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Part 1: Truth

You know, I never thought I'd die like this. Of course it was something I had feared, joining the marines and all, but nothing really prepares you for it. Just staring up at the ceiling, waiting for your life to drain out of you. It's the most hopeless thing you could possibly imagine, especially when you consider all the people you lost along the way, both those that died before you, and especially those that you'll be leaving behind. I suppose I have all the time in the world now, so I might as well look back on the few short months that led to my apparent end. I'll try to start at the beginning.

*****

The chord repeated twice. Then again. And it continued, until Captain Cornelius Bataryn's favorite classical song spewed out the line "In the days of my youth I was told what it means to be a man, now I've reached that age, I've tried to do all those things the best I can." I never personally understood his obsession with centuries-old music. I mean, I didn't mind the technorock pop songs they played on the radio, as it was still called regardless of its lack of similarities to the original device. Bataryn always argued that the old stuff was better, that no one could "top good old-fashioned Zeppelin". And that was just the kind of guy he was: free-spirited, down-to-earth, a soldier at heart, but never one without honor or integrity. I looked up to him from the moment my best friend Hector and I were assigned to his squad.

He sat directly across from me on the hovercraft that served as our dropship, a brown dhole of average height and above average physique, suited up in our dusky gray power armor that covered us all from head to toe. The armor itself wasn't that bulky, focusing more on the shields than conventional armor, and culminating in a helmet that was made of the same lightweight gray material in the back, but some kind of plastic-glass combination in the front. He also carried our standard armament, a rifle-like gun that fired superheated bolts of plasma, and used a battery system so you never had to reload. Apparently at some point about a century ago somebody finally figured out how to do this, maximizing the possible death toll from one small arm. Whoever used to think that the future would bring peace instead of large scale war was either crazy or stoned as shit.

Though they were right in at least some capacity. I was in the ASNR Marines, which if you don't know, and that's as much of a certainty as anything else, stands for "The Allied Systems of the Noble Races". So yes, there was some element of peace. That was totally based upon racism. The canines were in control, and we had always been in control since the Great Galactic War in the 24thcentury, with the felines and several other races subjugated to something little better than slavery. Of course, pockets of resistance picked up around the galaxy all the time, and as ASNR Marines, it was our job to "pacify" them, with liberal application of munitions, obviously. And that leads us to what we were doing on the planet Faz'reel.

My squad- Captain Bataryn's squad, more appropriately- was tasked with performing a sort of cleanup operation at a complex in the middle of a Faz'reel desert that was controlled by a group of coyote rebels. As a cleanup mission, it was supposed to be something effectively as simple as strolling to a convenience store and back, and that's why they sent a group of relative rookies in, so we could get some light combat experience. With the exception of Captain Bataryn, there wasn't a lot of action under the belts of the other four of us. Sergeant Keith Cassidy was the second-in-command, a big gray wolf who was the archetypical career marine: gruff, mostly quiet, and kind of dumb. He was the only one out of the four enlisted males that had seen any combat though, and his record apparently showed that he was rather good at it.

With the two real soldiers out of the way, let me introduce you to the three losers in the squad. The first one was Corporal Julius Mbiwa, a scrappy little African wild dog who was there as a kind of ambassador. You see, the AWD race was applying for full membership in the ASNR, and one of the requirements was that a prospective race had to have a certain amount of combat experience with ASNR forces; ergo, the AWD tried to throw their soldiers everywhere they could. As for Mbiwa, he kind of kept to himself when we first met him. I didn't get to know him too well then. Then there was my best friend since childhood, Private Hector Gonzalez, a fellow red fox, albeit one a bit smaller than me. He was the definition of what a fox should be: fast, agile, cunning, intelligent. He probably could've been the perfect marine.

And then there was me. Private Ezekiel "Zeke" Townshend. The picture of mediocrity. I'm a fox, well, for now at least. I might be something a little more ethereal soon. I'm bigger than average, just a bit too tall and stout to have the stereotypical vulpine quickness. I was athletic in school, kind of. I played football all four years of high school. Of course three of them were on JV and my senior year I still barely ever played, but hey at least I tried. My grades weren't ever phenomenal, but I kept myself from failing. Yeah, don't even expect this to be a "come from nothing" story, either. I came from an upper-middle class family, didn't really have much of a struggle through childhood. Everything just kind of went by as usual. Hector was still my best friend through it all, but we lived completely different lives then. He was the star in everything, getting attention, getting laid. I just kinda chilled in the corner and cheered him on. By the time I was on Faz'reel, I was 19 years old, still a fucking virgin and only on the current suck-team because Hector put in a good word for me after finishing first in our class at Basic.

So yeah. I wasn't expecting much out of my life when I was riding in that dropship toward an abandoned base in the middle of Gods-forsaken nowhere. But what do you know, surprises happen even to the least interesting of us. The dropship landed just outside of a somewhat large complex, full of generic looking buildings and one huge structure that looked like some kind of temple in the middle. We filed out of the vessel, making our way across the barren sand toward the compound, stopping briefly when we got to the wall that surrounded it. The particular section of the wall that we were near had a huge section blown out of it, probably where General Monroe had hit it so the initial group could come in.

We cautiously stepped through the hole in the wall and made our way inside the complex, finding it as empty as it looked from outside. We walked from building to building along the outskirts, not finding much of note, then suddenly out of nowhere a plasma burst rocketed past my head and collided with a wall behind me, almost ending my story a lot sooner. Captain Bataryn cried "Incoming!" and all of us dropped into whatever shelter we could, with Sgt. Cassidy, Hector and I going into one building and Cpt. Bataryn and Mbiwa heading into one on the opposite side of the road. The coyotes seemed to come out of thin air, simply materializing and firing entire barrages of rounds at us. The frying sound of plasma hitting the concrete walls was terrifying as is, but mix that with our lack of experience and the fact that we could hear them about to charge the buildings, and it was enough to nearly paralyze us with fear. At some point I peeked over the edge of a window and fired, managing to eliminate a pair of the unarmored foes. I couldn't tell if they screamed, it was all so loud. I was forced back into cover when my sensors indicated that I had taken a couple of hits myself.

The coyotes continued to charge, leading to panicked yelling over the comms system calling out where enemies were, but more commonly just loose orders such as "Kill that guy" or "shoot him, dammit". The next time I shot over the wall, the rebels were literally right outside. I managed to get one or two more of them, but that was it. The constant stream of fire continued, nailing Sgt. Cassidy at point blank range and reducing his armor's shields to practically nothing. Three coyotes hopped the wall, and they all fired on Cassidy, tearing the armor, and the wolf inside it, to pieces. Hector and I each managed to take out one of the coyotes before the third tackled me. He held his gun to my face, but before he could shoot me my visor became smeared with the insides of what was once his head, thanks to a clutch shot by Hector. I pushed the body off of me and looked at Hector with a mixed expression of fear, gratitude, and pure grimness, and he just nodded back at me, then raised his gun to fire again.

About a dozen coyotes poured over the wall, and we took out about half of them before their feet could even touch the floor. I killed another, then swiveled and killed another, then slammed one who was charging me into the wall with my gun, breaking his neck. I looked to Hector and saw two bodies on the ground and the final enemy fighting with him paw to paw, as both of their weapons had been knocked to the ground. I tried to get a shot, but nothing clear appeared that would allow me to shoot the coyote but not Hector. Just before I tried to take the shot anyway, a plasma pulse soared in from across the road, removing most of the coyote's head.

With the threat neutralized, we stood for a moment, catching our breath. Sgt. Cassidy's corpse was still lying on the floor amidst the multitude of fallen coyotes, and we removed his helmet and pulled his dogtags off his neck, which weren't really a necessity considering every suit of armor contained the identity of its owner, the act of wearing and removing them was just tradition. Of course, we didn't give any of the coyotes the same postmortem respect. They were the enemy, why would we?

You see, almost from birth as a citizen of the ASNR, you're bombarded with propaganda. The canines are the true races, certain other races are client races which are okay, and everything else is plain shit. Of course there are still two levels of shit, the acquiescent shit who are "employed" as servant races, and the lowest of the low, the rebellious shit, who upon repeated refusal to follow ASNR protocol are "slated for elimination". They face galaxy-wide persecution, which never seems to end fairly, just bloodily. And as I said, you grow up understanding this as a fact of life. You don't question it. You're a canine. You're at the top of the food chain, what else did you need to know? And the coyotes? They were at the very bottom. Their crime was freedom and liberation. They wanted all races to have the ability to be free, so on the worlds they controlled they created "havens" where all races were treated equally, and from the ASNR's point of view, this was high treason.

So that was the war we were in. Beat the coyotes into submission, and they'd come around eventually. And that was the justification for us writing off the dead bodies in the room as nothing but nameless foes. It was their fault they had turned against the ASNR, so the only fallen soldier who mattered was the now pulpy mess that once was Keith Cassidy. The realization of how many lives we had just taken did seem to settle in though as Bataryn and Mbiwa came into our building. It was a grisly scene. I felt lightheaded, woozy. I leaned up against a wall, and just kind of stared off into space while the dhole and wild dog observed our fallen comrade. I felt a paw on my shoulder, turned and saw Hector staring back at me. He looked me in the eye and said, "Come on man. It's done. They're gone. We have to keep moving." And he was right. We had to keep moving, despite the losses.

Captain Bataryn led us out of the building, mentioning how strange it was that a small pocket of rebels defended this position so fiercely rather than retreat, the coyotes' typical strategy in that kind of situation. He reinforced the fact that they seemed almost suicidally fanatical, something that you could say we had noticed in the previous firefight. The remainder of our operation was quiet and nonviolent, but as we ventured further into the complex, a rather disturbing reason for the coyotes' actions became apparent. Towards the middle of the compound, several buildings had been forcefully broken into, and we could see burn marks from plasma fire on walls all over the place. On a whim, the four of us entered one of the attacked houses, and we saw what we never wanted to see.

The house, as we confirmed it was, with furniture and entertainment and other marks of home, was torn to pieces. Everything appeared ransacked and destroyed. And then we looked in the corner of the main room. Four coyotes, an adult male, and adult female, and two female pups, were shoved in there, holes in their chests from the plasma rifles and blood smeared on the walls from the moment they were shot. Bataryn knelt down next to the slain family and put his paw through the hair of one of the dead children. "This... This is wrong," he said, "it would explain why they attacked us so viciously. I would too." "They were the enemy," Hector argued, "I'm sure General Monroe knew what he was doing when he had this family killed." "Knew what he was doing? KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING?! Private Gonzalez, what POSSIBLE explanation, what POSSIBLE justification, can you give me for killing children?!" Captain Bataryn exploded, looking like he was about to off Hector himself.

"I... I don't know, sir. There has to be a reason for it though," Hector tried to defend himself. Bataryn stood up and looked at the fox, "You know kid, for being the fucking golden boy of the Marines, you've got a damn lot to learn about the galaxy. Come on, let's move. I want to get through this damn complex so I can have a word with Monroe about just what exactly the hell he thinks he's doing here." We filed out of the house, but Mbiwa lingered a little longer, just staring at the dead family before eventually following us outside. As me moved even closer to the center, the scene got drastically worse. The image that we had seen in the house was now splayed over the entire core of the complex, with deceased coyotes of all shapes and sizes strewn across the streets, flung against walls, and some even piled up against buildings. We weren't cleaning up a battle. We were cleaning up a massacre. A literal fucking genocide.

Upon seeing this abomination, Bataryn lost his shit. He kicked a container in the street and punched a wall, screaming out curses while Hector and Mbiwa just stared at the sight. I looked at all three of them, then approached Hector, "Hey, you know I've always wanted to serve the ASNR just as much as you right? What we're seeing might not represent everything it stands for, but you have to admit, Hector, this is bad. This isn't what we should be fighting to protect." "Dammit, Zeke, what do you know? The only reason you're even here is because of me, why can't you just accept the ASNR?" Hector replied aggressively. "Because sometimes following the herd isn't the right thing to do," Bataryn stepped in, "I understand that we need to follow orders. But never lose sight of what's wrong and right according to your own_morals, not somebody else's." Hector gave a pained expression, "But the ASNR's morals _are my morals!" Bataryn looked at him soberly, "Well then, kid, you've got a problem."

Hector stomped the ground, kicking up some dust as he turned away from us. Bataryn tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey, what you did there, that was a good thing. Someday, he'll get his head on straight. But for right now, we could use more furs that don't buy straight into the propaganda." I didn't know what to say. I was happy I stuck up for a virtuous position, and I was happy I got Bataryn's approval, but at the same time I did want to serve the ASNR, and I did want to support Hector because through it all he was still my best friend. I ended up just nodding to Bataryn, and letting the rest of the op take its course. There isn't much else to tell about the rest of our time there. Too much had been dumped on me at one time, I could hardly process it all. But I knew two things. First, I started to realize that maybe the ASNR wasn't as pure of an organization as it presented itself to be, and second, as we walked away from the complex, I could have sworn I felt some sort of energy, something... supernatural emanating from the temple in the middle. I wasn't sure how that tied into things, but at the time, I didn't care. I just wanted that day to be over.

*****

Of course, that day wasn't over. It was to be one of those days that seems to never end. We made our way to General Monroe's base camp, which had since parked itself close to the complex while we had been cleaning up the last of the resistance. Under Captain Bataryn's insistence, the four of us went up to debrief with Monroe personally. In some ways, it was the worst decision he ever made. In one or two others, it could potentially be the best.

Upon meeting General Monroe, we removed our helmets and greeted him with the standard military formalities. That was the type of person he was. Strict military discipline, except when it came to command decisions. General Veritas Monroe, the Truth incarnate, or so he liked to think. He was a fairly large black wolf, always clothed in formal marine dress. He liked that feeling of superiority, that same feeling he got when he annihilated anyone he perceived as weaker than him. Given his personality, you might expect to see a worn face, scarred and experienced, but you wouldn't see anything of the sort. His face was clean and groomed. He had risen to the top through the bureaucracy, having seen little combat himself and preferring to send others to do that dirty business.

Speaking of that dirty business, that's exactly what Bataryn decided to bring up first during our debriefing, a ballsy move considering Monroe's preponderance to kill whoever he wanted to. "General," the dhole began, "What purpose does killing dozens of innocent children serve in stopping a rebellion?" The wolf grinned wickedly and responded, "It tells the rebels that if they keep fighting, there will be no life spared to continue their race. Wouldn't you surrender if you're entire lineage was threatened?" Bataryn stared Monroe down, and gave an emphatic "no", then explicated, "I would fight even harder to make sure the ones that killed my friends and family got exactly what they deserved. And you know what, general? That's exactly how the coyotes are handling it. I suffered a soldier KIA today because the resistance was absolutely relentless. They were determined to kill us all, no matter the cost. You're not helping anything here, you're just putting more of your own males at risk."

"Captain Bataryn," the black wolf snarled, "You dare question my strategy? Do you honestly think you could do better? I know what's best for the galaxy and I know how to achieve that goal in a way that benefits all the noble canines in it, and if that means eradicating the coyotes, so be it." "General, there's no way I can condone this sort of action. If you're going to continue doing this, then I cannot serve under you any longer." "Fine then, captain. As you wish. Such a pity that your squad would have two casualties on the same day." Before anyone could tell what was going on, Monroe pulled a sidearm from his hip and fired a single plasma burst through Captain Bataryn's skull, ending his life long before he hit the ground.

I was in shock, nothing but pure shock. My body felt numb. That's another thing nothing prepares you for, seeing someone publicly executed without cause, right in front of your eyes. I looked to Hector, and I looked to Mbiwa. Both seemed to be in just as much shock as I was as the general sneered at Bataryn's fallen form, spit on it, and announced, "This is what happens to those who feel that they can command better than I. If anyone else would like to make a claim, please, come forward now." Seeing the looks of petrifying fear on the faces of all those watching, General Monroe grinned and said, "Well then, how wonderful. No new contestants. Males, return to your posts."

After a few more seconds of grasping what just happened, I turned to my two remaining squadmates and suggested something I would have never done before. As I said, I was just an average guy, never a leader or a hero. I'm not the guy to make big decisions. But seeing Captain Bataryn get killed like that, something... changed me. Something needed to be done, and if no one else was going to start it, I would. I proposed to Hector and Mbiwa that we get out of there, flee and tell everyone what was really going on in the war against the rebels. They looked at me with crestfallen faces, Hector because he didn't want to turn his back against the ASNR, and Mbiwa because he felt like the fate of his whole race was riding on his reputation under the command of General Monroe.

Initially, both of them rejected my plan. But I could get to Hector, "Look, man, what was the last thing Bataryn said to you? Wasn't it 'stay true to what you believe, not what ASNR believes', or something like that? Hector, you can't possibly believe that this is right. General Monroe just killed the most honorable male we've ever met in cold blood. This might be the one chance we have to change all this, and if we fail, at least we know we tried." He crossed his arms and looked at me, "Even if we do run away, where do we go? We're in the middle of the desert." "We'll head back to the coyote complex. There's got to be some kind of transportation there. We can at least use that as a base until we find a way off Faz'reel." "Zeke, man, I don't know. I don't like all this. I think we should just stay here, and it will work out."

I stared Hector down and spoke emotionally, "Did going along with the plan work out for Cassidy? Did it work out for Bataryn? Did it work out for a hundred children at the compound who never got to experience life because Veritas goddamn Monroe said so?" As Hector looked back at me slack-jawed I started actually thinking about what I was saying. I was never the one to suggest something so radical, and I found myself starting to lose faith in my ideas as well. So when Hector still didn't want to go along with my plan, I started believing him again. If no one would support my theory, that meant it must be wrong, right? So I reluctantly cradled my rifle and started to follow Hector and Mbiwa (whose stance had been completely unchanging, for somewhat understandable reasons) back into camp.

Before we could get very far though, General Monroe himself appeared and started yelling at us to go inside and stop wasting his time standing and talking. "You better get your fat asses in there right now," he said, "Unless you want to end up a martyr for no one like this cocksucker." To emphasize his point, he drew his pistol and shot Bataryn's corpse once more. That did it for me. No matter what Hector or anyone else said, I couldn't follow a male who desecrated the body of someone who should be admired like Cornelius Bataryn. So. I ran.

I fired a solitary shot at a pile of boxes, which in hindsight I guess were very conveniently placed, that held rifle batteries, causing a decently-sized explosion, then started sprinting as fast as I could away from the ASNR camp and toward the coyote base. I looked back briefly, and to my surprise, I saw Hector running after me, and Mbiwa standing motionless, stunned, not knowing how to react to the situation. Despite my headstart, Hector was much faster than me, and caught up to me rather quickly. I shouted to him, "I thought you wanted to wait it out?!" He yelled back, "I changed my mind. You got some serious balls, bro. I hope you know what you're doing." "Well shit, you're gonna be disappointed, man, cus I have no fucking clue what I'm doing!" "FUCK," Hector exclaimed, taking a second to look back, "Holy shit, is Mbiwa actually fucking shooting at u-AGH!"

We hadn't even noticed we had been taking hits since we had left our helmets back at the camp, and apparently Hector's shields had been completely depleted, as evidenced by the now bloody holes in his armor on his left calf and lower back which were then visible since Hector was lying face down in the sand writhing in agony. Without taking more than half a second for thought, I instinctively picked up Hector and threw his injured body over my shoulder, hardly slowing down in the process, in fact somehow managing to speed up once I was carrying him, desperate to make it to safety as quickly as possible. The next few minutes are nothing but a blur. I was barely cognizant of what was happening at the time. I know I could see bolts pounding the sand all around me, and that's about it. The world outside of my little bubble was pure death and all I could do was keep running. I hauled Hector through the gates of the complex and all the way to the temple at the center of the compound.

The temple, an imposing structure that appeared similar to a step pyramid, seemed, at least to my adrenaline-high body at the time to grant some sort of protection to us, and I laid Hector down at its base. I knelt down beside him and cradled his head as he coughed up blood. "Gods," he whispered, "they fucking shot me... You were right, Zeke. You're right, and they're wrong. Fuck the ASNR, fuck everything they stand for. Unfortunately... I only realized right before I died, but you... You can stop it. You survived for a reason, Zeke. Monroe... kill that bitch. Can you do that for me bro?" He weakly held up his right paw, and I grasped it in mine as a lone tear rolled from my eye as I answered, "Yeah. I'll end him for you. For you, Bataryn, and everyone whose lives he's ruined. I promise you that." Hector coughed again, but managed to crack a smile, "Alright man, looks like it's your turn to play hero. For me though, it looks like I'm about done here. I'll see you on the other side one day. And Zeke, don't... forget... that goddamned promise!" I called out for him not to give up, not to die, but I felt his grasp on my paw weaken until there was nothing there, and watched as his whole body went limp.

I solemnly crossed his arms across his chest and closed his eyes before setting him on the ground. I sat back against the wall of the temple, sniffling as I started crying, the teardrops sometimes falling on the gray, soulless armor of Hector Gonzalez. And so I sat, thinking about how wrong everything had gone already. The people I looked up to had both died in the span of a few hours, and I couldn't help but believe I had killed one of them. Hector wouldn't have died if I didn't run. He shouldn't have followed me. It was my decision, and that got him killed. I had dropped my rifle so I could carry Hector long before, but I still had a sidearm. I withdrew it from my hip, turned it over in my paw, and for a few seconds, stared down its barrel, wondering if I should just end it all then. I cried even more profusely as I put the barrel of the gun to my head and slipped my finger around the trigger. Right before I was about to pull it though, I felt something... yeah, something, I didn't know what it was, and I probably never will, but it told me not to.

I dropped the gun and opened my eyes to see ASNR troops off in the distance approaching where I was, reminding me of my newfound purpose in life. I found a big stick near where I was, and riding on my regained determination, wrote in the sand next to Hector's body, "Rest in peace Sgt. Keith Cassidy, Cpt. Cornelius Bataryn, Pvt. Hector Gonzalez, Coyote Camp 112. You will meet your end, Monroe. DOWN WITH THE ASNR. -Fmr. Pvt. Ezekiel Townshend". I planted the stick in the ground, wiped the last tear from my eye, observed the now rather close ASNR forces, and broke into a run, searching for a method of escape, or at the very least, a hiding spot where I could wait out the coming onslaught of Monroe's bitches hunting me down. It didn't take me long to find a door in an alcove along one of the sides of the temple.

The door was made of stone similar to the rest of the temple, and contained some sort of drawings on it. I couldn't understand any of it, but there appeared to be a sun at the top, rays coming down, and causing some sort of destruction. Again, I had no better idea of what was going on on that door than anyone who might be hearing my story. I didn't have much time to ponder it though, so I searched for a way to open the door, finding the answer literally in front of my face. There was a part of the middle of the door that jutted out, and apparently all I had to do was push it in to open it. The door rose up, and I stepped into the darkness inside.

As soon as I did this, the door slammed shut behind me so quickly I barely got my tail through in time, and torches using some kind of artificial fire came on, revealing something that looked like an atrium with a single hallway directly across from the entrance. Looking around the first room, I could already see dead coyotes and one dead wolf. While most of the dead had visible gunshot wounds, I noticed that the other bodies were older, more decayed. Knowing the ASNR still knew the location of the entrance of the temple, I ran my paw through the fur on the top of my head (hair wasn't allowed in the marines) and I cautiously stepped into the hallway, coming across a floor of tiles, which were made of multiple colors, and which supported several deeply charred canine bodies. There was no way I could tell the race, they were far too crispy. This, of course, gave me some kind of clue as to what was going on in that hallway.

There were holes scattered all over the walls, which I could deduce probably spewed fire. Deciding that I didn't want to end up well done like the others who tried to cross, and also wanted to create some space between me and the ASNR, I got to figuring out the puzzle. I noticed there were six rows and six columns of tiles, with each row containing one tile of each of the following colors in a seemingly random order: yellow, blue, red, purple, green, and orange. I used three factors to determine my course of action: first, I looked at where the corpses were. I got the feeling those tiles weren't the best ideas. Then, I looked at what potential patterns might be present on the floor, and found that the spacing of them suggested that following a single color, or even repeating a color, was probably wrong because you would have to make too big of a jump to hit them all. Finally, I considered the fact that the temple seemed to be sun-themed judging from the decorations, and since I had ruled out following all the yellows or something like that, I made my decision, took a deep breath, and walked across the floor, stepping on red, then orange, then yellow, green, blue and purple, making it to the other side without being turned into deep-fried fox, and thanking my first grade teacher for instilling in me the eventual life-preserving lesson of the colors of the rainbow.

I proceeded down a narrow, winding hallway that turned so many times in nearly total darkness that I could no longer tell where I was, or what direction I was facing. I stepped into a huge room, with a small bright light at the other end. As I looked to the wall parallel to the door I just came out of, I could see more coyotes and a couple other canines pinned to it with what appeared to be giant arrows or bolts, and I could see more bodies killed in a similar manner on the floor in front of me. I moved forward slightly, and I felt a little voice in my head that told me to duck. Before I could stop and consider just how crazy that was, I followed my assisted instinct and hit the dirt just before a flaming arrow soared over my head and struck the wall behind me. At that moment I felt like I lost all control and just let that voice in my head take the wheel.

I ran forward, swerving left and right, jumping, ducking, diving, rolling, avoiding everything that was shot at me. It was like having reflexes that I'd never possessed, or even really seen before. It felt like something supernatural was taking control of me, and I was just its vehicle. I could feel slight singes of each arrow as they just barely missed me and I continued bobbing and weaving despite my armor, seemingly gliding to a doorway under the bright light at the other side of the room, which I gladly went through, regaining full control of my body, and entering another shadowy hallway, twisting once again until I found myself in another large room, this one with an ornate, decorative, massive door at the other end, and what looked like the handle of a sword on the floor just ahead of me. Also just ahead of me was something you should have expected by now: More coyote corpses and one lone arctic fox, all of them hacked to pieces. I guessed that sword on the floor had something to do with this.

My theory was quickly put to the test when five... spirits appeared. They looked like coyotes, but blue, glowing, and translucent, with white glowing eyes that looked like they were on fire. They carried two swords each made of the same fire-like substance as their eyes, and wore some kind of ancient silver armor. They walked slowly toward me in a semicircle, wicked grins on their faces, closing in on me with every step, and I noticed that they tried to avoid the sword handle on the floor, and deciding to not even try shooting at them considering the fate of the apparent last surviving marine who I couldn't imagine wouldn't try that first, I dove to the floor, grabbed the sword handle, and when I rolled back to my feet, a beam of piercing yellow light extended from the handle.

Despite the unadulterated heartache and sadness I had experienced that day, all I could think was, "FUCK YEAH I HAVE A LIGHTSABER". The spirits were taken aback, and their grins momentarily turned to gasps of terror before they regrouped and moved to attack me. I held firm, confident in my superior firepower, so to speak. Much like my newfound agility in the arrow room, I found that I suddenly had melee combat skills, blocking the first attacker's strike, then spinning twice, chopping off its legs at the ankles then its head as its torso fell to the floor on my second spin. As I came out of that maneuver, I blocked another attacker, overpowering him so that his arms flew down to his side and stabbing him in where his heart would be and kicking him off my sword. The stab to the chest seemed to have the intended effect, with the spirit disappearing afterwards. Briefly looking back, I found the same had happened to my first victim, but that look back was cut off prematurely as a third spirit lunged at me with just enough time for me to sidestep and trip him. I finished him off by stabbing him in the back of the neck, then immediately lunged at an unsuspecting fourth spirit, beheading him before he could react.

The final spirit had transformed, and he looked slightly more... intimidating. He had grown probably about 150% his original size, he looked like he had become rabid, and he had blue-ether-snakes growing out of his back. I twirled my sword, held it at my side and pointed it at the ground, just like from a medieval revival holopicture from like 30 years ago. I smirked and tossed my head at the ethereal beast, taunting him to come get me, because I was a little ego-high off my dealing with the other spirits. The beast let out a deafening roar, and I started to reconsider my course of action. I readied my sword and decided to do something even the voice in my head wouldn't even tell me to do: as the beast charged me head-on I dove forward into a roll, sticking up my sword when he was right over me, and when I came out of my roll, I looked behind me and saw two distinct halves of the beast separated from each other. I didn't know how this happened considering he was taller than my blade, but I wasn't in the mood to argue. I just one-shotted the boss fight, that's good enough in my book.

I turned back around and faced the intricate door, then took my time approaching it. As I came right up to it, another blue spirit appeared, but this one was different. It was still a coyote, but this one was female, unarmed and wearing a flowing dress, which seemed to be perpetually blown by the wind, as did her long hair. I approached the spirit and asked, "You're not going to try to kill me too, are you?" The spirit smiled and said, "No, you have proven yourself enough." I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the tests were over, and politely asked, "What exactly are you?" The spirit smiled again and stated, "It would be easiest to explain my existence as a form of artificial intelligence. The others you fought are similar programs." "So if you're an AI, is there a giant computer or something in here controlling you?" "No, not like you would think. I am generated by the temple itself, a physical embodiment of its purpose." "...Which is?" "Judging by your presence here, you."

I couldn't help but think that the computer-ghost-thing had been corrupted, or had been doing some kind of electronic drugs, because there was no way that could possibly be true. I mean, that temple looked waaaayyyy older than I was, and above it all, I was still pretty lame. I just got lucky getting through all the traps. I voiced my concern to the AI, "That makes no sense. How can I be the point of something that's existed long before me, and so far away that I only came here by chance?" "Because," she replied, with the same strange smile, "The temple wasn't built for you as a person, but rather for you as a spirit." Of course I then started to think that I was intended to die in the temple as some kind of fucked up sacrifice, but the AI spoke again, "Not in the sense of your death, but in the sense of the spirit that resides inside your soul. You are, in simple terms, the chosen one."

I blankly stared at her, the glowing sword still active in my right paw, "...the fuck? The chosen one for what?" "You have been chosen as the savior of the coyote race. From what, I know not. I am solely a program. But it is your destiny, the sword chose you." "Okay, wait, so is the sword like, Excalibur or something? And why am I the one who's supposed to save the coyotes I'M A GODDAMNED FOX." "As the Justice the Sword of Upkhazikhar is your own weapon, use it to achieve your purpose. As for your appearance, the race of the Justice matters not. Once again, all that matters is the spirit." I continued to look at the blue coyote, trying to comprehend any of this, "What the hell is 'the justice'? Also thanks for the laser sword, that's definitely a perk." Her smile finally began to waver, as I guess even computers can get frustrated with stupidity, "The Justice is you. You are the Justice. More will be revealed once you step through the gate." "Uh, the door? Right, how do I do that? It seems to be locked." "All you have to do is speak your name."

I raised an eyebrow, but went ahead and gave it a shot anyway. "Zeke," I said, "Ezekiel Townshend." Nothing. I crossed my arms and stared down the AI, trying to will an answer out of it. "Speak not the name you were given, but the name you are about to become. Look inside yourself, and you will find it," the AI explained. I was able, for a brief second, to let go of my mind again and let the voice speak to me, and I opened my mouth, and the word "Ra'Gholran" flowed out. The AI smiled fully once again, and before I could ask any more questions, disappeared as the intricate door opened, leading into an otherwise empty room with an orange orb in the middle. I walked up to the light, touched it with my free paw, and then reality imploded.

The light and the darkness fused around me as the universe swirled and space and time became distorted until I blacked out. I came to in some location that definitely looked nothing like a temple. In fact, it looked like I was in a cell, with three gray walls and a similarly-appearing ceiling, and one wall that was transparent, through which I could see a laboratory, and more specifically three females in scientific-looking attire, one older coyote, a younger one, and one white tigress. Before I could acquire any more information of my surroundings, gas started to pour in through a vent in the ceiling, and I felt myself starting to lose consciousness almost immediately. I started banging on the glass and shouting at the scientists, but they ignored me, and I slipped out of reality once more.