Author's Note
Most of this chapter and the previous one were written as one sequence but revised into two chapters. As such they have both been released in the same week. If you've just come to this chapter from a notification, please make sure you have read the previous chapter (Chapter 16: Out of the Frying Pan) before this one spoils it for you. Thanks for reading.
Chapter 17: Last Supper
Over 30 years ago
A wave of heat rushed from the open oven, filling the house with the warm scent of the freshly baked lasagna Nori was pulling out. After setting the glass dish on the stove top, she returned her mitts to their drawer and began to plate the meal. Their supper that night was composed of the lasagna as the entree, a loaf of french bread as the side, and a salad as a garnish.
Nori ensured that each of the elements was placed in its proper proportion and position before she set the table accordingly. The exact pattern which Nori followed had been so intensely pressed upon her by the late Mistress Kamizono that Nori dared not to vary from it, even in her absence. Having assured herself that her work adhered to the strictest measures, Nori prepared to ring the dinner bell. The doorbell, however, rang first.
As Nori walked to discover the source of the interruption, the thought occurred to her that the average deliveryman or solicitor would have rang the bell a second time already; ding-dong-ditchers had never been a problem. By the time she looked through the peephole, she had already concluded that the person on the doorstep held enough influence that they expected their first summon would be answered in time. That was when she saw the lieutenant's stripes.
A sudden jolt straightened Nori's spine and forced her to gulp. Nori was well aware of her master's recent involvement with Sumeragi: the deal he had made on Mytyl's account. She was also aware that his hate for them grew with each passing day. For a moment, she wondered if she should run to warn him, as if he should flee from the enemy at the gates. However, she was nearly certain that he would feel obliged to open the door anyway. Of her own obligations, she was entirely certain.
Nori patted out the folds of her service dress and took hold of the doorknob. Before she turned it, however, one more "should I" popped into her mind. Why not? Because it would upset him? What was that to her? At worst, she was merely carrying out her duty. At best, it was a kind of karmic retribution: the master made to play the slave. So, why was the door so heavy when she pulled it from the frame?
"How may I help you, sir?" she said.
The young man, astoundingly young for his station, met Nori's greeting with a smooth smile. The wildness of his hair, which was spiked but seemed to swirl in a measured pattern, suggested that he was one of those special adepts who had been inducted directly into the Summeragi Defense Force; their dress codes were more lax than the JSDF. His sleeves hung slack from the hands behind his formal facade.
"Is the doctor in tonight?" the young officer asked.
"He is," Nori answered. "May I have your–"
With a single word, Dr. Kamizono announced both his appearance behind Nori and his displeasure.
"Nova."
. . . . . . . . . .
Present
Apollo's and Cayman's feet pounded down the long hall. They had pursued Asroc much deeper into the facility, but he seemed more interested in getting to something there than offering any more resistance. As he rushed closer to the light at the end of the hall, Apollo kept his eyes peeled for a trap.
The two emerged from the hall onto an observation deck overlooking some kind of massive hangar bay. The size of the space was staggering. Apollo had reviewed the schematics of the facility well before making his entrance, but he had seen no indication of such an underground bunker.
The bright lights shone vibrantly onto the unstained walls, and the many metal walkways still twisting around the room's open center reflected the light with the lustre of newly installed infrastructure. Even the high ceiling appeared to be retractable. It seemed that weapons disposal was no longer the facility's only purpose.
"Decided to dine with us after all, did you?"
Asroc's voice rang from a loudspeaker and echoed through the hangar. As soon as Asroc spoke, Apollo noticed a rising elevator lifting Asroc and his mech out of a raised floor on the opposite side of the gigantic room.
"I'm surprised to see you both at the table," Asroc said. "Tell me, are you both desperate enough to beg bread from the same hand, or did the revelation of deception just never sink into that soggy meatball you pass for a brain?"
"Your mind games didn't work," Cayman said. "I may not be the most–"
"The mic's to your left," Asroc interrupted. "Idiot sandwich…."
Cayman grabbed the microphone and wrenched it to him.
"You listen up, 'cause I'm only saying this once," Cayman said. "I've known for a long time that Apollo's life's been more complicated than mine. I don't care about the details. I've seen plenty to tell me that Apollo and me are both men who fight to be better every day. And that's just the kind of man I can trust."
"How like a primitive dog," Asroc scoffed, "to cling to his master for a few crumbs."
"For all your talk of evolution," Apollo said, "it's you who hasn't changed. While you've been stewing in the past, the world has evolved just fine without you!"
"Fool," Asroc said. "History repeats. The instant the heat rises, loyalty counts for nothing. With just a little pressure, the people of today will betray you just as quickly as the false friends of mine and the Sumeragi of Elise's. The past is the present. And the through line that binds it all is the utter stagnation of despicable, tasteless humans!"
At just that moment, the reverberation of shifting metal resounded throughout the hangar. The massive bay doors in the center floor began to part, and below, the shadow of something gargantuan began to rise up.
"Humankind has become nothing more than stale leaven," Asroc said. "Only the coming of a new batch, evolution's chosen, will lift this world out of its deplorable state."
A monstrous machine of black metal, suspended on an apparatus of clamps and cables which vaguely resembled a marionette's upholstery, rose from the darkness beneath. Despite its gigantic proportions, the colossal robot possessed no legs. Instead, it appeared to be equipped with an enormous hover system on its base and back while its long arms hung well past the terminus of its torso which was centered with a glowing energy turbine. Long heat conduits like raised cannons jutted out the tops of the robot's bulky shoulders, and a large piece like a hammerhead stood back between the shoulders.
"Behold my masterwork," Asroc said. "The piece de resistance, the exquisite diamond baked from the ancient fires of hatred, the Gran Torta!"
The apparatus raising the machine locked into place, and the massive chunk of hanging metal shook and creaked like a roaring bear.
"And this time," Asroc said, "all that's missing is the cherry on top!"
Asroc climbed into his mech which immediately leapt nearly to the ceiling. It plummeted onto the Gran Torta and locked into a slot specially built for it, becoming the machine's true head. Asroc's septima strings spreaded from his mount and weaved like circuits throughout the titanic mech. Its core spun up, its hover engines lit, and its shoulder spikes radiated with heat.
[Collective Consciousness - Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance OST]
"With this utensil of wrath," Asroc said, "I will carve a banquet of death for Elise and fry the old world to a crisp. Then, like a phoenix from the ash, a new world, the world of the evolved, will be born!"
All at once the control arms and cables released the machine. It shifted then suspended itself and raised its arms while Asroc's demented, power-drunk laughter echoed through the hangar.
"The only thing getting fried today is your brain!" Apollo said. "A new world is already on the horizon, and the Dragon Saviours are its defenders!"
"Let's crack this nutcase!" Cayman said.
Something like a long case was attached to each of the robot's forearms. At Asroc's command, they split open and revealed a pair of steaming heat blades. Immediately, he thrust one of the blades through the observation window. The reinforced glass shattered before the enormous blade as Apollo and Cayman dove to the side. Asroc twisted the blade, turning it toward Apollo, and moved to slice him, but both Apollo and Cayman dove out the broken window onto the nearest walkway.
As soon as the pair landed, energy began to radiate from the Gran Torta's shoulder conduits. A salvo of fireballs blasted out from them and rained down like meteorites. Apollo and Cayman split, running in opposite directions while the crashing fireballs engulfed the walkways behind them.
One of the falling fireballs cut off Cayman's escape route, and looking up, he saw another barrelling straight towards him. In a split second reaction, he held his hands up and focused his Duelist septima into a containment field just in front of them. Somewhat to Cayman's surprise, the field caught and trapped the fireball, suspending it like a sun in his hands. He knocked it aside such that it scorched the wall instead of him.
"Wait," Cayman thought, "did I just…?"
Asroc had shifted his attention to Apollo who was searching for an approach angle. Apollo watched the massive heat blades lift up both before and behind him. Firing boosters on the arms, they crashed through the walkways and sent several sections of them, including the one Apollo was standing on, flying into the air.
Remarkably, Apollo kept his footing and, in a show of extreme agility, began to leap from one piece of broken bridge to another while they were suspended in the air. Reaching his last foothold, Apollo sprung toward Asroc. Aiming for an assault on the mech's head, Apollo threw his knives at the machine's collar to pull himself in.
Asroc, however, activated a defensive measure; the Gran Torta's shoulders opened up beneath the heat conduits and unleashed a wall of burning sparks and immobilizer rings like flares, covering his position in the head. When Apollo broke off his approach, Asroc aimed to blast him with the eye lasers from his smaller mech. The targeters locked onto him.
Below, Cayman put his hands together and focused his energy once more. He channeled flames from his armor as if he were about to perform a fiery charge, but instead, he let the flames funnel into his Duelist field, creating a fireball of his own. He pulled his hands to his side.
"Shinku… Hadoken!" he shouted.
Cayman thrust his hands forward, launching the fireball. It struck the huge robot near its head with enough force that the eye lasers missed Apollo. Cayman had done it; he had finally mastered the Hadoken technique! Of course, Kirin probably wouldn't let him call it that. Copyright or some legal hooplah.
Asroc turned his attention back toward Cayman. Before he could launch another attack, however, Apollo swung in front of Cayman with a chunk of the broken walkways in tow and, hoping to find a more viable weak point, slung it at the machine's core. The slab of metal struck the core like a missile and reverberated with a loud clang.
As if to show the duo how little he cared, Asroc charged up the core's beam which flared with yellow light.
"I'm caramelize you!" he shouted through the loudspeaker.
The massive beam blasted from the core, its radiation recoloring the entire hangar for its deadly duration. Apollo and Cayman both leapt high into the air as the beam cascaded behind them, blowing the walkways to bits. The beam persisted and followed them, carving a trail of destruction in its path, but Apollo grabbed onto Cayman and swung him far enough out of the way that the beam couldn't reach them before it dissipated.
"This is getting us nowhere," Apollo said.
. . . . . . . . . .
Past
Nori turned at the sound of Dr. Kamizono's voice. However brightly his white hair reflected the lights, it still shadowed his face. His eyes cut to Nori's for but a moment, and she noticed something akin to disappointment behind his glasses. At least, she thought as much; Dr. Kamizono's face hadn't moved much since the funeral. She stepped aside without taking her hand off the door.
"Good evening, doctor," Nova said. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"What is your business here, Nova?" Dr. Kamizono said.
"It's not exactly business that brings me here," Nova said. "You see, I know we've had our disagreements lately. I was hoping we might try to bury the hatchet. That is, if I'm not interrupting anything."
Dr. Kamizono sighed through his nose. He nodded after a moment.
"We were about to have our supper," he answered. "Nori always overprepares. Isn't that right, Nori?"
Actually, Nori prepared exactly enough for each seat at the table. Only, one of them was empty as of late. She agreed anyway.
Nori escorted Copen and Mytyl to the table and ensured everyone was seated comfortably. She uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for both Dr. Kamizono and his guest. Dr. Kamizono took his alcohol the way most men took over-the-counter painkillers: by necessity, by a measured dose, with a mind to the continued function of his liver. His prescription, however, had become a daily dose on work nights.
The shuffling of the chair legs was the only sound in the room as everyone took their places at the rectangular table. Nori sat on a stool next to Mytyl, still a toddler, to oversee her feeding. Seeing everyone in place, Nori nodded to Copen. According to tradition, he bowed his head and began to recite his lines.
"God is great. God is good–"
"Copen, son," Dr. Kamizono said. "Allow me tonight."
Everyone looked up for a moment and glanced around. Nova had picked up his fork, but smiled and closed his eyes once more.
"Our Heavenly Father," Dr. Kamizono said, "we thank you for joining us together over this meal. Thank you for being our good shepherd who leads us by still waters and restores our souls. We pray that you will, indeed, lead us along right paths for your name's sake and that this food will strengthen us for the journey. In your holy name we pray, amen."
The forks clinked against the plates until everyone had taken their first bite.
"I'm glad to see your daughter well," Nova said. "She seems to be growing steadily despite her… condition."
"She's strong," Dr. Kamizono said. "She has that special strength that only shows itself in weakness."
Quiet. In truth, Nori almost wished she had seen Mistress Kamizono live to be put in the doctor's position. Nori had always found him more…agreeable.
"Master Copen," Nori said, "learn anything interesting at school today?"
"We learned a little about natural selection," Copen said, "but nothing interesting like dad does."
"Patience, son," Dr. Kamizono said. "Knowledge is power, but it's the journey that teaches you to use it well. Not everyone learns that."
No one dared to look up. Nova washed down his latest bite of bread with a sip of wine. His gaze being forced downward, he took special notice of the fork when he picked it up.
"I must say, this is some fine silverware," Nova said, "almost as fine as the food. You didn't get out the good china just for me, did you?"
"Some of our ancestors were firm believers in the supernatural," Dr. Kamizono said. "They amassed a large collection of silver, some of which remains in our use."
"Is that so?" Nova said. "I'll be sure to call you if we find out about any werewolf adepts."
"Which are, unfortunately, a real possibility," Dr. Kamizono said.
"True enough," Nova chuckled.
Nori noticed that Dr. Kamizono was draining his wine more quickly than his meal. She kept watching for his glance to get him a refill, but he never looked at her.
"They're an interesting concept, don't you think?" Dr. Kamizono said. "Werewolves: the monster that lurks in a man. The things he'll do under the full moon, under cover of night, when reason and morality cease to restrain him."
He looked up when he was saying the last part.
"All the more reason we should work to restrain them, right?" Nova said.
A metallic creak drew everyone's attention toward Dr. Kamizono. The salad fork beside his plate had folded onto itself.
"And it'll take something more than silver," Nova said.
Dr. Kamizono remained motionless as the fork straightened back out. A crease remained in the metal. Copen slowly turned toward Nova who was enjoying his meal as if nothing had happened. Dr. Kamizono set down his utensils and folded his hands in his lap.
"Nori," he said, "if you please, take Copen and Mytyl to their rooms. The lieutenant and I have some business to discuss."
"As you wish," Nori said.
She set about her task quickly, but just before she escorted the children out, Dr. Kamizono got her attention.
"A refill before you go," he said.
"For me as well, if you don't mind," Nova said.
Once Nori had poured the glasses, she took young Copen by the hand. He was staring with such fixation that Nori practically had to drag him out.
"Who is he, Nori?" Copen said.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," Nori said. "He's just… the man in charge."
That was when Nori realized she could taste hypocrisy (too much vinegar); there was nothing more fearsome than the man in charge.
It wasn't long after she had closed the children in their rooms that she heard the voices rising from the table.
"Don't you tell me about necessary sacrifices," Dr. Kamizono was saying.
"Doctor, if there were anyone else, I would release you from this, but you know full well that we are no ordinary men," Nova said. "So, you'll have to forgive me if I struggle to understand how a man who believes in miracles can't see we were chosen for this!"
"No one chose you, Nova," Dr. Kamizono said. "You chose that power for yourself."
"Doctor–"
"And you only stopped with it because you couldn't handle the Striker!" Dr. Kamizono roared.
Nova didn't raise his voice to match the doctor. Instead, he levitated all the silverware on the table and slammed it back down, sending much of it pinging onto the floor. He took a deep breath and spoke calmly once more.
"You know what's expected of you, doctor," he said. "Some things can't be changed. This is the only path forward… for either of us."
Nori heard Nova push his chair back and march toward the door. She stepped around the corner just in time to see Nova slam the door behind him without ever touching it.
Dr. Kamizono, his arms and face hanging like a wilted willow, was standing at the end of the table. The scattered silverware rested like pieces of shattered glass around him. They were from the in-laws, from Mistress Kamizono's ancestors.
Without a word, Nori stepped forward, stooped down, and began picking the pieces up. Silently, he watched her. Then, he went to the other side of the table and started picking up the pieces himself.
Nori took the silver to the sink. She always hand washed them, but she set them down carefully this time, making the faintest clink she could before starting the faucet. Dr. Kamizono laid his next to hers. When he did, he rested his hand on her back, right in the center of the mark that bound her. Nori stared straight forward. His hand lingered, spreading warmth like pooling blood. She felt a tremble in his touch.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Nori finally turned to look at him, but he had already turned away. His hand slid off her, and he walked away. She remained staring after him with nothing but the faucet dripping onto the silverware as he drew further with each drop. The wet knife lingered in her hand. It might as well have been in his back.
There was a time when Nori would have given anything to see her master put in her own position. But no longer. She should have never opened the door to her master's enemy. And she never would. Never again.
. . . . . . . . . .
Present
[Armstrong 2 - Metal Gear Rising Revengeance OST]
The Gran Torta, that monstrous marionette, loomed over Apollo and Cayman. The dwarfed Dragon Saviours were struggling to catch their breath while the machine's core, still glowing with the excess heat of its recent discharge, was cooling down. Were the retractable roof open, Asroc's machine would surely have eclipsed the sky.
"Lifting heavy metal might be my thing," Cayman said, "but giant robots are a different story. Might be time to phone a friend."
"Agreed," Apollo said. "Shiron do you read? We're encountering heavy resistance from a giant mech. Could use your input."
"A giant mech?" Shiron said. "There's no way he had time to put that together! How the hell did he–"
"Looks like our superiors did half the work for him," Apollo said. "The core's proving invulnerable and the head inaccessible. Any chance you could hack it?"
"It's worth a shot," Shiron said. "Get in close, and I'll see what I can do with local transmitters."
"That's right," Asroc said. "Simmer in despair. Let it soak in until it marinates you to perfection!"
Even in the heat of battle, Apollo couldn't help but wonder if Asroc had always spoken exclusively in cooking metaphors. Then again, Apollo was friends with BB.
"Distract him while I make my move," Apollo said.
"I've got just the thing," Cayman said.
Asroc simultaneously prepped the heat conduits and lined up another slice. Apollo leapt forward while Cayman rolled to the side of the blade. The slice divided several levels of the walkways such that they snapped and crashed one by one. Cayman fell with them but landed on his feet on the bottom ring around the bay doors.
At the same time, the Gran Torta's shoulders fired off another salvo of fireballs around itself, but Apollo swung and weaved through the falling brimstone like a darting swallow. Before Asroc could fully shift his focus to the aerial adversary, Cayman stole back his attention with another fireball of his own.
To keep Asroc from looking away, Cayman tested a new strategy. Instead of taking the traditional Hadoken pose, he channeled his septima with one hand and punched the fireball with the other. As intended, the flames hit their mark. Soon, Cayman was throwing one punch after another, pelting the machine with a barrage of heat.
While Cayman suppressed Asroc, Apollo managed to latch onto the back of the Gran Torta's false head.
"Connection established," Shiron said. "Wow, this code is ancient. If my memory serves me right…. I'm in! What should I try?"
Asroc had lowered the Gran Torta closer to Cayman's level and angled both blades to swipe from the same side. Cayman dove between them and rolled into the Hadoken pose, but Asroc was already coming back around with another strike. Cayman launched the fireball into the blade, knocking it off course, but the other arm was about to come down as well.
"Right arm: stop the blade!" Apollo said.
"Locking servos!" Shiron said.
Shiron's hack failed to stop the swing entirely, but it delayed the slash just long enough that Cayman still managed to evade.
"Ah crap!" Shiron said. "His septima is controlling this thing physically! I can slow him down, but I can't stop it!"
"Another fly finds the honey," Asroc said. "Hands off!"
The smaller mech's arms separated once more and swirled around the Gran Torta to swat Apollo, forcing him to dive back.
"Connection lost; I can't do anything," Shiron said.
Apollo regrouped with Cayman.
"No luck?" Cayman said.
"He can't stop it, but…. Wait," Apollo said, "Shiron, can you make him do something harder than he means to?"
"If we reconnect, yeah," Shiron answered, "but how does that–"
"That's it!" Apollo said.
[The Hot Wind Blowing - Metal Gear Rising Revengeance OST]
"What's up?" Cayman said.
"I've come up with a new recipe," Apollo answered. "Cayman, get ready to stop his blade. Shiron, prepare to fire the left arm booster. We're going to shear it right off."
The core began to charge up once more.
"Enough playing with your food," Asroc said. "It's time you bit the dust!"
The core laser unleashed its fury once more. Cayman coated himself in flames and blasted off like a rocket while the torrent of devastation chased him closely. At the same time, Apollo swung and darted around the hangar, throwing his knives into strategic positions amidst the debris Asroc's attacks had created around the room. As soon as the core beam ran out, Apollo landed next to Cayman and crossed his arms.
Apollo focused all his concentration onto his scattered blades. While he closed his fingers into fists, Apollo envisioned a pendulum swinging back and forth in identical arcs. Structure was his strength, the strength to bring order from chaos, give direction to motion. His eyes flashed in tandem with his septimal spike.
"Atom Smasher!"
Wherever Apollo's blades had struck, an intense rattling, followed by the creak of twisting metal, reverberated around the room. Each of the blades snatched up its surrounding metal and debris until each wad of scrap conglomerated into one of two massive spheres suspended on either side of the Gran Torta.
With a shout, Apollo uncrossed his arms, pulling the scrap spheres inward like a pair of gigantic wrecking balls. They each slammed into the mech's shoulder spikes, bending them enough to disable the heat conduits. Asroc immediately sought to retaliate with a horizontal slash, but Apollo swung one of the spheres around like a flail and struck the blade such that it lodged into the scrap, pulling the razor off course into the wall.
Apollo swung the other sphere like a hammer and slung it against the machine's core. The metal ball struck the mech like a drumstick, causing it to resound like a gong. When the ball bounced back, Apollo attached his shoulder ropes to one of the last remaining walkways and flipped over it. Reading his intention, Cayman rocketed toward the sphere in a fiery charge. As soon as Apollo came back to the low point of his swing, he released his tethers and shot toward the sphere with a diving kick.
Both Apollo and Cayman struck the metal sphere at the same time, blasting it like a meteor toward Asroc. Asroc's mech fired its eye laser and raised its free sword to defend, but the projectile's momentum was beyond stopping. Though it shattered on impact, the scrap ball struck the machine with such force that the entire mech, swinging by its pinned arm, slammed against the wall.
The mech's eyes flared through the dust, and the glowing heat blade cut through the cloud.
"You call that garbage an attack?" Asroc said. "I'll show you what real death tastes like!"
The blade swooped in diagonally, leveling its angle to lop off their heads like dollops of butter.
"Now!" Apollo said.
Apollo moved to meet the blade head-on and dove under it. As he did so, he threw his knives into the back of the blade, anchored his shoulder tethers to the floor, and dug in his heels. Apollo's efforts to draw back the blade strained him to his limit for minimal loss of velocity. However, Cayman crashed himself into the flat of the blade with a burning dive kick, pressing it into the ground.
"Duelist Dimension!"
A multitude of sparks trailed the grinding blade as Cayman's septimal field supplied the requisite force to pin it down. The moment that the machine arm halted, Apollo flipped onto it and sprinted up its length, planting a trail of knives as he went.
"Shiron, get ready!" he said.
"Link's almost live," Shiron said.
Just as Apollo reached the elbow joint, he sprung into the air with a twist and hooked his tethers to the arm.
"Here goes," he said to himself.
Apollo stuck out his toe, applied intense, rotational vectors to himself, and yanked his tethers. The resulting twist spun him around at ludicrous speed, turning his body into a human drill with his toe as the bit. Sparks flew as Apollo's foot slowly ground its way into the metal joint. He kept returning his eyes to Cayman as his focal point so that he wouldn't fly out of place, but at his speed of rotation, dizziness was an inevitability.
As soon as he lost momentum, Apollo collapsed onto the joint and clung to it. He had drilled a hole most of the way through, but he could no longer tell up from down on account of the world relentlessly spinning around him. Cayman continued to hold down the blade below.
While Apollo was struggling to regain his balance, Asroc realized that he would have better luck freeing his right arm from the wall and debris than he would have freeing his left arm from Cayman. Pushing the right arm's hydraulics to full power, he dislodged it from its restraints.
"Link established," Shiron said. "On your mark, Apollo."
"Boss, look out!" Cayman said.
Apollo looked up to see that Asroc had raised the right blade to the mech's left shoulder and was about to sweep it through him.
"Mark!" Apollo said.
The moment the word left his mouth, Apollo leapt back and pulled on the septimal knives he had planted. At the same time, Cayman lifted the blade from below, and Shiron fired the booster on the arm. With a sudden creak, the elbow joint snapped, and the Gran Torta's forearm, blade attached, went flying into the air.
Cayman closely eyed the blade as it spiralled. He anchored his feet firmly and tensed all his muscles for an explosion of power.
"Goin' for a new max today," he said.
Using his septima to ensure he got the right part of the arm, Cayman reached out and caught the humongous weapon which slammed onto him with crushing force. Exerting all of his considerable strength, Cayman kept his knees from buckling under the titanic weight, but no amount of effort could push it back up.
Suddenly, the weight alleviated by the slightest amount, allowing him to straighten his legs. Cayman looked up to see Apollo on the walkway above pulling on his septimal knives which glowed along the flat of the blade.
"I've got your spot," Apollo said.
The Gran Torta's core glowed as it charged a devastating beam strike, but before it could fire, it sparked and fizzled out. Apollo's last attack had finally damaged it.
"How dare you?" Asroc said. "How dare you spit on my five-star dish?"
The Gran Torta lifted its remaining, colossal blade. As it came forward, Asroc's voice boomed.
"Prepare to dine in hell!"
As the furious blade cut a diagonal heat wave through the air, Cayman swung hard, and Apollo pushed the blade with his septima. The glowing swords clashed and deflected off one another. When Cayman's blade crashed back behind him, he lifted the grip over his head and dropped it onto his other shoulder. Asroc changed sides as well.
The blades clashed once more to the same result. Cayman swapped sides again, but Asroc lifted his blade straight overhead. The booster heated up for a fatal chop.
"Now!" Apollo said.
"Firing!" Shiron said.
The boosters on both blades ignited, and they rocketed into each other. They sparked against one another in the struggle, but Cayman's sword, having struck from the better angle, pushed it to the side and cleaved right through it.
As the Gran Torta's blade snapped in half, Cayman roared and swung again. The blade cut straight through the machine's core which promptly exploded.
"No!" Asroc cried.
"Yes, sensei," Shiron called, "split it wide open!"
Cayman swung back across, slicing through the Gran Torta's armor like a layered cake. Keeping the last swing's momentum, Cayman spun the massive sword around himself and brought it crashing onto the colossus from above.
Asroc barely managed to eject from his mech before the entire titanic machine split in two, exposing its burning circuitry and exploding innards. In a rage, he pulled his knives to his hands and dove toward the Dragon Saviours. Apollo, however, leapt toward him, attached his tethers to the Gran Torta's falling shoulder spikes, and slingshotted himself at Asroc.
"Your goose," Apollo said, "is cooked!"
Apollo cut straight through Asroc who's armor immediately cracked. At the same time, the Gran Torta's core went critical, and the ensuing inferno consumed Asroc amidst his rupturing form.
After the flash of the machine's dying gasp, dust and smoke billowed from its collapse and thoroughly fogged the hangar. Apollo went silent amidst the cacophony. Cayman covered his face with his muscular arm and trekked through the smoke. Following Apollo's transponder, he climbed over the massive marionette's wreckage, fallen like a statue after an earthquake.
"Apollo!" Cayman called out. "Apollo, can you hear me, boss?"
Cayman advanced to the point that Apollo's signal was right under him. Without hesitation, he lifted up the heavy debris and tossed them aside like foam pit blocks. Upon flipping over a sheet of metal, he was met with a coughing, dust coated Apollo.
"C-Cayman," he said.
Cayman took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet. Apollo brushed some of the dust off his front, and they both unmasked.
"Those were some fancy moves back there," Cayman said.
"Glad you saw them," Apollo said, "because I'm never doing that again."
Apollo leaned his head back and sighed in relief. Cayman chuckled. Apollo soon did the same.
"Shiron," Apollo said, "we got him. Mission complete."
"Hell yeah, guys!" Shiron said. "That was a gutsy plan, Apollo. Way to think on your feet!"
"Keep your compliments," Apollo said. "It wouldn't have stood a chance without Cayman holding things up."
"Yeah, well, I had a helping hand," Cayman said. "That big hit was all you, little buddy. Carrying the team as always!"
"Ah, come on, guys," Shiron said. "I didn't even…. Woah, whoah, wait a minute. What is that septima reading doing? Hang on, guys; I gotta analyze this. AFK."
The worst of the smoke cloud had cleared by the time Shiron got off the line. With a degree of clarity restored to the air, numerous sparks and embers, floating like fireflies on the wind, danced over the fallen giant.
"Wouldja look at that?" Cayman said.
"Marvelous," Apollo said.
"Another job in the books, huh?" Cayman said.
"Indeed," Apollo said, "and this one, I'm proud to have on my record."
Apollo took a seat on the rubble. Cayman laid back in it.
"Cayman," Apollo said after a moment, "you really meant what you said? That you don't care about what I did before?"
"Course I did," Cayman answered. "Look, the best thing a man can do for himself is believe. Nobody gets any stronger without believing hard enough to put in the effort. So, you know, we might as well believe in each other."
"A cord of three strands…" Apollo said.
"That's what I figure, anyway," Cayman said. "Besides, it's not like you've ever let me down."
Apollo smiled and nodded. He lifted his eyes to the floating lights and watched them dance.
"I know someone else who could use some belief right now," Apollo said.
. . . . . . . . . .
A torii gate stood at the bottom of a long, stone staircase winding up to the mountain temple. Reverently, Kirin rested her hand on the crimson post. A strong wind, bearing the scent of night, blew her hair and cloak to and fro while she gazed back over the city below.
The sun, its back turned on the world, was nearly sunk under the unsearchable waters of the horizon. From the unseen lands of the far sky and from the gritty cracks of civilization, shadow had begun to creep into the world, seeping like ink into canvas. Step by step, it was crawling its way up the mountain, but where Kirin stood, turning her eyes toward the summit, the light was yet to depart.
BB, standing just beside Kirin, braced his hat against the wind.
"So, uh, couldn't they have just dropped us off on top of the mountain?" BB said.
Kirin sighed.
"It's called a pilgrimage, BB," she said. "You don't just air drop into a temple. The journey gets you ready for the destination."
"Oh, right on," BB said. "Sorry, but sometimes I forget you're like a religious figure or whatchamacallit."
"Not doing the best at my job, am I?" Kirin said.
"Ah, come on, Kirin. I didn't mean it like that," BB said.
Kirin stood in quiet. BB figured he should keep his mouth shut. With the shadow of night slowly closing on their heels, BB followed Kirin's gaze to the temple above. Its central tower was built like a Tenshu. Though the sun no longer glowed over it, the low angled light still laid its rays onto the layered roofs.
"Will you stay with me?" Kirin said.
The timor of fear in Kirin's voice caught BB off guard. He turned to her. She looked back shyly, as if she regretted making the request. The shadow had come to touch her heel.
BB stepped forward and, resolutely, put his foot on the next stair. He reached out to Kirin.
"Every step," he said.
A soft smile broke through Kirin's melancholy. She took his hand, took a step, and took the lead. Together, they climbed, walking in the last rays of the dying sun.