Epsilon's Introduction

Epsilon stood in the antechamber of Messar's hidden laboratory, just as he'd done countless times before. This time, though, things were different. As a favored student, he'd never had to wait after being summoned. And there had never been any need for other mages to watch him. They were casual about it, but he knew that they were watching him. Something was wrong. He'd been taking more and more "independant" actions lately. Had he somehow angered his mentor? He'd never seen Master Messar angry before, and he'd done nothing to bring shame on his fellows. Quite the opposite.

Epsilon endured the silence with a quiet of his own. Much had happened in the past few days; nothing could be taken for granted anymore. He tried his best to meditate while awaiting the master's acknowledgement, but the inner peace eluded him. Something was very wrong indeed.

A silvery, swirling portal appeared in the center of the room. "My son," came Master Messar's smooth voice, in the tone reserved for enemies, "I have arranged for you to take a short trip. Please enter the portal." Robed figures around him stood, as if in anticipation.

Instinctively, Epsilon muttered a countercurse under his breath, but he stepped forward through the silver gate with pride and courage evident in his gait and the set of his jaw. If he was going to be punished, he wasn't going to let anyone enjoy it -- not even Master Messar.

The world blurred and refocused, revealing a dark swamp. Around him stood black robed wizards, three in front and more behind. They stood silently as the voice of Messar rang out again. "This game is ended, imperial abomination. The being that can fool me is rare indeed, but your treachery has been exposed. Out of respect, I will spare you the agony you deserve and grant you swift termination."

"Master! What...?!" Reeling and emotionally stunned, Epsilon grimaced and forced his burned body into a fighting stance, prepared to defend himself.

Without further warning, surges of magical energies built all around him.

A fire blast struck from his immedate right.

The mage directly in front struck him with a fire bolt.

A fireball struck him from behind, exploding with enough force to almost topple him.

The mage just in front of him, to the left, also leveled a fire blast in his direction.

"Hold on, I am coming, fair maiden!" came a shout from behind. There was a thud and a groan, then another thud. Epsilon turned to see an armored man leaning over the still form of a fallen mage. He appeared to be blindfolded. A moogle with a bladed item was running up behind, while the two standing mages recoiled in surprise.

The moogle leapt into action, flinging the round blade into the nearest mage. The weapon rebounded back into the moogle's hand.

The knight swung his curved blade in a vicious arc, the edge slicing his target with incredible precision. The mage gasped and fell to his face.

One of the mages that had scored on Epsilon already targeted him again. The minor flame spell barely singed him.

The moogle's mage touched his side... seeing blood, he turned and fled.

Epsilon focused his healing powers. The cool touch of restorative power touched him.

The first mage drew a bead on the knight, flinging a weak ball of fire that barely drew the man's attention.

The last remaining mage blasted the moogle with a ferocious spell. Fire surged from the ground, causing the moogle to yelp and dance.

Sneering, the first mage moved away from the melee and threw a fireball at Sy. It struck with moderate force, but his armor absorbed the impact.

With a mighty yell, "HA!", the knight leapt for a new target, his blade finding the mage to Epsilon's right. Without a word, the mage fell to the ground, dispatched cleanly.

Clutching his wound, the moogle threw his spinning blade at the second mage. The weapon sliced only air and returned.

Epsilon turned on the moogle's mage, swinging his fists with deadly accuracy. He pulled the first punch but felt the snap of bone as his second connected with the mage's jaw. Warm blood, far too much, splashed on him as the man's body fell for what seemed like ages.

Epsilon's eyes narrowed at the unexpected skull-crushing -- he was still so uncertain about his strength -- but he shook his fists out and scanned the battlefield for another target.

Seeing the easy defeat of his fellows, the first mage growled something hastily about revenge and sprinted away when the moogle started to throw at him.

The knight cast about blindly, "Is that it then? All done? Haha! Pedro, we've rescued a damsel in distress!"

Epsilon thought on this for a moment. He had never really considered himself much of a damsel. "Erm, yes. Hello. Thank you for your aid -- I was caught a bit by surprise by my old master's treachery." Epsilon paused for a moment before continuing. "Why are you blindfolded, sir?"

The moogle began to search the fallen mages. "Kupo," he said.

The knight's brow furrowed. "I don't hear any damsel." He tilted his head back, peeking under the blindfold at Epsilon. "Excuse me, have you seen a damsel... possibly in distress?"

Epsilon frowned. "Erm, I'm it, sir. No one else around but the moogle and my old master's death squad." He spread his arms as if to emphasize the lack of immediate additional personnel, then went to check on the mage he downed -- searching for signs of life, as it were.

"Pedro!" exclaimed the knight. "You said... well, never mind. Well met, sir! I am Sir Lord Dunne Dunnebar, Knight and Paladin of Good Quality! Well met!"

"Erm, yes. Well met." As if suddenly realizing he was outside, Epsilon pulled his plumed hat from its ties on his belt and straightened the brim before positioning it on his head. "I am called Epsilon Messar, although that may change shortly. The Messar bit, not the Epsilon. I am a red magus, if the ridiculous hat didn't give me away from the first."

The moogle had already jumped on the mage that Epsilon had attacked, hastily looting. A quick examination revealed that the man was dead, probably killed instantly. Epsilon sighed in disappointment.

The moogle yelled, "Kupo!", running away from them. The knight turned blindly towards the sound of the moogle's running feet.

Epsilon started to turn as well, when something seemed to stick in his craw. "Wait a minute... how long have you been following that moogle?"

Dunne turned back towards him. "Following? Pedro is my squire. We work as a team, although it is he that follows me." He lifted the blindfold from one eye and looked at the retreating moogle, then let it fall back into place. "Pedro!" he exclaimed, indignantly.

"It does not look that way," Epsilon muttered to himself, starting off after the moogle. In a louder tone, he addressed Dunne: "I intend to claim my rightful portion of the swag from these fallen magi -- I have nothing but what I carry, and I fear that the money your squire may have run off with is all I will receive of my master's legacy." After moving about twenty feet, Epsilon turned back to the paladin. "Hold on, you never answered my question. Why are you blindfolded?"

Dunne tottered after. "Blindfolded? Oh! I was practicing my blindfighting technique. No time like the present." He bumped Epsilon, nearly falling over. "Huh? I'm sorry, didn't see you there. A dangerous practice, starting and stopping like that. People might think you were hiding something."

"Erm, right. Blindfighting. Hiding something. Pedro the moogle squire." Epsilon studied Dunne's face for a moment, then turned to continue jogging after Pedro. "I think something has popped in my brain."

Dunne had a dark complexion and a stocky build. His hair was unkempt and he had obviously not shaved in some time. If it weren't for his armor and the decoration on it, one might not have recognized his knighthood. He looked a lot like every other peasant Epsilon had seen in his travels on the continent.

Epsilon, on the other hand, was an immaculately kept fellow with free, long white hair and grey eyes. He was exceptionally attractive, and, frankly, could have passed for Dunne's maiden were socks to be balled up and stuffed into appropriate places. He was dressed in the traditional red trench, tunic and plumed hat of the red mage, black pants, and brown soft leather boots. He was armed with heavy steel-knuckled cesti, and aside from that, was carrying no visible equipment, food, water, or, for that matter, anything adventurers should be carrying.

The moogle disappeared from sight, easily outdistancing Epsilon and Dunne, but Dunne did not seem discouraged. They followed the moogle's trail for twenty minutes or so, entering foothills, when they stumbled across a small cottage. Dunne lifted his blindfold to glance at it. "Ah, here we are." He opened the front door, shouting, "Pedro!"

Epsilon pointed (futilely, since Dunne remained blindfolded) to the scruffy knight's face. "Erm, I am not certain, mind you, but you might be able to take that blindfold off now."

"Very well," said Dunne, pulling the blindfold off. He motioned for Epsilon to follow. If the moogle was inside, he didn't really have much choice. He followed his "rescuer".

Inside, the cottage had something of a "lived in" look. Various articles of clothing and items of food were scattered over the floor, the table, and two beds. The table also had many papers with crude sketches on them. The windows were blocked from the outside, making the interior dark. The moogle was inside, starting a fire in the stone fireplace set into the right wall.

"Cozy," Epsilon remarked, and wandered over to the table to get a better look at the sketches.

"Pedro! We need to talk about..." he glanced over at Epsilon, "maiden classification."

"Erm, yes, about that," Epsilon sighs, looking up from the sketches. "I don't think I qualify, unfortunately."

The sketches were of a strange variety of things. Some were outdoor scenes, most of very poor quality. Some were pictures of a moogle doing various household chores, also of very poor quality. A few were of the knight, hastily sketched but much more realistic, generally showing the man to be in some state of repose. One that caught Epsilon's attention was a picture of a stranger, another crude one, this one being of a man in a plumed hat.

The moogle was preparing his stew. The knight made his way over to Epsilon. "We don't hold that against you, do we, Pedro? A rescue is still a rescue, regardless of one's maidenhood or... um, lack of maidenhood." He watched Epsilon's actions with interest.

"Well, erm, I'm glad to be of service...." Epsilon reached down and picked up the sketch of the man in the plumed hat. "Is this a red magus?" he asked, thinking aloud while absent-mindedly fingering the brim of his own hat.

Dunne looked at the picture. "That was the first owner of this house. He... died. Ah, it looks like Pedro has finished the stew... time to eat. You're welcome to dine with us!"

"Oh," Epsilon said, placing the sketch back on the table. "How terrible. I'm sorry." His gaze lingered on the dead man's face for some time before he finally turned away.

Dunne went over to the moogle, who did not relinquish the stew immediately. A short, quiet discussion ensued. Finally, he took the pot and produced three bowls, which he then served over the sketches on the table. As he sat down, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch the name... and where are you from?"

"Erm, I am called Epsilon, or sometimes Sy...." Epsilon stares nervously at the pot of stew. "If there's any contention... erm, over whether there's enough stew for three, that is -- I'm really not very hungry. I'd just as soon retrieve my part of the swag and... well...." Epsilon's voice trailed off. It was painfully obvious that he had no idea what he was going to do once he had obtained his gil.

"Plenty of stew!" exclaimed the knight happily, already having consumed about half his bowl. "Swag, now that's an interesting word. Swag! I can't say that I'm familiar with that word. And believe you me, I'm familiar with a lot of words. You, Pedro?" Pedro was eating his stew, pointedly watching Epsilon. He "kupo"'ed cautiously in agreement.

Epsilon cleared his throat.

"Swag. Noun. 1a: An ornamental drapery or curtain draped in a curve between two points. 1b: An ornamental festoon of flowers or fruit. 1c: A carving or plaster molding of such an ornament. 2: Slang. Stolen property; loot. In this case, I am referring specifically to definition two, as used in the sentence, 'I was attacked by a group of black mages, and after they were defeated, your moogle squire took all the swag.'" Epsilon crossed his arms.

The knight beamed pleasantly enough, but the moogle jumped from his seat. "Ooooh, sw-a-a-a-g," said Dunne. Epsilon edged around the table swiftly, such that he was between the moogle and the door. "By all means, I didn't know there was any... sw-a-a-g... to be had." He winked at Epsilon. The moogle looked like he might have run away. "Come now, Pedro, this fellow is entitled to a share of his... sw-a-a-g." The moogle seemed to relent. He threw a handful of coins on the table. "See, doesn't it feel good to share?" Dunne had finished his stew. "Now, how is it that you came to be screaming like a maiden while evil men in pajamas were attacking you?"

"Thank you." Quickly, Epsilon scooped up his coins and counted them into a pouch at his belt while giving the moogle something of an evil look. He then sighed, and leveled his gaze at Dunne. "I don't recall screaming like a maiden. And I have a pretty good memory."

Epsilon was careful to keep one surreptitious hand on his purse as he answered. "Erm... my old master found something out about me that I was keeping a secret... and took offense. I'm not certain why... although I can guess. More than that I don't care to say. Erm, and I can't explain the pajamas. I should really be going -- I have to... erm...." Once again, the blank stare on Epsilon's face makes it really clear that he has nothing to do next.

"Leaving? But you're welcome to stay. It's not everyday we rescue someone. Besides, we're going out to fight evil tomorrow and we can see you off then. It's going to be dark soon... and some people tend to get lost in the swamp, especially after dark." He gave a meaningful look to Epsilon and nodded his head towards the moogle.

"Erm, well, I suppose I could stay for just the night. It isn't like I'm anxious to slog through knee-deep crud when I don't even have a destination in mind." Epsilon hazarded a small smile and had a seat at the table.

When night came, Epsilon did not sleep. He sat in a corner and brooded about his "expulsion" from Messar's tutelage. He'd have to train himself now -- not an easy prospect... and of course there was the question of whether the black magi would return....

The constant grate of Dunne's snoring would have kept anyone awake, had they needed sleep. In the early morning hours, the door to the cottage opened. A small figure padded in, making its way over to the beds in the corner of the room. It was the moogle. Epsilon watched with interest, having not even seen him depart. The moogle climbed on the bed where Dunne lay and jumped up and down, but succeeded in only slightly changing the frequency of the man's snoring.

Epsilon just watched, vaguely amused by the moogle's antics.He had finished mending the minor structural he'd taken during the day. He watched the moogle, curious. The little fellow clearly wanted to revive his companion. He grabbed the man's nostrils and held them closed, then shoved his entire fist into the man's mouth when he opened it to breathe. Still, Dunne did not awaken. The moogle put his small hand to his head and stared at the sleeping human.

Epsilon chuckles. He then stands up and strides to Dunne's bedside, beside the moogle. "Having trouble, little one?" Sy takes Dunne's hand and casts a scaled-down Bolt 1 to give the knight a harmless but significant shock.

The forces of magic flowed through Epsilon... he drew off a significant portion of the power and released electrical force into the knight. Dunne shrieked and jumped up from the bed, smoke rising from him. He looked from Epsilon to Pedro, then back to the bed, then down to the ground. "Pardon me..." The moogle frantically chirped, interrupting. "What's that boy? You say there's more of those pajama-wearing brigands coming... lots more? Well, let's suit up, then!" He grabbed a cloth strip. "With it being dark and all, this is the perfect opportunity to practice blind-fighting!" He began to stumble around in the dark, muttering about "lost armor".

Epsilon made a mental note to listen to the little voice in his head more often, and pulled on his cesti. Marching to the peg beside the door, he donned his cloak and hat before peering around the edge of one of the forward-facing windows of the house.

"I apologize, Dunne, it appears I've dragged you into something." Before the mages arrived, Epsilon muttered a Cure 1 spell and directed it at the smoking Dunne.

Epsilon drew forth mystical energies once more, this time intending to heal. Green sparks sailed around Dunne's scorched head.

"Wha- what?!" exclaimed the knight. "You... healed me! That's fantastic! I've been trying to... perfect my technique at healing for a long time now!" He advanced on Epsilon. "Please, do it again. I need to see that again..."

"Erm, yes. To be honest, you didn't strike me as the sort who has the spark for it. I'll be more than happy to demonstrate again once we've dealt with the pajama... erm, that is, the black magi."

The moogle hopped up and down impatiently, chattering non-stop to Dunne, but provoking little reaction.

"Your little friend is right -- our lives are in imminent danger of ending suddenly in a ball of coruscating flame. Although those may not have been his exact words. I recommend we quit this cottage and take cover in the trees. The magi will find this wooden structure all too convenient a target, and I would hate to be responsible for the destruction of your home." Epsilon pointed towards the door, again realizing a moment too late that Dunne was blindfolded. He dropped his hand limply to his side, looking somewhat exasperated.

The moogle ran out the door, Dunne following closely until he impacted the door frame. He swore colorfully. His armor, which he had been awkwardly climbing into, clattered to floor around him. He began casting around in the dark, recovering the pieces. Epsilon finally kicked the last piece into the knight's hand and urged him to hurry. Outside, the moogle seemed to be breaking open crates. From them, he grabbed an armload of some sort of glowing items. He dashed into the swamp, easily monitored due to the fact that he was now glowing.

"Ooh, which way did he go?" moaned Dunne. "I can't see a blasted thing..."

"Erm, straight ahead, slightly left," Epsilon said, then shook his head in disbelief that he had begun playing along. Following the blind paladin, Sy charged out the front door and into the woods after the moogle. "What are those glowing things he's got, anyway?" He demanded.

"Pets!" yelled Dunne, awkwardly giving chase. "If you see a rocky hill around here somewhere, give a shout!" he shouted as they ran, "I need to get up there to frighten them away!" Epsilon easily kept pace as the knight tumbled and tripped in the dark.

"Pets?" Epsilon shouted. Without breaking pace, he veers toward the rocky mound. "Dunne! The hill's to your right; about sixty degrees!" A short time later, he saw a rocky outcropping that looked like it might be the one Dunne had mentioned. A glowing sphere popped up, lunging at Epsilon's face and veering off into the night.

"Blessed bolts!" Epsilon shouted, crashing to the ground with a thud.

Dunne was climbing the hill. He turned blindly, calling, "D'you see one? Will o' the Wisps! Everyone's afraid of 'em, they'll take you to your death!" He climbed to the top, nearly falling off when he reached it.

"They have crates of will-o-wisps?" On the ground, Epsilon muttered to himself in disbelief. "My mind is never going to be the same again...."

"You there!" he shouted, lifting his blindfold to look below. "This is a cursed swamp! Beware the Will o' the Wisps that come for thee!" He hastily threw himself to the ground, ducking the answering firebolt.

Epsilon belly-crawled to the top of the hill beside Dunne and looked down at their attackers. "They're not stopping? I don't understand why -- your little glowing balls are positively terrifying. One tried to take my head off the hard way, and _I'm_ set for a good lie down."

Dunne turned his head to the general direction of Epsilon's voice, a grim expression just visible on his face by the moonlight. "I was afraid this would happen someday. Will o' the Wisps are great for leading you to death, but what if you just don't follow them? During the day we'd have our zombie costumes..." He shook his head. "I counted five of them, and I think one of them threw fire at me. Fire! I think we should surrender and beg for mercy..."

"Unacceptable. They'd take me apart and likely kill you just for interfering. Master isn't a bad person -- he's just very vindictive. Only five, hmm? Five isn't bad. We took out at least that many last time. I mean, it's not like I can't throw fire too." Epsilon turned his head toward Dunne. "You have zombie costumes? Nevermind. Some other time. Right now, we have to move." Epsilon stood up. "I hope you're prepared to cover me," he said, just before sprinting down the hillside at the nearest mage.

Epsilon stealthily made his way around the outcropping. In the dark, he could just make out the movements of a group of mages traveling together. They were coming around the bend in the opposite direction. Taking them by surprise, he charged the group and leveled a tackle at the middle of the group, hoping to scatter them and take one or two down.

With precision, the mages stepped into formation, allowing Sy to land awkwardly in the middle of their group. Landing not on flesh but hard ground, he stumbled and rolled, now stunned. Sy spit out dirt and rose to a fighting crouch. "Aw, firk."

Fire shot over him, scorching the ground to either side of him as two mages took advantage of the opportunity to strike. The others arrayed themselves around him, trapping him within their circle.

"Erm... oohhh! The swaaamp spirits have embraaaced me, and nooow they will taaake your sooouuuls!" Epsilon moans. "...sort of thing," he adds under his breath. He suddenly shouts out the command phrase for a lightning spell and levels a hand at the mage to his right.

The next blast of flame took Epsilon in the side, scorching his clothing more than his body.

He threw a lightning bolt into the face of one of his attackers, the mage dodging so the attack only just struck him. Epsilon clenched his fist, realizing that this tactic would never work against his fellow mages. Another pair of firebolts struck him, one nearly taking him off balance.

Suddenly Dunne appeared from around the corner. He was crawling on his hands and knees, bleating pitifully. The two at Epsilon's back did nothing, taken off guard by the appearance of the newcomer.

The mages in front of Epsilon now turned to face the newcomer in confusion. He seemed to be surrendering.

Epsilon took advantage of the respite to throw curing magic over himself.

As one of the mages turned back to contend with their real target, Dunne scooted forward and jabbed him in the back with a blade. "HA!" he exclaimed, watching the mage collapse, then he panicked.

Epsilon sighs. "Should have figured."

A shimmering purple sphere flew out of the dark, striking the other mage before Epsilon with a sickening explosion. Energy surged around him as he fell to his face. Behind him, the sounds repeated and he heard the collapse of three more bodies. He turned bewildered, only to see a dozen soldiers advancing. They were dressed in black and were nondescript in appearance, but they carried large rifles... he knew of only one force so outfitted... the Empire.

"Oh, bloody hell," Epsilon mutters. "Thanks for the help and hospitality, Dunne. Say goodbye to Pedro for me. I cannot say that I hope our paths cross again, but were it to happen, I would not be disappointed." And he takes off through the trees.

Epsilon dashed into the forest, the words of the Super Sprint magic on his lips when he walked face first into the muzzle of a very large gun. More soldiers were materializing from the darkness in every direction. "You should relax, friend," said the soldier. "You don't want your little friend to get hurt, do you?" The soldier waved to another coming from the left, holding a limp moogle. "The Commander wants to speak with you. Why don't you come with us?"

Epsilon groaned. He couldn't allow himself to be taken... but they'd kill Pedro (and probably Dunne, too) if he didn't go along. There were a few seconds of tense silence, and then Sy casually pulled his hat down low over his eyes and raised his hands in the universal sign language for "I am your b***h."

He was led at gunpoint back the way he had come, joining the equally captured Dunne and force-marched to the cabin. Dunne cast an apprehensive glance at the soldier carrying Pedro's form. "(I think they killed Pedro)," he whispered, but one of the soldier's bashed him in the head and he went silent. They were ushered into Dunne's cabin.

Inside, a man in black armor was waiting, back to the door. He turned to face them, little discernable about him in the dark. "Ah, Epsilon," he said in a clear, youthful voice. "I've been following your career for some time. You have a knack for making a nuisance of yourself. I wonder why that is... I don't think either of us cares for long-winded speeches, though, so I'll make it short. Here, it will not be long before you are dismantled. You and I both know that. I'm sure neither of us want that to happen. What do you think about... relocating?"

At the word 'dismantled,' Epsilon shot a sidelong glance at Dunne, then brought his eyes back to the black-armored fellow. "I was not aware the Empire found bounty hunting and dealing with bandits to be a nuisance," Epsilon said. There was a pause, and then: "I'm listening."

Dunne seemed to be sweating profusely and eyeing the door with increasing frequency. He was oblivious to the discussion.

Epsilon began to worry that the buzzing in his skull was audible to the outside world. This whole situation was bad news on bad news, and no amount of analysis was developing any sort of escape strategy....

Epsilon's accuser smirked at his defense. "You weren't aware? Do you believe that, or have you become an accomplished liar in your absence? You should be aware that disharmony is the Empire's true enemy. Anyone who disrupts the natural order is a nuisance to the Empire. You and your kind fill people's heads with delusions of glory and freedom. Delusions that get them killed."

My very existence is a disruption of natural order. And the Empire put me here. You needn't explain the Emperor's divine right to me -- I know all about it."

The Imperial thought about his words. "I am not here because of ideals, but because of your unique nature. You are gamble, but I did not get where I am today playing safe."

"So where are you? For that matter, who are you?"

The man snapped his fingers and a soldier entered. He pointed at Dunne and the soldier dragged him out. "That's the kind of information that isn't given freely. Not that you are in any position to give away my plans. I am known as Vice, second only to the Emperor."

"Hurt him," Epsilon said calmly, "and it won't matter who you are ever again."

Epsilon made no show of recognition, but he had overheard the name Vice before. Several times it had been mentioned in his presence in reference to an Admiral Vice who had been killed many years before. He had never heard the exact number, but he knew that the man had an infant son at the time of his death. No one had liked the Admiral and the legitimacy of the child had been a source of gossip before Sy had escaped the Empire. "Ah, yes," Epsilon muttered. "The ubiquitous Vice." He smiled, glancing at the guards around him. "I admire your grip."

"There's that automaton wit that we've heard nothing about. I disagree with the belief that you should be destroyed. I have spared you twice already, and I offer you a place where your enemies will not find you."

"I am glad that we have at least one goal in common." Epsilon paused. "So what can I do for you?"

"If you consent," continued Vice, "we will travel to a research laboratory, very far from here. With your cooperation, we will work to decipher the mysteries the ancients left for us."

"Forgive me, but I've heard that one before, and I'm familiar with its Anglic translation: 'we're going to take you apart very slowly to see what makes you tick.' No dice, Mr. Vice. I'd rather die quickly fighting my way past you than slowly while lying on a workbench." Epsilon looked around himself, at the guards and at the walls of the small hovel. "I would ask that we move outside before the festivities commence, however. Dunne and Pedro don't deserve their house destroyed. They are innocent of any wrongdoing but trying to protect a maiden in distress." Sy smirks.

Vice reached out and grabbed Epsilon's arm, preventing any movement. He stood very close, saying in icy tones, "Don't be foolish, machine. I have all the dismantled robots I please, one more or less makes no difference. We know what 'makes you tick'." He let go, frowning. "I would leave the option open, rather than have my hand forced. I think you might want to continue to exist, but that's your decision."

"You leave me little choice. If your intent is truly to protect me, and not to destroy me, then it is only logical to follow you rather than suffer the alternative. When do we leave?"

"Immediately. Smuggling you out under Enric's nose will not be easy. Your departure from Messar's clan comes at a good time. I think that word will spread that you were lost in the swamp." He exited the cabin. Outside, soldiers were standing watch, with Dunne and Pedro sitting on the ground. The Commander glanced at them, then at Epsilon. "If you care about these two, maybe you'll take them with you... I don't have much patience for petty thieves."

"Thieves?" Epsilon asked, eyeing Dunne.

"So you didn't know?" crooned Vice. "I'll see to them, then. Go with those soldiers. They'll take you to the airstrip." Dunne and Pedro were pulled to their feet and would soon be out of sight. Epsilon's escort began walking in the opposite direction.

"Hold, Vice." Epsilon planted his feet, making himself immobile. "While I have little patience for thieves, I have less for the unnecessary deaths meted out by the so-called 'justice system' of the Empire. If you cannot give me your word that they will not be destroyed, they come with me."

Vice stopped in his tracks, his back to Epsilon. "Very well," he sighed. "They all go to Vangorsa..." The soldiers returned with Dunne and Pedro. Vice watched as the three of them were escorted away. They were watched by six or so soldiers, several of them with guns trained. The scraggly swamp vegetation began to give way to more green plant life when they suddenly came upon a large metallic contraption that looked vaguely like a beetle. Epsilon recognized it as a personal transport, although he'd only seen pictures of them before. A hatch opened in the side, and they were pushed into a back chamber. Epsilon found himself in a small room, sitting on a bench, with no distinguishing features and only two small windows to look out of on either side of him.

"@%^&#" breathed Dunne, looking around himself. Pedro "kupo"ed his agreement.

"Thieves?" Epsilon muttered. "I just saved your lives, so I think I deserve an explanation. Honesty is recommended, or you may not find me so much more pleasant than Vice." He cracked his knuckles, the popping accompanied by the disturbing scrape of metal on metal.

Dunne scowled indignantly, then smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Well, who isn't a thief these days? We're not thieves. No, not really." He started to sweat. "Well, in the course of adventuring, we may have... gotten a few items of interest from the Empire once in a while. Strictly by accident, of course," he stammered. "Of course, the Empire and the local authorities call anyone that doesn't fit their mold a thief... we're like those guys who took things from the bad guys and gave them to the poor--"

"Kupo!" offered Pedro.

"No, that wasn't it..." said Dunne, thinking. "Well, I don't remember. But that's what we do... Yep, we do good, and it doesn't matter to us who slanders our good name. Well, it really bothers us a lot... really."

Epsilon thought for a moment. "I'm a bounty hunter... of sorts. I got rid of one too many threats to the populace, which apparently 'inspires hope and rebellion.' Hence, they are not fond of me. Fortunately, this Vice fellow seems to be reasonable... to a point. Many of the Empire's operatives only want to see me taken apart."

Dunne was relatively quiet for a time, retching and gagging as the vehicle travelled through rough terrain. "Taken apart... mmph... I know all about... bleh... that." The trip was fairly short, and the door opened. Soldiers motioned them out. They were ushered into a small building where a number of crates waited. One of them was open.

"Get in," said the lead soldier, simply. "And keep your mouths shut. If you're caught, you're as good as dead." Dunne looked uncertainly at the large box.

After being shoved into the crate, Epsilon and company had to wait for only a short time before they felt themselves being moved. There were muffled voices from outside as they were loaded like so much cargo. Another short wait and then the distant sputter and rumble of engines. It was beginning to get warm in the box.

"Say," said Dunne in a loud whisper, "how much air is there in here?" His question was immediately met with loud chewing sounds. "Hey, who's eating?" The occupants of the box felt the jolt of movement, which picked up as they were propelled faster and faster. "Oof, now I'm upside down," lamented Dunne. The pressure of inertia seemed to lessen.

"Dunne! Silence! There will be plenty of time for chatting once we're out of immediate and deadly peril!" Epsilon hisses. Then, after a pause: "Expletive deleted, Pedro, what are you eating?"

There was a shuffle as someone righted himself. "I don't hear anything except that humming sound," said Dunne quickly. After a pause, he whispered, "(What are you eating?)" Pedro "kupo"ed back, subdued. "(Epsilon, are you eating something? Pedro says he's not... and he really needs to use... the little moogle's room.)" Pedro "kupo"ed again, this time in outrage. "(I think the air's getting thin in here...)"

There's a muted gong-like sound as Epsilon's palm connects with his forehead. "(I'm not eating anything. Can't Pedro hold it? The air's gonna get a lot thinner if he can't.)"

"I... I think... I think the box is closing in on me..." said Dunne, his voice rising in panic. "I can't breathe in here. I need fresh air... we're all going to die in here... this is a trap!" Something heavy ran into the side of the crate, shaking Epsilon where he stood.

"This is for your own good, Dunne. It'll just put you to sleep until we're out of the crate."

The crate shook again. Epsilon lunged, tripping over the moogle in the process. He grabbed Dunne as he tripped, both crashing into the side of the crate. For a moment, the crate leaned at an angle and then everyone fell as it turned over, falling into a balanced, suspended position with the former wall at a forty-five degree angle from the floor. Dunne pulled his face back from a newly formed hole in the side of the box. "You did it! An airhole! We're saved!" He pressed his face into the fist-sized hole and breathed deeply.

Epsilon blinks. "Erm, yes. I'm just... good that way."

Pedro stood, elbowing his way to the hole. Everyone was forced to brace themselves against the slanted side to keep from piling up on each other in the corner.

"Come here!" came an exclamation from outside. "One of these crates fell over. Help me push it back." The crate was jerked back and forth, slowly sliding back into place. "It's got a hole in it..." Epsilon had a glimpse of a man with a cap through the hole.

"What's in these things anyway?"

"General supplies... might as well take a look..."

Go to Epsilon's Quest Continued