Do Fatima Dream of Synthetic Sheep? (Open)

[Nemesis]

November 1st, 2880
Lunar Expanse
Past Teatime

"-es? Raines?"

Ah.

Raines Angetener opened his eyes.

The hum of the cockpit surrounded him, the whine of oxygen being pumped in that kept him tethered to the world of the living. Stretching, he glanced to his left, rewarded with the sight of two near-identical VF-11 Super Pack Thunderbolts, cruising in formation with his own. The radio crackled to life, and a chiding voice came through.

"We're entering the combat area, autopilot off. Besides, there's Dragons out here - you really want to be their dinner that badly?"

A chuckle was solicited from the third pilot, as Raines grumbled, switching the Valkyrie's systems over to manual, the three machines wingtips tilting as they lowered themselves towards the surface. He was trying to remember what the dream was about... but the lingering sense of familiarity curdling in his chest meant it could only be one thing:

Home.

"Dragons, huh?" He said conversationally as he worked the controls with one hand, biting off a chunk of some ambiguously fruit-flavored ration-stick with the other in a futile attempt to stave off the drowsiness. The artificial taste clung to the roof of his mouth, to his gums, and he suspected, would be clinging to his ribs for the next ten years. Sceptre-2 piped up as they dove low, cresting close to the white surface of the planetoid. Even at this altitude, he could make out the piles of debris below from those that had come before, and been less fortunate.

Talented, he corrected himself. Less talented.

"Some egghead was trying to tell me the other day that it's an acronym now."

"Really? Whats the world coming to?"

"We're coming up on the target now. Remember, the League wants it investigated, anything of value secured. You got that, Raines?"

He opened his mouth to give his assent as they crested the horizon - but the words died in his throat as soon as the silhouette came into view.

It never ceased to amaze him how great things looked when they were broken. The vessel in question looked as if it had been nothing more but a wooden model, thrown carelessly against the the floor, to splinter into a million charred pieces. Yet-

...Those spires. The material. The tattered, fluttering remnants of a faded banner. He had to be dreaming again. He must have been. All of his thoughts ground to a halt unable to process what was in front of him, what he'd been spending all his time trying to forget, to get away from, yet... In his minds eye, he could see it as it had once been, clear as day.

Because he had been there.



The scattered pieces of black and blue, the almost unrecognizable chunks of metal...

All of it had once been theirs.

Yet, as his eyes surveyed the disaster and the disbelief faded, another thought occurred to him wearily, as the exact amount of debris started to gnaw at him:

Where was the rest of it?

"...Raines? Hello? Can you hear me?"

 

[Kujo]

"Aircraft approaching, Master"
"Oh?"

​

Atop a dusty lunar crest stood an ashen figure, the fine rock gently drifting off its tall, lithe form from the subtle movement of it coming to attention. The machine's uncanny eye cast itself about the formation of Valkyries, taking them in as if it were a noble turning their nose up at refuse. "Aura, find their line, would you?"

The grey machine strode forward, half walking half sliding down the hill with evident weight before steadily ascending a second crest closer to the wreck.

"If you're here for this, do yourself a favor and clear out," commanded the man inside the machine. "Or do they not not have 'finders keepers' in this system?" To better illustrate its command, the machine raised a large shield at the variable fighters, its bottom tip pointed in their direction to reveal a large gun barrel; the machine's other hand casually rested upon the pommel of a hefty physical blade, its tip embedded in the lunar earth.

While certainly a sight for his wing-mates, the sinister eye of the adversarial machine would be all too familiar. Unbeknownst to the others, a Siren had set its gaze upon them.

 

[Nemesis]

"Acting as if it's yours to take."

As Raines tried to process the appearance of the first Knight, there was a sudden, blinding flash. A trio of machines had materialized, each standing slightly taller than fifteen meters tall, across the wreckage from the unidentified Mortar Headd - no, the Siren. As vapors poured off their forms into the void, the nearest of the three stepped forward, rolling its broad, dark shoulders as it did so.

​

It was a form known in all corners of the Jokerian galaxy, eschewing the garish colors of its brethren, its armor instead a deep, matte obsidian that seemed to absorb the light about it. The banner held by the hooded Mortar Headd to its right floated about, displaying nothing but a pitch black flag, while the one to its left held a long, imposing looking lance. At the lead Knight's gesture, it proffered the weapon, which was grasped by a waiting arm and dragged slowly before it, carving a semicircle across the Lunar surface.

Vatshu, the Black Knight.

"I see it's true what they say." Said the Black Knight, contempt dripping from every consonant like acrid tar that gnawed flesh from bone.

"When the cat is away... The mice will play."

Raines could feel the blood starting to freeze in his veins. Not one, but two of them! If all of Joker knew what took place here, in this solar system... His mind reeled at the potential consequences, only halted as a voice spoke into his helmet as he gasped aloud:

"Mortar Headds!"

"You know these guys?"

The Vatshu's head tilted up curiously at the sight of the three Valkyries. Almost casually, its escorts turned to face them. There was a glimmer across their armor, and Raines felt the panic rise in his chest, jerking the Valkyries' controls in desperation-

"No! Get back! They're-!"

Too late.

A barrage of anti-air fire erupted from the Barunja and Devoncha's armor, lasers, missiles, grenades and all other fashion of ordinance for eliminating unsightly intruders into matters of honor. The fusillade pierced the trio of Valkyries, detonating the two lead units instantly - and sending Raines into a tailspin towards the surface, plunging towards the ship's wreckage below. The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was the shattering of the cockpit as it fell into the darkness within, tinkling glass and the howl of vacuum-

And all he could think about was home.

---

"Direct hit, Sire!"

The two bodyguards lowered their smoking arms, looking at the Black Knight, who barely seemed to acknowledge the pyrotechnics that had just taken place. No, his eyes were on the Siren ahead - but he did, at least, offer a response.

"Were you expecting accolades?"

A shared glance of uncertainty was made between the two - but neither dared to speak. Eventually, the Vatshu's Liner continued, thinly, its toe nudging a chunk of debris out of the way.

"We are knights of renown. We do not kill for sport. Especially not uncivilized louts such as these."

Both dropped instantly to their knees, heads lowered in supplication.

"Yes, sire!"
"Please, forgive our insolence!"

"Enough."

The Vatshu waved away their display, and they returned to their standing positions, seemingly grateful to still have their heads. The Black Knight turned his attention fully on the Siren before him, letting the spear rest over his shoulder - but always, always - at the ready.

"This vessel is the property of the Empire. None shall lay claim to it but I."

 

[Kujo]

Juxtaposed against the cold grey void and the wanton destruction, genuine mirth erupted from the Siren. "Kahahaha... Oh this is rich." The ashen MH lowered its veil in front of it, the opposing chevrons of house Satron now evident. "Master Alkes?" The Headdliner sighed and composed himself, answering to his Fatima more than the other knights.

"Ah, forgive me," he said at length, "It's just- the Black knight playing janitor for the emperor?" Another chuckle came from Alkes as he continued, "Finally paying your dues for being a thorn in their side? Or are you planning on trading in that old fossil for a Mirage as thanks for cleaning up his litter?"

Digging the hefty speid out of the lunar dust, the Siren hefted it up over its shoulder laxly, though to the old knight it would be clear that its grip was ready for action.

"I mean really, if it's all the way out in this hole it can't be that important- flagship or not. So how's about you cut an exile a slice of that imperial pie; dorreys don't just fix themselves, you read me?"

 

[Nemesis]

"Bold words, churl."

Not one for debate, the Black Knight's words were practically ground out between grit teeth. He was nobody's lapdog, but Alkes seemed to know exactly the buttons to push. If he had been spoiling for a fight, well...

"Let us hope they fill you with as much courage going down, as they did coming up."

He would have it. The Vatshu's large, almost dome-like shield was leveled before it, and the thrusters on the rear of the Headd fluttered. Its eyes gleamed at its foe over the lip of the Veil, and it clutched its spear close.

"Let's go, Escharre. En garde."

The Black Knight lunged.

The Lunar surface shrieked as it surged forward in an instant, blindingly fast for something of its size. The Peidoll Spire ignited in its grip, a bright red spear of fury igniting into existence as it drove straight for the heart of the Siren, a flurry of strikes aimed to force the other knight onto the back foot - or at the very least, keep the Siren from bringing any of its own weaponry to bear.

The sheer force of this movement alone sent cracks running across the surface below, and the two MH in the rear noticeably crouched just a little lower, evidently having no intention of intervening themselves. Still, they watched intently - a chance to see their Lord in action at this range could not be missed, not even for an instant...

---

Crashed Jokerian Vessel
Mortar Headd Dorrey Bay

...Was he dead?

That was the first thought that occurred to Raines. No, his body didn't feel dead - nothing but the usual aches and pains one could expect from a rough landing. Headliners were made of sterner stuff, after all. Rather, there was a warmth...

A softness on his lips, fingers running through his hair.

And all of a sudden, Raines could breathe.

He bolted upright, gasping for air, as the figure that had been giving him CPR retracted slightly. Familiar lights and architecture surrounded him - the interior of a Dorreys hangar! But... How? His eyes began to focus, and took in the person now sitting across from him, her face still quite close to his own.

"Lord Raines."



Two eyes like pools of liquid azurite and flawless, pearlescent skin, deep, rich colors that flowed together with her dress of cream-colored wrappings bedecked with adornments of silver and platinum that jingled gently as her long, lilac-colored hair swayed in the artificial gravity. Her features were at once both soft, and yet pointed, yet almost devoid of that elongation that seemed to affect her kind so much.

What was it that they liked to say here, on Earth? "Should have sent a poet"?

"Who... are you?" He asked, dumbfounded.

The lavender haired woman smiled, warmly. Slowly, he sat up. The ground beneath rumbled as battle mas met outside, causing the interior of the bay to rattle precariously - but his savior didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were completely trained upon him. She rose - and her slender body dropped into an immaculate curtsy.

"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Niarchos... But feel free to call me Nia."

Her body was a dead giveaway, now that he had a chance to see it. Bereft of the unnecessary, lithe and powerful, tall and almost pointed - yet, there was something about her, the way in which she carried herself, a kind of coyness which led him to suspect more.

"A Fatima..." He said, at length, rising to his feet.

Nia nodded her head, and took his hands in hers. Another shock rippled underneath them, causing the lights to flicker overhead. Despite the looming crisis, it was as if this moment existed only for the two of them.

"Please pardon my excitement. It's just..." - She averted her gaze, a brilliant rouge flushing into her cheeks.

"I was born to meet you."

Now it was all starting to make sense.

Enkerr.

 

[Kujo]

"He's serious, Sir Alkes," alerted Aura, to which her master simply replied "You'll find serious people make serious mistakes. Now if you would arm the spaads."

Alkes smirked; if there was one thing he hated it was people who were "above" him, and luckily the Black Knight had just stooped to his level. A series of flashes emitted from the Siren's veil as its armaments fired a burst into the gray rock, not bothering to aim for the Black Knight but instead directly in its path.

A thick set of dust plumes quickly rose, though Vatshu nonetheless tore through; meanwhile, one of the Siren's spare spaads shot out from its veil and into a waiting hand, the energy blade igniting quickly as the Siren darted back from its opponent and offered a parrying blow at the beam of the Spire before activating its thrusters to lunge inside the large weapons range.

The Siren's veil swiveled about in an attempt to catch the solid end of the lance, meanwhile its right arm and speid remained upon its shoulder. 'Ezlasers may be weak in this system,' Alkes thought to himself, 'but being out here on this rock eases things up for us.'

"If you expected me to rust out here, you'd be sorely mistaken; I don't expect any different from you either, old man."

 

[Nemesis]

"Little shallow." Grunted the Black Knight as the Vatshu's spear met the gleaming blade of the Siren. Something felt... off about that last strike. Normally, it would have powered clean through the young man's tricks - but not this time. It was... sluggish. Weaker than what he was expecting. What was going on?

Both Mortar Headds were illuminated by the crackling and crashing of the two weapons. Rather than press his attack, the Vatshu sidestepped nimbly, sending a wave of material across the Lunar surface as it re positioned, circling around to Alkes' right, as well as any more unexpected surprises in the foe's Veil. Precious seconds ticked by as he waited for the inevitable assessment. She felt it, same as he did.

"The Ezlazer output isn't rising as fast as usual. Doesn't seem to be mechanical in nature."
"Now?"
"Compensating as best as I can, Master."

A low growl escaped the older man's lips as the Vatshu adusted its grip, one foot digging into the Lunar soil as it shifted its weight.

"Perfect."

How could the day possibly get any worse?

---

"...And that's pretty much how it happened."

Raines sat in cold contemplation, one hand over his mouth in thoughtful silence. His new "partner" had described her dramatic escape - plunging through the world of the Dragons in search of him, and the chaos that had unfolded in her wake as other Knights attempted to either restrain, or terminate her. Now there were other Knights here, on Earth - and very few of them likely to be his allies.

"Are you upset with me?"

Nia's watery eyes looked upon him, imploringly. They wanted forgiveness - but more importantly, honesty. His response was immediate.

"No." He said, flatly.

"This... is all my fault."

Another boom resounded through the hangar interior, and he grimaced. How much longer would it be before the already dilapidated hull collapsed? Would it be a mercy, he thought, if it caved in and crushed him to death where he stood? Or divine judgment, for abandoning his position?

"My negligence... Allowed this to happen." He said, solemnly.

"What's done is done. Now, I have to find a way to fix this... Before all of Joker is on our doorstep."

"Not alone, you won't."

At Nia's gesture, there was a hiss of compressed air as restraints were released, restrictive, preservative wrappings that had hastily been prepared now falling away from the colossal form that filled the back of the Dorrey. Curious beams of light, reflections, danced across the interior of the hangar... and Raines couldn't help but give a small smile at the familiar sight.

"Of course."

The old saying was true: You couldn't outrun destiny.

"I'll be counting on you... Nia."

---

"Judging by the other Mortar Headd's movements, the Headliner has already adapted to the situation."
"So it's affecting him as well?"
"We are at a disadvantage."
"A trap, then."

Of course. Nobody would have mouthed off to him like that without some sort of plan. Still, it was hardly his place to speculate on his foe's motives. The Black Knight only ever focused on one thing, and one alone: Winning over whatever foe was in front of him at that precise moment.

The spear snapped out like a serpent, practically bending with the force it was wielded - this time with more punch behind it at it stabbed straight at the foe's Veil - once, twice, thrice, aiming to pulverize it apart with repeated strikes, and force the Siren on the back foot. So long as he had the Spire, he could keep the foe at arm's length, at least until Escharre figured out what was going on.

As long as there weren't any unexpected develop-

Behind the Vatshu, the flank of the vessel exploded. The sheer force of the shockwave send a cascade of white across the battlefield, and cracks running under the feet of the combatants, chunks of burning metal and molten circuity hurtling in all directions as smaller detonations rocked the vessel's remains, fuel tanks igniting in a series of kaleidoscopic bursts of light and heat.

A figure moved amongst the devastation. One that gleamed, radiant, like a miniature sun. It strode through the fury slowly, purposefully towards them. Light danced off its aureate surfaces, molded to perfection, its tall, wide-crested head giving it a distinct silhouette, like a cardinal of some ancient, garish faith. An imposing, folded barrel jutted out from its back, unnaturally wrenched into a folding assembly that seemed both out of place, and yet wholly at home with the rest of its immaculate figure, as it fixed the two warriors in its crimson hued sights.



The signature Mortar Headd of the royal family, an object of revulsion and admiration that had never seen the battlefield, doomed it was said, to being little more than a museum piece. For a hundred years it had sat, mothballed, awaiting an owner that would never come, a symbol of excess, decadence, and wholly impractical design all across Joker.

How wrong they were.

The Destiny Mirage, or as it was better known, the Knight Of Gold, wreathed in the tempest, glared twin holes into the battling knights, one hand sliding threateningly to rest on the handle of one of its twin speids. Words, for the moment, did not seem to be necessary.

 

[Kujo]

The exile's smirk widened as Vatshu cut its offense short. He could almost see the other knight's confusion in the old Headd's stillness. 'Feeling it now, old man? I'm sure that MH is.'

Alkes readied himself for another maneuver as the Black Knight charged once more. 'Heh, keep pushing it like that and you'll be out of energy in no time.' Once more, Alkes pointed his spaad forward for a parry, but it was quickly joined by a second as the Siren's other spare ignited within the veil and thrust its blade out from behind the shield. Again the Siren swung at the Spire's tip but now with their glowing edges crossed to catch and push.

With his opponent's redoubled thrust, Alkes once more attempted to boost the Siren into the inside of the Peidol Spire's reach; the ashen MH finally lifted the speid off its shoulder to deliver a blow-

The immense flash caught Alkes off guard and he released the captured lance, darting back with intense thrust. Still ready for an attack, the Siren brought its veil back up to deflect shrapnel while the Headdliner observed just what had happened. Alkes could see the form of an MH striding out of the flames, the fire causing its silhouette to almost disappear among the light, but as it drew closer he saw it- The legendary Knight of Gold.

"Well I'll be damned," breathed Alkes. A short laugh escaped him, breaking up his awe. "I'm beginning to think this system really is where the empire puts things it doesn't want to be bothered by." Regaining composure, the exile stood the Siren back up from its defensive position. "Well, Black Knight, if this is what you were after maybe I'll just leave you to it. All the parts I wanted just went up in flames, and I think you and I both would rather continue this when you've got your 'legs'." The Siren seemed to leer at the golden MH for a moment before Alkes finished, saying, "And without company."

"Aura, engage transport." A faint light began to emanate from the Siren as its ezlaser wound up, visibly preparing to warp out of combat.

 

[Nemesis]

"Wait, cur! Nrgh-!"

A flash of scarlet - and the Black Knight was sent sliding back across the Lunar surface, the Siren's sword having sliced a gash down its front. Between the sudden appearance of the golden Mortar Headd, the man's words, and the Vatshu's engine troubles, it was all the Black Knight could do to hold himself back as the foe made to disappear - and vanished, in the blink of an eye. The cracked Spire was slammed home into the dirt below, and ground deep, as if it were being pressed into Alkes' own heart.

"Coward!" Spat the Black Knight in disgust - but before he gave any further consideration to the outlaw, there was a new problem to deal with. Slowly, the black Mortar Headd turned, and regarded the gleaming terror.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Escharre.?"
"Unmistakeable. That is, without a doubt, the Knight of Gold."
"Who's the Liner? It can't be that runaway Fatima."

At length, the silence was broken as the Knight of Gold hailed the Vatshu - and a familiar face flashed on the older knight's screen... One he had thought he'd never see again.

"Sir Trinn Roquefort." Said Raines, giving a warm smile.

"It's been a long time."

There was a long, long pause... but eventually, the Black Knight chuckled. He reached up, undoing the clasps on his signature dark, featureless helmet, and shook his head free. His features were gray and wizened, yet sharp and keen, like a bird of prey. Reaching into his pocket, he replaced the glasses he usually wore, if only to get a better look at Raines with his own two eyes.

"Well I'll be damned." He breathed.



"Prince Raines... You're alive...!"

It felt like just yesterday he had been brought in to teach the young man how to fence. How to fight, alongside the best duelists in the kingdom. While he'd never been one to be eager about the subject... It was hard to name a student of his that had picked up the material so effortlessly. So it was that when word of his death had reached the Black Knight's ears... his sorrow at such a sudden passing, depriving Joker of its future, had been broad... and deep.

"It's... a long story." Said the young man, wearily. The amount of explaining he was going to have to do was already starting to make him regret his decision. If Roquefort was here, then...

The Knight of Gold's head turned towards the two in the rear. He could feel a pair of eyes on him from within them. Familiar ones, watching him, judging him. He only prayed it was wrong.

"Won't you lay down your arms? As venerable as your sword-arm is, I have no desire to test it."

"I'm afraid I cannot. I am, after all, no longer your subject."

The Vatshu removed the Spire from the terrain, swinging the weapon back over its shoulder... But stood its ground. The Knight of Gold's grip closed on one of its own blades - but for the moment, neither dared to move. A slow, electric tension was building in the air.

"Much has changed in your absence. There is a new order. A new Emperor. One whose dictates brook no dissent, and who rules Joker with a cold, steel fist."

"A new... Emperor?"

Raines blinked in surprise, unable to conceal the shock in his voice as he spoke:

"Who?"

 

[Nemesis]

February 8th, 2880
AKD Capital City, Delta Belune, East Joker System
12:00



One by one, the roar of the Flame Launchers stopped. Aux Regnair, no matter how many times he experienced it, always feared this moment. The howl of the weapon was like a dragon's breath, purging, cleansing fire that washed away the sins of the world. Whatever it touched disappeared, whether it be man, machine, or monster. Even so...

It was always the deathly silence that followed that perturbed him. On his flanks, he could see his fellows, their own LEDs heads turning left and right, scanning the horizon for more foes. Never before had these weapons been deployed in the heart of the Empire... and he hoped that they never would again. The sight of other LEDs before them, ground into nothing but charred remains, those who had once been their comrades, sent a chill up his spine. If his finger had been but a moment slower-

His thoughts, thankfully, were interrupted by a broadcast. The show was about to begin, and he permitted himself a moment's rest, allowing the voice of reason to speak.



"People of Joker, hear my words."

A voice of authority. Proud, full, and wise, spoke to the people of the belabored star system.

"How long has it been since the Sovereign abandoned us?

Who could forget that fateful day, when He disappeared from the world, and all was shrouded in darkness? When Divers went blind with tears of blood, and mad prophets cried of death and destruction, foretelling the end of our race, our history, our very way of life?

Now, the product of the Sovereign's foolishness has turned the guardians of our realm against us! Every day, the Dragons grow bolder, more of our proud knights lie slain - and yet some still pray, begging, even on the brink of death, for their savior to return!

He will not.

Waste not your words, nor your prayers, for they fall on deaf ears."

The man paced within the halls of the Float Temple. Its floors were now slick with blood, and he deigned not to touch it, leaving it instead to the cowled, animal-masked figures of the Mirage Knights to wade through. He was careful not to show the gorey remains of the former occupants - one could hardly afford a PR disaster at this delicate stage.

"There is no more need to fear. Fate has not abandoned us.

Providence itself has seen fit to intervene on your behalf. As of this moment... I, and the finest of our Knights, have assumed control of the Float Temple, and with it, the Empire itself. The cancer, the weakness that infested our nation has been cut out."

The man's pacing stopped, coming to a halt near an arc that showed the glowing, fiery sky. Pause for effect, he thought, and then... Right on time, the Mortar Headd loomed into view, its colossal, silvery countenance like a radiant savior. No, the Machine Messiah. Framed dramatically against the ruin of battle, the Auge looked every bit the symbol he had known it would be.

"This... Is not a rebellion.
It is not an insurrection.

It is a return to order.

Civility.

Peace.​

No careless, thoughtless deity am I, unknown and abrasive to the worries and frailties of the flesh - but a simple, mortal man, wrought the same as you. The time for worship at the altar of false Gods has passed, for there shall be no salvation, and no retribution no matter how low you bend and scrape."

As he settled in on the once radiant throne, the Ruler brought the camera's focus back upon himself. It was important, as he knew, to finish strong with these things.

"But... Under my guiding hand, Joker will regain its former glory. All I ask for in return... Is your trust, and loyalty.

Rejoice! The Age of the Sun King is over! From its carcass, the Empire of Man rises!"​

Outside, as if on cue, the Mirage Knights raised their Speids as one, and he heard their voices cry out in unison.

"The Emperor is dead!
LONG LIVE EMPEROR MATEUS!"
​

As the feed faded, the man who would be Emperor basked in the adulation of his underlings. His eyes momentarily caught sight of two wretched, craven forms watching his speech from the sidelines, the tall, dark one and the short, deathly looking one - but he paid them no heed. This was his moment of triumph, after all... Far be it from he to allow their rank stench to befoul it.