INTERMISSION

  A tall man in jet black armor strode through the streets of London, a great-sword held easily in one hand, a tall shield in the other. He spotted a troll menacing a family while the father tried to ward it off with a make-shift club. With a mighty shout to draw the troll’s attention, the Black Knight rushed it, knocking the beast away from the uninitialized and brought his sword down to cleave it in two in a single stroke.

  “You alright?” He raised his helmet to reveal a dashingly handsome black-eyed man sporting a comforting smile and roguish good looks.

  “Lord Worthington!” The father exclaimed. “Thank God you were here!”

  “We’ve still got trolls and other beasties popping up everywhere, man. What are you doing out?” The young Lord asked.

  “It’s my little gel.” The father nodded to where a young girl was held by the mother. “She’s diabetic, and . . .”

  “Say no more.” Worthington knelt down to turn his smile on the girl. “Let’s get you your medicine, little Princess.”

  The girl smiled back and gave a shy ‘thank you’, blushing as she snuggled into her mother’s skirts.

  “Milord, you can’t just rush ahead like that!” A portly man puffed as he caught up. “Your health!”

  Worthington laughed. “With this Dusk Knight Template, I’ve never been better! Especially with the 20% bloodline bonus I started with. Now, let’s get these people to the clinic. For Goddess and Country, Patsy!”

  “Er, you mean ‘God and Country’, right Milord? And it’s Patrick, sir.” ‘Patsy’ sighed.

  “Why do I keep saying that?” Worthington shook his head. “And where’s your coconuts?”

  “Must have left them somewhere, sir.” Patsy sighed. “Forget my own head next, I expect.”

  ~~~

  In the Japanese countryside, an old village temple . . .

  A young, androgynous Japanese . . . girl? sat in seiza in front of an elderly priest. Two blades lay in front of him?, one white as fresh snow, the other black as coal. Her hair too was pure white on the left, and pure black on the right. His eyes were in turn black on the left and white on the right.

  “So, as the avatar of the two-as-one deity enshrined here, you encompass both Light and Dark in balance.” The old priest intoned seriously. “Your Light shall burn away the demons that hunt the streets, and your Darkness shall protect and heal the weak.” He finished, presenting a yin-yang symbol to her.

  “I know all that, grandpa. That’s why I picked the Template I did. Not that I had many options.” He muttered. “I just didn’t know it would give me THIS!” She pointed between his legs.

  The old man coughed uncomfortably. “Well, the two-as-one deity was said to be both male and female, perfectly harmonizing . . .”

  “How do you make it go down!?” She demanded. “I was making out with my boyfriend and it stood up and he freaked out!”

  His grandfather stood up. “I had that talk with your uncle. Once was enough. Your father is a doctor, he can explain it.”

  A lovely, frail looking woman knocked on the door. “Hikaru-chan, you have some friends here to see you.”

  “Thank you, daughter, I am finished.” The old priest said quickly, rushing out of the room and making his escape.

  “Coward.” Hikaru muttered, grabbing her swords and leaving the main Temple and over to the attached residence.

  Once in the sitting room he saw a vaguely familiar black-haired boy with a bow and a vaguely familiar white-haired girl with a magic staff. “Hello?” She looked between the two, uncertain.

  The boy rushed over with a smile. “It’s Sakura, Hikaru-chan. I’ve always loved you. And now we can be together!”

  Hikaru blushed and pulled back from what he now recognized as her formerly female best friend.

  “Hold it!” The girl pushed Sakura out of the way. “It’s Kenji, Hikaru-kun. I’m so sorry about how I reacted before. To show you how much I love you and want to be with you, I chose this Template! Now there’s nothing keeping us apart.”

  “She’s mine” Sakura grabbed his arm.

  “He’s mine!” Kenji grabbed her other.

  “Knock it off!” Hikaru tried pulling their arms free. A crunch drew his attention to where her mother and grandmother sat with a bowl of snacks, watching the three teens. “Really!?” He demanded.

  “Don’t mind us.” Her grandmother waved it off. “Just pretend we’re not here.”

  The opening door brought the arrival of Hikaru’s father.

  “Help?” S/He begged.

  He took one look at the scene and sighed. “There’s been way too many young girls in the clinic asking for the ‘day after’ pill, I’m nipping this problem in the bud.” He went to the kitchen and came back with a banana and a round foil-wrapped object. “Now, this is a condom, and pretend this is your-”

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  “Daaad!” Hikaru protested as all three teens blushed furiously.

  “I am not going to become a grandfather in the middle of an apocalypse! You all are going to practice with this banana, and I am going to explain in detail the progression of pregnancy and exactly what childbirth entails.” The doctor said fiercely.

  “Nooooo!” The three teens wailed in despair.

  ~~~

  The white room of the Tower rang with the sound of metal striking metal as a large, gruff black man with wide, muscled shoulders slammed hammer to glowing steel in front of him again, and again. He examined the length and frowned, returning it to a forge that burned with a murky flame. He wiped sweat from his shaved head and sighed, drinking water while the metal heated up again.

  “Half done.” He scowled at a row of ten dark-steel swords laid out on a table. “At least to get all the points I can from this Trial.” He glanced at the door that stated ‘10/10 swords crafted’ and back to where 9 unused sword blanks still waited to be forged. “Let’s see, if that info pack I bought with my first point was right, I can add to my Dusk concept to upgrade it, and merge three energies together to upgrade that too . . .” He sighed and pulled the steel back out with his bare hand, the flame and heat not bothering him at all. “Slow is true, true is fast . . .” His hammer fell again, and again. “Get the points, get back to your wife and son, they’re counting on you.”

  ~~~

  A man in a scorched and torn suit that once looked to be top of the line raged as he stormed through a Baptist Church in Georgia. Every cross, every picture of Jesus met a quick end from a blast of tainted light.

  “Dear, what are you doing!?” A well dressed woman with plenty of jewelry demanded. “This is your Church! What if someone sees you?”

  “My wife . . .” A light of fanaticism burned in the preacher’s eyes. “I have been shown the Truth! I am a Beacon for the Master.” His voice held a midwestern tone under an added southern twang. “The Light shall let us Free the Master so we can rule this universe as Gods!” He laughed and laughed.

  “You . . . you’re crazy . . .” She backed away, face pale.

  “You dare insult my Mission!?” He screamed, striking her across the face and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You will obey me, and through me the Master. We will free him from his prison!”

  “Yes . . .” Her eyes glazed over. “Free the Master . . .”

  ~~~

  Deep inside the Vatican an old man wearing a tall hat of white and gold slowly walked down the hall, escorted by several young men and women in heavy armor. “You say he’s been like this ever since he returned?”

  “Yes, your Holiness.” A young priest led the way, worry etched on his face. “He has been frantically reciting ‘Our Father’ and ‘Ave Maria’ between frantically reciting scripture and crying out in fear and terror. He says he will only speak with you.”

  “Your Holiness, perhaps . . .” One of the guards frowned, addressing the Pope.

  He raised a hand, silencing him. “Cardinal Frollo has always worked tirelessly and devoutly for the Church, and for the Creator. Despite his . . . unfortunate name. I have always found him a good, honest and honorable man. If he has something he can only tell me, I trust it to be important.” The group continued on and stopped outside a door where they could hear a voice reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Latin again, and again. “Open it.” He commanded. “I will speak with him alone.”

  “Yes, your Holiness.” The guardsman nodded.

  As the door opened it revealed a man in the prime of his life, but with eyes that stared in horror beyond his apparent years. He was dressed in a Cardinal’s robe that was ripped, and stained with blood.

  “Frollo, my child. I am here.” The Pope said gently, taking a seat.

  Cardinal Frollo rushed the other man and clung to him, weeping terribly. “Your Holiness, I have seen him! He is real! He is coming!”

  “Who is coming? The Lord? The Christ?” He asked.

  “No! I would praise if it was Him! I would shout from the streets, dancing with joy!” Frollo wailed. “No, the Deceiver! He comes, he rails against his prison! I have seen him!” He wept in terror. “He speaks to me now! He mocks me, tempts me!”

  “Oh, my child.” The Pope gently laid his hand on Frollo’s head. “Be at Peace.” A subtle bit of power flowed to him and severed a tainted thread of power.

  “He . . . he is silent.” Frollo looked up, awed.

  “He cannot speak to you again, despite your Blood.” The Pope smiled gently.

  Frollo flinched. “Your Holiness . . .”

  “In my prayers, I have been given knowledge . . . always a curse and a blessing.” He sighed, looking up to the Heavens. “I have been told of what the Deceiver has done, creating a child with the dying Goddess of another universe’s planet, so that one of them might break his chains, or at least do his will on this planet.” He looked down with another gentle smile. “You are tasked with helping the one who will stand against him, and protect this planet from the dangers these . . . Trials bring.”

  “Yes, of course! Who? Is it you?” Frollo looked eager.

  “No, not me.” The Pope chuckled. “No, it is a young woman, who shed the Corruption in her Blood left by the Deceiver, and embraced the Sacred Night. Find her, help her, and in doing, save us all.”

  ~~~

  Benjamin Shuler walked into the apartment and sighed, forcing the deadbolt closed through the badly repaired damage. He dropped his helmet and shield on the kitchen table and moved to the second bedroom where he collapsed into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. “It’s a week I’ve been back, man. Why aren’t you?” He took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up. “Guess I should admit it. Nobody’s taken this long to get back. You’re gone, Charles.” He looked around sadly. “Might as well pack your stuff up. Your sister would at least want something to remember you by.”

  Ben grabbed a box and started packing away his roommate’s stuff, occasionally remarking about this memory, or that event, his voice choked with emotion. As he started packing up Charles’ artwork he came across a drawing still in the scanner, a tall and curvy red-eyed woman with silver-blond hair, black highlights and dressed in leather warrior gear. “You missed one, buddy. Still can’t believe you did 20 tries before going off on the guy.” He chuckled. “Think I’ll keep this one. It’ll remind me how stubborn you were.”

  “Ben?” An unfamiliar female voice asked from the bed.

  He turned to see a tall and curvy woman with silver-blond hair and black highlights wearing leather armor rush him. He braced for impact, swearing that he had left his shield in the other room. She collided with him and he froze as he found himself with an armful of gorgeous woman clinging to him and sobbing her eyes out, babbling about how bad it was and how often she almost died, and how happy she was he was ok. The drawing slipped from his hands, the face a perfect match for the sobbing woman.

  91 days to Charlie’s second Trials