Operation: Pacifica, Delirium
by DarkSide (darkside@seanet.com)

 DarkSide rubbed the growing lump on the back of his head.  What the
  hell was that back there?  There was absolutely no reason why he should made
  such an outburst.  And especially not in reference to a Maenad.  He had far
  more intelligence and a stronger sense of self-preservation than that.

 He pulled his flowing trenchcoat tight around him as the wind
  picked up, sensing a dull throbbing building in his head.  "Oh great," he
  muttered to himself.  "Thanks J-Rock."

 He massaged his temples as the throbbing grew to a pounding.
  Something told him it wasn't the whack that spawned the headache.  DS
  squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.  On the sound of
  the wind, he could hear whispers.  The whispers chanted archane words, the
  volume of the voices building steadily in intensity, the throbbing in his
  head growing in parallel.  He clutched his skull in pain, barely able to
  make out some of the words.  He gritted his teeth as the throbbing became a
  searing pain, flashes of white glaring behind his closed eyelids.  Still the
  pain kept growing, the voices getting louder still.  The pressure in his
  head grew intense.  He felt as though his head would explode.  DarkSide
  screamed.

 Blackness.

 He awoke to a Dobe Trooper jostling him awake.  He sat up, head
  pounding like a sunofabitch.  He massaged his temple.  "Damn... what the
  hell?"  He glanced at his watch.  Half an hour had passed.  Half an hour he
  couldn't remember.

 "Funny," he muttered, "I do'na remember drinkin' anythin'."

 He hauled himself up, waving off the Trooper as he slung Darkness
  back over his shoulder, stumbling off in the direction of the headquarters
  of Army Group B.  "What the hell happened back there?" he tossed over his
  shoulder.  Silence from the Claymore.

 "Thanks for yer help," he grumbled.

 "Well, this is for sucks," J-Rock said as DS stumbled into the
  room.  "Who knew there would be _this_ many Spongin on the island?"  DS
  noted Jimbo and Sabine as he held his aching head.

 "I don't think any of us have the answer to that," Yearnshaw
  noted.

 "So why don't we go after them and finish them off?" DarkSide
  asked, blinking a bit as a wave of dizziness passed over him.  He leaned
  against a table a bit.

 "Right now," J-R intoned, "both sides are like punch-drunk prize
  fighters, staggering around the ring.  One good punch would send any of them
  to the canvas... or so the Lyrans would have us believe."

 DarkSide closed his eyes, the dizziness getting a little worse.  He
  took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly.  He glanced around, suddenly
  sensing something not quite right.  Something felt wrong.

 "The trick is there's more of them than there is of us.  Right now,
  the logical thing to do would be to clinch like crazy and wait for the bell.
  They'll be waiting when we've regrouped."

 And then it hit him.  He could feel the heat, the rage bubbling up
  inside him.  He didn't know why.  He tried to hold it back, but to no avail.
  As the hatred began to overcome him, he glanced around the room and
  witnessed what he was reacting to.

 His aura sight picked up a faint lavendar glow around each of his
  friends, growing in intensity each time he blinked.  As he focused, each
  one's appearance twisted into a hideous visage.  Horrid, shadowy beasts...
  dripping fangs... razor-sharp talons... long, twisting tentacles... glowing
  blood-red eyes.  Lyran creations, designed to infiltrate the ranks of the
  Jihaddi invasion force.  He wondered how many more there were amongst the
  strike force.  No matter... he could see them for what they were... and soon
  there would be three less.

 "How can you be sure that they would have reinforcements?" the
  Sabine-creature asked.

 "If Operation Phoenix taught me anything, it's to expect the
  unexpected. That, and not to take anything for granted," the J-Rock-beast
  bubbled forth, fangs glistening in the light.

 "Ye got that right, demon!" roared DarkSide, drawing forth the
  Claidheamohmor de a' Dorche.  The J-Rock-creature snarled incomprehensibly
  as DS brought the massive blade down, cleaving a table in half, missing the
  creature by inches.  The beast quickly pinned Darkness down with an eldritch
  blade, delivering a sharp blow blow to DS' chin with a powerful tentacle,
  causing him to stagger backward, losing his grip on the ebon sword.

 "Ye bastards 'll never take me alive!" he screamed, releasing the
  fury of the beast within.  He convulsed violently, his bones rearranging
  themselves as sharp spines of bone pierced his darkening flesh.  He stood as
  he grew to his full near-eight foot height, glaring at the beast through
  maddened slits of fire.  Fingers of flame danced about his taloned hands as
  he clenched and unclenched his fists.  He brought his arm back, hurling an
  incendiary orb across the room, followed by several more projectiles, each
  erupting in a flower of light and heat upon impact.  The Sabine-creature
  reeled back in fear as one of the balls exploded near it, sending burning
  debris flying.

 The J-Rock-beast growled at the imp, anger flaring in its multiple
  eyes.  Electricity played over the beast's skin, and it grew in size, a
  plume of red fire erupting on its head.  The DarkImp turned to the creature
  as it growled forth a challenge.  Increasing his firepower would be
  necessary, and boosting his own damage would be an enormous energy drain on
  him.  He needed something heavier.  He glanced sideways, catching sight of
  his FireBomb Rifle[tm].  He made a move for it, immediately finding a
  tentacle ensnaring his neck.  The imp snarled and spun, planting his fist
  firmly in the beast's gut.  The beast grunted, staggering back slightly
  before delivering a swipe with a taloned hand, slashing the demon's face.

 DarkSide hissed, reaching for the bloodying wound, then summoning
  his strength, forming a dense sphere of fire between flaring palms.  He
  hurled the ball at the J-Rock-beast, watching with satisfaction as the dense
  orb exploded violently.  The imp turned to the next of his quarry.

 Pain.

 DarkSide collaped to the floor, clutching his gut at the point
  where stomach met foot.  Another boot sent him sprawling across the floor.
  He looked up to see the unharmed visage of the J-Rock-creature.  With a
  snarl of anger, he lept up, tackling the beast to the ground.  He brought
  his arm to drive his elbow spike into the beast's face, finding it blocked
  by a taloned hand.  He brought the other as the beast palmed his chin.  He
  began bring the elbow down when a searing pain erupted in his groin.

 He found himself sailing in the air, landing hard on the floor, the
  garden of sharp spines on his back embedding themselves in the floor.  The
  beast pinned him, forcing his head to turn to the mirror he had landed next
  to.  The image of the beast in the mirror swirled and melted, revealing the
  visage of Slider the Feral (NYAR!).  DarkSide snarled and strained,
  blinking, not wanting to believe his eyes.  "Da Lyruns are usin' ya, see,"
  belched forth the beast, jerking the imp's head back to face it.  The
  beast's aura began to change, the lavendar tinge leaving it.  It shoved his
  head back to face the mirror, its gutteral sounds taking form.

 "Dey're mukkin' wit' yer mind, makin' ya see wot isn't troo. Dey're
  doin' it ta make ya attack us insted uv goin' to give dem a taste of boot
  leather. Now knokkit off and act like a Jihaddi, all roight?!"

 DarkSide grunted and strained against the beast, blinking his eyes
  as the image of the creature began to melt away, revealing Slider.  The
  tension in the imp eased as the red haze of rage subsided.  He glanced
  around, watching as the other two beasts melted away to show their true
  selves.  DS took a deep breath, his body writhing invountarily as his
  skeleton shifted to its "normal" state.

 "Damn," he muttered as his skin returned to a fleshy hue. "I had no
  idea my anger could be used against us."  Not true, he thought to himself.
  The demon's rage was always a vulnerable point... once released, it was hard
  for him to control.  They just had to find a way to tap into it.  And his
  current mental state had left him wide open.

 "Relax," Slider said, getting to his feet, "you'll be reddy for da
  next time."  DarkSide rubbed the slashmarks across his cheek as they began
  to fade out.

 "Did you have to hit me that hard?" he mused.

 "Wot're friends for?" Slider extended a hand to DS, and as he took
  it, Slider pulled him to his feet. "Ya okay, Sab?" he asked as jry came in
  with a fire extinguisher and hosed down the fires.

 Sabine smiled and nodded.  "This whole island seems like one giant
  trap," DarkSide muttered. "And all means, fair and unfair, are being used to
  try to wipe us out," he said as he sheathed Darkness, slinging the harness
  back over his back.

 "I 'eard dat," said Slider.  "It's like a web 'as been spun to
  entangul us, and we're tryin' not ta get stook.  And leavin' the rest uv da
  boyz ta rot is not an optshun."

 "Dere's a spida in da web, DS," Slider said as he shifted into his
  'normal' seeming, "and I fully intend to kill it."  He turned to face
  DarkSide, finding only emptiness.  "Damn," he mumbled.

 DarkSide sighed heavily as he stood upon the roof of the house,
  gazing in the direction of the Lyran fortress, his coat fluttering in the
  breeze.  He had let his defenses down, and now the Lyrans were in his head.
  How long would it be before they gained control of him again?  Would he have
  the strength to hold them off?  Questions he couldn't answer himself.

 Only time would tell.

Copyright (c) 1997 DarkSide Studios