Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.

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So, it's my turn to write now, right? I've never done any serious writing before.

Just do your best, and don't worry about mistakes while you're writing. We'll go over everything together before I post it.

I'm not sure where to start. Do I introduce myself, or jump right into explaining what happened, or...?

Just do what you feel works best. You don't even have to write it all in order if you feel like hopping around.

Like the beginning of Fourteen Times in Perim, right? Maybe I can try something like that.

Ah, jumping back and forth too much might be a little tiresome for the readers.

Not for my whole part. A chapter in the present, a chapter in the past, and then the rest in the present.

I thought you wanted to explain what was happening to you during those first two weeks?

That's what I meant. I'm ready to start now.

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Act II: Atrapol

Remember

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I am Atrapol, Captain of the Gothos Phalanx, Patriarch of the Red Hand. I am from Blackstone Desert, a wasteland in the OverWorld covered in obsidian spires, scorched forests, and charcoal-buried plains, but I am an UnderWorlder, through and through.

Unless something miraculous has occurred, you, the reader, are a Human. I am not. Please, keep that fact in mind as I tell you my story. I do not ask you to withhold judgment for my actions, simply to understand that you and I are very different sorts of creatures, from very, very different worlds.

Soon I will tell you how I came to be what I am. Now, however, let me take you back to the beginning of this "Another Time" that Michael has told you his side of.

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The first moment of a new lifetime is always a shock. In one moment, I am simply myself, as I have always been for my long hundreds of solans. Ready to take orders, to crush all that stand in the way of my master, Lord Van Bloot of Gothos Tower. In the next, everything changes.

Now, I am every version of myself that has ever lived. I remember Van Bloot's betrayal of me and my brothers, giving us to the M'arrillians to be twisted into mindless, obedient pawns. I remember fighting that last battle against a Human clad in armor and wreathed in flame. I remember my brothers falling, I remember dying. I remember all that life and the next. And the next. And the next.

"Atrapol? Are you ill?"

At my side, in armor similar to my own, is Jaquez, or Jakjak as we call him in jest, more often than not. One of my brothers in the Red Hand.

He does not remember. He does not know.

"I am fine," I say as I wave Jakjak's hand from my shoulder. "Just a spell of dizziness." I lift my helmet and rub my eyes against the crook of my elbow. Jakjak nods and continues on his way.

"You work too hard," says another voice from nearby.

Another of my brothers in the Red Hand, Galmedar. He sits on a stone bench with two others near a roaring bonfire. His body is nude, the firelight faint against his dark skin. The other two are also naked. Eade, shorter, leaner, and younger. Danidavid, taller, larger, and much, much older. Danidavid's chin is on his chest, and he breathes softly, his piercings glinting in the firelight. Eade's head lies on Danidavid's lap. Both are asleep.

They do not remember. They do not know.

Galmedar pats the seat next to him, opposite Danidavid and Eade on his other side. "Come, Patriarch. Relax a while." He grins and displays a mouth full of slightly yellowed tusks and teeth.

The urge to hurry away is incredible. Humans have appeared all over Perim right now. Densely populated cities will discover them first, while places out of the way, like Gothos Tower, have some time before the chaos starts. I grit my teeth and push my haste aside, though. One thing must be done, first. I need to act the part, just in case.

"As long as you promise not to speak of my weakness to Van Bloot," I say as I sit down.

"Not a word," Galmedar swears softly into my ear as he slides a hand under my breastplate.

Every life starts the same. Jakjak and I pass each other next to the fire. Danidavid and Eade are asleep. Galmedar invites me to sit with him. When I accept, he begins to lavish me with his attentions.

I close my eyes and lean my head away from Galmedar's breath, and he presses his thin lips against my neck. His hand caresses the muscles of my chest and squeezes my nipples, then drags down my stomach in a pleasurable way, all the while licking and sucking at my throat.

My heart isn't in it, but I act as I had before, a moan on my tongue and a rumble in my chest. Many lifetimes before, when I was ignorant and life was simple, I simply sat and enjoyed Galmedar's service, his love, but knowing what I know now, the quickening beat of my heart is not in arousal, but fear. Fear for his life, and for the lives of the rest of my brothers.

Galmedar's hand grasps the scapular cloth hanging from the bottom of my breastplate and tears it away, tossing it somewhere beyond the fire. "Already standing at attention," he teases as he slides off the bench and kneels down, pushing my legs apart with his hands.

"Ready for inspection," is my rehearsed reply.

Galmedar grins cockily at my face once more before he leans down and swallows me, forehead burying into my stomach. I grunt and grab at the edge of the bench. His mouth and hands do not quell my fears, but they provide ample distraction, a reprieve until the chaos ahead collides with our lives.

I stroke my brother's cheek and mutter, "Gods, I love you, dear brother." The actions and words are again rehearsed, but they were true when I first uttered them, and they remain true today.

A pause in the action, cool air on my wet skin as Galmedar raises his head. "And I you, my Patriarch."

Galmedar's smile is warm and pure. My heart seizes up, and I desire nothing more right now than to look at that glowing face of his for hours. If I mess up, if I let them down, then the faces of my brothers, of my Red Hand, the men I love with all my heart, will one day be stripped blank of thought and emotion, cogs in a vile, world-devouring machine.

I must still play my part. "Who said you could stop?" I say as I'd said in the past.

Galmedar's laugh is interrupted as I take a hold on the back of his head and push him back down on me, and he eagerly resumes his attentions. I'm holding my breath, tense and waiting, arms moving on their own to guide my brother's pace. In seconds I will know what path this life will take.

In the best world, nothing stops us, and I roar and howl as I deliver to Galmedar the prize he's seeking. We laugh, we kiss, we join our flesh again, and then I leave to do what I must, while the rest of the night passes before the chaos hits their doorstep.

In the worst world, though...

"Attention, Phalanx!"

Danidavid and Eade jolt awake at the horrid screech, and Galmedar chokes and pulls away, violently coughing up my anticipations and his own saliva. All of us scramble to our feet and stand straight, side by side. No attempt to dress or cover up our nakedness is made. When Lord Van Bloot calls, we are to answer, immediately.

And call Lord Van Bloot did. The green-skinned, blue-winged harpy approaches, barefoot, dressed in naught but a skirt of furs. His orange hair is not up in its usual tress, instead spread wildly around his face and caught in his pointed ears. His eyes, both the natural left and the prosthetic right, glare at the four of us, and his lipless mouth grinds its sharp teeth together. The muscles of his limbs and torso are tight and twitching, as if he were holding back the urge the lash out at something.

The faces of my brothers are stony and silent, but the confusion in their eyes is obvious to me. Van Bloot had turned in for the night only recently. The night was to be spent doing whatever we desired.

Van Bloot passes Eade, Danidavid, and Galmedar, giving each of them a cursory glance up and down. Then he pauses in front of me, and I can see the subtle narrowing of his eyes as he stares into my visor. He steps closer to me, still staring at my face, then reaches forward. My body jolts slightly as Van Bloot roughly squeezes my still-hard manhood and drags his grip down my length.

My brothers stare, the confusion now clear to everyone. Van Bloot steps back, still glaring at me, then examines his hand, at the saliva dripping from his fingers. "Whose is this, Atrapol?" he asks sharply.

"Galmedar's, sir," I bark.

Van Bloot looks over to Galmedar. "And why is it there, Galmedar?"

Galmedar's face is stony once again. "Captain Atrapol and I were having sexual intercourse, sir."

Eade lets out a short chirp of a chuckle, quickly silenced when Van Bloot glares his way. The harpy turns back to Galmedar. "Who initiated this?"

"I did, sir," Galmedar barks. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Van Bloot wipes his hand against his fur skirt and sighs, "Granted."

Galmedar thrusts his chin up, and I see his throat clench as he swallows. "Have we done something wrong? You have never given our consorting a second glance before."

Van Bloot grits his teeth and growls, "No, there is no problem. A surprise inspection, that is all this was. You all performed quickly and admirably."

Van Bloot leaves, and my brothers and I relax and sit back down. The warm atmosphere is gone, though. The foul temper still lingers in the air.

So, Lord Van Bloot remembers. He knows. And he suspects me.

"Would, uh, you like to continue?" Galmedar's hand hovers near my groin, and there's an anxious look on his face.

It will be hours before anything I can do will be useful, anyway. I swallow my haste once again. "Eade? Danidavid? If you two would like to join us?"

Eade nods, while Danidavid grunts his assent. Three pairs of powerful hands peel me from my armor, hesitantly at first, then in eagerness. We writhe against each other, caressing, worshiping, and filling each other's bodies passionately. We laugh, we cry, we moan, and we drink deep our love and affection for each other.

I savor every touch, every taste, every sound, each more precious than all the coin in the world.

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I'm in the observation room, to where the many spying eyes and ears in UnderWorld City transmit sight and sound. The air is abuzz with a cacophony of screams, roars, shouting and more. Humans fighting and fleeing, UnderWorlders chasing and killing. Metal and fire and pain and death.

Perched on a seat in front of me is an imp-like figure, large pointed ears twisted forward to listen to all the transmission, large eyes staring at the images projected in a crystal-covered wall. His pointed devil tail swings back and forth absentmindedly. He is collecting, remembering, sorting the data, ready to bring information of importance to Lord Van Bloot.

He does not know I'm here. I reach forward and grab the back of his head, the fingers of my gauntlet wrapping around to his face. His hands reach up and scratch against my grip. I squeeze, and the skull cracks and crumbles under the pressure. Blood and cranial fluids spray the walls and the floor. Some escapes the gaps between my fingers, showering me with pungent red mist and twitching shreds of flesh. The body jerks, spasms, then slumps to the ground, a pool of red gushing from the neck.

I shake the creature's brains and blood from my hand, then kick aside the corpse and stool so I can search the table full of noisy crystals.

"Who is up there?" Rothar's voice, shrouded in static. One of several usually silent gems, the spying ears hidden within Chaor's palace. "No use hiding, I can see where you are!"

It is the only meaningful sound coming from the palace. I pick up the speaking stone and focus on it, blocking the rest of the din from my thoughts. The static is the sound of something scraping against the spying ear, and of labored breathing nearby.

"You have until the count of three, then I am taking you down myself! One!"

There is a cracking sound, then a small whisper of triumph.

"Two!"

There's a wet squishing sound, and the soft sound of breathing becomes a moderate roar. A heavy thumping sounds in the background. A heartbeat.

"Three!"

Another wet sound. A crash, a cry of pain. A loud thump of flesh hitting stone.

"I've got the intruder!"

A distant voice, belonging to someone else. I cannot identify the source. "Disable him! Chaor wants him alive!"

Rothar's voice again. "Understood."

I have heard enough to know that this is the one. I remove my helmet and shove the crystal into a seam, while hissing sounds emit from it.

I slide my helmet back on to hear the speech continue. "Are we to take him to the Pit?" The UnderWorld prison, of course.

"No, Chaor wants him brought to Ulmar."

I pause my advance to the room's exit. This is unexpected. There are no other sounds from Rothar or the other creatures with him, though, merely the sound of a heartbeat, steady breathing, and the sound of cloth being dragged over stone.

Finally, I hear it. Michael's voice. "I'm counting on you, Atrapol." It was so soft that I almost missed it.

"I'm counting on you, too," I respond, even though he cannot hear me.

I leave the observation room and head for the garage. I must hurry. My absence will be noticed quickly. Van Bloot will know that I've turned traitor. It's a twelve-day drive to UnderWorld City while avoiding charted land. There is much to do and not much room for error.

I love you, my brothers. Forgive me for leaving without saying farewell. Though we are now at odds with each other, I cannot wait for the day I can hold you all in my arms once again.

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And that's the first chapter of my history that I've ever written.

You did a good job, Atrapol.

I don't know... Perhaps I should remove the descriptions of our intimate moments...

Are you saying that because you want them to be private, or because you think people won't like it?

Well, it's so beyond what is normal for humans...

Don't erase a single word. After chapters of Chaor's selfish indulgence, of what he did to me? A love like the one you all shared with each other is a breath of fresh, sweet air.

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Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.