'Pressure' from Phantasy Star 2 played in the background.
The office was busy. Fans hummed, computers beeped, workers typed or operated the huge machines that lined the walls or ran from room to room with papers to be photocopied or trolleys full of supplies. It was clean and clinical and the workers wore spotless black suits. Hyd knew that none of them were human, they were either androids or numen, bio-genetic constructs who could be given the rough physical appearance and education of an adult human in a matter of days. This place was machine territory, no place for flesh and blood that might get in the machines and clog them up. It ran in the background of the mortal world, processes never to be seen.
An android designed to look like an oriental man in his mid twenties noticed Hyd's sudden arrival. He went over to her, smiling. He had fairly short black hair, wore a black suit and carried a briefcase.
"Clv Wayward, head of Zoran here. How may I help you today, Administrator Lucent?"
"Have you received any reports of trespassers in this sector, Moderator?" asked Hyd.
"No trespassers reported."
"Any anomalies at all?"
The android stopped and searched his data banks for the relevant information.
"One anomaly reported." he replied, "It was not a trespasser. It was authorised by Game Over Central."
"What was it?"
"The final product of Project Doran was allowed access to a top priority portal to Algol."
Doran! Hyd knew her friend wanted to go to other worlds but she had no idea the little exile had actual access to portals. Did she have real authority or was she a hacker?
"Where did the portal lead?"
"It was a direct portal to Rykros."
"Thank you for your assistance, Moderator Wayward."
"Administrator." the android saluted.
Hyd left via the Rykros portal.
His back to the wall, Dev brought out his knife and brandished it threateningly, looking from one black-robed figure to the next. They regarded him with the same unreadable expression as all Motavians wore.
"Don't worry, we won't harm you." said the leader, "Not unless you want us to. And pay us."
"Who are you people?" asked Dev.
"We're relatively new as an organisation." admitted the leader, "We are Game Over's servants here on Algol. We are... the Voluntary Euthanasia Society of Motavia!"
"Gah..." Dev ran for the door. He was stopped by the leader, who closed it before he could reach it. Their eyes glinted red under their black cowls. They smelled of rust like the dark technique waves. Dev wasn't sure they really respected the 'Voluntary' part.
"No, don't be afraid. We just want to ask a favour of you. Our leader wants to see strangers from another world. He is one of you."
"Really?"
"He is Saint Kevorkian, risen from the dead!" the Motavian's voice wavered with the intensity of his reverence.
"Er..."
"Come with us." he ordered, pulling out what looked like a large scythe and pointing it at Dev. The man was surrounded. Nervously, he followed their leader down the long corridor. They moved swiftly and silently, looking around constantly as though they were afraid of being caught. They were like thieves, assassins. If they wanted to kill me here, they would and the authorities would never find the bodies or care about one missing exile. He walked for what seemed like hours, the tunnel stretching on until he could no longer see the entrance or the exit.
Finally he found himself in an open courtway deep under the ground, ending in many doors and stairways. Unlike most Motavian settlements, it was deliberately and permanently hewn from blue stone. Black tapestries hung on every wall, embroidered with a single white arrow pointing down. It was dark, lit by guttering torches on brackets on the wall. The effect was heightened by an ambient Game Over tune playing in the background and a black cat snoozing on a step. Several grotesque gargoyles leered down at him from the walls. It was as quiet as a church.
"Goth." he said admiringly.
"This is our office. We do not serve customers here." said the leader, "We come to their homes after midnight an we steal away their lives. When the Watch find the bodies, we are gone like ghosts."
"Is that legal?"
"Is anything legal? Look at emulators. Look at MP3s." the leader waved his arms dramatically. "Er... and it's voluntary, right?"
"Perfectly. All of our customers were asking for it."
"Right..."
The leader motioned towards the staircase. They climbed ten floors before stopping at a stone double door with a knocker shaped like a skull. The leader knocked three times. It opened with a theatrical creak.
"Behold... His Holiness, Saint Kevorkian!"
"GICE FALGUE!" roared the huge Motavian, "By the decree of the Ordo Grantz Templars, I will kill you"
The priest jumped back as the warrior leapt from the sand dune, swinging his axe down to land just where Gice had been standing. Although smaller than Gice, the wild-eyed Templar was built like a bear and was as furious and unstoppable as the wind. He wore Laconian plate mail and wielded a Laconian great axe. He regarded his prey with a look of utter hatred.
"It's me! Don't you remember me?" protested Gice, dodging two more axe swings and throwing up a protective technique-barrier to deflect a third before the blow could take his head off.
"I remember you, scum!" he roared, "You tried to do something to my client!"
"I was only talking to her! we're old friends!"
"She said you wanted to return her to eternal exile on a hellish prison planet!" he swung again. This time the priest side-stepped and hit the Templar with his own Laconian mace. He's slower than me, thought the priest, but if he hits me just once, I'm dead. My only hope is that he'll tire out faster than me, swinging such a heavy weapon around.
The blow hit the Motavian squarely on the head. Instead of going down, he let out an owl-like screech and rushed the priest. Gice tried to retreat. He felt rock against his back. Blows rained down upon his technique-shield until it was thin and flickered on and off. He was doomed unless he did something fast. A technique? He knew a technique called Vol but it could kill instantly and the priest would not kill his friends. Besides, if the man was a bonded Grantz, killing him would hurt Doran even more.
"Where's your client?" asked Gice suddenly, pointing. The big Motavian turned around. Doran was wandering off in the opposite direction, staring at the sky and talking to herself in Musk Cat.
"That's a teleport technique! Wait for me!" cried Axx, running off into the desert after his charge.
Sweat ran down the priest's forehead and he sank down into the sand, mentally exhausted. Again, he had failed to get near Doran. At least he wasn't dead at the hands of her bodyguard. Almost... he wished he didn't have to fight his friends.
"Gice, is that you?"
The priest jumped and turned around. Like a banshee rising from the mists, the ageless woman appeared before him in the sand as though she had always been there.