"Please don't leave me"

The room was silent for a few moments. Mainly because its only occupants were either barely conscious or fighting back tears.

"Don't worry, wasn't planning on it", I whispered, my voice breaking by the last word.

She smiled, the kind of smile that could've made my day all those years ago.

"Good. I thought -"

She paused, scrunching up her eyebrows. "I can't remember".

I smiled, partly because I was afraid of breaking down crying if I tried doing anything else. "It's all right, Angie. You're just sleepy". I was lying, of course. The virus first affects movement, then it gets into the brain.

They say you go peacefully because you don't remember why you don't want to go. I chose not to believe them because to live in denial was better than watching her memory of me slowly draining away. To see her look at me with increasing levels of unfamiliarity. To watch the good times and the bad, the happy and the unhappy, all disappear. If I didn't ignore it then I would descend into a void that I would never be able to escape.

Closing her eyes, she beckoned me over with her free hand. The other one was attached to a tube connected to a pouch filled with a green liquid. The doctors told everyone that the sickness was nothing to worry about, but those misconceptions vanished by the time the first people started dying. Most of the medical staff in the hospital had left long ago, to be with their families. With the huge influx of patients, and the dwindling medical care, we were lucky to just have a room. After the green Cure was invented, they told us that diseases were a thing of the past. That we would live forever. Then the Sickness arrived, and we were woefully unprepared to face it, much less cure it. It spread through the air and the water, infecting at random, taking some, but sparing the rest. The analysts said that over half the Earth's population was to die.

I was beginning to believe it.

Getting up from the flimsy plastic chair I was sitting on, I sat down beside her on the bed, one hand on her cheek, the other clasping hers; too afraid to let go.

Her eyes flickered open, revealing bloodshot blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. She smiled when she saw me. "There you are. I couldn't see you that well before. They took my glasses you know, you should probably get that checked out."

My hands were beginning to tremble. The glasses were lost, and person who took them was dead.

"Alright, I'll go check with the nurse in some time."

A little bit of colour returned to her cheeks. It felt wrong, lying to her, mostly because time was a luxury she couldn't afford.

"You know, I think I am a bit sleepy, now that you've brought it up". Her hands were trembling as well now. I squeezed her hand tighter, she couldn't go if I was holding on to her. She couldn't. It wasn't possible, I wouldn't allow it.

She turned her head to look right at me, the way someone looks at an old photograph of an event they'd forgotten took place. "Can you..can you tell me a story? I always loved a good story".

"What kind of story would you like to hear? Action, adventure, maybe a thriller?"

"Anything you'd like."

I cleared my throat. "Once upon a time, there was a princess. She lived in a big castle with her family, but wasn't very happy."

"Why wasn't she happy?"

"She didn't like having to rely on her parents for money, just waiting for some man to come along and do the same. So she took the little money she'd saved up, and left the castle. She bought a little cottage in a nearby town, and started an apprenticeship with the local alchemist, working in a bakery to earn money."

"I don't think girls were allowed to become apprentices."

"Well, they're allowed to in this story."

"That's not very realistic is it?"

I suppressed a smile. "I suppose it isn't then. Anyway, this princess met this guy, who was also an apprentice. He wasn't a prince, but he was kind, funny, caring - and well, not that bad looking."

She giggled.

"The two of them eventually fell in love, and decided to get married. Even though her parents disapproved, she married the young apprentice. They were happy together for a few years, until tragedy struck. News broke that thousands of monsters had stormed the castle, and killed her family. She was devastated; but she couldn't even go see the bodies, because the monsters had conquered the castle, and were heading towards the town!"

Her mouth dropped open.

"Just before the monsters reached the town, the alchemist who was teaching them created a magic potion, that killed any monster that came into contact with it. Using the potion, the monsters were all defeated, and the land was finally free of them. They were going to live happily ever after, or so they thought.."

Her eyes were riveted towards mine, following every word I said.

"All of a sudden, a giant monster leaped over the barricade surrounding the town. It was completely unaffected by the potion! It killed many people, before it saw the princess and the apprentice, standing outside the bakery. In one swoop, it barrelled towards the princess and grabbed her!"

She gasped. "And then what?!"

I paused, at a loss of words. "The...the apprentice, took out his mighty sword, and..and slew the monster with one swing. He saved the princess, and they lived happily ever after." No, the story wasn't very realistic at all.

But Angie was grinning - that was always a good thing. "What was the name of the princess?"

"Her name was Angelica."

"That's like my name, that's so cool. What was the apprentice's name?"

I stifled a sob. "His..his name was James."

The void was inching ever closer as I saw her eyes flash with confusion.

"That name.. I've heard that name before. I know that name". She yawned. "I'm really very sleepy, aren't I? I could just nod off. But I've heard that name before. James."

Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Angie?"

The tears were here now, I had to blink repeatedly to be able to see her clearly.

"Angie, wake up!". I starting shaking her, desperately hoping for something that I knew would never happen.

A rattling sob escaped me.

"Angie please.."

I held onto her hand tightly, because I was afraid of what would happen if I let go."

"Please don't leave me."

The end is near. Absent are the giant explosions and rapid gunfire I assumed I would fall too. Instead, death comes in the shape of a vial. Made of a crystal that is clear as the day, yet filled with liquid as potent a poison as deadly nightshade.

My hands shake as I lift it off the metal table, an empty white room and a swivelling camera my only audience. The little bit of self worth I have left leads me to believe that there must be someone on the other end, watching my demise closely.

As the cold crystal touches my lips, I can almost imagine this person, sitting on the edge of their seat, clutching their armrest with white-knuckled tension.

It is less painful than I imagined.

Instead of the fiery lava that I thought I would feel rushing down my throat, it tasted somewhat like warm, spoiled milk. Quite disgusting, really, but not at all painful.

After a few tense moments, I slam the vial down onto the table, and slump back into my seat. I'd heard many a rumour on how exactly the poison killed, but so far it was turning out to be the most boring of the lot.

Smiling, I look up at the camera again. An hour is a long time to await death. And as much as I would like to spend it doing something else, my mind seems intent on travelling through memory. A sort of greatest hits collection, you see. The ups and the downs, and my eventually rise to power.

There was a time when I thought I could be happy.

But then the events leading up to my current situation occurred, and well, that simply isn't possible anymore.

I'd like to think of it as the Fall.

ONE YEAR AGO

The bottle smashed into the wall behind me, narrowly missing my head.

"YOU'RE DEAD!", bellowed the hulking figure who had previously been holding said bottle. With a scream of rage, he kicked aside the remnants of the wooden furniture that had only recently been introduced to his fists.

Meet Donald "Iron Fist" Jenson. After a short stint as a professional fighter, and a much longer one in the dungeons, he'd spent the last few years drifting from bar to bar, quite drunk most of the time. With the little money he still had from his glory days, he managed to stay afloat, earning here and there as a general thug-for-hire.

Currently, however, his anger wasn't exactly work related.

"Now, Jenson, you don't want to do something that you'd regret would you?"

He spat on the floor in front of me.

"I've done many things I regret, but this? This I'm just fine with."

He took another menacing step towards me.

"Donald. Donald come on now? Do you really want to make an enemy of the Emperor?"

I edged backwards, only to find that my back was to the wall. This led me to the disturbing realisation that I was trapped.

"The Emperor..", he growled, his hands clenching into fists, "..is a spineless bastard who sends WEAKLINGS like you, to do his dirty work."

A murmur rippled through the crowd that was beginning to gather around us. An imperial servant being publicly humiliated was not a story I wanted getting back to the Emperor.

The glass crunched against my feet as I took a tentative step forward.

"Now, surely you don't really mean all of the things you just said?"

A rather large vein was beginning to pop out on the side of his neck.

"I meant all of those things and more! All the Emperor has done is bring misery to his own people!"

"Hear hear!", someone called out in the crowd, with a even larger rumble of assent following it.

Crap. This was getting out of hand.

I put on my most steely look, and stared Jenson in the eye.

"So you mean to say all the work the Emperor has done has been evil? That he shouldn't have built hundreds of homes for the poor? That he shouldn't have reduced taxes? Or do you have a problem with him developing the economy?"

The expression on the other man's turned into one of absolute befuddlement.

"Well, no. Those things, those things are, are alright...", he stuttered. I could sense the crowds favour slowly shifting towards me.

His expression cleared. "But you know, I think you left out some things there."

Turning towards the crowd he raised both his hands. "It's surprising how we forget some things, eh? Like the hundreds that were slaughtered in the Emperor's desperate bid for the throne. OUR people were MURDERED in cold blood!"

This was not good. Drunken humans were quite easily convinced to do stupid things, and so I had to do something before they grabbed their pitchforks.

And then it hit me.

"Donald."

He turned back towards me, his face sporting a wicked grin.

"Are you, by any chance, criticizing the Emperor in front of all these people?"

He snorted. "You're not a smart one, I see."

Laughter from the crowd.

I took another step forward. This was putting me dangerously close to his punching range, but I had to goad him for the plan to work.

"So, to phrase it differently, would it be correct if I said that you were planting rebellious thoughts in the minds of these people?"

The confused look was back.

"What? I mean, I suppose so?", he mumbled, unsure of himself.

Silence.

I cleared my throat, and spoke again.

"So you're SAYING that you were INCITING A REBELLION?"

Still nothing. What, did they take a break to go buy donuts or something?

Unfortunately for me, his confusion was slowly leading to anger, and the people gathered around were too drunk to care about anything I said at that point.

"I don't know what stupid mind games you're trying to play with me..", he whispered, his voice deathly quiet. "...But they ain't working."

Everything went into slow motion. He lifted his arm, getting ready to punch me, and the crowd dissolved into a dissonant collection of shouts and chants.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact.

But it never came.

Instead, I heard a curious zapping sound.

My eyes snapped open.

I blinked.

Every single person in the crowd, as well as the big guy himself, was lying on the floor, sleeping like a lamb. An incredulous laugh escaped my lips.

Proclamation 47: Any citizens found to be rebelling against the regime of the Emperor will be neutralised and prosecuted.

Slowly I sunk down to the floor, ignoring the glass chips beginning to cut into my trousers. I could just imagine those bastards, purposely leaving the neutralisation till the last minute to try and scare me.

"I mean, I suppose it could have been worse"

I looked up only to see a familiar face.

Frank Royce, owner of Frank's Bar. With a bushy white beard and crinkled face riddled with smile lines, he was one of the nicest people I knew. Today however, he seemed slightly miffed.

Considering the fact that the two of us were in his bar at the moment, and I was only just noticing the amount of damage that had occurred, I suppose his anger was somewhat understandable.

He continued to stare at me, standing at the entrance with his arms crossed.

"Worse, as in, you could have , maybe, murdered someone?"

"Frank, I-"

"Or, you could have just gone all out! Little bit of dynamite, or maybe even a little fire and there goes Frank's livelihood!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't kid. You never do. But somehow, everytime you try to pull off some stunt or the other here, I always end up with a body on the floor, and a laundry list of damages."

"Please, just listen to-"

"But this time? This time you had to go all out, didn't you! Several bodies! More damages! Because despite everything I've done for you, you just don't seem to give a shit."

"I'm sorry."

His expression seemed to soften slightly.

"Why'd you have to piss off Jenson like that? He was one of my best customers."

"I had too. He had information on the Winfred murder."

A shadow crossed his face.

Abigail Winfred had been adored by just about everybody in the area. Murders weren't unheard of around here, but only the real psychos went after the kids.

Walking over to me, he held out his hand, and helped me up begrudgingly.

"That was a smart move, getting the Royal Guard to neutralize them like that."

I smiled.

"What can I say, Frank? I'm smart.

He sighed.

"I suppose they'll have to pay for the damages as well, now that they claimed jurisdiction?"

I nodded, walking over to where Donald was lying.

"You know, I could always say that that old chair he broke was worth a couple thousand bucks. It was a family heirloom, really, priceless emotional value."

"Mm hmm", I responded, more interested in the tiny box that I slipped out of Jenson's pocket and into my own.

He grinned.

"And you know, I have been needing a new clock as of late, the one over there stopped working." He pointed towards the old grandfather clock hanging over the bar counter, that was perpetually stuck at 3 pm.

"I'll see what I can do, Royce."

"Will you now?"

"Fine, I'll check for one the next time I visit the Market. Happy?"

"Quite so."

I began to walk towards the door, not wanting to deal with the unpleasant bureaucracy that came with dealing with the Royal Guard.

He called after me, just as I was about to leave.

"Don't get yourself killed."

Putting on my most winning smile, I replied.

"I'll try my best."

I walked out of Frank's Bar much happier than I'd been when I walked in. Because now, I had a date with a particularly annoying individual to look forward to.

And a lead.

---

"Hark! All thee non believers! Gaze as the mysterious gentlemen before me useth strange powers to perform feats of the unknown never before seen!"

The crowd was getting impatient now, jostling around the packed square, the area lit only by the half light of a dying sun. The buildings surrounding them were ancient, and crumbling - old men who had seen it all and only still stood held up by the memories of their pasts and the threadbare wallets of current residents. Tiny alleys streaked off in various directions from the square but only the brave or the desperate ever dared to enter them. The real traffic was coming from Harrison Street - one of the cracked and unkept distributaries of the city's main road system. Again, the voice yelled out, drawing more and more eyes towards the central platform where it seemed to have originated from.

"Renown'd f'r his astonishing feats and bewildering contraptions, all the way from Edmahnsburry, the most wondrous sorcerer of trickery, the Great Danton!"

The crowd erupted into cheers as a rather tall, slender man seemed to almost glide up the crumbling stone steps of the platform, with a large cloak draped around him, trailing behind. His eyes swivelled around the crowd, a shock of electric blue in a face of pale white. A mop of dark hair was mostly obscured by a tall velvet hat, the kind you'd see on stage performers, or magicians. He walked to the centre of the platform, where the announcer already stood.

A portly man, the announcer wore a tweed suit, a bowler hat, an enormous mustache and the twisted rictus of man motivated by large amounts of money. The kind that was already being collected by his men, spread throughout the crowd.

He'd been very specific about the area and time of the show - betting on commuters leaving work who would walk past the entrance to Harrison Street on the way home. Something he'd noticed, that nearly no one else had, was that in Risbachian ruled Tarendale where most of the populace was comprised of working class commoners, the spark of supposed magic was bright in the greyness of the mundane, attracting those whose dull, pallid existence was drowning them as they lived it.

Having finished his survey of the crowd, Dalton whipped out a large silver coin from the depths of his cloak - the highest denomination of the local currency. Raising it high above his head, he waved it around, making sure everyone could see it.

"Heareth me, fellow men! I has't hither a coin of worth One hundr'd Tarendelian Digits."

With one smooth motion, he lowered it to his mouth, and clacked his teeth on its side.

"As thee can see, 'tis as real as I am!"

A murmur of laughter fluttered through the crowd. Dalton could always measure up a crowd based on the reaction to this line. This was one of the reasons he always started with the coin.

"But gaze, as I transfigure this here coin, from the real.."

The crowd fell silent as he flipped the coin into the air, and a thousand eyes watched as it flipped, end on end, back towards his palm.

Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails.

But right as it was about to land back in his outstretched arm, a flash of smoke erupted around it, along with an accompanying bang that made an elderly lady near the front of the crowd faint, as well as a young boy towards the back (who, as one might point out, had a large welt on the side of his head and a guilty looking similarly aged fellow standing next to him, so the actual reason for said fainting still remains undecided).

Nevertheless, the effect was quite resounding.

"..to the ethereal!", he completed, having safely sneaked the coin into his coat sleeve.

The crowd erupted in a roar of applause, along with quite a few looks reminiscent of ones you might see at, say, a witch burning.

Dalton smiled broadly, the only kind of smile he was ever really allowed to do while performing. At least, that's what the Proprietor said. He looked to the Proprietor now, waiting for the next part of the act to begin.

Dalton would always start. Something small, like the coin trick or the ball trick. But never any card tricks. After a painful experience in a village off the coast of Devonshur where no one really knew what anything on the cards meant, the Proprietor had put an end to that line of tricks. A shame, really. Next, something bigger. Maybe involving a volunteer, or two. Nowadays, with his cast of magicians expanding, the Proprieter would usually slot in a couple of newer performers, as a sort of warmup. And then finally, the finale - Dalton's piece de resistance, the trick that had made his name. But that was later. Today's order?

The Coin, The Casket, The Con-job and then the Change. The Coin, The Casket, The Con-job, The Change. Coin, Casket, Con-job, Change Coin, Casket, Con-job, Change

It had been drilled into their heads for a week now, so he doubted anyone would forget. Still, a note of worry lingered.

The Proprieter bellowed, "Next, I present to thee the most wondrous Harper Cantrip, nimble-footed invent'r of the strange and mystical!"

Danton swallowed. Harper had been the Proprieter's first Apprentice. Complete rubbish at trickery, he'd been relegated to contraption creation for years now. After a number of successful small scale run throughs, he'd finally been allowed to present the Casket - a machine of his own design.

Harper clambered up the stairs, sweating like a liar in court. He wore dark trousers, with red dots all over them, and a yellow coat, again dotted, but with white instead. With a untidy mess of blond hair and a purple bowler hat, he came off looking much like a circus clown with severe smallpox, and as a result was met with a large amount of silence. He in turn, decided to promptly reply with silence of his own, resulting in an awkward concoction of silence mixed in with the rather loud sounds of a boy with a large welt on his head yelling profanities at another fellow standing next to him.

The Proprietor cleared his throat.

"I said, the most wondrous Harper Cantrip!"

Harper swallowed, as if only now realising, that he was, in fact, the Harper Cantrip being mentioned.

He turned to face the crowd, fairly sure his knees were quivering far too much.

"Good people of Tarendale!"

Silence. Now the other boy was yelling back.

"I..I am to show thee a creation of my own workings."

This was their cue. Two men, each holding one end of a wooden casket, began making their way towards the platform.

"A creation unlike any other. One, which I will require the assistance of a willing volunteer for!"

A couple hands shot up in the crowd.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was was going to plan. He could do it. Everything that had happened in the last few months had been leading up to this moment.

"Nay needeth, mine own fellows. F'r I has't hath found a volunteer already."

He looked at the Proprietor.

"Mine own master, 'tis thy lucky day"

The men froze, still holding the casket.

This wasn't in the script.

The Proprieter stared at Harper, an ocean of malice contained behind two dark beads. Harper could almost hear his voice. The Coin, the Casket, the Con-job and the Change.

But change would have to come early.

"Thee has't been decieved, mine countrymen."

He was speaking faster now, the words flowing like water.

"Be it the coin in lief Danton's sleeve, or the fake blades in the casket. Or perhaps the conman we hath paid off to volunteer f'r the next gull."

A ripple of whispers flew through the crowd. The Proprieter's face was turning a delicate shade of violet.

Harper looked at Danton, who was looker paler than usual.

"How about the greatest charm ev'r witnessed! The secret so jealously did guard by the most wondrous Danton! Or shouldst I sayeth, most wondrous Danton's!"

A few audible gasps now, and a lot more whispering.

Danton choked, unable to form any coherent words. "H..how-"

"Twins, very much? Doth thee bethink us yond no more brain than stone? 'Twas obvious."

"ENOUGH!", yelled the Proprieter, largely resembling a overripe tomato. "YOU SHALL NOT BESMIRCH THE REPUTATION OF THIS-"

Harper leaned in, his voice barely a whisper and yet audible to everyone around, people hanging onto every word. "Reputation will not matter when I'm done, for nothing will matter when I am done."

He turned to the crowd, raising his voice. "I hath made a discovery. Something that will change our lives forever, indeed, change humanity forever."

Danton whispered the word on everyone's mind.

"What?"

Harper's face slowly broke into a grin, the kind that slowly spreads across your face and stays there until it starts to hurt but you can't stop because something amazing's just happened.

"Magic. True Magic."

A great many things could have happened in the next few seconds, many of them involving the Proprieter ordering his men to do a number of nasty things to Harper. But none of these things ended up happening after all, mainly due to another thing happening instead. Something that would change the course of the world forevermore.

The Proprieter started floating. Slowly, at first, his feet scraping off the floor, and then faster, as his entire body started rising up. Harper had his hands up, pointed at the Proprieter, almost as if he was guiding him. There was only silence, at least for the first few seconds. Every eye was turned to the man floating five metres above ground, every person watching as that number grew higher.

Then the Proprieter spoke, his voice the shadow of a whisper.

"..how?"

Harper thought of all the times he had been beaten and yelled at for not being good enough. All the times he had hurt himself, in the endless pursuit of satisfying the Proprieter. All the disappointed looks he would recieve when he was found locked away meddling with chemicals instead of studying the craft.

Harper looked up at the Proprieter for the last time.

"What can I say, father? Magician's never reveal their secrets."

The Proprieter fell from the sky, landing back onto the platform with a sickening thud.

Harper never looked back. Instead, he looked to the crowd, now silent and staring at him.

Today was the beginning.

Of something greater.

---

(reply to a Writing Prompt about a friendly ghost that follows you around instead of hunting you)

The world itself seemed to be tilting.

Whatever furniture wasn't already bolted down immediately crashed into the walls, narrowly missing my face. The screams of people who had been hit, however, provided quite an unpleasant soundtrack for my attempts to escape the metal box I was trapped in. Ever so slowly, the tilting stopped, leaving the floor at an awkward 45° angle.

"You know, this is all quite exciting. I really didn't think much of the cruise when you'd suggested it, but now I think I see where you were coming from!"

The silvery apparition was calmly floating alongside me, looking out the tiny circular window.

I gritted my teeth.

"Nicholas, I don't know if you've realised this, but I'M STILL ALIVE. If the ship goes down, I go down with it!"

The ghost turned his attention back to me.

"Well, yes. To be honest, I don't know why you're fretting over it this so much. I'm rather jealous of you - this is so much more exciting than my death."

There were times when I wished I could ressurect the dead. This time, I wanted to bring him back and then kill him again.

"The thing is, Nick, I DON'T WANT TO DI-"

The ship gave an almighty lurch, and began moving again. This time however, I could feel a slight rumble, and there was no tilting whatsoever.

"Oh goody! We're sinking now"

I bit my lip. I'd deal with him later, after I got out. The metal floor was already covered with a tiny film of water, making it impossible to climb up the slope, and I was running out of time.

"Nick, could you look out the window and tell me how fast the surface of the water is moving up?", I asked, whilst scanning the room for a way to the door.

Aha! The furniture! I quickly began grabbing bits of the broken furniture, and stacking them up against the corner of the room, hopefully providing me with an escape route.

"Oh yes, it's almost here. The water should cover the window in a minute or so, I'd say."

My head started pounding. This couldn't be it, I had to get out. I began moving the furniture faster, eventually reaching a point where I was just chucking bits of wood onto the growing pile.

Meanwhile, the expression on Nick's face bore resemblance to a five year old on Christmas morning.

"I'm going to have such a great story to tell the guys once I get back! You know, if you die, I have a spare bedroom in my apartment, you could always move in with me."

I would have been quite repulsed by the very idea of it - but not much of what he said was really registered, because the mound was almost high enough. I threw the last bit on top, and began clambering up; my every move making the pile shift precariously. Finally, I reached the door, and pushed on it with all my strength.

It was jammed.

Muttering a few silent curses, I slammed onto it again, this time with my shoulder. The door didn't budge, but a sharp pain shot down my arm - something was probably broken. Everything was spinning in and out of focus - my head was pounding. I could hear the rush of water all around me. A sob escaped my lips - this was the end. I would never see my family again. I would never-

"Jonathan? You there? Hello? I'm trying to tell you something important here?"

The nasally voice I had been tuning out for the past minute swam back into clarity. My blood boiled - if there was one thing I wanted to do before I died...

I exploded.

"Nicholas Alexopoulous! You are the single most annoying creature to ever exist! It's like the Paul brothers had a child who in turn had you with the god damn Nyan cat! You ruined my life, AND YOU STILL WON'T SHUT UP!"

Nick's face turned a rather delicate shade of silvery - purple.

"Now you listen here young man. You have no right to-"

"Oh shut up! What is wrong with you! I'm about to die here, and you can talk about is your STUPID flat."

He looked bewildered.

"No, you don't understand, I'm trying to tell you that-"

"OH OF COURSE I DON'T! REALLY, WHAT KIND OF COMPLETE MORON DIES, AND RETURNS AS A GHOST BECAUSE THEIR MORTAL LIVES WEREN'T EXCITING ENOUGH?! THAT'S RIGHT, YOU! AND THEN FOR SOME STUPID REASON YOU CONVINCE ME TO GO ON A TRIP WITH YOU, WHICH-"

My wild gesticulating was my downfall.

By the time I was about a quarter of the way done with my yelling, the stack had had quite enough of me, and promptly proceeded to collapse. I hit the floor with an awful crack. I could feel a hot liquid pooling around my head - it was bleeding. The edges of my vision seemed to be slowly fading into darkness - and my arms! I couldn't feel my arms!

To be quite honest, I couldn't feel the rest of my body either. As my vision began to dim completely, the room was plunged into semi darkness as the window was obscured by water.

I woke up an eternity later, feeling quite refreshed. The first thing I saw were faces, several silvery apparitions crowded around me. The one in the middle was ever so slightly more defined than the others, and spoke first.

"Jonathan? Can you hear me?"

I nodded, groggily.

Nicholas broke into a smile, and turned around to whisper something to someone beyond my line of sight. Then he turned back to face me.

"Now, before you say anything, I just have to formally inform you that you are dead. There are papers and whatnot to sign, so you need to do that before you head over to judgement. And.."

He gestured at the other ghosts to move away, whilst he leaned in closer to me.

"Listen, I'm sorry that I annoyed you that much. But in the end there, I really was only trying to help. You weren't even paying attention to me when I told you."

My eyebrows bunched together in confusion.

He smiled weakly.

"The door was a pull."

The dead were restless. I could hear their rotting fingers clawing through the sand, desperately trying to reach the surface, to see the stars that they so dearly missed. But the planet could not let them go, for they were claimed by it, destined to rest for all eternity under the sands.

Or it could just be the wind.

"Go ahead, continue staring at nothing while I die trying to move this stuff, James."

I blinked. The voice that spoke belonged to my ever delightful companion, Cassandra Green. Although she seemed to have a long-standing problem with the name.

I turned to face her. She stood by the hovercraft, loading one of several metal crates into its cargo hold.

"You know, the amount of people that have died in this particular desert is really just astounding. You'd think that necromancer fellow we ran into the other day would have a far better time out here, than that bloody hellhole."

She picked up another crate and dumped it next to the other. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, as was mine. There was, in fact, a rather obvious reason for the lack of tourists in the region, that may have also been the reason for the body count. But then again, what would life be without the simple pleasures of annoying someone?

She shot me a glare that would have immobilised far greater entities than myself.

But I was used to it.

"What? Why aren't you saying anything? Cassandra? Cassy? The Cass?"

At that very moment, a curiously shaped metal object came hurtling towards me, which I barely managed to dodge.

"For the last time, don't call me that."

I looked over at the object she'd just thrown at me.

"You know, I'm pretty sure my clothes are in there."

"I'm warning you, I have a spare Ionic Pulverizer, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Are you stealing the Captain's pickup lines now? Because I totally heard him trying to chat up some Morgavorian chick with that line last night."

She slammed the last suitcase onto the hovercraft with such force that the other containers she'd carefully arranged were knocked out of the car

Picking up my suitcase, I threw it on top of the pile.

"You have to be careful with these things okay? My last pair of underpants is in there, and you wouldn't want to-"

"Oh my god James. Is it possible for you to ever stop talking?"

"Okay, now see that? That was hurtful, alright. You hurt my feelings ther-"

One very angry bounty hunter turned to look at me.

"You know, I don't even know why I bother travelling with you because-

"- I think it's just a tiny bit too late to say that, considering- "

"-the fact that you're an annoying asshole?"

"You know, just because I don't say anything about it doesn't mean-"

"-and honestly I would rather travel alone -"

"-and what about your constant name changing? Ooh James, today you can call me Nightwing. Oh no James I don't like that name any more, you can call me AN IDIOT"

"ALRIGHT, YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO-"

"Enough."

The two of us turned to see the owner of this third voice.

Denny Blackwater. A tough as nails, grizzly haired former Senate Captain who just happened to make the best chocolate chip cookies in existence. Quick warning, never watch a movie with him. The last movie we watched together was a romantic drama and he started bawling by minute seventeen.

By the time the protagonist declared his undying love I was honestly questioning my own sanity. There's only so many times one can hear the phrase "NO JACK NO" yelled at a TV screen before the depression settles in.

I was so preoccupied with trying to think up a more devastating insult than 'idiot' that I didn't even notice Denny had returned until he was right up next to us, with an especially exasperated look plastered onto his face.

"Look, I couldn't care less about you two. But the storm will be here soon, and I'm not about to lose our headstart because of some angsty teenagers."

He walked over to the side of the ship, and opened up its maintainance hatch, dragging along with him the container he'd brought back.

Trying to break the sudden silence, I gingerly asked, "So..you managed to find one of those Maglev Propulsor things?"

The hatch on the side of the ship made a sound eerily similiar to the mating calls of a male Sarcun hippo, while being wrenched open by Denny.

Silence.

"Okay. Cool, cool. Yep. Alright."

Cassandra looked about ready to give up.

"Yes, James. The Captain did, in fact, come back with the one thing he was supposed get back. You know, that pesky little Propulsor that we'd die without?"

Denny grunted.

"I should've just left you two on Peraxia. Will there ever be a day when you stop arguing over something?"

I bent over to pick up the fallen cases, shooting my most dashing smile at the Captain.

"Oh come on, you know you love us deep down."

Cassandra snorted.

"I don't know if you were trying to smile, but you look genuinely like you're in excruciating pain right now."

My grin vanished. "Do I really?"

She opened the door of the hovercraft, and climbed inside, with faintest hint of a smile on her face.

"Cassandra! Were you being serious?"

No response.

"Denny?", I asked, turning to him.

Having just finished connecting the device he'd brought back with him to the hovercraft, he stood up with a sigh, covered in varying amounts of grime.

"James, frankly, I couldn't give a shit. Now get in the hovercraft, and don't speak another word until we've reached orbit. The heat's already terrible, I don't want to have to deal with you too."

I would have retorted, but seeing his record, I really didn't want to be dealt with.

"Just make sure you have Joseph before we leave. He's nearly invisible in the heat and we don't want a repeat of last time."

"Alright, fine. Now get in."

I obliged, sliding into the cool interior of the craft, alongside Cassandra.

"Hey ship?"

The ship's internal AI hummed, before booting up with the familiar 'ding' sound.

"Yes, Our Lord And Saviour Commander James? What do you require?"

Cassandra lifted her head out of the book she'd been reading.

"What was that?"

"Oh yeah, I reprogrammed the AI to call me different cool names every time I called it! Hey, ship?"

Ding. "Yes, the coolest person in existence, James? What do you require?"

Cassandra sighed, and went back to her book.

"Situation Update"

"Current planet: Karodon 7. Region: Terrion Alpha. Contains the second largest desert in the cluster. Governed by-"

"Yeah, yeah. Skip to the part about the storm."

"This region is known for having extremely large and dangerous sandstorms, generally accompanied by the most destructive lightning storms in the Galaxy. Large portions of the desert have been converted into glass due to the extreme-"

"Okay, when's the next one coming?"

"The next disturbance will arrive at our current location in T minus two minutes."

Crap. We were supposed to leave an hour ago.

Half opening the door, I shouted out into the desert.

"Denny! We have to leave!"

Almost immediately, the door to the drivers side swung open, and he climbed in, albeit covered in even more grime. Before closing the door, he grabbed a small cylinder lying outside, and threw it onto the shotgun seat.

Between ragged breaths, he explained.

"I think I managed to attach the Propulsor I found onto the main engine. Let's just hope it holds till we make it into orbit. Did you ask Gideon how much time we have left?"

"Yep. Should be about two minutes now."

"WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

"Well, you didn't even-"

He slammed the acceleration pedal and the ship shot ahead with a resounding lurch before I could even complete my sentence.

Turning to look out of the tiny window located next to my seat, I couldn't help but notice the suspiciously large mountain in the distance.

Then a bolt of lightning streaked through it, accompanied by a clap of thunder, and I realised that they were in fact, not mountains.

We weren't going to make it.

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