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The Red Queen falls due to the combined force of the White Faction and Dreadpirate has a few moments to feel pleased. It doesn't last. The White Queen makes herself known - and Dreadpirate knows nothing about her or what she stands for. If the Red Queen called herself Destruction, he wonders how the White Queen named herself to the Red Faction. From all the White Queen says, she is no better, looking to seal them and their memories here in the dream-game.

Like the Red Queen, she calls them puppets. He's getting really tiring of hearing that, as if they were so easily led. If either Queen had the control over the players that they claimed, then this would have ended far sooner and with less resistance.

The room has gone dark since the White Queen's metamorphosis. He shifts from foot to foot. He can barely make out the Queen and everything seems to far away. There's a stirring in his mind, his first instinct is to reach back to Azrael, but he finds his weapon clueless before a memory overtakes them both.






On a blazing hot day he's standing in a grassy field, out in the open. White folding chairs line the ground, but he's not sitting in one of them. A dozen or more others are lined up with him, all standing at attention for at least an hour. Speeches fly in one ear and out the other - he pays attention at the time, but an hour from now he won't remember anything that didn't concern his part.

"Second Lieutenant David Brant."

He steps forward and salutes sharply. The man who called his name is still speaking, words like "exemplary service" and "example to others", but Davey's focus is on the gold badge that is being pinned to his uniform. The officer, his superior many times over, steps back and salutes. Davey repeats it and then returns to standing at attention.

"Presenting... Lieutenant David Brant," the master of ceremonies announces the promotion. There's a brief period of applause before moving to the next soldier.

It's almost another hour baking in the sun before the ceremony is concluded and they are dismissed to mingle with the crowd. His comrades are closest, so there are back slaps and hands clapping his shoulders and his Sandhurst roommate Ben has him in a headlock when there's a pointed clearing of a throat.

Grins fade as they take in the insignia of Colonel on the newcomer's uniform. The man extends his hand to shake. Davey puts his forward automatically, but he doesn't place the face until his hand is being released.

"Major Schumacher," he says, mind blank. He's not sure what to say to one of his father's old army buddies.

"Your old man would be so proud," the Major says. The few of his friends who hadn't scattered are shooed away by Ben, who clears out afterwards.

"Thank you, sir," Davey says. He clenches a fist to keep it from rising to the tags around his neck. An old habit, and useless now - the only dogtags he wears are his own, his father now rest in the case of old medals among Davey's few personal belongings.

"I think the last time I saw you was when you enlisted," the old man is saying. He chuckles, warm and dry. "Next time I see you, I'll probably be calling you 'Captain'."

Davey flushes but doesn't deny that his aim is to work his way up the chain of command quickly, like his father had. But Captain is surely several years away, and the rank is less important than the good work he does. Still, to hear that from someone who fought alongside his father...




~DAVEY!~ a scream jolts him from the memory.

"I'm okay," he murmurs reassurance to Azrael. "What was that?" That had been more than remembering it - that had seemed more like the memory playing in 3D cinema with surround sound in front of him.

~I don't know, but I hate this place~ Azrael complains. He feels small and tight in Davey's head as if he's drawn into himself. ~You don't hear me half the time I'm talking to you. It feels like I'm not quite here sometimes. I don't like it.~

He wonders if it has something to do with not having their physical bodies here. He wonders if it would be more like their usual bond if Azrael had some kind of physical form in this dream-game. It's one thing to throw Davey's mind into a marionette, but the Hunter-weapon link is between a human and an object they carry. Trying to maintain the link when Davey's mind has been moved but Azrael's sword/tag hasn't? It feels even stranger than in the golems. There's a distance between their minds that feels strange after three years of close proximity.

Angel_Moon felt his breathing increase in panic as he continued to move his body around, wondering why he wasn't able to move like he used to. Did it have something to do with the defeat of the red queen? He really didn't like what was going on, and the more he tried to think about it the less he was able to really care or do anything. He felt more like standing there and doing nothing.

He couldn't even raise his sword or his special weapon to attack, let alone want to do such things. And every moment he felt everything around him move father and farther away.

[ 0 Damage]

Finally the last battle. Shadow walked closer ready to attack when she suddenly had a flashback.

Some boys had been picking on her and her friend.After a particular cruel comment towards her friend that had made her cry, Shadow snapped. After a few punched and more than a few scratches the tormentors lay crying on the ground. Shadow, stood out up and felt the adrenaline surge through her body. She had never felt this strong before and she liked it. The feeling of being strong, the feeling of being victorious.

[ Damage: 10 ]



Something starts to unravel in his head, but he gives it a firm shake. He imagines pulling any loose memories back inside and keeping them where they are meant to stay. He feels Azrael slip through his thoughts like a serpent, then coil tight around them, trying to cage them before the White Queen could.

Davey entrusts his mind (and memories) to Azrael. Summoning the gauntlet to his left arm, he charges the White Queen. The feeling of distance recedes under his burst of anger and he closes in, clawing at the wing-hands sprouting from the Queen.

He ducks back just in time to miss a wing-hand slap to the face. The gauntlet disappears and when Davey checks again the Queen is barely visible in the darkness. Once again, it feels like she is impossible to reach.

She took a step towards the menacing entity that seek to trap them all here for an eternity, its proximity to her invoking a memory from the distant past back when she was a young ghoul who had just lost her mother. It was an anonymously received gift - an affectionate Puck minipet that quickly became her best friend and followed her just about everywhere. It was the answer to her loneliness and the days that she spent with it were filled with immeasurable joy.

It was about a year later when it happened. She didn't know why but the Puck minipet suddenly wasn't able to keep up with her anymore and started refusing food and drink, instead spending almost the entire day sleeping on her bed in between waking up to gently nuzzle her little hand. Thinking that it was probably nothing serious, she kept watch over it for the next couple of days and only reluctantly brought it to the Hywel's attention when she started to get worried.

It was already too late to do anything for it by the time they rushed the mini down to the nearest minipet healer and it came down to a decision of either letting the disease slowly run its course or putting it out of its misery. "He's yours. You should decide what you think will be the best for him." Hywel had told her. She had started crying then. She couldn't help it really since she felt that it was partly her fault that Tiggy was now dying and she would be left alone again. She had held Tiggy close while the minipet healer carried out her decision. She didn't see herself as having any other choice as she patted the Puck mini and bid it farewell.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This was all my fault. Please forgive me. Don't leave me Tiggy..."

Every time she got even remotely close, her mind was recalling things. And just like the stone fountain, not all of these things were nice-

A Large man, wearing a full suit of glowing blue armour. His power was immense, as was his presence. She had seen him only once before but felt that he was what was good and noble. The iconic symbolism of justice.

And he had judged her as evil.

Withdrawing his sword, he brought it high over head and then slashed downwards-

"Ack!" She fell to one knee, shivering with the vision and shaking her head violently. No, she wasn't evil, she wasn't the bad guy...

Though Thackery had certainly grown up with both a mother and a father, who loved and supported him even when his undertakings were a bit odd, he could not stop himself from idolizing his brothers instead. It was not that his parents had done anything wrong, really; they simply paled in comparison to the other two demons that were his fellow triplets.

They were just the coolest, and were everything he wanted to be.

Through the admiring eyes of the Cerberus puppy, the youngest by technicalities, he saw them painted with broad strokes of generalizations. He wanted to be like them, just as he saw them: like Arthur, strong and unafraid, and like Erebus, smart and caring.

He thought highly of his family, and never intentionally defied his mother, but always sided with his brothers over her. They could play just a little longer, even though bedtime was an hour ago. They could steal an extra spookie each, even though they should have been saving room for dinner. They were inseparable, and Thackery loved it, because he never wanted to be around anyone else anyway.

There was nobody better than his brothers, nobody more admirable, nobody who could care about him as much as they did. It was a fact, and he wanted everyone to know it.


As the memory began to fade, KEYS was already sniffling. He rubbed at his eyes and whimpered, ears drooping, as he searched the faces nearby for familiarity.

"Erebuuuuus," he called, voice shaky through tears. "Ereeebuus, where are you? We gotta find Arthur, and...and I wanna go home. I wanna go home."

[ Damage: 10 ]




He's ready for it this time - he can feel when something foreign reaches stiletto-thin fingers into his mind to pluck a thought or memory. He slams a mental barrier up against, rejecting the intruder more violently than he has Azrael even on the fallen angel's worst days. It might not have done much without Azrael there backing him up. Together, they drive the intruder from his mind.

~Learn your place, you impotent figurehead,~ Azrael sneers at the figure of the Queen. ~No one bests me in my own domain.~

Davey's eyebrows furrow so tightly he's giving himself a headache. He should take exception to the idea of his own mind belonging to Azrael, he knows, but this isn't the time or place to have that argument. (Besides, the best way to beat Azrael in an argument is to ignore him, he's known that since their first meeting.) He also doesn't point out that Azrael himself earlier complained about how often he was barred from Dave's mind during this event. Best not to wound Azrael's pride, he supposes, especially when relying on Azrael to help keep his mind focused.

And focused he is. Peering into the darkness, he locates the Queen and stares hard. It's almost like waiting for his eyes to adjust to darkness after turning off a light, but he knows it's not quite that simple -- but eventually she's less hidden than before and that's when he attacks.

He's ripping and tearing, but the wing-hands seem neverending. Is she just making more of them every time one is damaged, he wonders. He concentration slips and he retreats.

"I love this gauntlet," he says to no one in particular.

There's a warning hiss in his mind. He pictures Azrael as a cobra, rising up in preparation to strike. "It's the next best thing to having you here," he adds. There's a quiet pause and he knows he's caught Azrael's attention.

~So if you had to choose,~ the fallen angel says conversationally, bored, putting a purely hypothetical situation he cares nothing about to some plebian on the street. ~If you could only have one weapon...~

Davey doesn't even know why they're having this conversation. "I'd pick you. I'll always pick you."

Azrael doesn't respond, but Davey experiences a sensation of something curling around his mind, almost purring, making itself completely at home.