I was situated...somewhere. The landscape that, until now, was my home, was filled with elegant mountains and a rolling grassy plain. The nearly infinite forest was full of rich vigorous animate flora and fauna, elegant in the clockwork of life's cycle.

Wherever I was now had none of these features. My eyes swept over the horrid landscape. I gazed with horror at the ground, ripped up as if a fireball had scorched the scenery. There was no grass or any kind of life whatsoever: only tough, brown, cracked ground. I could feel the earth, broken and beaten, was ready to fragment into nothingness with one more stress upon it. In the distance, I could dimly see sand dunes that blanketed the scorched land. There were hills akin to the ones from my own world, but these ugly and inelegant foothills could not compare to the natural beauty and animate vitality of my home. The sky was overcast and forbidding, with clouds rumbling constantly; I could almost hear a voice warning me of Bad Things to come. This certainly confirmed my worst fear: I was a long way from home.

Another death-cry shook me from my melancholy state. The legion of armored warriors advanced towards me, each spurring their mounts on in an attempt to arrive before the others and slaughter me with their Iron Age weapons. I could hear their arrogant claims above the beating of the mounts feet.

Those...arrogant fools! How dare these...these...whatever they areseek to kill me for simple pleasure! I will not allow it! I have too much to live for, too much unaccomplished! Overseer has not been held accountable for his abuse of power, and I will not permit his blatant megalomania to go unchallenged!

New strength flowed through my veins, powered by my anger, my frustration, and my will to live. The old strength and dexterity that I had lost in Overseers revenge had returned once more, and I faced my would-be dispatchers with new vigor and determination. These pompous imbeciles would find this hybrid more of a match than any other hybrid they'd ever slaughtered before in their petty bloodlust!

Shut up. Roma said that I should try and stir up some drama, so thats what Im doing. Now, where was I?

Thats it. Slaughter. The rumbling of the mounts had halted, and I saw the riders dismount, their rusted armor clinking with every movement. Each was wearing full-bodied suits of armor, exposing no skin. Although the armor itself was dull silver, there was some kind of pearl aura that permeated from each of the soldiers, engulfing the surroundings like some kind of black hole. Each warrior was armed with one of a variety of weapons similar to what I had forged during the Iron Age.

However, the critical difference was in the quality of the armament. My arms were of the highest quality, sparing no expense or effort to develop the most effective weapons to inflict the most damage with the least effort. These cheap knockoffs were doubtless worn down by excessive use, with no thought as to the maintenance required to keep such primitive weaponry at peak operating capacity. Throughout the unit, there was not one rusted weapon with less than four or five nicks or other defects that sap efficiency. Nevertheless, each weapon glowed with a powerful aura as well, making the soldiers appear all the more as they circled around me.

The one with the most worn armor gave out crisp orders; his voice well disciplined and full of a tone that would leave no argument. The commanding officer, however, was not the one I was focusing on. The soldier standing at his right was much more powerful than his superior, if the auras magnitude was an indicator of power. The stronger man, much more stout than I, held himself with arrogance that I had never seen before, and will unlikely see again. His arms were crossed, and despite his faceplate being closed, I could nearly feel the force of his aura pulsating down upon me as he gazed upon my kneeling form. In either of his hands, he held a sword. One of the swords was glowing with the bright aura that was similar to the one surrounding him, and the other weapon was without luminescence. The latter weapon soon was tossed at my feet. Once more, I could see an arrogant smirk plastered on the soldier's features.

"Pick it up, monster. Lets see what you can do against a true man of the Lord." His voice was mocking, spiteful, and pontifical. Exactly what I imagined it would be.

My gaze swept over the weapon. Carefully, I gripped the handle, ensuring that there were no traps on the weapon. Feeling confident that there were none, my grip tightened and I stood, assuming a defensive stance. Smiling, I brought all of my accumulated knowledge of swordplay to the forefront of my mind as he came charging in, roaring a war cry.

A flashback of a Brute attack, after they had advanced to the Iron Age, flashed before my eyes. Now I saw three images dueling over one form before me: the Iron Age soldier crying something about someone named Savior, the massive Brute bearing down upon me with a crude roar, and the sadistic Overseer, responsible for my current condition. Any one of the images would have angered me with anger that could overcome any mere physical weakness that I might be burdened with. Anger restored strength and agility to my atrophied body.

Nearly five meters from me, the swordsman raised his glowing weapon, easily telegraphing his downward strike. Had this fool no skill, or did he simply underestimate me so much that he thought my destruction imminent?

The aura grew brighter as the sword came slicing down, aimed straight at my skull. At the last possible moment, I darted to the left, bringing my own rusted weapon to bear. As I rushed past, sword met armor, resulting in a terrifying clang. However, instead of the resistance I expected and the feel of weapon traveling through flesh, I felt the blade bounce off the armor harmlessly and spin me around, throwing me off balance. A massive trembling traveled through my only armament, a testament to the force that repelled its attack. How had my strike been repelled? That same force, if not less, had cut through steel before. Theres no evidence here of alloy strength higher than iron.

A dozen laughs were my only reply. My foe slowly turned, pulling his sword out of the ground as he did so. My eyes quickly focused to the point of impact, and found not a scratch on his armor. It didnt make any sense! I scored a direct hit!

Most of the jeers from the crowd continued. However, most were directed at my foes inability to kill me, to which he was defending himself. His back was to me. That...arrogance!

One soldier called out, "Hey Griffin, are you getting rusty from all that time you spend in the royal court?"

"He must be, if he can't even hit a little bug like that," another scoffed.

"If this keeps up, he'll be demoted to guard duty for the rest of his life," a third added in.

"And you call yourself a Paladin of the Faith-Holders?"

Griffin turned back to me. His aura, already bright as a star, exploded to greater luminosity. He pointed his sword, which had also brightened considerably, at me, and I vaguely heard a bell ring out in the distance.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.

Well stop it. Your tradition isn't exactly helping me out.

No time! A hasty leap to the side kept me from becoming the next trophy on Griffin's wall, but the blade slashed my leg, blood being vaporized instantly by the heat emanating from the soldiers aura. How, I knew not. All that I could feel was immense pain eating away at my limb. Rolling to my knees, I held the blade aloft once more. This time, however, I focused and charged the blade with my own bioelectricity. Now my blade had an aura of its own. I rose once more, wielding my rusted, charged weapon with determination. The armored warrior, obviously stunned by refusal to lie down and die, stepped back for a moment before regaining his wits and charging once again, bellowing.

Too predictable. Whoever this Griffin was, he was easier to anticipate than any Brute I had faced before, and that was saying quite a bit about this warrior's knowledge of strategy. Another downward chop was the soldiers obvious attack, and I acted accordingly. As his sword cleaved downward, I swung my own weapon to intercept. His chest and hands, left wide open by his unguarded attack, were easy prey. The electrified sword failed to impact, but the electricity that was flowing off of it connected like a lightning bolt. No shield could protect against electricity, since everything in the universe permeated some kind of electric field.

Needless to say, Griffin flew back several meters, his grip on the sword lost due to the sheer current running through his armor, sword, and body. Obviously unused to being on the receiving end of such a brutal reply to his attack, the Paladin had little knowledge how to balance himself from being pushed back, and fell on his backside. His head hit the hard ground, making a soft cracking sound as the earth gave way to the massive burden.

Smirking, I reveled in my victory. I could attack through whatever shield he could create, however he was able to manage it without technology, and he was too easily anticipated to hit me. Reveling in my success, I failed to notice him struggling to his feet and chanting some strange words until it was too late.

Golden shafts of light shot from his outstretched fingertips, with more following quickly and flying straight as an arrow. The rush of being forced on the defensive, adrenaline quickly replenishing my battered muscles, galvanized me into quick action. Crouching under the first beam, I awkwardly leapt and spun out of the path of the second and third, hoping that I was contorting in such a manner that it would make me more difficult to hit.

My luck ran only so far, and the fourth found its mark in my upper shoulder. Crying out in pain, I fell to the ground, my sword dropping limply. I weakly tried to apply pressure to my injured shoulder with my other claw, but my body refused to respond to my pleas. The adrenaline forced my weakened body too far beyond my limits, and the pain-numbing effect and euphoria emptied from my body as quickly as the blood that carried it was.

The pain...too great...

Darkness.

The heavy sound of a cart rolling unevenly over stones brought light back into my blurred vision. I felt rough hay below me, and my body curled to prevent further blood loss. Surrounding me were the uneven sounds of a dozen or so mounts, each steed located at a various point on the convoy that I appeared to be a part of. From what I could determine, I was being carried along as part of a food shipment.

If the two of you don't shut up, I'm going to...never mind. I'm too da...da...tired to do anything about it right now. I guess we're stuck in this cage until they decide to let us out.

Shut up!

The duo grumbled, but acquiesced to my authority as the Central personality. With great effort, I forced a more kind tone into my mental voice. You two seem to know an awful lot about this nightmarish world were now stuck in.

That's good to hear, because I want you to tell me everything you know about this place. Knowledge is power, after all. Didn't you two tell me that?

While Regulator and Basket were informing me of what the Designers had told them about the Fundamentalist Imperium, I made myself as comfortable as possible in the small cage. It was rather difficult, given the compact size of the cell. Most likely, it was constructed to hold small animals that were to be used for food. According to Regulator and Basket, there was no knowledge from my Designers that indicated cannibalistic tendencies in Imperial customs.

Before their explanation was complete, I made sure to ask my two guides about what blessed weapons were.

Reason-based weaponry?

Sounds interesting. Tell me, how would I gain access to one of these Reason-based weapons?

Shi...Shi...Why is it that whenever I need an incredibly vital piece of information, neither of you two has it?

They're just legends, laddie. The Designers might have some, but ah know of no human, hybrid, or otherwise that has ever actually wielded a weapon of Reason. Ah thought ye did pretty well with that sword o' yers...ah never heard of anything gettin' through a Faithist shield before.

Is there anything else that you know, o wealth of knowledge?

In other words, you're bored. So you're going to go get drunk and fu...fu...well, you know, to all of my female personas.

I'm really beginning to get irritated at those two imbeciles...the continual and recurring themes of their arguments are becoming hackneyed.

My focus shifted outward once more. Grabbing one of the rusted bars with one of my claws, I attempted to pull myself up into a something akin to a half-sitting position. My vision had refocused, and I could see vividly once more. In fact, I saw just enough to realize that a spear butt was aimed for my eye and...what?

Ahh! I flew backwards as far as the prison would let me and I grabbed my eye as my vision exploded into stars. Roaring out in pain, I curled up into a ball. Apparently, the other soldiers got the idea, and stab-the-hybrid began in earnest. Wooden spear butts, iron sword handlesthey wanted me live and kicking, not dead. After all, a cadaver doesnt provide that much entertainment. My hatred kept me conscious, but only dimly aware of my surroundings. The pain grew to such a degree that I swam for both breath and consciousness, only to have a spear end smash a few teeth in. The last thing I recall was a dull prod in my rear end and a mocking Griffin say to me, "I'll be doing this later, and I won't be using a spear."

Sometimes unconsciousness can be a wonderful thing; I didn't want to know what he meant by that, nor did I care then. The uneven beat of the horses was soon replaced by the hubbub of voices: Where had all these people come from? Where had this city come from? Perhaps I had been out longer than I thought.

A small crowd had gathered, and all the people assembled looked upon me with varying degrees of rejection and disgust. Dragging me by a lead attached to an iron collar around my neck, the leader of the Paladin platoon towed me to a small wooden platform. I attempted unsteadily to regain my balance, but an armored foot wasted no time in violently pressing me back into the ground. The crowd began to cheer at my misfortune as my face smashed into the tough wood, reopening yet more cuts and abrasions that I had gained from the blessed weaponry of the Paladins.

After a few moments of this humiliation, a different Paladin- it might have been the same one, I couldn't know or care if it was- grabbed the chain attached to my collar and hauled me to my feet. Gasping for breath, I followed quickly. Throwing the chain over an overlying wood plank, he locked off one end of the chain to an iron spike coming from the wooden support for the plank. I was now standing on my toes just to keep my throat open and air circulating into my lungs. I couldnt move my arms or legs, for the manacles were too heavy and I too weak to ease my predicament.

I was struggling to keep a tight rein on my consciousness, but it was incredibly difficult. Each instant was a constant battle against my blood loss and air circulation being cut off from the heavy collar. To make matters worse, a Paladin stood in front of me and addressed the crowd in a well-practiced manner.

Extending his arm, he turned slightly and waved towards me. His voice was haughty and elated. "Fellow Fundamentalists, we of the Holy Imperialist Military found this thing trespassing on Imperial territory. We have captured this abomination with our Holy weaponry blessed by our great Father, and we have brought this horror for you to gaze upon. Hear me, my fellow followers of the Lord: He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone!"

Dozens, hundreds of stones began to pummel me relentlessly. It was very possible that I blacked out again, because the next event that I remember was being thrown into a wall. Regaining a few of my senses yet again, I surveyed my surroundings. I was in a dark corridor, lit by a few flickering torches down the squalid hallway.

The dark stone and architecture used reminded me of some of my Iron Age buildings, but there were vast differences, which I noticed as I was thrown down each and every hallway, smashing into each and every wall, slime pouring on me from cracks in the masonry. The only way I could compare this building to mine was if I let some Brutes run wild in my settlement and let them redecorate.

As I thought about the "good old days" with the Brutes as my only worry, a small smile grew on my lips. I felt a twinge of nostalgia as I recalled the time where I had no idea what time was. The only possible worries I had were when the next acid rain would come, and I didnt even have to worry about that after a while. Those were good days, weeks, years, whatever.

Then Overseer had to send me by unknown means to this pathetic excuse for an existence. Meanwhile, he just had to break my health as a lesson for my rebellion.

This temporary reflection upon my earlier life and my consequent happiness apparently didn't sit very well with my captors, as one of them promptly smacked me on the face with the flat of his sword. I spun around and fell to the ground. Receiving a massive kick to the abdomen, I was tossed through the air by the massive force of the punt and crashed into the wall. My breath, only recently returned, left once more in a roar of pain. My vertebrae felt paralyzed; any feeling below my tailbone swiftly left me. Had I been paralyzed? Would I no longer be able to walk?

No time to think about that. I was quickly grabbed by the lead attached to my neck collar and dragged along the stone floor, gasping for breath as deeply and often as I could. My useless legs, unable to function, were towed limply behind me. After an indeterminate amount of time, my captors dropped me in a heap on the ground, blood spilling everywhere.

Straining my neck, I slowly raised my head to inspect my current setting. The last thing I noticed was one of the Paladins talking to a woman in a white robe before I blacked out yet again.

I bolted awake, sitting up as quickly as possible. My head smashed into something soft. Thinking that it might be one of my captors, I continued to move, falling down on top of my supposed adversary. Thats when I began to notice the small discrepancies; the Paladins that I was attacked by werent women, and I was quite sure that my head happened to be nestled in between two fairly large breasts. Furthermore, my claw had accidentally moved upwards towards the waist in an attempted uppercut, but my hand was stopped by another attribute that didn't match with soldiers: they didn't wear skirts.

I slowly brought my head up, resting my chin on my companions breastbone as I began to relax slowly. I saw Femme's rather startled face staring back at me. Her face was redder than her blouse- a rather resilient red, I now noticed- and her breathing was much faster than usual.

That meant that I was in a rather awkward position. Attempting to scramble off of my startled female companion, I soon found my path blocked by a pair of arms around my waist and another pair of breasts pressing into my back. These were a bit smaller than Femme's...what was I thinking?

"It's good to see you again, Central..." A familiar sultry voice that whispered into my ear.

Felicity. I relaxed completely as I finally confirmed that I was in the theater. However, this encouraged the frisky Felicity to move her hands downward from their present positions. As much as I really needed to relax, I think a full-body massage would probably be more prudent than sexual intercourse in my mind at this point. I found myself in the middle of a body sandwich.

A very bad pun would be to state that I was in a Central sandwich.

Femme must have been exercising before I arrived, considering how rapidly she was breathing. Pushing myself off of her, and brushing Felicity off my back, I counted the personas assembled. The only ones here were Felicity, Femme, Roma, Discipline, Prism, and Ethics. Where was everyone else?

As if anticipating my question, Roma spoke up. "Those boys and the other women rushed off to the action theatre and turned it into a war room. Humph. I cant stand you little boys and your war games. Why cant we all just get-" She was promptly silenced as a crème pie was tossed into her face.

I smiled as I knew only one persona that would to commit such a deed. Turning, I saw Basket in his usual black velvet shirt, contrasting with a white Armani suit. He shrugged. "She had it coming."

I shook my head and smirked as I noticed Roma trying to get all the crème out of her face and failing miserably. It was quite a comical sight. "Basket, you are by far the most unusual persona here."

Basket smiled quirkily. "I'll take that as a compliment. Anyway, Reggie sent me here to collect you. He probably just did it to get me out of his hair. You better head off to the Action theatre. I'll keep everyone else here company."

Smirking, I asked, "Oh? And just what will you be doing?"

A larger grin was splayed across Baskets features. "The usual of course. It seems that all of these fine ladies could use a littlecompanionship."

I laughed for the first time since my arrival in this existence of ignorant warriors as I made my way to the Action theatre. As I was strolling by, I noticed the Janitors closet barricaded with as much furniture as could possibly be assembled, as well as the door being welded shut. Noticing Pest walking by, I grabbed onto his arm. I decided to ask a question that had been bothering me for some time. "Why is the Janitor's closet welded shut and barricaded?"

Snarling, the eternal Pest yanked his arm away before straightening his suit jacket. His voice was sharp and mocking, as per usual. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen. Mist almost got out. If that happened, we could kiss Humanity goodbye! You get me, Central?"

Frowning, I replied, "What do you mean? Its not as if Mist could actually do anything on the outside of this theater anyway. Besides, all of my personas are loyal to me, even you."

Pests voice rose. "You just don't get it, do you? This is Mist were talking about! He can harm Overseer! You have no idea how powerful Mist can be...and what he can do."

A persona that could harm Overseer? "He can harm Overseer? What's the problem?"

Head hanging low, Pest tsked. "You blithering idiot. If Mist got loose, he could- and would- take control of your body and never let you out! You'd be stuck here with the rest of us and couldnt do a dada...thing about it!"

This is all so confusing...why would one of my personas try and keep me locked away? Theyre all under my control...aren't they?

"You don't even know why he was installed, do you?"

Pest's voice brought me back to the present. I shook my head.

Pest replied, "He was your kill switch. If you ever got out of hand, Mist would activate and kill you. That was Overseer's plan."

Kill switch? If I ever got out of hand...but if that's true, "Why didn't Overseer just activate him when I rebelled? Why send me here?"

The reply was quick and laced with anger. "How should I know? All I do know is that you should fear Mist. If he gets out, not only will you lose control, but youll be forced to watch as he destroys Humanity."

"You never told me why, or how, he would do that."

Pest rolled his eyes. Although he didn't say it, his tone suggested one of those bits of information that anyone should know. "Mist has a double purpose. Hes supposed to protect you as well as being your executioner. After all, youre a valuable piece of genetic machinery. The Designers wouldn't want you dead if you werent out of their jurisdiction. Mist can and will destroy all of Humanity because they could be a threat to your well-beingat least, that's the way I think he sees it."

Running off, Pest left me alone to mull over things as I continued to the Action theatre.