Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

[Wyldfire]

Shvaughn looked about. Where the Nass was Rokk? He needed to be here to make the call on how this would go down, and then to further make the young S.P. officer feel even better about it all the man walked in. THE sprocking MAN. R.J. Brande. Richer than anyone had a right to be with the biggest guns in the U.P. at his beck and call.

"Well sir, the situation is that we have an Omega distress call from a retired member. His ring is reading zero life signs and it is outside of U.P. jurisdiction." She looked about to see if the team's leader had shown yet, and saw him entering the room.

"I have convinced the U.P. to allow us the use of the threashold gate to get the team there. It's just a matter of assigning who's going in."

 

[ChasNicollette]

"I have convinced the U.P. to allow us the use of the threashold gate to get the team there. It's just a matter of assigning who's going in."

Lightning Lad didn't hesitate in the slightest. "I'm in. I'm already there."

Brainiac Five tapped his chin and moved closer.

"Ring 28," he murmured. "Stewart. No longer active-roster."

Ayla dragged her dubious eyes away from Wildfire, knowing full well his braggart attitude regarding his pushups was a complete mendacity. She'd been in the gym for sprock's sake... She looked at Brainy. (She didn't look at Cham.) "But once a Legionnaire, always a Legionnaire? I mean, no matter he didn't like us all that much when we first met, he earned his spurs and we never would have let him keep the Ring if he still wasn't worthy of it."

Brainiac didn't look at Ayla. He simply shrugged.

"Conceded," he grunted. "I can respect Stewart's sonic disruptive abilities and their vast array of feats. It would take quite a considerable threat to bring him down. As much as I know you all desire desperately to, what's the word, 'gung ho,' toot your bugles and go riding to the rescue, but there's another vernacular term with which I'm familiar: 'half-cocked.' We can't send anyone 'till we know what we're up against. Battles are not won stochastically."

Jaymie raised her hand, tenatively. "Erm. Couldn't we bring up the ring's surveillance, like Jo did for me earlier? Get a look around Ty before we, uh, sprock nass and chew polymorphic fruit snacks except we're all out of polymorphic fruit snacks?"

Brainiac pointed his finger in VM3's direction without glancing at her.

"Give her ladyship a bronze star," he mused. "Is surveillance being jammed in some fashion? A sitrep could prove efficaciously informative."

Jaymie grinned, turned a little red. Gold stars were nearly impossible to come by. Silver stars slightly less so. Bronze stars were far more accessible, but Brainy'd never given her one before.

She almost felt vindicated here in the presence of the Stygian Lord that was her ancestor. She hoped he was proud of her. Or that he'd be proud of her before this was done.

M'onel moved to Brande's side, giving him an apologetic nod. "Forgive my abrupt exit, sir. My rudeness. Time was evidently of the essence. Though in retrospect, it seems you have you own ways of getting around. (You don't have a personal teleport harness, do you? For a man of your years, you make good time.)"

Nodding respectfully to her father and gazing lingeringly at R.J. Brande, Liz then turned to Rond Vidar. "Looks like we're jumping into the fire feet-first. How do you feel about a baptism?"

Rond's eyebrows climbed his forehead, he was white as a sheet. "Time, I take it, is of the essence?"

"Haste makes waste," Liz fired back, cool and quick, "but he who hesitates is lost. I need to know what you're made of and I can't risk leaving you behind now that I've found you. If I'm going on this, you're coming with."

Rond hesitated, but was not lost: "If I'm coming, I need a weapon. Some way to defend myself. You travel back to Revolutionary France, you wear a collar to stop the guillotine. You travel forward to Summer's End..."

Liz held up her fist between them, and her Ring pulsed.

And again, Liz said only a single word: "Spawn."

And in the palm of Liz' cupped right hand, there formed another Power Ring.

Her dark eyes gleamed. "When Lantern John Stewart watched over The Oan Mosaic, he recruited several children from a small town called Desolation caught up in that Mosaic, gave them low-power Power Rings so that they might support his work. I'm giving you the same. Training wheels. It's not capable of much, but it's a little bit better than a Blue Lantern Ring when in the absence of a Green."

She took that Ring between two fingers and offered it to Vidar.

"This is now."

And Vidar took it. "Can't argue with that."

Caroline leaned forward on the conference table, her fists knuckle down against its surface. The table creaked dangerously, but she ignored this.

"Whatever we're up against," she declared boldly, "better have room on their rear ends for a bootprint. Or several."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Conference Room

Rokk skidded into the room in time to hear the last of the sit-rep, and the words of his team. They were ready to go, and thinking before acting.

Damn good team.

"Sorry I'm late, but I got the gist of it. Lantern" He said, looking at Liz, "We would be honored to have your assistance. Jo, I want you, Val, Garth, Powergirl and Brainy through that portal five minutes ago. M'onel, you are my reserve heavy hitter for this. Fate, you and the rest stand by in case we need a second group."

He looked over at his team, his Legionaries. Aside from a look from Timberwolf, everyone was moving into action.

"Excuse me, but do you have a display where you can show me where you are going?" asked Wraith.

Shvaughn pulled up a starchart, then zoomed in. "Here, it's a outpost outside UP space. According to triangulation he was close to here" she pointed at a red dot on the screen, "when his ring went offline."

"Alright people, we got a location, lets go!" said Cosmic Boy. "I'll monitor from here."

"Thank you miss."

Then the shadows in the room enveloped him, and he was gone. An instant later he emerged on the asteroid, ready to face what was there.

 

[Wyldfire]

Asteroid GX-3396.

The fight started. Sort of. Mano and Tharok didn't disengage from the women, but then too they didn't need to. Duplicate boy was very glad he'd shifted to Ultra girl and not any of the kryptonians or Daxamites. He'd been hammered from behind by a burned green flame. "Validus, incoming."

The mountain like Valdius rose and back handed Ord. Damned glad for invulnerability. He hit, bounced, and skidded for nearly a mile. As he rose he saw Validus coming at him.

Before the behemoth could strike he was hit by twin blurs taking him from either side. "Are you still in the game Ord?" Atmos asked as he flew past. Before Duplicate boy could answer Atmos shifted his trajectory and went on an intercept on the Persuader who was casually coming up from the rear.

"Couldn't stand sitting around with those two being do unprofessional," he said as he dodged Atmos. "Only took one thrust for the big one to wake up screaming."

Atmos screamed and tried to redirect himself into the direction of the girls. Just like the Persuader wanted him to do. The axe flashed and an arm flew. Atmos screamed and threw the other arm out into a back hand catching the persuader with a glancing blow.

"Aww, what's the matter kid? Can't stand to think about what's happening to your girlfriend? Or was the girl that turned into gas yours?" Persuader dodged the reckless attacks that were already starting to slow down. It wasn't blood loss, no, the axe didn't work that way. At least not when he wanted it not to. Love that axe, he did. "If the floating gas bag was yours I had to kill her myself. The ugly one's scream woke her up."

Atmos was bling with rage and the beginnings of shock from the loss of his arm. "Bastard, I'll kill you. Should have stuck with messing with the sprocking Legion and their no killing policy."

Yet another scream tore through the area from the direction of the girls. Atmos' head turned to see what it was. The was all the Persuader needed. The axe flashed and Atmos' head flew. "Amatuer." was all the Persuader said as he turned to see who was next.

Dev-Em was in bad shape and he knew it. He was broken in so many places that it was rediculous. But it was a Kryptonian thing to keep on fighting in these kinds of circumstances. Validus was soaking up everything that Dev dished out. Swatting after the speeding Dev-Em.

Ord was too busy to catch any of this as he was busy trying to mount some kind of offense against that damnable eye. Duplicate boy was too busy defending himself to see Atmos' death. He didn't have time to feel the awe and respect Dev was due either. The eye slammed him deep into the ground and as he was climbing out the Empress turned her attention to Validus and said "Oh bloody nass, you misbegotten idiot, would you just die already?"

The eye fired a beam of emerald energy, catching Dev-Em dead on and held him in it. "Now Validus precious, finish this off."

Dev-Em didn't even feel it when the giant fist hammered his now basically human body into the ground. His back had snapped killing him before he even hit the ground.

The Empress turned to watch Ord as he crawled out of the ditch, beaten and bloody even through Ultra girl's invulnerability. He staggered a step towards the Emerald Empress and collapsed as the Threshhold portal opened paces away from him and the first Legionnaires poured through.

 

[Wyldfire]

"Sorry I'm late, but I got the gist of it. Lantern" He said, looking at Liz, "We would be honored to have your assistance. Jo, I want you, Val, Garth, Powergirl and Brainy through that portal five minutes ago. M'onel, you are my reserve heavy hitter for this. Fate, you and the rest stand by in case we need a second group."

He looked over at his team, his Legionaries. Aside from a look from Timberwolf, everyone was moving into action.

Jo didn't need to be told twice. Ultra speed came up and in a blur she had Garth and Val and was heading for the threshhold. "Let's get this sprocking party started already."

"Excuse me, but do you have a display where you can show me where you are going?" asked Wraith.

Shvaughn pulled up a starchart, then zoomed in. "Here, it's a outpost outside UP space. According to triangulation he was close to here" she pointed at a red dot on the screen, "when his ring went offline."

She then turned to Brainiac Five and said "There's some sort of atmospheric disruption going on there. Like a huge Quantum detonation or something. So, no, we have no visual on site."

"Alright people, we got a location, lets go!" said Cosmic Boy. "I'll monitor from here."

"Thank you miss."

Then the shadows in the room enveloped him, and he was gone. An instant later he emerged on the asteroid, ready to face what was there.

 

[ChasNicollette]

"We are (we are) The Youth of The Nation."

Lantern

--Liz nodded. "Thank you, Cosmic Boy."

(Rond slipped the ring onto his finger, and his fanboy cosplay vanished beneath the shimmering materialisation of a Green Lantern trainee uniform.

"Said 'Lantern,'" he murmured, touching the mask that now adorned his face. "Non-specific. Guess that includes me... Lucky me?")--

Jo

--Makes sense, Jaymie nodded firmly, trusting Rokk's judgement--

Val

--VM3 stopped short: Wait, what? He means the other Val, right?--

Garth

--organic and cyborg fists punched the air simultaneously: "Sprock yeah!"

(A muscle in Ayla's cheek twitched. And she comforted herself with the assumption that she was to make herself ready to bail her brother out if need be...)--

Powergirl

--Caroline stood up tall. "I won't let you down."--

Brainy

--Querl simply activated his forcefield. "Still-insufferable hypocorism aside, I am at your disposal."--

M'onel

--M'onel acqueisced. "Of course."

(Ayla felt vindicated by this. Duplicate powers were on standby, on reserve. M'onel was to Powergirl as Lightning Lass was to Lightning Lad.)--

Jo didn't need to be told twice. Ultra speed came up and in a blur she had Garth and Val and was heading for the threshhold. "Let's get this sprocking party started already."

Jaymie squeaked and Garth whooped and they were through, they were through, it was white and it was nothing and they were through...

Powergirl grabbed Brainiac's hand.

Blue eyes met emeralds for a moment. And then she, too, bore her team-mate aloft and they were through the Threshold in less than an instant...

Liz was atop a column of supercompressed jade photons and her thoughts, her thoughts were her afterimage, sent skidding in R.J.'s direction: Watch for me. I'll be back.

And then she was gone.

And then a shimmering verdant hand launched back out through the Threshold and clutched Rond Vidar and pulled him with her, and his yell of surprise was truncated by his disappearance through the gate.

They stood on the rock.

Spinning through space.

(If it's not one asteroid belt, it's another.)

Wraith was there waiting for them.

And so were The Five.

The Five were still Fatal. There were bodies everywhere.

Bodies of friends. Bodies of loved ones. In pieces.

Val froze to the spot. Her eyes were wide. Red, red, wide.

Oh. God.

Should have sent Wildfire...

It was ghastly. Ghostly. Horrendous.

Those poor poor lovely women...

Those men and those women, corpses all.

All of a sudden, Garth Ranzz couldn't think of anything funny to say.

He cracked his knuckles. "Long Live The Legion."

Powergirl saw Ord clambering from the chasm of his own pounding into the rock, and she saw his heart beating in his chest, saw the blood seeping from his wounds cell by cell, and her jaw clenched with force that caused a small shockwave to reverb through the rock beneath her feet.

"Let's Go."

And she flew to Ord's side, still carrying Brainy, set Brainy down in a second that was split, set Brainy down next to Ord. Without thought of it, without even a split-second's consideration, Brainy shared his forcefield with Ord, wrapped the beaten-up but not beaten-down hero in his electromagnogravitic shell.

"You've done sufficiently," Brainiac Five declared. "Let us take it from here."

Powergirl staggered, though, sweat trickling down her brow, and she frowned at The Emerald Eye of Ekron.

"Takes a lot of K-rads to take me down a peg," she wheezed. "Why do I get the feeling this is about to get... interesting?"

Garth sprinted for The Persuader, lightning pouring from his pores, and he hurled all the lightning he had at the axe in The Persuader's hands, trying to use the axe as a lightning rod, trying to fry The Persuader enough to get him to drop the murderous halberd... "HrrrRrrrRRAAAAHHH!"

...Jaymie hurled.

"Oh, God," she mumbled, "they turned Candi into Candi-Floss..."

"Keep it together," Liz growled.

"Be fine, usually fine," VM3 shook her head, waving Liz away, "so many dead, oh God, Atmos, Dev... Candi..."

Green Lantern glanced at Rond. "Mission objective: keep her safe."

Rond nodded, worriedly. "Right."

And took up what he hoped was a defensive posture.

Liz glanced at her father. "Be careful. Don't let the monster with the hands touch you. The axe can cut anything. The half-cyborg is more threatening than even he looks. The giant is the obvious powerhouse. But The Eye is their biggest threat."

But Liz didn't seem frightened.

Not in the slightest.

She pointed her Ring at Caroline and a Ring-aura flashed to life around Powergirl, solidifying into a suit of Ring-conjured armour, classic full-plate... green construct lead. And the visor was polarised, radiation-proof, Caroline could see out but even the simulated K-rads couldn't get in... the armour, nice touch, even had Powergirl's emblem still on the chest...

And then, pillar of light, Liz stood between Powergirl and The Empress.

"Focus on the others. Tharok. Validus. Mano."

"I'll handle this."

And then, to The Empress herself, to The Eye itself, Liz held up the fist adorned with her Ring and grimaced, grimaced deep deep dark dark dark: "Beware my power."

Caroline arched an eyebrow. She felt better already.

But this Lantern lady was sprocking bossy...

"...right."

 

[Wyldfire]

Ultra girl. Oh the wrath of the 'Bor....

Holy sprock. Didn't take Jo long to figure out what the scene was. Still she forced herself to make one ultra speed pass through the entire slaughter field. She passed Dev's limp crushed body (One more reason you big freak. The second the Legion gets rid of the kiddie no kill clause.), Atmos' head almost tripped her up (Stuff that axe where it belongs you bastard.), and then she saw it. Bloody nass. Mano and Tharok. Covered in the gore of the women they'd not only slain. What the nass was wrong with her? Jo's blood was boiling. She'd seen so much as a kid but none of it gave her this kind of feeling. Never had she wanted to hurt anyone as bad as she did now. Mano. He was going to be first.

The madman with the killing touch spun around, blood gushing from the shards of his helmet that cut his cheek and started him suffocating. "breath that" she thought to herself as she blurred away. It took her half a microsecond to realize her hand was bleeding and had a burn across the knuckles. Nass, what had she just done? This was exactly the reason most of the heavys never went after Mano, and here Jo had intentionally isolated him out of the group.

Into her ring com she said "I need some help here. I think I might have just really screwed up. Mano's exposed to the open air. He's a non oxy breather for those that need the flash. I think I might be killing him if someone can't think fast."

Sprockitall Jo get in the game. That was the thought she had just before the huge fist came into her view. She went airborne and managed the switch barely in time. Validus knocked her spaceward.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Fick's Laws of Diffusion and E.S. Posthumus' "Pompeii."

Into her ring com she said "I need some help here. I think I might have just really screwed up. Mano's exposed to the open air. He's a non oxy breather for those that need the flash. I think I might be killing him if someone can't think fast."

Brainiac almost smiled at that.

Almost.

"Please. Thinking fast is what I do for a living."

His hand went into one of his belt's pouches. And pulled out a trans-suit.

His thumb flew over the touch-pad of his PD3, tying this in with the atmo defaults of the trans-suit.

"Right then, Angtu," he muttered to himself, completely detached, "H2SO4, parts per million, carry the one, nudge the kilopascals, just a touch of dissolved oxidised iron, solve for the diffusion coefficient..."

"Greystone," he glanced at Jaymie, and tossed her the trans-suit, sparks flickering as the thing passed out through his field. "When you're done regurgitating your huevos rancheros, would you mind updating Mano's sartorial repertoire?"

Jaymie retched one last time, her hand coming up and snagging the suit from the air. "Onnit."

"I have to stay with you," Rond frowned.

"So stay with me," Jaymie grimaced.

She wasn't a rookie. Sometimes she felt like a rookie. Sometimes she acted like a rookie. She and XS had something of an "eternal rookie" support group thing happening.

Sometimes her fellow Legionnaires treated her accordingly. Like a rookie.

But she wasn't. She really really wasn't.

"Oh my God," she breathed, and took a step, and then another, and her voice turned from quavery to iceberg glacial Antarctic murderous in the space of the beat of a heart, "you killed Candi."

"You bastards."

And she left the ground in a rush and Rond Vidar shook his head and glanced down at his right fist.

"Uh, flight?"

*Flight enabled.*

And with a yelp of astonishment, Rond, too, left the ground. For a moment, utterly disoriented, he almost face-planted again in the asteroid, but then he locked his masked gaze on Valkyrie M3 and willed himself, forced himself, demanded that he stick with her like glue.

He didn't sign up for this.

But after a whole long life of studying the adventures of men and women whose epics spanned whole epochs, he'd be damned if he was going to turn down the chance for his story to do the same.

And in a streak of green green light, Rond hurtled after "Val," zigging and zagging helter-skelter through the crashing of fists and energies and the screams and the shouting and the blood...

VM3 skidded to a stop by Mano's fallen form.

She kicked him in the injured face with her booted foot, flipping him onto his back.

"Can't put this on you in the standard fashion," she grunted. "That hand of yours'll just eat through the trans-suit fabric."

Ice crackled around her fist and white-blue electric-seeming energies coursed through the air, and thick staples formed out of ice, pinning both of Mano's hands at both wrists, biting deep into the rock and securing the Fiver tight. And she strode 'round him, strode 'round to the head of him, and stretched the trans-suit over Mano's helmet, sealing it around the collar and around the break in the enviro-helmet.

Fresh, disgusting Angtu air spilled into Mano's lungs.

"Don't deserve to live," she declared, simply, using her powers to continually reinforce Mano's frozen restraints, keep them solid, keep them strong, "you nassfaced sprock. But if I save your life now, maybe you'll get a death sentence from executioners way more creative than I am. Ty was a jerk but he was sprocking brave like nothing, and Monstress was my friend. I hope they chop off your hands, then piece your blowed-up planet back together with you at the middle of it."

Rond landed beside her, again taking up a defensive posture, holding his right wrist in his left hand and attempting to aim his Ring towards any of The Five that might come towards them...

Tharok looked plenty scary. He kept his Ring pointed at Tharok.

"Is it always like this?" he wondered, not unreasonably.

"No," Jaymie shook her head. "This is way worse."

Brainiac scanned Ord with his PD3, attempting to ascertain the extent of his injuries. "Are you concussed? If you switch to Londo's powers, or Ognats', you may recuperate faster."

Garth gritted his teeth and threw everything he had and more at The Persuader, trying for the takedown, trying for the disarm... "Mothersprocker. I'ma microwave your cortex in that brainbucket you call a mask."

Powergirl took to the sky, superspeed and flight, she saw Jo get belted by the Moby Dick with the cerebrum showing and she powered on in, faster than a speeding meteor, armoured by Ring-simulated lead, and her doubled-up fists kathoooomed into Validus' chin...

...signature move, natch.

"Go down and stay down," she advised the gargantuan freak.

Without glancing at Jo, Caroline quipped: "I know Rimborians are territorial. Request permission to double-team this nasser."

Liz pointed her Ring at The Empress.

Not at The Eye, The Empress.

And without another moment's hesitation unleashed from her Ring a psionic scramble that would, if successful, disrupt The Empress' link to The Eye... a psionic scramble mixed with a simulated-green-K radioactive pulse...

...Caroline was armoured now, after all, against Kryptonite...

...and sometimes the presence of Kryptonite was enough to make The Eye turn tail and run...

...if Liz could disrupt both The Eye and The Empress in one moment, one instant, maybe she could turn the tide of this...

"More where that came from."

 

[AmenRa]

Brande

She had asked him to watch for her. She would be back.

Of course she will. She is Liz.

I love her.

I always have.

Why didn't I tell her?

I will tell her when she returns.

She knows.

Of course she knows. She is Liz.

Brande smiled. He then tuned one of the monitors to the ultra-frequency wave that allowed him to see through the Legion rings.

He watched them.

He smiled again.

We are Legion, for we are many.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith: Asteroid GX-3396

I followed the battle as best I could. I didn't know any of these people, but I did know evil. These were evil.

And the kids lit into them without blinking. I didn't have any way to hear them, but they worked well together. If I moved in now I stood a better chance of messing something up than helping. Some of them were shocked by what they saw, other enraged.

Me, I had seen much much worse.

There was one enemy down, encased in bonds of ice from Valkyrie. I saw Liz facing off against a woman that left a chill down my spine. She had something powerful on her. Something dangerous.

This big thing was blazing a path through the kids. So far they were dodging it, but that may not last.

I saw the kid from the auditorium, the one the pretty blond girl was standing by, facing off with a guy with a halberd. Sparks were flying off both of them, but it didn't look like anything was stopping him.

Then the big guy head-butted the kid in the face, breaking his nose with a burst of blood and putting him on his ass. I saw him raise the halberd.

Not happening.

I lifted my hand to him and focused my will. Out of the darkness tendrils of solid shadows wrapped themselves around the man and the haft of his weapon. Any that encountered the blade were sheared in two. He struggled, and I concentrated harder, focusing my will and power. The mans wrist snapped, and he dropped the axe. Shadows pooled deeper around him as the tendrils pulled him into the darkness below him, until all that was left above the barren rock was a hand, opening and closing until it finally stilled.

I wondered if he could breathe, then wondered why I cared as I looked at the neatly severed body parts strewn around.

 

[ChasNicollette]

He loomed in Garth's view like a moon about to crash into a planet. The lightning coruscated around him, like an aurora, Garth was looking up through a night sky's aurora borealis at the great silvery-white moon...

...but either being high-grav-born made this tough sprocker tough enough to shrug off a kajillion volts, or maybe his gloves and boots were insulated...

The Persuader was not dissuaded by Lightning Lad's assault, and he simply reached across, and took a hold of the front of Garth's uniform, trans-suit and all, and slammed his armoured masked face into Garth's Winathian features like a moon crashing into a planet.

Garth--

--felt his nose broke--

--he staggered--

--hot red, like magmic slag down his face--

--the bones were skewed, there was pain--

--a lot of pain--

--he fell back, The Persuader had just put him down.

Gonna be headless now.

Sorry, Ayla, gonna be twinless--

But then. Big Scary. Brainiac's "Piltdown Lad." Waltzed in from the sidelines, spewing darkness like... well, like Tasmia's. Like Tasmia's except better bigger darker stronger... Purer.

Shadowbinds. And, yeah, the axe cut through 'em. But not all of 'em.

It was like watching a Durlan infocean octopoid bringing down a Venturan narshark.

All those tentacles, and it didn't matter how big the beastie was, it was getting eaten.

The axe clattered to the rock, inertron ringing against stone.

Garth stared at that axe for a moment.

And then his eyes darted across to the hand that clutched above the rock. And stopped clutching. The Persuader, embedded in an asteroidal straitjacket.

Garth struggled, he struggled, he found his feet and he found his foundation.

"Legion don't kill," he spluttered through the blood. "Rule number one. And I know. I know. You ain't Legion. But you were a Leaguer. Which means you're better than Legion."

He wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist.

Blood gleamed against the metal of his cyborg arm.

"Dig him out," he murmured, normal comic relief gone by the wayside, every inch The Third Founder, "by the time I get back, or you and me are sprocking gonna have verbiage."

He reached down with both hands and took hold of the fallen axe.

"It's morning," he murmured, "I haven't done my chores yet."

His hands flexed on the haft.

"Running low on firewood," he growled.

And weilding the axe, he shot up into the air, up into the black, and he dove back down again, dove right for the ground, swooped...

Blew in right at Tharok with that axe held high...

Let's see you be ungentlemanly with nice ladies when you're down a couple uber-mechanical limbs and that prosthetic proboscis from Hell...

The axe slashed for Tharok's shoulder.

"You an' me, evil genius. Hot, sexy, cyborg-on-cyborg action."

"Time's a-wastin'. Chop-chop."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Brainiac scanned Ord with his PD3, attempting to ascertain the extent of his injuries. "Are you concussed? If you switch to Londo's powers, or Ognats', you may recuperate faster."

But as Brainiac scanned, there came a pinging.

The PD3 was running field-test (and no, the pun was not lost on Querl, he simply chose to ignore it) diagnostics on his new and improved force-field belt. And it was running medical scans on Ord simultaneously...

He frowned. And checked the personal data display device with nostrils lightly flared.

"'Atmospheric disruption,'" he muttered, like this was just dawning on him. "I must be getting slow in my old age. 'Quantum detonation.' Relegated it to background noise, an anomalous quirk of this asteroid's particular make-up but..."

"Old," he harrumphed, "old, slow, and thick. Paint me blue and call me Oan, I'm getting too old for this."

Both hands on the PD3, he examined the scan.

"Hyperstring quanta," he murmured, "running rampant."

Adjusting the scanner to filter past his forcefield with minimum interference-- "Graviton free radicals, anti-psychon particles to scramble psionic transmissions and telekinesis... K-rads seem unaffected, not technically electromagnetic, sort of a 'quantum' wild-card, always have been, that was the point, lead blocking them like gamma rays seems arbitrary at best -- Lightning Lad's power output was off the scale but the electrons he was casting were possessed of negligible amplitude... there's packets of chronal flux, gluons are unglued, fundamental forces and building-blocks of the universe are coming undone. (Quantum Queen?)"

He rubbed his chin and frowned. Lost in thought. "This may be problematic."

...he held up his hand to his face, spoke into his Ring, again utterly detached. He was thinking, not feeling: "Krinn. Erin. Don't know if you can hear me: We might need Ms. Cullen, if you don't mind. Mr. Arrah's alchemical prowess might also serve. Should very probably get this quantum pollution cleared up before it infects the Threshold. If you want my opinion."

Only Piltdown Lad's shadow-constructs seem entirely unaffected.

Magic. Typical.

"We may also want Fate along."

And then. And then. Despite himself. Despite himself. He'd opened the door for one kind of sentiment and maybe other ones were sneaking through...

He glanced down at his belt. Capable of emitting various forces to defend him, he could even turn this into a force-ray for drilling if need be...

"...all The King's horses," he mumbled. "...all The King's men."

He glanced at Ord. "Maybe you won't be the only survivor of this massacre after all."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang of the House of Kent

Kingdom of the Isles principality
Age 5


Sighing the armored grizzly bear looked down from the castle walls at the squires below. Squires that bashed and hacked at each other with wooden swords under the tutelage of the master-at-arms.

At a gesture of his right gauntlet a guard nearby stepped forwards, the chink of chainmail audible in the crisp air. “Mi Lorde?”

“How long..?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Feigning ignorance badly, the guard asked, “How long what, mi Lorde?”

The backhand cut the guard under the jaw, lifting him up and sending him flying. Crashing to a halt some twenty feet from the Castles lord and master, the guard wheezed. Blood and skin spewing from between torn lips. Inhaling slowly he coughed, several broken teeth flying as he tried sitting up.

“I SAID ‘HOW LONG?’!!!” the knight bellowed, breath crystallizing in the wind on the walkway.

Stepping forward another guard made to speak, but the Knight turned his head and fixed him with a gaze of steel. A red light flickering across the startled guards face. Swallowing he wisely kept his mouth shut and stepped back.

Cold armour creaked as the Knight turned back to the maimed guard, whom was still trying to maneuver back to his feet.

“Unless you’re ready to answer, you’d better stay down. Next time I’ll break something more important than your teeth."

“Six day’s, mi Lorde.”

“Six days..” the walking man mountain sighed.

 

[Varshanka]

Standing in the corner the Knight watched the ladies at their embroidery. She moved with a soft seductive grace that made his heart speed up every time he gazed upon her face.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff260/Varshanka/LODK%20-%20Legion/Chloe_Tudors2_wm.png

The face of his wife. It had been a political alliance. But the fact that she was VERY attractive hadn’t hurt.

He watched as she leaned forward, listening to her giggling companion. Soft red hints of gold brushing her blonde hair like a glorious sunset. Her lips parted in a smile, her eyes turning up to follow her companions pointing finger.

Rising to her feet she crossed the room. Slippered feet scuffing lightly as she moved. She dropped to a curtsy for the briefest of moments her rather ample bosom pressing against the lace bodice. The her bare arms were wrapping around his neck, her lips meeting his.

Armoured arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her. Holding her against cold metal.

When the embrace was reluctantly undone the Lady of the castle stepped back, her rather dainty hand laying flat on his metal chest.

“How long have you been returned, My Husband?”

“Not long dearheart.” Bowing stiffly at the waist he gazed at the other females in the room. “Ladies..”

A pile of tittering giggles assaulted his ears as he guided Lady Cleo from the room. Giggles that turned to laughter and sighs.

 

[Varshanka]

Two guards unleashed the shackles, allowing the Master-at-arms to fall free. Muscles hyper-extended, and over used, finally relaxed.

Escourting him to the Knights office chamber they waited outside. They didn’t want to go in. The knight had a dark side. Especially when he was angry. And right now, angry would be an improvement.

Looking up the Knight look at the Master-at-arms. His blessed eye gleamed red, the beam tracking across the Master-at-arms’ face. Analyzing sweat and strain. Eye movement, respiration. Pupil dilation.

“I hope that your punishment for teaching a girl to use a weapon will not reflect badly on our business relationship.”

“No, Mi Lorde.”

“Good. Next time.. I’ll have you whipped and then removed from my employ.” Turning back to the papers before him, the Knight ignored the servant.

 

[Varshanka]

Allana stood before her father, her ankle twisting and turning as she looked at the floor.

“You hit him?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Why?”

Looking up she yelled, “He pulled my HAIR!!!” and then broke into tears.

Sighing the Knight’s hand covered his eyes. As much as he wanted to cover his ears, seeing her cry was worse than hearing it.

“Allana, his Father is a Duke. And as much of a pain in my ass as they both are, you cannot hit him.” Looking at the guardsman behind her he asked. “How bad is it?”

“The boy’s eye is quite darkened, Mi lord. It will heal without incident, she is only five. But it will take several days.”

“Speak with the Medicae, have the boy ..” A cough stopped his command, “Yes?”

“The Duke sent a missive as soon as he heard.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.. “ stepping forward the guard lay the data crystal on the desk. “He .. he sent it by technopriest.”

Reaching out the Knight lifted the crystal from the desk, leaving the room with heavy steps. “Go to your room Allana.”

***

Standing motionless the Knight’s teeth gritted. His jaw tightening to impossible levels. Baron Harcourts orders were carried out. To the letter.

The boy’s eye would be healed by morning. But for now Allana was being punished.

Her shift settled on the floor and she grabbed the post with her hands. Tears streamed down her face as the lash fell. Six days she’d been whipped. Six lashes today.

Five yesterday. Four the day before that. And until the Dukes son, and his escourt left, the Apothercary couldn’t heal her.

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang of the House of Kent

Kingdom of the Isles principality
Age 13

The fresh young Knights pounded across the ground. Mounts stirring up clouds of torn dirt and dust. Racing each other for the chapel on the mount.

The first to reach it would receive new armour and mount. Brand new. Made for them. A very lucrative award. All they had to do was reach the Chapel and bring back what was inside. First.

Pulling hard on the reins she vaulted from her mount. Landing in the hard packed dirt she spun and ran for the Chapel. Sir Mikael tried to trip her and received a knee to the groin for his troubles.

Dodging around his falling form she darted between Jakon and Tomas. Twisting around Foreman she ran up the walkway at full speed and slipped through the partly open door. Slamming it closed she dropped the bar on the inside. Locking the others out.

With the door finally barred and a chance to breathe Allana looked around the room. A simple chapel it held wooden pews and bare stone pulpit.

Ahh.. the award.. a Sword.

Walking up she gazed at it. The gleam of polished metal, the glowing white inlay of technorunes. Walking around it she looked for anything that might have been a trap. It wasn’t above the Knights to do something like that.

A bare hand reached out, fingers curling around the hilt of the long sword. Skin touched metal…

.. and the white glow turned ble. “Genome lock engaged.”

Dropping the sword Allana stared at it wide eyed. “What the frack,” she gasped.

Out of her touch the blade remained glowing. Blue. A sky blue meets ocean blue.

Reaching down once more she picked it up. “A spellsword..” she gasped, surprised. And shocked that such an award was given. It was worth a small castle. Twenty knights pay for a year.

On her armours hud she saw a new blinking icon.

Turning to look were it indicated she moved to the wall. A painting hung there. A clean painting. Laying the blade back on the pulpit, she pushed it to the side and found an alcove behind it. And a scabbard in the alcove. Pulling it out she strapped the scabbard on her him.

And the door exploded inwards under the pounding might of five young, and very pissed off, knights.

Grinning at her Mikail moved to the blade, his fingers closing around it. “You lose.. bitch.” he snarled.

And then he screamed, his body jerking and spasming as every muscle in him tried to extend simultaneously. Dropping to the ground, his teeth chattered shut. Chipping several.

“Genome match failed.”

And the sword rolled from his limp hands. Small tremors still quaked him as nerves adjusted to the sudden and shocking experience. And the sudden lack of it as well.

Stepping forward Allana lifted the blade in her hands, the rune weaving glowing slightly brighter. “I think the sword is still mine.” She said looking at the others.

With heavy sighs the other knights nodded, reluctantly agreeing that a girl had beaten them. Again. But it wasn’t just A girl it was her. Allana Lang. She fought harder. Ran faster, and further, than any of them. Yeah they were stronger, they hit harder. But she was more limber and faster.

Grabbing Mikail, they dragged him from the Chapel, strapping him to his horse. A very undignified way to travel, but he wouldn’t care. Not until he regained consciousness anyway.

Once Mikail was secured the others mounted up and began the ride back. Slower now, with Allana running fingers along her new blade. She could practically feel the power running through it.

***

Jumping from their mounts the young Knights surrounded the peasant girl. “Look, The Truth grants us a bounty this eve!!” one yelled out.

Screaming the girl tried to run, but surrounded as she was she had no where to go. And within moments her clothing was ripped away.

Leaping from her own saddle Allana pushed her way forward, moving within the circle. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Enjoying our reward. You got yours, now we’re getting ours.”

“No you are not. It’s wrong. She’s no strumpet ot camp follower for your pleasures.”

“You’re right. She’s a peasant. We don’t have to pay for what she’ll give us.”

Pulling her reward, her spellsword, her technoblade, Allana stood between the speaker and the girl. “You want her? You go through me.” she snarled at Sir Mallory.

“Not a problem. And after I’m done beating you to a mindless pulp. I’ll pleasure myself with you instead.”

Bring the gleaming blade to the ready she waited for him. For his attack.

And attack he did. His blade nearly sprung from it’s scabbard as he launched himself forwards. Steel rang on steel as the two knights fought. One seeking retribution for invisible wrongs. For embarrassments perceived, the other seeking to protect her own life and another’s.

Spinning in place Allana performed a perfect pirouette, shifting in close to her opponent. Driving her knee upwards she hit his inner thigh as he moved to block the obvious strike. Pushing her back and away from him with armour enhanced strength he wasn’t prepared when her left leg snapped into the ground, a heel spike stopping her momentum,. Nor the blade swinging towards his head.

His own sword flashed upwards, blocking her blade. For a fraction of a moment. Her gleaming blue blade slide through the palladium of his blade like a white hot blade through warm butter.

Pulling her blade at the last moment she sheered a section of Mallory’s helmet off. And enough skin to leave him a very nasty scar. But at least he’d live.

Stepping back she looked at the others as Mallory screamed, blood running between his fingers. “The girl is to be left alone!” She snapped. “We are KNIGHTS. Not vagabonds or highwaymen.”

Frustration and rage warred in them. The desire to teach Allana a lesson warring with Knightly Virtues. She was a Knight, to rush her enmass went against the Code. To use bolters against a Knight was against the Code. And reluctantly many admitted that to harm the peasant was as well. She was a peasant, a loyal servant.

And so, the Knights collected another wounded comrade and departed. Unhappily for some. For some of them didn’t hold the Knightly Truth as closely to their hearts as did others.

***

Waiting and watching Allana tracked the Knights on their mounts. The display in her own helmet enhancing her vision, tracking motion, heat signatures, and sound.

When she was satisfied that her and the girl were alone, she turned around. Her jaw parting to speak. But she didn’t say anything. Instead she beheld the sight before her in stunned astonishment.

The Knight before her bore the Mark of the Grail.

A Grail Knight.

A golden Chalice gleamed on his green hued armour. Lines of Technomancy covered him in silver script. “Hail and good fortune Dame Allana Lang of the House of Kent.” He said.

Her jaw moved. Several times before she managed to speak. “What happened to the girl?”

“A hololithic image created for this test of Honor.”

“Oh..”

 

[ChasNicollette]

The Knight before her bore the Mark of the Grail.

A Grail Knight.

A golden Chalice gleamed on his green hued armour. Lines of Technomancy covered him in silver script. “Hail and good fortune Dame Allana Lang of the House of Kent.” He said.

Her jaw moved. Several times before she managed to speak. “What happened to the girl?”

“A hololithic image created for this test of Honor.”

“Oh..”

The Knight was tall. Eight feet at the very least, and The Knight crossed armoured arms over armoured chest...

...and a slender man about six feet tall stepped out from behind the verdant-armoured titan. He crossed his arms over his own chest and leaned against the armoured figure, a puckish smile upon his lips.

He was slender, brown-haired, with eyes dark as woodland dusk.

He wore a long brown coat. And a suit and tie. And shoes the colour of his companion's armour.

And he had a sword belted to his hip.

"Please forgive the momentary deception, Lady Knight," he declared, a gorgeous Scottish accent tumbling from those rogue-witted lips, "well, both of them. The hololith and the, erm, misdirection."

With one hand, he rapped lightly on the armour's surface. "Bit claustrophobic, me. These things were never big enough on the inside to suit my tastes. Hope you don't think less of me for it."

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small leather billfold, like a badge-holder for ancient Earth policemen, and displayed therein was a certificate, paper inlaid with gold. The crest watermarking the certificate matched the golden chalice upon his compatriot's chest.

"I'm Sir John Smith," he delcared, smooth as silk, shedding a bit of that puckishness, manifesting the air of command like he was born to wear it, just a touch, just a touch of it, "of The House of Balamory. My esteemed guardian here is Dame Wilhelmina Normandy, called The Silent Holy Knight."

Clapping the certificate shut, he pocketed this and scrutinised Allana with a bit of an encouraging smile as his hands slid into the pockets of his trousers. "I don't suppose I need to tell you why we're here. And may I just say, 'bravo,' Lady Knight, flying colours. Molto bene."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang

Inside her armoured helm Allana’s eyebrow lifted. She certainly hadn’t expected to hear a pictman’s brogue tumble from the person before her. But tumble it did. Rather rapidly in fact.

“A test of honour you spoke a moment ago. A test I hope I did pass.” Pausing for the briefest of moments as her HUD tracked the zone, making sure that there would be no more surprises. “How may I assist you, Sir John Smith of the House of Balamory?”

And she wracked her brain trying to identify the Knight. After all there were so few people indeed that bore that stature. Or had attained the rank of a Chalice Knight. Perhaps someone from another principality?

 

[ChasNicollette]

Inside her armoured helm Allana’s eyebrow lifted. She certainly hadn’t expected to hear a pictman’s brogue tumble from the person before her. But tumble it did. Rather rapidly in fact.

“A test of honour you spoke a moment ago. A test I hope I did pass.” Pausing for the briefest of moments as her HUD tracked the zone, making sure that there would be no more surprises. “How may I assist you, Sir John Smith of the House of Balamory?”

And she wracked her brain trying to identify the Knight. After all there were so few people indeed that bore that stature. Or had attained the rank of a Chalice Knight. Perhaps someone from another principality?

"Pass you most definitely did," Sir John nodded easily, his countenance taking on a teacher's firm edification. "Honour is often a double-edged sword, is it nae? In order to do the proper thing, you had to do that which further demonised you in the eyes of your peers. You turned your back on the popular thing and embraced that which was gallant. Not to mention, love the technique with the splendid new sword, scarring him without killing him."

He was serious, so serious. "The mortal blow is never one to be delivered lightly, if at all. You did well to mark your peer without dispatching him. Good."

Sir John stepped away from the massively armoured figure.

"As for how you might be of... assistance?"

And his eyes took on a bit of agony. Like he was committing her to memory, and he knew it might hurt to remember her later.

"Remove your helmet, Lady Knight," he suggested gently but firmly. "If you would be so kind."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang

And remove her helmet she did. Reaching up she gave it that subtle twist that disengaged the circuitry, allowing the helm to be removed. Taking in a breath of cool night air, moist with mist from the ground, she returned his gaze.

Young for a full Knight. But not the youngest in history. That claim belonged to another. But she was the youngest female knight in the history of the Kingdom of Caer Lial.

“Actually I was attacking his weapon. When it failed to stop my blade, I had to change the angle. Otherwise I would have separated his head from the rest of his body. Which would have been very unfortunate. But I gave my word to protect the innocent. To Help the Helpless. To defend the defenseless. The peasant girl was all of those.”

Resting one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword, the other holding the helm, she looked up at armoured Knight, and unarmoured Lord.

 

[ChasNicollette]

And remove her helmet she did. Reaching up she gave it that subtle twist that disengaged the circuitry, allowing the helm to be removed. Taking in a breath of cool night air, moist with mist from the ground, she returned his gaze.

Young for a full Knight. But not the youngest in history. That claim belonged to another. But she was the youngest female knight in the history of the Kingdom of Caer Lial.

“Actually I was attacking his weapon. When it failed to stop my blade, I had to change the angle. Otherwise I would have separated his head from the rest of his body. Which would have been very unfortunate. But I gave my word to protect the innocent. To Help the Helpless. To defend the defenseless. The peasant girl was all of those.”

Resting one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword, the other holding the helm, she looked up at armoured Knight, and unarmoured Lord.

Sir John glanced up at Dame Wilhelmina.

They seemed to exchange words without speaking. She simply nodded, and he simply nodded back, running his tongue over his teeth.

He moved closer towards her and he reached up, tenatively, removing both hands from his pockets and placing them on either side of her head.

"Sometimes, Dame Allana," he explained, that aspect of broken glass still in his eyes, "one must oneself be rendered defenceless to defend. One must be rendered helpless in order to help. Sometimes, we must find ourselves absconded to our lowest ebb before we can be transformed alchemically to our greatest effectiveness."

His lip quirked, but not into a smile. Deadly seriousness with a touch a touch of agony. "The trick is, getting broken down so thoroughly... one does nae always come back from that. One does nae always survive. One does nae always want to."

And gently, gently, he moved those hands inward, and gently cupped her face, not in an improper fashion, just a ginger ginger touch, not in any wrong way, and he gazed quietly into her eyes, fathomlessly deep into her eyes.

In her head there would come a sensation of weighing, of measuring, of finding...

...just behind her eyes and through the corridors of her thoughts, he gently wandered.

And then withdrew.

And he took a deep breath as he stepped back and drew his head up to his full height and put his hands back in his pockets.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I'm so sorry."

He frowned softly. "Looks like you have what it takes. I'm sorry."

Sir John's nostrils flared. "Would you accept such an opportunity, were it offered you? Would you take that chance, if it meant you could serve His Majesty and His Holiness all to the better?"

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang

He moved closer towards her and he reached up, tenatively, removing both hands from his pockets and placing them on either side of her head.

"Sometimes, Dame Allana," he explained, that aspect of broken glass still in his eyes, "one must oneself be rendered defenceless to defend. One must be rendered helpless in order to help. Sometimes, we must find ourselves absconded to our lowest ebb before we can be transformed alchemically to our greatest effectiveness."

His lip quirked, but not into a smile. Deadly seriousness with a touch a touch of agony. "The trick is, getting broken down so thoroughly... one does nae always come back from that. One does nae always survive. One does nae always want to."

Shivering she almost stepped back. Almost pulled away. Almost skewered him through with blade.

Fingers tensed on blade. Heel spikes snapping into place. Locking her for the swing.

Almost.

The blade gleamed with technomancy. She could remove his limbs from body before he even shifted his weight.

It was a challenge. A challenge of Trust. It had to be.

And for some reason she trusted him. Those eyes. Brown eyes, soft as a doe’s skin. And wise. But not wise from books or words. Wise from experience.

Skin goosebumbed under her armour. And she felt something behind her eyes that made her get the creepy crawlies inside her skull. But she held fast. Firm in her beliefs.

Heel spikes disengaged, as fingers lossened.

And gently, gently, he moved those hands inward, and gently cupped her face, not in an improper fashion, just a ginger ginger touch, not in any wrong way, and he gazed quietly into her eyes, fathomlessly deep into her eyes.

In her head there would come a sensation of weighing, of measuring, of finding...

...just behind her eyes and through the corridors of her thoughts, he gently wandered.

And then withdrew.

And he took a deep breath as he stepped back and drew his head up to his full height and put his hands back in his pockets.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I'm so sorry."

He frowned softly. "Looks like you have what it takes. I'm sorry."

Sir John's nostrils flared. "Would you accept such an opportunity, were it offered you? Would you take that chance, if it meant you could serve His Majesty and His Holiness all to the better?"

“Aye, Mi Lorde. I shall serve in whatsoever capacity I am needed. Until my dying breath I serve The Truth.”

 

[ChasNicollette]

“Aye, Mi Lorde. I shall serve in whatsoever capacity I am needed. Until my dying breath I serve The Truth.”

The massive emerald knight changed, somehow, subtly. Tensed.

Those heel spikes in place, hand on hilt, the younger creature had taken on the posture of lashing out...

...but she stayed her hand, and everything relaxed.

Including Allana. Including Wilhelmina.

And through it all, Sir John never once flinched, never once hesitated. Like he knew, blood and bones, that he would come to no harm. He'd taken a leap of faith on Allana's behalf, and she had succeeded yet again.

He had knowledge of books, and of words. And he had knowledge of experience. Oh, so very much experience.

He was very old. And very wise. And very tired. But still he soldiered on.

"Very well," he nodded, weighing and measuring and finding, he nodded, "'The Truth.' The Truth is, Dame Allana, that, in this world, in this wide wide Universe in which we find ourselves, there is no light without darkness. Even if the darkness is just mimicking, copying, pantomiming the light, darkness deceives, darkness equivocates, darkness emulates that which makes the light so strong and so powerful."

He gestured to the emblem on Dame Wilhelmina's chest. "You are familiar, of course, with The Sangreal? The Golden Chalice of Holy Blood?"

Sir John shrugged. "There's a dark mirror to this, too. A Chalice of Unholy Blood, less Golden than it is pitch pitch Black. And just as we have formed a Brotherhood to defend our Grail, so too have The Opposition formed a fraternity to defend their own. And there must needs be a Knight, young of heart and pure of purpose and willing to do that which is unpopular to do that which is right... there must needs be a Knight riding into their midst and preventing the use of this artefact for the good of The Church and All Mankind. The danger, perhaps obviously, will be terrible great. But your skill and courage and will are passing fair."

He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, and took a deep breath. "You will be called upon to save a life which seems, at first, to be nae worth saving. But in saving this life, you will save yourself."

Sir John glanced down at her sword, and then back to her face. "My respects to your weaponsmith. Your viceroy will provide you with greater details of the quest at hand, the questors with whom you will ride."

He took a step back from her, and he bowed to her. Actually bowed.

"God be with ye," he gently invoked. "Bonchance, Lady Knight."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang

Returning his bow she moved as smoothly as she could in the armour she wore. It wasn’t the gleaming armour she’d get when she returned. But it was functional.

But she had a quest. A task.

“By my word I will complete the task they give me Lord Knight. Or I shall perish in my trying.”

She almost turned away from him. Almost. Her hip swiveling. The motion begun. Then her forhead crinkled and she stopped. Her head turning back, her chin dipping down as an eyebrow climbed. “You said ‘"You will be called upon to save a life which seems, at first, to be nae worth saving. But in saving this life, you will save yourself." ‘. How can you know what will come to pass?”