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Won't be long until I'm ready to send this one up, week at the most really. But to whet, check it out.


"I've got to go", Desmond said holding Ira close to him. "I know you don't want me to, but someone has to stop them before this gets even worse than it is right now."

"But why there," Ira said grasping his back in as tight of a hug as she could manage. Broad as he was sometimes she wondered if she could get her arms around him. "These Blue Armors they made, they've barely been combat tested short of skirmishes. And they're useless against hyper zoanoids which I'm sure they'll have plenty of them. It's a War Relic!"

"The Guyvers we have will be there. Those new ones from Japan are with us too, not just Sean. Ira, we'll win."

She sighed. "You didn't say you'll LIVE."

Desmond sighed. Still a Private in the marines, without this whole Chronos thing going on they'd probably be refering him as Private First Class Desmond Pike. He took his wifes last name after their marriage. No point in holding on to it afterward. Too many bad memories associated with it. His family, his brother, his first wife. Ira was older than him sure, and though she was not replacing Cassandra he felt he loved her more. Cassandra was wonderful he always told himself. But she was not perfect for him. There was an odd relationship between them. One that left him seeing her not as a partner but more of a charge. Like he was supposed to always watch out for her.

But she's dead now. Desmond wouldn't forget her but he would never play pretend from the truth. When Chronos attacked the city and she was killed he didn't feel like he thought he should. There was remorse, but a far larger feeling of relief. Relief that he would no longer have to watch her moves and stay so close behind. Stop being a protector, an alien feeling. Fighting was one thing, but protecting just didn't seem the right thing to him. People protect themselves, and protect those who are willing to fight. Protecting those who had neither the nerve or the desire to protect themselves seemed wrong to him. It was an evil feeling, but he could not deny who he was.

'The Strong shall create the next generation, the weak must be winnowed'. An evil and cold attitude, but one that he saw as natural as life itself. It was present everywhere. The weak die to feed the strong.

Cassandra was weak, and in turn made him weak for protecting her. This was much better. Ira needed no one to protect her, she handled life with zeal and fire. In turn her strength made him stronger. And together their strength was enough to survive and prosper. Not feeding upon eachother like parasites, but ruling the land around them like Lions. That was the right way to live. Do no harm except in protection, and let no slight go unpunished. Desmond didn't understand people, but he understood tactics, strategy, and power.

This is not to say he did not understand compassion, or felt things like love or passion. Desmond saw it as leaning his moral compass toward neturality. If you protect a child from everything you make the child weak. If you don't protect them from what they can't handle than you weaken them. A matter of evolution, the next generation being better than yours. Should the next generation be weaker it is not their fault, it is yours.

"There is a very good chance I will die. You know that. And you also know I will not die willingly."

Ira nods. "Yes," she said wiping away a tear. "Fight then, and fight to the last."

"Hopefully not the last, Ira."

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