Even with the cloak thrown back into his face he continued on, grabbing it with his free hand instead just in case he could use it. As the rock was deflected, almost simultaneous with Sturm's warning, he tried to halt his movement, but even the improved reflexes granted to him by his Glyph of Celerity did not allow him to dodge a veritable wall of electricity sent at him.

Once more static electricity launched him onto his back, and once more he it took several moments for him to regain any sense or functioning of his body. When he did, he very much wished he hadn't.

Eilert was used to pain to an extent--dealing with the disease that eventually claimed his life allowed him to grow accustomed to pain over long increments of time. It did nothing, however, to prepare him for the short but intense burst of nerve-wracking madness that was two thousand volts of electricity running through his body.

How he remained conscious through it he didn't know (it was likely the Glyph of Will), but he rather wished he'd been knocked out. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe, and every inch of him hurt like hell.

The electricity died down quickly, leaving Icsorue hunched over, gasping for air. In the end, Sturm and Eilert were both limp on the floor, smoke lifting from their bodies--but they were alive. Their hearts retained normal function and their breathing continued. It was going to be several minutes before they could lift themselves off of the floor again, and at least a minute before they could do something as minor as speak. That would come in time, though. Silver had acknowledged that they were alive--and presumed that they would not be alive for much longer.



"Stop it . . . stop it . . . please," the woman could be heard whimpering, unable to do much more than plead for Silver's mercy--not on her, but her friends. Mercy, that he may abstain from having her kill them.

"Icsorue Jaini Lahmendt is a very special woman," Silver then tapped his index and middle fingers upon Icsorue's shoulder, "Walk."

She did. No matter how much she tried to stop it at first, she straightened up her back and stepped forward. The pink enigma couldn't look at her friends, though; she couldn't bare to see what she had just done to them. Her eyes focused upon the floor, and found nothing more than metal sheets, uninteresting, unable to hold her attention. It hurt.



The only remaining prime director of the guardians' organization, the Guardian of Utopia by proxy, stepped forward, and Icsorue followed through with the step, consistently in front of him, but out of a mild show of will, her strides were longer than his. She was a bit ahead of him. Silver did not notice, though. Either he failed to recognize the distance, or he simply did not care. There was no conclusive way to get into Silver's mind; many had tried, all had failed.

"She was an orphan, as you both know. Her parents left her in the trash as a newborn baby. An orphan raised by three foster "families." Her first foster family was ran by an abusive, drunken father, who beat her in the skull with a pitcher of ale when she wanted to get an education. She subsequently ran away."

". . . sh-shut up . . ."



"Her second foster "family" an only mother--insane. Bi-polar, even. She treated her like gold, then locked her outside. No one could stand the woman, no man would touch her, and yet, if I am accurate, she was beautiful for her age. She died alone one night; she cried herself to sleep and never woke up. Icsorue found her the next morning, still clutching her pillow. She was a lonely woman. She adopted Icsorue to fulfill an emptiness in her heart that never could be filled. Icsorue was not her child, and she was much too mad for any man to marry her, let alone give her a family like she wanted."

". . . stop . . . stop it," Icsorue breathed in deep.

The pink enigma's head was hung low, her arms dangling before her. Silver was drudging up painful memories. She couldn't understand why he was doing it, either. What--was he trying to psyche her out? He didn't need to do that anymore than he already had! She had unloaded two thousand volts of electricity into her closest living friends! She was already fucking psyched out! This was just . . . this was just overkill. Icsorue breathed in quick, shallow breaths, trying to block Silver out, but failing each and every time.

"And then, she was adopted by scientists. They sought to make her special. They told her that she could have anything she wanted with the power they would give her, and do you know what she said?"

This time, Icsorue was sniffling. She had started to cry earlier, and it never died down. Now, it was just noticeable. "S-stop . . . shut up . . . shut up!"



"She said she wanted to grow old, get married, and have a family," Silver continued, "She said she didn't want to die alone. They told her she could have just that. The ten year old girl was subject to the worst fields of science ever conceived, and she became sick. They tried to give her powers, but it seemed as if she never succeeded. In the night, she was alone and sick. She had a high fever. No one came to help her. She clutched her pillow to her chest all night long and cried out of pain--"

"Shut up!!" Icsorue cried out, interrupting Silver, but doing no good.

"--and in her stress, her sickness, and her rueful feelings, released six thousand volts of electricity throughout the room. She died there, alone. They lied to her. They weren't making her "special." They were making her into a weapon. And a very potent weapon she is, do you not agree?"

Eilert closed his eyes, unable to do anything but listen. For such a sweet child to be subject to such a cruel reality, while someone wretched like him lived a full, happy life...it truly was not fair.

For several moments after Silver finished speaking he coughed and hacked, desperately attempting to clear his lungs. When he finally found his voice, he opened his eyes, addressing not the controller but the controlled.

"Ic...so...rue. You...are...not...a...wea...pon."

". . . Ei-Eilert . . ." whispered Icsorue.

It was almost exactly what she needed to hear. She still sniffled, but the tears slowly began to stop. That was one thing she hated to be known as: a weapon. She was being used a weapon, and almost every other operative in the organization thought of her as a lethal weapon with a hairpin trigger. She hated that distinction--she wanted to be considered a human being. That was all she wanted from them. It wasn't like any of them could fulfill her life dream or anything; it wasn't like her life dream was even viable, anyways. Still--this was . . . touching. Heart warming.

Skeptical, Silver presented the question: "If she is not a weapon, then what is she?"

"A . . . hu-man . . ." Sturm coughed, adding onto Eilert's statement--sharing the same feelings, ". . . be . . . ing."



He, like Eilert, could barely manage talking. But despite that, he needed to let his feelings be known. Tyrian Sturm was not known for having feelings at all; he was usually regarded as an intellectual who thought little of emotion and put all of his faith into science. He did care for Icsorue, though, and like Eilert, refused to think of her as something of a weapon. To him, she was a human being--an irreplaceable human being.

"D-Dr. Tyr . . ." Icsorue whispered. She was thankful for the both of them. Truly, truly thankful . . .

At this, Silver announced fondly: "Then it wasn't the pink enigma, the weapon, that killed the Gold Enigma, but Icsorue Lahmendt, the human being!"

Icsorue's head popped up immediately. The moment she experienced just earlier had her heart slowly going back to a normal rhythm. She was starting to feel normal again. But this . . . this pulled the rug out from underneath of her. "W-wot?!"

Eilert's stomach turned at that...he was actually beginning to wonder if it wasn't he who caused Gold's death. It made him sad to hear that she was dead after all; he'd held hope that she just, as Silver had said earlier, lost contact and was still out there somewhere. But upon learning Silver's true aim, he wasn't surprised.

What did shock him is that he was blaming her death on her. "You...are the one...who is to blame...Silver. Not...her."

Knowing that Silver would quickly point out the contradiction, he added, "She would...never do that...of her...own will."

"I wasn't even there," replied Silver.



"oI didn't . . . oI didn't kill her," Icsorue denied the possibility with a quick shake of her head. She downright refused to believe that it was possible, especially since she couldn't remember anything even vaguely similar to it.

"Close to a month ago, Icsorue accompanied the Gold enigma on a routine investigation of the City of Sin. As it was the location of the first shade event in history, it has been monitored and personally checked over for quite some time. The people of that city barely noticed either of the two women. And they especially didn't notice when the Gold enigma stood at the peak of a run down complex, facing out, watching the setting sun while she delivered a heartfelt message to the woman who idolized her so. And they especially didn't notice when the pink enigma attacked her while her back was turned, and in a mad assault, slayed her superior in cold blood. No . . . one . . . noticed."



"Shut up . . . shut up! SHUT UP!" Icsorue's voice rose from a whisper to a scream at the very top of her lungs. "You're LYING!"

"You're starting to remember it, are you not?" Silver questioned, disregarding Icsorue's show of rage, "Is this not what a weapon is? A weapon has dreams and wishes just like any other, but a weapon is weak. That is the difference between a living being and a weapon. A weapon has no will--just like Icsorue Jaini Lahmendt. She. Is. My. Weapon."

This received no reply from the woman. She couldn't bare to reply. She couldn't bare to say yes. Trembling all over, Icsorue fell to her knees. She couldn't turn around to attack Silver. She couldn't unleash an attack behind her. She couldn't attack all around her. Icsorue couldn't hurt this man, no matter how badly she wanted to. All she could do was sit there, collapsed upon her knees, hands over her face, eyes shut tight. She was bawling. She could remember. She could remember every vivid detail.



"No . . . no . . . oI didn't . . . oI didn't . . ."

It didn't matter that Eilert tried to tell her that it wasn't she that killed her, but Silver--that he was responsible, that there was no blood on her hands--but how could she believe that? The pleasant dusk, the sun setting, Gold standing before her, Icsorue taking in every word as if the woman were delivering a personal elegy. She never knew about it--anything about it. The memory was slow coming, and now she just wanted it to disappear. She wanted to remain ignorant. No person that cared for her would ever have drudged that up. Why did she even do it?! How could . . . how . . .

"St . . . op this . . . Silver!" Sturm fought to shout. "What . . . you--you're doing . . . this is . . ." Sick.

"Are you a humanitarian now, Tyrian?" Silver asked, his attention then drawn to another target: Sturm. "Do you forget your own atrocities? The injustices that you subjected this weapon to ever so selfishly?"

Though he was angered by Silver's words (not just for Icsorue, but because his words applied to him as well) and wanted nothing more than to struggle to his feet, he instead carefully tested out his body with small movements, determining how much strength he still had.

Not much, but if I...

"Icsorue...is human. It is you...that is...warped. You see...all others...as tools...as weapons." Regardless of what Silver said, there was no doubt in his mind at this point that if Icsorue did kill the Gold Enigma, it was because she was subject to Silver's control.

He did not have any real reason for it, but he believed that Silver's ability usually did not allow for the subject to retain personal awareness...either his hold on Icsorue right now was weak, or he was letting her remain conscious for his own amusement.

Either way, he needed to put a stop to it...as soon as he could move. Until then, it was best to let Silver keep talking--he obviously thought that with Icsorue protecting him, the threat he and Sturm presented was minimal. It was best to let him keep thinking that.

Sturm was quieted with quickness and efficiency. He knew exactly what Silver was getting at, and he had to bite his tongue before he spoke again. Unfortunately, he couldn't let his gun do the talking: it had fallen out of his hand as soon as he hit the ground prior to the two thousand volts of electricity that was poured into he and Eilert. Any sane man would have wanted Silver dead at that moment, especially if that sane man still had something to lose.

"Incorrect," replied Silver to Eilert, "And that is one flaw of human beings. Judgment. Gaia does not judge; He does not look upon creation and disregard the sinners like a hypocrite. That is for we human beings to do. You, Eilert, who passes judgment despite your own greatest sin: Apathy. What is more cruel to the grieving child than the gaze of apathy? You, who aided in the breaking of her psyche with a pure lack of care when she cried out for attention, for someone to comfort her. You were consistent in her life, one of the few she ever wanted to understand her, because she was comfortable around her--and you never did care."

"And then, Tyrian. Tyrian Sturm, a man she trusted with her life. Tyrian's sin is lust," Silver continued.

"Shut . . . up," Sturm coughed, his voice gruff and demanding, "Silver!"



But Silver paid this no heed. "The weapon trusted him with everything she had. He was the one man she looked up to more than any other; a father figure, you could say, but warped. Icsorue never was sane, after all. What is worse, Eilert? To not care, or to take advantage?"

"SHUT . . . UP!!" Sturm shouted as loud as he could, despite the pain in his body. If he could have reached his gun, he'd put an end to this right now, and no one would have to know what Silver was talking about.

"I suppose I must be fair; she is the one that seduced him, but he did not act the adult in the situation at all, did he? That in itself is a breech of trust, is it not? And I had not even requested her to do so. For convenience, it was simply necessary that she forget some length of her lifetime."

Icsorue stared wide eyed at the floor. On her knees, she had hunched over, her hands wrapped around her stomach. At that exact moment, Icsorue Lahmendt was beginning to feel sick. Each time Silver began on a subject that had been repressed, flashes of memories began to cycle through her head, and as tears collected onto the metal floor inches from her face, she began to remember a moment alone--a moment two years prior. A moment she shouldn't have forgotten--a moment she was asked to forget. And a year she was commanded to ignore.

". . . vacation . . . that year . . . oI was . . . no . . . no . . . oI wasn't . . ." She didn't even sound like she was crying anymore; the tears were falling, but she could only sound shocked.

"She could have lived her dream if permitted. But she had to give that up for all of this. Is Fate allowed to be judged, too?"

That was something she couldn't even begin to fathom, and yet . . . it was all coming back. The "vacation" was . . . nice, even. She spent it on the southern beaches of Greoul, one of the few places in the world that could boast itself a "vacation spot." A true vacation spot, at that; no commercialism, just a few shops scattered about between homes and a hospital. She was happy there, and presumed her membership in the organization would soon come to an end. She could surprise Sturm--and how surprised he'd be! She had just got up and took a leave of absence, no one knowing why. Eilert was in Greoul, too, and she badly wanted to see him about this, to give him the news that had her, for the first time in her life, giggly excited, but she simply couldn't find the gates for the life of her.

One brief flash in her mind that truly got to her was a single still frame image in time: Icsorue sat in the sand, adorning in a flowing white dress fit to her growing size, her left arm gently draped over a modest belly, and a small booklet in her right hand--smiling. And then, it wasn't much more than months before she was in pain, and weeks before she was alone again. Icsorue couldn't stop crying even if she wanted to.

". . . s-stop . . . stop it . . . please! PLEASE!" Icsorue cried out, screaming as hard as her lungs would allow. The woman was reduced to a state of begging--and now for her own mercy. She didn't want to remember these--she wanted to be ignorant. She wanted to maintain a will to be.

"In Gaia's world, she'd have the opportunity with Tyrian and child," Silver announced, "Because He is a forgiving God who can overlook each of your sins and provide you the happiness that you do not deserve."

"Gaia does not judge? You both wish to destroy this world because it does not meet your expectations--if that is not judgment, than I do not know what is."

His voice was coming back, his breathing returning to normal...a good sign. He might be able to get up soon. He wondered if Sturm was likewise recovering.

Silver's revelation gave him much to think about--there were many things he had to think about, now that he was willing to think again. But in direct defiance to what Silver just said about him, he would not pass judgment on Sturm and Icsorue.

"I do not claim to know whether what they did was right...and I know that I am partly to blame for not caring," he added quietly. This he could not deny--he was a weak man, and because of that he was easily controlled, easily manipulated, easily fooled. "Humans are quick to see flaws in others, and not in themselves...and we are often quick to judge because of it. But...we can also use that to help others overcome their flaws."

"Who are you to preach morality when you so readily take advantage of the weakness of others? You are the very reason you believe this world beyond saving..."

However much he saw the flaws in Silver's reasoning, he was still having a great deal of affect on Icsorue. I cannot go back and be there for her...but I can start to now.

"Icsorue...I won't lie to you. I cannot say that everything will be alright. But you are not alone--you have Tyrian and myself. Do not turn your head from reality--I know it is unpleasant, but...I realize that only by facing it will things improve."

All these years he'd been a fool...unable to deal with the loss of the life he'd known, he hid himself rather than making the most of the one he had. Now that he finally realized that his life was indeed worth living, he was not ready for everything to end.

"I know you are strong, Icsorue. Don't let him break your will...he's afraid of you. He knows that unlike me, you don't need aid to resist him."

"It is nothing more than a temporary lapse," replied Silver, "She has them when others are near. Her mind accepts orders, but she retains consciousness. This is the last time, however. My purpose will soon be complete. It is only unfortunate that it must be further prolonged."

The difference between Silver's statements and Eilert's was an extremely wide range--from calling her a human being to calling her a weapon, she was at a loss of what to think. One line of thinking had her wanting to walk away from all of this with Eilert and Sturm, but the other line of thinking had her wanting to die--to personally die through some means, either through ending herself, dying of disease, or being killed in some sort of battle. She was either a person or a tool, and no matter these varying thought processes, she couldn't bring herself to do much more than cry. Icsorue couldn't even stand up on her own; if Silver asked it of her, she still might have found difficulty.

"Now, kill them, Icsorue," commanded Silver.



". . . no . . . no, oI--oI . . . . oI . . ." she sobbed, desperately denying the order--hopelessly trying to show some degree of will that could break his hold over her, anything that could save the lives of the others. She felt the order, though--the command reverberating through her mind and heart. She couldn't deny it, no matter how much she wanted to. Eilert and Sturm were people she desperately wanted to live, people she wanted to live in her place. The will to continue had been all but sapped, after all. With no other option available, the woman resorted to pleading. "Please--please!! Please don't make me do this! They're . . . they're my friends . . . please . . . !"

As if it mattered when he told her to kill Gold, when she begged then and he coldly declared that she would act without mercy. She knew begging was fruitless, though.

The last prime director started towards the double doors, while Sturm slowly started to get to his feet. It was slow coming, but the effects of the earlier shock were wearing off. Unfortunately, it took Silver even less time to ascend the few steps available and pull the double doors open.



Silver posed one final order before he allowed the double doors to close behind him: "And then, yourself."

Sturm was finally up, his gun in hand, and he aimed a dead line down the atrium . . . fruitlessly. By the time he finally had his bearings back in order and could do something so minor as stand, the double doors had swallowed Silver in a groan of weight and death. Sturm was just a moment too late, and cursed excessively under his breath, far too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Eilert did not comment on Silver's final orders, but the murderous look in his eyes was one needed to see to know how he felt about them. He was determined to prevent her from carrying out any part of them.

The absence of the command giver was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, Silver's presence gave another option for breaking the control other than him laying a hand on Icsorue: hurting or killing would presumably work equally well. It also meant Icsorue would have to worry about protecting him.

On the other hand, she was certainly not as tactically inclined as the Prime Director, so tricking her into slipping up so they could free her would be much easier.

His first action was to activate another glyph on his body: the Glyph of Power, one that amplified the strength of the user. In this case, it would give him the strength to move again after having been electrocuted.

His second was to immediately place both his hands on Sturm's arm and give him both the Glyphs of Power and Celerity, giving him a boost in strength and speed as well.

"I believe I can handle her myself, if you wish to go after Silver," he suggested--Sturm's objective, after all, was to save the world. Eilert promised to himself, though, that he'd start being there for Icsorue--he would not leave until he ensured her safety.

Eilert's hand on his arm surprised Sturm partially, but it wasn't a forceful grip. It didn't take him long to understand what Eilert was doing, either. Sturm stood up straight, his eyes narrowed and locked upon the double doors to Selena's quarters--the apex of Silver's sanitarium.

"Right," Sturm nodded to Eilert, taking one step forward--speaking as if he were following an order, but knowing in his heart that it was his intention all along: for years, even.

Determined to progress quickly, Sturm made it a point to rush by Icsorue. He didn't want to fight her--nor did he want Eilert to fight her. He had the same idea as Eilert, truthfully: eliminate the source, and Icsorue should be fine. If Eilert could just hold her off for long enough, everything would be fine; Icsorue wouldn't even have to be physically harmed. Sturm simply didn't want to bring it to that, knowing the mental and emotional damage that was done to her in just the last ten minutes alone. She'd recover--he knew she would, because she had help, now. Eilert was no longer going to turn an apathetic eye to her, and Sturm did not intent to leave her alone, if absolutely possible.

He only made it past her by a foot. Sparks flickered in the air, electricity running up the walls and dancing across the ceiling like an open circuit. Sturm's own momentum was turned back on him.



"Ngg--GAH!" Sturm released a pained shout once more as he was thrown to his back once again, smoke exuding from the center of his chest.

Icsorue couldn't watch. Sturm had landed back first onto the metal floor, cracking it again. He clenched his jaw tight and sustained the urge to let out another shout of pain. Icsorue continued to stare at the floor, unable to move her eyes away. She was broken, barely capable of moving, helpless--but her powers were at work without her own input. She couldn't shut them down, they were going to follow Silver's orders whether she wanted them to or not. The only reason Sturm survived was Eilert . . .

"Run-- . . ." Icsorue gasped, "Run away . . ."

"Sturm!" It seemed that even though she wasn't moving, she was still perfectly capable of using her powers--whether she wanted to or not. But she must have had some semblance of control, or surely she would have lethally struck already.

In response to her, he shook his head. "I'm tired of running."

Deciding that sudden movements were a bad idea at the moment, Eilert instead began to slowly, carefully approach her. "It'll be okay. You can fight this; the fact that we're still alive is proof."

Besides, so long as she wasn't moving, the tactic he intended to use wasn't viable anyway. He had a few backup ideas, but they were all rather risky.

"No . . ." Icsorue shook her head.

Grunting to himself, Sturm slowly pulled himself back up. The support glyphs that Eilert had were extensively useful. Sturm didn't figure something so simple would have saved his life, but then again, magic--or any of its derivatives--was not his specialty. Biology in particular, however, was, and he should have in no way survived another fifteen hundred volts of electricity into his body. The only explanation was that the muscles in his body were absorbing the shock at a superior pace.

Standing up straight, he checked his firearm once, and then the situation at hand. More and more sparks were flickering about the emotionally damaged pink enigma--more and more danger that had to be overcome. If it even could be. Sparks emitted themselves and faded just as quick as they came, but the flashing lights were at such tangential rate that approaching too close would be a risk in of itself. How to avoid that, though, Sturm had no idea. They had to get to her, and somehow put her down--preferably with minimal physical pain. The gun in his hand wasn't made for her.



"No . . . no--it won't--" Icsorue felt like she was choking on each word, "It won't be okay. It won't be . . . oI won't be . . ."

Flames erupted with each touch of electricity upon the steel. Infernos within themselves rose by feet, growing rapidly and dying out just as quickly for lack of flammable surface on which to cling. It touched any surface, however: floor, ceiling, or wall. The sparks fired in rapid succession, crawling up her body, caressing every curve, scattering, and clinging to surface after surface. The room, once lit by torch light, flickered and flashed under the grim illumination of electricity generated at a rapid pace and kept in place--active by virtue of the atrium itself. Metal was the conductor, and Icsorue the generator.

Approaching at that moment became a severe danger. Obviously, Icsorue had some degree of control over herself, or she would have already dealt finishing blow to Eilert and Sturm--but if she could only sustain so much, and it simply continued to build, they'd at least have to avoid taking chances at certain moments--when it was obvious like this, at least. Sturm walked to the side a bit, eying the scene before him.

"Eilert--Eilert!" Sturm shouted over the flared of electrical noise, "Get back!"

Eilert had already paused his advance upon seeing the myriad of energy Icsorue was summoning around her. He was willing to take the risk of injury if it meant being able to put the glyph on her, but it would do no good if he was killed or incapacitated before he did.

When Sturm shouted, he reacted instantly as he recalled what happened last time he felt the need to warn him. He leaped back several feet, landing near the item key to one of his back up plans: his cloak, which he was now grateful he hadn't detonated.

"We will survive this, Icsorue. And from here, things can only improve." Of that he was fairly certain.

At a loss for what to do at the moment, he threw a questioning look to Sturm. "If I can't get near her, and she won't move..."

The only idea he had for that case was a gamble in the sense that whether or not it worked was entirely up to chance--but if it failed, it would likely eliminate a major option of theirs.