Heart gold pokedex | | Pokemon Heart Gold and Soul Silver

For a little background: I'm not a VFX person, but I do know a bit about the insane process regarding clients and vendors and... all that. My heart goes out to every single artist in that pipeline who has to deal with seemingly arbitrary changes only for the work to get torn apart by people who don't understand it when it comes out.
So, for professionals who know the tools, who probably have some idea of what goes on behind-the-scenes in the shows, can probably, even if they didn't directly work on the show, hazard a guess as to reasons for things (and whom DEFINITELY have more of an ability to see those things than I could) -- I have a couple of questions concerning the Marvel series She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, from 2022.
I know they used something like four different vendors to bring to life the She-Hulk character assets; even before the VFX breakdowns were posted online, somebody in the know pointed out to me which ones Weta did, for example. I know the methods of motion/performance capture for the character differed between inertial and (I can't remember the other one's name, please forgive me), sometimes between sequence to sequence, whether exterior or interior. I know they had a stand-in whose work, despite what was said in the press, was apparently deemed unusable by the actual animators as reference once it got to that point, and I know at least one VFX source complained the main show director wasn't listening to the on-set VFX supe in how best to create an effect, etc.; said VFX supe won an Oscar for Dune.
Having said those things, the quality is remarkably high, although the most criticised VFX work was done by Digital Domain and TRIXTR on the show -- the Weta sequences (despite my source telling me they were brought on to one sequence almost at the last minute as added work) were generally the highest-quality, had the best facial animation capture, skin texture, etc. (From what I could see, Digital Domain's best sequence was the one in the retreat episode.) I know assets were shared -- I also know DD had a harder time trying to keep up with the main actress's performance than Weta did, as it's a bit more complex than their previous gold-stand of Josh Brolin's Thanos.
Would big differences be down to clients jerking vendors around to an extent that one sequence by one vendor doesn' match another vendor's, or is it down to the tech used? Do you feel actors in mocap are generally as informed as they should be about how best to perform in motion/performance-capture settings? And, this seems to be a common thing, why shave down the motions and energy of a mocap actor's performance in post, when they could just as easily tell the actor to dial it down before filming and thus not have to adjust movements so much even as opposed to the size of the assets they're being transferred to?
Is there something that could be done to make the process a bit smoother? (Yes, pre-planning is a no-brainer.) Do VFX supes need more control over their sets on shows, in order to keep down costs and raise the standard of excellence? Do actors need to be told a bit more on how animators actually modify their performances, and how they can best work with that knowledge?
I know it's a lot all tumbling out, but it's just a bunch of questions and thoughts that have been on my mind. I felt only a bunch of experts in the art could inform me of any possible answers. :-) I'm just gonna listen to y'all with open ears.

GENESIS 1:2 (Holy Spirit 1st Appearance)
2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
GENESIS 1:26 (God Speaks 2 Holy Spirit)
26 Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”
PROVERBS 8:22-31 (Holy Spirit Recounts Time Spent With God + Genesis)
22 “The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; 23 I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be. 24 When there were no watery depths, I was given birth, when there were no springs overflowing with water; 25 before the mountains were settled in place, before the hills, I was given birth, 26 before he made the world or its fields or any of the dust of the earth. 27 I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep, 28 when he established the clouds above and fixed securely the fountains of the deep, 29 when he gave the sea its boundary so the waters would not overstep his command, and when he marked out the foundations of the earth. 30 Then I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, 31 rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind.
PROVERBS 8:32-36 (Holy Spirit = Life)
32 “Now then, my children, listen to me; blessed are those who keep my ways. 33 Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it. 34 Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway. 35 For those who find me find life and receive favor from the Lord. 36 But those who fail to find me harm themselves; all who hate me love death.”
JOHN 1:4 (Holy Spirit = Life)
4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
PROVERBS 8:1-21 (Holy Spirit = Wisdom)
Wisdom's Call
1 Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? 2 At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; 3 beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud: 4 “To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. 5 You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. 6 Listen, for I have trustworthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right. 7 My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. 8 All the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse. 9 To the discerning all of them are right; they are upright to those who have found knowledge. 10 Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, 11 for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her. 12 “I, wisdom, dwell together with prudence; I possess knowledge and discretion. 13 To fear the Lord is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech. 14 Counsel and sound judgment are mine; I have insight, I have power. 15 By me kings reign and rulers issue decrees that are just; 16 by me princes govern, and nobles—all who rule on earth. 17 I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me. 18 With me are riches and honor, enduring wealth and prosperity. 19 My fruit is better than fine gold; what I yield surpasses choice silver. 20 I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice, 21 bestowing a rich inheritance on those who love me and making their treasuries full.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

GENESIS 1:2 (Holy Spirit 1st Appearance)
2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
GENESIS 1:26 (God Speaks 2 Holy Spirit)
26 Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”
PROVERBS 8:22-31 (Holy Spirit Recounts Time Spent With God + Genesis)
22 “The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; 23 I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be. 24 When there were no watery depths, I was given birth, when there were no springs overflowing with water; 25 before the mountains were settled in place, before the hills, I was given birth, 26 before he made the world or its fields or any of the dust of the earth. 27 I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep, 28 when he established the clouds above and fixed securely the fountains of the deep, 29 when he gave the sea its boundary so the waters would not overstep his command, and when he marked out the foundations of the earth. 30 Then I was constantly at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, 31 rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind.
PROVERBS 8:32-36 (Holy Spirit = Life)
32 “Now then, my children, listen to me; blessed are those who keep my ways. 33 Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it. 34 Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway. 35 For those who find me find life and receive favor from the Lord. 36 But those who fail to find me harm themselves; all who hate me love death.”
JOHN 1:4 (Holy Spirit = Life)
4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
PROVERBS 8:1-21 (Holy Spirit = Wisdom)
Wisdom's Call
1 Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? 2 At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; 3 beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud: 4 “To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. 5 You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. 6 Listen, for I have trustworthy things to say; I open my lips to speak what is right. 7 My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness. 8 All the words of my mouth are just; none of them is crooked or perverse. 9 To the discerning all of them are right; they are upright to those who have found knowledge. 10 Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, 11 for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her. 12 “I, wisdom, dwell together with prudence; I possess knowledge and discretion. 13 To fear the Lord is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech. 14 Counsel and sound judgment are mine; I have insight, I have power. 15 By me kings reign and rulers issue decrees that are just; 16 by me princes govern, and nobles—all who rule on earth. 17 I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me. 18 With me are riches and honor, enduring wealth and prosperity. 19 My fruit is better than fine gold; what I yield surpasses choice silver. 20 I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice, 21 bestowing a rich inheritance on those who love me and making their treasuries full.

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

Platform(s): PC
Genre: 2D Shooter
Estimated year of release: 2010+
Graphics/art style: Kind of like metalslug style graphics
Notable characters: Main character is a guy that is heavy top, one of the boss levels is a maiden with the heart of gold, she actually has a heart made of gold(This level was based in a meat pie factory which used human parts as the meat for the pies). An orphan girl called the main character "something" daddy.
Notable gameplay mechanics: Shoot enemies, get upgrade/new weapons, enter boss level.
Other details:N/A

First Previous Wiki
A group of Sprilnav had entered the room, dragged claws bearing paint across Kashaunta and Penny's faces, and left again. Another group of Sprilnav, this time Elders, had entered the room, leading to a hologram forming around Penny and Kashaunta to hide their faces behind perfect masks.
They carried a long black box on their shoulders. Kashaunta approached their kneeling forms, unlatching the box with her claws. Special sounds chimed from electronic locks, and the box flipped open, revealing a new Soul Blade. It was Azeri's Soul Blade, or the one he'd once owned at least. Given the new information Penny had on them, the sword wasn't truly 'his' in a literal sense.
They had then moved to a more central room on the flagship, complete with a massive kitchen, bedroom, and entertainment room. Kashaunta's quarters were lavish, though they were not as flush with finery and gold as Penny would have expected.
Penny wore Kashaunta's Soul Blade on her hip. The ancient weapon didn't seem to have the mind-altering effects the last one did. But it was beyond powerful, for sure. It also came with a stealth coating that could be activated to hide its presence.
Azeri's Soul Blade, on the other hand, definitely affected her.
Penny could hear the faint sounds of distant voices echoing in her thoughts. She could sense Cardi and Nilnacrawla in her mind more clearly as if she'd finally put on a set of glasses after not having them her entire life. So many things were clearer now, but so many weren't. Kashaunta had made a sacred agreement with her, at least in Sprilnav culture.
Backed by the Progenitors. All of them, apparently. And they were all sworn to silence, which Nilnacrawla and Kashaunta assured her would also include Twilight and Nova. She could understand that, but Nova's actions toward Penny in the past made her wary of relying on him for anything related to her safety.
And it was before the Judgment, now in nine days. Kashaunta's VIs had gathered the data, ordered it, and formulated responses. She'd designed them to sound like real people and real things that would be said, not just decent scripts with odd lexicon and grammatical habits.
"So," Penny said, looking at Kashaunta relaxing beside her. The Elder's carefree stance didn't fool Penny as to what had just happened. It had looked rushed, but she knew there was a larger purpose behind it than she believed. "The Pact. Were you truly this desperate to regain my trust?"
"I was," Kashaunta admitted. "And am. I have a tendency to manipulate people around me. This has made me good at being able to tell when a relationship is falling apart. Were I not to do something this extreme, we would have continued to fall apart, and eventually the rift would have been too large for even this to bridge.
I do not expect forgiveness or for you to understand my viewpoint and ideas. I have destroyed nations and entire civilizations. I have spent my fair share of time in evil, and use the threat of who I was and who I am against those who slight me. Reputation is important among our species, more so than anything but power. But they are linked.
A reputation of weakness will never exist with a person of strength. If it develops, the Elders will pile onto that unfortunate soul to plunder the riches they believe can no longer be protected. And once you fall, it is impossible to rise again. We do need each other, Penny. Perhaps you do not agree, yet, but this goes beyond the Judgment."
Penny wanted to argue. She wanted to listen to the voices demanding her hatred of the Elder before her- wait, what?
Penny frowned. She focused on them, and they appeared. A cacophony of voices, all Sprilnav in origin. They were definitely here and worryingly a part of her psychic energy. It almost seemed like they were the voices of those she'd freed. Which wouldn't make sense unless... her title was actually bearing conceptual power.
She supposed that it was possible then.
"Kashaunta," Penny said.
"Yes?"
"Why do you have faith in me, when, as you say, so many others have failed?"
"Because you possess Cardinality. You possess Humanity. You even have a Progenitor Title, though it is only a budding one. Your approach to this, besides a few mistakes on our part, is remarkably sound. You have moved away from hatred of the Sprilnav to that of Elders. And you have moved away from hatred of Elders and Progenitors to that of certain Elders and Progenitors, which I understand.
Ultimately, you have me convinced that you do not want to carry out a war of vengeance against me and my kin for the actions we did before your species had a name. I know it is difficult to overcome hatred, and more so with a voice in your head telling you to distrust all we Elders say and do. And I believe you can convince the Alliance to restrict its war to methods that are not as destructive."
Penny thought it was odd how much Kashaunta was stressing it. Either the Alliance wasn't considered a threat to the Sprilnav or it was. Kashaunta seemed to suggest it was, perhaps, to flatter Penny somehow. She didn't exactly buy it but would let it play out.
It would be important for Penny to learn more about the Elder's viewpoint before the Judgment to exploit it among other Elders to help win the Judgment. She'd have to portray herself and the Alliance as weak, which meant learning more about Sprilnav technology and power. The briefings from the last meetings before the previous Judgment had been enlightening on that front. But Penny wanted the best shot she could have on this.
"Such as?"
"Culture war."
"That has a certain meaning among my species," Penny said. "I am not sure if it translates correctly."
"I want your Alliance to begin to turn the population against slavery. Just that. Go no further. If you do that, the Elders will fight back. This will escalate, and the list of grievances will grow. We will have rebellions, and they can win with my help."
"And what comes next?"
"I take power, of course. I do not purge the Sprilnav who rose to the top, but reward them. I bind them by respect and loyalty instead of fear and hatred. Objectively, it will be better to have a single unified state than a disparate mess of warring territories. Quality of life, quality of death, and everything in between. We can go further, if you like.
Turning the Collective into literal heaven for those who die, where they can return to real bodies as often as they want for free. I can extend this to other species and, over thousands of years, wear away the animosity between the Sprilnav and the rest of the galaxy. I distribute gifts, I lower taxes, and use android labor to replace slavery entirely. Would you not agree that this is better?"
"I am not sure. How would you maintain the state, when threats come from within and without?"
"Limits on power, separation of branches of government. Police forces, military forces. We have police trained to de-escalate situations, even when they are armed with riot shields or actual guns. There will obviously be some requirement for state violence, but I will lower it as far as possible."
"There will be those who wish to be independent."
"And they can be."
"You are not concerned about that?" Penny asked.
"With even just the Autonomous Peoples' Stars, independence is risky. Dangerous. People do not start those movements because if they succeed, they get invaded by a border power. Earth has seen that happen in its history, particularly with Europe and Asia. Luna would have seen it as well by now, if not for the First Contact. The problem is the power disparity. Going from the passive backing of 500 thousand planets and a central militarized state to that of maybe 4 or 5 planets with disjointed connections and only garrison supplies is a massive drop."
"But with your plan, there would be no border powers."
"There would be, of course," Kashaunta said. "There must be. Nations without a significant outside threat, that is at least somewhat credible, have a more difficult time staying united. Without a 'them' it is more difficult to define an 'us,' as we know very well."
"That is quite a cold way of looking at reality."
"Those who do otherwise are smears of gore amongst the black of space, or rotting in the ground of their home planets. Elders do not remain Elders by stupidity alone. Eventually, a few lessons must be learned."
"Must?"
"Must, even if they are later forgotten."
Kashaunta let out a sigh. "You and I, Penny. We are vastly different people. I admire your idealism, and I envy it. But when it comes to control of societies and curation of national identities, I have a vast array of experience."
"You do," Penny agreed. "The Pact says we should not lie to each other, so I will no longer dance around my reasons for my misgivings. I do not trust you because you are everything that has ruined the fortunes of my species in the past, often promising things like you do. Security before freedom, usually. You are rich. You are very far above most Sprilnav and even most Elders. You are a politician and a state leader. History tells me to be wary of such people, especially when they possess high amounts of power. Authoritarian countries can, with proper management, outpace those which are not by refusing to limit themselves by morals and ethics.
You are a queen, a monarch. This title goes back to the days of barbarity among our kind, when we believed people were superior based on bloodlines and genetics, sometimes to the extreme of actual inbreeding. You are highly experienced with manipulation, having billions of years of experience. I likely would not know whether you are manipulating me, and even Nilnacrawla has billions of years less experience with Elders than you would on account of his separation from Sprilnav society for so long.
I have no other trustworthy sources for what you say and do. I am surrounded only by enemies, neutral people, and you and Lecalicus alone as actual allies. Truth be told, there is nothing that will stop you from going back on all that you say because people like you have made promises not to before. And they did it anyway.
Companies. Nations. People. With a galaxy full of sentient minds all seemingly built on the same energy and manners of thinking, I see just another politician trying to get in good with me because I can get her what she wants. I fear that, Kashaunta. I fear it a lot. More than I have ever said and ever shown. It is a fear so visceral it colors my view of your entire species.
Because if you've lived a billion years, who's to say you haven't done this all before? How many aliens you've offered this honor, only to cast aside when they die fighting impossible enemies? And yes, my fear of you is that you will betray me. That is a deep-seated and personal matter that I will not explore at this time, but betrayal is something I guard against with all my might.
I hate that you have so much power over me, that I know it, and that you know it. You could enslave me for the next ten days, and I'd do it, to save my species. The Judgment trial is another way of showing the powerlessness of the galaxy before the Sprilnav, the powerlessness of the Alliance before the Sprilnav, and me before you, Justicar, and Yasihaut. Because guess what? I can win this. It will be hard, but I can do it because I set my mind to it, and my mind is my will, and my will is my iron fortress, my gauntleted fist, and my beating heart.
I can, I will, I must. But through all of this, guess what happens if I win the Judgment? Yasihaut files another one. I am strong, Kashaunta. Stronger than any human in history. But even now, inside your sanctum, inside the greatest ship I have ever seen, I remain powerless against the might of your people and your laws. I hear you talk of millennia and galaxies and think of how much I have struggled over the mere ten thousand star systems of the Alliance and this single planet's slave problem. There's billions more.
I have fought against odds beyond comprehension, but even now, I have to break bread with my enemy so that I can continue to survive in the system they built. Because with all that you are, it is impossible for me to see you as anything but an enemy. I cannot understand the value of the Pact. I can only guess at it. But the galaxy's weight is resting upon my shoulders, and my back is bowing. My spine... is breaking. How much more? How many more?
I hate what this universe is. I hate how it is structured. I hate the concepts, the Progenitors, the speeding space entities, and whoever else controls it. For a person to even condone the mindless suffering in this universe is an act of utter insanity. When I see you in your ivory castle, perched upon your mountains of gold, I think of the poor. I think of the justice you deserve that I cannot carry out because of the very power you wield. Do you know how angry that makes me? Do you know that my dreams are still sometimes haunted by Yasihaut's torture? I am a broken person, Kashaunta.
Broken by the weight of who I am and all I must do. But you, you get to sit here and eat, oblivious or indifferent to my suffering. Because you cannot stand to look down for fear of seeing the filth in your claws. I dream of your death, Kashaunta. And a thousand more. I want to tear down your civilization and all others like it. I want to kill, and maim, and murder. I want to be that indomitable power which all others fear and respect.
I want to mount Yasihaut's head on a spear and shove another between Nova's eyes for the crime of daring to use their ultimate power against me. And I want to kill you, too, for being the one I am forced to rely on to survive. For your own power being what forces me to bow and scrape to yet another master. This is why I bear my hatred for your kin, Kashaunta. Why I hate the Elders, the Progenitors, all of it. Because of the inherent unfairness of the galaxy you have built and the banal and insidious evil you have built it upon. I hate you, this galaxy, this universe.
Because you all will never get the justice you deserve, because I cannot repay the sheer weight of atrocity hanging from your heads. And to make you feel what you all deserve, would naturally require me to have the same punishment. Because I can't win without sinking to your level, either by being one of you Elders or having to use your ill-gotten power for my own benefit. I am climbing the mountain, the air is cold, the night is dark, the wind is blowing, and the ice is slick. I stand on the precipice of death, as does all I have known and loved.
To save them, I must use you, an Elder buoyed by an ocean of blood, merely so I can float up a little higher, perhaps to the next cliff or perhaps to that mountain peak. I believe I am fighting for the people. For freedom, justice, and the rights of my kind to self-determination. And to do so, I must sacrifice my own freedom. My own justice. And my own self-determination. All for winning a pointless case, against a stupid Elder who I'd press against a block of red-hot metal, just so I could enjoy her screams. I was a woman, once. A simple woman, a good human.
Now I am a monster. I have killed. I have avoided killing when I should not have. Yasihaut is still alive. Ikirshi is still alive. Tiglath is still alive. Nova is still alive. Azeri is still alive, too, even if his name is dead. Look what I am, and what I've had to do to get here. What will I have to do to continue? I am evil now. Because I will compromise my principles, and claim to fight for freedom while happily breaking bread with an Elder who openly espouses galactic domination. And I can't even say no, for fear of what that would mean for those I know and love.
I am broken, but I can still move. I can still think. And I can still hate. None of you have the right to stand against justice, but I do not have the power to make you kneel to it. Instead, I am being forced into this yet again. I deserve to die for what I am and what I have done, but I cannot because of who and what I fight for. I will only descend into worse depravity. When I am free of the Judgment, I will likely kill the slavers and enjoy it. Because that is what I am becoming now. I'm becoming you. Just as you said I would, proving that I'm powerless even against that."
Thick tears fell from Penny's eyes. With no one else but the Elder in the room and a currently fulfilled promise of no cameras, sound recording devices, and not even guards, only Kashaunta would know how much it pained Penny to say all this aloud. The pain doubled her over as the weight of her realization came to her.
Kashaunta let her be, waiting for Penny's tears to finally run dry. It was an ugly thing. All of the past trauma and misery came roaring back, drowning Penny in a sea of torment and suffering. Cardi and Nilncrawla were powerless to stop it. Her soul ached. Her mind shook.
At least, Penny drew a rasping breath. "So. Now you know, Kashaunta."
"I do," the Elder said. "I can tell you have many feelings on the matter. We don't have to continue discussion."
"You're not upset?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "Not at all. Why should I be? You bared your soul to me in this truth, Penny. Knowing the power I do hold over you, you did so anyway. This only proves that I was right to trust you and your strength."
"This isn't strength. I sat here and cried like a little girl."
"It took strength for you to admit how you feel and why, especially to me. To trust that I would listen, and to express exactly why you wish for me and my kin to die."
"You seem... oddly okay with me wanting to kill you."
"Because I have been surrounded by people who wanted to kill me before. Only one of them, in the long history of my life, admitted such to this extent before making their attempts, and that is you. I understand and respect your motive for wanting me dead, actually. I would feel the same way in your position. You are right. The way things are is not fair, and is not just. I also know that you won't kill me if you have the chance."
"Why do you think that?"
"Well, you do not seem the type to kill your allies, unless they directly betray you. I will not pretend that I am innocent. But do you truly think that you will be able to look me in the eyes, your main supporter among all my kind, and stab me in the heart? Because if you do kill me, I would at least request the honor of you doing it with your own hands. Or even the Soul Blade, if you wish to be poetic about it."
"So no lobbing asteroids of antimatter at you, then?" Penny laughed.
"I would think not, though if we are at that point, the future is lost anyway. To grapple with your past, present and future is a part of life, Penny. This right here is the reason I made the Pact with you. Because you are an honest person, with the will to do what is necessary, and the power to carry it out."
"But you'll be preparing contingencies to kill me, won't you?"
"No," Kashaunta said. "We are past that now."
"You act as if your life is already ending. A once in a billion years Pact with a human, acting like you won't protect yourself from a person who wants to murder you, and being uncaring about your legacy. Why?"
"Because it is you or nothing, Penny. I have lived over 13 billion years. I have had more than a full life. I have made my peace with death. Not the man himself, obviously, but the idea of it. We stand at the crossroads. I will wait no longer for the rot to keep spreading."
"So you will back me in the Judgment, then."
"More than that," Kashaunta said. "I am willing to be your lawyer, and represent you in this trial. If you accept, that is."
"I would, but I must ask you one question. Do you even care about the Alliance beyond what we could do to help you?"
"Yes, and no. I care about their idealism, and that they have AIs with high levels of cognitive power. I care that they recognise the value of Sprilnav lives as more than collateral damage, which is why their war plans only blow up our planets if they lose and are about to go extinct. Humanity and the hivemind are mainly valuable to me because they are valuable to you, the same with the rest of the Alliance. But they to have the ability to put a decent bureaucracy in place, through Phoebe and Edu'frec, or even the hivemind if it expands."
"Would you care if we lost?"
"Yes, though I can force myself not to if I must."
It seemed like an honest assessment of the situation. There was one more thing.
"Are you actually a lawyer, then? And are you skilled with Judticar's laws? It's quite touching that you're still willing to vouch for me, but if you don't have any sort of law degree, I can't exactly accept that."
"Yes to both. While I don't have an Eonic degree, I do have several thousand years of legal studies, with about a hundred in Justicar law."
"Would that actually be sufficient?"
"Yes. When we Sprilnav say we have put a hundred years into something, that is a raw time. It does not include sleeping, eating, vacations, and so on. My implant tells me I spent 181 years specifically studying Justicar law."
"How did you have time?"
"Delegation is a valuable skill for the sanity of country leaders."
"I suppose," Penny said. "Do you think that you and I appearing together in court would be detrimental to my case?"
"The only avenue they could pursue is that you've 'turned' me to your side. But seeing as I am extremely powerful and have refused bribes of inconceivable amounts of wealth, that narrative will be poorly accepted by all but the most biased of Judges. Or High Judges, as the case will be. Unfortunately, I do not qualify as either a Judge or High Judge, but my credentials and power are more than sufficient for them to be unable to block my ability to represent you. You have, as Nilnacrawla may have told you, already paid me for your services. Your linear singularities are more stable than I thought."
"So the money finally shows itself again," Penny smiled.
Kashaunta shared her grin. "Yes. That it does. You are surprisingly profitable as a bonus."
"I'm sure everything else I do is the bonus. Like making the other nations end slavery."
"Well, that would actually make them more productive."
"So why..."
"Elders love feeling powerful. They love having power over others, and being able to show it. They are generally insecure, their brains polluted by eons of paranoia and propaganda. The weakness of Elders is something that the powers that be use to exploit them."
"And your ego?"
"They have to prove their superiority to themselves. I live and breathe it with every step I take in this galaxy."
Penny sighed. "That is an impressive level of narcissism."
"That word didn't translate."
"It is a way to say a person admires themself to an unnatural and unhealthy degree."
"Then it would describe me, except the degree is quite healthy and natural. Elders' egos also help to keep us going. Reputation isn't just an external motivation."
Penny nodded. "We still must discuss your approach toward people in general later. But we have other priorities, don't we?"
"The Judgment," Kashaunta agreed. "You and Yasihaut will attend the Fort Court, and will be even better protected than last time. The Underground beneath it is continually pulverized, as it sits on a mostly active volcanic system, with lava outlets designed to ensure tunneling is impossible. The mindscape side fortifications are similarly impressive, and Justicar has spent a considerable amount of money on ensuring the security of this Judgment.
His reputation hinges on it greatly, even more so as he is there in person as a Judge. This makes him more vulnerable than usual. But if you kill his body, he will live. I do not suggest you try it, however. What I aim to do is present an argument that the premise of the Judgment trial is flawed, as there is limited legal proof that you and the Alliance are a threat to the Sprilnav.
To do this, I have already helped to secure two things for you. The treaty with Valisada and the Pact of Blades with me. These items will ensure the common scrutiny and arguments used against aliens will be ineffective. You have proven yourself capable of adhering to and participating in our customs, especially the ones related to trust and binding agreements. You also have wisely avoided killing any Sprilnav for a while. This, especially in the context of the slaves and the 85th Grand Fleet, will be massively beneficial to your argument.
Beyond this, I also have an array of legal evidence to challenge Yasihaut if she brings up your hatred of her, or the previous Judgment's outcome, or the battle that crippled the Progenitors. Indrafabar will be helpful to us, as he will defend the honor of his kin. He will not allow the argument of you being as strong as the Progenitors be seriously considered. No matter what you say or what people think, this will be a question of whether you can convince Indrafabar and Justicar of your ability to be peaceful, and behind that the Alliance.
You will find it harder to defend the rhetoric the Alliance has put out, but I have secured this portion of the Judgment with my defensive agreements with them as well. You both are anchored to me and my reputation too strongly for any of them to ignore, which is yet another reason why I am hoping to help defend you in person."
"So you are staking your own reputation on me, too. Is that another reason you did the Pact?"
"It is. The reputational blow losing this Judgment could have will not be enough to topple me. But it is a catalyst. It is capable of starting a chain of downfall events that lead to my dethroning or even my death. I am aware of this and am doing what I can to stave off that process and shore up all my defenses. I also have a lawyer with an Eonic degree in Justicar law who will be the main defender of your argument.
My presence in the court will be for your protection and as a reminder of the fact that you have a backer, and that backer is me. I expect Yasihaut's counterparts to undertake a similar process, though she will find it easier due to her being an Elder. I will introduce you to him in ten minutes."
"That is very kind of you, Kashaunta. I know that we have had our differences, and that your past is quite a contentious thing. But if I put all of that aside, and look at you as you are here, and now, I am grateful that you are doing all of this for me and my people. I do not know whether I can repay you for the Pact of Blades, but your conviction and intelligence are traits I admire."
"You are welcome, Penny. I know I cannot atone. But I will help you build a better galaxy, just as it should be."
Penny patted her on the hed, and turned her gaze to the opposite wall.
"I'm afraid," she admitted.
"Fear in this situation is natural. There is no shame in it. Your strength will allow you to work through it. Whether it is the strength you carry in your soul, or that which your father and Cardinality bring with them. You can do this, Penny. We can win."
"And if Yasihaut files another Judgment?"
Kashaunta gave her a dark grin. "I have a plan for that, too. When the Pact of Blades is revealed in the court, my abilities to aid you will widen considerably. They will understand, and if not, Indrafabar will teach them. He was there, after all."
"And this isn't witness tampering or whatever?"
"That doesn't exist here," Kashaunta said. "Justicar's laws do not include that. He enforces that by his soft power. It makes things more fair between Elders, but not between Elders and others. As is by design."
"Kashaunta," Penny said. "While you are an okay person, by your current deeds, I can't really say I'm not going to take the guy with a billion years of legal education over your scant hundred."
"I do not need to be your main lawyer, I just need to have the job listed as such in the courtroom. If he requires it, the lawyer will speak over me and you in all matters."
"You and I, you mean?"
"I do not mean," Kashaunta said. "My language does not always follow your grammatical rules."
"Speaking of that, during the Pact, you spoke a language we couldn't translate for a bit."
"Can you repeat it?"
"'Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And then you said, 'Tol, nopa shikai.'"
"It roughly means: 'This act is between Penny Balica and the Elder Kashaunta. Now, we are in the claws of the Progenitors. Sp'rkial'nova. Homo Sapiens.' And the second part means 'take it or leave it,' or more accurately 'take or leave.' That's about what I said."
"So Dorima means Elder, and Dorima'Pecunyanova means Progenitor?"
"Yes. The specific translation is 'mourning one' and 'mourning god' for those terms. Pecunyanova was the very first Progenitor, and Nova's grandfather, which he took a piece of the name of. Nova took in the powers of his entire family line when he became a Progenitor, including Pecunyanova's title of Everlasting."
"I can sense a deeper meaning beyond the mourning."
"The type of 'mourning' that the ancient language describes is a soul agony, of the type which drives the happiest souls to suicide and the most evil souls to tears. There are many more descriptions given to the agony of remembering the Source war, which is what defines the name. We mourn our species, our empires, our lost galaxies, and even the aliens that once lived with us. Imagine you were on Earth, and you had a nuclear war. No shields, no bunkers.
And all that survived the aftermath, the starvation and the proxy wars over the scraps that remained, was the equivalent of a single village. That is how close we are to extinction, Penny. Progenitors went mad with grief. Entire cities voted to activate nuclear arsenals upon themselves. 70 whole Grand Fleets drove straight into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, never to return. It is a trauma... a trauma difficult to even describe now, with over 99.99% of my memories of that war strictly sealed away.
By the end of it, we were burning reality itself to try and burn the Source to ash. We weaponized linear singularities, sending them deep into the Source's flesh. We opened spatial rifts in that bastard's galaxy-sized body. We live in a false vacuum, Penny. Our scientists learned that, and harnessed that. We sent weapons at the Source capable of writing entire concepts out of reality and capable of changing reality itself to kill. Weapons outright banned between the universal superpowers were thrown like chaff in the wind. The fear and madness of that time... nothing comes close to it.
And it is another reason why we commit so many atrocities. Because we have lost our power, any way of feeling like we still have even a scrap of it is irresistible. Others have fallen to the sweet bliss of drugs, or the digital equivalent. More Sprilnav than are alive now by a million times are stored in databanks, waiting for us to build a new universal empire."
"And... the Source?"
"The cursed thing lived. A mockery to us all, one which we know we are powerless to do anything about. It could come here even now and crush my flagship between its skin cells. It could crush this entire galaxy by wading through it in a few years. And no, it does not know or care about little things like the speed of light. It broke causality in many of its battles without care for those it killed. And what you don't know is that the Source war wasn't the first time people tried to kill it.
Other universal powers did and drove it back with lesser weapons than what we used. But power that could force it away did nothing when it came for us. That burning, blinding hatred. It was hell, Penny. And what is left behind is almost as bad. And let me say that almost as bad in this case is still constant agony. Constant misery. I was one of them once. One of the Elders that hated everyone in the universe for the crime of being happy after such a horrendous fall.
I killed many people. I destroyed planets. I killed children, babies, and smashed eggs with my own claws. In person. The depths of what I sank to are beyond depraved and evil, Penny. I refuse to lose hope again. This is why I am here, now, backing you. I cannot atone, but I can rebuild. The Source will feed you its lies but do not forget what it is. Who it is. And what it has done to us."
"Your retelling is not fully accurate," Exile said.
"I am aware of that, speeding space entity. I told the most complete story I know, and will not bring back millions of years of agony just to give a better one. It is not safe for her."
"How would it be unsafe for me?" Penny asked.
"Because I would go insane and kill you, obviously."
"And the Pact of Blades?"
"Unless the Progenitors got here in time, you'd still die. They'd kill me next, with only a slight difficulty if only one is sent, and that one is not Nova. No bond is truly unbreakable, but that is what it would take for me to break the Pact of Blades. I... my mind is built on a foundation of ash. Turn that ash back to wood, and the center will fall through."
Penny moved closer to Kashaunta. She moved her arm over Kashaunta's back. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."