TOS- Vol 2, Pt 3, Ch 33

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 33: Puzzle Pieces

The Overlord stood in her office, back to the door as she stared into the churning flames. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the fire against her face. “Who was he?” she heard his voice from behind, deep and rumbling. A faint smile on her lips was replaced by a troubled, distraught expression on her features- but she tried to hide it with a simple shrug.

“He was like the brother I never had,” the Overlord said simply, her green eyes casting their gaze onto the picture above the fire. She swept her gaze quickly to the final person in the portrait- the one she hadn’t seen in years.

“What happened to him?”

“He just left one day...” the Overlord found her voice quivering. “Gone...” She turned and looked at the Theurgist, her green eyes fighting to keep their usual calmness.

“Did you love him?”

“No.”

“Why did he REALLY leave?”

“What...?”

“You’re lying to yourself, Overlord.”

Her gaze moved to the door as it swung open. Standing in his full suit of armor, the Nemesis loomed in the doorway, machete in hand. With each menacing step, he drew closer to the Theurgist, who stood calmly still. Eyes locked onto the Nemesis, the Theurgist didn’t even seem to budge as the Nemesis pulled his machete back and impaled him- directly into the heart. The Theurgist sank gruesomely to the ground, dead before he hit the wooden floors.

Drawing back in terror, the Overlord held up her hands, trying to summon her scythe, but feeling hopeless- powerless. The Nemesis’ eyes bore into hers, and she felt her entire body become rigid- frozen in horror. As he drew closer, she felt the warmth in her body leave- replaced with an unexplainable chill. He reached out, a gloved hand snagging her neck and lifting her into the air.

---

She couldn’t take it anymore. Bolting upright, the Overlord sat in her room, breathing heavily in comparison to the silence that surrounded Fort Effort. Stumbling from her bed, the Overlord grabbed her staff from where it leaned against the wall, using it to support herself. Hands still trembling, she forced herself toward the window, sliding open the door to the balcony and stepping out. One hand clasping the railing, the Overlord leaned forward, closing her eyes in an attempt to blot out images of the Nemesis.

“You’re not getting much sleep nowadays, are you?” the Theurgist was drifting just a few inches from the window, arms folded rather casually. “You got these nice raccoon rings under your eyes...” he gestured with a glowing finger to his own eyes, a chuckle in his tone.

“Give it a rest,” the Overlord didn’t fight to keep the coldness out of her voice.

“Rest. I’m sure that’s something you’d like to do,” the Theurgist remarked rather lightly. The Overlord turned to face him, brow furrowed in a scowl. He held up his hands, whistling a little tune to himself before continuing, “You know... Dreams always happen for a reason? Did you know that? Sometimes, they’re bits of your subconscious you forgot about. Or things you’re trying to forget about.”

“Well, thanks for that helpful nugget of information,” the Overlord retorted with a huff, returning to glaring down at the barren landscape surrounding Fort Effort, “I’ve been dreaming of your death for weeks now. And I’d rather like to forget it...”

“Is that what you’re trying to forget?” the Theurgist raised an eyebrow, “I think you’re horribly misguided, Overlord Emily Caroline-”

“Enough!” the Overlord glared over her shoulder, “You’re beating around the bush, I can tell. You know something. Now spit it out.”

“That’s not very polite,” the Theurgist remarked.

“It’s three in the freaking morning.”

“Noted...”

There was a pause, simple, yet meaningful. The Theurgist’s eyes flitted about the room, his transparent self wavering before her. He seemed perplexed a moment, debating between various logics, before stating, “There’s something you’re missing. A piece to the puzzle. And it’s very important that you see this.”

“Oh goodie,” the Overlord retorted, “What’s so important that it has to be shown to me immediately?”

“You’re not going to like it. You’re going to hate it. Trust me,” the Theurgist added with a tinge of sympathy in his voice.

“That’s reassuring,” the Overlord’s voice was flooded with sarcasm.

“You’ll learn to accept it...” the Theurgist remarked, “You’ll have to.” He extended a glowing hand, as if to offer her a handshake. The Overlord hesitated, then made a move to grab the Theurgist’s hand, though the instant her palm made contact with his, she was thrown back by a blindingly green aura, her back slamming into the ground.

Senses jarred, the Overlord lay on her back momentarily, blinking a few times and staring at the empty, slightly blurred navy sky. A veil of gray seemed to cloud everything around her, creating an effect as though she were looking through a fogged window. The Overlord sat up, leaning back with her hands propping her up. The gardens were a well-known place, a place of her youth in Tamashii. It was the old training grounds, littered with small pools filled with koi. Bamboo and trees scattered about the hollow, framing it and occasionally sprouting in clumps around the meadow. The Overlord ran a hand over the wispy, unclear blades of grass, feeling how unnaturally smooth it was.

A shadow in the grayed settings caused her to whip around and stand in one fluid motion. She looked at the enigmatic figure as it strode forward, slowly taking a clearer stance in the fogged version of the training gardens. “Theurgist,” the Overlord realized, lowering her guard. As he came closer, his image became brighter, clearer, contrasting as she did against the Tamashii gardens. She held up a hand, as if trying to grab wisps of the gray fog that drifted through the air. “It’s like everything’s smeared. Like we’re in a painting.”

“Well, it’s your mind. You get to decide how things work,” the Theurgist retorted, “Maybe you should lay off the acid, Overlord.”

“This is Tamashii. Why am I here?” the Overlord asked, arms folded, “Why are WE here? ... And if this is MY mind, why are YOU in it?”

“I’m your spirit guide, I can do that,” the Theurgist replied with a toothy grin. His demeanor grew serious, however, and he gestured to the fogged gardens, “Your memory isn’t as sharp as I’d had hoped. You can’t even remember your own training grounds? Try describing them to me. Maybe it’ll clear everything up.”

“It’s been awhile...” the Overlord remarked, “There were little pools everywhere. Stones to walk across them. Frogs. Fish. Bamboo everywhere. Lily pads, the fresh scent of cut bamboo. Every now and then, you could hear the sounds of katanas clanging against each other as people practiced. It was still one of the most peaceful places in Tamashii. I’d come here a lot with my platoon just to hang out...”

“Your platoon,” the Theurgist moved on rather abruptly, “The Ninja-Lord was in it for a short period of time?”

“Toward the end, yeah. But usually, it was me, Thomas, and Warwick,” the Overlord glanced over her shoulder at the Theurgist, “Why do you-”

“The night you fell into the Overlord’s Sanctum... What happened?”

The Overlord noticed that the gardens were growing clearer, brighter- as though she were truly in the training grounds of the Ninja Academy. She held up a hand, noting how the contrast between her image and the rest of the parallel world was nonexistent anymore, “We were chasing the Operatic Werewolf,” She began, drawing in a deep breath, “I wasn’t paying attention. I fell in- tripped over a branch, misguided a leap to a tree, I don’t remember which. But the important part? I wake up underwater, and all I can hear is a voice telling me that ‘destiny had selected me’ or something like that. Then I saw Jesus Christ. No joke. He was looking pretty good. So we talked. Then he said something about ‘powers awakening’, and the next thing I knew, I was on the shore of the pool, coughing up a lung with Thomas next to me. Warwick said he’d tried to pull me out but fell in himself. Warwick had waded in to get us.” She paused, taking in a small breath before exhaling loudly, “We were all given powers that day. Or something happened to us. None of us were the same.”

“That’s an excellent observation,” the Theurgist inclined his head. The Overlord thought to chide him for his snarky remark, but she didn’t. Instead, she allowed him to continue, “You heard of the Uberlord then. You heard that there were forces to be rallied- this was your destiny. To thwart his plans to take over the entirety of the Between so that Death was inaccessible.”

“Thomas, Warwick, and I all knew. We... decided to fight him together,” the Overlord’s voice was very faint, as if recollecting the day when she had spoken to the other two Tamashii ninjas.

“Why did Warwick leave?”

“He wanted to go solo.”

“That’s a lie.”

The Theurgist’s voice was sharp, cold, even a tad menacing. Glancing at him, the Overlord found herself braced, as though prepared to take some sort of physical blow from the spirit guide. The words ‘why can’t you remember’ were being repeated, over and over again, but barely audible. The Overlord drew back a step in fear. He clenched his fist in frustration, pacing, then, almost shouting, “The night he left, where were you?”

“I was in my room!”

“No.”

“I wasn’t here?”

“No!”

“I was... in the gardens?”

The Theurgist stopped, looking at her as though she’d made some sort of break through. Shuffling her feet, the Overlord glanced at the ground, her boot nudging a twig that lay in the midst of the jade grass. “I was in the gardens...” She repeated, glancing up at the Theurgist uncertainly, as though she was some child getting scolded, “He was telling me about how... He was strong. And we could all get stronger. He was telling me about his plans. His dreams.”

Wavering before the two were images, fuzzy and blurred, but growing ever clear. A youthful Overlord stood, Kagi slung in her belt and her long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Adjacent to her, stood Warwick, his dark burgundy hair cut short with a slight poof atop his forehead. He was clad in black as she was, a katana on the left side of his waist.

“Ems...” Warwick glanced at her, voice light and airy, “The Between... What do you think it’s like?”

“I’d imagine that it’s... Well, not like here,” Emily replied with a light-hearted laugh, glancing up at Warwick fondly, “I mean, it’s a whole different realm, right? Maybe... The people that live there are blue. And have really long legs. And fangs. Or something.”

“That’d be freaky,” Warwick laughed, shaking his head, “I’m concerned, though, about our cause.”

“Well, I think we all are,” Emily replied, maintaining the same nonchalant attitude. “I can’t believe we’re going behind Sensei’s back and doing this. It seems... Wrong. But at the same time, it feels like it’s the right thing to do, you know?”

“So even wrong things... Can be right?” Warwick asked, one of his eyebrows quirking.

“I guess it’s just a matter of perspective,” Emily shrugged, gazing up at a flickering, halfway clouded full moon. She and Warwick stood for a few moments, the Overlord and the Theurgist watching, invisible to the memories before them. There was the subtlest creep of Warwick’s hand onto the hilt of his katana, so liquid-like that it seemed natural. Emily was oblivious, “Kinda like how the glass is either half empty or half full.”

Warwick chuckled coolly, “I suppose you’re right.” He turned, effortlessly drawing his katana and pointing it at her, the blade giving off a pale blue shine as the moonlight struck it. The Japanese character for the word ‘ice’ glinted especially bright, causing Emily to draw back.

“W-what are you doing?” Emily asked, grabbing the hilt of Kagi as she drew back a step, “We’re not supposed to be training this late.”

“This isn’t training,” Warwick replied, “This is me establishing my dominance over you now, then Thomas later.” At Emily’s confused look, he added with a laugh, “What would have happened if all three of us stood at the Uberlord’s throne together? A peaceful reign of two Lords and one Lady? I don’t intend to share power once I’ve taken it.”

“You can’t do this to me,” Emily scoffed, “You... You called me your sister!” She argued, pulling out her katana reluctantly. Warwick shrugged callously, offering an unsympathetic.

“Well, things change. I get the Between. You’ll just be... the tool in which I carve my empire with.”

“And how do you suppose you’re going to do that?” Emily snarled suddenly. The Overlord was shaking where she stood, drawing back even further. The Theurgist planted a firm hand on her shoulder, urging for her to stay and watch.

“Your soul is mine.”

The two katanas clashed at once, Warwick propelling himself forward and knocking Emily back. She backflipped, then counterattacked quickly, Kagi’s blade emitting a trail of flames with each strike. Warwick’s own sword was pulsating, clumps of frost spraying out from his strikes. It became evident immediately to the Overlord that her past self was relying on a series of speed attacks to thwart the heavier-set fighter, who was merely focused upon blocking the onslaught of strikes. As Emily moved to strike Warwick’s head, he took this moment to grab her by the sleeve, throwing her to the side with relative ease. She turned, his blade stabbing the air next to her side, then kicked him in the stomach, sending him back.

A few more blows were exchanged- a cut to Emily’s side warranted after making a miscalculation in her dodging techniques. Blood sprayed the grass from her side, trickling down her hip and onto her leg. Warwick suffered a stunning blow to the forehead from Kagi’s hilt, then a slice to the leg. He hobbled a few moments before unleashing a blast of ice at the lithe girl. She countered by sending an orb of flame, the fire blocking his attack entirely. More strikes were given back and forth, the occasional spell only lighting up the gardens. Evidently, Warwick was thrown back by Emily, her blade dripping crimson as she prepped to impale him through the chest.

“I don’t want to kill you!” Emily screamed, her entire body trembling. “You’re my-” She was thrown back before she could finish the phrase, an icicle cutting through her shoulder, and traveling to strike the trunk of a nearby tree- a clear hole in the midst of her flesh. She grabbed the gaping wound, gasping in a concoction of shock and horror.

Her foe rose from the ground casually, though his pale eyes were full of malice. “You stupid little girl,” Warwick snapped, “Clinging onto your delusions of family and love. You should really learn to let that go, Ems. It makes life a hell of a lot less painful.”

“No one... Betrays me... And gets away with it,” Emily replied vehemently, her eyes clouding over to where her pupils were, at first, dilated, then almost invisible entirely.

“Saevio,” the Theurgist breathed. But as Emily lunged forward, a jet of ice consumed her left leg, pinning her to the ground. Her blade was alight in fire, stabbing through the ice but it was too late. Though she shook with unmatchable energy, Warwich was faster, his katana plunging into her stomach. The Theurgist winced, “... Or so you tried.”

Pupil-less and writhing on Warwick’s sword, the young ninja’s scream tore through the air, cutting deep into the Overlord’s chest. She found herself rooted to the spot, unable to look away as Warwick whispered, “You will bow to me.” He slid the sword from her effortless, not even watching as the blood began to spill from the gaping wound. The half-crazed Emily lay on the ground, panting and trembling uncontrollably, her fingers gripping the earth so tightly that she ripped blades of grass from their roots. “You will worship me...” Warwick walked away, boots tapping lightly against the ground. Emily forced herself to stand, sword discarded on the ground. An orb of fire, mixed with strands of black essence, danced within her palm secretly. She breathed heavily, angrily, as if she were a maddened beast. “... And you will serve me.”

“Vereor!” The orb was fired at Warwick in a deafening explosion. Warwick flew back, unmoving for a few moments as he lay facing the clouded sky. Emily stood, slightly bent over in exhaustion. Grabbing her sword from where it lay, she ran at Warwick, leaping up and angling her blade down to stab him. Warwick’s hand raised and a bolt of ice knocked her from midair, causing her to flip and land on her back just a few feet above his head.

“No!” the Overlord yelled, finding something was stinging at the corners of her eyes. Tears? She couldn’t believe it- and she’d never admit it.

Warwick crawled over to where Emily lay, some golden orb coming into view just above her chest. Her pupils had returned to normal, the bloodloss beginning to effect her. She twitched, spasmed, and writhed, hands shaking to the point where she could not hold her sword.

“You have lost... Sister,” Warwick hissed, reaching down to grab her soul as it wavered before him. She gasped, a few droplets of blood running down from her nostrils and landing near the corners of her mouth.

“No...” Emily whispered. “No... Please...”

“You can’t beg... It’ll happen either way,” Warwick laughed, tinges of insanity creeping into his voice. His fingers wrapped around her soul, and she began to feel a tug.

“NO!” the Overlord screamed, covering her eyes and sinking to the ground. “Damn it!” Feeling tears flood from her eyes onto the wooden floor of her room inside Fort Effort, the Overlord was unable to look up, even though the grass from the Tamashii gardens had faded from view. A few moments were spent on the ground of the room, shaking and clutching herself as though she’d seen her worst fears come alive. As she looked up at the Theurgist, she saw that he had become transparent again, and merely watched her sympathetically.

Silence ensued, and the Overlord forced herself to sit in a chair, though was unable to speak. Her eyes were tearful, blotchy, and she felt weak- weak for crying in front of her spirit guide. But still, there was one question that remained, “... So what happened?”

“You refused to see the ending. So I’ll tell you...” the Theurgist said calmly, “Before he could take your soul... Thomas arrived. With Sensei and a few others. Warwick fled that night. No one had seen or heard of him since. You were unconscious for half of a week after that. They didn’t think you were going to make it.” The Overlord felt sick to her stomach- sick at how calm he sounded, and sick that she hadn’t been able to remember. “When you awoke, they asked you if you remembered what had happened to you. I’m sure that’s even fuzzy still...” The Theurgist’s voice grew softer, “The experience was apparently too traumatic for your mind to accept- his betrayal, especially. So the Tamashii elders lied and said that Warwick had run away from home to seek a different life. They lied to you so that you wouldn’t have to remember.”

The Overlord sat there, absorbing the information. Staring out the window at where the sun was creeping on the horizon, she asked absent-mindedly, “Why did you tell me this?”

“Because now you know what you face when you return to the Fortress, Overlord. The same thing you faced that night, but this time...” the Theurgist replied, “You’re both stronger.”

“Warwick is the Nemesis,” the Overlord stated hollowly, “... Damn it, Thomas, why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered, eyes closed and head bowed. “He wants my soul. Just like before. He wants the Fortress and the Between. Just like before. Why didn’t I see it earlier?”

“You didn’t know. You didn’t remember,” the Theurgist replied calmly, “And now you do. Now you know why you must be the one to defeat the Nemesis. You’re the only one that can, Emily.”

The Overlord stood up and walked to look out of the window, “He’ll pay for what’s he’s done to me. He’ll pay for what he’s done to you.” Her fist shook, and she slammed it against the window pane in frustration, “Today... We rally all of the ANF forces. We begin our assault against the Nemesis. And when I’m done with him...” She let her voice trail off, emotionlessly as she gazed at where Kagi lay on a desk, blade concealed by a sheath.

“Hell hath no fury... Like the Overlord.”

END OF PART THREE

TOS - Vol 2, Pt 3, Ch 32

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 32: Impromptu

The Apprentice was having trouble sleeping. Though she couldn’t erase the events from the previous day from her mind, she found that her dreams actually didn’t involve the brutal slaying of the blacksmith. No, instead, they involved being watched. Everywhere she turned, there was a man in a black robe. And he was watching her. Always watching. She couldn’t shut her eyes without seeing him, his emotionless gaze locked on her. The second night since the murder, the Apprentice was resting easier, however, than she had the night before. Previously, she’d spent the majority of the night counting up the armor and weapons that had been stolen from Skingrad. There was quite the collection now, and she suspected that they would be bidding Cyrodiil farewell soon. And she was glad- perhaps she’d leave behind the dreams of the eerie robed man, too.

Sitting up in her bed, the Apprentice rubbed her eyes, glancing over at where Jamie was snoring softly in the bed next to hers. And beyond her was the Evocator, curled up with a book under her arm- the Theurgist’s journal. The Apprentice sighed, then looked over to her other side, at where the Animal Tamer was sleeping. However, her view was blocked... By a large, black form. Slowly craning her head back, the Apprentice found herself staring at a partially concealed face- the face of a man draped in black robes.

“You sleep soundly for a murderer,” the man whispered excitedly, eyes alight with emotion, but a kind that the Apprentice did not want to see. There was a scream. There was a bolt of lightning. And then, the Apprentice was looking down upon the robed man once more, her eyes wide in shock and her hands clinging onto the railing of the bed frame.

That night, Jamie decided it was best if they departed from Cyrodiil at once.


---


Fort Effort was bustling with activity the following morning. Fish and McCoy were still in poor shape, though the Sorceress had arrived and had begun seeing to the two injured ANF soldiers. The Twin had taken charge of the ANF alongside Jamie, and both had come to the agreement that they needed to begin equipping the soldiers, despite the Overlord’s absence. This caused a tremendous amount of chaos, as the waiting line to receive better armor grew as the hours went on. Rather annoyed with the mayhem in Fort Effort, the Ninja-Lord walked alongside the Twin and Jamie, listening to their concerns.

“No contact. In about a week now,” the Twin remarked, glancing at Jamie worriedly, “I’ve half a mind to send the Ninja Squadron after her. Ninja-Lord, would you protest?”

“Of course not,” the Ninja-Lord replied, “If she’d not answering her cellphone...”

“It’s not just that, it’s the Soul-Keeper’s, too. And the Advisor’s,” Jamie explained. “Then again, the Sorceress said that she’d talked to them yesterday at her lair. They have to be okay.”

“But they didn’t come back from the base. What if DIB has them right now?” the Twin sighed, “What if the Nemesis has her? I would... No. I would not allow that.”

“Maybe wait a day...?” the Ninja-Lord suggested with a simple shrug.

“OY!” a loud voice boomed down the hall. All three girls spun around to see the Lieutenant waving his arms about in the air. “The Overlord’s at the gates! Captain’s letting her in now! She says she hasn’t found the last Elite member yet!”

“Venice,” the Twin groaned, “Of course.”

“Who?” the Ninja-Lord inquired.

“She was a grand warrior a long time ago. Used to lead the Elite, but she vanished right after the Great War. She taught the Overlord a few special tactics with a sword. No one’s seen her in ages,” the Twin explained rapidly, “The Scholar mentioned that she’d last been seen on a world called Spira. But that was a long time ago.” Looking at the Lieutenant, the Twin nodded, “Tell her to meet me in the meeting room. We’ll go over our plan then. It’s high time we strike the Nemesis.”

“Will do!” the Lieutenant saluted her smartly, then vanished down the corridor.

“Well, she’s back now,” Jamie nodded, “That solves one crisis.”

“And opens a lot more problems. I hope she’s okay. You know she’s been acting odd ever since the Theurgist died,” the Twin remarked. “It’s like she’s distracted.”

“No. She’s not distracted, trust me,” the Ninja-Lord replied, “If anything? She’s focused. But she... Doesn’t want to face the Nemesis. Not yet. Why? I don’t know. I suspect she’s scared. Because something happened when the Nemesis attacked. Something she hasn’t told us.”

“She said she almost died,” Jamie said with a shrug, “That’s more than enough motivation to be scared.”

“Hm. But not for her,” the Ninja-Lord remarked, “That’s not the Overlord I know.”

---


The meeting hall was crowded, yet quiet. The Overlord sat at the head of the table with Jamie, the Twin, Elwell, and a few of the other ANF leaders. She rested her chin on a clutched fist, elbow pressing into the table. Down the sides of the table rested the Overling Council, each armed adequately and adorned with new armor. The Overlord eyed the fresh robes that the Soul-Keeper was sporting, the ANF insignia on his cape.

“I do approve of the new uniforms, by the way,” the Overlord remarked lightly, straightening up, then glancing down at where the Scholar sat. She and the Scholar had already discussed the Nemesis’ plans- though the Overlord couldn’t say she was surprised. It seemed cliche, almost to the point of flat-out ripping off from other criminals. The Overlord had told herself that she would not allow the Nemesis to win, and she knew she was going to stand by those words, even if it took years to take him down. Clearing her throat, the Overlord began, “You said you’ve heard from Venice?”

“She’s on Spira, so I’ve heard,” the Scholar replied, “She regularly attends concerts, specifically ones performed by the new pop sensation Yuna. There’s actually a concert that Venice has tickets for that’s in the next day.”

“So we find her at this concert?” the Overlord asked, leaning back in her chair, “Easy enough.”

“Not so fast, there’s a catch.”

“Of course.”

“Concert’s sold out. And there’s no way to get in unless you’re the songstress yourself,” the Scholar shuffled a few papers around in front of her. “Now, Spira is reliant on a type of technology called ‘Dresspheres’. Dresspheres are outfits that have been made from memories, right? I merely extracted a few memories from hardcore Yuna fans, and received a dressphere of my own. She always performs in the same dress.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” the Overlord’s voice dropped to monotone and dull, staring at the Scholar from across the table.

“Let’s face it. You look kinda like her. Granted, your hair needs to be cut and dyed a bit, but you could easily pass for her. In the right outfit, the right lighting- you’ll be a perfect Yuna,” the Scholar folded her hands rather politely, staring at the Overlord evenly.

“Uhhh there’s no way I’m doing this. I can’t even sing!” the Overlord exclaimed.

“I’ve made arrangements. The Captain and the Lieutenant will nab the real Yuna. The Apprentice has karaoke powers? She can cover the singing and the music will be live. We have an instructional video for choreography, so you can learn that today. All you have to do is look like you’re her,” the Scholar shrugged, “And then, you find a way to get Venice backstage with you, then explain the situation.”

The Overlord stared across the table at the Overling council members. ‘This might be fun’, she thought for a brief moment, rubbing her forehead, ‘But this is something that the Soul-Keeper will never let me live down’. She glanced at the Twin, “What do you think?”

“It’s the only way. Either we do it and get Venice, or we don’t and fight DIB without her,” the Twin shrugged.

Sighing, the Overlord stood up from the table, glancing sideways at the giggling Evocator, Soul-Keeper, and Animal Tamber. “... As long as no one films this and puts it on Youtube... Eh, why not?”

“That’s the spirit!” the Scholar threw an arm around the Overlord, “Now, we need to get your hair cut, a Garment Grid for the dressphere, and you need to start learning the Real Emotion dance! This’ll be fun!”

The Overlord immediately felt a pang of regret.

---

Spira proved to be an odd world indeed. Though the previous night had been spent at Fort Effort, the Overlord had been doing some hardcore research on Spira and its inhabitants, concluding that anyone in their right mind would steer clear of the place. Such thought made her fear for Venice’s sanity. What if her old friend and mentor had lost her mind completely? Walking the streets of Luca, some harbor city that seemed to be the hub of sports and entertainment, the Overlord found herself running her hands through her now significantly shorter hair. It had been weeks since she’d spiked it last, letting it fall straight and down. Her hair was now lighter as well, with a more burgundy tint to it, though it was hardly different than Yuna’s own hair color. A few blonde streaks ran through it, contrasting to the dark brown it had been.

“The fashion here isn’t the greatest,” the Ninja-Lord was in a disguise as well, though had shirked the more skankily clad Spira clothes. She wore a yellow suite of some sort, decorated with buckles and red plates of armor. A set of goggles sat atop her head, adding onto the oddness.

“What beggar did you take that get-up from?” the Overlord snorted, though, knew her own elegant robes were a little out-of-fashion.

“Funny. The Scholar told me to give you this,” the Ninja-Lord handed the Overlord a small circular device with a few gaping crevasses in its middle. “It’s a Garment Grid. Apparently, you put the dresspheres in them... There’s four in there now. I don’t know what the other three are, but this one...” she pointed at the one in the middle, “... Is the Songstress one.”

“Great...” the Overlord took the Garment Grid, then pocketed it, “Any word from the Captain and the Lieutenant?”

“They have, as they call it... ‘bagged a ho’,” the Ninja-Lord grinned, “Looks like we’re on for tonight.”

“Great,” the Overlord nodded, “I’ve about had enough of that song and the dance to last me awhile. Guess I’ll be ready for the big performance.” She sighed running her hand through her spiked hair one last time, “I haven’t had enough Monsters for this.”

“The Scholar wanted me to remind you that we’ll have extra body guards around the place. She’s stationed the Soul-Keeper and Sexist at one entrance, me and the Twin in another, and the Captain and the Lieutenant are guarding your dressing room. Jamie is running security on the second floor. The Apprentice will be out of sight somewhere near you. Your back-up dancers are the Witch and Kunoichi.”

“Fitting,” the Overlord nodded, “Let’s hope this works... Why so much security?”

“Just to be safe,” the Ninja-Lord shrugged, “Wouldn’t want you to get trampled by a thousand dedicated fans, now would we?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” the Overlord scowled, “Why did I sign up for this?”


---


The day had flown by rather quickly for everyone. Patrolling the halls, Centurion Ifill walked in her guards’ outfit, pike in hand. She glanced around the corner, looking at where some of the fans were flooding into the concert hall. On her walkie-talkie, she discreetly said, “Centurion Ifill, in position. It’s about to be showtime. I have a lot of fans coming in from the north.” She stopped, taking note of Belarus and China on the far side of the crowd. “Security staff is present and prepared for anything. How’s the second floor?”

A few seconds later, there came a reply, “Quiet,” it was the Animal Tamer’s Pet, “Well, not quiet... but there’s no trouble. Just a lot of fans.”

“I hear ya.” It was Underling Willma who spoke next.

“Main entrance is clear.” Sexist, no doubt with the Soul-Keeper somewhere by the front. Centurion Ifill nodded to herself, glancing up at the fans as they entered. Something caught her eye, however, a particular uniform. Dark eyes narrowed, she began to follow the crowd in, stepping into the auditorium as a particularly slender man started down the stairs. Fighting back a gasp of surprise, Centurion Ifill turned, fought her way through some of the fans, grasping her walkie talkie.

“Code Red. I have a visual on Jester,” Centurion Ifill whispered. “Red hair, skinny as can be, jeans that cling onto his butt like a girl- it has to be him.”

“What floor?” the Twin asked, “Hold on... Ninja-Lord, those are DIB soldiers!”

“Ohhhhh boy,” Centurion Ifill remarked, “DIB soldiers are here? What for?”

“Probably know what’s up,” Jamie sighed from her end of the walkie talkie. “Sexist, Soul-Keeper, shut off the doors once the last fans are in. We’ll trap them in here. We have half the army in this concert hall, we can fight them off here.”

“There’s innocent people here!” the Evocator protested suddenly, “We can’t just...!”

“We can. And we will if we have to,” the Twin said firmly, “But only if we have to. Don’t go charging into a fight. And don’t tell the Overlord. She’s nervous enough already.”

“Don’t tell her? That sounds like a GREAT idea,” Sexist remarked sourly.

“The show must go on!” the Soul-Keeper said dramatically, “And WE have to make sure it does!”

“... Colby, you’re insane,” the Evocator stated flatly, and the conversation ended.

---


It was show time before she knew it. Glancing at the Garment Grid, the Overlord activated the central orb, causing her outfit to alter into a sleek purple and white dress. She glanced down at the outfit, noticing her mid-drift was showing. In the mirror, she looked at herself, feeling very unnatural in the dressing room. Turning to leave, she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye. Spinning around, grabbing her sword, unsheathing it, and pointing it at the person, she yelled something, but it was incoherent.

“Relax,” the Theurgist sounded amused, “I just got here. I haven’t been watching you change, promise.”

“Not helping,” the Overlord retorted, but sheathed Kagi. “Where’ve you been anyways? I was looking for you.” She was suddenly reminded of the haunted mansion and shuddered, recalling the twisted version of the Theurgist she had seen at the end of her venture. “Off on some spirit thing?”

“You could say that,” the Theurgist stroked his facial hair thoughtfully, “We need to talk, but after you’re done with your...” He eyed the outfit skeptically, “... Thing.”

“My thing? That’s very eloquent,” the Overlord retorted.

“Well, for once, you’ve rendered my vocabulary useless. I have no idea what to call whatever it is you’re wearing,” the Theurgist retorted.

“Try ‘dress’, Alexi,” the Overlord responded with her usual cynicism.

“Okay. Dress,” the Theurgist chuckled, arms folded.

From outside, the Captain could be heard, “HEY! You talkin’ to yourself in there? It’s about time to go! Witch and Kunoichi are already on the stage!” The Overlord glanced from the door to the Theurgist, shrugging. The Theurgist grinned then waved at her.

“Break a leg.”

“Oh you know it.”

Opening the door and stepping out into the hall, the Overlord didn’t look at the Lieutenant and the Captain, “I feel like I’m about to go poledance,” she remarked, then continued down the hall with a rather sullen expression. When she reached the door to the stage, she cast a glance back over her shoulder at where the Theurgist was giving her a partially see-through ‘thumbs up’. She flashed him a very fake, very sour looking smile, then stepped onto the circular stage.

It was then that the Overlord realized that Spiran technology was more advanced than Earthian technology. The stage, a brightly-lit circle, ascended into the air, poised several feet above the first row. The Overlord wondered, briefly, if they could look up her skirt, and felt extremely self-conscious. ‘But it’s not me they’re looking at. It’s Yuna... So that makes it better... Right? Right?’ The more logical half of her answered, ‘Wrong.’

She knew the music was about to begin. Glancing at where the Witch and Kunoichi were both in their own disguises, she offered a half-smile, catching sight of Apprentice just below them. What happened next, the Overlord was unsure, but some glow in the Apprentice’s eyes caught her attention, transfixing her entirely.

“Overlord?” the Witch asked very quietly, but her voice was lost in the screams of the fans.

“It’s showtime!” the Overlord announced, and the roar of the crowd filled the auditorium.

---

Sexist and the Soul-Keeper had shut off the entrance to the stadium, and were standing in the doorway on the first floor. “What is she wearing?” the Soul-Keeper snorted with laughter, arms tucked into the sleeves of his guard outfit. Sexist, who was leaning passively against the doorway, shrugged carelessly, though watched in interest as the music began playing.

“There’s a place downtown where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free-for-all
When they, they, they...”

“That’s not the right song!” the Soul-Keeper’s eyes widened in horror. Sexist perked up and looked at the stage in confusion.

“What is she doing!?” Sexist muttered, brow furrowed.

“When the dark of the night
Comes around, that’s the time
That the animal comes alive
Looking for something wild.”

“N-now we lookin’ like pimps
In my gold Trans-AM
Got a water bottle full of whiskey in my hand bag
Got my drunk text on
I’ll regret it in the morning
But tonight, I don’t give a, I don’t give a, I don’t give a-”

“There’s a place downtown
Where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free-for-all
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off!”

“There’s a place I know
If you’re looking for a show
Where they go hardcore
And there’s glitter on the floor
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off.”

“Oh my God, what is she SINGING!?” Sexist added incredulously. He gazed across the crowd, but they all seemed to be enjoying it... Except... “The DIB soldiers...” Sexist grabbed the Soul-Keeper’s arm suddenly, pointing at where Jester was watching the Overlord perform in suspicion. As Jester’s eyes swept across the area, Sexist ducked, dragging the Soul-Keeper with him. “This isn’t good. They’re going to realize it’s the wrong singer.”

“She’s really rocking out up there...” the Soul-Keeper remarked.

“Will you focus!?” Sexist hissed angrily, grabbing the Soul-Keeper’s arm.

“Lose your mind
Lose it now
Lose your clothes in the crowd
We’re delirious
Tear it down
‘Til the sun comes back around.”

“Now we’re gettin’ so smashed
Knockin’ over trashcans
E’erybody breakin’ bottles
It’s a filthy hot mess and
Gonna get faded
I’m not the designated driver so
I don’t give a, I don’t give a, I don’t give a-”

“There’s a place downtown
Where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free-for-all
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off!”

“There’s a place I know
If you’re looking for a show
Where they go hardcore
And there’s glitter on the floor
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off.”

“Oh, oh, oh
Everybody take it off
Oh, oh, oh
Everybody take it off
Right now- Take it off
Right now- Take it off
Right now- Take it off
Oh!”

As that was repeating, Sexist caught a glimpse of the Twin on the far side of the concert, looking as confused as he was. He tried to catch her attention, but realized that Jester had seen her as well. As Jester grabbed a knife, Sexist launched an icicle at the DIB member, pushing over a Spiran as he did so. The Soul-Keeper pulled out his staff and began firing bolts of lightning at the DIB soldiers as they drew their weapons. The Twin drew her bowstring back and fired as Jester recovered from the blow. He knocked the arrow aside with a dagger, then launched a throwing knife at the Twin.

“ANF members! Attack!” Jamie yelled through the walkie talkie.

As the DIB members rallied, the ANF members began to take their battle positions. Jamie jumped from the second floor, grabbing onto a nearby railing with lights and slid down, drawing her pistol and firing at Jester as he rushed at the Twin. Sexist pinned a soldier to the ground with his claymore, then looked up as the Overlord finished off the song.

“There’s a place downtown
Where the freaks all come around
It’s a hole in the wall
It’s a dirty free-for-all
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off!”

“There’s a place I know
If you’re looking for a show
Where they go hardcore
And there’s glitter on the floor
And they turn me on
When they take it off
When they take it off
Everybody take it off.”


“You’ll never find her!” Jester sneered, drawing a sword from its sheath at his side. “She’s ours!” He turned to face Sexist, gnashing his teeth together angrily.

“You have Venice!?” the Twin aimed another arrow at his back.

“Took her as she entered the concert. Probably halfway to the bottom of the ocean by now,” Jester spat at her, moving to where he could see both Sexist and the Twin. “Stupid ANF... Can’t even set up a proper security system...”

“No. The Venice I know wouldn’t be caught by a scrawny-ass punk like you,” the Twin sneered back, releasing the arrow. Jester turned and sliced it in half, but was unprepared for Sexist’s charge. A gush of water struck him in the side, knocking him away into the crowd. By this time, the crowd had begun to panic in the midst of the battle. Gunshots were being fired, and mayhem was starting to ensue. The Overlord was partially collapsed on the stage, halfway dazed and watching the events from above in horror and fascination.

“The ‘Venice’ you know? She’s sorta standing right behind you,” a voice added. The Twin turned and looked at a slender figure as she stepped from the shadows, sword drawn in one hand and covered to the handle in crimson. Her medium brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, her armor smeared with sanguine as though it had been splatter-painted. “Sorry. Had to rough a few guys up in the alley,” She didn’t sound remotely apologetic.

“Damn it!” Jester swore, holding his sword so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Ugh... Why can’t I ever do anything right?”

“Hey emo bitch, go cry yourself to sleep,” the Captain had appeared, rocket launcher over his shoulder. As he fired, Jester vanished in a puff of smoke, warping out of the way. Venice and the Twin threw themselves to the side, Sexist moving behind a pillar to avoid the missile as it hit the side of the stadium.

“We should... Probably go now...” the Soul-Keeper stammered. “Someone grab the Overlord, she looks lost.” He gestured with his staff to where the Overlord was standing on stage still, a far-off glint in her eyes.

“W-what happened?” the Overlord stammered as Jamie began guiding her away from the stage gently. “Why don’t I remember...?”

“Shhh... It’s quiet time, Emmy,” Jamie patted the Overlord’s head gently with one hand, snatching the Apprentice’s hood with the other. Although attempting to give her a scolding look, Jamie couldn’t help but crack a smile. Hissing under her breath, Jamie remarked, “You could’ve at least picked a decent song.”

“Eh. What can I say?” the Apprentice retorted with an uncertain chuckle.

TOS - Vol 2, Pt 3, Ch 31

The Overlord Saga

Vol II. Versus

Chapter 31: Twisted

The Overlord awoke without a start, but with a giant headache. She groaned, rolled over onto her side and blinked, realizing she was not on the usual prisoner’s cot, but on a bed. She forced herself to slip from the mattress and onto the ground, her feet wobbling as she tried to support herself. The staff appeared in her hand and she used it to stable herself. Moving to the door from what looked like some odd bedroom, the Overlord found herself in a small stone corridor, curving around to an unknown destination. She began to walk, only because she felt unnerved by the thought of what could happen if she stood still.

Her pace quickened, breathing parallel, and eyes darting toward the shadows. As she glanced over her shoulder in paranoia, the hallway curved suddenly, snaking around and catching her off guard. Slamming straight into something, she, at first, believed she had hit a wall. A few moments later, it dawned on her that she had run straight into someone’s back. Staggering back a few paces, the Overlord’s right hand summoned an orb of flame, lightning the dim corridor.

“What the hell!?” the Overlord demanded, the fiery orb pulsing with an unseen animosity.

“Oh,” a brief pause. “You’re awake.”

Vision snapping into place, the Overlord took notice of the long, flowing navy robes that draped over the woman’s torso, stretching down to the floor and covering her feet. The woman’s hair was an inch or two past shoulder-length, a mixture between brown and blonde, and framed her face. She had a pair of glasses that sat neatly atop her nose, giving her a more intellectual look than the goons that stood behind her, who were far more rough and brutish. Her left hand was on her hip, her right hand carrying a well-designed metal staff that was topped with some clear sphere.

“Sorceress,” the Overlord said suddenly, eyes stretched wide in realization. The orb of fire vanished instantly, and she lowered her guard, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Way to trespass onto my territory,” the Sorceress remarked, her voice not edged with the usual friendliness that the Overlord was used to. Brows furrowed, the Overlord’s shoulders tensed, debating on whether or not she should summon the fire back. The Sorceress flung her arms around the Overlord suddenly, taking her off guard, “Chica, I missed you!” The Overlord grinned in response and hugged the Sorceress back.

“Scared me for a moment,” the Overlord chuckled, then released the Sorceress, “So... You were the guys that ambushed us?”

“Yeah, we thought you were... Someone else,” the Sorceress said, slightly abashed, “But, hey, whatever, it’s cool now, I guess, right?” She sounded overly hopeful, but the Overlord wasn’t about to make any moves to anger her.

“Sure,” the Overlord shrugged, “So long as you bail me out of some trouble.”

“DIB?” the Sorceress asked, quirking an eyebrow and catching the Overlord by surprise. Before she could ask, however, the Sorceress explained, “They were by here. A group of them. Looking for you. We thought you guys were them, so we attacked. Their leader wasn’t the nicest of people...”

“The Nemesis...?”

“No. Some scrawny, pissy guy.”

“Oh. Jester.”

“Yeah, that was his name.” There was a pause of silence as the Sorceress motioned for the Overlord to follow her. As the two began down the stone hall, the Sorceress began talking once more, “Your friends... The boys... they were half-crazed when we got them here. Kept ranting and raving about these hallucinations they were having. Took me a bit to realize they’d consumed some of the local cactus juice. Not a smart idea out here.”

‘Figures. Sexist would totally have crap luck like that,’ the Overlord thought with a wry smile. “Are they okay?” the Overlord asked, glancing at the Sorceress. In response, the Sorceress giggled, gesturing for the Overlord to enter a door to their left. As the Overlord turned the knob, she heard various voices in the next room, recognizing one as the Soul-Keeper’s. Feel a twinge of fear, the Overlord opened the door, stepping in to see a few of the Sorceress’ cronies attempting to feed the Soul-Keeper some sort of concoction. The Soul-Keeper was running around the room, flailing his arms about in protest.

“I DON’T WANNA, I DON’T WANNA, I DON’T WANNA!”

“Oh Lord,” the Overlord facepalmed.

“The antidote speeds up recovery. Even if he doesn’t take it, he’ll be fine in a day,” the Sorceress said reassuringly.

The Overlord snorted, “Serves him right.” Glancing over at where Sexist was curled up in the fetal position, she frowned, then began to walk over to him. He sent a kick to one of the goons’ groin, knocking him over, before returning back into his huddled stance in the corner. The Overlord knelt down next to Sexist, who was shaking uncontrollably. “Psst. What are you doing?” the Overlord whispered to him, motioning for the cronies to give them some space.

“It’s awful,” Sexist whispered back, “They want to give me this drink. I think it has date-rape in it.”

Puzzled, the Overlord stared at Sexist, frowning at him, “Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s a conspiracy,” he whispered back, a very serious expression on his face.

The Overlord’s eyes widened, “Ohhh... Gotcha...”

“I usually don’t like talking to trees. But you’re a very nice one,” Sexist added.

‘... Oh wow, he thinks I’m a tree,’ she thought dismally. The Overlord stood up, glancing back at the Sorceress, “... I don’t care if you have to strap them down to something, make sure they’re better within the day. I have a lot I need to get done.”

“So I hear. Your Advisor was telling me about your travels,” the Sorceress remarked lightly, “She told me that the Corporal is with you...” There was a certain light in her eyes that made even the Overlord smile- albeit ever so slightly.

“Mmmhmm,” the Overlord gave her a knowing look before glancing back at the Soul-Keeper and Sexist. The Sorceress’ minions were starting to calm them both down- either that or the two boys were beginning to snap out of their delusional states. Absent-mindedly, the Overlord added, “The rest of the Elite will be there. You should come. It’ll be just like old times.”

“I haven’t fought since the Great War,” the Sorceress mused, leaning against her silver staff in thought. “I haven’t seen the others in years.”

“The Elite was formed to banish darkness like the one we face now,” the Overlord replied firmly, “And I know you’re dying to see him again. You can wipe the dazed, love-struck grin off your face.” There was a chuckle added at the end of the phrase, and the Overlord had the satisfaction of seeing the Sorceress blush.

“Perhaps I’ll go... Then,” the Sorceress said softly, unable to keep the smile suppressed. The Overlord nodded her head vigorously, though said nothing for awhile. The two women slipped from the small room where Sexist and the Soul-Keeper were being kept, and began down the hall in silence. As the walls opened up, the Overlord took note of how big the Sorceress’ lair was, particularly as the corridor ended in a massive room, the ceiling reaching up what looked like miles. ‘We’re in a stone tower’, the Overlord realized, but the lack of sunlight only confirmed her theory- they were underground. Shafts of light poured in from above, however, so she made the assumption that the top quarter of the tower was at least above ground.

“Jester is still in the area, and I cannot allow that. He is a menace to the locals,” the Sorceress added over her shoulder. She had begun to walk once more, and the Overlord hurried after her. Stopping at a massive set of doors, the Sorceress continued, “He’s set up a base near here. It’s quite odd, though, I haven’t seen anything like it. It’s in a city. A mansion of sorts. There’s claims that he’s awoken the dead there.”

“Awoken the dead? Zombies?” the Overlord asked. ‘Of course. The one time I don’t bring the Captain or the Lieutenant with me...’ She folded her arms as the Sorceress opened the chamber doors, revealing what looked like an ancient library. The two stepped in and began walking down the main aisle, past what seemed like countless books.

The Sorceress guided the Overlord through a few rows of books, towards a desk, covered in novels, dictionaries, and a large map. Taking the map in both hands, the Elite member rolled the parchment up and handed it to the Overlord in a few brisk, yet flowing movements. “This will guide you there. I advise you investigate,” the Sorceress stated gently, “... Once Sexist and the Soul-Keeper are healed, that is.”

“If you’ll join the ANF, then I’ll investigate the mansion,” the Overlord promised confidently, pocketing the map without much of a care,“I’ll make sure Jester clears the area. Especially if he’s causing trouble.”

“Excellent,” the Sorceress said pleasantly.


---


“This is a bad, bad idea,” the Grasshopper looked up at the dark, foreboding building, her small, thin self falling within the mansion’s shadow. The Overlord stood next to her, hands on her hips as she eyed the eerie structure. It looked like a mixture between a temple and a house- awkwardly erected amongst the smaller houses and shops. She presumed that the mansion once belonged to the leader of the town, though, it looked abandoned with its iron gate, unkept grass, and grimy windows. Weeds were abundant in the flower beds, cobwebs clung to the window sills, and the Overlord sensed a chilling aura about the mansion.

“Meh. Who says DIB’s even here?” the Overlord said stubbornly, “Maybe we should just... Not go in and say we did. And say we found nothing.”

“Uhhh I think the DIB flag says that DIB is here,” Sexist pointed at a flag mounted atop the mansion’s roof, clearly expressing the letters ‘D’, ‘I’, and ‘B’. The Overlord’s eyes narrowed at him and she folded her arms with a huff.

“Oh shut up.”

“You promised to do this, remember,” the Advisor folded her arms, giving the Overlord a pointed look, “And you’re the leader. Why don’t you go first?” The Soul-Keeper gave the Overlord a little push forward, silently clutching onto his staff.

“Pft. Whatever. You guys are such wimps,” the Overlord began toward the darkened mansion, moodily pushing open the gate with a hand and not even bothering to hold it open for the Soul-Keeper. “There’s probably nothing in here anyways!” the Overlord hissed over her shoulder as she marched toward the porch, kicking a rock as she did so.

“Angry little thing, isn’t she?” the Soul-Keeper whispered to Sexist.

“Yep, pretty much,” Sexist nodded in agreement.

“ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?” the Overlord yelled over her shoulder at her minions as they trailed along after her, feet stepping in a monotonous beat. She grabbed the doorknob and opened it confidently, eyes narrowed and chest puffed out.

“I’ll take up the back,” the Advisor remarked, pulling out her machine gun, “Just in case.”

“Good idea,” the Grasshopper nodded, “That way, you die first.” The Advisor shot her an unamused look as they entered the rugged building. The first thing that was blatantly noticeable was that the mansion seemed more like a long hallway, filled with darkness and without light but every few paces.

The Overlord marched forward, not even bothering to draw her katana. The halls seemed deserted in the house. Dust and dirt covered the floors, the tiles either gone or mostly eroded away. The chandelier in the entryway was a nest of cobwebs- the Overlord didn’t even want to think of how many spiders could have been lurking in the cluster. A few pale lights hung ahead, though it didn’t do much to banish the shadows the lurked around her. The only thing that really irked her was the smell- it was so musty and disgusting that she wanted to gag. The piercing silence wasn’t an issue... Until she realized that it was silent.

‘That’s not right.’

Turning around suddenly, the Overlord drew her katana, breathing in deeply and staring at the nothingness that followed her. The pure quiet, the shadows, the empty space where the Soul-Keeper, Sexist, Grasshopper, and Advisor should’ve been. Gasping, the Overlord drew back, then whipped around to face where she’d been going.

“What the...!?”

Where had they gone? Had they taken a turn without her knowing? How long had she been alone? The shadows were beginning to creep in on her, suffocating and closing in. The Overlord turned a third time, this time facing the wooden wall. Kagi’s blade glowed faintly in the unnatural darkness, the sword radiating such warmth that it brushed against her face. The hallway was cold, chilling, and reminded her of death- unchanging no matter how far down it she traveled. Shouldn’t she have hit the back of the mansion by now?

‘This place is a madhouse.’

She began moving faster down the hall now, suddenly taking a turn down another hall that looked almost identical. Almost, except for the light at the end. An exit? She hoped- and began to run, sheathing her katana despite her fears. This was just a mirage. An illusion- that’s what she hoped above everything else. ‘None of this is real.’ It couldn’t be. Her pace transformed into a sprint, her boots clanging against the creaking floor and her hands clasped close to her. Something was moving in the shadows behind her- she was certain of it. A rat? No, it was too big. A flash of something next to her and she swore she saw eyes. And there was breathing other than her- that’s what terrified her the most.

Glancing over her shoulder, a figure framed itself in the light, a mere dark silhouette. ‘Nemesis!’, her mind screamed as the glint of a machete was evident, even in the darkness. And from beneath the helm, she saw the frigid, winter eyes that pierced into hers, paralyzing her. Fearfully, she shut her eyes, trying to block out the image, but he was there, too, within her mind’s eye, glaring her down. The Overlord’s hand grabbed the hilt of her sword, but her shoulder collided into something else- something big. Staggering back, she stifled a scream, heart racing and hands shaking as she stared up at what she’d hit. Fear was overcoming her and she didn’t know why. There was just something so wrong about this place...

“You...” Sexist stammered, appearing in the light. His eyes shone briefly in the dim light, and the Overlord felt a wave of relief. Moving closer to him, she turned and took a gander behind her- finding that nothing was standing there any longer. “Was there something following you?” Sexist asked, too, looking back at where she’d come from.

“I thought...” the Overlord’s words were fumbling over themselves, so she shook her head.

“I got separated from the others,” Sexist admitted, “I can’t find them.”

“How did this happen?” the Overlord asked quietly, “I don’t understand...”

“Stay with me,” he sounded scared, but she didn’t blame him- she was scared, too. The Overlord nodded and the two began down the hall once more, so close to each other that their shoulders constantly brushed each other. Despite their previous animosity, both silently acknowledged that they were all they had to cling onto- whether they liked it or not.

Shuffling down the hall, the two found that the corridor was merely snaking throughout the entirety of the mansion. There were stairs every now and then, and when they reached those, the moved slowly. The Overlord caught glimpses of things moving in the shadows- pale eyes that bore into hers, then vanished as soon as she blinked. She was starting to think that everything within the manor was a part of an illusion. However, this theory was quickly disproved. Upon approaching a corner, the Overlord found herself almost within a foot from a large, masked entity- of what actual species, she was unsure. The only fact remained that it was there, it was humanoid, and it seemed malicious. In all actuality, the Overlord saw the wrinkled, distorted skin, and decided to attack rather than actually look at what was standing before her. This was fortunate as Sexist decided to do the same- and in a flash of both ice and fire, the thing was obliterated- knocked away and sent slamming into the far wall.

However, as soon as both the spells had been launched, the Overlord had thrown her arms around Sexist’s right arm and had buried her face in a high-pitched, ungodly scream that was only outmatched by Sexist’s own cry of fright. There were a few moments of panting and clinging onto each other before either of the two peered over at the entity that they had struck down, taking note that it wasn’t moving.

“Is it dead?” Sexist breathed, his nails practically digging into the Overlord’s back.

“I-I don’t know,” the Overlord’s voice was less than a whisper.

“Let’s go,” Sexist said suddenly, and the Overlord was not about to object. The two began down the hall swiftly, though, the Overlord kept a tight grip on Sexist’s arm, just for comfort’s sake. However, their pace eventually slowed, the Overlord’s limbs trembling too much to even walk properly. A glance over the shoulder was a glimpse at the shadowy version of the Nemesis that seemed to stalk her every move. Without even realizing it, she had moved to where she merely shuffled beside Sexist, her eyes shut and her face buried into his arm.

“Are we almost out of here?” she whispered quietly.

“I-I think so,” Sexist stammered. She hoped he was paying attention to where they were going. She hoped he wasn’t shutting his eyes too.

“You’re the man,” the Overlord said quietly, “You have to be strong and fearless.”

Sexist didn’t say a word in response but merely continued walking. The Overlord wasn’t sure what was happening around her, but she sensed his fear and paranoia. Every now and then, she’d secretly open one of her eyes, peer around them, then continue clinging. However, it became increasingly aware to her that something was bumping against them. Something heavy.

“Emily...” she knew it was bad when he used her real name. She didn’t correct him, though. “... Don’t open your eyes.”

Of course, the Overlord opened her eyes then because he had told her not to. Whether he’d intended for her to open her eyes or not, she did not know. But she opened her eyes, in time to see a large bag hit her gently, and for the brief glimpse of a marred corpse to be imprinted in her mind. There was a scream, then she buried her face into his arm again.

“I OPENED MY EYES!” the Overlord screamed.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO!” Sexist yelled.

“WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT!?” the Overlord shouted.

“Not my fault!” Sexist argued, and the Overlord figured she couldn’t presently come up with something in response to that. It took awhile before the Overlord realized that they were no longer by the body bags. She opened her eyes, but still kept a hold of his arm, looking around the shadows in paranoia.

That was when she saw the light. A few yards away a door edged with light. Beautiful, glorious light. Sexist began making a full-out sprint for it, leaving the Overlord behind completely. “COME BACK!” the Overlord yelled, pursuing him angrily. ‘Get me out of this damn building!’ she thought desperately, but something seemed to manifest itself between her and the ex-Insurgent. Slowing her pace, the Overlord saw the ghostly image before her as it slowly came into focus, a silvery green with crimson tinging its torso and face.

“... Alexi?” the Overlord’s breath was caught in her throat.

The gaunt version of the Theurgist wavered before her, then lunged forward, stretching its jaws out wide in an attempt to devour her. In response, the Overlord’s hand drew forth energy and fire, combining it into some quickened spell that was launched at the specter. As the swirling spell struck the ghost, it vanished into a puff of smoke, and the Overlord pressed on forward, pushing the door open and staggering into the blinding light.

Falling onto her hands and knees, the Overlord bent over for a few moments, a few tears stinging her eyes. Hands shaking, she collapsed, elbows keeping her from faceplanting the porch of the mansion. Crawling forward a few paces, she sat next to Sexist, who didn’t make a noise.

“Way... to... abandon me,” the Overlord murmured, falling back onto her back, breathing heavily.

“What did you see when you were in there?” Sexist asked quietly, looking at her. When the Overlord merely looked at him, he added, “I saw the way you were looking around. Like there was something there.” When she didn’t reply again, he nodded, “The Nemesis.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re easy to read.”

The Overlord forced herself to stand up, not bothering to help him up. “That’s what you think,” she spat, dusting herself off, then looking back out toward the iron gate surrounding the property. Catching a glimpse of the Soul-Keeper, the Advisor, and the Grasshopper standing just outside the gate by the sidewalk, she tilted her head to the side.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you were scared,” Sexist added with a bemused expression on his face. The Overlord shot him a death glare, then began walking over to the others, angrily turning her back to the mansion.

---


Jester sat at the computer with a triumphant look on his face. A few of the DIB soldiers were sitting next to him, one with a bag of popcorn and the other slurping on a Dr. Pepper. As he played back the a video on the computer screen, he grinned, pointing at the two frightened figures.

“That’s that Insurgent that used to be with us, right?” one DIB soldier pointed at a frightened looking Sexist.

“And that’s the so-called Overlord,” Jester nodded, pointing at where she was clinging onto his arm. “Ha! This will make excellent blackmail...”

“So... What was the purpose of this?” the second DIB soldier inquired lightly, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“The Nemesis said to distract them so he could get something done. So... I distracted them,” Jester shrugged.

“And the things in the mansion?” the first DIB soldier asked.

“All fake,” Jester laughed, “But they don’t know that, do they?” The three began laughing raucously, Jester rewinding the video back to play the beginning, where the five were entering the “haunted mansion”.