7. New Friends

Kyon exited the bathroom. He'd washed for over an hour, but still didn't feel entirely clean. He looked down, and saw that the morning meal had arrived.

"I gave you a little extra," Maria said apologetically. "Are you all right?"

"As well as could be expected, thanks." His jaw was still a little stiff.

"What he did was... unnecessary."

"Yeah, your gods seem to be big fans of 'unnecessary'," he replied sourly. "How did you end up working here?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

So she told him.

The gods' ascension had not been unchallenged. Those nations distant from the site of Third Impact had only seen a stain on the surface of the Earth, gradually expanding with a horde of twisted once-humans at its forefront. It was no surprise that some resisted. Maria had been seventeen years old when the legions of the gods attacked her native Brazil, watching with her family as explosions illuminated the landscape and daemons soared across the sky.

After the wars, those people from the conquered countries were formally welcomed into the service of Chaos. Informally, though, they were second-class citizens, and they knew it. Driven by pressures both external and internal, they tended to gravitate towards the dirty, dangerous jobs, particularly those involving the thousands of factories and industrial plants that formed the backbone of the new regime's mighty war machine. Her parents had died when she was twenty, caught in an accident on one of the new orbitals. An errant piece of space-debris had smashed through a cargo hangar, sucking out the oxygen within and sentencing the workers there to a quick, unpleasant death by asphyxiation.

Maria, meanwhile, had entered the army, which had some of the best opportunities for advancement in the post-Third Impact world. It had taken a phenomenal amount of dedication and willpower, but she had eventually managed to be awarded the honour of a post in the Palace Guard. It had been a good life, good enough to make her forget what the gods had done to her and those around her.

Then the prisoners had started to arrive.

They had come from all walks of life – soldiers, scholars, even ordinary civilians – and the ways in which they had been broken were equally varied. The Palace of the Gods became another factory – one of minds rather than machines, dedicated to producing useful tools for the will of Chaos. Maria had seen dozens pass through the room which Kyon currently inhabited, all of them transformed into loyal servants by rage, pleasure, ambition and despair.

"Do you understand?" she finished. "Your fate was sealed from the moment they took you. All I can do is make your last few days of freedom a little more comfortable."

"Freedom?" Kyon asked, with less sarcasm and more fear than he'd hoped to muster. "This is freedom?"

"Comparatively, yes. They'll treat you kindly, in their way, once it's done, and I'm sure they'll believe they're doing you a favour. Make no mistake, though – you'll simply be a vessel of their will. No more, no less."

He was silent. There was nothing he really could say.

Eventually, he got up and went to the book-case – the composer (whoever they had been) seemed to have a particular fondness for nineteenth-century British novelists for some reason. After a few attempts to get through a particularly intractable Dickens book – thankfully less relevant than his last choice of reading matter – he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Later, he wondered if Maria had slipped something into his food to facilitate this – if she had, he was grateful.


For the next few days, they exchanged stories of their respective lives, not to mention general gossip. Maria, improbably, turned out to be something of a movie buff, if one of rather eclectic taste, defending Citizen Kane and Plan Nine from Outer Space with equal fervour. Something as bad as the latter, she claimed, had to be art.

She seemed just as eager to talk as he was – Kyon doubted that standing guard on the outside of a prison ad infinitum was much more interesting than being on the inside. He did wonder, though, whether this lax discipline was a sign of weakness on the gods' part or an expression of confidence in their subversive talents. Most likely the latter. It wasn't an encouraging thought.

Asukhon turned up shortly afterwards. Unlike Tzintchi, she didn't bother with a human form, instead appearing as a towering, crimson-skinned female figure clad in form-fitting bronze armour that Kyon suspected was rather more practical than it looked. Her hair was of the same colour as said armour, and enormous horns curled from her forehead.

Guess they've decided to abandon subtlety, he thought.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked. Still got some fuel left in the sarcasm tanks – good.

She smiled, revealing far too many teeth. "I wanted to go over a few things with you – specifically, how you're going to get broken."

"Oh, good. Can we schedule it a bit later? I've got a pretty busy timetable – can't miss my daily staring-at-a-wall session. Very important." Hey, if they're going to torture me anyway...

She didn't respond, but simply gestured the drone over. It flashed up another series of images, this time of a group of serious-looking men. None of them were younger than their mid-forties.

"These are the people responsible for Second and Third Impact."

Another gesture, and the images changed. A couple of video feeds were added to the mix, as well.

"This is what we did to them."

Kyon tried not to throw up, and barely succeeded.

"Amongst our secondary objectives when exploring other dimensions," she continued, "was locating and capturing the various incarnations of these men. Once we had done so, we got... creative."

The images changed again. And again. He tried to turn away, but something held him in place. He wasn't sure whether it was the goddess's deliberate influence or his own fascinated horror.

"As you can see, we learned a lot from these little sessions. We'll start you off with the basics, then move on to more advanced techniques if you continue to prove intractable. I've never worked on someone with your... abilities before, so this should be an interesting experience for me as well."

Kyon mustered his last few shreds of defiance. "Glad to hear it. Incidentally, how many men, women, and children did it take to perfect those techniques? I mean, if you're going to pull the whole 'sadistic torture technician' shtick, you might as well go all the way."

It was a cheap shot, but it was hard to worry about the finer feelings of someone who apparently saw peeling off all your skin as a warm-up act, particularly given what her companion had already done. That said, he was surprised at the severity of her reaction. She stared at him silently for a few moments, her expression showing the very particular pain of someone who has just had an old wound reopened.

"No," she said softly. "No children. We don't hurt children."

She turned around and walked out, her face set back in that broad, malicious grin, though now it looked a little strained.

"Best practice your grovelling, Kyon. You'll need it in the weeks ahead."


Asukhon strode through the palace corridors, quietly seething. Damn that little piece of shit for getting under my skin...

"Opinion?" Tzintchi asked.

"Honestly, I still have difficulty believing that that runt's a god, even a dormant one," she replied. "My guess is he's going to snap like a rotten branch. Speaking of rotten, why isn't Rei handling this? I'd have thought it was right up her street."

"Oh, she's waiting in the wings," he assured her. "It's just that if he doesn't snap, I know few better people for pissing him off. Bribery and appeals to sympathy won't work anymore – he's convinced that we're the bad guys, and we might as well live up to it. More than one way to corrupt someone, right?"

Asukhon smiled. "Well, it is my speciality..."

"Too right. I've still got the mental scars from our first meeting."

"Hey, you were the one who used your mindsight on me while I was getting changed!"

"Dearest, you asked a teenage boy not to peek. What did you expect?"

"That you'd do it in a way where I could catch you at it! I swear, sorcery sucks the fun out of everything."

"Ah. My apologies for denying you one of your therapeutic daily rants, then. I promise I'll make it up to you later."

"You'd better. Hrm, probably time for a repeat performance of that stunt you pulled with the reshaped daemons. Which one would you suggest?"

"He showed a particular negative reaction to the male last time." Reigle commented.

"Thanks, Rei. Latent homophobia, eh? Useful. Itsuki Koizumi it is, then."

She drew a couple of glowing symbols in the air and gave her hearing a quick boost. About a minute later, she detected screams coming from the guest quarter.


When Kyon awoke next, it was in a hospital bed. His body ached all over, and a brief spot of probing revealed that his head was thickly wrapped in bandages. He couldn't remember much of what had happened after Asukhon left, which was something of a relief. The bits he did remember were bad enough.

Another blessing was that he still had control of all his limbs. After a requisite few moments of gloomy, ceiling-gazing contemplation, he awkwardly extricated himself from the bedsheets, glad that whoever had put him here hadn't felt the need for an intravenous drip or something similarly ghastly. Standing up proved inordinately difficult – sharp twinges of pain coursed through his legs, and he almost fell over twice. Eventually, though, he managed it, thanks largely to the assistance of a bedside table.

He hobbled over to the curtain surrounding the bed and yanked it aside, curious as to his surroundings. The ward turned out to be an enormous ring-shaped affair with curtained beds lining both the outside and inside walls. White-uniformed nurses patrolled in between, some of them moving in ways that suggested something other than standard bipedal locomotion.

There was a series of muffled whumps as some sort of pole impacted against the 'walls' of the fabric cubicle next to him, clearly signalling for attention. Curious, he opened that curtain as well and peered inside.

The bed's resident turned out to be a little girl. She was wired up to an impressive collection of monitors, fluid dispensers, and other, stranger medical dispensers, her bright red hair an odd contrast to the clinical sterility all around her. The pole turned out to be a steel crutch which she held with one hand, and lowered as she registered her visitor.

"Oh, hello," she said with a smile of warm, childish innocence. "Are you one of my new friends' guests?"

Kyon blinked. "'New friends'?"

"Papa Tzintchi. Mamas Reigle, Mislaato, and Asukhon, though she's more of a big sister, really. They've been very nice to me – the people here work for them, you see. My name's Vita. What's yours?"

"Kyon." He attempted a formal bow, and nearly had an unscheduled appointment with the floor yet again. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Vita."

Vita giggled, but it didn't reach her eyes, which were deep blue, strangely elongated, and positively ancient-looking compared to the rest of her.

"So, how did you end up here?" he asked.

Her forehead crinkled. "They said I was hurt in a big fight a long way away. Hurt badly. I don't remember it really. What I do remember is that they took me here and put me back together. They talk to me, you know. They tell me all kinds of stories. Soon I'm going to be big and strong just like Asukhon, and I'm going to fight their enemies."

There was something about the simple pride with which she said it that chilled Kyon to the bone.

"So, what about you, Kyon?"

"Me? Oh, the gods brought me here too," he said truthfully if not honestly. "I think they thought they were doing the right thing there, too."

She studied his face. "Are you all right? You look a little bit sad."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just a long way from my friends, is all, and I've had a bad few days."

"Oh, I see. I miss my friends too, but the gods tell me they'll come soon enough. Maybe yours will do the same."

"Maybe so." Dear Lord, I hope not.

There was the sound of footsteps, plus a bizarre squelching noise. As they faded, Vita turned to Kyon. Her face suddenly didn't look remotely child-like.

"Are they still watching?" she asked in a low voice.

He sighed. "Probably."

A sour expression. "Figures. Name's Lieutenant Vita of the Time-Space Administration Bureau. I'd offer you my service number, but I always did have trouble remembering it. Let me guess – you're stuck in the same mess as me."

"If by 'mess' you mean 'capture and torture by insane extradimensional deities', then I think you pretty much hit the nail on the head."

"Ugh. Charming. Thought you didn't look like the type to get those normally." She indicated the bandages. "No torture here, but they've been feeding me these chemicals. Cloud your mind, make you want to give in... and they change you. On the inside. When I came in, I had at least three internal organs missing. Now they're back, and I should probably be happier than I am. They get you, kid. They get you mind, body, and soul."

"Yeah, I got the full presentation. Word of advice – if they offer you roast pork, don't eat it."

"Pork? If only. Nah – they've got me on liquids, and I'm pretty sure it's not for medical reasons. Not the medical reasons I arrived with, anyway." She shuddered. "Call me Little Miss Obvious, but this place is fucked up, kid."

"You seem to be doing all right, though."

"Only because I've had practice. Believe me, getting through the fluffy pink clouds isn't easy, and it's getting harder every day. They- shit!"

More footsteps approached. Vita urgently beckoned him closer.

"Stahlwind B-2, got it? That's my reset code. Stahlwind B-2. If they break me, you've got to bring me back. I can't let Hayate see me as one of these things' pets..."

Kyon was about to ask for clarification when one of the nurses came through the curtain. She was a large, matronly woman with what Maria had told him was Mislaato's rune tattooed on her forehead. Her left arm strongly resembled the tentacle of an octopus.

"Vita, dear, it's time for your lunch, and-" She stopped as she saw Kyon. "Oh, I see you've been making friends! What a coincidence – I was intending to pop by your bed as well, Master Kyon. Suppose this saves me a bit of effort, eh? Anyway, you're clear to leave, though we'll need you back here in a couple of days to take the bandages off."

The tentacle reached inside her coat, and retrieved a small card box.

"If the pain bothers you, take a couple of these. Should clear it right up."

Kyon took the pills, and retreated with as much speed as he could tactfully manage, wiping off the slime on his pyjama leg. He turned round, and saw that the woman was now busy breastfeeding Vita. The rune on her forehead glowed, and unnaturally thick purple veins pulsated across her skin.

Stahlwind B-2. Right. He remembered the look in the girl's eyes as he had left. They don't hurt children, huh?

The drone was waiting for him at the entrance to the ward. When he approached it, it began to drift away, the symbols it projected indicating that he should follow in a way that entirely bypassed the language centres of his brain. His legs were already in motion before the rest of his body had a chance to catch up.

At the end of the corridor, he stopped and looked around him. Nothing.

"I know you can hear me," he said, "so I want to ask you a question. Why didn't you do that to me? Your current method seems rather crude in comparison. Why sophisticated mind-rape for one and the medieval treatment for the other?"

"You know, that's a very good question," Asukhon's voice replied from nowhere. "Why don't you see if you can figure it out? Tell you what, we'll make it a test. You get it right, you get a cookie... No, no, I can't do this twisty shit. That's Shinji's job. Simple answer, Kyon? We do it because it's fun. Speaking of, the god of your dimension just got laid. Wanna look?"

The drone's projector opened a new feed, showing a hotel room rather similar in design to the one that Kyon currently inhabited. Clothes were scattered across the floor and two naked bodies moved against each other on the bed, shining dully with sweat.

He closed his eyes. "Turn it off."

"You sure? I mean, it looks like we're about to get to the good bit, and-"

"I SAID TURN IT OFF!" It was almost a scream.

"Pff, fine, fine..."

The projection vanished.

"You know, you're really not that cooperative, Kyon," Asukhon chided him. "Think it'd help if we brought along Mikuru to encourage you? Or maybe Yuki? I know Rei's been making some serious advances with biotech computer viruses, and she's just been itching for a test subject."

Ice ran down Kyon's spine. "You will not hurt them."

"Eh. We'll see. Sweet dreams, Kyon."

The drone buzzed away again, and he stumped after it, his shoulders shaking. He tried to forget the look he had seen on Haruhi's face. He tried to forget the look he had seen on his own face.


Far away, in the personal quarters of the gods, Asukhon leaned back in her chair. "Boy, he is steamed."

"Exemplary work, my dear," Tzintchi commented. "I knew I could rely on you."

"Did anyone catch what Vita said to him?" Mislaato asked.

He shook his head. "No. She threw up some sort of interference. Most irritating. Whatever the case, you need to step up the process where she's concerned. Using her was a calculated risk – we already know that our unconsciously-deific buddy has something of a thing about protecting girls. We can't afford her to be a potential spanner in our works any longer, though."

The goddess of lust nodded. "You won't get any argument from me. Asuka, I might need your help with that – she seems to gravitate most towards your side."

"On it. Hey, Shinji, wouldn't it be nice if we actually could carry out that procedure on the runt?"

"It would certainly be easier," he agreed. "That's gods for you, I suppose – always making your lives a little bit harder."

That got a few chuckles.

"We'll let him stew for a few days, maybe poke him once or twice, and then darling Maria can reel him in. I hate to tempt fate like this, but everything seems to be going according to plan. Orgy at eleven, people – don't be late."

"Isn't it my job to organise those?" Mislaato objected.

"Yes, but you've been working yourself to the bone lately. I thought I'd give you a bit of a treat, let you take the load off your feet."

She smiled. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

As the others wandered off to engage in their own activities, Tzintchi stared at the ceiling with his many eyes.

He could have played nice and gone along with us, but he didn't. It's the little sod's own silly fault, really.


By the time Kyon arrived back at his quarters, his rage had focused into something cold and hard, like a knife in his brain. He wasn't a naturally violent young man, but if Tzintchi had stood before him at that moment, he would have happily scraped the god's smug smile off his face. With his thumbs, if necessary.

Maria gave him a concerned look. She was pretty much what he had expected – a scarred, tough-looking woman in her mid-thirties who wore bulky red-and-black body armour that straddled the fine line between decorativeness and functionality.

"What happened?"

"I'd really prefer not to talk about it." He sighed. "Maria, I don't know how much more of this I can take."

She dropped her voice. "I understand. This has gone far too far already. Check your next meal tray – there'll be something on it I think you'll find useful."

"What about your job?"

"Watching students get tortured isn't all it's cracked up to be. This place is locked down too tight to escape, but I'd like to express my disapproval to the gods in person – if you're interested, that is."

He grinned. "Count me in."

"Good. Remember – dinner tray, in the dessert bowl."

The next hour was slow agony. He tried to flick through a few books, but none of them managed to engage him. Instead, he spent most of it fidgeting on the sofa, staring at his watch.

Eventually, the moment he had been waiting for came. The flap on the door rattled, and a simple wooden tray bedecked with dinnerware lowered itself to the floor. He rushed over and eagerly tore open the foil covering on the dessert bowl.

Inside was the tiniest gun he had seen in his life. The grip was barely large enough for him to fit two of his fingers around it, and the barrel was shaped like a miniature syringe. He glared accusingly at the door.

"Is this some sort of joke?"

A laugh from the other side. "Oh yes, but not the sort you're thinking of. We call it the 'Noisy Cricket'. Don't test it out if you value your ceiling – it pulls up a bit. It might take me a little while to arrange a breakout, but don't worry. I'll contact you in a few days."

Kyon finished his meal, and went to bed, the miniscule gun tucked under his pillow. It took some time, but eventually he fell into an erratic, troubled sleep... though not until he had hurled the room's copy of The Prisoner of Zenda into the waste disposal unit's waiting maw.


Author's Notes: Hey, they're the heirs to the Chaos Gods. You were expecting nice? Oh, and word of advice - this isn't one of those stories where villains never lie. You have been warned.

Vita was another character I just couldn't see going along with the Chaotic agenda as cheerfully as she did in the original story, and especially not just because they were being polite about the icky, disturbingly Freudian brainwashing. I mean, come on. Would it work? Maybe. Would she be happy about it? Hell, no.

Join me again next week, in which we encounter tea breaks, alien abductions, and fancy sunglasses as the gods' scenario slowly heads out the proverbial window.

Thanks for reading!