Revelation (M/F) (F/M) - A sequel to Devastation

[wolfman]

“I’m so sorry that we did not have a chance to speak before the meeting. I didn’t think it would be like that.” The King says, warmly.

“Me too.” Nikita says, sadly, “I wanted a chance to thank you properly for coming back for me. I made my choice to risk my life to buy you time and if you had just left and been safe, I would have been good with that.”

“I however, would not have been good with that. You stood on a field that was not your own and faced an enemy your didn’t have to.” He says, solemnly, “You laid down your life for us. I could not let that debt go unpaid.”

“We are even then.” Nikita says, relaxing somewhat.

“No. You advice helped us turn back a horde without loss of Atlantean life. I owe you for every life you saved.” He says earnestly.

“Steady on, we just had a conversation and shared some ideas, no biggie.” Nikita says, keeping her tone light.

Halpron stares at her for a moment, taking in the sight of the sun in her hair and the way the silk of the toga hugs her curves, then smiles softly, “You are humble, wise and beautiful, inside and out, Nikita Green.”

Nikita turns away, to look out of the window and hide her blushing, “You are too kind.”

“I say what I see.” He says, gently.

Nikita sighs softly, before speaking, “You are a brave, strong and wonderful man, your Highness. I know we may have had a rocky start, but I am glad I came here.”

“As am I. You have given us more than we could have dared hope for. Indeed, you have given us hope. You truly are a champion.” Halpron says with a smile.

Nikita closes her eyes, and bows her head, “I’m not sure about that, however, I can protect you from any backlash surrounding your people’s doubts about me and my motivations.”

“You don’t need to do this.” The King says, gently, placing a hand on Nikita’s bare shoulder.

Nikita rests her hand in his where it touches her bare skin and rests her head on the back of her hand. She closes her eyes and savours the tingle of his touch. “I don’t want you to be the weak link in your armour.”

“I can’t explain it. I barely know you, but I whenever you are near, I feel stronger somehow.” He admits, leaving his hand where it is, “I visited you every day during your recovery, I prayed for you. I do not want to lose you.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Nikita says, struggling to find the right words, “I feel the goodness in you and believe in what you are trying to do and will do anything I can to help.”

“The biggest thing you can do to help me, is to be yourself and let me earn your respect and friendship.” Halpron says, softly.

“You have my respect and I am honoured to consider you my friend.” Nikita says, rising slowly to her feet and turning to face him.

“I wish we had more time.” Halpron says, sadly, “They will come to take you for the ritual soon.”

“I wish we had more time too.” Nikita says, thinking, “There is so much, I want to say.”

“I will pray for you again.” Halpron says, looking her in the eyes.

“I’ll be fine. I will be back in no time.” Nikita says, with a wink.

“Have they told you what to expect?” He asks, hoping that she has been briefed.

“Not in any great detail, but I got the gist. I will go into a trance and have to face my life.” Nikita says, with a smile.

“You will face the hidden truths and lies within your heart and soul. The ritual exposes you, to every part of yourself. For those with darkness in their soul, it will consume them. But for those pure of heart, they become exalted .”

Nikita stirs warily, thinking , “I have darkness in me and it is deeply ingrained.” She lights a cigarette and tries to compose herself, “How long does it take?”

He hangs his head and admits, “There have been some who have died during the ritual from dehydration and starvation.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Nikita admits, feeling her heart sinking, as she sends a plume of smoke towards the window.

“Seems just as I get you back, I lose you again.” The King says, without thinking.

“You don’t get rid of me that easily.” Nikita says, when a knock at the door draws both of their attention.



Nikita is lead by three esoterican acolytes, to a temple over looking the sea. The streets are empty and their transit is unhindered in the waning light of the day.

Phobos greets her at the gates of the temple and leads her inside to the ritual space.

“If you could lay on the altar and try to relax, we will begin when you are ready.” Phobos says, in a gentle tone.

“Will it hurt?” Nikita asks, laying back.

Phobos looks down sympathetically, “It is different for everyone. Some experience agony, others are barely fazed by it. Try to relax and let it wash over you.”

For the first time since agreeing to undertake the rite, Nikita feels the icy fingers of fear wrap around her heart, “Should I be scared?”

“Fear drove us out of the jaws of predators, when we first walked the earth. It is primal and powerful. It can keep us safe in the right circumstances, but in those moments we rise above it, we achieve our greatest successes.” Phobos says, gently.

Something about the cadence and tone of the old mage’s speech helps her relax. “I think I am ready.” She says, barely above a whisper.

“Then we shall begin.” Phobos says, with a gentle calm.

Slowly he begins to chant in a low voice. Words spoken at the dawn of civilisation, dance around her and settle in her soul. Nikita feels herself become lighter, with each syllable.



She looks down at her body, laying motionless beneath her. She floats naked, her hair swirling around her head, stirred by ethereal breezes.

A feeling of overwhelming peace fills her soul and radiates from her core. She allows herself to spin slowly, taking in the minutiae of her surroundings. Every crack in the stone, fissure in the mortar, snag in the fabrics adorning the walls and floor. Everything.

The light in the room grows more intense, slowly at first but soon washing everything else out, until the room itself disappears. Nikita floats in the white void weightless. No. Not weightless. Incorporeal.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.” Nikita thinks, hopefully.

“Yeah, I am sure it will all be like this.” An unfamiliar yet familiar, female voice echoes around her.

She spins in the void seeking the source of the void, looking all around her and then looking up.

“Not up there, love.” The voice taunts, as Nikita is pulled straight down at an impossible rate.

She screams, unable to stop herself or see her destination. The further she goes the darker her surroundings become until she is in perfect darkness.

Nikita looks up and sees the light racing away from her and her heart sinks.

“Welcome.” The voice comes again, devoid of emotion or warmth.

Nikita goes through the motions of taking breath in this airless place and asks, “What is going on?”

“This place is shaped by your view of the world. You view the world as a place of darkness and pain. Hence the darkness.” The voice says, without emotion.

“If that was the case, then what about the pain?” Nikita asks, numbly.

“You had to ask.” The voice says, darkly.

Nikita peers into the gloom. Despite the lack of light somehow she is able to perceive a shape before her. Instinctively, she back away.

The shape advances, slowly. Nikita runs. Tries to run. But it is like running through treacle, her arms and legs not responding as they should.

She screams, feeling steel hard arms wrap around her, pinning her arms and crushing her chest. Arms too strong to resist.

Nikita howls as her attacker, plunges their fangs into her neck. As the blood of this body is drained, she feels her thoughts drained away with it.

“Please stop.” She begs weakly, gasping for breath, feeling herself slipping away and the world turns grey.

[Caesar73]

Nikita is testen by a trial of horrors- a dark chapter. And the Cliffhanger leaves us hanging in the air: Is this Nikita's End? Excellent [mention]wolfman[/mention]

[GreyLord]

I believe that Nikita's good heart will win out over the darkness. We all have some good and some dark in us. Nikita has so much good.

[slackywacky]

“Please stop.” She begs weakly, gasping for breath, feeling herself slipping away and the world turns grey.

As the others mentioned, Nikita is in trouble, but good MUST prevail, we can't loose Nikita. It is funny for me to see how I shy away from this story occasionally, but always come back. Well written, [mention]wolfman[/mention].

[wolfman]

[mention]Caesar73[/mention] [mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]slackywacky[/mention] your concern for Nikita is admirable, she has faced many challenges and has always found the strength to prevail.

[mention]slackywacky[/mention] I am glad you keep coming back and hope that you and everyone else who reads, continues to do so.

[wolfman]

Time shifts

Nikita’s eyes flutter open. Thought returns slowly to her, while she tries to take in her surroundings, “Fuck me. I feel drunk. The room won’t stop spinning.”

She tries to make sense of her situation, looking around at the chrome and silver room. “What the hell is going on?” She thinks, realising she is in some form of restraints.

She feels the cool touch of metal around her neck and tries to look down at herself but soon realises her error. A metal bar is attached to the rear of the collar. Heavy metal shackles encircle her forearms and pin her arms parallel to each other across her back. Whilst it is bad enough that the shackles are welded to the bar from her collar, much worse is the cold steel metal hook on the end of the bar, with its bulbous end currently seated deep in her rear.

Nikita tries to flex her arms, but feels the pinch of metal being pulled deeper into her. Aside from the metal contraption she is naked, as she lays on the cold metal floor. Nikita pulls, flexes and twists against the unyielding metal desperate to get free.

“Save your strength.” The unfamiliar yet familiar voice says. Startled, Nikita looks up, gazing in shock at the figure before shock. A figure wearing her face and body, however, with skin of polished silver but with the same blue of her irises, she stands tall in severe heels. Coupled with her loose fitting blouse and pencil skirt in silver, she is imposing.

“Who are you?” Nikita asks, fearfully, thinking, “She looks like me, but she is not me. Her legs are too long, her features too perfect.”

The figure smiles revealing teeth of silver and a silver tongue, “I am your secretary.” She says, with a subtle twitch of her eyebrow.

Nikita looks up confused, “So you type up meeting minutes and manage my diary?”

Secretary smiles down sweetly, then crouches at Nikita’s side. With a gentle hand she reaches down, to stroke Nikita’s cheek, before viciously backhanding her.

Nikita reels at the steel hard blow and gasps when Secretary drags her to her feet, by her throat, just above the collar. “No, you fucking imbecile. I am the keeper of your secrets and all the things you hide from the world and yourself.”

“Please, I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.” Nikita begs, staring at her reflection in Secretary’s cheek.

The silver woman slaps her cheek hard then releases Nikita’s throat and turns her back on her prisoner. Nikita coughs and struggles to stay standing. “What do you want from me?”

“This is part of the ritual. We are going to go through your secrets and self deceptions and rip them apart, until we expose the truths of who you are.” Secretary says, calmly. “If it does not destroy you, then you will return to your life.”

Nikita weighs the implications of Secretary’s words and nods soberly. “Shall we begin?” She asks, steadying herself.

Secretary’s smile glitters unnervingly in the half-light of the room. “Let’s.”



Secretary begins, playfully, “We could talk about what you did to Ivy first, but why don’t we start with something really dark?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound” Nikita says, with a pensive nod.

“Don’t look so scared. I will start with something easy.” Secretary says with a wink, before her features harden and darken, “Why didn’t you know that the woman posing as your mother was an imposter?”

Flustered Nikita speaks defensively, taking a step back, “She was too well disguised. I couldn’t tell.”

“Oh is that so? In that case, when you saw your mother murder your father, why didn’t you stop her?” Secretary asks, coldly. She seems to subtly grow in the space of the room, whilst she slowly advances.

“I was young.” Nikita says, caught off guard, “I didn’t know she wasn’t my mum.”

“But you still saw her attack your father.” Secretary accuses her prisoner, delivering a disdainful slap to her face.

Nikita reels from the blow and struggles to compose herself, “I...” She pauses, reliving the moment, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“But you didn’t do anything at all. You just watched.” Secretary pushes Nikita back against a wall and pins her by the throat, “Why?”

Nikita feels herself back in the moment, watching the woman she thought to be her mother, draw the blade across her fathers throat. She feels everything she felt in that moment and hangs her head and barely audibly says, “I was afraid.”

“So?” Secretary says, harshly, punctuating each word with a fresh open handed slap, “You could have screamed, pushed her away, or got in her way, done something, but instead you just watched. Your dad is dead because of you.”

Unable to control her tears, Nikita sobs, “I know.” She exhales.

“You were weak and pathetic and you still are. All the lives you save do nothing to clean the blood off of your hands.” Secretary hisses, shoving her prisoner hard, slamming her into the wall, where she slides to the floor.

“I know.” Nikita repeats weakly, unable to look Secretary in the eye as she stalks closer. Feebly, she tries to get on to her knees to take her weight off of the hook.

“I mean sure, she was an international assassin, who would have incapacitated you without batting an eyelid if you had resisted. But it is definitely your fault.” Secretary whispers, viciously, “She would have beaten you to a pulp and still dragged you off to the lab. But yeah, you should have stopped her.

Nikita looks up at her captor and frowns, confused, “What?”

Secretary pounces on Nikita straddling her chest and clamping her hand over her captives mouth and nose, “You are a fucking idiot. I am ashamed to be a part of you at times.” She ignores Nikita’s tears and stifled cries, “Lady Chameleon was a master of her craft and there was no way you could have know she wasn’t your mum. If you had intervened she would have battered you and still dragged you off. By extension, you acting or not would have made no difference to the outcome and she would still have taken your dad’s life.”

Nikita stops struggling and devolves into tears. Secretary releases her mouth a d climbs off of her and warmly embraces Nikita, gently rocking her prisoner, “It wasn’t your fault.” Secretary whispers, gently. Nikita nods weakly. “Say it.” Secretary commands.

“It wasn’t my fault.” Nikita says between sobs. Secretary reaches into her chest and pulls a black mass from her heart. Nikita screams feeling a part of her soul ripped away.

Casually tossing it aside, Secretary sighs, as it fizzles and hisses in the air, before turning to dust and blowing away.



Secretary smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard was it?” She asks, gently.

“Fuck you.” Nikita says, not looking up. As soon as the words escape her lips, her legs buckle under her and she collapses to her knees. She kneels breathing hard but somehow feeling lighter.

“There. Isn’t that better? Doesn’t it feel good to get things off of your chest?” Secretary asks, gently.

Nikita shudders, but nods. Secretary smiles, “Good. Next question.” She pauses taking a deliberate breath, “Were you fat when you were younger?”

“I thought so at the time.” Nikita confesses, “But looking back, I’m not so sure.”

Secretary transforms into a younger version of Nikita, with a UK size eighteen figure. “Tell me what you see.” She commands.

“You have nice boobs and a nice bum. I always thought my stomach was huge, but I guess it wasn’t so bad.” Nikita says, looking closely, “If that is really how I looked, I wasn’t a model, but I looked good. ”

“Yeah, you did. Everyone told you so, but you never listened. Ha, lets face it, you had more than your share of boys ask you out, but you never said yes. Why is that?” Secretary asks, with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought they were making fun of me.” Nikita says, closing her eyes.

“What possible reason would you have for thinking that?” Secretary asks, exasperated.

“There were no end of thinner prettier girls and I couldn’t see what they would want with a lump like me.” Nikita says, recalling the feelings she had as a teenager.

“You say that looking back you looked pretty good, but you thought of yourself like a lump. Why?” Secretary asks, coldly. “So help me, if you don’t answer, I will beat you into oblivion.”

Nikita shakes her head, not wanting to speak. Secretary silently sits and watches, waiting for Nikita to speak. Nikita’s lip trembles, as she speaks slowly, almost feeling as if the words are being dragged from her in order to fill the silent void in the room.

“Mum was thin as a rake and dad used to joke that I didn’t get my figure from her.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, “But it wasn’t funny. He kept saying it and making little digs about getting exercise and cutting down on what I ate. It wore me down.”

Secretary puts her arm around her captive and hugs her “Your dad had nothing but love for you. He wanted the best for you and would have been heartbroken if he knew how you felt.” Secretary stands, leaving Nikita sitting.

Nikita screams again as her pain is torn from her soul. She lays on the floor, the cold metal of the floor, cooling the heat of her face.



Secretary leaves her on the floor to recover for a few minutes. When she returns, she had kicked off her heels. She looks down at Nikita and lights a cigarette, taking a deep drag.

Nikita looks up at her captor, as she erupts into a body wracking coughing fit. She smiles slightly taking a little pleasure from Secretary’s cough.

“PCS strips these of any effects, why do you smoke them?” Secretary asks, with a hint of disgust.

“It will sound dumb.” Nikita says looking away. Secretary let’s the statement hang in the air and waits until Nikita speaks again, “Mum used to smoke and it is the last thing of hers that I have and can do to feel close to her.”

Nikita braces for the pain of that part of her being ripped away, however, instead Secretary holds the cigarette to her lips and lets her take a drag.

“That is something that you can keep. No need to take that away from you.” Secretary says, gently.

Nikita takes another draw and chokes back tears, “Thank you.”

“No drama. I am here to reveal your secrets, not strip you completely bare.” Secretary says, gently, “Besides, smoking saved your life with Armil. Nice job with that by the way.”

Nikita shudders at what she had to go through at his hand and dismisses the remark.

“Any bodily fluids and any person is an open book to you.” Secretary observes.

“Almost any person.” Nikita says, with a fond memory.

“Ah yes. Chris Hemsby. Nice boy, if a bit kinky.” Secretary teases, before becoming serious, “Why didn’t you read his life?”

Nikita shrugs, “There was something about him. Something special that prevented it.”

“Oh really? You saw his lifepulse. Was there anything out of the ordinary?” Secretary asks, keeping a cool demeanour.

Nikita thinks back remembering his lifepulse, “Nothing really to be fair.”

“Uh-huh.” Secretary says kneeling at her prisoners side, “If there wasn’t anything about him that would prevent it, then what actually did?”

Nikita thinks back to her time with the actor and draws a blank, “I don’t know.”

Secretary shakes her head, “And you were doing so well. If he didn’t stop it, what did?”

Nikita fearfully looks up and shakes her head, seeing Secretary reaching down for her, “It was between him and me. If it wasn’t him, I don’t know what to think.”

Secretary stands up straight again, “OK not deceptive, just really fucking dumb. If it was you and him and it wasn’t him, then....” Secretary says , motioning for Nikita to continue.

Nikita looks up puzzled, “Then it was me?”

“Wow. We got there eventually, I actually wondered if I was going to have to pull teeth. You chose not to because you really didn’t want a taste.” Secretary explains.

“So I can choose.” Nikita thinks to herself, before saying, “I just assumed that it was an automatic thing.”



Nikita tries to pulls her head away, annoyed when Secretary ruffles her hair. “Naw, pretty baby you are so cute when you are annoyed.”

“Get fucked.” Nikita spits, back.

Secretary giggles and steps back for a moment, “Was going to try to lighten the mood, but I guess we should press on.”

“That would be nice, thanks.” Nikita says with an edge of sarcasm.

“Why did you warn Dani not to come? I mean, you must have known it would break her heart.” Secretary asks, with something approaching sympathy.

“It is too much of a risk. If she comes and touches any Orichalcum, she will not be able to control the necrotic matter that comprises her body.” Nikita says, trying to stretch her back.

“Except with a thought you could give her the ability to handle Orichalcum and she would be fine.” Secretary says coldly, “However, you already know that.”

Nikita closes her eyes and bows her head, feeling a mixture of shame and guilt, “A part of me wants to shield everyone from getting sucked into the conflict here and the other part wants them to be on earth to protect it, in case we fail here.”

“Makes sense.” Secretary nods sagely then smiles content, before continuing, “It’s a lie, but it makes sense.”

“It’s the truth.” Nikita says, pleadingly.

Secretary shakes her head, wrapping her fingers once again around Nikita’s throat “Just because it is true, doesn’t mean it is the truth. This will go a lot quicker if you stop pissing about.”

“I swear it is to protect them.” Nikita says, weakly.

“Some one once said, we save our best lies for ourselves.” Secretary says, dragging Nikita to her feet, by the bar connected to her collar forcing the hook deeper, “You will tell me the truth if I have to drag it from you.”

Nikita tries to pull away, but Secretary’s grip is too strong. She cries in horror, but she cannot evade the noose around her neck as Secretary slips it over her head and pulls it taut. Secretary pulls on the end of the rope forcing Nikita to stand on her toes, just so she can breath.

“Guk. Please you don’t have to do this.” Nikita gasps.

“Tell me the truth.” Secretary says, calmly and firmly holding the rope.

Nikita struggles and tries to gain some slack in the noose by flexing her neck and twisting as best she can, but by degrees the rope slowly tightens. When her efforts bear no fruit, she begins to cry, “Please.”

“That depends on you.” Secretary says, gently. “I placed the rope around your neck, but only your confession can remove it.”

Nikita’s eyes bulge and she fights for every breath until, “OK. I admit it.” She pauses hoping for relief from the noose but none comes, “Dani rescued me, stopped the bomb in La Palma, rampaged as the Zombie and crushed and Undead army on Snositi. Sasha killed Price and the ancient necromancer and has a wonderful family. I have done nothing like that and I am in their shadow because of it.” Nikita says, broken hearted, “I am jealous of them. I need something for me. A legacy, that people can point to and say, ‘She came and she fucking did that.’ Then everyone will remember me for something I did, instead of being a part of someone else’s story.”

“Good.” Secretary coos, “Why is it so important to you?”

Nikita hangs her head, exhausted, “Because, I’m dying.”

[GreyLord]

Is anything harder to face than ourselves. So far, it reads as if Nikita will come out of this better than she went in. But, with the [mention]wolfman[/mention], a twist and a turn is always a possibility.

[Caesar73]

Is anything harder to face than ourselves. So far, it reads as if Nikita will come out of this better than she went in. But, with the @wolfman, a twist and a turn is always a possibility.

To read this was incredibly hard. Nikita went through so much already. But maybe, just maybe, the last paragraph of this chapter has a sliver of hope in it. But just maybe .....

[wolfman]

[mention]GreyLord[/mention]

Indeed we save the best lies for ourselves and there will be more truths about Nikita revealed. Will this change her, time will tell.

[mention]Caesar73[/mention]

This was hard to write too. I never seek to torture my characters without some form of payoff in the end. Watch this space

[wolfman]

“I didn’t think we would get there so fast.” Secretary says gently, “Why put yourself through it alone? Why not seek help?”

Nikita lays unfettered on the floor, wearing lycra shorts and a sports bra and brushes the hair out of her face, “Because, I don’t even know what it is. I just know that my lifepulse is fading and there is nothing I can do to stop it.”, she gingerly sits up and hugs her shins.

“How long do you think you have?” Secretary asks, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

“At the rate it has been fading, a few months, maybe a year, depending on how much I push myself.” She confesses. “So I decided to get out into the world and do as much good as I could. Create a legacy. Something that maybe could inspire others.”

“Or you could be at home, with people who love you and try to find a cure.” Secretary says, gently. Slowly and deliberately, she pours some squash into a glass and adds some water. She lowers the glass down to Nikita and holds it while she drinks deeply.

“I don’t want them to have to watch me die. When I get close to the end, I will tell Dani, I am going travelling and then swim to the ocean floor, change into worms and burrow under the sand and let nature take its course.” Nikita explains, sadly.

“Why not just go there now? You were integral to the La Palma operation, you have saved thousand of lives in your own right as a rescue technician, no to mention all of those you have secretly healed in their hospital beds. Lying again.” Secretary says, with a wave of her hand. “You have a legacy already, what you want is glory.”

Nikita hangs her head, “No.” She says firmly, “I want to feel like it was worth it. Having my family ripped away. All of the torture at the hands of Medteqniq. The pain of healing others which twists my insides each time. All I have been through, I just want it to mean something.”



With a wave of Secretary’s hand, Nikita is kneeling at the foot of a post. Her wrists and arms below her elbows are bound together tightly behind the post and each ankle is tied to its corresponding thigh. The worst part is that a cable is wound tightly around her body, from just above her breasts to the top of her panty line, compressing and covering her torso, pinning it harshly to the post.

“Fuck.” Nikita strains, “Why are you doing this? Why does it have to hurt so much?”

Secretary shrugs, “That’s on you. A part of you has decided that nothing worthwhile comes without suffering and so you have to suffer.”

“Screw you.” Nikita says between laboured breaths.

“Actually screw you. Your subconscious guides this and you are a dumbass in so many ways.” Secretary says, nonchalantly, “You don’t ever see what you have achieved, or all the good you have done.”

Nikita’s eyes bulge, as her jaws are stretched and a thick leather bar is jammed between her teeth, clamped in place to the pole. Reflexively she tries to shake her head, but it refuses to budge, held fast.

Secretary slowly crosses the room and opens a door in front of Nikita, that wasn’t there a moment ago. The she walks around Nikita and opens a door behind her.

“There have been so many voices that you haven’t listened to. Now, you have no choice.” Secretary says, gently.



Nikita looks down, when a small girl in a pretty yellow summer dress and straw hat walks in front of her. The child looks up, wide eyed, not seeming fazed about Nikita’s strange predicament.

“My name is Annie. When I was four years old, I got sick and mummy and daddy cried a lot. I went to the hospital and was in a room for a very long time.” The child has a look of concentration on her face and looks both serious and comical in a way only a five year old can, “Then you came and mummy and daddy stopped crying. Now we have a dog. Thank you Nikita.”

Annie leans up and places a gentle kiss on Nikita’s cheek the smiles and walks away, waving before she leaves.

“Annie had leukaemia, the doctors caught it too late and she was going to die, until I stepped in.” Nikita remembers, fondly.



Nikita hears the familiar clomp of military boots. She watches the tall gruff US Marine Corporal, as he approaches from behind, “Six months ago, we were sent to provide humanitarian aid, in an action that was never officially sanctioned. I was transporting medical supplies and we were ambushed. I spent four days in hell and knew I was going to die.”

He shudders, reliving that moment, before forcing himself to move past it, “Then all hell broke loose and when the bullets and bombs stopped there you were, like a vision. You got me out of there, just a jar head you had never met.”

“I will never forget what you did for me. I was given a medical discharge due to my injuries, but then I got a job in cyber security and met the woman who would become my wife. I owe everything to you.” The corporal says, snapping a salute.



Before she has time to think, a thin black man in faded denim shorts and a khaki shirt stands before her. She looks down at him confused.

“You don’t know me.” He begins, speaking with a deep Somalian accent, “Last year the wells ran dry in our village and we had to go fifty miles for water. Then a woman called Anastasia Kornikova came. She and her team dug deeper than we ever could and gave us water, so we could live.” He explains, still leaving Nikita confused.

“At night we would sit around the camp fire and talk and she told me that a few months earlier, she was trapped in the Ukraine, until a woman called Nikita helped her and her family escape the country. Because you did that, she saved us.” He pauses for a moment, “You saved us.”

She remembers the woman now, the squalor, the terror she and her family felt as Nikita drove a stolen Russian supply truck through an artillery barrage to Kyiv. “Well how about that.” She thinks with a smile.



Dani and Sasha step in front of her next, each giving her a hug. “Hello you soppy sod. What the hell have you gotten yourself into.” Dani says, with a grin, “We have been in some wild scrapes babe. I have lost count of the times you have saved me.”

“Same here, babe.” Sasha adds, “Right back to when you came back to life and saved us from Lund’s people, you have been saving lives. You should be called Guardian, not me.”

“No idea what you are playing at, babe. Give us a bell, when you get out of this. Would be good to have a catch up.” Dani says, warmly.

“The girls say hi and want to know when Auntie Niki is going to spar with them.” Sasha giggles, “I keep telling them that they aren’t ready, but they won’t listen.”

“Tell them when they can take you, they will still not be ready for Niki.” Dani says lighting a cigarette.

“I will tell ‘em when they can take you, they will not be ready for me, let alone Niki “ Sasha says with a wink.

“Funny.” Dani says, “All I need to is put a bag round you and you are done for.”

“True. In a fair fight, I would whoop you though.” Sasha says, defensively.

Dani snorts, “Why would I give you a fair fight?”

“You would attack my with my back turned?” Sasha asks, with her eyebrows raised.

“If I had reason to, I would attack you on the loo.” Dani shrugs, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

Nikita laughs behind her gag, thinking, “Soppy sods. I do miss them.”

She feels a tear in her eye, when Sasha and Dani wave goodbye and step out of the room.



And then the next person comes. And the next. And the next. Each with their own story to tell of how either Nikita saved her, or how by virtue of Nikita’s actions found their lives improved. Hundreds upon hundreds pay homage. Hour after hour, until they stop and Secretary closes the doors.

Secretary pours more squash and adds ice cold water and with a wave Nikita is no longer gagged. She flexes her jaw and stretches her neck, then gulps greedily when the drink is offered.

Emotionally and physically drained, Nikita hangs limply, held aloft by the cables that bind her. Weakly, she raises her head to look up at Secretary, “I had no idea there were so many.”

“You have touched so many lives. This was not everyone either, only those upon whom you have had the most impact.” Secretary says, when there is a tiny knock at the door, “Looks like I missed one.”

Nikita hears the door behind her open and then hears tiny uncertain footsteps approach. She looks down at the three year old girl, in dungarees and a red t-shirt. The black haired, pale skinned child with big blue eyes stares up at her, open mouthed.

Nikita stares at the child, with nothing but love in her eyes and sees that love reflected back a thousand fold. “She is so perfect. Even more beautiful than the last time I saw her.” Nikita thinks, barely able to suppress a tear.

The child shakily approaches Nikita and hugs her, resting her head on her shoulder. “I remember you.” The child whispers, gently “I love you mummy.”

Nikita feels a lightness flow into her, as a weight lifts inside of her. “I love you too, Mia.”

Nikita feels the pain of the cables fade and slowly she can move her arms and legs again. She embraces her daughter and pulls her close.

Secretary whispers in to Nikita’s ear, “Take your time. We will continue shortly.”, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Secretary, closes the door, sealing in the sounds of giggling and play within the room.

[Caesar73]

This chapter was so touching in so many ways - that I think it would not do the whole composition to single one episode, one line out of context. So selfless Nikita is that she has not appreciated what she has done, that she had an impact - and in all the darkness all the despair, there might be a silver line of hope at the horizon. [mention]wolfman[/mention] you are doing an incredible job! Over and over again - even if the road is so dark as in that moments wie learn about.

[GreyLord]

This was poignant, [mention]wolfman[/mention]. Even though fiction, it touches the heart.

[Caesar73]

This was poignant, @wolfman. Even though fiction, it touches the heart.

Absolutely - so very very touching!

[OldTUGger]

Well written, wolfman! You even brought a lump to the throat of a flinty old geezer.

[wolfman]

[mention]Caesar73[/mention] [mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]OldTUGger[/mention]

Thank you for your kind worda gentlemen. More than any other character in this tale, Nikita has been defined by darkness. She fights the darkness in the world without hesitation, but it is when she sees the light that she truly shines. She has faced her demons and mostly won. She can do the unthinkable. The only thing she can't do is believe in herself.

Her ordeala are hard and the challenges many, but in the end she may find peace and happiness.

[GreyLord]

...
Her ordeala are hard and the challenges many, but in the end she may find peace and happiness.

May she, indeed!

[wolfman]

Nikita gives a tearful wave, bidding Mia goodbye.

“Thank you for that.” Nikita says, feeling Secretary behind her.

“I am not a monster. I am here to cleanse you. Remove your unwanted baggage and purify you.” Secretary says, “This process kills many, especially those who fight against it. You are different. Your adaptability is serving you well.”

Nikita thinks for a moment, then decides to take a gamble, “I started thinking that you were a part of me awakened by the ritual to enact the purging. But now, I am not so sure.”

Secretary smiles, leaning back against a wall, “Do tell.” She says, inscrutably.

“You always say you or your, never we or our. So that could be an indication that you are separate. Now you say about others who have undertaken it.” Nikita says, half thinking aloud. “And you left me with Mia, instead of spending time with her. She is a part of me and I feel that pull from her. If you were a part of me, you would feel it too.”

Secretary watches, almost seeing the cogs turning in her mind, as she thinks. She smiles again, as if a favoured child is making her parent proud. “Keep going. Trust your instincts.”

Nikita looks at Secretary with fresh eyes, “I think you are an entity of some kind. Not Phobos though, he would have to be very old.”

“So far, so good.” Secretary says, challenging Nikita.

“Are you an Annunaki?” Nikita asks, thoughtfully.

“You tell me.” Secretary says, with an inscrutable smile.

“Yes, I think you might be.” Nikita says, softly.

“And if I am and you have discovered my secret?” Secretary raises and eyebrow.

“I am just curious to know, if I am right.” Nikita says, with a shrug.

Secretary pauses, as if holding her breath. “Shall we continue?”

Nikita considers pushing the point, but shrugs it off. “Can’t get enough of me tied up and suffering, eh?” She smiles, anticipating the pain to come, “Shall we.”



Nikita groans as time shifts again. Once more she is naked. This time with her wrists and ankles locked to opposite corners of the bed with heavy shackles.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to suck?” Nikita asks, gently pulling on her bonds.

“We are nearly at the end of our journey.” Secretary says, dressed in a silver nurse’s uniform. “What have you learned so far?”

Nikita considers the question before she says, “I have made a difference and it was all worth it. Mum and dad dying wasn’t my fault.” She thinks for a moment, before continuing, “That and I have a choice with my powers.”

“Anything else.” Secretary asks, pouring squash into a glass and adding some water, before taking a sip.

Nikita squirms a little on the table, feeling a chill from the metal, “My daughter is the most beautiful girl, I have ever seen and when I am gone she will live on.”

Secretary wobbles her head and then nods, “So far, so good.” “We are mostly done. However, to finish you must be willing give up something, that you will not get back, that hurts you more than you know.”

Nikita raises an eyebrow and tilts her head, “No offence, but that sounds really vague and dodgy as fuck.”

Secretary betrays no emotion and simply sips the squash, “As you say, you have a choice with your abilities. It’s at this point, that most of those who fail, stumble.”

Nikita thinks of her sisters, Kim and her sisters, Liam and everyone she cares about and then smiles, “I haven’t got a lot of time left, so we might as well get this done.”

“Is that a yes?” Secretary asks, leaning forward slightly.

Nikita nods, nervously, “It is a yes. Sometimes, you have to trust the process. Will it hurt?”

Secretary smiles down, benevolently, “No more than it has to.”

“What will I lose?” Nikita asks, slowing her breathing.

“The animal traits you have taken from the lifepulses of others.” Secretary says, calmly, “All of them.”

Nikita’s eyes go wide, “Hold on a second, I use them every day. They are a part of who I am.”

“If you cut open your leg and force a sirloin steak, into the meat of your thigh muscle, does it make you stronger?” Secretary asks, wisely, before draining the squash.

Nikita looks around confused, “Are you taking the piss? Of course it won’t.”

“Exactly. It might make it look bigger, but it will not enhance the size of the muscle. However, if you digest the steak, the protein could help build muscle.” Secretary explains, before pouring more squash into the glass and adding water.

“True, but I don’t understand what you mean.” Nikita says, watching Secretary pours the drink and take her first sip. “Unless...”

“Yes?” Secretary asks, with a glint in her eye.

“When I consume bodily fluids, I absorb traits and memories into my experience.” Nikita says, trying to piece it together, “When I swipe traits, I don’t absorb them, I force a part of my lifepulse to retain them.” Secretary remains silent, letting her continue, “By doing that, I am diluting my lifepulse, making it appear dimmer.”

“And relax.” Secretary says, with a smile, “I think she might have got it.”

Nikita stares at the ceiling and swallows hard, “Am I dying?” She asks, not daring to hope.

“You have swiped traits from as many animals and people as you could. As a result, over time, your lifepulse has become heavily diluted.” Secretary says, raising her glass, “Been hinting enough.”

“Take them, every last one. I have a life to live.” Nikita says, laying back on the table and bracing herself for the blades, icy caress.

Secretary smiles, gently, “When this is over, we have just one question left.”

Nikita hears the clanking of chains, then feels her wrists and ankles being pulled in different directions. She grits her teeth against the pain and feels her body pulled tight.

Secretary places a cool hand on Nikita’s forehead. “This is to keep you still, until we tear all of the kinks from your lifepulse and release all of the swiped animal traits.” She coos, softly, “This will hurt.”

Nikita cries out in pain, as Secretary slides an ice cold hand into her lifepulse and seizes the first knot she finds. As Secretary wraps her fist around the knot and pulls, Nikita screams and writhes. “Fuck she is pulling me inside out.”

Secretary plants her foot on Nikita’s rib cage and heaves. With a pop, the pressure eases and a spectral octopus rises from her body and dissipates. Secretary coos softly, “Well done, first is the easiest.”

Nikita’s body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat and she stares at Secretary with cold, hard eyes and whispers, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”



Over and over, she is pulled, twisted squeezed. She is hoarse from screaming after the first hundred but endures. Agony upon agony as more animal traits are excised. Birds, fish, insects, mammals and reptiles until only one remains.

“Are you ready for the last one?” Secretary asks, before adding, “That is not the final question.”

Nikita feels the Lioness within her and embraces it one last time, before she nods, “It’s time.”

With a silent scream she bids the last swiped trait farewell and her lifepulse is no longer part Lioness or anything else. Nikita opens her eyes, feeling alone in her body once again. “It feels strange. I have had them with me for so long.” She realises that the chains are gone and she is wearing a kimono.

The steel table transforms into a sumptuous sofa and Secretary helps Nikita to sit. Secretary has changed too, now wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “You are going to be OK.”

Nikita takes a slow breath and exhales, feeling lighter somehow, “I think I will.” She says, accepting a glass of wine from Secretary. “I will miss them and what they let me do, though.” She says, fondly remembering the power of octopoid strength, lions claws and birds wings.



“Are you ready for the last question?” Secretary asks, getting up from the sofa, where she had sat with Nikita.

Nikita lights a cigarette, then has a sip of wine, before answering, “Go for it.”

Secretary smiles, knowingly, “Where did your fangs come from?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.” Nikita answers, confused.

“Let me rephrase the question.” Secretary, says lightly, pausing for a moment, before continuing, “Back when Dani and Sasha found you at the Medteqniq facility. You had fangs. Where did they come from?”

“Well I....” Nikita stops mid sentence with a faraway look in her eyes, “I’ve never really though about it.”

“During the experiments, they didn’t give you any predatory animal meat or blood. They gave you meat, but nothing with fangs like you had, so where did they come from?” Secretary asks, gently.

Nikita smokes thoughtfully, describing the scene as she relives it in her mind, “They pulled me off of the metal spike and left me, while they went to deal with a security team.”

Secretary sits back and lets Nikita continue, “I woke up after I had healed and felt drained. I got off of the table for the first time in months and it felt odd to stand again and walk around. I remember looking down and seeing myself covered in blood and thinking that I needed replace what I’d lost.”

Nikita stands up and walks over to where the wine bottle rests and refills her glass. “I hear sounds of people fighting and felt this energy call to me, so I went to find the source of the noise.”

I moved through the smoke outside and saw Dani and Sasha in the van, with a guy with his back to me. I knew I needed blood so I bit him.” Nikita says, unsure of herself.

“Interesting.” Secretary says, thoughtfully. “Still doesn’t answer the question though.”

“No, it doesn’t really.” Nikita says, feeling a thought, just outside of her reach. She snorts a laugh to herself, “When I think back I must have looked a sight. Stark naked, pale skinned, covered in blood with massive fangs, I must have looked like a....” She stops herself, her eyes going wide, “Vampire.”

A grin slowly creeps across Secretary’s lips and she raises an eyebrow, “Yes, you must have.”

“I created them.” Nikita says, with a dawning realisation.

“Yes, you did.” Secretary says, with a wink. Then let’s the point settle, “You took traits from animals and used their abilities. However, they were just templates, you have always been able to create your own traits.”

Nikita looks at her, almost with alarm, “The crab’s pincers.” She says, breathless, “I never swiped them from anything, yet I was able to use them against the Annunakin.”

“True. I was going to ask where they came from, but decided to ask about the fangs instead.” Secretary confesses, before turning serious, “The traits you swiped are gone, you are now pure once more. You have abilities, you have not begun to explore. Now is the time to ascend into your power, Nikita Green.”

[Caesar73]

That was such an intense chapter again [mention]wolfman[/mention] - Nikita exploring herself. Giving up something but a getting a much more precious thing in return. Her life. A new life.

[GreyLord]

Indeed, so very intense. Also very complex. Kudos once again, [mention]wolfman[/mention].

[wolfman]

[mention]Caesar73[/mention] [mention]GreyLord[/mention]

Now she is free to become all she can be. She can be the version of herself she was always meant to be.

Will ahe build alow or go all out? Only time will tell.

[wolfman]

Nikita feels sensation return in a rush, as if returning to her body at light speed. She lays still slowly breathing, exploring every inch of her body with her senses. “That felt like about a month, but it was only a couple of days.”

“It is good to be back.” She whispers, under her breath with a smile, “Everything feels more....” she pauses, looking for the right word, “More.”

She opens her eyes and her gasps in wonder, seeing every spectrum of light. She marvels looking at her hand, seeing every pore, and tracing the patterns of her finger prints, whilst at the same time seeing the bones within. “That is cool, but could be distracting.” She blinks, returning her vision to normal.

Nikita feels the electromagnetic fields emanating from the electrical cables set in the wall and feels her surroundings. The silk of the blanket covering her, feels cool and luxurious against her skin in a way, silk never had before.

She looks at her lifepulse and gasps, “My God. It is brighter than it has ever been. I never realised what I was doing to myself. I have done so much in my life, but I can now do so much more.”

She looks down at her hand and thinks for a moment, “Why not try something new?” She think, contemplatively. She thinks for a moment and visualises her hand changing.

Each of her fingers, slowly thins and lengthens. Until each finger is in the form of a thin, two foot long, razor edged blade. Then the form shifts, compressing and becoming a spiked ball of bone.

Nikita climbs slowly from the bed, her absolute control of her body manifesting in almost supernatural grace. She flexes all of her muscles, extending three inch long barbed spikes from every inch of her body.

The spikes flatten into an interlaced network of steel hard plates each less than an inch across but layered so she came move unimpeded and still be protected from all sides.

She looks around the sparsely furnished room and nods to herself. The armour withdraws and she breathes slow coaxing a pair of eagles wings from her shoulder blades. The muscles of her back and chest swells and with a twitch she is aloft and another keeps her there. “OK. I think I am ready to face the word.”



Nikita frowns approaching the door, sensing the disquiet of her Heralds, when she opens the door, the feeling of relief washing through them is almost palpable.

Wulf gazes at her with tears in his eyes, “Nikita, it is so good to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?”

“Lighter.” She says, thoughtfully. “What’s going on?”

“Soon after you went under, the horde came.” Wulf says, exhausted, “And they kept coming. We have been bombarding Daemos almost constantly, but the number kept growing.”

“I see. Are the Annunakin contained?” Nikita asks, thinking, “No rest for the wicked.”

“Barely. The bombardment and sustained fire, saw them forming several cohorts and the flow from the portal has stopped for now.” Xang explains, pensive.

“The fire platforms have held their own and the rapid response craft are cutting a swathe but the numbers have been so huge.” Oscar confirms, pausing before continuing, “Cassius, has got boots on the ground, in a bid to focus the enemy but the soldiers are at a stalemate .”

“He knows that air power is enough to win a battle, but to hold ground requires a presence.” Nikita says, thoughtfully.

“You can see the latest on the news. It is about to start.” Oscar announces, calmly.



The camera starts shaky, but soon settles. The camera appears to be held by a reporter, looking out of the side of a circling aircraft.

“Coming into frame is a hastily built compound surrounded by heavy sandbag walls, dropped into place by shuttle craft and left where they landed.” The male report says, describing the scene as only a person without combat training can describe a warzone. “The sandbags are large and the wall is easily three metres thick and six metres high, propped up against the heavy steel walls of the compound.”

The camera zooms in on an older figure striding along the ramparts, patting soldiers on the shoulders as he passes. None of the men break position from firing but all can be seen mouthing the word “Sir!”

“General Cassius, leading from the front as he always does. With commanders as committed to supporting their men as he is, we are in safe hands.” The camera swings away, tracking several large, inbound military aircraft. “And here we see reinforcements for Camp Shouit, coming in hot.”

The chunky aircraft pass over at speed, with men stepping off of the backs of them dropping straight down into the camp. The camera tracks down, following one recruit from the aircraft, two hundred metres down, to the ground where he rapidly slows, coming to a halt a few centimetres off of the ground. The man marches from his landing spot, to his designated post barely breaking his stride.

The focus shifts again, this time on the open ground in front of the Camp. A mob of Annunakin approaches the wall, charging at speed. Gyrojet rounds fly straight and true, each finding its mark and exploding with a low crump. Annunakin either side of the target fly aside, with deep gouged scorch marks, dead.

Rounds from thirty or more shooters launch in volleys, with a gap of a few seconds between shots, as the mob draws closer. On the rampart, General Cassius is seen to give orders that cannot be heard from this distance.

The gyrojets fly more frequently, slamming into the ground at the feet of the approaching mob taking out the legs of those at the front, then following up with another shot when those behind, trip over those in front.

The camera pans from the mob, back to the ramparts, showing steely eyed soldiers, taking careful aim and firing at their own pace.

On the peripheral firing platform, surrounding the compound, soldiers take aim, whilst other operators move along the line replenishing ammunition.

Within the compound, several large tents stand, their contents veiled from the camera.

Explosions and gunfire echo loudly in the background, while the reporter speaks, “The fighting is intense here as Atlantean forces, mount a valiant defence of the first beachhead established on Daemos, since our retreat four years ago.” The reporter explains, “This is just the latest wave of Annunakin forces, who continue to probe and test Camp Shouit’s defences.”

“Something is happening.” The report says as the thirty metre deep mass of creatures, reaches the foot of the sandbag wall. Half of the soldiers, switch their aim to the centre of the mass of creatures, while, the other switch to their sub machine guns and engage the leading edge of the formation.

“Here we see the new Champion smg's, in action for the first time, after their deployment.” The reporter says, almost reverentially. The camera shows, bullets tearing into the oncoming horde, chewing them up and effectively spitting them out, while the assault on the heart of the mob, slows the approach of follow up.

The creatures abandon their attempt halfway up the sandbags and turn tail to beat a retreat. The soldiers pepper the retreating forces with smg and gyrojet fire, becoming more sporadic the further away they get.

When the firing finally stops, the reporter speaks again, “This battle is won. But who knows what the next assault will bring. Back to the studio for our other stories of the day.”



The screen changes to show an Atlantean woman in her thirties, with well kept dark hair and refined cheek bones, addressing the camera, “Thank you John.” She says, professionally, “In a round up of other news. The King was challenged on his position regarding the use of nuclear, biological or chemical weapons, stating, “Just because the Annunakin are a non sapient species, does not mean that we should pursue victory through their suffering or inhumane treatment.” Drawing criticism, due to his apparent, sympathy for the enemy, at the cost of Atlantean lives.”

The anchor looks at the other camera, “Whilst others welcome the value he places on life of all forms.” She shuffles her papers and takes a breath, “Atlantis holds its breath, waiting for word on the condition of Champion of Daemos, Nikita Green, following her submission to the rite of purging four days ago. No word has been heard on her condition following the inception of the ancient rite. However, following her actions saving the King and slaying almost a thousand Annunakin there is little doubt in the minds of most Atlanteans that she will once again prevail.”



Oscar turns off the broadcast, sits back in his seat, “That is about the size of things as they stand right now.”

“I have questions.” Nikita says, staring into the middle distance.

“Had a feeling that you would.” Aldo says, relaxing, “Go for it.”

Nikita lights a cigarette, the asks, “How did the soldiers drop so far without a parachute?”

“Soldiers are equipped with an arrester as standard.” Wulf says, off handedly. Seeing Nikita’s raised eyebrow, he goes on to explain, “It’s a portable field generator. When it senses the wearer approaching the ground, it siphons off kinetic energy and storing it for later release, as thermal energy. This acts like a brake and is much more controlled that a parachute.”

“That is interesting.” Nikita says, taking a lungful of smoke, “Am I right in thinking that you use energy fields in your aircraft and platforms?”

Xang nods, “Yeah, as we have finite resources in terms of energy generation, we have turned away from fossil fuels, using more solar, wind and hydroelectric.”

A soft knock at the door, draws everyone’s attention and Oscar attends, giving words of thanks to the person outside and returning with a tray of bread, cheeses, cured meat and salad. With a bottle of wine on the side, “We don’t need to cover everything now. You must rest and eat before the furore begins.”

Nikita opens her mouth to protest, but knows he is right and softens. Taking a slice of bread and some cheese to start. “It has been a bit of a whirlwind to be fair.”

“Less than two weeks in Atlantis and for quite a bit of that, you have been recovering from either injury or ritual.“ Oscar says, gently. “No one doubts how capable you are or the impact you can make. As for as that goes you have nothing to prove.”

Nikita smiles to herself, thinking, “For the first time in such a long time, I actually don’t feel like I have to prove anything.”

“You are still trending on media in Atlantis. Chatter about you is almost exclusively positive from saving the King, to undergoing the ritual to prove your purity of heart.” Aldo says, with a smile, “You resonate with the young of Atlantis. Girls as young as ten have been seen, dressed like you, with dyed hair and contact lenses.”

“I have been contacted by a number of the groups in question and have passed down your tenets.” Xang confirms, with a smile.

“My tenets?” Nikita says, warily.

“Be open minded. Be ready. Be humble. Be kind.” Xang says, with a nervous smile.

Nikita smiles to herself, “I guess I hadn’t thought about them like that.”

“There are dozens of girls volunteering to help in hospitals, food distribution, and civil projects in your name. You are a role model.” Aldo says, with a smile and a wink.

The four Heralds exchange a glance before Wulf speaks up, “You could do a lot of good here. Even more than you have already. The Annunakin keep coming and people are afraid that the next time they come, they won’t be held. Now here you are and we have a wild card.”

“I don’t follow you.” Nikita says, confused.

“Cassius is an excellent general and the armed forces are highly professional, however, overall our tactics stay the same and we push back to a stalemate” Wulf says, “We need something new to break the cycle, push them back and give us a chance to close the portal to the Annunakin homeworld.”

Aldo takes a bite from an open faced, brie and grape sandwich, before speaking up, “Phobos is another one. He is seeking to recreate the secrets of the past to close the portal, instead of researching new applications for magic.”

“Steady on. He has rediscovered a wealth of historic rites and crafted countless relics for use against the Annunakin.” Xang chips in. “Corven on the other hand, refines what we have, but does not innovate. He doesn’t take risks at all, always taking the safe route.”

“What about Galton? She has redefined the supply chain. Doubling output, in farms and fisheries and creating extra capacity in food distribution and now no Atlantean goes hungry.” Wulf adds, in a respectful tone.

“The King wants the best for his people and by all accounts has given a carte blanch to all of the pillars, to test new ideas.” Wulf says, “He wants a period of prosperity for Atlantis.”

“However, first we need peace.” Xang says, grimly.



Nikita sits deep in thought, “If I call in the others, this could be over within a week.” She thinks, closing her eyes, “But that would be our victory not an Atlantean one. They have fought for so long and if victory is not by their hands, it could rip the heart our of the nation. I can help, but they need to be a part of this victory. This will have a lot of moving parts but it might work.”

She opens her eyes, first looking to Oscar, “Can you get me footage of the horde? I need to see their attack formations, how they gather, what spurs the horde to begin surging. Also any research Atlantis has on them.”

Nikita turns to Wulf, “Can you get me a meeting with Corven? I need to ask him something.”

“The pillars are meeting in two days. They will want to see you following your completion of the ritual.” Wulf says, thoughtfully.

Nikita frowns , “I might only need five minutes with him, at his discretion. Sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Wulf says, with a nod and a smile.

“Would be handy to speak to all of them before they meet again to be fair.” Nikita says, before nodding to Aldo, “Can you give him a hand?”

“Of course, Nikita.” Aldo says with a smile.

Nikita thinks for a while, “Nikita is too formal.” Her gaze sweeps across all of her Heralds when she adds, “Call me Niki or Chief.”

Everyone nods and a burble of “Niki.” rises.

Xang looks up thoughtfully and asks, “You got anything for me?”

Nikita thinks for a moment, before coming to a decision, “Yes. I need something collected.”

“No problem. I am guessing it is not in Atlantis.” Xang says stretching his neck and back.

“Correct.” Nikita says, dispelling her doubts, “Can you get to Ulaanbaatar and back before the pillars meet?”

Xang frowns for a moment and then raises his eyebrows, “Will be tight, but if I leave within the hour, it might be OK.”

“Cool. Go to the largest market in the city, turn to face the clock tower. Take the road to the left of it and head north, when the road splits, go left until you reach a pond, walk clockwise around it to get to a rowing boat.” Nikita pauses for a moment, letting him note directions, before continuing, “Under the seat is a key. Take it to the shed behind a green building onshore. Inside you will find a blue suitcase and a black one too. I need them both.”

“What’s in the cases?” Xang asks, curiously.

“Something from my past, that can be used to build a future.” Nikita says, with an inscrutable smile.

[GreyLord]

Wonderful mystery, [mention]wolfman[/mention]. Reading your work is always such a high point for me. Thank you.

[wolfman]

Wonderful mystery, @wolfman. Reading your work is always such a high point for me. Thank you.

I try to change things up a bit to keep it fresh. Rest assured this tale is not yet done and i am not finished with Nikita's journey yet.

[wolfman]

Orange tinged sunlight, creeps into the room, giving the modern styled office a burnished appearance. Guild master Corven, rubs his greying temples at the end of a long day.

The middle aged man pours a generous glass of apple brandy and rests back in his seat.

He rubs the tumbler against his forehead, savouring the feel of the cool glass against his brow, “What a day.” He thinks to himself, “Production of the Nikita SMG's is ahead of schedule and we are finally set up to churn out the ammunition needed. It is never enough though.”

A soft knock at the door, pulls him away from his thoughts. He takes a hard slug of brandy and takes a deep breath, before calmly saying, “Come in.”

He sets down his glass and rises to his feet to greet his guest, “Miss Green. I must say you are looking well after the ritual. How does the day find you?” As she walks in and takes his hand, he notes he choice of traditional tunic in red and light, strapped saddles, thinking, “Starting to look like a native.”

Nikita smiles and nods, “The day finds me well. How does the day find you Guild master?” Nikita says pleased she remembered his title.

“It finds me well also. Please. Take a seat.” He says, indicating a chair before taking a seat himself. “Would you like a drink?”

Nikita takes a seat, smoothing out the creases from her tunic, she smiles and nods, “That is very nice of you. Thank you very much.”

Corven pulls another glass our of the chilled drawer in his desk and pours a generous measure of apple brandy, “To your very good health.” He proposes a toast.

Nikita clicks his glass with her own, “To yours too and may the best of your past be the worst of your future.”

“I like that, i will be using that in future.” The older man says, with a tilt of his head.

They both sip their drinks and then Corven sets his down and rests his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together, “So.” He begins, not wanting to rush, “What brings the Champion of Daemos to my door?”

Nikita smiles warmly and takes another sip of the brandy, enjoying the feel of its warmth slowly descending down her throat, “I am still trying to get to grips with things here and I have a few questions. I was hoping you might indulge me.” She says, feigning an innocent tone.

Corven drains his glass, then tops it up with another generous slug of the apple brandy, before answering in a mock gruff tone, “Ah yes. The naive and beautiful young woman, with questions only the wise old man can answer. So cliché. However, from what the King says, you have a unique way of looking at things, so please ask.”

Nikita takes another sip of the potent drink and feels its warmth radiate from her core, “How do arresters work?”

The older man leans back in his seat and raises his eyebrows, “Not what I was expecting you to ask. How technical do you want me to go?”

Nikita thinks for a moment, before suggesting, “Interested lay person.”

“Fair enough.” Corven nods, “When an object moves, it possesses kinetic energy. The more it possesses, the greater potential movement it has.” He looks up at Nikita seeing she is still with him, “The calculations are very long and involve taking into account mass and velocity.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in as he takes a long draught of brandy, then continues, “The arrester works, by siphoning and redirecting this energy away harmlessly, thus robbing a person of momentum.”

Nikita nods thinking, “That matches how it was explained to me. This might be viable.”

Corven smiles, warmly asking, “Does that answer your question?”

Nikita smiles brightly, with a twinkle in her eyes, “Instead of the wearer, could the arrester rob the momentum of an incoming object and redirect the energy straight back at the object?”

Corven chuckles, “An interesting idea. What kind of object were you thinking of slowing down?”

Nikita shrugs, “I dunno. A tennis ball. A car.” She pauses for effect and the offhandedly adds, “An Annunakin.”

The words hang in the air, as Corven’s smile fades and a more serious look, graves his features, “A tennis ball, yes sure, but the others....” his voice trails off.

“From the way you explained it is just variables in mass and velocity. Why are the other things different?” Nikita asks, hoping her hunch is correct.

“Why, indeed?” Corven says, absent mindedly, his mind already performing dozens of calculations.

Nikita opens her mouth to speak, however, Corven leans sharply forward in his chair and snatches up his phone, “Orisha, cancel my calls for the rest of the day and get all design and programming leads online, within five minutes.”

Nikita watches this man’s placid demeanour evaporate in an instant as his fingers fly across the keyboard. He turns from the keyboard while his fingers still dance across the keys, “You ask an interesting question. Once I have an answer I will let you know.”

“Thank you for your time.” Nikita says, knowing her time for meaningful dialogue is at an end, “I look forward to hearing from you.”




Galton heaves another bail of hay off of the transport and begins breaking it up for the sheep in the field. The sun has set but, this is necessary for the flock to eat in the morning. Her tractor looms over her. The eight, six foot tall wheels, jet black against its silvery polished Hull.

She barely registers the approaching figure, until they are within the cone of light emanating from her vehicle. “Help you?” She asks, reaching for another bail.

“I was told, I would find you here.” Nikita says brightly.

Galton barely acknowledges the newcomer, simply saying, “Turns out you were told correctly. What do you want? No offense, I am busy.”

Nikita grabs a bail and hefts it one hand it, the shreds and spreads it with the claws of her other hand. “Thought you might want a hand.”

“Appreciate it.” Galton says, with a snort adding, “But do me the honour of being honest. I am one of the pillars, but I am the poor relation of the others. I am not military, or a weapon manufacturer and have not supernatural power, I only control food production.”

Before she can reach for the next bail, Nikita grabs and shreds it, “I mean no disrespect. You and your people feed a nation. I merely want to know, if I needed to get animal blood, would you be able to help?”

Galton thinks for a moment, before saying, “Depends how much you need?”

Nikita waits for a few moments, until Galton reaches the next field and dismounts to take another bail. “Based on bovine and porcine blood, initially one to two gallons per day.” Nikita raises a hand and grabs another bail, shredding and spreading it.

“Easy, we produce a hundred gallons of both per day.” Galton says, calmly.

“Good to know. That could really be helpful.” Nikita says, with a smile, “Speaking of helpful, my offer stands, do you need a hand with anything? Have been a bit inactive for a few days and fancy a bit of exercise.”

Galton chuckles, “Could always use a bit of help. Even though we have a lot of people, there is a lot to be done.”

Nikita shrugs, “Such as.”

“Due to commitments to military production, some equipment we need is not available. I have three borehole sites for wells that need to be dug out and no sign of when we will get the gear.” Galton says, lighting a pipe.

“Count you show me one of the sites?” Nikita asks lightly.

Galton shrugs, waving a hand towards her tractor, “Why not?”



Nikita looks at the ground, thinking, “Heavy soil, high clay content. The well site is chalked out, and there are a load of long pitons to mark it out more visibly.” She looks up at Galton, “How deep?”

“We need to go at least thirty feet down.” Galton says, resignedly. “Would take one of my brigades a good few days and we are busy harvesting in other areas.”

Nikita sees the strain in the older woman’s eyes and nods, “No one knows how hard you work do they?” Galton turns away, hiding a tear, as Nikita continues, “I can’t promise miracles, but if you could find us some coffee, I’ll make a start.”

“Really? Now? The sun has already set.” Galton says, surprised and confused.

Nikita jumps down from the eight wheeled behemoth that Galton refers to as her tractor, “Perfect time. Air is cooler and I will be able to work harder.”

Galton chuckles to herself and waves, “I think I can get us some coffee.”

Once Galton is out of sight, Nikita transforms into worms and dives into the ground, in an almost perfect square a metre across and digs down six feet. She gathers herself under the block and slowly reforms into a turtle with a square back, supporting the weight of the earth. Then she lengthens her legs, pushing the earth out of the ground.

Nikita looks at the first hole and whispers to herself, “That was cool. Let’s change it up a little.”

Next to the first hole, she digs another, this time twelve feet deep. This time, extending, thin tentacles around the column before lifting to add stability.

Over the next twenty minutes, she has dug a number of other columns each deeper than the last with the final one being forty two feet, a full twelve feet deeper that the level of the water table.

With the final column out of the way, she begins cutting steps into each of the levels to make a staircase leading to the bottom. Before compacting the soil in the well down.

She hears the rumble of Galton’s tractor and climbs out of the hole after pushing the last of the pitons deep into the side wall of the well.

Galton pulls up astonished at the sight before her, when Nikita climbs out of the hole. She stares dumbfounded when Nikita plucks a coil of rope from the side of the tractor and returns to the hole.

Galton climbs down and approaches the hole seeing Nikita run the rope between the pitons, making a handrail for anyone using the stairs.

Nikita turns at the sound of Galton chuckling, “No miracles, you said.”

“Yeah, I know. You might want to set some planks on the steps, to make it a little safer. I would also recommend, shoring up the sides of the well to increase stability in the longer term.”

Galton pours a coffee from her flask and passes the scorching hot brew to Nikita. “That we will do.”

Nikita takes a gulp of the brew and feels its warmth slowly radiate through her core. “Mmm that is really good. Deep, yet mellow with a rounded flavour and an undertone of chicory and maple.”

Galton winks, “My own special blend.”

Nikita smiles and takes another slug, “Delicious. Honestly that could be one of the best coffees, I have ever tasted.”

Galton leans back against the fender of her tractor, “Why did you really come to see me? You could have asked your heralds to get it for you. I find it hard to believe you just wanted to dig a few holes and drink coffee.”

Nikita considers the contents of the cup for a moment, “After the ritual, I am at peace with my past. However, I want to build a future and I am wondering if this is the place I could do that.”

“Why not on earth with your family? Why here?” Galton asks, curiously.

Nikita considers the question for a moment, “I feel that I can do more good here.”

Galton nods sagely, “We need you.” She pauses refilling Nikita’s cup, “Things have been at a stalemate with the Annunakin for years and with your intervention. The status quo is changing and there is hope for a time beyond the war.”

“Due to the nature of my abilities, I have learned to be flexible and look differently at problems.” Nikita says, taking another swig of coffee.

Galton nods thoughtfully, before looking to the orange tinged of the horizon in horror.




The tractor thunders across fields until, it come to rest on a cliff top overlooking a valley of bamboo, with tongues of flame, licking their way south. “It cannot be, we will loose our stocks and it will take years to replenish.” The older woman looks on helplessly, while sparks are carried to nearby fields.

A bird emerges from Nikita’s neck, darting high up into the skull to survey the devastation. “This is bad, the fire is spreading fast and the crews on the ground are struggling to keep up with it.”

Something in the corner of the birds eye catches her eye. She turns to Galton and says, “I have an idea.” In an instant, Nikita explodes upwards into a swarm of sparrows and the flock streaks across the night sky towards its target.



Three miles away Troy sits in his boat with a line in the water. “The perfect end to a good day. A few hours of quiet with a beer and a battle of wits with the denizens of this lake.”

Troy settles back and hears the tick of his line as it slowly plays out. He takes a deep breath and picks up his rod. With a snap he sets the line and begins wrestling whatever is on the hook.

He breathes hard fighting the line. He strains hard against the fish, slowly reeling it in, then pulls back hard on the rod until he breaks both the line and his heart, “That felt like the one.” He curses.

He frowns trying to identify the source if the chirping and chattering noise approaching fast.

Around his boat the water churns, with sparrows plunging into the lake. Troy’s eyes widen seeing countless whirlpools in the water around him for just a moment.

The small rowing boat tips him into the lake, as the water level drops by three feet in an instant. He is too busy sputtering and thrashing for the surface, that he fails to see the birds burst out of each whirlpool and streak skyward.



Nikita circles the flock over the blazing valley. “Too low and there won’t be enough spread, too high and the drop will be too fine. Need a little test.” She decides, splitting half a dozen birds from the flock.

She releases the water from her pocket dimensions a few metres above the canopy watching the results from above. “Too high. Looking at the dissipation, I will need to be under the canopy.” She thinks, “This could be an issue. That low the temperature will be high enough to cook the sparrows in under a minute. But before that my wings would be ash in seconds.”

Nikita circles for a few moments and shakes her head, before the flock starts to climb. A ripple goes through the flock as each bird changes into a swallow.

The flock powers ever upwards, driven by the thermals generated by the fire. Nikita looks down seeing the burning Valley as a spec below her. “Only way to do this, is hard and fast.”

As one, the flock descends. Each bird tucks its wings in diving full tilt towards the ground.

The first birds enter the bamboo forest at almost a hundred miles an hour, releasing their load of water and sharply pulling up, before the kiss of the flames ever touches their feathers.

In less than a minute the flock have saturated the forest and surrounding area ahead of the flames. The crews redouble their efforts, catching a break from the advance of the flames to focus on reducing those burning.

Steam rises from countless guttering, waterlogged cinders and Nikita shifts her vision into the thermal spectrum to identify the hottest of the remaining burning areas. The flock returns to the lake and replenishes their water, before release their cargo into the hottest parts of the fire. “Water will not be enough, but it has bought some time at least.” She thinks, watching hummingbirds flee the forest.

Remaining as a flock of sparrows, she surveys the flames and feels a certain sorrow. “The advance has slowed but not stopped. The flames are spread across of fire front of over a hundred metres across spanning the valley and go back a long ways.”

Her gaze flicks to the hummingbirds again and anyone who could hear, would swear that a flock of sparrows just chuckled.

The flock swoops down towards the leading edge of the flames and becomes a cloud of hummingbirds.

A once gentle hum of a single birds wings, becomes the riotous rasp like a chainsaw, when the thousands of birds that Nikita’s mass has become, rapidly beat their wings in unison.

With the unified beating of so many wings, a column of air is forced north, back up the valley, pushing the flames back, over already scorched ground.

The biggest problem is concentration, if the airflow is not uniform, tongues of flame escape. Several hundred of Nikita’s flock pay the price for this over next few hours, until the flock passes over the start of the scorched earth.

In their wake, Galton’s fire crews beat down the embers and hose down the ash stunned at what they see.

Nikita smiles to herself and the flock descends into a cloud by Galton’s tractor and her body coalesces becoming whole once more.

Galton chews on a blade of grass and shakes her head, “I heard the stories, but had no idea you could do anything like that.” She says ending with a low whistle between her teeth.

Nikita smiles and gives the older woman a wink, “I am full of surprises.” She chuckles, “Now, if you could help me find a few bacon sandwiches, we could talk about the other two wells.”

[Caesar73]

What a beautiful chapter [mention]wolfman[/mention] - after the trials and tribulations of the ritual Nikita went through a more tranquil chapter. I like both parts: The Conversation Nikita had with the Guild Master - in speech patterns it reminded a bit of Tolkien´s style. Nikita seems to blend in with the locals.

The second part? I like it that Nikita shows her appreciation of what Galton and her people do.

I cannot tell yet, but to me it seems as if Nikita wants to avoid on some level the return to home and family. As she says herself: Atlantis seemed to be a place for her to build a home.