onto the audience span, ending in a circle where her servants would report to the Dark Lady. Ezekiel stopped in the middle, his boot-clad feet clicking to a stop. He knelt and closed his eyes. The lips that normally seemed very apt to upturn into a gleefully smug smirk now flattened into a solemn prayer.

Ezekiel had not long to wait. When he next opened his eyes, he was in another chamber, just as vast and vaulting but with a solid floor and a bed in the middle. Ezekiel felt two cold hands slink onto his shoulder, and a different smile came to his lips then, a smile of almost relief, and deep affection.

"D-3 has always been like this," the voice said above him. "But, he will not ever betray us."

"Underneath his professional demeanour and reserve, as well as all of his power, is still an unrequited puppy love for you, my Lady," Ezekiel declared to the floor.

"I know," the voice nodded. "I suspect that given another few millennia, he will find someone else." Ezekiel heard a smile, "He will have to; I have already made my choice."

Ezekiel actually still did blush when complimented like this.

"Rise and report, my champion," the cold voice breezed about him still, causing his eyes to shine and his smile to broaden.

"My Lady," Ezekiel responded, doing as she bade.

Before him, the corporeal form of the Dark Goddess, the Lady Tokimi, stood. Her caramel brown hair flew smoothly behind her beautifully painted face. Her golden medallion was at the apex of her head with two lighter bands of brown hair spreading impossibly, but proudly, from the medallion's center. Her favorite color, green like a summer's ivy, colored her skin from just below her violet eyes, encasing her neck and extending onward below her dress. Ezekiel remembered the first time he beheld this dress; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever dreamed possible next to Tokimi herself. The dress itself was like a fine rustling of warm and harsh colors of the autumn and the night: Billowing white bands of gossamer cloth sprouted from the red jewel that seemingly secured the dress to Tokimi's upper chest and neck. Below, that fabric of a dark, dried blood red contrasted with bright yellows, lighter reds, and a belt of yellow suspended in air around her perfect hourglass waist. Impossible inner cloaks of grey and black started underneath the gold breastplates and spread downward to her feet and on off behind her, floating serenely like waiting talons. Her hands were taloned; sharp and pointed, encased in the most royal purple shade, and were reaching out for him. Lastly, Ezekiel's favorite, a large suspended necklace was connected to the jewel just above her well-sculpted breasts.

"The progress continues, my Lady," Ezekiel smiled. "That rock I was floating above is about to blink out entirely... The Galactic Union's soon to be a burning house," he chuckled softly, "and even Jurai itself cannot shake off the effects of the persuasion for much longer."

Her piercing eyes bored into his. "Very good. Thank you my champion." Her lips curled into a smile that would have caused the mightiest of Jurai's Kings and Queens to quiver in their boots and pray to Tsunami for deliverance from the frigid, calm, and above all patient glee evident in Tokimi's smile, though their prayers to Tsunami would have angered the Dark Lady all the more.

"I have watched you, my champion, and I am pleased with your work." She folded her arms neatly across her abdomen, her cloaks seeming to simultaneously accentuate and hide the curves of the body she had fashioned to interact in Tsunami's universe: her perfect hourglass figure; her ramrod straight posture; her large, productive breasts; and pronounced hips. Ezekiel and Tokimi had worked on this body for a long while, carefully touching and interacting with each other.

"I am honored by your compliments, my love," Ezekiel said sincerely, waiting for Tokimi to speak again.

"You know why I have summoned you here," the Dark Lady stated.

"Yes," Ezekiel stepped forward, knowing the answer. Tokimi smiled again, watching as Ezekiel advanced towards her with a playful grin on his face. His dress was his usual leather jacket, black pants, black shirt and work boots.

Tokimi smiled down at the man approaching her. "I could feel you longing for my touch after your last chore, my champion." Tokimi lightly licked her lips, enjoying the sensations her body was providing her with. The Dark Lady thought back on their first encounters after she chose him, how she had looked into his mind and tried to create the sensations and feelings he craved for.

At times like this, Tokimi left her mind unguarded to his mental probing so Ezekiel knew exactly what she was recalling: how the Dark Lady's champion, having just accepted the mantle of husband, lay back on a type of bed she had summoned up for their consummation; how he had closed his eyes and fantasized at the dream images of her he knew; how rigid his erection had been when the spectral hands of his dark Goddess began to caress him, learning how an aroused male feels; and how fascinated Tokimi had felt as she heard Ezekiel's moans, his panting breath, and the first appearance of slick pre-seminal fluid on the crown of his shaft. Both Tokimi and Ezekiel shared the recollection of the formers' first approximation of an orgasm, and the latters' first time with his Lady... no, more than "Lady", wife.

Ezekiel remembered feeling like at the time that he'd just came into cold, thin air suspended above him, like masturbating or having a wet dream only no mess to clean up. As successive experiences occurred between them over the years, Tokimi's humanoid form was getting more and more accurate. Now, as Ezekiel reached up and roughly grabbed both of her breasts, it seemed that the Dark Lady was getting more and more details right. Well, perhaps this time would be during the right time, then...

"You wish me to make you big with child, my Dark One?" Ezekiel asked, gently laying his hand over her clothed abdomen.

Tokimi nodded, "I command it."

Ezekiel smiled. "Then, you shall have it after our usual pleasures," he sighed as Tokimi's hand gently lay down on the front of his jeans. "Ah..." he said breathlessly.

"You did an exceptional job, Ezekiel..." Tokimi murmured, lowering her head to kiss him fiercely on the lips.

"Thank you..." Ezekiel's replied after returning the kiss. His hands kneaded and squeezed Tokimi's breasts through her cloaks like bread dough, his fingers finding their way up to the jewel right below her neck. She allowed his touch to unclasp the jewel; it phased away silently along with her necklace. The outer covers of her finery fell away along with the belt, phasing away as well. She now stood in a black and grey gown that clung invitingly to her breasts and hips; promising a place for him. Tokimi moaned as she felt Ezekiel's hand move along the inner cloak, finding a seam and slipping his hand in. Ezekiel felt her skin beneath the cloak; fingers questing, finding, and squeezing a nipple. Ezekiel smiled, cupping the magnificent mound of flesh firmly, the pleasure he could feel in Tokimi's mind causing his budding erection to strain against the confines of his jeans.

"Oh!" Tokimi gasped as Ezekiel fondled her, his fingers rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger tightly. Ezekiel leaned up to kiss her again on the lips; she reciprocated lovingly. Ezekiel looked into Tokimi's eyes after their kiss was finished, his hand still doing its firm work underneath her cloaks. "My love..." he whispered, kissing again. She closed her eyes. The Dark Goddess continued to stroke Ezekiel through his jeans; his constrained erection now pressed deliciously against the fabric, a small wet spot appearing on the crotch of the pants. Ezekiel moved his other hand to sneak under the cloak, caressing and fondling Tokimi's other breast; his fingers finding firm and easy purchase now on both nipples. He grinned, twisting them, applying more pressure just how she always liked it before cupping them both in his hands.

"Ezekiel!" Tokimi's eyes opened as she felt waves of pleasure coursing through her being. He smiled, his hands parting the folds of the cloak... It phased away. Tokimi stood naked before him now, his hands caressing her milky white high-pointed breasts, her perfectly sculpted female form with her caramel hair now flowing all about her down to her waist. The green extended downward from where her cloaks and clothing usually hid it. The green ivy pattern wrapped over the breasts that were flattened against Ezekiel's chest as he embraced Tokimi close to him again. The pattern continued, extended down her flat abdomen down to her hips and ending at her toes, which were totally green.

Tokimi smiled at Ezekiel's appreciative look over of her. Already, Tokimi could feel the fluids at work within her mound. Her vaginal muscles were tightening, the lubricating fluids of reproduction making her passage ready for her husband. The lips of her opening glistening, the hair there becoming moist to the touch. Ezekiel stood there, still dressed, but the crotch of his jeans was bunched up almost comically before her; his nearly painful erection tenting them.

"My champion... it is time," Tokimi commanded, a soft smile playing at her lips as she looked him over as well.

They moved in time with their kisses and caresses as they moved over to the bed. He was about to guide her down onto the covers, but Tokimi bade him to allow her to stand. Ezekiel smiled, feeling her tug at his arm until he sat down on the bed in front of her; directly in front of her breasts. She hugged him to her bosom then, Ezekiel kissing her breasts, his lips finding her nipples and loving both as he listened to her moans and sighs, speaking of her pleasure to him. Tokimi's hands ran up and down his back smoothly, tugging his shirt out of the jeans. Her hands found the flesh underneath, caressing the small of his back.

Ezekiel continued his sensuous and loving caring for her breasts, increasing the pressure his mouth applied to the precious and plentiful mounds. He caressed Tokimi's firm buttocks, squeezing the two cheeks in his palms. They were generating an almost fearful amount of passion here. In fact, it was fearful, a curious grunting, moaning, and slurping sound providing a soundtrack for this immaculate bed chamber with its impossibly fine silk black sheets. They pawed at each other, both trying to satiate the deepest hunger within them.

Tokimi stepped back from Ezekiel; he gazed up into her eyes for a moment. She smiled, actually smiled. Her hands began working up and down inside his jacket. The well-worn leather jacket was quickly removed and tossed aside, landing some distance away unheard by the two dark lovers.

The Dark Goddess unbuttoned his shirt, the article of clothing joining its cold weather brother on the floor as well. Next, Ezekiel's undershirt came off, and Tokimi was running her elegant and sharp taloned fingers and nails across his chest. Eyes closed, Ezekiel gritted at the exquisite torture at the tips of his Lady's fingers. Now, a hand ran down his stomach, trailing over his navel, the sparse hair above his waist, to unsnap the buttons of the fly of his jeans. Ezekiel wore no underwear underneath, as did not his Lady, the purpose of undergarments for such beings meaningless.

He raised his legs to allow her to swiftly divest him of his jeans, and they hit the floor with a slight jangle. Ezekiel grinned, his hand going out to take Tokimi's; she squeezed it. Ezekiel motioned for her to sit down on the bed with him. With a shadow of a smile, she did so, snaking up on the bed past him. Tokimi, eyes on him, slowly reclined on the bed before him, her legs spreading. She opened herself for him, allowing him to do as he would with her, but he had better do it well, those patient eyes said to him.

"And, I shall," Ezekiel said to himself and his wife; promise and declaration. He slid up on the bed next to her... a hand or two lightly slipping up her feet, her legs and her thighs. His hands fluttering against her stomach, giving each breast and nipple a firm squeeze again. Now drawn up against her, Ezekiel embraced her, his lips latching securely onto hers. Their tongues mingled and played. Tokimi moaned, her hand trailing again up and down the hair on Ezekiel's stomach. Her taloned nails scraped lusciously, causing Ezekiel to smile and moan as his hands reached up to run through his Lady's hair. Ezekiel sighed, his lips against her ear as she gripped his engorged and slippery shaft in her hand. She ran her thumb over the crown and the moisture there, pressing against the glans and nearly causing Ezekiel to orgasm right there. He held on, his ever-increasing moans causing Tokimi to smile more, and to only hold his firm erection for the moment.

Ezekiel breathed in, the air around them no longer sterile and cool, but warm and filled with the musky odors of their sweat and slickness. They breathed it in, the scents sending them higher, lubricating their lust, and stoking the flames more and more. As he drank of her lips again. one of his hands left her hair and meandered back down, past her chest, her navel, and lovingly tracing the outline of the sparse caramel brown pubic hair that covered her vaginal lips, framing them exactly to her husband's delight. Ezekiel was right next to Tokimi, kissing her neck and nuzzling her roughly, his fingers spread over her crotch, pressing and cupping the area.

"Ooooooh..." Tokimi uttered, her eyes closed.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear after kissing it.

"Champion... lover... husband...!" she groaned loudly in pleasure as his index finger started to concentrate on her clitoris, stroking slowly. "Love you..." she whispered breathlessly.

Ezekiel smiled and buried his face in her hair, worshipping it as the finery it was. His fingers continued to pleasure his wife. One finger became two as he shifted to a slightly faster rubbing motion over the area, firmly assaulting the nub of pleasure and the area just above it with care. Ezekiel felt her get hotter and wetter, a slightly sticky sound joined the chorus of other sounds as his fingers spread the wetness over the sensitive nub. He continued his finger motions, getting faster. Her moans grew louder. He was about to speed up when...

... Her hand had come up, and her fingers wrapped around his arm firmly. Ezekiel stopped at the look she gave him. He smiled and nodded, his fingers releasing her now reddened and throbbing wet clitoris. His fingers now migrated down to her opening, the tip of his finger pressing and fluttering between those lips. Ezekiel's index finger slid right in.

"Ah!" Tokimi sighed, feeling her inner walls being stretched just the way she liked. More lubricant dripped out onto Ezekiel's fingers.

"My Lady..." he smiled. He began to thrust the finger in and out while rubbing the insides of her nether lips. Tokimi's hands continued to rub and knead the flesh of Ezekiel's arms as she moaned ever louder. He added another finger, increasing the pace of his thrusting. The musky smell of her now filled his nostrils completely and her slight, as almost musical moans wafted into his ears. Ezekiel gritted his teeth in concentration; both to calm his own raging desire and to further stoke his Lady's. Joining the potent aroma of arousal was a steady and slow wet slushing sound as Ezekiel's fingers, now three of them, widened Tokimi's opening. Grinning at the expression of lust and love on her face, he arched a thumb to gently stroke her clitoris again.

"Ezekiel!" she nearly screamed, her eyes snapping open, stopping him. It was time. With a hot, wet, and deep kiss to Tokimi, Ezekiel sat up on his haunches, sliding down in between her legs. She spread them even wider, it seemed to him with glee.

"Please husband..." she melodically pleaded to him.

Ezekiel nodded, his engorged shaft reaching a point of rigidity that he had to make a conscious effort not to touch it... He would take no chances of not finishing within the Dark One. He hoped he would last long enough to give her the pleasure due to her... With the dull ache beginning to manifest itself in his drawn-out testacles and the amount of drops of pearly moisture coating his shaft and crown, his eyes once more took in the splendor of his Lady.

Once more, her eyes beckoned him. He crawled over on top of her.

Ezekiel glanced down and made sure his up cocked penis was in the right alignment to properly take his Lady. He was. "I wish to make you pregnant, my saviour," he said as he kissed her savagely, letting his saliva go where it would. Tokimi secured her arms around his buttocks, drawing him in. The crown of his rod brushed her slick entrance slightly, causing both of them to gasp. Ezekiel pushed forward, his engorged crown parting her wet vaginal lips smoothly and quickly. Tokimi gasped arching her back, letting her arms travel up his back. She said no words; merely letting her nails sink into the flesh of his back.

Ezekiel was quick thrusting his entire length into her slippery coldness; he drew back slowly, nearly leaving the confines of her vagina. The Dark Lady would have protested rather forcefully if he had disengaged from her completely, but Ezekiel didn't. He rammed right back into Tokimi as hard as he could causing her to scream his name loudly against his shoulder. She thrashed at him in the sea of sensations and emotions she found herself slowly becoming part of. Ezekiel gritted his teeth, receiving the same feelings from Tokimi, along with her nails drawing blood from his back. Ezekiel settled into a steady rhythm of fast never ending complete strokes into her frigid splendor, feeling her ample but cold honey soaking his rod completely.

Tokimi ground her hips into his pelvis in concert with his movements for a little bit, but soon Ezekiel found that his Lady had taken control. He was merely doing his best to keep up with the rate at which she wanted him thrusting into her. If anyone had been able to see their lovemaking, it would have either resembled a rape or a violent attack with the only question being exactly who was the victim and who was the perpetrator. Maybe both were. It was not long before in midst of the dozens of sensations Ezekiel felt his insides tense, approaching orgasm.

He steeled himself and increased the rhythm into Tokimi even more, slamming his crotch into hers and sending his manhood into her deeper and deeper. His pubic hair meeting and tangling with hers. Ezekiel's hands enfolded Tokimi, pressing her closer to him, his lips kissing her face and lips repeatedly. She responded by her arms pressing him as close as possible, her hands now squeezing his behind firmly and drawing his pistoning energy further into her well.

"Ohhhhh...!" she clung to him with all parts of her, the Goddess herself feeling her own pleasure approach. "Ezekiel! My dear champion!" She hooked her legs around his buttocks and held him even closer, hands roaming his somewhat bloody back again. Their sweat and fluids mixed as one, scents of their love working around them, through the dark bed sheets, and to the floor. Ecstatic grunts, slurps, and a steady, rhythmically increasing sound like two sticky surfaces being peeled back over and over dominated all.

Ezekiel groaned low in the back of his throat, marshalling the last of his defences for a few final thrusts, hard and fast ones. Tokimi instinctively spread her legs just a bit wider; ready to receive his offering. Her entire being was wrapped up in the dance undertaken here; her slickened center bared for her husband's taking... his fertilization of her. Suddenly, Tokimi felt her lips dry. She wetted them as she concentrated on the feelings within her dear champion.

"So...close...!" he husked.

"... Yes," was all Tokimi had the presence of mind to utter as she gave herself completely over to what came next.

Ezekiel groaned loudly, "... my love... my wife... my Goddess...!" he shouted all at once.

He continuing to thrust as a deep orgasm shuddered through him from the bottom of his testacles up to his stomach. His shaft pistoned in and out of Tokimi's soaked opening, pulsing out fresh milky strands of seed to impact deep inside the Dark Goddess. Ezekiel felt as if a hot and delicious wire that had been kindled for a long time within his stomach and was finally being dragged out slowly through his urethra; agonizing and pleasing all at once. Tokimi's eyes were closed, the sensations only increasing in her since she had not quite crested yet. She held Ezekiel close as his thrusts slowed, the streams of semen becoming a mere slow trickle. Tokimi savored this feeling within her vaginal walls. The champion had done his job and proven his dark love for her. For the moment, her orgasm could wait.

At last his thrusts subsided, and he collapsed against her breathing deeply, laying a few sweaty kisses on her neck. She smiled, honestly happy at his satisfaction with her, patting his back where she had inflicted those scratches.

After a few moments of rest, Ezekiel was now sitting up again, his face set in pleased concentration. His hand was once again petting the Lady's most private and beautiful place, now sanctified by his and her fluids. Ezekiel's fingers were rubbing intently at the top of Tokimi's labia; her now engorged and excessively sensitive clitoris nearly sore from the increasing waves of pleasure. The waves grew ever higher in time with Ezekiel's hand motions and his occasional kiss or caress, and finally crested.

"EZEKIEL!" she screamed, her hands digging into the sheets of the bed. Her legs writhed, and the toes on her feet worked in odd patterns as she squirmed and moaned deeply. Her center slushed a bit louder, and more wetness coated Ezekiel's fingers now, the digits still rubbing diligently. A circular rubbing motion became a hard stroke with the fingers pressing the sensitive area firmly; Ezekiel's palm flexing and caressing her caramel pubic hair lovingly. The Dark Lady rode her orgasm, shuddering while sweat broke out on her forehead. Her lips parted, the woman gasping at the intensity. It was almost painful for her. The feeling radiated from her clitoris, through her entire crotch... outward... all the way to her fingertips.

"Oh... oh... oh!" Tokimi whimpered, rocking her hips back and forth, wide for Ezekiel's hand. He continued to rub and stroke that heated center for a few moments but slowed down as his wife's cries and moans grew softer.

After a moment, Tokimi slowly arrived back down from her orgasm. Ezekiel smiled, proud of his ability to please the most magnificent being in all of the universes. And here... she had chosen him as her champion, her husband... the father of her future children! Ezekiel's hand left that wonderful area, and he felt a languid tug at his arm by Tokimi. He laid down beside her, pointedly licking his slick hands clean of her juices. She smiled tiredly, telling that he enjoyed both the taste and the thought of him partaking of her fluids in this manner.

They lay in bed, their bodies intertwined. While Tokimi did not require sleep and Ezekiel very little, they both enjoyed dozing in each other's arms after their lovemaking. After some time, Tokimi kissed Ezekiel's brow. "Something is on my love's mind."

Ezekiel smirked, climbing up to lay on top of her. He barely covered her body. Tokimi smiled down at him, his head resting just below her neck as her hand gently ran up and down the back of Ezekiel's thigh. Ezekiel's penis was still semi-hard resting across Tokimi's vulva while he idly let his hand smooth along Tokimi's rear up her ribcage, counting the accuracy of the bones. Not a detail had been missed. "A persistence... a form of some sort," he frowned, trying to describe some of his visions of late, "like the sky of black we are filling that whore's universe with has a wisp of cloud in it."

"What type of cloud?" Tokimi eyes coolly watched her champion.

Ezekiel seemed about to say something, but he couldn't quite put it into words. Tokimi could see this and gently probed his mind to see what he was getting at. "I saw him too."

He nodded silently, his eyes widening slightly. "I don't have the words to explain it... him," Ezekiel adjusted himself a bit letting his arms encircle his Dark Lady more. "He knows, my Dark One. He knows about us, about the whore of light, not much else though... I don't think."

Tokimi confirmed this with a nod. "He does not know about my sister or Tsunami's little 'champion' yet."

Ezekiel smiled with dark amusement. "I know where he is."

Tokimi matched his smile.

"I can make it so he never even meets the whore's followers on the other side of my home world." Ezekiel gently reached up and cupped Tokimi's chin firmly. "It'll be easy," he kissed her gently.

Tokimi mentally expressed her approval of his plans as she responded to his kiss, letting her tongue invade his mouth. They made out for a little while, Ezekiel's arousal starting to surge back from it's temporary sweet rest. Tokimi had already decided on his reward.

"My Lady Tokimi..." Ezekiel said with a change of tone, "another thing comes to mind in regards to the situation with your sisters."

"Dr. Clay?" Tokimi correctly marked the flash of anger she felt in Ezekiel.

"If he had succeeded in his self-appointed mission to bring your sister to you, things would be going a whole lot easier than they are now." Clay had always been someone Ezekiel never felt was truly competent in his service to Tokimi, despite them never having met.

"I know this, my love," Tokimi said simply, telling Ezekiel she was in no mood for a review of past events and actions in relation to how they effected "the plan," as they both sometimes called it.

Ezekiel hugged Tokimi to him, "I only want you to hold complete dominion over all space and time, my Lady."

Tokimi smiled, her eyes glinting either in love, hatred, or annoyance. It was the first option, if only because Ezekiel could feel it. "I have an idea you might like, Ezekiel..." Tokimi lovingly sneered.

Ezekiel gently laid a hand on her thigh, his half-erect penis starting to poke into the flesh there again. He smiled thinly, "What is your idea, Lady?"

The Dark Lady mentally told Ezekiel the basics of the idea. It was simple, really. She had only just thought it up observing Ezekiel's anger at Clay's "sloppiness" as he had once put it.

Ezekiel grinned, stroking her inner thigh now, just enjoying serving his Dark Goddess. "It will be done, my love." He laid a single kiss on her right nipple as his hardening erection lay almost across her vulva. Tokimi closed her eyes, enjoying the returning arousal Ezekiel was sending to her.

"And, as for the walker of my dear sister, Tsunami, I believe she fancied such men knights," Tokimi almost spat the word. "I believe he is worth enough to try and bend to our will."

Ezekiel nodded in affirmation, saying nothing, continuing to cuddle with Tokimi.

"You've seen another interesting specimen crawling about its business in Tsunami's universe, Ezekiel," she almost whispered. She didn't give a chance for him to respond, "You may try to convert her. She has a hollow soul that knows only medals and achievement that needs to be filled." Tokimi gently patted his head.

Ezekiel smiled in love, reached his free hand up to roughly grabs her left breast as he kissed her again.

000

The evening news on the Baltimore, Maryland, NBC affiliate was the first television news outlet in a major US city to suspend regular programming and report on what was now being called by those who believed it, "the zombie epidemic/pandemic." Channel 7, as it was locally known, was the first station broadcasting and the last to shut down in the days to come. It would be hoped that they would have done a good job, but while not completely botching their responsibility to their viewing public, they didn't exactly help them out. The anchors on Channel 7 challenged every expert from the military or CDC who appeared to instruct the public on how to deal with this crisis logically and effectively.

Mostly, this antagonism was represented by 11:00 News Anchor and "meal-ticket" for NBC 7, Herbert W. Staten. Here follows a transcript made between 3:17 PM and 3:24 PM on October 17th:

Staten: "Welcome back to live team coverage of what is being called by some the greatest disaster suffered in this country since the attack on Pearl Harbor, and by others a hoax surpassing Orson Welles' 'War of the World.' radio broadcast. From one side of the state to the other, panic and near-hysteria has seem to have taken to the streets in the form of armed gangs of men and women, some under the command of law enforcement, some not... some even pursued by law enforcement. All are patrolling the area in search of re-animated human corpses, said to be attacking the living and multiplying rapidly."

Michelle Rochester, Staten's co-anchor picks up here

Rochester: "Currently, ten states have declared states of emergency and Governor Morgan is said to be considering following suit in the next thirty minutes. In Washington, the White House has been tight-lipped about this, but... a piece of paper is placed on the news desk "This just in... A press conference with White House Press Secretary George Fitzsimmons will be held at 4:30 PM Eastern."

Staten is also handed a new copy sheet

Staten: "This just in, folks. ... It would appear that Baltimore police chief Byron Rogan has formally asked Mayor Symington to... to put the entire city in lock-down. According to the police department, six city blocks are currently being shut down because of... infestation of the walking dead including twelve public housing projects. Baltimore residents are advised to stay home and stay out of the areas between Deerborn and Lincoln Avenues."

Rochester: "Joining us now, regularly scheduled, from the CDC branch in Detroit is Dr. Millard Ralse."

Dr. Ralse appears: a rotund, bearded man wearing glasses and a black eye-patch to match his black hair and beard.

Staten: "Dr. Ralse, how you doing tonight?"

Dr. Ralse: "Perfectly awful, Herbert. Let's dispense with the chit-chat and get down to it, shall we?"

Staten: "If... if you insist, Dr. Ralse. What do you suggest people do?"

Dr. Ralse: "First of all, if anyone is living in a rural area and can still do so, LEAVE. Leave and get to the most populated area you can possibly get to. Most police and fire departments should be setting up rescue check points within the next hour... if not the next couple hours. Above all else, we must remain calm! If you encounter one of these 'walking dead,' do not fight it. Just run away as fast as you can. There are already enough firearms out there, and I implore the average citizen NOT to participate. One dead zombie will only cause more to show up. Please, please just run away from them."

Staten and Rochester seem totally aghast at this. Staten recovers first.

Staten: "Surely, you must realize that instructions like this from an authority like yourself could be just asking for a state of anarchy in the populous at large. Dr. Ralse, even advising against the carrying of firearms, sir... just running away from them? Is that not an invitation for public hysteria?"

Staten seems to be a bit pale now

Dr. Ralse: "Mr. Staten, given what I've found out in just the past hour, a state of anarchy is preferable to rows of houses in every city in America being a slaughterhouse for these creatures."

000

The Ridgeford Shopping Centre in Wales, Great Britain, was the site of a most horrible outbreak as the entire complex had become a sort of informal shelter or refuge for people in the surrounding area. The gates were locked, and the people inside felt relatively safe from the zombies that were now beginning to fill the British countryside. At around 2:19 PM local time on October 17, a man named Robert Gatwick who was taking shelter along with some 1,412 other people, suffered a heart attack and died in the corner of a sporting goods store he had taken refuge in. His aim was privacy, and that's just what the zombie that arose soon after had.

The people taking shelter inside had locked the gates and barricaded all the main entrances and exits. Fear and unfamiliarity did the rest.

000

In the area around Columbus, Ohio, it is noteworthy to report that the sheriff's office, in conjunction with various localities and the National Guard, succeeded in one of the first containments of zombism in a set area for a period of time longer than twenty-four hours. This was accomplished after the incident that Warren Hudson had heard on his CB the day before. The county sheriff, Bill Matteson, had the benefit of having some one hundred flame-throwers in storage in the county building. Almost immediately, an armed caravan on fire trucks began scouring the area, shooting and burning any zombies or dead bodies they came across. By nightfall, some 958 zombies were disposed of, and proactive measures were started to further control the outbreak. Columbus, Ohio, almost became totally safe.

000

In Utah, what would become the biggest concentration of survivors of the zombie plague of 1995 were beginning to find success in dealing with events. Zombie containment in Utah began as more of a local effort, beginning in Salt Lake City itself. On October 15th, Mayor Jackson Riber ordered all police and fire-fighter forces to be placed under his command as he began general control operations. This, by itself, is not too significant since many other cities were doing the same thing. What is significant is that in Salt Lake City, the people totally cooperated to the best of their ability, all the people. Practically everyone did their part calmly, and throughout the state of Utah, hardly any breakdown of civil order occurred. In all the United States, the area that Bringham Young had settled a hundred years before had the least amount of zombism reported, next to extremely rural areas or the aforementioned Columbus area.

In the world, it only ranked next to Japan and Taiwan.

000

It happened sooner than anyone at the Masaki house had expected. At around 2:34 AM on October 18th, Tenchi was shaken awake by his grandfather. The boy was about to ask, half-asleep what Yosho wanted, but the look on his face right away silenced and answered any questions Tenchi had.

"Get Tenchi-ken and meet me downstairs." With that, Yosho was gone from his room and could be heard in the hall banging on doors.

Tenchi sprang out of bed, already dressed. His hand flew to his nightstand drawer where Tenchi-ken was. Once secure on his belt, Tenchi went out into hall, nearly running into Nobuyuki and Mihoshi.

"Dad!" Tenchi didn't spare a moment after regaining his bearings; he was rapidly descending the stairs. "Stay inside!"

Nobuyuki nodded. Mihoshi stepped forward. "But, Tenchi! It's my duty as a Galaxy Policeperson..." she trailed off, Tenchi no longer being in earshot.

Nobuyuki put a hand on her shoulder, his eyes fearful. "Please, Mihoshi... help me protect Kiyone and Sasami," the door behind them was Nobuyuki's room, where Kiyone was still sleeping off her near-breakdown from earlier. Or, so they thought, for the teal-haired detective opened the door, fully dressed.

"Mihoshi," Kiyone said, her usual professional tone, shoving the blonde's pistol at her. "Duty calls. Stay here and protect Sasami and Ryo-Ohki." She turned to Nobuyuki, "Mr. Masaki... would you please stay behind and assist Detective Mihoshi?"

Nobuyuki nodded. Mihoshi snapped to attention and took the weapon; she moved back towards the door to the room Sasami and Ayeka shared. Kiyone reached the top of the stairs.

"Wait!" Nobuyuki said, his hand on Kiyone's shoulder. The teal-haired detective turned around to look at the middle-aged architect who had been so much of a friend to her and Mihoshi over the past several months. Kiyone stepped forward, still formal as ever despite her dishevelled appearance; her eyes still haunted. Nobuyuki said nothing, knowing there really was nothing he could say or do in this situation.

Kiyone put her hand on his shoulder. "I'll be all right," she smiled a little, a bit of the usual confident gleam in her eye, along with a renewed determination. Nobuyuki looked back to Mihoshi guarding Sasami and Ayeka's door, and the blonde also gave Nobuyuki one of her smiles, the ones that seemed able to banish darkness for a mile around.

Nobuyuki smiled. He couldn't help himself whenever he was around these two women. He released Kiyone's shoulder, and the detective turned back around and went down the stairs.

The widower sniffled back a tear as he began thinking about the latest task set before him, and where he put his baseball bat from high school.

000

The family was assembled in the living room. Washu was frantically typing on her holo-top, several screens popping into existence in the air above the heads of the group, which included Tenchi, Yosho, Kiyone, Ryoko and Ayeka. They were looking up at some of the new screens with rapt attention. Sasami was asleep upstairs with Ryo-ohki.

"There," Washu pointed to a surveillance sensor screen. The scene was down the mountain from the shrine, about a kilometre from the house in the middle of the woods. Three vaguely human shapes were slowly shuffling through the underbrush of the forest.

"All right, we know where they are," Ryoko said in a low voice, everyone having to strain to hear her. She cracked her knuckles, "Let's go get 'em."

Washu raised her hand up in a halting gesture. "Wait, Ryoko."

Ryoko regarded her mother soberly for a moment. A light rain could be heard falling outside, and everyone was noticeably tired under the lights of the living room. "What?" the cyan-haired space pirate asked annoyed.

Washu clacked away for a quarter of a second. "We still have no idea what these things are, really, or how to kill them for that matter. I advise caution," she threw her daughter a stern, but nonetheless concerned look.

Ryoko shrugged, quite frankly not caring. "Fine, we'll be careful. They're just dead people, right?"

No one answered for a moment. "How do we kill dead people?" Kiyone asked, wryly.

Ryoko groaned, started towards the front door. "I'll be out front when all of you decide to get off your asses and join me," she threw over her shoulder before she phased out.

"Hey, Ryoko!" Tenchi ran out after her. Ayeka watched him leave, turned back to Washu, who seemed to be doing everything she could to avoid a melt down. It wasn't pretty with the veins showing on her forehead.

"Little Washu," Ayeka began, "I believe Azaka and Kamidake should stay where they are, generating a type 3 energy shield. I'll join Lord Tenchi and Ms. Ryoko along with Kiyone," she got a confirming look from the GP.

Kiyone looked to Yosho, "Nobuyuki and Mihoshi are upstairs guarding Sasami's room. She's still asleep."

"Good," Yosho glanced at some of Washu's holo-displays, coming to a decision. "I'll guard Funaho-tree."

"Good idea, Yosho," Washu nodded, exhaustion evident in the set of her shoulders and the over-vigorous nod. Yosho left the room with a worried glance at the red-haired child scientist. He stopped in front of Ayeka. "Ayeka, keep an eye on Ryoko and Tenchi." He looked up over to Kiyone, "Same goes for you as well."

The teal-haired detective nodded. Yosho frowned, taking one last look around the living room. He sighed, "No use waiting here. The battle's outside."

000

J. Frank Parnell of Port Townsend, Washington, made a pretty good shelter, he thought. He lived in the woods one mile from the road, and all around his three-story brick and mortar house, he had one hundred yards in a downward slope to the forest. Simply, he felt, with all the provisions he had and the genuinely impressive military surplus weapons cache he had in his basement, he was simply going to ride out The Great Panic of 1995. All he had to do was sit on the roof with the flamethrower and incinerate anything that came in range of his house. The plan worked fine until several scorched zombies were able to inadvertently set fire to his house. Parnell spent the last hour of his life trying in vain to save his house before he died of smoke inhalation.

000

Georges Delacroix of Vichy, France, saw his fortunes rise and then fall in the space of less than one day. Georges worked on a vineyard. Georges was a drunk. Georges was passed out in the stables when zombies did away with everyone else. When Georges finally woke up, no one was around. He gleefully began robbing everyone's personal belongings. The zombies of his bosses devoured Georges as he was trying to lug a floor rug full of silverware into his bosses' car.

000

Billy Parsons of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, was very distraught when his family was bitten by zombies, fell ill, and subsequently died. He was even more distraught when he went down into the basement one day where he had lugged the bodies the day before, unsure what to do with them since the authorities never came around to his house, and the family didn't have cable. While getting a soda out of the meat freezer, he found the bodies moving slightly. Thinking fast, Billy ascertained that his family was NOT coming back from the dead in any nice way... Namely, his mother almost biting his fingers off proved that. Thinking even faster, Billy was able to put the chains that his father kept in the basement to good use. His entire family, now zombies, were now chained to the basement floor. For the moment, Billy was safe.

000

Jorge Marco of Seville, Spain, outran an entire village of zombies on a moped. He eventually made it to the relative safety of Portugal.

000

Kailimdar Orvemarzyc of planet Alpha tore down an entire column of zombies in the streets of the capital city. 1,963 zombies in three hours of constant, truly amazing effort for a man less than one meter in height. That performance rivalled that of the mytho-historical figure Cyraqs.

000

Misao Amano of Tokyo, Japan, arrived home to find that her mother had left her take-out along with a note saying she'd be at work late... again. Misao set down her school satchel and removed her shoes as she made her way into the house, into the kitchen, and sat down at the table after turning on the small TV on the counter.

Misao silently picked at the ramen and idly sipped at the soda in front of her, her mind slowly churning at the day's events. Yes, she had cried again during PE because of how weak she felt, trying to keep up with the other girls... The school nurse had let her take a nap, and she took some aspirin but Misao knew there was no point in calling her mother if she wanted to go home.

"Oh, Misao honey," her mother would say, "I'm simply too busy at the office."

Besides, Misao felt as good as she possibly could feel after the short nap and painkiller. That's how her day went, the same as practically any other day since her father's, Shigoki Amano, disappearance. Misao wondered if part of the reason her mother worked so much was to pay people to locate him. She shook her head as she finished her lunch, her mind slowly settling on two topics that were beginning to press on her mind. One, her dreams were becoming even more enigmatic and, in some cases, disturbing than usual. Two, Misao noticed that about thirty percent of her classmates were absent. As Misao turned her attention to the TV set, she didn't feel all that confident about attendance improving tomorrow.

First, her dreams seem to be more or less coalescing around a forest... yes, a forest in the mountains of one of the more rural parts of Japan. So... green... so much different from any of the parks in or around Tokyo. It seemed this dream would last for the entire night with her just standing somewhere in the part of the forest where it began to clear, overlooking a meadow beyond. Misao liked this place, this place of life and... humming? Yes, she had distinctly heard humming, quiet and meandering in the dream last night. Where was it coming from? Yes, there was a house sitting by a lake. Misao would walk towards this house, and there on the front porch she would find a girl her age with the most curious hair, singing quietly in the afternoon breeze. 'This is a good place to be,' Misao remembered thinking during the dream. This was usually when she would wake up, or find herself in another dream, only not nearly so pleasant...

It was like being on the inside of a typhoon that seemed to have come up to kill a sunny afternoon and banish the notion of daylight forever in a world of thunder, lightning, and wind. Misao could fly in this dream, and she could see what could be called a type of light close by just below her and out of the storm. But... somehow, she knew that heading towards this light would mean the end of her as she knew it. The light didn't look like any sort of light she could remember. In fact, it seemed to almost bend and absorb all things around it... or in it. Frightened, Misao would fly in the opposite direction, but things would get darker, clouds seeming to form around her. The wind would become unbearable... and that's where she woke up from her nap in the Nurse's office.

Misao sighed, sipping more of her ramen as she gradually tuned in to her mind what the TV news people were yammering about.

It seemed some type of epidemic was effecting some rural towns in the Hakkaido region. An epidemic scientists suspected was caused by a biting insect, or maybe even a bat. The symptoms were roughly akin to old reported symptoms of rabies and other diseases that resulted in madness, or a vague trance-like state. Misao shook her head. She had read about rabies in one of her textbooks, an awful, awful disease.

Misao was about to turn the channel since Sailor Moon was coming on anyway when she heard the front door unlock and the telltale sounds of her mother coming in the door. Misao's mother, Kotoe, walked in carrying her usual briefcase that she set down in the foyer.

"Misao!" She called out, "I'm home early!" She seemed happy.

"In the kitchen, Mom," Misao called out.

Kotoe Amano strode into the kitchen, took a sobering look at the TV, and looked back at her daughter, throwing on a smile. "Well, how was school today?"

"Oh... the usual," Misao looked down, her green eyes suddenly finding a comfortable place to focus on the tile floor.

Kotoe nodded. She quickly prepared her own cup of ramen and sat down at the table with a file folder full of reports, also listening to the TV. Kotoe Amano, in the two years since her husband's disappearance, had seemed to age close to ten. Her black hair was beginning to show flecks of grey, and a line or two could be seen around the green eyes she had given her daughter. The features that Misao inherited from her father were her facial features mainly, and his sickly nature. Misao had been in the hospital over a dozen times in her ten-year life for anemia.

"Mom... what's going on?" Misao asked.

Kotoe sighed, raising her eyes up to the TV on the counter. "I don't know, Misao. My boss was planning a lot of overtime to get this big project done... but practically everyone in the office didn't show up for one reason or another. Then, the client calls up and says, basically, forget it. So," she turned to face Misao, a smile on her face, "here I am."

Misao smiled a bit in return. "I made a new friend."

Kotoe cocked an eyebrow, "Real or imaginary?"

"... Imaginary."

000

Tenchi cursed himself for not throwing on a raincoat before venturing out after Ryoko. While the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, the ground was pretty well saturated, creating a fine sloshing sound as he ran steadily towards the shrine steps. Ryoko was flying some one hundred feet ahead of him, hovering at about ten feet off the ground. Already she was in her form-fitting red and black battlesuit. She was peering at the night around her, her eyes seeing considerably more than those of others.

"Ryoko! Wait up!" Tenchi hollered.

Ryoko only yelled back, "I can see them, Tenchi!"

"Just wait, Ryoko!" Tenchi screamed.

Ryoko did wait, slowly lowering herself to the steps just above Tenchi. She spoke without turning, "Tenchi, just stay behind me, okay?"

Tenchi stopped, "No, we wait for everyone else first."

Ryoko scowled, "What? And, let those things walk around out there?" She turned to Tenchi, "I told you before. We can handle it, you and me together."

Tenchi sighed. "Rushing headlong into a battle isn't good tactics, Ryoko--"

"Spending too much time with your grandfather, Tenchi," Ryoko snorted, but made no effort to move. She waited, surveying their surroundings slowly. It was not long before Ayeka ran up the stairs to meet them, also in her battle gear. The azure ancestral face-paint of the house of Jurai making the shadows seem deeper on the elder princess' face. In the night gloom, Ryoko could make out Kiyone following some distance behind; taking the time to get a flashlight.

When all four were assembled about a quarter of the way up the steps, Ryoko tapped one of her earrings. "Washu, you read me?"

A crackle of static caused by the dimensional interference of the radiation. "I read you, Ryoko. I've got three targets one kilometre distance to the immediate northwest," a pop of static, "--gest you four stay on the lookout -- don't know if my scanners are seeing --thing."

Ryoko nodded, "Gotcha, Washu. You watch as close as you can."

"Affirmative. Be careful, Little Ryoko," Washu's smile could be heard over the garbled communication.

Ryoko scowled again, "Wish she'd stop calling me that..."

"Let's proceed," Kiyone stated, drawing her blaster from her holster, the flashlight attached to the barrel.

Tenchi nodded, noticing Ayeka taking a position next to Ryoko. The cyan-haired woman turned to her rival. "Ayeka, hang back a bit."

Ayeka shook her head, "No, Ryoko... I want to share the risk."

Everyone spared a moment to let the two friends hash this out. Ryoko wasn't standing for it, "I'm the better warrior, Ayeka. Don't be stupid."

The violet-tressed Princess seemed equally as adamant, "And, you're not up to your usual standards, Ryoko."

"Wow, you sure know how to give a good pep talk before a battle, Princess," scowled Ryoko for a third time, her fist clenching at her sides.

"Ryoko..." Tenchi broke in gently, "Ayeka doesn't mean it that way."

Ryoko sighed, looking ahead at the stone stairs going up the forested mountain. A flash of distant lighting briefly illuminated the columns and the shrine roof in the distance. "We're wasting time." Ryoko shot Ayeka a look, "Alright, you and I have point. Satisfied?"

Ayeka nodded in the affirmative, discussion over. Ryoko and Ayeka looked back at Tenchi, his face a bit perturbed in the night drizzle. "I think I'll take the lead," he stated with a fair amount of certainty. "You two cover me."

Both Ayeka and Ryoko were about to protest when a curt look from Kiyone in the night gloom told them to just shut up and deal with it. The two rivals nodded at the object of their affections when Tenchi stepped forward, taking point with Ryoko and Ayeka walking side-by-side right behind him; Kiyone took the rear.

The group of four ascended the staircase of ancient stone slowly and without incident. At the top of the stairs, they proceeded past the shrine temple towards one of the many paths branching off into the forest. Kiyone activated her wrist scanner and pointed down one of the paths; they took the path. The drizzle was starting to die off, and a slight wind was starting to rustle the trees. The entire group was still pretty thoroughly soaked. Lines of lighter clouds in the sky promised the moon would be peeking out soon.

It wasn't long before Ryoko used a hand signal to indicate that Washu through their telepathic link said that their target was dead ahead. Everyone got into a battle-stance: Tenchi activating Tenchi-ken, Ayeka balling her fists and focusing her Jurai power, and Kiyone releasing the safety from her pistol and adjusting her stance, ready to aim at even a cricket if need be. Ryoko simply stood still, fists clenched at her waist and eyes fixed in a glare of amber fire at the forest around them.

They heard their targets before they saw them. A rustle was heard off the path to Ayeka's left. "Who's there!" Ryoko shouted, her voice piercing the night. Everyone immediately turned around to face where Ryoko's demand was aimed and to provide the cyan-haired space pirate a clear line of fire.

No answer.

Ryoko shrugged, "Fine, be that way."

She extended her arm, letting the power flow from her gem into her palm where a red energy ball formed, albeit a bit sluggishly and not quite as powerful as normal. In the split second before Ryoko fired, she calculated that the target would immediately run or hit the deck from the outline in the underbrush. Thus, she timed and aimed two of her energy blasts for the spots where the target should be, not for the place it was. The target didn't move as Ryoko expected it would, and her shots missed it, exploding into a tree trunk and the ground.

Tenchi watched in amazement as the tree started to burn slightly, and the figure continued to lurch forward. Yes, the figure was humanoid... but it was the figure of an ordinary person... dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt advertising exercise equipment. Tenchi gaped, hesitating for exactly three-quarters of a second before he charged into the undergrowth of the forest after it, Tenchi-ken held high above his head.

He made the same mistake Ryoko made before, thinking the zombie would move in defence or offence of his attack and correcting his blows accordingly. Tenchi slashed down the target's shirt with such precision a tailor would have been envious, but the boy landed right next to the singed tree, scraping his brown and black cold-weather work clothes and slightly burning himself in the process. Tenchi sprang back from the stationary zombie, the figure thankfully featureless by the nightime gloom and the foliage. He landed back on the path just in time to see Ayeka take careful aim and fire.

The elder Jurain Princess noted Ryoko and Tenchi's lack of success and corrected her aim. Ayeka's energy blasts impacted into their intended target, and the left arm of the zombie was blown to a dark mess of blood, skin, muscle, and bone fragments in the night. Ayeka sighed, satisfied that the being would be done for. It surely would surrender, beg for mercy, or at least howl in pain and run off to die somewhere. Kiyone kept her weapon trained on the gloomy figure in the forest.

The figure did nothing, only continued slowly lurching forward with the shirt slowly flapping open in the light wind, the remaining arm outstretched. A faint sound could be heard now coming from the zombie. It was a moaning: a long, droning, lifeless moan.

"... The fuck?" Ryoko asked, astonished.

Kiyone opened fire, aiming for the chest area. The shots connected, and the zombie seemed to be dancing as it continued to stumble forward onto the path. Ayeka and Tenchi quickly getting out of the way beforehand. The zombie's front was totally covered in blood, and blood continued to spray out from the stump of its destroyed arm. It continued to advance on Ryoko.

"Go..." Ryoko let her sword-arm swing her red light-blade back, aiming it just right, "TO HELL!" she screamed as she impaled the zombie through the sternum, the body sliding forward on her blade. Ryoko glared right into the unseeing and yet seeing eyes in the darkness; sneering. Ayeka and Tenchi gazed at her fearfully, not seeing this rage since Kagato. Ryoko swung the blade back again, and with both hands using the red blade as a sort of pitchfork, threw the zombie some one hundred yards up the path landing with a bone-crushing thud.

Ryoko breathed deeply, her eyes fixed on the figure of the zombie. Ahead of her, blood was visible on the wet grass, a dark path to where the body lay. Ryoko didn't say a word, just watched where the broken corpse was lying. She slowly reached up and touched her earring again. "Washu, you seeing this?"

Another crack and pop of dimensional static, "--arely. Good work Ryoko," Washu seemed occupied.

"How many more?" Ayeka asked.

There were a few more pops and hisses of static, the sound of Washu starting to say something, and then silence.

Ryoko's eyes widened as the zombie lying in the middle of the path was beginning to stir again.

000

Warren Hudson awoke to find the dingy fleabag motel room around him the same as when he had gone to sleep. He immediately felt hunger assault him, giving him enough energy to throw back the staid motel covers and amble over to the chair where one of his duffle bags rested. Inside, Warren had in a bottle six raw eggs. He drank them down without thinking. Finding himself with more energy, Warren peered toward the window with its curtains drawn. It was early evening on October 17th. No zombies he could see as he peered out from behind the curtains. Warren would later learn that the military and the National Guard in the Columbus area had had some success dealing with the zombies. For the moment, at least, Warren was safe.

Warren groggily managed to get himself into the bathroom where he relieved himself and turned on the shower, thanking Tsunami there was still running water, hot water at that. He smiled, ducking under the spray. For about an hour, Warren showered, shaved, and washed away the last week. He didn't think about much, just enough of him was awake to tend to his body's needs. By the time his shower was finished, enough of his consciousness was back so that another need was coming to the forefront of his awareness.

After he made an offering of his seed as per his Goddess' orders and prayed, Warren decided that he had spent enough time here, and it was time to plan his next move. He opened his duffle bag, dragged out some crumpled roadmaps, and took a look at the road system. Warren also turned on the TV, getting static. He made a decision and hoped it would be the right one. The decision was based on a dream he had just had where he was crossing the Michigan border on a mission of great importance. Warren thought this was what Tsunami must have meant, that it was important for him to be in this area at this particular time. He grinned a little to himself, remembering when Tsunami had written her name for him in kanji, "Lady of Mystery" in Japanese.

"Certainly got that right," he commented dryly, getting up off the lumpy bed and looking again out the window. Still no zombies seen.

Warren began to feel that he should get out of there now while he still had the chance. He quickly gathered up his belongings, pathetically few they were, leaving his shooting barricade there. There is no time to take it down, and someone might need it later. After dressing for the weather and drawing his pistol, he threw open the door to the room, jumped out, and took a quick survey of the area. Clear, so it seemed.

Warren broke into a sprint down to the stairs at the end of the hallway, descending the stairs, to the front office. It was empty. Warren shrugged, caught between taking an opportunity to save money and stealing. On one hand, he didn't have much money at all, and he might need it. On the other hand, stealing was wrong.

Warren opted for a knight's honesty and left what he thought the bill would have come out to on the counter with a note thanking the motel owner for his hospitality. For a fleabag joint, it really wasn't all that bad. Besides, Warren suspected that in a short time, the new currency in the United States, at least, would be barter, ammunition, or precious metals.

As he drove on a now mostly deserted four-lane highway, noting five abandoned vehicles on his side of the road and only two heading in the opposite direction, Warren thought back on his rest. While refreshing, it still paled in comparison to what his body remembered still after fifty years. This was the spirit's rest he had experienced in the ship of Jurai. Warren smiled, remembering as he drove north, heading towards the Michigan-Ohio border. He would go north for now. There was business for him there, for good or ill.

000

August 12th, 1945.

He was being guided. For a moment, all of Warren's awareness was only rays of light rolling off into infinity. Warren wasn't even sure if he was, let along where he was. It was a while before he realized that he still had hands, and one of his hands was being guided. The rays of light were now more correctly resolved into light shining down through water. Warren looked up ahead. He was moving up towards something, guided by his hand. The next thing that he became aware of was that he could see just as well in the water as it could anywhere else... odd.

Warren tried to see more of who or what was guiding him. He could only make out that it was a female, with long hair that floated about her. She also made him feel at ease. He could also make out that he was doing more than moving up; he...he was ascending! It felt that all of his griefs, worries, and pains had been left behind... back there. This was when Warren blacked out again. If Warren had had more of his marbles, he would have realized that he was still severely injured... but there was no pain.

For a long... long time more, there was only blackness again.

When he came to, he was no longer moving. In fact, even though now he felt so much better, he was totally immobilized. He was also naked, but he barely took note of this fact at first. His eyes were open, but his vision was only slowly coming back to him. Two figures were standing in front of him, conversing with each other. Warren also felt that for the first time in over three years his appearance was no longer that of an emaciated, gaunt, haggard American prisoner of war.

"Goddess... he looks so much better than when you sent me to guide him here," the figure on the left said.

"Yes... it was a trial for me, and his body and soul were badly wounded," the figure on the right sighed sadly as she stepped forward to where Warren was bound. The smells of fresh water, plant growth, and life filled his nostrils. "Yet... his recovery is far from over."

The figure on the left regarded him and the figure on the right for a moment. "He is awake, listening to us, Goddess."

"So he is," the figure on the right said with a touch of humor; louder: "Warren, can you hear me?"

Warren tried to make vocal sounds, but couldn't. Only air and some cracks came out before he coughed. He tried to cover his mouth, but again his arms were bound... Actually, he was set inside a tree from the feel of it.

His eyes were now focused enough so that he can make out that both figures were female... but he could still only make out the facial characteristics of the woman closest to his face. The female on the right had the most unusual hair. Was her hair... blue? Yes, a type of aquamarine blue from what he could see, blurry as it was.

She smiled serenely, the smile familiar and yet unfamiliar to Warren. "It's all right... just relax."

Warren gazed at her, trying hard to focus. There were two small green dots on her forehead. He was confronted all at once with some of his memories. He was dead, wasn't he? He was shot in the head, and he died? Then, where was he? Wasn't there supposed to be nothing just like he had believed since he was a boy?

"... where? ... who?" Warren croaked, his throat dry and tingling, coughing for a bit again.

The woman with the blue hair smiled, "You are on the ship of Jurai, Warren Hudson. Inside myself."

"Am... am I dead?" Warren finally managed to use his vocal cords.

The blue haired woman hesitated for a moment, then, "No, you aren't. We've brought you back."

"I... am I damned?" A flash of irrational fear seemed to overtake Warren then as he squirmed in the tree's bindings.

"No!" the other female, standing further away interjected. "You would never be damned."

"But... but I don't... This can't be happening!" Warren cried, "There's no God..."

"Yes!" the other female said, pointing elegantly towards the blue-haired woman. "There she stands! Your creator!"

The blue haired woman blushed faintly, using one hand to gently wave the other woman silent. Clearly, the one with the two green dots on her forehead was in charge. "This is one of my angels, Aria" she smiled, "Funaho's inhabitant... and your guide to this place."

Warren nodded at both of them, his heart and mind still racing. "I'm Warr... Wait -- how do you know my name?"

Tsunami's face quirked into a small smile.

"I am your creator, Warren, and I've known about you for a long time. I was there when you were born," the blue haired woman smiled a bit more. "Yes, I remember your mother... Her spirit is on the branches of my Tree now, rest assured. Evelyn Hudson is her name. Your father's name is George Hudson... I remember his sorrow. He is with me now, too. They are both so proud of their son."

Warren let tears fall from his eyes freely. The blue-haired woman drew forward and embraced him, her chest meeting his. Warren involuntarily flinched in response; unused to any sort of affectionate contact. But almost immediately, Warren felt a relaxing warmth spread somehow from Tsunami to him. The other female took this opportunity to disappear somewhere. His vision had recovered enough so that he could make out details of the blue-haired woman's clothing. She appeared to wear something vaguely patterned after a kimono.

"What... what is your name?" He felt a compulsion to stare into her pink eyes.

"I am Tsunami." She spoke, and smiled.

"Where am I?" Warren's tears seemed forgotten.

"Inside myself," she stated calmly, answering his question for the second time.

"Why am I here?" Warren asked.

Tsunami gave him a knowing look. "You have labored long and hard, Warren Hudson. You have been wronged, your heart wounded, and yet you did not let darkness consume you."

Warren gave her a slight look of undisguised disbelief. What good had he done? He wasn't even a very good Marine. He was scarcely a month into his tour of duty before he got captured. Tsunami picked up on this. "Who was it that saved Thomas McLaren, Warren?"

Warren remembered McLaren, who he had been shot in the knee and stomach and couldn't move. Warren recalled that he had carried him back to the medics. Warren never knew what had become of McLaren. "He... he lived?"

"Yes, Warren, he still lives," Tsunami's smile seemed able to bring light into even the darkest places.

"There were others you helped, too," Tsunami said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, his first kiss by anyone. "You've done a lot of good, Earth son."

Warren fell silent. Tsunami could feel his mind trying to handle this information, but there were gaps. It was like swimming in a lake with warm and cold spots in the water. He shivered as if things that were so certain to him before now seemed to become fluid and slip through his fingers.

Tears began at the corners of Warren's eyes again. He knew he should remember what exactly was happening, but he didn't. It was lost to him. He felt he was losing his mind, even when he was being brought back. "I... I don't know... I don't remember..."

Tsunami nodded. "It will pass, Warren. You've got a ways to go on your recovery. These are but the first steps."

"Steps?" he whispered.

Tsunami smiled, letting her fingers run through his chest hair just a bit. "Yes, you'll be here for a while."

"Oh..."

Tsunami, knowing he was still afraid, drew close to him again. All the while, the Goddess was examining Warren's mind, deciding what damage there was, what could be repaired, or if Warren was just merely still in a state of shock. Warren's uncertainty of his predicament only confirmed for Tsunami that she would have to revive some of his instincts that were damaged by the bullet that tore through his brain. But, there was something else as she looked back on Warren's life up to this point.

"Warren..." Tsunami began, gentle as silk and twice as sensual, "you've never really masturbated before."

"Wha--?" Warren's eyes seemed about to bug out of his skull, and he blushed seven more shades of red.

Tsunami nodded. "I'm so sorry... You've been so unfortunate in your life. You had no reason to believe that there was someone caring for your soul, and you were ashamed of your desires."

Warren nodded this time, shaking slightly, remembering some of it. In particular, he remembered the several times his Uncle had found some of the stains on his bed clothes after those dreams involving one of the girls in his class. All those days, he woke up finding his pajama bottoms were sticking to him. He remembered his Uncle's punishments. Idly, Warren wondered if the bruises and scars on his back would ever disappear. No one ever took the time to even tell Warren just what basic human biology was about. Nebraska in the late 1930s wasn't exactly that progressive in its school system, and even if they were, Warren was frequently not in school but hauling horse shit from side of his Uncle's farm to the other. Even observing the animals on the farm was useless as they were almost all castrated.

Warren was able to get into the Marines in 1940 with the help of a sympathetic recruiter. The man recognized the desperate young man's strong back and willingness to get away from his asshole of an Uncle. Other military camps allowed small trailer park vice districts to spring up around them, but the commandant where Warren underwent basic training was probably the most prudish in all the US military. Conversations of sex among the soldiers were never very detailed and while Warren was able to pick up some basic facts, he never knew he was missing out on so much. In fact, it could be said that Warren was in a group of the dullest recruits. From basic, it was straight to Pearl Harbor and more training. While he was there, Warren wasn't chosen for a date because of his shyness and his lack of the type of charm women of his culture looked for. Another thing was his loyalty and commitment to an order; while admirable, this made him a popular gopher and ate up most of his time.

As a result, Warren's ideas about sex were underdeveloped and, in his mind, associated with shame. Tsunami frowned, knowing that this must not be allowed to persist much longer. Everyone had the right to, at the very least, sexual satisfaction with themselves. Warren had become a man who, though tattered, contained a shining soul. Tsunami noted, with some sense of irony, that while this man had done more good in a simple twenty-one years than what most men could potentially do in thousands... he had never really never taken himself in hand, in any sense of the phrase.

Tsunami drew herself in close, her forehead touching his. "Sleep for now, Warren; we can discuss everything when you're rested."

Warren felt himself drifting back to sleep as he enjoyed Tsunami's touch, his eyes drooped and the fatigue beginning to claim him once again. It was different from the many times he'd slept before. The approaching slumber felt healing rather than his body simply giving out. The healing consumed every fiber of his being.

Tsunami smiled sadly as the man in front of her slept, his respiration a normal rate. Soon, he was in REM sleep. The Goddess of Light sighed; she had work to do, yes. This was a special case, this Warren Hudson. Tsunami made sure he would have no nightmares, only peaceful dreams of cool grasses and the scent of growing things. He would also be able to move around in these dreams, for he would not be leaving the healing confines of the tree for a long time.

Aria, in her usual quietness, appeared and knelt respectfully beside Tsunami: her violet hair framing her face and slightly obscuring the look in her eyes; her arms folded neatly across the white robes she wore.

"Thoughts, Aria?" the Goddess asked.

"He is a fragile one, Goddess," Aria whispered. "Will he be all right?"

Tsunami thought for a moment, then nodded in the affirmative. "Yes... in time."

Aria gave Tsunami a guarded look, "May I ask what you are intending with him, Tsunami?"

Tsunami sighed, saying nothing for a moment. "You'll know when I know, Aria. Nothing is certain yet."

Aria's gaze lingered for a moment on Warren's flaccid penis as he slept. Tsunami's was fixed on Warren's face, concentrating on her next labor. Aria spoke, "He'll need release before too long."

"Yes," Tsunami said, "but he needs healing and to be in a calmer state of mind first." She turned to Aria, "Return to Funaho's branches. There are wishes to grant." A touch of humor was evident in Tsunami's voice.

Aria silently bowed, phasing out again. Tsunami returned her eyes to Warren, a light-blue halo appearing around her and slowly spreading out to envelop Warren's body in its light. The halo spread outward and grew brighter, becoming a corona. If anyone was watching, they would have seen the form of the Goddess glow white and fade into several spiralling strands of energy. The strands of energy surrounded Warren, his body now completely lost in the blinding light.

000

TO BE CONTINUED...