Operation Phoenix: Light and Shadow by Shardik the Feral (NYAR!), afn24211@afn.org I see your face looking back at me And I raise my head and stare Into the eyes of a stranger I've always known that the mirror never lies "Eyes of a Stranger," _Operation Mindcrime_, Queensryche Sheridan stood before the being which bore an amazing resemblance to himself, even down to the tiny swirling runes that could be seen dancing just under the surface of his fire blackened armor. Neither made a motion, neither made a sound. As the battle raged about them, the two Sheridans begun to stalk each other in a tight circle, each one's eyes never leaving the others. Their mutual hatred for one another, each identical in all visible ways save for their allegiances, one, a slave to the Hell Wyrm, the other the Chosen of Khorne. The pair's eyes began to glow with burning flames, and the twin Daemon Princes charged each other. "Zero Signal," _Demanufacture_, Fear Factory The pair coiled about each other, throwing punches and kicks, ducking, wheeling and blocking far faster than any human eye could see. Neither could gain any form of advantage over the other, for each could block nor dodge the other's blows almost before the attack was made. One Sheridan would feint a lunge, while the other rolled beneath the round house that he already knew was coming. As one the pair drew their swords. Both blades looking exactly the same, as did the men wielding the blades. The pair flew into each other, each one charging with more force than a mere human could hope to imagine. When the pair collided, the sound of their swords clanging and their armors breaking into each other make a crash louder than any peal thunder this world had ever heard. "This is super-dee-wooper-dooper," squealed the Mauve Molester of Minors. He giggled with insane mirth as the battles raged, his commentary being utterly ignored by the regal Lord of the Fries and the X'hirjq Empress. B'harne howled in utter delight as the pair wheeled and parried closer and closer. "I'll have such a WONDERFUL view" howled B'harne as he stepped forward. It was right around now that Sheridan through a very hard, extremely fast crescent kick to Sheridan's left temple, who of course ducked the thunderous blow . . . which connected directly with the Purple Patron of Pedophiles' snout, knocking B'harne on his lavender lard-bucket of an ass. "E broth my noth, tha Theehadee bathard!" howled the Magenta Master of Masturbation, and nearly charged into the fray, were it not for the glares from Lord Grimace and the Empress. "Hey, it's not his fault your boy let him hit you. Besides, you were standing too close," spoke the noble King of UnHellthy Snacks. {{Do *NOT* think of interfering any further in this challange, B'harne. Return to your place NOW.}} The Empress pointed over to a relatively safe spot of the room where the bleeding B'harne could heal his shattered snout. Sheridan, under normal circumstances, would have at least taken the time to throw a verbal jab at the HellWyrm at this point, but he was locked in the hardest, most trying fight of his life. The pair continued to try their utmost to end the life of the other. The pair continued to be frustrated in their attempts. The pair was by now actually growling at each other while the battle raged between them, the harsh and guttural syllables of the Dark Tongue of Chaos underscoring each slash and each parry. "Lord B'harne shall feast upon your soul, weak shadow of myself." "The HellWyrm is without honor. You sacrifice thine own honor in fighting for him. He who has no honor has no strength, and all your victories shall be as hollow as the pit within you that you would DARE to call a soul." "LIAR! Our great lord B'harne is to be the great savior of humanity. He shall unite the universe in love." "Love? You do not know the meaning of love. B'harne seeks to do nothing but consume your soul in order to increase his own diabolical strength." "LIAR! I shall show you his love!" "And I shall show you his darkness!" "Cemetery Gates," _Cowboys from Hell_, Pantera The pair thrust out with their free hands, and dragged each other into the warp, the realm where thoughts and emotions are even more tangible than flesh and blood, and where time and space have no meaning. The realm that the pair call home. "Where are we, Dark servant of foul Khorne?" The two Sheridans took a look around, and saw the blasted and blighted landscape of a long dead world. Both Daemons looked upon the world, one smiling broadly, a proud look upon his face. The other looked as if his heart would break, such was the sorrow that gripped his soul. "We are back at Davlan 4," both said simultaneously. The Dark Sheridan strode forward, a broad smile of fond remembrance stamped upon his face. "Lord B'harne scourged this world of unbelievers. The people would not love him. Thus, he could not share his love with them. This was the price of their folly, Sheridan. If they had love, true love within their souls, this slaughter would never have happened, and the people would forever in peace and harmony." Sheridan thought about that statement. Peace. A word he had not heard in ages. He ached for the chance to put the eternal wars behind him . . . And a chance to end one of the many battles he had lived through was here. Sheridan arose, his duplicate's words obviously having a very powerful effect on him, filling him with even more grief. He strode out onto the blasted plain, and then stopped to dig into the gray, wasted soil. After a couple of minutes of searching he stood to his full height, holding a small child's doll. The grief he felt changed into iron hard resolve. He threw the doll to the Daemon Prince of B'harne's feet, and walked to the Daemon, getting up in his face. "Look at this the doll, Sheridan. Look at it," Sheridan picked the doll as the now seething Prince of the Blood God stood above him, "Does that doll look as if belong to a child who had no love within her heart? Do you believe that her parents had no caring for their beloved daughter? Do you honestly believe that the people who used to live on this plain, once a thriving city, had no friendship? Look at the doll. Can you not imagine a tiny child, with not a care in this world, screaming as her parents were cut down by B'harne's hordes? Did B'harne's soldier's have anything in their heart aside from hatred when they dashed her brains out, not wanting to waste their ammunition?" Sheridan dropped something else he had dug up . . . the skull of a humanoid infant, crushed, as if by the boot of an uncaring warrior. Or more properly, a murderer. "What do you have to say for your god's love now, Sheridan?" Kneeling on the ground, Sheridan wept. His lord had harmed those who could never defend themselves. This world was a testament to the love he offered. Subjugation, domination . . . annihilation. His mind played through the many other battles he remembered. When B'harne's soldiers sacked small agricultural worlds and stole all the food before poisoning the soils and water, so the entire world would be left to starve. Stealing children from their screaming and weeping mothers to be used as grotesque brood mothers for the dark Loved Ones. Lord B'harne himself embracing a child of no more than three, just before ripping open his throat and drinking his life blood. 10,000 years of innocent blood stained his hands and his soul. Sheridan raised his head, the look in his eyes screaming of the dark betrayal his lord had committed in the name of "love", and the crimes he had committed in following his vile lord. "Arise, Iscarius. It is not too late to make amends. It is never too late." Sheridan continued to weep, and Sheridan could see him reaching for something as he knelt. Sheridan's grip on his sword, Cinlach, grew even tighter, and was fully prepared to strike his double down if he tried to do anything foolish. "No, my light brother, for my soul is too stained by the blood I've spilt to ever come clean. I join these people whom I had so badly wronged," the broken Sheridan managed to choke out between his sobs. Then the look on his face hardened as he uttered: "But as the end nears, I ask that you look within yourself." There was a blinding light, as the melta-bomb the Sheridan clone had primed as he knelt detonated. Within a second, all that was left was a charred skeleton, for he no longer had the will to continue with the lie his life had been. Sheridan scooped up the molten corpse, and began digging beside the spot where he had dug before . . . "Epitaph," _Sad Wings of Destiny_, Judas Priest Sheridan returned to the 801 Building, the battles within the top floor having already ended. Sheridan looked around, and looked into thesouls of all the warriors present. He could tell that the battle was finally finished. The mop-up was a blur to him, the events of the past few hours playing over and over in his mind. He was just glad to be back on this, his adopted home world again. He hugged his beloved Windigo in a tight embrace, and all was well with the universe . . . All was well, with one minor, nagging exception . . . "But as the end nears, I ask that you look within yourself . . . " --the end ===================================================================== Commander Sheridan Iscarius of The Chosen of Khorne Triumvir Praetor of the Jihad to Destroy Barney[tm] Shardik The Feral (NYAR!) of the CEMotHA Patron Saint Moire Erasmus of the CoOLoPM Legion SubCommander Sheridan of the LoD, N.O.R.A.D. SMU Warrior Poseiden Hephaestus of the DE/WEDJEE head of Weapon Tech Residing with the Kindred Children in The House of Eternal Night _________________ _____ |_____Shardik_____|=|_OJP_| ===================================================================== "Strike fast and suddenly. Attack without warning. Secure victory before the foe is aware of his danger. Remember always, a war is easily won if your enemy does not know he is fighting." --Maxims of Macharius the Second Lord General Solar quoted in The Macharian Heresy by Lord Inquisitor Kryptman ===================================================================== And remember... Jesus loves you, Cthulhu thinks you need A-1 sauce.