The next morning, as it were, was a bit disconcerting. It wasn't the first time Eyeball had awoken in bed with a stranger; there were a few women over the years since Emerald had left him, but usually he woke up in one of the hotel rooms on La Famiglia; this time... the bed seemed to be his own. Only... not quite.

The warm body draped over his torso was, of course, Kezia. In the dim light of her quarters, her curves looked even better than they had in her skin-tight undersuit; if the Romani girl wasn't the most beautiful one he'd ever shared a bed with, she was definitely the most dangerous, in a variety of ways. Emerald could likely have cooked him alive in his sleep, if she'd had a mind to. His first girlfriend had only been dangerous in the sense she might have got him in prison.

Penelope didn't really count, of course. That relationship was... practically sexual assault, for all intents and purposes. Kezia, though...

Sure, she'd gotten him drunk. And whatever wine she'd used had to be something special, to work on the two of them. But.. he'd very definitely made the choice here. He relaxed. This wouldn't last long. He probably wouldn't be alive long enough for it to really matter. Might as well enjoy it while he could. He tried to think back to the night before. The activities later on were fairly clear, but early on...

Ahh, yes. Getting a big surge of energy all at once would have a much greater impact than just a tiny trickle that added up the same, over a long period of time, and removing it was the same way. Odin could probably have his eye fixed if he wanted. Then there'd been a long chat about her family, his history; a brief discussion about how her family wasn't sure if them all being immune to life-draining was a coincidence of genetics or mandatory; whether any unborn child of their family who lacked that power would die long before birth. Some dark jokes about dead children and dead comrades-in-arms. And of course... wine. Two bottles. Of something... different.

This woman had accidentally wiped out a forest while training with her powers; from the largest tree to the smallest gnat, and all the deer and brush in between. She'd also deliberately killed quite a few people, possibly a few others by accident, and likely healed a smaller number as well; most of it in service to the USA. Her whole family had stories like that, it seemed.

She also, much like himself, looked younger than she really was, and had a toned, tanned, perfect form; or not really tanned; an olive complexion; he wasn't sure whether he was pale-skinned because he'd had the impact of the sun washed away with this life-changing, or because he'd spent so many years wearing full body-armor and a face-covering helmet, but whatever reason, it formed a nice contrast.

She let out a soft grumble. "Awake, are we? Well. How long do we have before I need to kill another world?"

Eyeball chuckled, and gave her a gentle squeeze; uncertain just how much intimacy she was looking for, but then, her arm was still wrapped around him. "Over a week. And, honestly, I'd lay odds the Emperor will be there waiting for us, you might not need to do that again. It takes us a week to make the trip, for him, they have no idea of his speed limitations; he might make it in hours."

"Ugh. Thats all well and good. Gives me a week to relax. Its not as bad, with plants, animals. Non-sentient stuff. Thats the best. It brings you closer to nature; more in tune with your body, your instincts. What's bad is.... people. Comes with a.... flavor." She shifted as she lay on him, pulling closer. "I wouldn't mind doing that again to a world like that. If I have to do it to this 'Capital', and a couple hundred billion 'people', it's gonna suck. I'm gonna come out of it weighing literally tons, and I'm never gonna be able to just walk in the sand and the soil again."

Eyeball chuckled. At the doctor yesterday, he'd been told he was now well over seven hundred pounds; which should be impossible for his relatively normal-looking form. The Romani girl might not like to admit it, but that 'tons' figure might well already be a reality. The changes to the body that the increased life force brought did have a real, measurable, physical impact. "Well. You don't have to. The plan doesn't require it, it just makes the plan more likely to work."

She lifted her upper body off of the bed. "Do you still think the plan ends with you dead?"

"...Yes. When it comes to the long-term, I don't 'see' the future, I've got sort-of... instincts, pushing me towards or away from certain decisions. One major time that I didn't listen to it, for example, I got ambushed, knocked out, and a friend got abducted. So while I don't just follow it like a puppet, I play close attention to whether things 'feel' right. And for this one... before leaving, it felt right to put a will together, put my head engineer in charge of the company, and get my affairs in order. Which, to me, means I'm probably not making it back home."

She slowly nodded, and laid down atop his chest, looking at him from inches away. "Interesting. That's one possibility. It might also mean that you just decide not to go back to earth. Wander the stars, forever, as the Emperor-Slayer."

He nodded. "Or fake my own death and go back under the ID of one of my marines, if one of them die on the mission. Or all sorts of other possibilities. None of them seem likely from where I'm laying now, I don't see myself dragging all these folks with me on an endless space adventure, but who knows. I haven't given up on life, but.... I've accepted the idea of possibly dying and just hoping it was under 'heroic' circumstances for well over a decade now."

Kezia tapped him on the nose with one finger. "I know, Kamikaze. Grandpa Hendricks told me how you two met. So. If we both make it back to earth alive. Any plans?"

A long, slow breath. The amount of pressure she was putting on his chest was far too much for such a small woman. It was like having an anvil squeezing him... but then again, an anvil was nothing to him now. "I used to talk about retiring, and going off to relax on a beach somewhere. Don't think I can do that now. If I go back home, I'll probably let a few key people know I'm still kicking... Valkyrie, Butch, Engineer, and of course my kids. Otherwise..."

He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I've no idea. Maybe build a house inside Valkyrie's compound so I can see the kids every day. Wander the world, do a little thieving, slay a tyrant or two, maybe go back out into space eventually when we're not worried about the end of everything.... and under an ID not so famous. Or infamous."

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She smiled. "There room for more in that house? Not looking to settle down right now, but you're one of the sort I'd be interested in when the time comes."

He looked into her eyes.. a pair of tiny, beautiful emeralds. Not everything had to remind him of her. This woman wasn't 'better' than her. The idea would be absurd. But certainly someone worth getting to know. "...If we both live through this? There just might be."

***

Captain Moreau leaned back against the wall as the marines lined up in the cargo bay; with the exotic young woman, Rebecca Chambers, RC, in an oil-dripping uniform standing out in front of them. It seemed half of his marines, at least, had shacked up with one of the engineering crew; he tried to guess, from the way they were looking, which might have been with RC.

None of the marines were in their battle-armor; in fact, all of their battle-armor had been taken apart for parts, and they simple wore 'skinsuits'; the skin-tight under-armor garment that, with a helmet, doubled as an emergency space-suit; that he himself wore, with minor adjustments, as a uniform. Mostly so as not to look skin tight; he didn't want that sort of distraction among the on-duty crew.

RC was tapping buttons on a console, as a crane lifted an armored gauntlet. "Alright, gentlemen. This is our Space Marine armor mark II. Each armor suit weighs roughly three tons, and is a blend of chromium-nickel-cobalt alloy. None of it is field-ready yet; Eyeball and Kezia are going to be enchanting it all before we see battle."

She stopped, and turned to the first marine to cross her eye. "Dubois! Front and center." The marine stepped forward at attention, almost saluting before catching himself and lowering his arm. "Aside from Rex, none of our engineering team are strong enough to wear these things properly, so he's the only one who was able to test it. All of us are augmented, but if I try walking in a three-ton suit, I'm like a turtle's slower, clumsier cousin. For you gentlemen... it will be the equivalent of light armor. And it will be softer than your bones."

As Dubois stood in place, RC and Rex began demonstrating how to put each piece of the new armor on. "This gear's purpose isn't really to protect you. It's to carry as many weapons as possible, and allow them to keep firing, as you get hit. Your skin is roughly as tough as this material. Your muscles, tougher. Your bones, vastly superior. A blast that turns this armor into slag will likely leave you alive. We're going to being making far heavier, pseudo-neutronium-based suits; but the only one who can shape the parts is Rex, so we'll likely only have four suits by the time we arrive. He'll be shaping, my team will be assembling; and first priority for the suits goes to Kezia; I expect this is what you'll be wearing when we engage on the Imperial Capital."

Once Dubois was armored up; standing as a massive, eight-foot tall monster of dark blue and silver alloy; RC reached up to take his hand. "These things have nuclear reactors built-in, powering thrusters; good enough for short hops, but not for lift-off. Each arm is equipped with a plasma rifle, each shoulder has a laser weapon, and we're building heavy rifle-scale railguns for you that can hook into the reactor for a power boost. The railguns will be another six hundred pounds, and include an underslung fragmentation minigun firing, effectively, ten-gauge shotgun shells at two hundred rounds per second. Dubois. Show me how fast you are in that armor. Hit the wall and back."

The man nodded; and turned; sprinting for the wall. He attempted to screech to a halt to abruptly turn, only to slam into it with enough force to dent the wall; and sprint back; once again, overshooting the mark, skidding several meters past, before walking back to the mark, seeming embarrassed.

"You're much, much, stronger and faster than you used to be. I suspect that our leaders arranged the ritual that way on purpose; I have no idea how we're going to land and form a ritual on a hostile alien world, but you'll need to be some of the most bad-ass supersoldiers in the galaxy to protect Kezia while she gets the job done. I want all of you armored up and running drills til you're no longer slamming into walls. Dubois, you go ahead. Next up, Dumas."

Moreau watched as, one by one, the engineering team armored up his men and set them to training. If France were still a thing, these fire-teams here would be easily capable of shaping a battlefield. Eyeball and Thomes had both offered assistance setting up a new french government for the survivors; it would be a long time before the radiation died down enough that he could reclaim his home, but... maybe someday. Sure, the number of French folk surviving now numbered in the low thousands. But every nation on earth had once had such humble beginnings.

***

Her majesty, Mehri, the Black Death, stirred in her bedchambers, looking around in the darkness. Something was wrong... She heard a faint tinkle of bells, and whispered words. "Your highness. We have intruders. They claim to wish to speak to you, and are willing to give up their weapons, but are wearing armor they refuse to remove."

One of her many servants.. Sanji? It didn't matter. She had dozens of them, each as replaceable as the last. The fool was on her knees, bowed, waiting at her door. She sighed. "You will be whipped for this. Tell them to wait until morning. The Black Death rises earlier for no petitioner."

The serving girl lifted her head; her majesty glared with anger, and gestured; the girl's limbs splaying out in every direction, her body lifting up from the ground, forced by the very blood in her veins. "You dare gaze upon me without permission? That whipping will not stop until you die." She flicked her wrist; and the girl was flung against the wall; the crack of breaking bones audible throughout the room. The girl groaned in pain. "Majesty... they... insisted. Threatened... kill."

She sighed; and slid on a golden silk dress. Normally she would have one of the serving girls dress her, but unfortunately there was not always time for such a thing, even for one as wealthy and powerful as herself. She stepped out into the hallway, making an imperious gesture. Four of her guards, resplendent in red and black armor, with blue and gold trim on the armored gauntlets, took up position, each raising their weapons to the ceiling in salute; not traditional persian weapons, no... but advanced gauss rifles, the best money could buy.

She glowered as she stepped out to the throne room, seeing eight more of her guards standing at the entrances, weapons leveled on... a trio of figures wearing ordinary business suits. She frowned as she glared at the men; each looked virtually identical. Tall, fit, wearing black sunglasses, earpieces.

"..And who are you supposed to be? No. Don't tell me..." She raised a hand. "Your masters will send a more polite messenger next... time." She frowned. There was either a barrier blocking her power, or those men... "Open fire!" She immediately ducked behind her throne; an armor-plated barricade built for exactly this situation; calling on the well at the room's center to pull forth a pillar of crude oil for whatever came next.

She could hear gunshots; both those of ordinary handguns, and the distinct white-pop of the gauss rifles hitting stone; and turned to the other side of the barricade, arms raised, ready to slam the oil down on a victim... only to see a viciously mutilated humanoid form... with a shiny silver skeleton revealed my the massive gouges in its flesh. She knew it when she had reached out. Barely any blood at all.

The machine extended a handgun, dripping bits of flesh and blood from its black metal surface; and as the crude oil flooded the room, enveloping both the three figures as well as Mehri's own guards... it fired.

Mehri would not live to see the inferno that consumed her body; that of her guards; and of many of her unfortunate servants. Nor would she see the three metallic forms, each distorted and twisted by the damage and extreme heat they had suffered, casually stepping into the well of crude at the center of her throne room, diving into the inferno without concern.