Chrono Trigger: Twins of Destiny Chapter 12

Behinds the Scenes

By Mox Jet

M-1 Compound


            “You know,” Tyrion said.  “I’m again not quite sure why I’m putting my life on the line in an active mission before I’ve had even the slightest bit of training in any of the uses of Armours.


            Tyrion and Lina sat in one of the few cafeterias located in the M-1 Compound.  Their table, much like most of the furniture in the compound, was made of stainless steel, and shone of the hard military tradition that had crafted it.  Around them, other soldiers bustled about, speaking of their business, but no one sat down with them.  Tyrion thought Lina was a deterrent for company, which wasn’t always a bad thing.  Lina apathetically stared up from the plate full of food in front of her.


            “Do you always moan this much about death?” she asked him.


            “Wouldn’t anyone moan as much about dying?” he asked.  She shrugged and went back to eating.  They had come here not so much that Tyrion had to eat –the energy bar that Tristan had given him had filled him up surprisingly well- but because Lina wanted a ‘snack.’  Tyrion hadn’t expected her definition of a snack to be an all-inclusive meal.  Her explanation was that using psychic energy took a lot out of you, though he was still pondering that, as she hadn’t used any real display of power yet today, but was still consuming enough to feed a platoon.


            “How do you stay so skinny when you eat that way?” he asked her.  She didn’t respond, aside from a grunt that might have been conceived to be a response.  He rolled his eyes, opening up the folder that had been given to him by Kay.  In it was a series of papers, the top one containing a bulleted list of objectives, with the red letters ‘Top Secret’ displayed in the background.  Thumbing through the contents, there were some detailed technological readouts of the shielding devices, as well as photos of the target and a description of the virus they were to upload into the computer systems.


            There also was a list of approved equipment that could be carried on the Armours that they would be taking.  His Armour, as expected, was already predetermined to be Cyoren, and the weapons also seemed to be already picked.


            “So…” he started to say.  “How will I know how to use one?”


            “One what?”


            “An Armour,” he responded.


            “The same way you use your muscles,” she answered, still not looking up from her dish.  “There’s a cranial scan mechanism that reads your intentions and moves the Armour along with the movement that would otherwise simply govern actions in your muscles.  Basically, all you have to do is try to walk like you would otherwise do, and the Armour will walk with you.”


            “That’s it?” he asked.


            “Be lucky you’re not from Denegrad,” she said.  “Their Armours aren’t so advanced.  Their Armour troops actually have to have a socket grafted into the back of their head at the base of their brain stem that lets them interface with the Armour through an electrical plug in.”  Tyrion briefly cringed in the thought of what such an implant might feel like.  Shaking his head in hopes of forgetting, he flipped through some of the other pages.  He pulled out one black and white surveillance photo.


            “This installation looks like it’s pretty far inland, like we were told,” he said, looking at the large photo, which was a map of the area surrounding the installation.  “How exactly are we going to get there?”


            “Airdrop,” Lina said again, speaking without swallowing first.  “They’ll fly us over and we’ll skydive in.”


            “Ah…” Tyrion said.  Oh good, so at least we’ll be having fun before we do this.  I’ve always wanted to go skydiving anyway….  He continued to pass through the folder, but he felt like he was getting the general gist.  Their orders were relatively simple, he thought.  Nothing more complicated than any Nisai Ryu training exercise, anyway.  As promised, it seemed to be simple infiltration, which he knew how to do, and then following maps that would be displayed on their HUD screens inside their Armours.  All the uploading of the computer virus required was that the disk that contained it be inserted into the proper slot; the Armour’s onboard computer would aid this, too.  Then, they would exit and meet the pickup ship.  The other team that they would be working with was responsible for the demolition of the site.  How complicated could following directions be?


            Lina continued to eat ravenously.  She soon cleared her plate and picked up her glass of water, chugging it down and then slamming the empty glass on the table.


            “Ready?” she asked him, looking refreshed.


            “For what?”


            “We’re done here,” she said.


            “So what now?”


            “You meet your Armour,” Lina said.  She grinned, jumped up from the table and trotted off in the opposite direction.  Tyrion looked perplexed for a moment before finally rising up and following her, head hung low.  He momentarily toyed with his hair before rolling his neck to the side, cracking the bones that had become stiff from lack of movement.  He had never before seen someone eat for that long in his entire life.




            Lina didn’t take him to the Armour Hanger, because the Armours were no longer there.  They had been moved, as she explained, to a place called the Prep Room, or PR as she called it.  Armours that had been designated for missions that would soon depart were always taken here so that they could be refitted and their selection of weapons and options be confirmed.  Tyrion’s Cyoren would already be fitted with weapons that had been chosen for him, based on what knowledge they knew he had of hand-to-hand fighting.


            Tyrion had originally been given the impression that this Prep Room was smaller than the Hanger.  While this was true, it was by no means ‘small’ in his definition of the word.  The PR was actually a rather large room about two stories high and looked to be the size of a small warehouse.  The upper story, since Armours were only about the size of a man, was filled with robotics technology, the likes of which Tyrion had never seen, all stretching down to do modifications on the Armours.  The Armours themselves lined the walls and were seemingly locked into mechanical strapping systems.  In addition to the robotics that acted on them from above, men were tending to each one, plugging numbers into computers and running tests.


            He didn’t make the important connection that this room was only used for handling Armours that were going out on assignment within the next 24 hours, and that there had to be at least a hundred of the things being tended to.  If the groups that took part in missions were so small (his only numbering four people), then the number of missions that M-1 actually sent out in a day was incredible.  One might assume that they were not all being sent to the front, and because of that the number of Armours in battle was not actually that high.  But, when one takes into consideration that there were other larger bases scattered throughout the world, then the span of M-1’s military actions was rather huge.  Truth be told, ever single Armour in this room was going to be taking part in a type of mission that was similar to Tyrion’s: small scale and highly secretive.


            Granted, Lina couldn’t have even known where all the Armours were going to go.  The bureaucracy of M-1 was its other  incredible factor.  She had been right when she had called it as such, because it was conceivable that there was not even one man who knew what every single one of these missions was aimed at.  There were committees within committees within sub-commands of high-commands of even more decision making bodies.  How the entire organization stayed coherent was a mystery and a miracle, or so Lina had hypothesized for a very long time.


            The only people that might have a clue as to what the entirety of the organization was doing  might be the Contract Committee.  These were the ones responsible for negotiating the contracted jobs with M-1, but there were certain firewalls put up even here to prevent any one person from knowing about all of the contracts out at a given time.  There was, assumable, some purpose to having all these precautions.  It more than likely had to do with client-confidentiality, but there wasn’t really anyone in the organization that didn’t know that M-1 was working for Lyons.  In truth, there must have been some other purpose.


            Lina led Tyrion across the floor and down the far left isle, pointing to various machines, naming them and what they were capable of.  She pointed out her favorites, her least favorites, her little pet peeves with Armours, and, more than anything else, which were her weapons of choice.  She led him down the isle, moving towards a port that was filled with the blue-black Armour that Tyrion had seen before in the hanger when he first entered the building with Kallar. 


            “And here’s Cyoren,” Lina said, walking Tyrion slowly over to the blue-black Armour on the left wall.  It appeared to be ready for combat, as no technicians were working on it.  He finally got a good look at the thing.  It was about his height (which, it occurred to him, might be one reason Lina couldn’t use it) and appeared to foster a metallic shine, but in the same regard, it sometimes seemed to absorb light. 


            The actual armor plating was mostly black, with occasional traces of blue.  The only non black or blue part of the body was the eye slots.  Those, slightly hidden under a protruding forehead plate, glowed of deep crimson.  From the ears sprouted extensions that were probably housing for communications units, but they looked to almost be small wings.  As he moved his eyes down, examining the equipment in further detail, he noted that he could not even see the differentiations between the joints of plating.  The metalwork seemed to flow together, making the suit of protection look as if it were always simply one piece of material. 


            Tyrion followed the form down the ridges of the chest plate, down the tight lines of the abdomen and then back up the lengths of the arms.  The left and right arms both seemed to be equipped with some form of extension that connected to the body on the forearms.  While the same color as the rest of the Armour, they looked to be not to have been made as one with it.


            “They’re the weapons couplings,” Lina said, knowing where he was looking.  “The actual Armour didn’t have any weapons.  Those particular units are called Lightning Claws.  They're basically a projection of kinetic energy held in place by a series of arc waves.  They’ll rip apart anything you get into close combat with.  Just use them like you’d use your fists in a fight.”


            “Got it,” Tyrion said, slowly moving forward and extending his arm to touch the upper right chest plate of the machine.  As his fingers contacted the metal skin, he was surprised to find the metal cold to the point where his fingers might freeze simply through contact.  It almost felt like it sucked the life out of him.  He closed his eyes and waited a moment.  In an odd sense, he felt somehow that there was something connecting him to this machine.  Something that was telling him that he had seen it at some event before, in another time, in another life.  There was something in it that was living and he could feel the rhythm of the machine in the rumblings through his fingers.  His own heart started to beat with the lifebeat of Cyoren, and he could feel the metal getting hotter…


            “Woah!” he said, pulling his hand away as the metal had begun to heat up.  “What did it do that for?”


            “It got…hot?” Lina asked, not sure if she understood his thoughts.  She quickly extended her fingers to find what the commotion was about but found the machine to be icy cold.


            “It’s feels pretty cold to me,” she said.


            “No way,” he said, quickly and bluntly extending his hand and gripping the shoulder pad.  It was, as Lina had described, cold as ice.


            “I could have sworn it was hot just a second ago…” he said as he slowly withdrew his hand.  “…Weird.”


            “Anyway,” Lina went on.  “Getting into it is easy because you don’t actually do anything.  They way it works is that we give you with an electronic identification bracelet and that identification becomes the tag that we use to actually ‘beam’ the suit onto you.”


            “How does that work?” he asked, feeling very dumb.


            “To be honest,” Lina said, “I’m not quite sure.  I think it has to do with deconstructing the suit’s molecular strata, turning into electronic code, and then restructuring it.  Straight up, I have no real idea how it works.” 


            Tyrion shrugged.  “Well,” he said, “I guess ignorance is bliss.”  He touched the machine again, halfway expecting the heat to have returned, but it was still icy cold.


            “We have to be ready to go not that long from now,” Lina said.  “The main brief is in just a few hours.  Why don’t you go back to your room and try to settle in?


            “I think I might do that,” Tyrion said, withdrawing his hand from Cyoren for the third time.  “I still have to unpack.”


            “I’ll see you at 1600,” Lina said.  “Think you’re capable of finding your room on your own?”


            “No,” Tyrion said.  “But I’ll give it a try.”


            “Good,” Lina said.  “Then I’ll see you then.”  She spun around and walked away, using that same soldier gait that was the only thing that made her seem like anything but a little girl.  It was beginning to piss Tyrion off to all hell.




            While the time Tyrion spent dawdling away in his room was not the most productive thing he had ever done, it had served as a period of trying to compile in his head just what had been going on.  It had only been two or three days, he knew, but even just the past few hours seemed like weeks.  He knew now that he had been drawn, or suckered (he wasn’t quite sure, yet), into this group of mercenaries who, as it would seem, all had their own little hidden agendas that certainly didn’t seem to include saving the world from harm.


            Tyrion started up at the plain ceiling from the confines of his stainless steel bed,the sheets still not being made up.  The air in the room was already beginning to annoy him.  It was stagnant, and almost smelled like a prison cell.  He couldn’t help but feeling trapped in this windowless little room with oppressive furniture.  As he looked at the ceiling, all he could think about was just how helpless he felt in a world that seemed to have all of its own intentions, dragging him along for a joy ride he wasn’t even sure he had agreed to.  It was a helpless feeling indeed.




            It was only a matter of hours before Tyrion found himself back in the briefing room with Lina looking at him with that same funny look of hers.  Along Lina’s right side were two other soldiers, a man and a woman.  Tyrion hadn’t really been introduced to him, and he just as soon assumed that this was merely M-1 custom.  The room seemed brighter than before.  Maybe more of the lights were on to give a less sinister feeling.  The wood of the tables still seemed almost alive, but the lacquered surfaces made it seem like a conference room of any corporation. 


            The TV screens on the walls had been covered with black paneling that had slid out of some unknown point.  The four agents sat on the outside of the circular table, dividing their stares from the man standing in front of them and the mission dossiers that sat on the tables.  In front of them, Kay was talking to the assembly, giving what were basically last minute instructions.  He had expected them to read the dossiers, though, so his instructions were brief.  He took the time to finish the session up and allow for questions.  They would take turns raising their hands, and Kay would call on them, quickly informing them of their apparent ignorance.


            “How do we deal with assessed threats?” one of the soldiers, a tall, broad man with deep set eyes and a crooked nose, asked.


            “We’d like to actually refrain from causing too many casualties,” Kay said.  “Most of the people working there will be technicians.  The base, due to its secure location, and given the situation on the front, should not be too heavily guarded.”


            “So aim for military personal only?” the other soldier, this one a woman, nearly as tall as Tyrion with short blonde hair asked. 


            “In the ideal,” Kay answered.


            “The ideal never happens in the field,” Lina felt it proper to point out.


            “The close to ideal,” Kay corrected himself.  “Aim for the close to ideal.”  Kay gazed around.  “Any other questions?”


            “How difficult will it be to load the virus,” the tall man said.


            “That’s Lina’s responsibility,” Kay said.  “You don’t have to worry about it.”


            “That’s exactly what I am worried about,” the tall man said, jokingly teasing the short statured psychic.  Lina narrowed her eyes, but made no retort.


            “The dropship will depart at 1700,” Kay said bluntly.  “You will make ground-fall at 1735.  M-1 has allotted your team of Grey Knights forty five minutes to perform your mission, then be ready to be removed from the area.”


            “Will that be enough time?” Tyrion asked.  “What if we meet more resistance than originally estimated?”


            “Catching on quick, eh?” Kay looked at Tyrion.  The blue haired man shrugged.


            “Just trying to show intelligence.”


            “Don’t try too hard,” Kay said.  “Listening to your head, rather than orders, can get you killed.  But, if you must know, we’ll be monitoring your progress as best we can.  If more resistance is met, reinforcements will be delivered as quickly as possible.”  Tyrion nodded in apparent approval.


            The room was devoid of further questions.  Kay gazed around briefly.  He placed his hands behind the back and spun around.  “You may proceed now to the PR.  Prepare to depart by 1700.”  He turned around again to face them.


            “Dismissed,” he said curtly.  The four rose and saluted, twirling around in unison and exiting them room.  A dry wind almost seemed to blow from the corridor, but that didn’t seem to be possibly.  Tyrion, forth on line, followed the other three.  It wasn’t as if he could find his was back to the PR on his own, so he fell into step.  No words were exchanged and no sounds were emitted, save for the echoing of their shoes on the cold floor. 


            Military efficiency, he though.  If it doesn’t drive me insane, at least it’ll save me from being killed.  He marched off in following Lina and two people who’s names he didn’t even know.  What have I gotten myself into?  I swear, somebody will feel pain for Rachel’s death.  Then, this will be worth it




Location Unknown


            A smell of cleanness beyond clean filled the dimly lit, nicely furnished conference room.  Towards the head of a large, mahogany table, a tall man stood with his back facing the rest of the room.  He wore a dark coat that stretched to his knees, though that was all that could be seen of his uniform from the vantage point of the rest of the men around the table.  They all were dressed in coats of similar style, though the colors differed from man to man.  Black berets capped off the heads of some of the men sitting in the chairs. 


            The room itself was extremely ornate.  The marble walls and pillars were coated with tapestries and paintings depicting scenes of victory in battle.  The pillars, made in styles of eras long past, had engravings on each of their bases.  There were no windows, and the only source of light was that coming from candles that were placed in the proper locations around the room.


On the wall which the tall man now faced, a large coat of arms was displayed.  It was the picture of a giant bird with spikes protruding from its wings, colored in black, blue, and gold.  Perhaps the tall man pondered the image of the crest before him, taking a moment to think about what it symbolized as he considered what he was about to say.  Perhaps he was just waiting for the rest of the room to become quiet as he combed his hand through his short, thick, blue hair. 


The men behind him finally quieted down, settling into their black, leather chairs.  Slowly, the blue haired man turned around to face them. 


His face was one that seemed to have endured much torture in its existence.  His eyes, deep purple, were set far back into his head, his brow protruding slightly from his forehead.  His hair was neatly combed, save for two strands which managed to sneak their way down his forehead and over the brim of his left eye.  His jaw was tight, and he almost seemed to grind it against his skull as a sign to people that he was angry that he was forced to wait.  He swept his black coat behind him, and walked up to the table.


“We are here,” he began.  “To discuss the recent activities amongst our little pets in Lyons and Denegrad.”  His voice was a high tenor, with hints of sophistication and arrogance simply in his first sentence.  “Because, as you know, we’ve had some difficulties dealing with situations with the both of them.” 


The man did not sit, but rather began to pace around the table.


“First order of business will be the one called Tyrion,” he said.  “As we’ve come very close to him.” 


“With regard to that, Darius,” one man said.  The man called Darius halted. 


“What?” he snapped.


“We’ve…had some activity from the spy which we’ve been following.  Recently, he sent a transmission to an as of yet unknown location.  In it, we discovered the plans as to the Air Defense assault.”


“Our test mission for Tyrion,” Darius stated.




“We don’t know where it was going?”


“No.”  Darius paused.


“Well, why in God’s name not?” he asked, slightly angered.


“It was…directed to seemingly nowhere,” the man said.  “We traced it off to a location somewhere outside of the Celes atmosphere, perhaps to an undiscovered Denegrad Satellite, but the information simply disappeared about 30 seconds after transmission.”


“Who’s been working to find out where it went?” Darius said.


“We’ve had men on it around the clock since it happened.”


“I detest that cliché,” Darius mumbled.  He paused.  “Regardless, continue with that and report back as soon as possible.”  He began to pace again.  “As expected, then, it would appear that he was a Denegrad spy.  The information was probably used to prompt their forces as to the coming attack.”


“As you expected,” the other man said.


“Of course, as I expected,” Darius said. “Now we’ll actually have a real test for the boy without having to pass it through this goddamned bureaucracy…”


“He might die.”


            “Of course not.  He has the blood of the Chosen,” Darius said complacently.  “As if simple Denegradians could kill him.”


            “Then what of his brother?”




            “We’re still not close to apprehending them.  Our bluff to the En’Kai, while working out as planned, did not yield his capture.”


            “And how is it that we’re losing battles to these En’Kai if they can’t capture a single man?” Darius asked.


            “The Nisai Ryu got involved,” the man said.  “There was intervention by one of the Grand Masters.  He…removed them from the Temple’s location and we have yet to find their new place of hiding.”


            “Damn those cursed bastards,” Darius said.  “Them and their silly games…”


            “Also,” the man continued.  “The En’Kai reported that the Holy Weapon was not there anymore.”  Darius froze.


            “The Crystain blade…gone?”


            “Yes, sir.”  Darius’s eyes momentarily widened.


            “So Teclis has it…” Darius muddled.


            “Yes, sir.”


            “…Damn.”  Silence filled the room after the last remnants of speech echoed off the marble walls.  The air murmured momentarily, then was still.


            “We are, of course, looking for them with all of our forces,” a man with a beret said.  “Some 125 Armours have been ordered dispatched to aid in the search.  We should have him within days.”


            “We don’t have days, you fool,” Darius said, lowering his head. 


            “We have as long as we need!” a new voice from the far left corner of the room.  Down the stairs that met the entrance, a woman with long blue hair and impressive robes colored in the same black, gold, and blue of the room, came into the room with a flamboyant entrance.  The men around the table stood up, and Darius lowered his head.


            “Queen Jara,” Darius said  “We are happy to see you’ve made the trip.”


            “Don’t feed me formalities, Darius,” Jara said.  “I’ve traveled to far to eat your shit.”  The obscenity brought about an eerie silence.


            “As you wish, your Highness,” Darius said, bowing curtly.  “Perhaps…it is better anyway if we are to get to business and not worry about such piddle.”


            “You can’t rush proper work,” Jara said.  “This little of causing of more bloodshed in hopes of more complete battle results is a rush job.  His genetic code is useless to us unless he’s alive, you flagrant idiot.  You can’t perform experiments involving Lifestream tests if he’s dead.”


            “He won’t die,” Darius retorted.  “I can guarantee you that.”


            “Based on what evidence?” Jara said.  “Man was able to kill Adrekel, the Son of God.  Don’t think that one of his Avatars would be immune to the powers of Man.”


            “I didn’t say-”


            “You said enough.  You’re lucky Geminus doesn’t wish your death for this.  It is only because He seems confident in Tyrion’s abilities as well.”


            “With good reason…” Darius mumbled under his breath.


            “Regardless, we’ll have to make do with what is done.”  The two exchanged dark gazes. 


            Darius began to pace around again.  “Monitor the motion of the Denegrad military over the course of the next forty minutes.  We’ve picked up subtle signs of movement, but perhaps they wish to catch us by surprise.  Any indication of En’Kai activity, though, should lead to forcing their actions away from Tyrion and his unit.  Those soldiers might be able to kill him.”


            “What if this transmission, which you are so sure was directed to Denegrad Intelligence, didn’t actually make it there?” Jara asked.  “Are we basically operating on the guess that our spy is from Denegrad?  Why have we ruled out the Outer Continents so quickly?”


            “Because we’re not at war with them, your Majesty,” Darius answered.  That is why we have ruled out the Outer Continents.  Information in the past has lead us to convincing proof that they are not foolish enough to attempt to intervene.”  Jara furrowed her brow and gazed again at Darius.


            “Is there anything else?” Jara asked, “that you feel we should do?”


            “No, Highness,” Darius said.  “That is my only advisory at the time.”


            “Hmph,” Jara said.  “Then I’ll be leaving.  I have the rest of a war to orchestrate.”  The Queen spun around, her robes kicking up into the air, and proceeded back towards the stairs which she had entered via.  Her shoes tapped against the stone steps, the sound echoing sharply against the marble walls.  Those in the room could hear the door open, then close, marking Jara’s exit as quickly as it had marked her entrance.  There was a brief pause on Darius’s part as he waited to make sure that Jara was far gone.


            “This meeting is adjourned,” he said, lowering his head.  He felt a minor victory, slightly edging out Jara in their brief debate, but something was still missing.  There was still something that he yearned for.


            Slowly, the men in the room rose out of their seats and walked towards the door, each taking turn to deliver a nod towards Darius as an exchange of exiting formality.  The group, made up over about 16 people, shuffled toward the steps that marked the exit.  One by one, they left the room, the echo within the hall diminishing with each passing step.  The reverberations slowed down to a hush until there was no one left besides Darius, who stood in silence, his face illuminated by the waning candle light.


            “This country is going to hell,” he thought out loud, walking around the table to an alcove on the right wall where there was a hung a picture of a man with a long beard.  Darius let out a sigh, waving his hand across the eyes of the man in the picture.  There was a slight grinding noise and the wall with the picture on it mechanically slid to the right, revealing a passage.


            The passage was in stark contrast to the room he was in. As opposed to the fancy marble walls with pillars and tapestries, the walls of the passage were pale blue, with stainless steel bars running lengthwise across the walls and ceiling.  Small slits in various locations lit the room with an unnatural purple glow.  The same amethyst veins of energy ran across the floor.  Darius, exhaling softly, entered the passage and the wall closed behind him.


            As Darius walked down the corridor, his step picked up pace until he came to another door.  This one, however, slid open as he walked up to it.  The second door had opened to reveal a circular room of the same blue and steel walls that made up the passageway.  Purple light continued to flow within the walls, and the light veins on the floor split to form concentric circles towards the perimeter of the chamber.  At the center of the room was a small, circular platform with three steps leading up to it.  It was, for practical sake, the only item in the room.


            The blue haired man walked to this circular platform, climbed its steps and stood in the middle of it. As he closed his eyes, the purple lights in the room began to come alive and energies seemed to flow through them with intensity.  The light grew brighter, and as it did, the air in the room began to surge with the same power as the light.  From the central pillar, a white line began to trace itself upward, through Darius and towards the ceiling.  As it reached the receiving end, the line spread apart to form a circle, and Darius was enveloped in the energy. 


            His arms shot out and his head fell back as he opened his mouth and eyes.  The air around him seemed to disappear as it was replaced with other-worldly images that did not mesh with this fabric of reality.  Something had awakened.  The room became very cold as a new presence entered the room.  The ethereal existence only made itself known in the form of an image that was represented in one of the patches of shimmering light that wavered complacently in front of Darius.


            The image in the wavering mists of space was one of something that looked human, save for the face that didn’t have a nose.  Also, its skin was a pale blue representation of the normally beige colored skin of any other human.  Though the entirety of its form could not be seen, it could be told that the figure was reasonably tall, though apparently somewhat lanky, almost emaciated.  Its hair had been replaced by long blue strains of flesh that ran down its back.


            “We’ve had problems,” Darius told the figure as its form became complete.  “And that devil-woman of yours is still getting in my way.”


            “The…boy…?” the thing responded, its voice very raspy and old.  “…It is…eluding you?”


            “Only with what Jara wants to do in inhibiting my search,” Darius said bitterly.


            “She is not…trying to slow…us down,” the voice said, pausing to breathe after each few words.  “She is just….caught up…in her religion.  She is…masked by fabrics…of truth and lies that….you put there.”


            “You blame me?”


            “Not you….Darius.  Your people.  You people.”


            “Then the Church?”


            “The Church…is to blame.  They are always…to blame.”


            “Lord Geminus…” Darius said.  “I cannot acquire the boys for you unless I have the complete cooperation of the Vessel.  She has been more of an impediment than a benefactor over the recent days.”


            “I will…see what I can do,” the thing called Geminus responded.  “She is a very…strong willed woman.  Only so much of my energy can be…occupied…with trying to control her.”  Some energy was coming back to him.


            “I am just warning you,” Darius said.  “That the Avatars can be captured alive if I have complete con-” Geminus cut him off in a sudden burst of anger.


            “You do not need to warn me!” Geminus bellowed, new life seeming to come from some point unknown.  Angered by the insubordination, the image of the figure reared up as his voice became louder.


            I am a child of Terra!” Geminus said.  “I am a direct descendent of Pyriorias.  You do not need to warn me, Darius.  I know what is at stake here.  Remember...where you come from, after all.”  Geminus seemed to breath heavily, tired from exerting himself too much.


            Darius was silent.  He exhaled a long, slow, breath, lowering his head and closing his eyes.


            “…Very well, Lord Geminus,” he said at length.  There was a long pause.


            “What other...findings have their been?” Geminus finally said.


            “We…have established the opportunity to test Tyrion’s strength in battle.  All is going as planned.  As for Teclis, as you know, we’ve momentarily lost his position.  Our forces are all devoted to finding him, though.” 


            “…Very well,” Geminus said.  The figure closed its eyes.  Slowly, the image started to waver until if faded out of view completely.  The energies dissipated away from the central column, then the purple light began to fade.  The image disappeared and the air became still.


            “Yes…” Darius said, his head still lowered.  “Very well, indeed…”




Location Unknown.


            “You still remember our deal?” a voice told Geminus as he returned his mental state to the location in his cavern.


            “Of course,” Geminus said.  “Someone does not…forget something like that…so easily.”


            “They’ve discovered it,” the voice said.  “When will the others see?”


            “When I tell them?”


            “No,” the voice said.  “You don’t tell them.  Understand?”




            “I have you, Geminus,” the voice said.  “Never forget that…”




"The Avatars, the Vessel and Adrekel.  Those were the factors that came together thousands of years ago on Celes to begin to bring about the formation of its current structure.  What does bring about the joining of Gods and Devils?" -The Book of Gar, from the Griever Bible

Chapter 13

Chrono Trigger Fanfic