Furion hovered closer to those windows; it was eerie beyond measure how the ship continued to gently glide through those Kitezan skies with no one at the helm.  He pressed his hands against that thick, weathered glass, and tried to find anywhere at all that he could see inside through.  It took a moment, but there, on the far left side of the row, he finally spied within.


    It was as near to what Furion could imagine a blender for human bodies would look like.  Parts – and piece of parts – were scattered all over the deck.  The ship’s commander - lower body still in his seat – was, quite literally, sitting beside himself.


    And then he saw movement; feet turning to walk away in the dark, just out of sight of the ethereal haze that his solid-light wings created.  Furion’s eyes went wide behind his helmet’s protective mask.  He quickly pushed away from the hull and lifted a hand to his left ear, “Guys, I don’t know what you’re going to find in there, but it’s not looking good so far.”


    “We’re already in the hangar, sir.” One of the men answered; behind them, the bay doors had been torn apart to give them access.  The Magistrate’s docked war-machine – with its missing left forearm and the blood still sticky on its right – loomed ominously at the head of the room.  All of them looked at those darkened streaks on the metal with dubious worry.


    “Donivan, take point.  Ravan and Corbin, watch his back.” Furion continued, “Something – or someone - has literally ripped apart the command crew; the ship is getting by on auto-pilot, near as I can tell.  Stay on full alert and be cautious, but find Seth and the others now.  No sight-seeing.  I’m going in through to top; I’ll meet you there.”


    “Yessir!” All three answered.


    Donivan Parker – also known by his rank; Wing Commander Two – withdrew his blades; stored like gun-holsters on his hips, and with a click, they expanded into laser-edged Falchions.  They hummed quietly, and he took one last long floating-jump to cross the breadth of the launch-deck and get to the nearest entrance into the vessel proper.  Ravan and Corbin followed closely after with their own weapons drawn – Ravan with closely-held kukris and Corbin with a katana and wakizashi - and all three turned off the aesthetics of their wings as they passed through.


    High above, Furion also drew his blades - shaped like broadswords – and drew in a sharp breath.  With a quick advance, and a wide slash from both weapons, he crashed straight-through the glass.  The bridge became a storm of shards and cold winds, and Furion finally got his first good look around the space.  There were at least seven victims – or at least, heads – around the deck; flight staff, navigation, the commander, communications, and perhaps the first mate.  Wings were shut-down and Furion made for the exit, chasing after the bloody footprints left on the floor.


    Of the 60-or-so staff on that flagship, a quarter of them had already fallen.  With no communications officer sending out orders, those who remained were confused and corralled.  Several tried to use the elevator to get down to the hangar and its escape-pods, but every click was met with an error-noise, and the chamber’s auto-announcer repeated the same message, “Unable to comply.  Hangar has decompressed.  Unable to comply.  Hangar has decompressed.”


    “What the Hell is going on!?” Was the question on everyone’s minds.


    “There’s another set of escape-pods on the weather deck,” One of them said, and clicked for the level below the bridge.  To their relief, the elevator accepted the request, and the doors slid closed.


    They would soon wish it hadn’t.


    Several floors up, others were fleeing for their lives already, scrambling down stairwells when the elevators wouldn’t come up fast enough.  Panic was setting in.  Rumors were starting to spread from those who had escaped the onslaught to those who were ignorant of it.


    “There’s a devil on the upper decks!  It killed the entire bridge crew!”


    “No, that can’t be right!  It’s the Fafnir!  I saw them breaking into the hangar!  There must be more coming in through the top!”


    “This wasn’t a bloody Fafnir!”


    “Where is the Magistrate!?”


    The elevator made a tragically futile stop at every floor on its ascent, and each time, those who were trapped outside frantically tried to get inside.  Half of them had no idea what was going on still, and could only assume the need to evacuate because of the fire-alarms themselves.  Those who remained oblivious took one look within that cramped carriage and abandoned it for the stairs.  Things got even more confusing when those from higher up were going the opposite direction.


    Finally, however, the elevator arrived on that requested floor, and unlike every other opening, the parting of those doors was met with…emptiness.  A dark hall lead out to a darker main deck, with only the occasional red pulse illuminating the way from the emergency lights.  Those who were pressed right up against the open gateway were suddenly hesitant to get out, but were unceremoniously shoved by those cramped further inside who were desperate for space and air.


    At the far end of the corridor, where the stairwell from the bridge-level emptied out onto the weather-deck, the sinister shape of a man appeared – alone, and in no hurry like everyone else had been.  The red haze from the rotating hall-lights illuminated the figure in slow passes, and as that pale white face - and its unnaturally oozing eyes – came into better view…the claustrophobic group started to panic.  The ones who’d been shoved out desperately clambered to get back in, and those who were still inside it hit the close-door button like it wouldn’t work without 20 reminders.  Error messages flooded the space as the door repeatedly tried to slide across but couldn’t for the fighting of bodies trying to get in as others shoved them back out.


    Scyrexianori continued that haunting advance, and reached his right arm and hand forward, fingers extended; seeking.  Those who had given up trying to get onto the carriage fled into the opposite halls, trying to find some other way out.  Those stuck inside were regretting their choices.  Scyrexianori clawed at them like fish in a waterless barrel, until only one remained, and he grabbed that one by the throat, lifting him up against the rear wall until his feet dangled, “I’m looking for one of the men who was brought here with me.  He has the sight.  Where is he?”


    The soldier coughed and gasped, grabbing at that unnaturally powerful arm, “Br-brig…  Down b-below…”


    “What floor?”


    “S-sub-basement…” The terrified man choked, and pulled for a breath, “Sub-basement 2A…above…the hangar…”


    Scyrexianori dropped him, and for a mercy, gave the guard a chance to scramble out from underfoot - and leave the elevator - as those now-clawed fingers scanned the panel for the right level.  With the button clicked, the doors shuddered in their attempt to start closing.  Those coagulated eyes looked up just in time to see the Captain of the Fafnir Knights come into view at the end of the hall, having followed him down those same stairs.  The door was closing now though, and Scyrexianori turned to face the figure…and brought a finger up to his lips, “Shh.”


    Furion gaped, but no matter how fast he was, it wasn’t enough to get to that elevator before the panels shut in his face, “…What the Hell was that?  Was it…Ianori?”  He took a few steps back and looked at the floor-indicator above the doorframe, seeing each lower number illuminate as it went down.  A nervous flutter went through his chest, and he reached up to the left side of his helmet again, “Heads up, I think a bogey is coming straight for you.”


    “A bogey?” Ravan answered, and looked to her fellows in confusion.


    “It might be Ianori, but he’s…changed.  Dramatically.  He looks possessed, and I think he’s the reason everyone I’ve encountered so far looks like they’ve been put through a food processor.” Furion answered, “He’s coming down the elevator.”


    A loud bang suddenly could be heard from the end of an adjacent hall.  Their Captain’s last words described something unheard of, but they couldn’t even stop to imagine his meaning before another bang sounded, and another.  Immediately thinking that it might be Ianori himself, they rushed to the source of the sound.  Corbin passed in front of the mouth of a stairwell, and Ravan stayed behind the former corner; Donivan went out front, the blade in his right hand staying where it was as the left was sheathed and put back on his hip.  The stairs went up five steps before making the first half of a U-turn where it would normally continue up to the next level, but was barred by a locked emergency door.


    Bang…bang bang… Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The hollow echo of that metallic clanging reverberated through the corridor.  Corbin and Ravan both put a blade away and readied the pulsar-rifles on the back of their forearms instead.  Donivan looked back at them briefly, nodded, and reached his free hand towards the ‘manual release’ button on the right side of the doorway.


    BANG!!


    He tapped the pulsing red button, and it flashed green, releasing the door and revealing…a rather irate Magistrate.


    “Fafnir!?” He barked in a rage.


    One laser-edged blade was at his throat, and Donivan glowered from behind his face-plate, “You’ll want to think very had about the next words that come out of your mouth, Laurier.”


    The judge just sneered behind a stiff smirk, hands out to the side; he could feel the tingle of the plasma against his skin, “Well now…if it isn’t one of the King’s Men.  How is the old man doing these days anyway?”


    “Happily retired and living the good life.” He answered, “Where are our people?”


    Ravan and Corbin had both come out from behind their corners with their weaponized vambraces at the ready, and they listened carefully.  Ravan’s left hand was free, and she reached up to send the message, “Captain, we found the Magistrate.  You’ll never guess who it is.”


    Furion paused where he stood, staring down the empty shaft where the elevator had once descended; he’d ripped his way through the door to get in, “Doesn’t matter.  Make him take you to Seth.” He ordered, and took a step out into that vertical space.  The metallic arm-like appendages sticking out the back of his shoulders – where the solid-light wings would manifest from – glowed lightly at their junction-line, and allowed him to softly hover downward.


    Corbin tilted his head slightly towards his cohort, and smiled warily, “You know you don’t have to actually activate anything to speak to the team, right?  Touching the side of your helmet is so old-school.”


    “Ssht.  I like doing it…and so does the Captain.” She puffed, and stepped out into the open, now speaking on the external channel so the Magistrate could hear her, “The Rydells send their regards.  Where’s this ship’s detainment bloc?”


    Regulus just chuffed a mocking breath, “What would be the point of telling you?”


    “I’ll take your ear clean off and finish what Captain Lequerion started if you don’t.” Donivan threatened, and turned the blade over to lift its edge underneath the man’s jawline, “I somehow doubt he’d mind a souvenir as grim as this.  He might even think it funny.”


    He just grit his teeth defiantly.


    Furion found the top of the elevator sooner than he expected; the labels on the inner walls of the shaft told him it had stopped on a floor above the hangar for some reason.  He touched his toes down to the top of the carriage and listened for anything going on inside it; hearing nothing, he jumped up slightly…and came down again with such force that it jettisoned the elevator out of its stop-locks and sent it careening down to the last floor below it with a violent crash.  In so doing, he revealed the open doorway to Sub-basement 2A, and quickly hovered down towards it, stepping gingerly back to the ground as he regained his bearings.


    The trio of Fafnir on the lower level looked around warily as they heard, and felt, the impact.  Even Seth stumbled slightly for how close the collision was to the holding cells.  Regulus stared onward intensely, daring the Knight to do literally anything to him…and called the man’s bluff.


    Donivan scoffed in frustration, “Corbin, detain him.  Ravan, with me.”


    “Yessir!”


    Corbin caught the Magistrate as the Wing Commander’s shove sent him stumbling forward, and the two Fafnir went up through the other half of the stairwell’s U-turn to the next floor.  At the top of the ascent, they were greeted with the most convenient of walls; it boasted a sign, explaining what was on what floor, and where they were standing for context.  Ravan scanned it quickly, and pointed down the left corridor.


    “So, where’s the rest of your crew anyway?” Corbin wondered, the wakizashi pressed against the judge’s throat, “Alarms are going off, and you seem to be the only one trying to come down this way.”


    Regulus was as silent as the grave though, and reveled in the Fafnir’s frustration.


    Those bloody footprints had started to fade, as most of the blood had already been left on the floor on the way down.  But, what few specks were left created a clear path; the entity was heading for the brig.  Furion picked up his pace; he passed the morgue on his left, and finally, the detainment room, further down and on the right.  His worry had gotten the better of him, and he didn’t bother to check the corner before he barged in; what he found deepened his concern.


    Scyrexianori stood in front of the first cell; fingers pawing at the frame in an effort to find a way through.  Those bubbling, empty eyes looked his way in surprise, but then, familiarity, “Ah…Captain.”


    “…Ianori…?” The man asked skeptically, “Seth?” He asked louder.


    “Furion!” He answered quickly, and ran up to pound on the inside of the metal door, “Get us out of here!  Miss Ren and Mr. Gabriel need help!”


    It occurred to the Fafnir that his kid brother had no idea what was stalking outside the room, “…Hang on a minute.  We’ve got company.”


    Ravan and Donivan finally caught up, seeing their Captain at the end of the long hall where they’d arrived from the other direction.  They took two steps closer before stopping, as they witnessed their commanding officer shoved back from the doorway with such speed that he bounced off the wall behind himself and collapsed to his knees in surprise, “CAPTAIN!!”


    Scyrexianori just sneered down at the man, hands still ahead of himself from the battering-ram he’d turned them into.  He grabbed the blade-hilt that Furion had dropped from the impact, and looked at the curious edge, then at the sealed metal door.  With a quick stab, the blade’s tip touched to the cold steel, and was shimmied into the thin gap between panel and frame.  It fizzled and sparked, resisting the press as Scyrexianori shoved it cruelly through.


    Seth backed up with a start as he saw the light come through, “…Furion…?”  The edge had nearly grazed him for how recklessly it had been thrust.


    “GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” Donivan’s voice yelled; Seth was certain the command was for him, and he ducked all the way to the back corner where Gabriel and Ren still lay prone and unconscious from their injuries.  The conundrum was the sound of a brawl taking place beyond his sights.  The loud banging continued for what felt like forever…but then finally ended with the sound of the second cell-door being pried open.


    Seth beheld, in horror, as the image of a man who was once his friend, was shoved so hard into the room next-door that he collapsed to the floor and slid with a clang to the back wall.  The fact that he could see it though – through the hole Gabriel had made before – was enough to put him into a panic, especially when he heard that telltale sound of the door’s panel confirming it had locked, and Scyrexianori lifted his head.  Those coagulated, bloated tendrils of oily-bloody ink flared, and veins of red fire coursed through them; Scyrexianori looked directly at him…and started moving towards the gap menacingly.  Seth screamed and rushed for the door again, banging loudly, “GET US OUT OF HERE GET US OUT FURION THE ROOMS ARE CONNECTED GET US OUT!!”


    All three Fafnir were shocked, and Furion went for the door’s control panel.  It was an easy enough thing to figure out how to get the lock to release, but getting it to open when his plasma-blade had been used to try and get through it by force was another thing entirely.  With his brother’s panic increasing with every passing second, Furion yanked the blade out, threw it aside, snatched Ravan’s kukri right out of her hand, jammed it into the space his sword had once occupied, and used it to safely release the lock without the chance of stabbing his brother in the process.  When the door finally gave and Furion could pull it open, Donivan was in first, and hit the terrifying entity hard enough to make that horned head bounce off the floor with a nauseating crack.  That seemed to be enough to end things for the moment, and Furion went in as well, crouching down as his brother came rushing at him with arms extended.  Seth clung to that white and gold armor like he’d never seen anything with such appreciation before, and Furion hugged him back.  Ravan recovered their discarded weaponry while she kept an eye out.


    It didn’t escape Furion’s notice that Seth’s clothing was saturated with blood, nor that said blood came from Seth’s own flesh.  Past the teen’s shoulder though, he spotted the slumped-over bodies of their two other targets; his heart sank.  He pulled back and looked up at the blonde, “Let’s get the Hell out of here.  Ravan!”


    “Sir!” She came in, and Donivan went closer to the door to make sure it stayed open.


    “Take Seth and get out of here.  Donivan, grab Sir Gabriel.” Furion ordered, and let his brother go to be hefted-up by the Knight.  He lurched forward to carefully grab Ren in his own arms, and lifted her out of the way so the Wing Commander could grab the final body.


    “What about Ianori?” Donivan wondered, looking at the downed figure hanging halfway between the rooms.


    Furion looked down briefly, but when he saw that Scyrexianori was starting to recover, he shook his head, “We can’t risk taking him back in whatever the fuck state that is.  We’ll seal the room and negotiate for his release later.  Move out!”


    “Sir!” He affirmed, and immediately went to a knee to grab the unconscious mediator.  As he carefully stepped out after his Captain, he turned to shove the door closed again with a foot.  Furion leaned slightly back so Ren would tilt against his shoulder, and used a free arm to blast the gap in the door a few times, effectively welding it shut.


    That all done, the last two Fafnir dipped.


    Ravan followed their original path down through the corridor and the U-turn stairwell.  As she found and passed Corin, she barked at him to abandon his post with the Magistrate and make a break for it.  Corbin followed after her immediately, leaving the defiant judge to collapse against the wall from the shove.  Donivan and Furion followed after her – and Furion caught a fleeting glimpse of the man in that microsecond it took to pass him by.  Out through the last exit, Donivan guided his commander towards the hole that they’d torn through the docking-bay door, and in a flash…all four were finally outside, with wings bursting back into sight as they took off high into the night sky.


    Gabriel could feel himself starting to come-to, but his head swam too thickly to do anything but see directly above.  He couldn’t even feel how cold the air was, nor the sting of that altitude.  He somehow knew he was high up, but his mind was too clouded and sedate from the blood-loss to process it, and he just closed his eyes again, and slipped back into oblivion.


    That couldn’t just be the end of it though.  Regulus clambered for the ladder to get up into his mecha, and as quickly as he could get himself linked to his neuroptics, he commanded the metal behemoth to ram through the retractable hangar door.  The Fafnir were already a good distance away, but Regulus took aim with that one remaining big arm, the ‘palm’ lighting-up quickly.  He shot off an array of energy-pulses, each one trailing the fleeing Knights like a missile…but each was futile in its pursuit.  There was too much distance…and all Regulus could do was sneer at their escape.


    He now had other problems to deal with…and most of them, he wasn’t even aware of yet.