ThunderCats Used Without Permission

Bio-Booster Armor Guyver Used Without Permission

The Eye Of The Storm

Episode One

All was in readiness, he noticed as his personal yacht matched up with the airlock of the Warhammer's main shuttle bay. Ratar-O allowed himself a small smile as his personal craft aligned with the doors, thinking back on how this massive deception of Plun-Darr High Command had begun.

The Rat-Star entered the Warhammer's main hangar without incident. Its automated systems registered the atmosphere and pressure within the shuttlebay before opening the main hatch and releasing its sole occupant.

Ratar-O stood triumphant before the Mutant soldiers which hustled about on his orders in perparing the Warhammer for departure.

How pathetic, he thought on looking at them. Nothing more than raw materials, and none of them has any clue. Ratar-O stepped onto the Rat-Star's gangway just as another of the Rat Clan dashed forward and snapped to attention.

"COMMANDER ON DECK!" he called, causing other Mutants to snap at attention. He looked down at Meliz, his tight frame highlighted by the solid grey uniform, as the younger Rat stood at attention. At his hips were the Rats Eyes, an heirloom passed to him after discovery of a far more valuable one in the remnants of Thundera.

"As you were!" Ratar-O barked, sending the assembled Mutants back to work. He looked down at his protegee, pleased with how he had kept himself fit and alert. "Meliz," he said on setting foot on the Warhammer, "status."

"Engines are at full capacity, Commander," Meliz said as the two entered the corridor outside the shuttlebay. "Departure will be in one standard hour."

"Excellent." They remained silent as they neared the sliding door of the lift which took them to the deck which housed Ratar-O's private stateroom. The elder cast a glance at the younger's hip and noted the twin sai which rested on them. "Been practicing?"

"Daily, Sir." Meliz replied curtly. He was never one to waste words, a fact for which Ratar-O held in almost as high regard as the younger man's unwavering loyalty. The latter itself was nigh-impossible to find among Mutantkind in general. Given the circumstances in which he'd found Meliz, however, such fealty was understandable. On entrusting him with the Rat's Eyes, his former weapons, Ratar-O had reinforced Meliz's trust in him.

The fact that he'd recently recovered an even better weapon had quite a bit to do with that as well.

Ratar-O's private quarters, in comparison to other such staterooms on other Mutant spacecraft, was luxurious in spite of its spartan decor. The main foyer was spacious if not overly decorated, the furniture consisting of a long plush couch facing a low table with several chairs situated about the floorspace. No art hung on the walls, no sculptures cluttered the available space. Most notably, no viewports were present to give sight to the infinite panorama of stars outside the vessel's hull. A single sliding door along the far right wall gave access to the bedchamber, a lavatory attached to the sleeping area.

Ratar-O flopped down onto the couch, secretly grateful that his lofty rank in Plun-Darr High Command afforded him such simple luxuries. The furnishings in the other quarters of the Warhammer were nowhere near as comfortable. He looked up at Meliz, still standing at rigid attention, and patted the space to his right.

"Sit down," he said. Meliz complied, taking the proffered seat next to his commander. "At ease, my son."

"Thank you, Father," Meliz replied, visibly relaxing. Ratar-O noted the curious glances his adopted son had been furtively shooting to his own hip, at the golden figure of twin snakes intertwined at each end.

"Doesn't look like much, does it?" Ratar-O asked as he grasped the Sword of Plun-Darr and held it aloft. Meliz's keen eyes followed the motion, alight with curiosity and not a trace of avarice. "I plucked this from the shattered corpse of Thundera itself, the only artifact to survive its destruction."

"Is it true that this was my grandfather's sword?"

"His, and his father's before his, and back through antiquity," Ratar-O said, replacing it on his hip, "and now mine. Perhaps one day, it will be yours as well."

"Your sai are enough for me."

"I like the loyalty, but don't let it kill your ambition. Complacency can kill as surely as a knife in the heart."

"Yes, Father."

"Now," Ratar-O began, leaning back into the cushions, "I'm sure you have many questions about this little trek we're making. Likely starting with how this ship even still exists."

"I'd like to know about that, yes," Meliz said back. "I'd thought the Warhammer to be destroyed. I saw the footage of its test flight..."

"And how the FTL drive lost containment and blew the ship into atoms," Ratar-O finished. "Faster Than Light travel's always been a dream of Mutantkind, and I had to make sure it seemed an impossible one. I sabotaged the sensor nets monitoring the Warhammer's maiden flight, and altered the imagery accordingly. Three years it's been in my private shipyard, waiting for this mission."

"I don't understand, Father, why are you betraying High Command?" The question was posed with little emotion, merely bewilderment. "If they knew you'd stolen this prototype..."

"They'd ram a stake up my ass and serve me deep-fried for dinner," Ratar-O said, "after skinning me alive. Meliz, what I'm about to tell you does not leave this room. Understand?"

"Perfectly, Father."

"Son, this act of deception is only the latest in a string of them. I set this plan in motion years ago, after my first visit to Third Earth."

"Where you reported Slythe and his Mutants had died after their ship crashed," Meliz replied. "The report also stated that Third Earth had no minerals or metals critical for Mutant engineering, and the lifeforms unsuitable even for slave labor." Meliz's eyes began to widen in understanding.

"You catch on fast, son. While the local talent on Third Earth isn't even much for slaves, there is Thundrillium aplenty beneath the surface, and Thundrainium abounds as well."

"Which Slythe, who undoubtedly survived, wasted no time in exploiting."

"You give that Reptillian shitkicker too much credit. Slythe wasn't even a decent cook, much less command material."

"He was a cook?"

"Hardly. That dimwit burned my eggs every morning." Ratar-O looked at Meliz's confused expression. "My boiled eggs."

"If nothing else, you could have had him poison our enemies' food supply."

"I'd given that some serious thought while trying to digest the atrocities he called food. Either way, you know my mission had been to determine if they had survived, and the reason they'd plotted a course all the way out to the middle of nowhere. What I neglected to report was that the ThunderCats were also on Third Earth."

"Wh-WHAT?!"

"Easy, Meliz," Ratar-O said firmly.

"Bu... But that's even higher treason than stealing this ship!"

"And it's that attitude which is eating Plun-Darr alive from within!" Ratar-O roared. Meliz scooted back along the couch, his face betraying only a hint of fear. "Those doddering maggots don't understand. Thundera's gone, our ancient war's over. They're so obsessed with hunting down survivors that they can't see how wasteful they've become. The ThunderCats are old hat, their peasants not even of consequence. They're squandering precious resources, which our homeworld is not overly replete in anymore, in trying to eradicate little knots of survivors. High Command has lost sight of our future, and is wasting the time left to our world."

"Father..."

"If our race is to survive, it has to become united. Whole. We have to put old wars and petty tribal feuds aside if we're to claim the glory of a Mutant-ruled empire."

"Ruled, of course, by you, father."

"History isn't made by the meek," Ratar-O replied, having mostly calmed down after his rant.

"Given all that is true, what could Third Earth possibly have to do with all of this?"

"The million-credit question. Before I tracked down Slythe, I discovered something." Turning away from his adopted progeny, Ratar-O pressed a button situated among several others in a panel set flush with the tabletop. "Computer, voice print analysis," he said to seemingly open air.

"VOICE PRINT ANALYSIS COMPLETE. RATAR-O, COMMANDER, CONFIRMED," the unnecessarily authoritave voice of the main computer responded. "PASSWORD:"

"Mezegis-One-Five-Nine-Zero-Galvayra."

"PASSWORD CONFIRMED. INPUT COMMAND."

"Access ghost drive, data sector Ratar-O One. Display visual." On the wall opposite the couch on which they sat, a two meter by two meter section of its surface glimmered to reveal a hidden monitor. Several icons flickered to life, each representing files Ratar-O had just accessed.

"I never knew about these files," Meliz breathed.

"It's called a ghost drive for a reason, son," Ratar-O replied. "Computer, display data files 01 through 04 and display in order."

The first image still gave Ratar-O a touch of the creeping horrors, yet was outweighed by the potential it represented.

"What the hell is that?"

"The future," Ratar-O said, his voice thick. "What will unite Plun-Darr under a single banner."

"Development code MSFT 0038," Meliz read, his eyes flickering back from the garish green text and back to the muscled monstrosity they described, its flesh a more muted shade of the same. "Adoption Number ZN-008j. Name: Gregole. Hyper Muscle Type." The image shifted to a profile, several lines of text changing to report grip, bite pressure, weight, height, all while showing different views of the monster called Gregole.

"The sound files accompanying these images were too corroded to salvage," Ratar-O explained as the next file loaded, that of a purple-furred abomination named Ramotith.

"Vamore..." Meliz gasped at the image of a thin, hairless creature with twin bulging pods on its shoulders. The gruesome slide show ended with a scaled creature called Govilba, its visage that of a gorilla mixed with a crocodile and an extra dash of hideous. The scene shifted to a representation of Third Earth, an island in the northern part of the planet's eastern hemisphere highlighted.

"Before I tracked down Slythe, Monkian, Jackalman, and Vultureman," he explained, "I discovered strange energy readings far below the surface of a ruined city on that island."

"What energy?" Meliz asked, his voice choked with disbelief.

"Nuclear. It seems that once there was an advanced civilization on that mudball. I wasn't able to explore too deeply at the risk of deadly exposure, but I found several ancient computer banks, many with their files and components intact. It was a fit of pique when I had the Rat-Star's computers do a flash download of the contents. After my... altercation... with the ThunderCats, I departed Third Earth and had the rest of the hyperdrive trip to Plun-Darr to examine what I'd found.

"These creatures were made by a clandestine group which called itself Kronos. What you've just seen are bio-weapons."

"Indeed?" Meliz could no longer hide his emotions behind a calm facade.

"Watch this, son," Ratar-O said as he brought up a video file. "Much of this one was corrupted beyond hope, but what I managed to extract showed me plenty." On the monitor appeared a sterile white room. Tiles gleamed from an unseen light source as the image focused an a man in a short smock, his hair in disarray and an expression of sheer terror plastered on his face.

"What have you bastards done to me?!" he roared, a voice from the distant past.

"Test of prototype zoanoid designate: Malmott. Kronos Research and Development, London Branch," said a calm disembodied voice in strangely accented Standard. "March Twelfth, 1990."

"Let me outta here!"

"The test subject seems to exhibit the same oddities as the prototype originally developed by the Japanese Branch, under the direction of Genzo Makashima. Most notably, a resistance to mental conditioning used to maintain sanity during the optimization process."

"FUCK YOU, YOU SONSABITCHES!"

"Triggering the shift into zoaform is unduly tied to emotional state, as seen."

"Motherfucker..." Meliz gasped as it began. Black fangs snaked out of the human's mouth as the flesh stripped away from the rapidly growing skull. The form increased easily three times in size, shredding the thin gown as what looked to be bare muscle tissue bulged and writhed beneath scant scraps of fur. The piteous, malformed creature began to hammer at the walls, leaving gaping holes which rained pulverized material as Malmott raged uncontrollably. Without warning, one of the zoanoids viewed in the still files charged in and grasped Malmott's skull in one massive green hand and in the same motion smashed its head against the wall amid a massive splash of blood. The Gregole repeated the motion twice more, leaving Malmott to tumble to the floor where it immediately began to dissolve.

"Fuck me running," Meliz said at length as the recording froze and the screen went black. Ratar-O did not reply, not mentioning that humans were the base materials for those zoanoids. "I can see why you falsified your report on Third Earth."

"I couldn't afford for High Command to learn about the ThunderCats living on the surface," Ratar-O said in response. "They would have blazed a trail to that world, and any chance to learn the secrets buried there would have vanished like a Simian around hard work."

"Old hat, you said." Meliz was still somewhat overawed, but was recovering quickly.

"I wouldn't be moving just now if Slythe hadn't forced my hand," he snarled. "I received a report from one of my spies among a marauder group headed by a devious son of a whore named Primor that they'd received a transmission from the Reptillian and altered course to Third Earth."

"We have to find more of these Kronos ruins before they do," Meliz interrupted, his calm fully restored.

"Only I know of them, but we can't let Primor stumble over any that are still hidden. He's far from a brilliant mind in disciplines that don't involve beating slaves and blowing things up, and he'd likely destroy anything he found. Once we pick up the Spy-Star I dispatched ahead of us, we'll have a better image of what's happening on the ground."

"Commander Ratar-O," came the snivelling tone of a Scavenger, "you're needed on the main bridge, sir."

"On my way!" he barked, dropping the familiar tone he used only with Meliz. His son bolted upright, once more the professional soldier. They left his stateroom, once more commander and lieutenant rather than father and adopted son.

The open air all around was something Oswald Arthur Lisker had had more than enough of as he carried Maria in his arms above the forests and grasslands of Third Earth for the second straight week. He'd known that finding any sort of habitation by flying around at random over lands neither had seen before was a slim hope at best, and sleeping under the stars or in handy caves was beginning to wear on them both. He hadn't thought ahead enough to secure camping gear before setting his plan in motion and blowing Fortress Plun-Darr straight to hell. Maria, much to her credit, never complained and kept saying that love would see them through.

At this point, a freakin' miracle would help, he thought. The two of them had passed over empty land where cities had once been, seeking in vain for something approaching a viable place to start any kind of life. As they'd crossed into Canada, or what passed for it now, he'd searched for Quebec and found nothing but trees and more trees. Mother Nature had retaken the world with a vengeance. No cities anywhere...

Their course over the past three days had turned southward toward hopefully warmer climes and Lisker had no real clue over which former state he was currently ferrying Maria. Montana, maybe, or Wyoming. The land was flat, and...

Is that...? He peered into the distance at the slight discoloration on the horizon and focused both sensor medals aside his helmet forward.

"Find anything?" Maria asked, looking up at his faceplate.

"Maybe. I've definitely spotted some biosigns, but we're too far away to tell how many."

"Only one way to find out!" she chirped, a genuine smile on her face. Lisker increased speed, rocketing toward the grouping of vital signatures. Despite his enhanced senses, it was Maria who pointed out the wide road beneath them after having covered a few miles. Lisker glanced downward and altered trajectory to follow the hard-packed path. It was far too wide to be mistaken for a game trail, too obvious to be anything but a main thoroughfare. Sans pavement, of course.

Thousands of miles of highway, all gone, Lisker thought. "Ozymandias, anyone?"

"Huh?"

"'I am the Great Ozymandias. Look upon my works ye mighty and tremble.' That's the quote. His empire ended up nothing but ruins and sand, and that quote."

"It's still so hard to believe," Maria said, "that all this was once a great nation. Cities everywhere, towers that reached the sky! I can't imagine it!"

"Nations everywhere. Planes, trains, and automobiles. All lost to history." My history... "Yeah, we've just found one!" His tone went from somber to excited as he picked out straight lines and the biosigns became clearer. Humans, and quite a few of them mixed in with others he'd spotted in other hamlets. Bolkins, and some Tabbots as well. This wasn't some shantytown for the sheep people or gaudy display of wealth like homes for the pig-like Tabbots. Lisker went higher, the better to observe unseen, and noted that four identical roadways extended from the town like the points on a compass rose. Intersecting the eastern route was a fast flowing river, alongside which were wooden wheels being turned by the current.

"Mills," Maria said, squinting down, "I think. This must be a major city, indeed!"

Major in the eighteenth century, maybe, Lisker had the tact not to say.

"Why are we passing over?" she asked when he resumed course.

"We can't just set down in front of Town Hall," he replied. "I'll take us a short distance away, and we'll walk in. No sense in scaring the locals."

"Good point... I see a house over there!" She pointed at the speck of a structure in the distance, set back from the main road and connected by a narrow path. Lisker focused his medals and found the space to be uninhabited.

"No one's home," he said as he banked toward it. "Good a place as any to hit the dirt."

The grass reached his knees on touching down, the square domicile in the center of the shabby space silent and dark. He set Maria down, said grasses nearly reaching her thighs, and set forward.

"Looks like no one's been home for a while, now," she said as they reached the steps to the covered front porch.

"The house is still in good shape," Lisker said before testing the door. The wooden barricade swung easily in on its hinges. Their steps seemed to echo in the cozy interior, straight backed chairs surrounding what had to be a dinner table in the center with a small kitchen at the back. Three doors were set into the walls, Two leading to bedchambers and one to a bathing room.

No toilets, he silently groused. Even the ROMANS had indoor plumbing, for Pete's sake! "Doesn't look ransacked," he said as he ran a finger along the surface of an empty shelf and inspected the dust on its armored tip. "Whoever lived here opted to cut and run. From what?"

"Maybe they'll come back?" Maria said halfheartedly, as though she already knew it wouldn't happen.

"Doubt it," he said simply, opening one of the doors to reveal a master bedroom. The bedding was still in order, though dusty from neglect, yet the chest of drawers stood with each one open and empty. Maria padded to the closet and found some clothes scattered on the floor. "Took what they could carry and hightailed it."

"I can tell you that humans lived here," Maria said, pointing to a box atop the high shelf of the closet. "Everything's sized for them." Curious, Lisker stepped over to her and plucked the box from the shelf.

"Yeah, they were in a panic," he said as he pulled a pendant carved of diamond set in pure gold and dangled it before Maria. Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets at the sight of such a valuable piece of jewelry. "Place hasn't been searched, that's for sure. If theives had come through here, this would have a big 'Steal Me' sign on it." He looked over at Maria. "You want?"

"It's not yours to give to me," she said, frowning. "Even if I'd love to have it."

"Good point," he replied, placing the pendant back in the box and depositing it on the shelf again. "Still, might want to think about taking it for barter in town."

"Lisker?"

"Look, whoever lived here left it, and they're not coming back for it. We're on our own for now, and we have to be practical."

"I still do not like it." Her tone was disapproving, but her eyes showed that she saw the truth of it.

"I bet they took all the food they could. Wonder if they left anything?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask," she said, visibly brightening. "I have a hunch."

"Lead on, pretty lady," he said and was warmed by her smile. He made sure to say such platitudes from time to time, as he had to other women. Only with Maria, they were more than words. He truly meant them, and that still frightened him on some deep level. He followed her into the kitchen, scanning the stove and cupboards with his enhanced vision and finding them as cold and empty as the house. Utensils were still in their places within the drawers beneath the prep counter, and knives of various shapes hung as though still waiting to be used. Maria darted to the right and Lisker saw the door set into the floor.

"Just like a Wollo kitchen," Maria said, triumphant. "Humans learned this trick from us."

"Why keep the root cellar outside when you can get in from the kitchen," Lisker replied. "Kinda sucks if a tornado drops the house over the door." He shook his head at that before Maria pried open the door and descended the wooden stairs.

Lisker had to duck down to keep the curving fin on his helmet from digging furrows into the ceiling. Despite the lack of light, he saw clearly that the shelves were lined with a myriad of jars and wrapped parcels which would have set his mouth to watering had the Guyver allowed such a waste of his body's moisture. Though he could not feel the ambient air temperature, he still knew that it was nice and cool down here. Maria located a stub of candle along with some flint, which she used to spark the wick to life.

"Oh. I changed my mind, it is pretty clever," Lisker said once he noticed the set of double doors which granted access to the outside.

"Fruit preserves," Maria said, absorbed in her inventory of the cellar's contents. "Pickled vegetables, cured meats, grains," she went on, checking jars, urns, packages and pots. "It's all still good. We have a stockpile in here!"

"Winter's on its way fast," Lisker agreed. "Looks like this might become home for awhile."

"That bed did look awful soft," Maria lilted, throwing a wink over her shoulder at him. Lisker laughed out loud as they exited the cellar and searched another room. Maria did a double take at the bolts of cloth which were scattered about the floor and the needle kit which lay open on a sewing table.

"You look pleased," Lisker said around a chuckle as Maria hurriedly sorted through the available fabrics. They were mostly cloth and cotton, yet among them was a roll of silk which Maria darted to like a honeybee searching nectar.

"Oh, I am!" she hooted. "I can make some clothes!"

"You know how?"

"Of course I know how!" she replied, somewhat indignant. "In Wollo villages, everyone pitches in. The only Wollos who don't know how to make garments are those still in swaddling clothes."

"Even men know how?"

"Well, men lean more toward leatherworking, but yes. We don't have those clothing stores you told me about."

"Good point and well made," Lisker conceeded.

"Speaking of garments, I think you can remove yours now."

"Oh. Yeah. Hadn't thought about that." Having spent so much time bio-boosted, he'd begun to lose track of the time he spent in his transformed state. The armor left at his command, fading back into wherever it called home, and the slight chill in the air set small teeth in his exposed flesh.

"I can see that you need new clothes, too," Maria clucked as she gathered the scattered sewing instruments. "Those pants and that shirt have seen better days."

"So's your jacket," he pointed out playfully.

"Don't you worry, I have something special in mind for this," she said, giving a twirl that exposed tantalizing lengths of her legs.

"Still," Lisker said, dark clouds appearing over his horizon, "I have to wonder why the people who lived here bolted. They ran from something."

"Maybe the people in that town can tell you?"

"You're not coming with me?"

"Lisker," Maria said as if to a slow child, "look at what I'm wearing. This is fine between us, but if I'm to go into a public place, I'd like to wear something more..." She gesticulated with her hands for a moment before he supplied a term.

"Modest."

"That will do. Yes, something more modest."

"So, I'll make this trip alone. It's only a couple miles to town."

"You can walk that, I take it?"

"Maria, I could run that with fifty pounds of combat gear on my back."

"You know you don't have to impress me."

"Not trying. Remember what I told you about being a Marine?"

"Yes."

"I had to make longer runs than that. With all that gear on me. Before breakfast."

"Oh," she said simply. "Will you take that necklace for barter?"

"No. The people in town might know who lived here. We don't want unnecessary questions. My Rolex might net us anything we need. Not that we need much with this setup."

"Be careful, my heart," she said, her eyes turning soulful.

"I will, no worries. Just lock the door behind me, and don't open it for anyone." With that, Lisker bent down to plant a chaste kiss on Maria's lips before turning toward the door.

Despite the fact that his patent leather shoes had not been made for this kind of beating, Lisker revelled in the feel of his feet pounding terra firma in a constant and steady rhythm. He hadn't run in such a manner in years, far more than he cared to consider, and had managed to resist calling out his old unit's cadence while doing so. Inwardly, however, was a different story.

(I don't know, but I've been told!)

(Eskimo girls're mighty cold!)

(Sound off!)

(One, two!)

Lisker did not fret about the run, having made left turns in Paris that were far more difficult than a two mile run in Italian loafers. His muscles tingled with the exertion, his senses still hyperaware despite the absence of the Guyver. Out of instinct born of battles fought in far more forbidding territory, he scanned every rock and tree as he approached the still unnamed town. Though he lacked an AR-15 carbine, or even a Ka-bar combat knife, he knew his body was all the weapon he would need. He sincerely doubted the training given to Marines still survived on Third Earth.

Lisker knew something was wrong as he drew closer to the outer wall of the town. The guards seemed disinterested, as though a random stranger nearing the open gates did not warrant so much as a shouted command to halt. They cast poisonous looks at him as he entered, yet did nothing to challenge his approach as he slowed to a walk. He noted the scorch marks lined with jagged cracks near the entryway, the inlaid wood having been obviously replaced recently.

What the hell is this? he thought as he walked the cobblestoned streets of the unnamed settlement he'd spotted earlier. From above it had appeared to be as close to industial revolution-era technology he'd seen since being revived on Third Earth. The walls were dirty, the streets desolate and scattered with leaves obviously blown in from the forests which ringed two sides of the town. As he progressed past what looked to be closed shops whose windows were boarded over and people who walked with slumped backs and whose eyes were pools of sorrow, resignation, and smoldering yet impotent anger, he half expected some street urchin to rush up and offer to shine his shoes for a nickel. Depression era Detroit, Third Earth style, was what crossed his mind as well as the realization that he wouldn't get so much as a "Screw you, Asshole," out of the people he passed. Some of them, though a remarkable few, chanced looks at his left hand and shook their heads. Lisker continued to explore the serpentine streets in search of any likely source of information and was considering writing the exercise off as a lost cause when to his right a door into a shop that still did business opened and one of the sheep people emerged.

The Bolkin's head snapped to his face, mistrust and suspicion clear in his eyes before the stare locked onto his left hand. Nearing the point of exasperation, Lisker offered the back of his hand for closer inspection and managed not to do so upside the Bolkin's head.

"Not one of them, then?" he asked, his suspicious gaze back on Lisker's face. "Or, just don't have the mark yet?"

"Not one of them?" The Bolkin still eying him warily, Lisker spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Would you mind making some sense?"

"You've got to know who I'm talking about."

"Skull and Bones?" he tried, becoming seriously irritated and wishing Maria had come along to at least keep him calm. "Illuminatti? Hare Krishnas? Neighborhood Watch? Friendly Geico Representatives?"

"Now you're the one not making sense," the Bolkin said, shaking his head, "but I'm starting to think maybe you're really not one of the Clutch."

"The Clutch," Lisker repeated, relieved that some progress was finally being made. As in the third pedal in a stickshift?

"Come in," the Bolkin said abruptly before turning about and re-entering his shop.

The shop, it turned out, was on the first floor with the Bolkin's chambers on the second. It also turned out to be a leather shop, coats and boots that looked comfortable yet tough as nails. The smell was everywhere, tanning fluids and finished rawhide that was oppressive at first. The Bolkin moved through two rows of chairs, indicating that Lisker should take one. He sat, wondering just what he was in for as his host silently started choosing footwear.

"Those shoes of yours are well-made," the sheep man said, "but aren't made for travelling, and you'll want to do that soon as you can."

"Mind telling me why?"

"I don't know how you got past 'em, but you'd best retrace your route."

"The Clutch?"

"That's it, just the thing. What, you drop outta the clear blue sky?"

"Who're these Clutch people?"

"So long as you don't meet 'em, you're better off."

"They the reason this town's such a shithole?" The Bolkin whirled on him, clearly offended yet the anger faded quickly. "Look, I'm new here and I just want some information. What in the fuck are you talking about with these Clutch people?"

"Watershed used to be a trading town, and a pretty big one I'm sure you can tell," the Bolkin replied as he put down a pair of stiff-looking boots in favor of some that seemed softer. "Before they came here."

"All I saw were people who looked like they wanted to kick my ass. Guess I came here unperpared." Here I thought I was done with high school... he thought ironically.

"They only came to town once." The Bolkin decided against the current boots and began hunting for another. "Used to be, shops would get consingments of goods delivered here, the more permanent ones that is. Traders and merchants would come through right regular, buying and selling their wares and trading for what they needed to keep travelling. Ground our own grains and sold 'em, got other foodstuffs from traders an' such. Whole damn town was like a business, real center of commerce. 'All roads lead to Watershed' we

used to say." The Bolkin selected a pair of boots which Lisker saw to be his exact size. The Bolkin's customers must have been mostly humans. "Not so much now."

"Looks like they'll be a good fit," Lisker said amiably, already regretting having landed near Watershed as he doffed his loafers and donned a pair of the most comfortable boots his feet had ever inhabited. "I can trade for them."

"On me," his host said. "No point in keeping what they'll take anyway."

"How're they taking everything if they've only been here once?" Lisker asked as he began to scan for a pair of boots that would fit Maria.

"Mayor Gil started getting word that shipments were being stopped, both ways," the Bolkin explained, sitting in the chair directly across from Lisker. His feet dangled nearly a foot from the floor, a pair of his own boots adorning them. "Traders and such being stopped and robbed. Then, they started getting killed."

"Rough."

"Yeah. Before Gil could round up some guards to check it out, they hit us. Hard. Humans and Trollogs both stormed us in the dead of night, started killing anyone they came across. Thing is, all that was a distraction."

"What did they really want?"

"Mayor Gil's boy, William."

"Oh." Lisker found himself despairing for that William's chances of still being alive.

"Next morning, all he found on his boy's bed was a lock of hair and a list of things the Clutch wanted first. Gold and jewels first. Then food, weapons, raw materials."

"Gil caved," Lisker said simply.

"Had no choice. Said the next raid would take even more kids. Folks were scared for their families. Better to keep other kids safe and let everything get taken. Said they'd give Will back once they were done."

"Tell me this Gil didn't believe that," Lisker nearly groaned.

"Man gets his boy took, he'll cling to any hope. Must not be a family man, Mister..."

"Lisker."

"Mister Lisker. Name's Dendel, by the way." Lisker took the offered, and far smaller, hand. "Damn good grip you got there. Saw you lookin' around. Anything in particular?"

"Boots for a woman. Those might do," Lisker replied, pointing to a pair on a shelf along the far wall behind Dendel.

"Small woman," he said noncommitally. Lisker said nothing as Dendel hopped down from the chair and moved to retrieve the boots. Silently, he reviewed the information he'd uncovered from a most unconventional source, and found himself in a potential quagmire. A whole town getting the life choked out of it by a bunch of bandits and kidnappers. Thugs, to put it more simply. He blew a frustrated breath through his nostrils, already knowing that he and Maria could not establish a life here. No way.

I could help, he thought and dismissed it straightaway. He recalled the famous quote of Andy Warhol, who he never considered any real artist, that everyone would have fifteen minutes of fame. He'd had his two weeks and a whole slew of miles away from Watershed, and wanted a quiet place in which he could train for his promised rematch with Sho Fukamachi.

What would Maria think about that? piped up his concsience, which he squelched. His hero days were over. His life now consisted of protecting Maria and preparing to face Guyver One.

Sure it is, that selfsame part of him replied in her voice.

"Just her size," Lisker said once Dendel handed the soft leathers to him. "Can't just take these for free. I'll leave the loafers here. Sorry if they stink like ass."

"I've repaired more than my share of smelly shoes," Dendel said, "and I'll take them if you insist. The leather is quite exquisite."

"Good. I won't take up more of you time." Lisker rose and made for the door to the street.

"Godspeed, Mister Lisker. Get out of this pit as fast as you can."

I intend to, he did not say as he shut the door.

Maria looked down at herself for the tenth time, studying her figure beneath the length of cotton she had tied into a form-fitting wrap whose folds enclosed her snugly with a knot at her right shoulder. It was far more form-fitting than her jacket, which adorned a chair near the bolt of silk she had scouted out. She had very special plans for that material which, she was sure, would blow Lisker's mind once she was done. For now, as she hummed an old tune to herself, the modest dress she was now hemming took all her attention as she guided the needle through the seam. The dress would reach her ankles, which suited her just fine. The more risque garment she intended would be for Lisker alone.

She hummed in bliss as her fingers manipulated the needle and thread, unconcerned about her nearly nude state. There was no one around to spy on her, she knew, and making more conventional clothing brought her a certain comfort. She had made dresses and blouses numerous times when she lived with the other Wollos of her village and this time was no different. She already had Lisker's measurements, and making more clothing for him would take little effort.

The three knocks at the front door caused her to bolt upright and charge the main entrance. Lisker stood beyond, and his tension killed her easy mood.

"Thank you," she said as he gave her the boots. "I was getting tired of going around barefoot."

"We have to leave," he said simply. "Now."

"What?!"

"I screwed up. There's bad things going on here. We can't stay."

"Lisker," she said, grasping his hands and spinning him around to face her. "What is going on here?" She listened as he explained the situation in Watershed with the Clutch, and Maria could not believe what she was hearing.

"You must be joking," she said firmly. "We can't leave!"

"Maria, we have to get going! Get a move on!" he exclaimed as he snatched open the trap door to the cellar.

"This is not the way it will be!" she shouted, drawing Lisker's gaze. "Lisker, these people are living a nightmare!"

"Not our place..."

"It is our place!" Maria shouted. "You can stop this!"

"Maria," Lisker began, "I'm not a superhero. I can't save the world..."

"As I recall, you've saved the world once already," she said, stepping toward him and placing his hands in hers. "If you hadn't helped stop the Mutants, this world would be under their thumb right now!" Her heart began to beat furiously in her breast, heat spreading through her body. "Lisker, this is no different!"

"It is..."

"No, it is not! Lisker, I remember our first night together after you helped eradicate the Mutant Army. You said we were a team, that you'd fight for me."

"For you, not for people we don't know!"

"Oh, so you raise your voice when I don't agree with you? Lisker, you said we could have a life here! If we pick up and move on each time we find a bad situation, what does that make us? We can't keep moving on!"

"Maria..."

"Don't 'Maria' me!" she exclaimed, now furious. "Power comes with responsibility! You have power! Why not use it for the people of Watershed?!"

"I..." Lisker fell silent at that, his eyes closing and his thoughts turning inward. Maria waited with short breath, hoping her man would make the right choice. "Some day," he began, "you've got to tell me how you can talk me into things." She relaxed at those words, moving closer to embrace him. The man she'd fallen for was still there, the goodness she'd seen in him still a beacon in his darkness. Still torn, but not so much as before.

"I'm a woman," she replied simply, smiling gently.

"Oddly enough, that makes perfect sense," Lisker said with a smile of his own. His hand softly cupped her cheek and turned her gaze to his. "I might have saved the world once, but I can clean up this little corner of it. But," he said, his face becoming serious, "I'm not doing this for the people of Watershed. I'm doing this for you."

"That's enough for me," Maria replied, truly meaning it. "You're still doing the right thing. It seems we now know what whoever lived here ran from. Let's make sure no one else has to run from them again." She grasped his shirt by the collar, slowly pulling him down and kissing him as deeply as she could. After what felt like half an era, they parted and gazed into each other. "Consider that for good luck. Now, how about we get some dinner? You can't stave off the forces of evil on an empty stomach, Guyver or no Guyver."

Lisker sat at the table which took up the center space of the foyer, still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened as Maria emerged from the root cellar with a jar of preserves under one arm and a small vat of pickles in the other.

"Want some help?" he asked as she set them on the prep counter. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on her shapely form beneath the simple wrap she wore. Did she know what that sight did to him? Probably, he answered himself.

"Nothing to it," she replied. "I don't have time to make a proper meal, but this should do for tonight. I don't know how to prepare meats, I'm afraid." The righteous indignation which had permeated her earlier shouted words was gone, the storm having blown over.

"Comes with being an herbivore. If we have to use the meats stored down there, I can manage cooking them."

"You don't want any?" she asked, looking up at him from across the room. "I thought humans loved to eat meat."

"True enough, but I can go without. Steak-'n-potatoes was never a staple for me." Lisker sat there, chin resting in his hand and watching her as she bustled about with a nameless tune coming from her lips as he pondered next how he would go about ridding Watershed and, more importantly, themselves of the unknown punks which called themselves the Clutch.

Dumbest fuckin' name for a gang I've ever heard...

"They have to have people at points where the roads out of here get narrow," he said, mostly to himself. "Going by what Dendel said, they've had this town closed off for months."

"The thing with Bolkins," Maria said as she placed a plate of pickled cucumbers and a bowl of raspberry preserves on the table, "is that they're even less talented liars than Wollos. That particular gift passed our two races by. Did he tell you where to find the Clutch?"

"No, but I'm thinking they're using the forests either north or west of here as a staging area. No places to hide to the east and south. Small garrisons down those roads to keep them closed, shipments of conscripted goods going in one of the other two directions. I didn't look for side roads or trails on our flyover, but there's gotta be some for moving stuff they jacked from traders they killed."

"How will you find them?" Maria asked after swallowing a bite of cuke.

"I can see plenty when I'm transformed. I should be able to fill in the blanks when I set out tonight."

"Tonight?" Maria blinked hard, fork halfway between mouth and plate.

"I took this mission, best to have done with it as soon as possible. No sense in putting it off." Lisker took Maria's unoccupied hand in his and began to stroke the back of it with his thumb. "Listen, Maria, no one can know about the Guyver. I don't need any praise, I don't want people beating a path to our door every time a cat gets stuck in a tree. If we're gonna make a life here, we can't have everyone dumping their problems on us to solve."

"I understand," she said to him, and he knew she did. "We have to have time for ourselves, too."

"If we're gonna call this place home, then the Clutch has gotta go. We've also gotta come up with a cover story about us living together."

"That might be tricky," she said at length. "Our relationship is taboo mostly among Wollokind. Did you see any in town, by the way?"

"Far as I know, you're the only Wollo around here."

"That simplifies things," Maria replied, "but not in a good way."

"I remember you telling me that when Wollos are with humans, it's not usually by choice."

"If we tell people I'm your slave, they'll readily believe it, but I don't want to live that kind of a lie. We had to at Fortress Plun-Darr, but that's over and done with now."

"If we tell people the truth, they won't believe it. How about we just not advertise, and tell anyone who asks that it's none of their damn business?" he asked with a smirk and a wink. Maria gave a lilting laugh at those words.

"I think I can manage that."

The rest of the meal passed quickly and silently, the food surprisingly good even given the fact that they'd subsisted on foraged herbs and berries for two weeks, and before that had to choke down on the garbage that Mutants found edible. If hunger makes the best sauce, Lisker mused, then crappy food comes a close second.

"Still plenty of daylight left," he said as he looked out the window which gave a view of the road beyond the front door. Maria, having risen from her chair, eased in front of him and into his lap.

"I still have work to do on new clothes," she said absently before making herself comfortable, showing no intention of getting back to sewing. "I could teach you how."

"I'd like to know how you managed this wraparound job," he said, tugging gently at the knot on her shoulder. "It's great on you." Really great.

Maria felt his warm breath on her hair as she relaxed into him. She had never loved him more than she did at that moment, knowing that he would do what was right in the end. Even if it took some not-so-gentle prodding in the proper direction. She knew she had a great deal of work ahead of her, both in making this house a home and in making some decent clothing from the rolls of fabric in the room to her left, but sitting there with his arms around her made all that distant and unimportant.

"It's been awhile," she said softly. "For us, I mean."

"I know," Lisker said as he lifted her against him. "You sure?"

"If you don't make a beeline for that bed," she said with a grin, "I'll drag you."

The rest of the daylight passed by unnoticed by either of them.

Dendel, as he did every night for the past several months, found himself thinking about the bustling place Watershed once was before the Clutch came and cut them off from the rest of Third Earth. It hadn't even been difficult, once they'd sealed the roads and kidnapped Mayor Gil's son.

The Cambers, he thought as he crested the roof of the two story structure which was both his shop and his home and also the tallest of the myraid buildings in the immediate area. The told us it was coming, and they didn't make it. He still remembered the day their heads, man wife and young child, had been found by the bank of the river. It was on that day that Watershed's misfortunes truly began. Watershed was circling the drain just as the other towns they'd choked off and drained before them.

Dendel thought briefly about his only customer for the day, that strange human who'd called himself Lisker. Good taste in boots, that one, and a man not to be trifled with. Dendel had seen that easily in his ice-chip eyes. Lisker was a man who was no stranger to conflict, and was also supremely confident in his own abilities.

I just hope he got out... What the hell? Dendel, on spotting the tiny light in the distance, brought his telescope to bear on the source of illumination. While gazing at the stars through it helped bring him peace even in such troubled times, it also helped in spotting caravans coming through at irregular houres. Such had helped prevent raids in the past, before the overwhelming presence of the Clutch had come calling.

That's odd, he thought on seeing the tiny pinprick of light in the distance. Dendel brought the telescope to bear, finding the Camber house itself in his gaze with a single light blazing in the front windows which faced the main east-west road. He kept his gaze on the front porch as the door opened and a familiar human stepped through.

How about this? he mused as he watched Lisker step into the night. Another figure emerged behind him, nude except for the boots the human had procured for her. The Wollo woman said something to him which caused Lisker to smile and place a kiss on her lips.

Not a slave, he thought as he beheld the increasingly strange tableaux. She broke the Taboo, then. Dendel had to admit that the Wollo was lovely though rather tall for her kind. He watched, focusing the telescope on Lisker, as the human darted into the yard of the former Camber place and shouted something he couldn't hear.

The result was immediate, the sphere of energy hammering the dirt around him as golden armor appeared from the ether to seemingly bond with him. The spectacle was over as abruptly as it began, leaving a golden-armored figure standing beneath the light of the nearly full moon.

Dumbfounded, Dendel tried to track Lisker as he shot into the sky as though the Law of Gravity was only the Mild Suggestion of Gravity before vanishing into the night.

How bizarre! he thought as Lisker vanished from view and he trained his telescope back upon the Wollo. She disappeared back into the former Camber house and closed the door, obviously locking it. Dendel resolved to another all-nighter, this time hoping for something more interesting than shooting stars and constellations.

Maria made for the bathroom, having already drawn water from the hand pump which dominated the center of the otherwise clear space. The house's well was there, the rest of the house having been built around it for easy retrieval of water. A mirror dominated the wall near the door above a plain counter, the only furnishings other than the metal tub above an empty hollow for a small fire and a chamberpot in the far corner. She tested the water above the embers and, on finding the temperature acceptable, lowered her bare body into the warm water.

"Aaahhhhh..." she moaned as for the first time in weeks she was able to clean herself. The water felt exquisite over her, already bringing out the ground-in filth which had embedded itself in her downy fur. Her muscles still tingled from the multiple climaxes Lisker had brought her to earlier that day, and the heat of the water only served to relax her more despite what he had set out to do just a few moments earlier.

No need to worry, she thought as she dipped lower into the water to wash her face. There was little on Third Earth which could harm him, she knew, but that did not stop her from worrying about him all the same. The Clutch, and that was a rather strange name for any group, may have proven too much for the people of Watershed, but they were still humans and Trollogs. There was no way they could be prepared for Lisker. For a Guyver. As such, Maria's mind went adrift as she leaned back against the head of the tub and let the water do it's wonderful work.

She found herself thinking of Laheela and the last time she'd seen the Thunderian woman on the bridge of the Ravager. In spite of the fact that the two would likely never meet again, Maria took satisfaction from Laheela having said that she now trusted Lisker, just before laying a smacker on her that she hadn't seen coming. Maria wondered what Laheela was doing at that moment, freed alongside her people.

Mother, she thought, her mind taking a more painful turn. The disappointment in her parents' eyes as she faced them still caused a deep ache in her heart. She had chosen Lisker over them, not over Ramon, and had vanished from their lives forever.

I still chose, she thought then, pushing them out of her mind. I made that choice, and I will never regret it. At the very least, the choice had been given to her rather than made for her. Since girlhood, every decision had been made by others. What to wear. How to behave. What was considered proper and improper for a female in Wollo society. Who to marry... Maria now had those choices to make for herself. She thought of the dress she had nearly completed and her smile grew a touch naughty. Who said it had to reach her ankles?

Realms of possibilities lay before her as she closed her eyes in light slumber.

During his tour as a Marine, Lisker had often followed orders based on incomplete intel and educated guesswork. CIA, NSA, Military Intelligence, their secretive natures had often delivered flawed estimates of enemy strength and location. Though he had no such backup here on Third Earth, his own quick recon had confirmed many of his suppositions. As he'd floated above the house which, like it or not, would be home for at least the winter months, he'd focused the sensor medals and his own heightened eyesight on the forest ares he'd guessed the Clutch to be hiding in. Several signs of human and demi-human life had leapt out at him, surrounding a single thermal bloom that had to be a good-sized campfire in the more northerly section of the wood. Situated at narrow points along the four roads had been smaller bands of people guarding the choke points.

So far, so good, he thought as he silently hovered above the northern squad. He'd taken the west, east, and south first, given their greater distance from the enemy's base camp. Here, however, they were less than a mile away from a force of fifteen more. Nothing he could not handle, but Lisker wanted this to be a subtle as possible, to leave as many unanswerable questions regarding Guyver as he could. Leaving a good tract of forest burnt to a crisp with the megasmasher was just wasteful and, he knew, would immolate the stored spoils the Clutch had taken over the months. Given what he'd seen and what Dendel told him, having as much as possible returned would do rather a lot of good. Though he still gave little thought to the people of Watershed, and still held Maria as the reason why he was doing his Bat-Man routine, he wasn't completely inconsiderate of their needs.

They're not bad at the old guard routine, he grudgingly admitted as he beheld the two humans and two Trollogs on each side of the road. They stood loose and ready, but close together. Firearms, apparently, hadn't been rediscovered by the locals yet so presenting a mass target could be excused. They were also far more alert than their now-dead colleagues at the other choke points, due to being closer to base and whoever was in charge. Such attentiveness did not aid them as four quick bursts from the head beam felled them in such short order that none of them had the chance to make a sound before crumpling to the dirt.

Clear the roads. Phase one successful, he thought as he rose above the trees once again. Proceeding to main mission objective. He moved towad the glow of the fire and nearly laughed out loud at the audacity of the gathered Clutch. Like the others, the humans all had tattoos of a grasping talon on their left hands which explained why so many had given his a good look and somewhat explained their name. A nagging suspicion began to claw at his mind, the feeling that something was just plain hinky as hell but he couldn't grasp what.

Bright as the large campfire was, and given the fact that they looked into it off an on, Lisker knew their night vision was completely shot. He could hover there all night and none of them would be the wiser. He gazed to his right to where a long flat wagon was laden with parcels and bundles of stolen food and goods. Two large horses, the first he'd seen on Third Earth, were hitched to the wagon and stood in place without a care in the world. To the wagon's immediate left was a cage made of black iron bars.

Complication number one, he thought as he identified the wretched-looking boy in ruined nightclothes. His blond hair hung matted and tangled, smudges and filth discoloring his pale skin. William sat within the cage, staring down to a point between his feet. Lisker took a closer look and saw that he was far skinnier than was healthy for a boy his age. The Clutch must have been feeding him just enough to keep him alive, but not so much that he'd have any strength to make trouble. No way they meant to give him back, he thought, his anger beginning to rise. Must be planning to sell him when they're done here. He clenched his fists, forcing his temper down as he considered how to deal with the boy when a series of shouts from the far left of the encampment drew his attention along with everyone else's. Guttural words of the general "Shut the fuck up" variety clashed with demands for release in a decidedly feminine though extremely angry voice.

Complication number two. The Trollog stalked into the firelight. In the dog-man's left hand were the ends of a net and trapped within was a human girl. The abbreviated furs she wore were the same as those worn by the warrior women he'd seen when he'd tracked down Sho months before. Warrior Maidens, they called themselves. The one below struggled ferociously and with not a small amount of vitriol as she was dragged across the dirt and trampled grasses like a fresh kill.

"Whatcha got, Progg?!" a large and muscular human asked, firelight flickering agianst his bald head. The Trollog held up the net, the girl trapped within apparently light enough for him, and his mutated bulldog-like head had a lecherous grin on it.

"Bring entertainment," he said, his use of words bringing the image of a troglodyte to Lisker's mind. "Need good time!"

"Hell yeah!" another human shouted.

"Been so long, even you're lookin' kinda purty!" one said to the shouter.

"LET ME GO!" the unnamed girl below screamed. "DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU DAMNED SAVAGES!" She was maybe eighteen, Lisker saw. Nineteen at most.

"Don't do this! Please!" Lisker, surprised, turned his head to find William on his feet and grasping the bars of his cage. "Please let her go!" Huh. Kid's got more spark in him than I thought.

"Shut the fuck up, brat!" the bald one roared. "You want the strap again?" Lisker noted how William involuntarily flinched at that one word before becoming quiescent again. I don't care if he's the leader or not. He's gonna be first.

"If yer lucky, we'll give ya what's left!" another called out over his shoulder as Progg set the net and the tangled Warrior Maiden on the ground and a ring began to form around her. Lisker ignored her outraged shouts and the lecherous chuckling of bandits as he came into position to land behind the huge bald one.

He stiffened as Lisker's hand pierced the flesh at the base of the spine and grapsed the vertebrea tight. He waited to see how many would notice the boisterous human's silence. Most of the group were beginning to paw at the trapped girl, though some noticed their leader's silence and the blood oozing from his mouth. His presence known, Lisker yanked hard at the spine's base and pulled the entire vital structure through the flesh that surrounded it. Lisker said nothing as he moved toward the next target, a human with his penis already out and ready and whose head exploded from an intense right lunge. Fear and pandemonium reigned as he killed others with single strikes to vital areas before the massed gang began to scatter. Lisker ignored those humans and Trollogs who were on the periphery. Next to doing all the damage he could in a short time, a few stragglers were insignifigant. The slaughter was over almost as soon as it had begun, with several corpses now cooling at his feet and the threat of the Clutch now settled. Being the closer of the two hostages, Lisker examined the girl first.

Her one-piece tunic was made from the fur of a beast he did not recognize, but the look of terror on her face was all too familiar. Her oak-shaded eyes, the same as her shoulder-length hair, gazed up at him with barely muted terror as she fought for freedom from the tangling net. She was healthy, her muscle tone enough to give most girls of her age on Second Earth fits, and Lisker turned his attention to the caged boy.

Damn... He was half-starved, Lisker saw on closer examination, with several deep tissue wounds inflicted via harsh beatings. He hadn't eaten in days, several of his body's systems beginning to prey on what little fat was available on the fourteen year old's frame. In all honesty, he hadn't expected William to still be alive. Lisker then looked at the wagon beyond the cage and the whimpers of the two captives faded into nothingness as the hinky feeling became dawning realization.

SHIT! he raged on seeing it. SHIT SHIT SHIIIIT! He searched the surrounding territory for the fleeing men, though he knew stopping them would do no good whatsoever. Bad intel strikes again... Lisker turned his attention back to the furiously struggling girl.

"You," he said simply, and she froze as though suddenly encased in ice. "I'm going to set you free, but I need you to do something for me." Suspicion and resentment tinged the fear in her liquid brown eyes. "Not what these assbags wanted from you, don't worry."

"What, then?"

"You know where that boy lives?" he asked, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the caged William.

"The outsider town of Watershed. What of it?"

"I want you to see him and that wagon safely back to Watershed."

"And then?"

"That's it. Do I have your word you'll do this when I free you?" She seemed to consider for a moment before nodding.

"You have it." Satisfied, Lisker bent down to grasp the tangled cords of the net and snatched them apart as though they were limp spaghetti noodles. The girl sprang up to her bare feet, backing away from him a step and staring into his faceplate. "What are you?"

"No one special," Lisker said as he walked over to the cage. William's cornflower eyes were wide in fear and awe, his knees trembling as Lisker grasped an iron bar in each hand and bent them apart with the sound of groaning metal. He stepped back as the unnamed Warrior Maiden reached in and grasped the younger boy about his thin shoulders.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice shaking.

"I've never seen a boy in such a state," the girl muttered sourly. "Come. Let's get you home, child."

Lisker said nothing as she half-carried William over to the buckboard seat of the wagon before untethering the horses. He waited until the pair was underway with the heavily-laden wagon before taking to the skies again. He searched for any sign that what he had seen had misled him, that his assessment of the situation was wrong.

He found himself disappointed.

Maria had toweled off and drained the tub, revelling in the feeling of being clean for the first time in months. She sat at the table, looking around at the somewhat unusual design of the house she and Lisker had more or less claimed as their own. The Wollo had never been in a human household before, and wondered at how big everything seemed to her. She might have fallen for a human, but some Wollo-sized furnishings wouldn't hurt...

She raced to the door as Lisker knocked on the other side and snatched it open only to have her buoyant mood lanced. His face was a study in frustration, his posture tense and fists clenched.

"Did something go wrong?" she asked, though she had no clue as to what could have happened.

"I fucked up," Lisker said simply before striding over to the table and falling into the chair Maria had just vacated. "Didn't consider all the possibilities."

"Huh?" Maria, perplexed, walked over to him and placed her hands on one shoulder. "Tell me."

"Gil's kid was alive. They had him a goddamned cage, starving."

"Those monsters," she spat, "no better than Mutants."

"They'd caught one of those Warrior Maidens, had her in a net and were about to rape her."

"You did stop this, right?"

"Oh, yeah. They won't be trying antything like it again, not even the ones I let get away. I got her to take the wagon of stuff they'd taken and see William home." His eyes squeezed shut at that. "One wagon. I didn't see it until it was too damn late."

"See what?! Lisker, what are you talking about?"

"One wagon, Maria," he said, turning to stare into her eyes. "Loaded down, but still nowhere near enough to account for months of raids. I didn't see any others around, either. Believe me, I looked. They were shipping everything out."

"To who..." The answer came to her in a flash of realization.

"To whoever hired them. They were doing someone else's scut work." He shook his head, clearly angry. "I didn't put a stop to anything. I started a war, and Watershed's gonna be in the middle of it."

"You think whoever the Clutch were working for will come here?"

"They'll want to know who threw a wrench in the works, and they'll go to Watershed for answers. Probably with a lot of weapons, a lot of fire, and plenty of bloodshed to go around."

Maria's jaw went slack and the urge to throw up nearly overwhelmed her as the truth of the matter set in and twisted her stomach without mercy. Tears welled in her eyes and guilt squeezed her heart like a vise.

"It's my fault," she said, her voice small and choked.

"What?"

"If I hadn't... oh, no..."

"Maria, don't..."

"If I hadn't brow-beaten you into getting involved..." Her words were cut off as Lisker's powerful arms encircled her, one hand stroking her hair and the other carressing her back.

"You can't blame yourself, you couldn't have known. Neither of us could've. Beating yourself up won't solve anything."

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder.

Lisker gently pulled back and wiped the tears from Maria's eyes.

"Don't apologize. Like it or not, we're mixed up in this now. I helped make this mess, and I'll clean it up." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Where the Clutch is concerned, the people of Watershed just became my responsibility. I can't leave them in this lurch, and that's because of you."

"I'm..."

"No, that's a good thing, all told," he said with a gentle smile. "If I was the same man I was on Second Earth, I'd have just moved along and forgotten about it. You changed that man, Maria, for better or for worse, and you should never apologize for that."

"For better or for worse," Maria repeated, her tears drying. "In sickness and in health. As long as we both shall live."

"Wedding vows?" Lisker asked, stunned.

"I told you before. As I am yours, you are mine."

"We'll have to keep our eyes and ears open," he said, all business again. "Once they come, I'll have to be ready."

"That will mean going into town, getting the lay of the land," Maria offered. "Getting to know the people of Watershed."

"They can't get to know us too closely," Lisker said. "If anyone finds out that I'm the one in the armor, someone could hit me where I'm most vulnerable."

"Me."

"If no one knows, protecting you will be a lot easier." Lisker gave an ironic snort. "Hell of a way to start a new life, isn't it?"

"It's still our life," Maria said as she cuddled next to him, "and we'll live it our way."

With Lisker's path set before him, he takes the first step toward his own redemption, but how long is the road, and with how many wicked curves? Will this road lead him to the confrontation with Guyver One he seeks, or into a new place entirely. Only time will tell.

Stay tuned for Episode Two of Eye of the Storm.