-Requiem “Misso pro Defuntis”

The stage had been set and the actors, however unwilling, were cast. The only things needed to begin the elaborate play were the Producer and Director, who in this instant were Raines and Cox respectively.

Project Heptagon was secured in individual seats that looked like metallic dental chairs waiting for the Final Programming Sequence to begin. Mia, discontent with the current turn-of-events, continued to struggle against her restraints. She turned her head to look at Lyle and saw him sitting in silence- he made no effort to escape. The defeated look on his face destroyed the optimism Mia had that somehow, someway they would emerge from this victorious. She grew very still and stared at Lyle, desperately wanting him to give her some sign that things would be all right. But he did not; he turned his head away from her instead.

Lyle now knew that there was no hope. All their struggle against the Powers That Be were in vain, always had been and always would be. With a sigh of resignation, he stared blankly into the shadows that lurked off-stage.

Without warning the stage was flooded with brilliant blinding light and the screeching of electrical feedback pierced their ears. In the shadows Jarod’s ears were ringing with a stinging pain. He was, as it turned out, hiding behind a speaker box.

A voice resonated out of the box still charged with the buzz of the feedback. The voice called to attention Mr. White and the assembled announcing the delay of Mr. Raines, but that initiation would commence as scheduled.

Gritting his teeth against the horrendous grating noise emanating from the speakers, Lyle heard something disturbingly familiar about the voice, but he could not pin it down. He blinked several times against the lights before going back to staring at the shadows offstage, knowing that it did not matter whose voice it was- nothing mattered anymore. Lyle shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the restraints made that impossible. Fidgeting restlessly, he continued gazing into the abyss of shadows. As he looked, the shadows began to merge together to form the crouched figure of someone as familiar as the voice.

Jarod! thought Lyle dismally. He didn’t see how things could possibly get any worse for him. Looking harder, Lyle saw the shadows converged together over the Pretender’s shoulders this time outlining his sister’s form.

Lyle suppressed a groan and closed his eyes. He assumed they were there for Mia and his suffering was just a bonus for them. Another surge of feedback jolted him half-out of his chair, causing a painful wrenching of his joints that were encapsulated in cuffs. Then for some inexplicable reason Lyle looked back to the shadows and saw Parker mouthing something to him, most of which he missed. He lifted his head and glanced around. To his left Mia was silently crying. To his right, White’s back was to the Heptagon project. Lyle turned back to Parker, frowned and tried to shrug.

In typical Parker fashion, she rolled her eyes skyward with a look of annoyance and began over, slower this time. Lyle got the message: “We know about Dominatus- how do we stop it?”

Lyle lifted his head again as he began to answer. Hastily, he stopped. From Parker’s vantage point she could not see what her brother saw and was quick to assume he was being obnoxious by withholding information. However, what Lyle saw was White turning around, preparing to inject the first Member.

As White grew closer, Lyle began to sweat and Puccini’s words came back to him. If only he could communicate to Parker and Jarod how Puccini said Dominatus could be stopped.

“Hey!” he barked tenaciously as an idea came to him.

White glanced up sharply. “Shut up,” he snarled back.

“No!” Lyle leveled a defiant glare at him. “There’s something I want to know.”

“You had your chance, Mr. Lyle. The time for talk is over.” White went back to what he was doing.

Lyle inhaled deeply, zeroing in on the shadows as he did so. He locked gazes with Jarod and the two men stared expectantly at each other.

“If bringing all of the Members together will give you total control what happens if none of the Members are together?”

In the shadows, Parker impatience grew. This is a fine time for Lyle’s other personalities to begin manifesting!

“I’m warning you, Mr. Lyle…” White bent down and reached for something out of Lyle’s line of vision.

“Separating the Members would make you loose all control, wouldn’t it?” Lyle projected his voice as much as he could. “The others would turn on each other, wouldn’t they?”

“I said shut up!” Without warning, White slammed a metal rod down onto Lyle’s stomach so hard it made Parker and Jarod cringe. Once satisfied that Lyle would say no more, White returned to preparing the Members for Initiation.

Parker knelt next Jarod. Mario followed her lead, oddly still and calm.

“Now what?” she asked with the faintest bit of anxiety tainting her words.

“We figure out how to do what Lyle said to do,” he replied absently, his mind already fast at work.

Parker looked at her brother, who was reeling in agony. She then realized that he hadn’t been spewing inanities but rather was responding to her query in such a way that it did not give away them away.

Jarod was alone, edging his way as quietly as possible along a narrow catwalk high above the ground. All was still and empty; the legions of Sentients were congregated around Project Heptagon. He glanced down and saw Mario crouched and waiting by a small doorway- an exit to the outside world. Parker, though he could not see her, was waiting in the wings off-stage. He did not like being separated from them without some way to communicate, but there was no to avoid it. All he could do was hope and pray they would have no need for verbal contact.

Jarod had a master plan of rescue neatly formulated and strategized in his head. Once he found the fuse box and cut the electricity, Parker would release as many Members as she could and send them to Mario. From there Mario would get the Members and himself out of the Centre and to a safe house by following explicit instructions from Jarod on where to go and what to do if he did not have all the Members after a certain amount of time. Assuming Lyle was correct about the Sentients turning on each other, they did not need to worry about the Collective and he would be free to take care of White. If successful, they would destroy Dominatus completely.

Jarod stepped up his pace, heading to the area where he deduced the power generators were most apt to be. As he passed above the ceiling-less rooms of the Underworld, the activities in one of the largest rooms made him stop. Within the room was set up a massive machine that resembled an assembly line. Upon closer inspection, Jarod saw that it was indeed an assembly line- one that manufactured new Sentients. With a shudder, the Pretender hurried on with renewed determination.

Although the generators were not quite where he thought they were, he found them quickly, loosing only minimal time.

White had finished injecting and programming the first four Members and was preparing the Fifth Member. Knowing his turn was next and not holding out hope that Parker and Jarod would help him, Lyle morbidly wished that that his life had ended on the docks when Parker shot him or in Dry River with Kyle. Bitterly, he cursed them for not being efficient killers. And with that last thought, he was plunged into total darkness.

White swore loudly, muttering something about shoddy electrical work and presumably left to see what could be done about it. As White’s footsteps retreated, a scuffling was heard on stage followed by a terrible screeching sound like massive machinery grinding to a halt.

Minutes passed and Lyle could do nothing but sit helplessly and wait. Suddenly, his sister’s voice hissed in his ear, shocking him badly and putting more stress on his already swollen joints.

“Do what I say to do and don’t ask questions,” Parker informed him as she unchained his shackles. She caught hold of his sleeve and began to pull him after her but he reused to budge and even pulled against her.

“What the-!” Parker whirled around, glaring at Lyle through the dark. “What are you doing?”

“Where’s Mia?” he demanded. “I’m not going without her.”

Parker grabbed him roughly by the wrist and turned him back to face her. “Don’t be stupid, Lyle. I’m trying to save your pathetic hide. I’ll come back for her.”

“Is everyone out?” Jarod’s breathless voice joined Parker’s.

“No,” she sounded enormously frustrated, “Lyle’s being a moron as usual.”

“Come on, Lyle,” there was a bit of an edge to Jarod’s tone. “I’ll get Mia- you go with Parker.”

“I don’t think so, superboy,” Lyle pulled away from both of them. He was not about to let Jarod play hero to Mia. That was his role.

Leaving Parker and Jarod to wonder about how many blows to the head he’d recently received, Lyle managed to find Mia and awkwardly undo her restraints.

“What’s going on?” she asked shakily.

“Don’t question it, just go with it,” he replied, pulling her from the chair.

They were halfway across the stage- halfway to where Parker and Jarod waited for them- when the auxiliary lights came on.

There wasn’t anything Parker or Jarod could do for them either. Attempting to intervene in anyway would only land them in the same predicament. Jarod, not one who could easily stand by and do nothing, edged to the outer perimeter of the battle looking for some way in. He caught Lyle’s eye instead.

Lyle got the message Jarod was sending him loud and clear: let go of Mia.

Not a chance, Lyle thought, but his resolution was shaky. He turned Mia to face him while they tried to stay out of the Sentients’ way.

“You won’t leave me, will you.” It was a statement, not a question.

She gave him a funny look. “No.”

Lyle nodded almost in resignation. He looked at Jarod disparagingly then gave Mia a forceful shove that sent her into Jarod’s arms.

Mia stumbled forward and was caught by the Pretender who seemed as surprised as she was by Lyle’s actions. She looked up at Jarod with imploring eyes. “Please, you have to do something.”

He sighed and sent her over to Parker before turning back to the chaos before him. A line of Sentients separated the two men and Jarod had but one chance to act. He reached in a grabbed a very surprised Lyle. As he tried to pull Lyle out of the mess, the Collective swarmed them. After they moved on, Lyle and Jarod found themselves on opposite side from where they began.

The Sentients were beginning to fall quickly now and Jarod saw that he only had to avoid them until they exhausted themselves completely, then he could get out himself. He was far more capable of doing this than Lyle would have been.

“Parker!” Jarod called out to her over the grunt of fighting. “Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you!”

“Not a chance!” she shouted back. “We’ll wait.”

“You can’t. You have to get to the other Members. Now!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Jarod!”

Her reluctance to leave him behind made him believe that buried somewhere deep within her, she did care.

“Parker, go. I’ll be fine.”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it without saying anything. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity.

“Fine,” she said finally sounding a bit huffy, “But if you don’t make it out, I’ll come after you in the afterlife.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Jarod’s mouth. “Go,” he said again.

As soon as she left his sight, the world around them began to shudder angrily.

It was only a short amount of time later that Jarod got the chance to run for it. His escape, however, was not as simple as it should have been for the one way out was blocked.

“This has gone on much too long!” White stood facing Jarod with his fists balled and his teeth clenched. Trembling with rage, he glared at the Pretender through narrowed eyes.

The Pretender glanced over White’s shoulder, hoping that Parker had listened to him for once and was on her way out. He couldn’t see anyone or anything. He was alone with a deranged White.

White’s grip tightened around the elaborately carved cane he held in his right hand. He stared Jarod down with an unhinged leer. Then suddenly and violently with cane raised, he charged Jarod.

The cane bore down on him with such unexpected speed that Jarod had little time to react. Just before it struck its target, White moved his thumb over one of the carvings on the handle. A blade shot out of the end of cane. Jarod narrowly missed being pinned to the wall; the blade slashed the skin of his shoulder as he dodged the cane. When he twisted to avoid the weapon, White ripped around and caught him in the back of the head with the cane’s handle. The blow fell the Pretender to the floor.

Jarod, dazed but unhurt, managed to pick himself up before White could come after him again. It was not a moment too soon as the blade came whizzing by his head. Jarod could not keep evading him forever and White, seemingly running on unfettered psychotic adrenaline, was not slowing down in his attack. Just as he was about to strike again, another tremor rocked the room. Jarod struggled to hold his ground. Around the room the walls began to crack and chunks of the ceiling began to rain down upon them.

Jarod had no intention of dying in the Centre and while White struggled to stay on his feet, he made a break for the door. But somehow, White beat him to it. Jarod could have easily taken the man, but it was that cane that made him untouchable. The tremors increased in power, throwing both men off balance. A scuffle behind them momentarily distracted White; the Sentients were still fighting. Jarod being of sound mind and quicker reflexes took advantage of this. He grabbed the cane and with White struggling against him, smashed the blade into the quickly separating wall. With all the strength he had left, Jarod vehemently shoved the cane back at White. The force of the handle into his stomach was so great that it sent White tumbling backwards into the room. Jarod stayed only long enough to see a column of the stage crumble down on the prone figure of White.

Cutting power so abruptly to the large machinery Jarod had seen in one of the other rooms must have caused the earthquake. Whatever the cause, the Underworld was rapidly collapsing. He was almost to freedom when the ceiling above him caved in.

She waited until the very last second for Jarod; she wasn’t going to leave him behind even if the dark world was coming to an end. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Lyle screaming obscenities at her in attempt to get her to move, but she ignored him still looking for some sign that Jarod was all right. A moment later, she was aware that she was moving away from the auditorium- Lyle, now silent, had decide to forcibly remove her from the area. She knew they couldn’t wait for Jarod forever, but he would be all right. He had to be- they couldn’t have come this far just for it to end here.

Then at some point she was separated from her brother and Mia. She called for them and retraced her steps looking for them, but it was no use. Each step forward meant one less step back; it seemed as though the moment her foot left the floor, that area dissolved into the abyss. With despair, she realized that survival meant leaving those she was with behind. All of them.

Jarod! As fear propelled her onward from the hellacious nightmare behind her, an aching throb rose in her throat as her thoughts remained behind with him. She cursed herself for being so cold to him earlier, for not letting him finish what he wanted to say, for hurting him…

The ceiling moaned in distress. Overburdened with the stress of trying to remain upright against the tremors, the walls creaked in agony. With a thunderous crack, the world fell down around her.

There was no way he could continue on. His body screamed- or was he who screamed- begging for mercy and respite. The moment he stopped and began gulping for the air that seemed to elude him, he realized he was alone.

Mia! The walls shook all around and one crumbled in front of him. He was trapped and worst of all, he had no desire to even try to keep going. The compulsion to survive that had sustained him for so many years was gone. Sinking into the ever-shifting ground, Lyle closed his eyes. For the first time in a very long while, he felt like crying.

“Hello, Mr. Lyle.”

Lyle froze. The voice was hard and biting- it was not Mia’s or Parker’s or Jarod’s voice- any of the three would have been welcomed at this point. No, this was a voice of a very sick person.

He opened one eye first, then the other and blinked. White stood before him, bloodied, soiled, and very much alive. White glared at him strangely.

“You should have listened to us, Lyle,” he said flatly. “You always have to do things the hard way, don’t you? If you had just done your job instead playing detective, none of this would have happened.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you,” it was evident that Lyle didn’t really care. He stared at White. “You have been all along.”

The muscles in White’s jaw tightened visibly. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. These people don’t play games! Don’t you get it? This isn’t over- they will come back and they will get what they want. They always do.” He shrugged ingratiatingly. “Maybe I am one of them, maybe not. But in a way, we all are part of them…”

White staggered forward and Lyle could see that the right side of his face was badly mangled. In his hand, White held a battered revolver he had dredged up somewhere. He raised it up and touched it gently to Lyle’s temple and the younger man did not resist.

“Consider this an early retirement, Mr. Lyle,” he bared his teeth in a faux smile.

Lyle inhaled a breath of dust and closed his eyes. The thundering of the rapidly declining world swallowed the echo of the gun blast.

He hand trembled, not from the tremors but from shock and strange interest. Her great eyes, stormy with turbulent emotion, stared at the sight before her. Though the cold metal of the pistol in her hand felt like fire in her palm, she oddly felt no remorse for taking another person’s life. She almost dropped the gun, almost left it to be buried in the rubble, but she thought better of it. She would return it to Miss Parker, who would certainly want it back. She tucked it inside the vest of the black jumpsuit; careful to make sure it was secure, then stepped over White’s lifeless body.

“Bobby? Bobby, are you all right?”

Lyle looked up at her in confusion, but said nothing.

“Come on, we have to go now.”

He struggled to his feet and found it increasingly difficult to move. Mia held onto him tightly, both for his benefit and hers. They were so close to being out of this horror…

They had barely taken two steps forward when the underworld gave one last violent quiver before collapsing in on itself.

Dominatus was over.

Rest eternal grant them, O Lord;
And let light perpetual shine upon them.
Hear my prayer,
To Thee all flesh shall come.

Rest eternal grant them, O Lord;
And let light perpetual shine upon them.

Lord, have mercy upon us.
Christ, have mercy upon us.

-English translation of Requiem “Mass for the Dead”