3D3N

Like all fairy tales, one must start from the beggining, an explanation, a description. Of how things are and how things were. A long-winded story that whittles down to the core.

Unfortunately, the ones who started this story didn't have that much freedom and time. After all, out of the five, there was only one left. And this one certainly was in no mood to tell stories.

"Red of body, green of mind, white of soul, and blackest of memory."

The low murmured voice of the Japanese man seemed to echo inside the dark cavern. His hand delved in his pockets and brought out three rectangular crystals, about the size of a dogtag. Each crystal was of a different color, red, green, and a rather silvery-white. In the dark, each seemed to glow; the red and green clashing against the other, but neither could block the silver shimmer the white one had.

He reached up with his spare hand to brush away the hair stuck to his forehead in sweat, while his other hand clutched the crystals tight. In the dense silence of the underground cavern hall, each sound was magnified. And he found himself reacting badly to each and every thing he hears.

A month of non-stop running and fighting can wear on any man's nerves. Add to that the fact that this quest of his was doomed from the start. One man he had lost to Eden's overall fuckery, the second had vanished in the middle of the night, the remains of his well-chewed head; a rather unsettling notice of his demise. The third succumbed to sickness, a virus that ate the man's skin to his flesh, until the leader had to end his life to spare him the pain of feeling his numerous invisible mouths nibbling away at him. The fourth had logically taken his own life, the wildness and all the misfortunes driving him mad until he had taken a knife to his neck.

He had to admit though, even he was on the edge of breaking down. Many a times during the last week had he found himself talking to no-one in particular, the topic of the conversation and his conversation partner; a mystery.

If not for sheer will and stubborness, he would have crumpled mentally. He knew how to take care of himself, knew what to avoid, and how to survive. There had been some near misses, and several actual dangers; but he had soldered on. Walked forward until he reached his goal.

And here he was, alone and unsure of his next action. His orders hadn't been clear. Travel from Point A to Point B, retrieve the package and return to Point A. The briefing did not mention in what form the package will be though. All he knew was that it will be relevant to mankind's survival, a tide-turner, a weapon.

And so he roused himself from his near-comatose state, shouldered his now lighter pack and staved on, the gigantic hall progressively growing darker.


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This place had suffered badly. Cracked walls and uneven floors was a predominant theme. Flacking wallpapers and water-logged ceilings, for interior design. It would have been a wonderful building in the past, sadly; the flooded off rooms and hallways weren't exact reminders.

He had followed the large hall into several branching smaller hallways. Deep in the half-submerged building, the light he used to navigate was provided by the flourescent molds thriving in the wet environment. Their light, a dull green provided enough clearance for him to avoid walking into accidents and floor-less rooms and hallways.

The goal seemed unreachable, if you take into account the overall status of the area. This weapon, whatever it may be, might be three floors down, submerged and unreachable by human strenghts.

Still he kept searching, hands tight on the tags he needed to activate the goal.

Assured that the lowest penetrable floor was covered, he climbed higher. Each floor was set up the same as the one below it. Higher he climbed, making sure to poke through every pokeable surface. The higher he went, the more information he got about the building. It was like a lab/office building. Some floors were filled with office rooms and cubicles, the smell of damp paper and rot was overpowering on these office floors. Others were filled with laboratories, glass cases, animal cages, broken down machines and a lot of things he'd only seen in the old movies cluttered the place. Still he climbed higher, resting his weary legs every couple of floors.

Until he reached that place.

The last floor he was on didn't have an exit stairway, and it had the same room layout as the previous office floors. Moving around, he did find a large disrepancy.

Said disrepancy was a single set of stairs, the top; a shadowed area.

Up these stairs he climbed, eyes trying to make out the vague shapes that filled this last floor. His spatial sense told him that this place was big, and empty. Empty save for a large tank, or was it a metal pillar; in the middle of the room?

He hesitated at the top of the stairs, legs poised to take the first step in, when he ran back down and grabbed a large clump of the glowing moss.

The green glowing moss made an odd sort of lighted walkway between the steps to the metal pillar, a creepy and yet assuring reminder of the path he had taken.

On closer inspection, the huge thing in the middle of the floor really was both a water tank and a pillar. From ceiling to floor it stretched, it's use unknown due to its oddly huge size.

The small clump of glowing moss he held was enough to aid his vision as he went round the pillar, all ten foot across of it. There were no consoles near it, no panels to operate; not that any machines will be operable in this age. All it had was a sort of depressed circle, head-high.

His hand brushed against the metal plating, and found that the plate would actually slide back with some effort. This he tried, grunting and swearing until the full circle was bared. From the uncovered spot, silver light spilled out and he found himself blinking against the sudden brilliance.

Was this the weapon?

He could see some sort of water, and something tendril-like floating freely in the liquid. Stepping closer until his face was nearly pressed against the glass, for that was what the circle was; he gasped.


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Hurriedly, his hands roamed over smooth metal, fingers seeking anything that stood out. His right hand collided painfully with something near his waist and he hurriedly lowered the moss to that area.

A small rectangle was soldered against the smooth curve of the pillar. Four depressions lined up in the rectangle itself. He recognized the size and he swiftly dug out the tags from his pocket.

"Red of body..."

In went the red tag, locking effortlessly in the first hole. The silver light from the hole flashed a pale red but he paid it no heed.

"Green of mind..."

The second tag, the emerald went in. A green flash this time that he noted half-heartedly.

"White of soul..."

And the last one went in, the dull silver, now brighter.

But the last hole remained and he remembered the last line of the sentence.

"Blackest of memories."

Which he didn't have.

Unsure of what to do next, he wondered if he could force the tank, for that was what it was; open.

As he looked around for a pipe or a lever to use, the tank seemed to grow impatient and decided to act on its own.

All three tags glowed their respective colors before popping out of their place. He hurried to collect them and slowly stepped back, eyes locked on the tank.

Like an unravelling puzzle, thin silver lines appeared on the metal surface as the small rectangular pieces slid back on each other to reveal more of the glass tank it protected. It also uncovered more of the tank's content, something that he was loathe to accept.

Throughly opened, until it more or less resembled a glass aquarium; the tank began to drain it's contents. The water volume subsided and he found himself hurrying the process along by breaking the glass with a broken chair he found.

With a deafening crash and a short shower of glass, he found himself kneeling besides the wet figure, arms cradling the white form.

His fingers parted the wet grey bangs covering the pale face, and his warm palm pressed against a freezing cheek. He only realized he was holding his breath when he released it heatedly over the figure's face.

Pale eyelashes fluttered and warmth seemed to flow through the slight body once again. The heavy lids opened slowly and Rai found himself peering into the most unusual green eyes he'd ever seen. They seemed to swim and flicker, something like smoke on water despite the dull light of the moss. And the way they were landed on him did nothing to settle his frayed nerves.

And they both took a badly needed breathe.

TBC...

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Woot! I am a bad bad person!!! I should be flogged or better yet be neutered, if I had the necessary equipment for neutering.

Another story from me despite the UNFINISHED status for my other Eden stories. Heh! Fret not! For the Post and the Thief are in desperate need of a rewrite and rearrangement. Basically, those two really will be on hiatus until I find the godamn bridges that connect these three... there should be a bridge somewhere yonder...