From the Ashes. . .

[PslyderFTA]

Pain. . .


Image flash: boots, impact, falling. The snap-click of systems malfunction in the arm. The telltale lack of a safety line. Wind, rushing. Systems display showing several critical errors and failures. Impact.


Pain. . .


Wavering sounds of reality. Medical terms bandied about like orders from a drill sergeant. Gasps of shock and horror. Long white corridors, never in focus. A sickly sweet stench to the air.


Pain. . .


Hissing gas flowing through tubes and into lungs. Sensors wiring from skin to diagnostic equipment in a macabre web. One lone wire, different somehow, connecting a chromed port beneath the ear and a highly advanced collection of silicon, plastic, and aluminum.

Lenses whirred. Electricity sparked. Virtual reality formed into resolution around his psyche. Screens hung in midair, displaying various charts, diagrams, and numbers. What passed for a frown showed on what passed for a face in an electron landscape. To the layman's eye, most would seem insanely confusing. To the trained eye, it simply did not look good.

Power flowed to small magnets in metal racks, transforming pulsing signals into audible noise. A distorted voice, murmuring in the background. To all present, it sounded harsh, and full of irony.

"Initiate operation Phoenix Reborn."

(tbc)

[Chase MacLaren]

The Starlight Foundation. Founded by Vincent Smith to help clean up the streets of Badside, the patrols that issue from the mid-sized building seem to need no sleep, no food, and no rest. But for the moment, that seemed rather unimportant to two individuals. One was actually inside the building, deep in the basement levels, floating in a regenerative bath.

The other was lost. She hated hospitals, and although this building wasn’t one, it felt enough like one to make the hairs raise on her neck and arms. The cryptic note that the Scotsman left her in the Outback only indicated that Psly was waiting for her somewhere—apparently he was well enough to be able to wait on her, but not well enough to see her under his own power.

She suddenly, fiercely wished that Jono were here with her, to hold her hand through this. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to see Psly the way she imagined he was. But, she’d been in this position before, recovering from multiple broken bones after a bike ride gone awry long ago, no one to see about her, to look after her. All trepidation aside, she wasn’t going to allow Pslyder, to whom she owed so much, to suffer the same fate. She tugged her jacket closer around herself, and kept walking.

People milled about her busily, some in lab coats, some in business suits, some in uniforms she’d never been and would never be familiar with. There were what appeared to be classrooms, laboratories, dormitories, libraries. Physical training centers, think tanks. She reached in her pocket once more for the paper left her by Moyrlochlon, and bit a lip. Basement. Oh, this is getting better and better.

She passed a laboratory, her gaze meeting that of a scientist clad in a white coat and face mask. His brown eyes widened as she passed, and she almost reached for her switchblade when he barreled out of the lab door, out of breath.

“Ms. MacLaren?” he asked doubtfully. She kept walking, hoping that he would leave her alone, but she didn’t know why. This whole scenario reminded her of some movie back on Earth. You know... the one with the zombies and the skinned dogs.

“Ms. MacLaren! Chase!” A hand on her shoulder, and she had to stop. She turned around, looking at him.

“Yeah?” she asked just as doubtfully, as completely confused as she was afraid, stepping back from him. “What?”

“You are Chase MacLaren? I thought I recognized you from the Talon Tournament, but my, you are…”

“Cut the crap, dude. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry. I assume you’re here to see Mr. Alexander.”

“Um… yeah. I’m… I’m kinda lost.” She scratched her head nervously, her unease turning into irritation with every second he stared at her with those baby-wide brown eyes. “Look, can you take me to him?”

“Yes, right away.” He stepped out in front of her, walking at a pace so brisk that she had to almost trot to keep up, her strides much shorter than his as a result of the nearly 6 inch height advantage he had on her. He didn’t look back to her once, only talking about his fascination with sport dueling and how he likened it to his work with his gene replication theories. His voice faded into a blur as fleeting as the sights around her as she struggled to keep up with him. How would she ever find her way out of this place?

He stopped before a pair of steel doors at the end of the incline ramp it seemed they’d been on forever, and turned to her.

“Here is where I stop. They’re—he’s—expecting you. Just place your right hand on that panel over there—he indicated the biometric identification panel near the doors—and walk in.”

“Um… hey, thanks. If you want an autograph or some...” She trailed off as she realized he was gone. Shrugging, she turned to the door and placed her hand on the panel as he directed, her eyes adjusting to the light as the doors opened slowly. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Pslyder for the first time since that tragic night in the Outback, and she bit her lip until it bled to bite back the scream that threatened.

[Chase MacLaren]

She took a tentative step into the room, her eyes darting side to side like they usually did when she was in an unfamiliar place. Her gaze kept returning to the tank, which appeared to be lit from below with a calming blue light. She could see him there, could recognize his frame anywhere, although it was hard to tell with the abundance of wires and machines attached to him.

It all looked so fraggin’ foreign to her as she struggled to understand. What had happened to him that night? Wasn’t he the Terminator? How could this have happened?

Chase walked slowly towards the tank, finally taking notice of two flat screen monitors that seemed to come as close as any to displaying what had happened to Pslyder and what was happening in the tank. It appeared to be filled with a viscous liquid, and she couldn’t even be sure that it was Psly by sight, for his electric blue eyes (as they had always been for her) were shrouded in a visor that reminded her of Geordi Laforge on Star Trek back home. His arms were covered by big sleeves, and colors flashed below the fabric—red, green, blue. On the skin that was exposed, the bruises from the last fight he had in the Outback and the rough way Cory had treated him afterwards blazed out at her against his uncharacteristically pale skin.

His hands drifted listlessly by his sides, supported fully by the liquid, as the rest of him was. He lay there as motionless as he had been when she brought him to the hospital across town and was promptly pulled away by the burly Starlight bodyguards. Only his hair moved with the liquid, the wild black tresses he’d always kept pulled back fanned out around his head. Did it look just a little lighter, perhaps a dark brown instead of its usual jet black? Chase couldn’t tell, just thought it was.

Something flashed just above her line of vision, and that’s when she took full notice of the monitors. One showed the damage to Psly in total. She brought her hands to her lips, gasping slightly at the extent of the destruction. She couldn’t understand it all—the numbers, the obscure terms (Phoenix Reborn?), the total system fallout Pslyder had suffered.

“Oh God, poor Psly,” she murmured, running her hand along the edge of the tank, directing her speech to him for the first time in the ten minutes she sat there looking at him. “Hey, big guy…I’ll tell ya, I’ve seen better looking cabbages after they’ve been cooked.” She chuckled, the humor and the laugh both sounding hollow in the cavernous chamber, no response from Psly other than the sound of the liquid bubbling.

She looked at the monitor on the left that detailed all that had to be repaired on him, then looked to the left, frowning slightly. A blonde, green eyed man that looked like Psly’s fraternal twin was pictured there, and as she moved closer to look, she realized that she was looking at what had to be an “after” picture. Psly would be so different... but were his looks the only thing that would change?

[PslyderFTA]

Standing inside the B&B gym, Psly ran his new hand through his short blond hair. Everything was dark, matching his mood these days. Everything about him was off, it seemed. . .his reactions still seemed based on how he used to be. He still couldn't get used to the fact that he was now lighter, smaller. . .and slower. His mind still wanted to move a body that was built for carrying armor, heavy weapons, and the occasional unconscious body.

It was time for retraining.

Chase had dropped him off just moments ago, and still looked perplexed by the sword he'd left with her. As far as he was concerned, that little piece of his old life was best gone and forgotten, along with several other things he'd pitch when he got back to his garage.

But first things were first. Reaching over in the dark, he hit the switch for the overhead lights, wincing slightly as they flared to life. No light compensation. . .yet something else to get used to all over again. His light green eyes blinked back a reflexive tear or two. Making his way to the exercise area, he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it in the general direction of the lounge. He'd have to start off small again.

The new and remodeled Pslyder began to stretch.

[PslyderFTA]

Sitting in the sauna, Psly reflected on the effectiveness of his training so far. Flexing a little and wincing at the soreness in his arms, he figured at this rate, he might be up to speed sometime around Doomsday.

He was needing help, and in a big way. Thinking for a moment, then cursing as he once again fell into old habits. He didn't have his implants anymore. No more mental lists. No more perusing memories on a picture-in-picture in his field of vision. No more lifting engine blocks for fun.

No more built in protection.

'Great,' he thought as he toweled himself dry, 'on top'a all tha rest'a this crap, Ah've gotta learn all tha rest all tha frag over again. Jus' whaht Ah need. . .'

Throwing his sweatsuit back on, he ventured back out into the gym's workout area.

Breaktime was over. Time to go to work.

[PslyderFTA]

The door to the old garage creaked open with some minor difficulty. It had been some time since this particular door moved at all. Most things coming out of this garage left via the underground shipping tunnel directly to the shop in downtown Rhy'Din. He casually sniffed the air, dusty and slightly stale. Then he snorted.

Two nights since his last appearance in the Outback. Two nights since two duelists took it easy on the "invalid".

By the spirits, if he was going to retrain, he was going to retrain right.

Leather creaking, he moved to the now dust-covered telecom, and powered it up. Keying in an old code, he heard the distant sound of locks disengaging and servomotors whining in protest. The floor and one section of the wall split, shifted slightly, then slid entirely out of the way of the small elevator rising from underneath the garage.

One overhead light clicked on, and a dust cover slid to the floor. Standing there was a sleek creation in black and chrome. Phosphorescent light gleamed off the enclosing canopy, winking along the metal adorning the rack which now comprised the wall.

Time to gear up and go hunting.

[PslyderFTA]

Sitting once more in the cool, dusty calm of his old garage, he looked down at his hand, flexing it from time to time into a fist. He was older than he looked now. . .much older than anyone realized. Experience and hardship had given his soul years beyond this new shell of a body. Then, the sound of it echoing in the stillness, he laughed.

Because for all the self-righteous prattle he'd droned on about not looking for his past glories, here he was, going after another Opal. But this time, he was searching not for power, nor for glory, as some might think. He knew power was fickle, and glory fleeting. No, this time, it was for something different.

This time, he was searching for something to cool the pain he still felt in his soul. Something to replace the sense of detachment his old implants used to grant him. Especially since besides the data transfer device implanted behind his ear, he could no longer travel the path of the cyber-enhanced.

This time, he was searching for his focus.

Once again, it was time to train. But for this, he needed to train the spirit, not the body. For it would be his spirit in the end that would be his savior.

Quietly, he murmured to himself, "If'n Ah cain't buy mah way faster, Ah'll jus' hafta find some other way, neh?"

[PslyderFTA]

Upon returning to his garage, he tossed the duster onto a nearby couch. Heading over to the weight set, he didn't even bother to change out of the rest before grabbing up his weights, starting up an easy set of reps to work the stiffness out while he ran things over in his mind.

His mistakes stood out to him like a gussied up trollop standing on church row. But he didn't ponder on those long. The fact that they happened at all spoke volumes to him.

Very well, the dirty blond elf thought to himself, time to train while I work down my list.

Very softly, he spoke into the dim lighting of the garage.

"Guess blue weren't mah color after all, neh?"

[PslyderFTA]

It was only a matter of time. . .

Psly, of all people, knew that. It was only very seldom that the past stayed dead and buried where it should be. Taking that into account might be why he was sitting in his garage, looking at the layout of gear on the long table.

Knives, grapnel hook and rope, silenced dart gun, more knives, his new mace. . .

. . .the Stealth Suit. . .

That last item was one of the final things produced during his stint with the Starlight Foundation. . .along with the myriad fabrication robots in his subterrainean factory. His bikes were still fetching a pretty penny in other markets, thanks to a chance connection through the spaceport on the outskirts of Rhy'Din proper.

But the Stealth Suit. . .that was genius. Pure, unadulterated, plagarized genius. Borne from the plethora of movies and anime he'd devoured as a child, the Suit was a combination strength booster, armor weave, and camoflauge device, all rolled into one.

And it fit rather comfortably under regular clothing, too. . . So much so that no one he'd fought with over the past couple weeks had even noticed its presence. One could almost say, it was invisible.

It seemed wrong to him on one level, though. . .to regress back to relying on technological wonders to get him through the myriad adventures he called normal day-to-day living.

But soon. . .soon the solution to that would present itself. . .he could feel it.

Soon the only sound was of the anachronistic elf muttering softly to himself. . .

"Be nice if'n it'd hurry on up an' get heah. . ."




Now, all there was to do was wait. Sooner or later, someone would need his particular brand of expertise. Sooner or later. . .

[PslyderFTA]

Sweat poured off the elf as he continually drilled himself on the new techniques he found in the book Shard had given to him. Tonight was the Talon of Redwin tournament. Honestly speaking, he didn't care whether he won or lost, but simply wanted to see where he ranked in the end.

Shard's confession of feelings for him came as a surprise. Even this long after the accident, he didn't feel "attractive".

Finishing the kata in the same position as he started, the elf closed his eyes and stood there, breathing, opening himself to whatever secrets the universe was willing to grant him.

There were so many it had already taken away, after all.

[PslyderFTA]

After placing the mace in its honored niche upon his wall and stretching some very worn out muscles, the elf pondered the previous night's events.

He finished second.

Not too shabby, considering his past record with weapons duels. . .street brawling and hand-to-hand seemed more his style these days. Which is probably why he advanced so far, considering the new styles he'd been studying in the book Shard had given to him.

He shut someone out in doing so.

That. . .came as an honest surprise, especially when weighed against Lothar's performance against Vinny the round prior. For that man to say Psly was fast. . .well. . .it was almost enough to make him blush.

Chase was happy for him.

No big shocker there. . .Chase seemed to revel in her "big bro's" happiness. Even if she did embarrass the drek out of him.

Shard wanted him.

And therein, lies the shocker. The elf turned to the mirror, tilting his head to the side as he gave himself the once-over. He still thought of himself as too thin, too light, and too weak. Yeah, so he was getting faster. Big whoop-dee-doo. But. . .

Perhaps. . .one of these days. . .he just might feel confident enough again to pursue that off chance. Maybe.

But first. . .there was work to be done.

The elf smiled and began whistling as he turned to the sleek creation in the garage, just waiting for the final adjustments and the new coat of paint.

[PslyderFTA]

<<Post removed, as it was a repeat. We apologize for the inconvenience.>>

[PslyderFTA]

Psly rolled up to the door of the Garage, keying in his code on his console to open the main door. Hanging up his vest, he looked around at his home. It definitely looked the part of the swinging bachelor’s pad.

Stepping over to the hallway closet door and opening it, he shrugged off the vest, making sure to keep the mace in place, and hung the vest on one of the available hangers before slipping through the hidden door in the back of the closet. All was dark, but not so bad to his special eyes, before stepping into a room filled with soft lighting and computer screens.

Displays of various sectors of the city were arranged around the seat, some moving, others stationary. Scattered amongst these were tactical displays, sensor readings, aerial photography, satellite imagery, and production quotas.

He did have the work of the Starlight Foundation to continue, after all. . .

[PslyderFTA]

Few, if any people knew of the Starlight Foundation's surveilance network. Three score Human Emulation Androids almost continuously patrolled the city in various guises. Small aerial drones flitted back and forth across the stratosphere, in the guise of birds, providing vast amounts of topographical, geological, and thermal information. Supplimental camera and microphone transcievers dotted the countryside, along with several carefully cultivated underground contacts in and around the area of Badside provided much needed information on the criminal element of Rhy'Din.

And sitting at the center of all of this was one of the few people in the city interested in processing all of said information.

It was almost a sobering thought to the "elf" as he scanned the various screens, paying attention to one in particular. One where the testing of a new weapon system was taking place. Idly, he twirled one of the shells from said device between nimble fingers. It was a heavy object, nearly the length of a good belt knife, but infinitely more deadly in the right circumstances.

In the morning, he would begin the most intense part of the training of his special task force in the Guard. How to blend in and remain unnoticed while immersed in one of the most paranoid sectors of town. But for now, Pslyder had a much bigger problem.

Thermographic scanning of the city had revealed at least one potential dilemma. One, that the fires striking fear into the denizens of the city appeared to have more than one potential source, but at least one source Psly felt he knew, much to his dismay.

Dragons.

Psly just loathed dragons. . .

"One thang's fer sure," Psly said to himself quietly in the electron-lit darkness, "Ain' nothin' good gon' come from this. . ."

[Shard]

Shard realised that she really didn't know that much about Psly. It was kind of disconcerting, considering how she had basically spilled her guts to him.

But, she was afraid. And she was alone. Psly was the one person who might be able to help her adjust to the world that she found herself literally thrown into.

The changes in her body didn't help. This new version of herself, what she had deemed her "Morpheus" seemed to reflect her true self. Dark, deliberating, and much more powerful than she understood.

Her new form also accorded her some interesting new powers. Her ability to see in the dark had grown in both forms, and that was what was helping her track Psly through the alleyways of Rhydin.

What also helped was that she could become invisible. Literally, untraceable by any means.

She had something to tell Psly.

Truth is, she has been playing innocent this entire time. Night by night, she watched, and she waited, gathering information about the citizens of Rhydin, and writing it all down in one of her books. Not to mention all the scouting out that she had done, also written down.

She had a feeling Psly might want to look over the information she had, so that's why she followed him. At least, that's why she convinced herself that she was following him.

He entered his garage, and she moved in behind him, watching him as he walked to a closet, and opened a hidden door.

She should have been surprised, but she wasn't. Psly was secretive, in his own way, but she had a fondness for him that envolved more than a simple friendship. It was the first time she felt this way.

She watched as he sat down at a console of computers, showing maps of Rhydin, and other interesting things. She studied the room for a moment, steeling herself.

He wasn't going to like this.

Concentrating, she made herself manifest again behind him.

(TBC)