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

 Blackness.

 Complete, total, utter nothingness.

 Gregor Lamont drifted about the nothing, a disembodied
  consciousness floating in the empty void.  Images of his past and twisted
  visions of his comrades continued to plague him as the Lyran mage continued
  to tighten his stranglehold on Gregor's psyche, even in this limbo.

 Gregor's consciousness fought back, shaking off the visions.  He
  could sense the Lyran's presence with him in the nothingness.

 [Why don'cha jus' give up, ye rotten bastard?!  Ye can'na turn me
  on me friends again.  Piss off now, ye bother me!]

 Gregor "felt" a sudden burning sensation... a sensation in... a
  body?  Slowly the sensation of the nothingness surrounding began to
  dissipate and a feeling of solidness began to take its place.  The blankness
  of the void faded into a red, then into a blinding white as his
  consciousness was dragged back to the earthly realm.  As he faded back into
  the reality, he caught the sense of yet another presence there.... unknown
  to him, yet somehow familiar.  Something... wild....

 Pain.

 Burning, searing, agonizing pain.

 Not just your average run-of-the-mill agonizing pain, but holy-
  shit-this-hurts, dragged-across-a-field-of-broken-glass, set-on-fire,
  skinned-alive-and-dunked-into-a-vat-of-lemon-juice and fed-through-a-food-
  processor-while-still-kicking pain.

 DarkSide's scream rattled the windows all throughout the streets of
  the city.

 He writhed in agony as his body began to repair itself, replacing
  the bone and flesh that hand been blasted completely away from his shattered
  ribcage down.  Bones grew and reknitted, muscle crept its way over bone,
  growing, building mass.  Internal organs formed from masses of goo.  Blood
  pulsed through newly formed veins and arteries as a mass of tissue formed a
  heart.  Skin slowly formed to contain and protect the newly formed systems.

 Slowly, the intensity of the pain began to fade as the nerves in
  his body calmed.  Slowly and groggily, he sat up.  Standing in the ground
  next to him was Darkness, giving off its intense deep blue glow.

 "I thought ye said tha' ye were'na gonna help me like that
  anymore," he said.

 [There are always exceptions,] remarked the blade.  [But be aware
  that this was the first and last time that I can assist you in such a
  manner.]

 DS nodded as he stood, a bit shaky as the new limbs grew accustomed
  to supporting his weight.  He leaned on the sword for support, grumbling as
  a heavy throb grew in his head.  "Who woulda guessed that being resurrected
  would give ya such a hangover?" he muttered.  He glanced around, noting the
  large red smear of viscera on the ground nearly twenty feet away that used
  to be him.  "Blah," was all he could get out.  The grenade must have
  impacted in his hip... luckily for him.

 He pulled the tattered remains of his coat around him and tied it.
  Damn, he needed some clothes.  He was getting in a bad habit of finding
  himself naked.

 DS pulled Darkness out of the ground and started off down the
  sidewalk, stopping as he heard the familiar tromp of combat boots and the
  squealing of spongin.  He pressed his back to the wall as the four spongin
  flowed from the alley, sent to investigate the source of his scream.  The
  blade of Darkness whistled through the air, cleaving the skull of the
  nearest spongie neatly through down to its heart.  He thrust the blade
  forward, pushing it deeper through the sponge, and shoved, driving the tip
  through the chest of the next spongin before hefting the two bodies around
  on the blade to act as a shield as the third and fourth spongin opened fire.

 DarkSide's eyes flared bright red as he raised a hand toward one of
  the spongin, heat rippling from his skin.  The spongie screamed as its
  uniform burst into flames, drawing the attention of its comrade.  The
  remaining spongin looked back at DS just in time to catch the sight of the
  huge black blade before it cleft through its temple.

 A low rumble shook the ground, alerting DS to the approach of his
  large saurian friend.  He quickly pocketed a couple grenades and a 9mm
  sidearm and then stood back, waiting for his killer to arrive.  The nagenta
  dinosaur thundered around the corner and stopped cold at the sight of DS
  standing calmly before it.

 It blinked, somewhat astonishedly.  "Fascinating," it said.
  "Somehow you've managed to *gauk*"  Darkness tore a wide gash in the dino's
  throat.  DS pulled a grenade from his pocket as the MENSAn staggered
  backward, gurgling.  DS pulled the pin and let the trigger fly, leaping up
  and catching the edge of the gash in the dino's neck, tearing in even more
  as he crammed the grenade through the wound and into its throat.  He dropped
  and rolled as the MENSAn clawed frantically at the wound, trying to dig the
  grenade out.  Three seconds later the MENSAn's head vanished in a haze of
  red and gray.

 DarkSide stood and dusted himself off, watching as the decapitated
  hulk of the MENSAn toppled to the ground.  He picked up Darkness and
  resheathed it as the sharp stabbing pains assaulted his brain with
  horrifying imagery.  As he held his hands to his temples, he decided there
  and then that it was time to hunt down the Lyran bastard that was trying to
  turn his brain and his will into tapioca pudding and kill him, and Grimace
  help whatever poor soul that tried to stop him.

...

 DarkSide's TARAV tore across the gray wasteland of the desert, not
  bothering to stop for any obstacle it could barrel over, living or
  otherwise.  A small scout group of spongin soon found themselves as hood
  ornaments as the speeding TARAV plowed through their troupe.  Ahead, the
  Lyran fortress loomed larger and larger in the distance as he neared.  He
  winced as the pains in his skull grew steadily stronger, yet wore a grin on
  his face.  The very same link that was meant to break him would lead him to
  his tormentor.

 DS glanced behind him, noting the remnants of the Jihaddi force
  gathering on the horizon.  He looked ahead of him.... they should be here by
  the time he scaled the plateau and was in the fortress.  Here comes the
  cavalry.

[ Ten minutes later... ]

 The TARAV slowed to a halt at the base of the plateau upon which
  the Lyran fortress was perched.  DS emerged from it, slinging the
  Claidheamohmor de a' Dorche across his back and drawing his Puffer[tm] from
  the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder.  The fortress loomed
  ominously overhead, spurring a spontaneous shiver from DS.  His eyes
  traveled up the craggy sides of the plateau, further up the sinister sides
  of the fortress to its top, where it seemed to fade in the distance.

 DS sighed and slipped on his gloves.  He had his work cut out for
  him.

Copyright (c) 1997 DarkSide Studios