Final Fantasy: The War to End All Wars, Chap. 4

A/N: Here it is folks, the final two Horsemen, Damien and Matt will be making their grand appearance in this Chappie! YAY! Lol. Also, we've got another 3 OCs in the resistance! They have interesting pasts in my opinion. The 3 newest OC's names are: Jun Yakushi a.k.a., The Vengeance, (Ichimonji), Jane Scott a.k.a., Hawkeye, (DemonDoor), and Cestmir Balin a.k.a. Garm, (Red Mage Neko).These three will be added very soon. But, they won't be members of the Horsemen, though; Jun will be the leader of the Special Forces group, whose name you'll find out later. Jane and Cestmir will be the weapon designers. These guys won't be making an appearance for the next couple of Chappies, though.

Oh, yeah, you better e-mail Pink Chocobo 13; she's doing the Fanart for this Fic. But she would like your permission to draw Vemar and Damien. Write her back quickly! And by the way, Resha-988, the color of the Soviet Union is red.

My rambling now done, I'll start the Fic! Oh! And any parentheses you see contain the translations of certain words and phrases, in case you didn't know. Besides the A/N.

Note: How many of you still want me to write this note-thingy? If I portray any FF characters or OCs incorrectly, please notify me and I will fix the problem. Thankee, sai.

Chapter IV

Polar Opposites

An airplane soared over the treetops of a massive French forest, which stood next to a precipice of stone, standing tall and impressive against the lush wood. The sun had not begun to shine its overly golden rays upon the landscape; night still had its starry cloak spread out over the world, even though the moon was slowly descending towards the horizon. The airplane banked upward, increasing its height by hundreds of feet per minute, its fixed wings cutting through the low hanging clouds, leaving long, spiraling trails in their wake.

Inside of the aircraft, two people sat across from each other. They bounced slightly when the plane hit turbulence, but they mostly sat stock still.

The first was a tall, rather athletic man, whose eyes were closed, apparently meditating. His long silver hair lay against his back, it was kept out of his eyes by a black headband, even though a few stray bangs still hung over his face. His torso was encased in night black plate mail, which was scratched and scarred, as if it had been through many battles, underneath, he wore a black bodysuit, which kept the armor from rubbing painfully against his chest. His black jeans had silver plate mail stitched onto the fabric; the hems of his jeans were tucked into his black steel-toed combat boots. His hands were sheathed in a pair of black gauntlets. Across his lap lay an enormous black broadsword, with many strange rune symbols adorning its surface, what the runes were for? Only he knows.

The second individual was much younger than the first, maybe around sixteen, who was bobbing his head lightly to some rock 'n' roll that blared from the headphones in his ears. His disheveled dark brown hair, which was streaked with red appeared to be spiked because of the pair of pilot's goggles that were strapped to his forehead. His face bore multiple scars, one on the bridge of his nose and two under each of his blue eyes. He was dressed in an old white T-shirt, a black blazer, (with its sleeves rolled up), that appeared to have seen too many battles for its own good, tattered black jeans, black fingerless gloves and black sneakers. A belt hung loosely about his waist, he had clipped the essentials onto it: a gray Ipod, a pair of knives, and a few hand grenades. Lying next to him on the seat was a rather interesting weapon. It resembled a long pole, with a pair of large, saw-like blades on each end that faced different directions; the cutting edges of his "double scythe" were stained with only recently dried blood.

A soft "beep" permeated the interior of the cabin, and the voice of their pilot broke the silence. "Nightmare Assassin, Bleeding Phoenix, get ready to rock 'n' roll. You'll be hittin' the Red base in five." He declared, and his announcement was ended with another quiet "beep". The 2nd individual, Bleeding Phoenix, stowed his headphones in a pocket of his blazer and looked over at his counterpart, smiling slightly.

"Damien, you ready?" He asked, already knowing the answer. The 1st, Damien, opened his eyes, revealing that they were of a blood red hue.

"…As always, Mattheis." Nightmare Assassin replied. Mattheis smiled.

"Three words, goin' for the record, Damien?" He joked. Damien smirked slightly, and then it was replaced by his usual expression of calm indifference.

"Perhaps…" He replied. Mattheis laughed at this.

"That's four, ladies and gentlemen, this is a day to take down in history, mark your calendars! Damien said four words!" Damien shook his head, a ghost of a smile flitting across his pale features and picked up a small sharpening stone that sat in the seat next to him, and began to sharpen his blade. Matt smiled and began to twirl one of his knives absentmindedly between his fingers. The pilot announced his presence again with another "beep".

"Damien, Matt, your mission is to rescue some new "students" from a Soviet reeducation facility." The Pilot began, casually, "As you can probably tell already, you will be parachuting onto the target, which currently resides about a good 1,000 feet below us, our radar jammer is still holding up, so we haven't been discovered and shot down…yet. So you'll have to make this fast, do you understand me?" He finished. "Or we shall incur the wrath of the Soviet Hellgun…" He added, worryingly.

The mention of the word "Hellgun" sent chills up and down Matt's spine. The artillery pieces that could annihilate entire armies in a single shot, he had heard rumors that there were only 8 left in the world, thanks to the Rebels. He looked over at Damien, who looked as impassive as ever, not a shred of fear in his eyes, Damien was one of the few people (who was still alive) left in the world who had seen the destructive power of the Hellguns and wasn't afraid of them, as far as he could tell, and Matt admired that about him.

As for Matt…the memory was still too ghastly for him to reflect on.

"H.Q. also asks that you destroy the Hellgun stationed here for good measure." The Pilot continued, causally. "Then you are to steal a Soviet transport and get your asses back to base, understand?" The Pilot paused for a moment. "Good, make sure the Soviets know it was the Resistance after you are done…cleansing the base, m'kay?" The Pilot's briefing ended, once again, with another "beep".

Damien laid his sword and sharpening rock aside, and pressed a switch with his thumb on the wall beside him, he was answered by a much louder "beep". "It will be done." He said, as he took his thumb off of the switch. The Pilot responded only by turning a knob on his console, which in turn, dropped a parachute onto both Damien and Matt's knees.

Damien stood up and shrugged his parachute on, and then he slung his sword across his back, as did Matt, but he held his Double-Scythe tightly in one gloved hand. The pair made their way over to the over to the large, sliding steel door that led to the outside of the aircraft. The Pilot announced himself for hopefully the last time. "Good luck and God speed, Horsemen…" He said, and pressed another switch.

The sliding steel door slid open and a powerful gust of air flung itself into the cabin, almost knocking the two Horsemen off their feet. Matt and Damien steadied themselves by grabbing hold of the doorframe and pulling, using the momentum of their pull, they flung themselves out of the airplane. The wind at a thousand feet was ferocious; it felt as if their arms and legs were going to be pulled out of their sockets at any second.

They plummeted towards the ground; their clothes billowed furiously in the high winds, the wind roared in their ears, blocking out all other sounds, Damien's hair trailed out behind him like a large silver banner. As they descended, they could make out the silhouette of the base atop the cliff, it was rectangular in shape, surrounded by a ten-foot high chain link fence, with a outcropping which probably held the infamous Hellgun, which was still concealed under a veil of darkness, the barracks were located next to the base itself, which was a small structure, constructed from steel, but both of the Horsemen knew that the true base had been constructed about a mile underground.

Apparently the Soviets were not too worried about someone attacking the base. Because no searchlights danced around the exterior of the base, hoping to spot some would-be intruders, machine-gun emplacements ready to cut them down as they neared. But, if an alarm was sounded, their entrance would be a lot more to difficult to pull off.

About 300 feet above the base, Damien and Matt gave their ripcords a swift tug, which released the parachutes from the confines of their bags. Their speedy descent was jerked to a snail's crawl, much to the complaints of Matt, whose young veins were still pumping with adrenaline of a sky-dive. Matt and Damien's sharp eyes kept watch on the base, just in case they had to free themselves from their main 'chutes, and use their reserves in order to avoid a Hellgun shell.

The pair drew ever closer to ground…and to the carnage that they would soon cause.

Meanwhile…Three Soviets stood in a close grouping, two of them easily seen by the lights of their cigarettes. They were chatting away about something, let us listen in...

The first soldier tossed his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with the toe of his boot. He then asked his two comrades in Russian, while adjusting his rifle that was strapped to his shoulder so that it was more comfortable. "Have you seen those new prisoners yet, Ivan, Mische?" They both nodded quickly.

"Yeah, they are pretty weird-looking fuckers aren't they, comrade?" Ivan said, taking a long draw on his cigarette. The one who had asked the question inclined his head slightly, the rank on his beret glimmering eerily in the light of his comrades' cigarettes, he was a Captain.

"And what's up with the big, blue cat?" Mische added, hoping not get hit. He winced when Ivan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good question, Mische, what do ya think, Anatoli?" Ivan asked. Anatoli, the captain, shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe the-." He stopped mid-sentence, and just stood there, Ivan cocked an eyebrow.

"Hey, sir, maybe they what?" Ivan asked, shaking Anatoli's right shoulder, and then something happened that would haunt him till the end of his days. As he shook Anatoli's right shoulder, a loud squelching sound emanated from him, and…he spilt straight down the middle, his left half fell to the ground with a sickening "thud", his right half stood because it still supported by Ivan's hand.

Ivan drew his hand away from Anatoli's halve as if he had been burnt, causing it to lose balance and fall to the ground with another sickening "thud". Mische doubled over and puked his guts out a few feet away from Ivan and Anatoli's corpse. "Mische," Ivan said, staring in absolute horror at Anatoli, who would do this to a Soviet soldier…he immediately knew.

"…Yeah… Ivan?" Mische asked, wiping the vomit from his lips. Ivan turned to him.

"Sound the alar-!" But Ivan was cut short as his torso was knocked away from his legs; it went flying about twenty feet away and hit the ground, bouncing one or twice as the momentum of its flight carried it across the ground. Mische stared in horror at Ivan's torso-less legs, which collapsed to its knees, and fell forward onto the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Mische watched, transfixed, as blood pooled under Ivan's severed legs, then he tore his gaze away from the macabre sight. Looking upward, he saw a pair of red eyes staring evilly at him. The mere sight of those blood red eyes caused Mische to turn tail and run for his life, his entire being focused upon one objective: sounding the alarm. His goal was situated upon a support beam of a guard tower that was erected near the chain-link fence that surrounded the base.

He ran at full speed, fueled onward by his fear. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain lance throughout his body as his left shoulder jerked forward from the force of something striking it. He emitted a scream of pain that would have awoken the dead, and looked at his shoulder. A small knife had imbedded itself deep into his shoulder blade, rendering his left arm useless. Mische poured on the steam, his right hand pressed to his left shoulder, trying to stop his left arm from flopping wildly beside him. He looked up at his target, it was drawing nearer with every step, and Mische could make out the red button upon the support beam.

He reached his target without a second to spare. He took his right hand from his shoulder, balled it into a fist and slammed it down onto the alarm. Then, suddenly he went limp. Mische spun in a slow circle, revealing the second knife that had imbedded itself into the nape of his neck and collapsed onto the compacted dirt, his corpse kicking up a cloud of dust…

Matt sighed; it never ceased to amaze him at the cowardice of these soldiers, the least they could do is stand and fight. He shook his head, and went to retrieve his knives, but, then again, they didn't stand much of a chance against two of the Five Horsemen. Damien walked in step with Matt, wiping the blood of his two recent victims from his broadsword with a polishing cloth.

Matt knelt down beside the Soviet's corpse, and yanked his knife out of his neck, sheathed it, he then proceeded to wrench the other knife out, but it had imbedded itself deep into the bone of the corpse's shoulder blade, he was having a little more trouble. As Matt struggled to free his knife from the Soviet's shoulder, Damien's red eyes had been drawn to something peculiar.

A blinking red button, which was mounted on the leg of the guard tower, Damien cocked a quizzical eyebrow at it, he knew for a fact it wasn't a mine, nor was it one of those damned trip lasers that fried you alive if you tripped it. Damien's eyes widened in realization, it was one of those silent alarms, that Soviet must have activated it before he was slain by Mattheis.

"Mattheis…." Damien began, but he was cut short as Matt let out a cry of victory when he finally freed the knife from the corpse's shoulder. Damien cocked an eyebrow at Matt's small celebration, and then disregarded it as a teenage "thing". "You might want to shut up…"

"Why, Dam?" (A/N: Pronounced as "Dame".) Matt asked, curiously, as he stood up, he dusted himself off, and turned to "Dam".

Dam…? What the fuck…? Damien thought, his mind absolutely boggled, then he shook his head, and thought, teenagers, I'll never understand 'em…"Because, we've got company…" Matt's cheerful face suddenly went grim, he stooped and picked up his scythe, and shouldered the arcane weapon. He cast a sideward glance at the Nightmare Assassin.

"How long?" He asked, coldly. Damien shrugged ever so slightly.

"A matter of minutes." Damien replied, quietly. He shouldered his sword, and his gaze was suddenly drawn to the blood that had pooled under the Captain's corpse…Damien suddenly grinned, and a low chuckle could be heard from him. He could feel some…old sensation course through his veins…he had an insatiable thirst, but he knew it wasn't for water…

"Blood…" Damien whispered his voice manic. His thirst increased tenfold in its intensity. His mouth was dry, and he was feeling the beginnings of a headache. He felt as a switch had been flipped inside of his skull, and the system that had been activated was slowly taking over. "Mattheis…" Damien began, looking up at the thoroughly freaked out Matt. "Find an air vent…get into the base… I shall deal with the ones who walk the earth…"

Matt nodded quickly, and replied with a meek: "Alright." He quickly turned on his heel, and bolted away from Damien, scared shitless. He knew this happened to Damien before almost every battle, but it always scared him…he had seen what Damien had done once when he had been in a state like this…and it was not pretty…

Still…you have to admit when impaled that one guy upon that light pole…that was pretty damn cool…Matt shuddered at the rather gruesome memory. He made his way towards the air vent, which he remembered from his studying of the map, even though Damien was going to get the larger kill, he knew their would be some Soviets guarding the prisoners.

Well…I can still have some fun…Matt mused, smirking evilly as he arrived at his objective. He drove his scythe into the grating of the air vent, and wrenched it away from its foundations. He grabbed hold of the top rung of the ladder that had been built into the wall of the air vent, and flipped himself into the vent, then he made his way down, he still had a long way to go…

Damien's sword hand began to tremble, the slaughter was close…he could sense it…He started off, giving into the pain of headache, which seemed to be trying to reactivate some latent ability…he had no idea what it could be… the outside world grew silent, and Damien could hear only the thumping of his heart as it pumped blood throughout his body, and the dull thudding of his headache…

He suddenly stopped, and let his sword slid off of his shoulder, and drop to the ground, creating a gash in the hard earth. He could distantly hear the sound of a Soviet officer speaking over a microphone, and his command, a squad or four of Soviet troopers. "Intrude…drop…all your…eapons…an…we…shall be merciful!" Damien replied only with a laugh, a manical one, filled with malice and foreboding.

He had been staring at the ground while the officer had tried to negotiate surrender…but now he looked up, and all that was once Damien Nocturne was gone replaced by a single desire: to spill blood. His laughter increased…and he replied, smiling manically. "Fo…f-for…" He could barely contain himself, his vision was turning a hazy red, and he needed to give in, just surrender to it, surrender to his bloodlust.

He managed to keep control over for a second longer, his eyes gleamed a brilliant crimson hue and he screamed, lifting his sword into the air.

"FOR THE SLAUGHTER!" And he gave in to the lust. Damien shouldered his sword again, and bolted forward. His movements could barely be tracked by the human eye, and to the Soviet soldiers before him, he seemed to be a blur of death fast approaching.

Damien slammed his sword into the ground, avoiding a monstrous hail of lead by mere inches, the force of his blow propelling him into the air. As he fell back to earth, he drove his great weapon into the chest of a soldier, when his feet touched the ground he flung him off of his blade, and decapitated three more Soviets with a mighty swing of his broadsword. Turning on his heel, his blade cutting a bloody arch through the air, he severed another Red's legs from his torso.

Damien cut another soldier asunder, and sidestepped a blow from Red who had been trying to spear him on the end of a bayonet, that soldier's face was introduced, rather rudely, to Damien's boot, the steel toe of his boot shattering the soldier's skull. Damien impaled two soldiers on his blade and relinquished his hold on the hilt of his blade, leaving the weapon lodged in their abdomens, as he relished in their dying screams, he then turned to face the survivors.

His vision swam with red, bloody red, his lust coursed through him, dark, hot, rich and free, it was intoxicating. He could feel his entire body shiver as he spilled blood, quake when he caused another death, and tremble when he laughed. This was how it was supposed to be, blood was supposed to flow hot and free, he didn't know why, but he felt at home, at peace for once in his life when he dealing death to the masses.

The first thing the remaining troopers noticed about the Great Destroyer, other than the fact that he was covered in the blood of his enemies, was the absolutely insane grin plastered upon his face, and the manic chuckling that was emanating softly from him. With a casual flick of his wrists, Damien unleashed his secondary weapons; a pair of long, silver blades slid out from the confines of his gauntlets, and locked into place, looking extremely menacing.

"Blood and Shadow…" Damien said, regarding his two blades as if they were close friends. "SERVE ME WELL!" He shrieked, as he dashing towards the remaining sixteen soldiers.

When he reached them, he drove the blade on his right arm into the chest of a soldier, his left blade entered the forehead of another Soviet, and he kicked the first soldier off his right blade, stabbed another, pulled his other blade out, and killed another Red by slashing his throat with his left blade. He brought his left leg up and slammed a Soviet into the ground with an axe kick, breaking his head in half.

As Damien snapped another Soviet's neck, his gaze shifted to the remaining 9 soldiers; his vision, almost completely blocked out by the red haze. Letting go of his kill, he lunged forward, he impaling two Soviets on his blades, ripped them out, decapitated a third with both of his gauntlet blades. Two more fell at the onslaught of his gauntlet blades, he took another's head with his elbow, and lastly, he kicked a Soviet in his shin, and, grasping his shoulder, he drove his right gauntlet blade into his abdomen.

The last soldier brought his rifle up to bear as Damien released his latest kill from his grasp and was about to pull the trigger when Damien raised his right arm, so that it was pointing at the attacking soldier and launched his gauntlet blade from his outstretched arm. The blade imbedded itself into the Soviet's throat; instantly killing him. His corpse was held upright by a thin stretch of cord that connected Damien's blade to his gauntlet, Damien jerked his hand upward, which withdrew his gauntlet blade from the soldier's neck, and the blade snapped back into its original place seconds later, covered in arterial spray.

Damien retracted his gauntlet blades, and walked over to the two soldiers that he had left his sword in, who were amazingly still standing upright, he extracted it from their guts, letting their carcasses fall to the ground. Damien looked at the carnage that surrounded him for a moment, and threw his head backwards and greeted the morning sky with bone-chilling laughter, scaring the birds from their roosts in the forest a mile away.

He was truly the Great Destroyer and he loved his job…with a passion… (A/N: Wow…dark…and gory…I hope you like that Nightmare Shadow, because if you don't…well…it's just too damn bad! Lol. Now this next part takes place right after Matt enters the air duct, so please, bear with me.)

Matt landed with a "clank" at the bottom of the air vent, and immediately cursed quietly at his audacity…someone would've heard that. A few tense moments went by while Matt stood there, crouched, his scythe poised to strike. He took a quiet step forward, still crouched mind you, and waited…then another step, then another, and finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he reached the large door that lead out of the vent.

He cracked it open, and poked his head out into the hall, looking up and down the metal corridor, satisfied that he was alone; he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. He crept down the halls, slinking his way from shadow to shadow, trying to as quiet as humanly possible, which was extremely hard for this Horseman.

He absolutely hated being quiet, or being pushed around for that matter…along with the cold, silence was the one thing Matteo could not stand! It was horrible…oh! Back to reality…Matt stopped at a corner, and peered around it. There stood two Soviets, obviously unaware of what was going on topside, chatting breezily about which one of their female prisoners had bigger…you know…jahoobies…

"Geez…"Matt muttered, rather loudly. "Are they all perverts?" Matt ducked back behind the corner, when one of Soviets looked to see what the noise was. Matt waited, ready to strike, like a cobra; he heard the clip-clopping of the Red's heavy boots nearing him. NOW! His mind screamed at him, he stepped out from around the corner and slammed his scythe blade into the stomach, catching the Red who had stayed behind off guard.

Matt pulled a grenade from his belt, and said, pulling out the pin. "Eat this, ikeike (bitch)." Matt finished, stuffing the active grenade into the dying Soviet's mouth. Matt, using all of his might, flung the Red off of his scythe, and onto his comrade, who had been lining up a shot moments before. Matt dove for cover as the grenade went off.

A wall of flame and shrapnel tore down the hall, nearly incinerating Matt as he dove for cover behind a nearby desk. "Kuso! (Shit!) That was close!" He muttered, as he poked his head out from behind the desk. The party's just a starting, bitches…Matt thought, as he vaulted over the desk, and began to run down the recently scorched hallway, making sure to step on the corpses of the Soviets he had killed.

He knew he was near the prison block, but how near? That is the question, my dear Brutus…he sighed, he had taken after Damien, who was currently reading Hamlet. Matt shrugged resignedly, and continued on; occasionally casting his gaze down another hallway to check what resided within it.

After about twenty minutes of this, he saw a sign stamped with Russian letters, now his Russian wasn't that good, but he could still say a few phrases like "where is the crapper?" or "I fucking hate you!" and finally "my name is Timothy." Why "Timothy"…? The world may never know… hell, I don't even know…

"Prisoner holding cells…jackpot bitches." Matt muttered, as he descended the steps that resided underneath the sign, venturing deeper into the bowels of the base…

"Rikku, have you opened the damn door yet?" An irritated Tidus asked, for somewhere around the tenth time. Rikku immediately stiffened, and set back to work on opening the lock, muttering curses and promises of his very painful demise under her breath. After all, even the ever happy-go-lucky Rikku can get annoyed…Tidus let out a great sigh, and leaned back against the wall, adjacent to a bed, which was suspended in mid-air by a pair of chains that were anchored diagonally in the wall.

Yuna sat up from her prone position on the bed, and spoke to both of them. "Look, you two, we are all tired, and sick of being in this cell, and I'm sure Sir Auron, and everyone else is too, but we've got to make the best of it. So Tidus, please take it easy on Rikku, she's trying her hardest." Tidus grunted in reply. "Thank you." She added, giving him a slight nod.

"Finally…" Rikku muttered, grumpily. "Someone's on my side…" Tidus had turned and was just about to let her have it, when he received a stern "Tidus…" from Yuna; he reluctantly turned back towards her, mumbling curses under his breath. The trio sat in silence, trying to ignore the rising tension in the room, as Rikku hastily worked on the lock that held the door fast.

Suddenly, the aura of tension that permeated the room was shattered by a dry "click", which came from the lock on the door. "Victory!" Rikku shouted, joyously jumping into the air, celebrating her victory. "Oh, yeah, I rule! …who rules? I do!" She continued, congratulating herself on outsmarting the door's locking mechanism, as she performed that odd little victory dance of her's. She then noticed the glares, (though Yuna's shouldn't even be called a glare), from both Tidus and Yuna.

"Eh heh heh…" She replied, sheepishly, as she scratched her head in embarrassment. "Let's go?" She asked, as she watched the two apprehensively. Tidus and Yuna let out a sigh, and nodded, much to the relief of Rikku, who hated tense moments like these. The trio, albeit a little stiffly, thanks to their fifteen hour detention in this room, exited the room, and found themselves in a cold, utilitarian hallway, with blank walls, along which doors were dispersed randomly.

"Wow…" Tidus began, a frown painted on his face. "Whoever built this place has a drab fashion sense, no posters of me anywhere!" Rikku sighed heavily, while Yuna giggled like a school-girl, Tidus' bigheadedness had once again resurfaced, the Blitzball ace was so full of himself. Rikku was on the verge of throwing him back into that cell, locking it, and leaving him to starve in there.

Who would've thought she could be so…evil? Anyway, ignoring Tidus' idiotic statements, Rikku made her way over to the next door, and rapped sharply on its surface with her knuckles. "Auron? Wakka? Lulu? You in there? Because the company out here stinks!" Rikku whispered the last portion of her sentence, so Tidus couldn't hear her and begin a whole new tirade.

"Ya!" Came Wakka's muffled reply, "Get us the hell out of here! Lu's tryin' to kill me, ya! HEY!" A crash emanated from within the room. Rikku almost burst out laughing when she imagined what was going on in the room. (A/N: Think Shikamaru Chibi style.)

A chibi version of Wakka was running around the room, while a chibi version of Lulu was chasing him around with the bed (like the one Yuna had been laying on minutes beforehand) held high over her head, ready to bash the Auroch's captain's head in. Auron (chibi style!) was sitting in a corner of the room, sighing heavily while wondering why he never drank his sake. He was contemplating becoming an alcoholic…who wouldn't in this situation?

Rikku giggled at thought, and fleshed out her lock picking tools once more, just as she was about to set to work, a voice caused her to nearly jump out of her skin. "What'd he do this time, Auron?" Rikku was about to turn and deliver a powerful (and most likely deadly) kick to his Da Vinci, but she stopped when she heard Auron's ever calm voice through the door.

"You don't want-" He was cut off by Wakka, who shouted, most likely still evading Lulu's deadly strikes with the large piece of steel, one hit from that thing would knock out an elephant, though some said that Wakka's skull is as thick as an elephant's, but that can't be known for certain.

"HEY! It isn't my fault; they're so…big, ya!"

"What, you son of a bitch?" Thwack! …thud…Those two sounds were the most ominous things that Rikku had ever heard; the sounds soon died out within the walls of the room, there was a few moments of stunned silence, and then Rikku suddenly heard Auron chuckling. (A/N: I know that she Lulu is OoC.)

"Oh, he's gonna feel that in the morning…" Auron muttered, chuckling. Before any of them could respond, they heard someone speak.

"Who's gonna feel what in da mornin'?" Came a cheerful voice (with a faux hick accent) from the trio's right. They whirled in that direction and spied something that threw all three of them for a loop. A young man, no older than 16, was standing at the end of the hall, a smirk on his face, and a very interesting weapon hefted over his shoulder. "I bet dat youses are the prisoners, no?" He continued, obviously putting on an act to mask his intelligence.

"Well, than I guess'll hafta ask ya ta come wit me." He finished, apparently he was going to try out for the redneck music awards soon. If this were an anime, Tidus, Yuna, and Rikku would have most likely "sweat-dropped" by now. The boy started to walk towards them, his sneakers clicking loudly in the silence of the hall as he drew closer; suddenly he stopped and cocked a chocolate eyebrow.

Tidus, displaying a lot of bravery, stepped in front of the two girls. He gave the boy a determined glare, and said his tone icy. "I don't know who you are, but if you try to hurt any of us, I'll kick your ass to the…Farplane and back!" The boy seemed to ponder this for a moment, then gave the trio a shrug and replied, his confusion evident.

"The wha?" The boy asked, incredulously. If this were an anime, they would've done the famous "anime fall" by now. But, instead, there was a gasp of pure shock, and the "smack!" of someone slapping a hand to their forehead.

This person was Rikku, who muttered. "What an idiot…" Meanwhile, Yuna poked her head over Tidus' shoulder, having to stand on her tippy-toes to see over the blitz ace's shoulder, and asked a pertinent question, kind of shyly too.

"You don't know what the Farplane is?" He shook his head. Yuna was just about to open her mouth to explain what exactly the Farplane is, when the younger man cut her off.

"I could care less about this "Farplane", now… who's in that room?" He asked, finally speaking in his normal tone of voice, hefting his weapon off of his shoulder, pointing it towards the door that Rikku had, until moments before hand, been planning to unlock. Tidus cast his gaze to the door, and was about to give some evasive reply, when Yuna said, cutting him off, the Blitz Ace was about to choke her; how did she now he wasn't an enemy who was about to kill them over leaving their cell?

"Our friends are in there." The boy's eyes widened, and a small smile appeared on his face, he chuckled, and said, resting his weapon on his shoulder once more.

"More prisoners? Well, this makes my trip that much easier." The boy pushed his way past Tidus, ignoring his objection, slid by Rikku, but not before giving her a once over and winking slyly, before he reached the door. He looked over his shoulder at the trio, and they saw a large smile on his face. "You might wanna stand back." Rikku was the first to object.

"Wait! What do ya think you're-" She was cut short as the boy swung his weapon into the door, imbedding the sharp blade into its surface. The trio watched in shock as the boy, demonstrating surprising strength, drug his scythe through the door's surface, which must've been constructed from stainless steel, wincing and covering their ears as the screech of tearing steel roared in the empty hallway.

After a few minutes of this, the boy withdrew his scythe, and slammed it back into the door, pulling the large gash he had torn in the door open, wider and wider, until finally someone could climb through it. The quartet (three of them releasing their ears from the death-grip that they had them in) then looked through the hole, and examined the people inside of it. The boy was first to speak. "Does the cat need a rabies shot?"

Tidus chuckled at this. "Not sure, kid." He replied, smiling at Kimahri. The large Ronso was sitting in another corner of the room, apparently he had been fast asleep; how he could sleep through a metal door being torn open…it's one of those unanswerable questions…Lulu was sitting on the recently replaced bed, which she had reattached to the wall, and watching Wakka's body, daring him to get up.

Luckily, Wakka was playin' it smart and feigning unconsciousness. Smart move, Wakka. And Auron…well, he was being Auron, and was sitting against the wall next to the door, except there was one difference, his sake jug was near his lips and he had this subtle determination in his eyes to get hammered as humanely possible, and wake up in a bed with someone. But, his hopes were dashed as he cast his gaze to the boy, and setting his jug down, asked in his trademark tone.

"Who are you?" The boy looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face, seriously, it was that weird. It looked like a cross between boyish pride and adult seriousness; which one it is, still remains to be seen. He took up a "manly" pose, legs spread apart at shoulder-width, right fist resting on his hip, and his left thumb jacked into his chest. He swung his head around, an extremely proud smile appearing on his mug.

"I have many names." He began, moving his right arm in dramatic sweeping motions to add to the affect of his introduction. If one had an imagination like this boy's, you would be hearing Kabuki music in the background. "I am…" He paused, practically soaking up the anticipation in the room. "The Fifth Horsemen, the Bleeding Phoenix, and Ladies Man in training…" He began to hop sideways on one foot, his arm placed out in front of him, his palm exposed and fingers spread wide apart.

"I AM…Mattheis Hiashin-sama!" Everyone present, except Mattheis, performed something that displayed what they felt about his little "entrance". Tidus, groaned heavily, Yuna, giggled, Rikku, sighed, Kimahri, stared, Auron, stared with mouth open, Wakka, burst out laughing, and finally, Lulu, glared and asked a question.

"You couldn't wait to do that, could you?" Matt nodded, smiling widely.

"It was the coolest bloody thing you've ever seen, right?" He asked, Lulu sighed, and was about to return his question with some abrasive comment, when Yuna piped in.

"It was funny! Lord Mattheis!" Matt's smile turned into a slightly cheerful one, as he closed his eyes and scratched his head, a small chuckle emanating from him. He was trying to act bashful…like he could…

"Really?" But, he was thinking something entirely different. Omigod! She called me "Lord"…I feel so cool! Oh, I am so going to gloat when I get back to- He never got to finish his thought, his eyes widened, his body reacting on pure muscle memory as his ears picked up a voice that didn't belong to any of his newest "homies".

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing out of your cells!" Matt fleshed out a knife, (ignoring the gasps of shock from Yuna and Rikku) and, grasping the edge of the tear in the metal of the door with his hand, he vaulted through it, barely missing striking Tidus in the head with his foot. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the knife was already hurtling towards the Soviet, who was currently radioing in the prisoners escape.

It struck him dead between the eyes, causing him to collapse to the ground, dead, his radio clattering the floor inches away, someone still trying to reach the recently departed. Exactly five seconds later, the alarm began to blare loudly, its eerie wail echoing through the underground base, Matt cursed loudly. "Kuso! (Damn it!)" He turned to his newest comrades, the severity of the situation imprinted deeply onto his young face.

"Move." He ordered.

"But we need our weapons, ya!" It was, of course, Wakka who spoke. Matt eyed the islander with ill-hidden suspicion, but then nodded.

"Fine, but try anything funny, it's straight to hell with you." Lulu was about to comment on this, but, amazingly, she was silenced by Matt's icy stare. And, without further adieu, the group began to hurry to their destination: the armory, where apparently they stored the weapons of their captives. They arrived within a few minutes, surprisingly uninhibited by any of the base's guardsmen, they found the door unlocked while Matt stood guard outside, impatiently tapping his foot.

While Matt stood outside, the Spirans rooted around the immense rows of weapons that filled the rather small, rectangular armory. "He's a strange one, ain't he?" Rikku muttered, rummaging around for her Godhand. There was a chuckle from Tidus as he found Caladborg, and he, hefting it over his shoulder, replied.

"You just figured it out?" He ducked as Rikku chucked a clip (for a gun) at him; it nearly struck him, its tailwind ruffling his golden locks. "Hey! That nearly hit me!"

"I think that was the point." Auron commented, leaning on his Masamune. Tidus glared at the undead Guardian.

"Don't get involved in this, old-timer." Auron cocked a salt-and-pepper brow, and was about to respond, when Matt's stern voice cut through the air.

"Enough chatting, fags! Get your rears in gear!" Wakka looked up, and tucked the World Champion under his arm. He had an extremely annoyed expression on his face, as did everyone else. He's an impatient little bastard… Wakka thought, then suddenly, an idea struck him. He turned to Rikku, who had been standing behind him in her search for her Godhand. They exchanged whispers for a moment, and Rikku nodded.

Taking a naturally sweet, and innocent voice that she owned, and adding a little seductive flavoring to it, she called. "Mattheis…" This sweet, yet seductive melody would arouse any teenage boy in his right mind, and by right mind; not gay. Almost on cue, Matt poked his head around into the room, his eyes closed and a slightly perverted smirk on his face.

"Yeeeeees?" He cooed, perverted thoughts clearly dancing through his mind. Without warning, Wakka, with a grunt, flung the World Champion at Matt, intending on knocking boy unconscious. Wakka allowed a smirk to cross his tanned face, the plan had gone off without a hitch. But his smirk quickly faded as the Spirans saw something that they thought could never happen. Matt calmly opened his eyes, and he raised his index finger in front of his face.

The deadly blitzball collided against it and…stopped. It clattered to the floor, and Matt looked up at Wakka, a pseudo-cheerful smile gracing his lips. "You have ten seconds to leave the room, or I'll split your heads open with my scythe." He warned, as he brought his foot down on Wakka's blitzball, crushing it under his shoe. He picked up the ball, and tossed the deflated, yet still spiked form at Wakka, who caught it, staring at it in shock.

"I'll get it fixed later, just a temporary warning to not attempt another rebellion." He said, sincerely. The Spirans nodded (a few of them scared of what the young man could do to them) and followed him out of the room, having grabbed all their weapons right as Matt crushed Wakka's blitzball. They walked through the cold, utilitarian halls of the base, running into only two Soviets, Matt quickly dealt with them, in rather bloody fashion. Apparently this "bloody berserker" he spoke of had rubbed off on him.

After about fifteen minutes, the group came to a service elevator, the Spirans boarded the small elevator, in silence while Matt talked about this "bloody berserker" that they were going to meet pretty damn quick. "Now don't be too surprised if there is a large pile of corpses, Damien-niisan always forgets to bring the damn matches." Matt chuckled, shuddering at the thought of seeing another unlit funeral pyre. The elevator had started by now, and was halfway through its descent. Then, Yuna asked an odd question.

"What does he look like, Mattheis-sama?" Matt smiled grimly at Yuna. Tidus groaned.

"Yuna, for the last time, he's not a lor-!"

"You'll see." Was Matt's only reply. The group fell into a hushed calm for a few seconds, but it was amazingly broke by Lulu, who asked another question.

"Why did you tell us there would be a lot of corpses?" Matt chuckled and replied, quietly.

"You'll see." Any further questioning was cut off by the small "ping" of the elevator rumbling to a halt at its destination. The doors creaked open, and Matt was first out, and when he saw what lay outside the doors of the elevator, a surprised smirk flew across his face, he arched a brown eyebrow as he examined his comrade's handiwork, before he commented. "Man, Dam, looks like you had some fun."

Damien looked up from polishing his sword with a black silk cloth, and a small, almost imperceptible smile crossed his features. "…Of course…" He replied, returning to his polishing. He had noticed that Mattheis had brought the prisoner's along with him, but he didn't really care, they would see what havoc this Horseman could wreak. He heard gasps, and a few "Oh my Yevon…"

What they were gawking at was truly a sight to see. Behind Damien, was a scattering of many, many corpses in a circular pattern, their bodies mangled beyond recognition, gore was splattered everywhere, some of the bodies still leaked their lifeblood onto the ground, tainting it further with red fluid. Damien had taken no notice of this, and was currently sitting upon a particularly mangled body, polishing his blade, not a care in the world.

"Why did you kill them? And why in the hell are you sitting on a corpse! It's disrespectful to the dead!" Damien heard Tidus as he began his rant, Damien looked up at the young boy, and fixed him with a smile that wasn't at all pleasant, which shut him up pretty quick. Damien's smile faded, as shivers still traveling down Tidus' spine, and he spoke, his voice calm and quiet.

"Because they deserved it." He replied, and was about to say more when a shrill ringing tone cut through the air. Damien cocked a silvery brow, and dug his hand into his pocket; he rooted around in silence for a few minutes, the Spirans watching in absolute confusion (except Auron, who was never confused). He found what he was looking for: a small, silver device. Damien flipped it open, and put it up to his ear.

After a few seconds, he pressed a button. He then nodded, and beckoned to Matt, who came over and took the phone. Matt raised it to his ear, and spoke into it. "Yello…I told you to never call me that…in my other pants…stop calling me "Matteo" and I'll agree to anything…what?" Matt talked to the person on the other side of the line for a few moments, and then cast a glance over his shoulder, smiling at Tidus and Company.

"Alright, Capi-tan." Matt flipped the phone shut and pocketed it, before turning back to the assembled Spirans and speaking. "What my buddy here, Damien Nocturne, 4th Horseman, was about elaborate on, was that these people are called: "Soviets". The most downright, dirty sonovabitches you'll ever meet." Matt paused, pointing to the corpse that Damien had made into a chair. "He deserved to go hell." This revelation was met with stunned silence for a moment, before amazingly, Auron spoke up.

"I see…spring cleaning, eh?" Damien chuckled.

"Something like that…" He muttered, looking Auron up and down. "Oh, and Red, may your fallen master rest in peace." Damien added, his voice sounded like he was…sad. Auron's eyes widened in shock for what seemed like the first time in ages. How had known about Braska? He had considered Braska his master and friend, for breaking him out of that cell in Bevelle for not marrying the daughter of some high priest, along with that simpleton, Jecht.

"A man, like me, who follows the code of the samurai, should know when a comrade has lost their master, your arm tucked into your coat, the loss of a master, or the loss of a sword arm; all very symbolic." Damien finished, before returning to his sword. Matt stood there, surprised. He had never known Damien followed Bushido; he had never spoken of it, and…hell! This was the most that Damien ever spoke in one day! (A/N: Forgive me, Nightmare, but this seemed so perfect for Damien! Bushido, I mean.)

"Oh, and Mattheis," Damien turned to his comrade, a scowl on his face. "No Hellgun."

Matt's face contorted into a scowl and he greeted the morning sky with a loud. "KUUUSSOO!" If there were any windows nearby, they would've probably shattered by now. Lulu took her hands from her ears, as did the rest of the Spirans; Damien currently had a pained expression on his face, he hadn't covered his ears from the force of Matt's cursing, the Rooster would be able to take today off.

"What is this…Hellgun?"

"It's a "gun", so they use machina!" Wakka accused them, with a finger pointed in their direction. Damien sighed, and stuck his pinky finger into his ear, trying to restore his hearing. Meanwhile, Lulu had cuffed Wakka upside the head, while giving him a stern: "Shut up, Wakka." Matt cracked his knuckles, and then cut off the entirety of the remaining questions with a "Saint-like" response.

"A good question," Matt said, verbatim, "if you follow me, all of your questions shall be answered." Damien groaned, and muttered, shaking his head. That sentence always worked when recruiting, Saint should have gotten a patent for it.

"You stole that from Saint." Matt whirled on him.

"Shut up! He steals all my women! I have to have something to steal back!" Damien blinked at him a few times, as did the rest of the group, before Matt pushed his fingers together and said, a blush creeping over his cheeks. "Never-mind, let's just skedaddle." Damien nodded, and stood up, brushing the gore from the seat of his pants. He then made his over to the bank of Soviet transport that resided fairly far away from them, Matt and company in tow.

They all climbed into the transport, and took off towards the base's gates, having already left their mark behind. The corpses had formed the mark in the interior of the base; they had formed a circle with a cross residing in the center of it, the symbol of their leader, Saint. Who had made it the symbol of the Rebellion a long time ago. After opening the gates, the two Rebels had set off, into the rising sun, back to their home base in Spain.

About an hour after leaving the base, Matt turned to Damien, a perverted smile gracing his lips. "Damien, did you see the jugs on that one girl…Lulu?" Damien was about to scoff, but was cut off by said girl.

"WHAT?" Was Lulu's response as she whirled on the 5th Horseman. Matt's shrieks of agony could be heard across the world.

A/N: It is finally done, sorry for the long wait. I've been a lazy butt this summer, this year…anyway, I'm taking a short break, and then I'll get the next chappie up…where…all of the Hellraisers are introduced. Thank you for waiting, and possibly returning to WTEAW, as the updates will begin anew in two weeks, with another chapter up in a…month, maybe in three weeks, who knows, anyway, thanks for reading!

T.L.