Horizon, Part 1: The Passing of Time, Chapter 1: Visage of Nightmares Past
Horizon, Part 1: The Passing of Time, Chapter 1: Visage of Nightmares Past

"Would you like some more coffee?" asked a waitress at the Mach Pizza Onett Branch. She asked this of a certain customer, one of about seventeen years who seemed pretty average. The customer in question appeared to like coffee quite a bit, and also seemed to have come into the restaurant almost every other day since it had opened. Though he rarely ordered anything besides coffee and the occasional pizza, the staff members generally passed him off as just another weird high school kid.

The customer nodded and smiled pleasantly. "Yeah." As an afterthought he added, "Please."

"Is this all you'll have today?" inquired the waitress as she refilled the mug.

"Yeah," he replied tersely, continuing to smile. The waitress was rather attractive, he noticed. He analyzed her as she walked to another table. She almost reminded him of someone he once knew...

Then again, so did almost everyone. The customer rubbed his eyes. "It's like a curse..." he muttered. "Euhh." He frowned. It had only been a year since the whole Fourmoon incident, an event that he sometimes wished he hadn't been involved in. Memories haunted him, like some sort of cruel plague he couldn't get rid of. Though it had been a year since, the memories were as fresh as if the event had taken place just a few days ago.

The customer removed his hands from his face. He removed from one of his pockets a newspaper that he had bought earlier in the day but had neglected to read until now. A certain story caught his eye.

L'hotel du Summers catches fire

The customer's eyes narrowed a bit. This was odd. One would think that the hotel's owner and assistant manager would have had more precautions in place. Indeed, as the article continued, it stated that there were in fact many precautions in place; somehow, they all failed to prevent the fire. The article went on to say that some bystanders claimed to have seen Risosha Richmonde walking away from the fire, though since few people attested to this fact no conclusion could be drawn. A photo showed the stately building engulfed by flame, with several people running from it and others watching in disbelief. The customer's eyes narrowed further.

He brought the paper a bit closer to his face. One distant figure did seem to be walking calmly away from the inferno, though perhaps it was merely a trick of the photography.

The customer read through the remainder of the article, finishing his coffee. Presently the waitress came back to him and asked again whether he would like some more coffee. He declined, and requested the bill, which was quickly offered to him. The waitress walked away again. He glanced at check, and proceeded to fish around in his pocket for some cash. He produced a ten-dollar bill, the smallest variety he had with him. Since the coffee came to no more than four dollars (refills were, of course, free), he felt pretty nice about leaving 150% tip, even if it was only six dollars. He promptly stood up and headed for the exit.

On his way out, the customer was stopped by a man behind the front counter. "Hey," he said. "Siris, was it? You'll be coming back again, won't you?"

The customer, who did in fact happen to be named Siris, nodded and said, "Of course." He grinned. "This place has good pizza AND good coffee."

As Siris turned to leave, the man who had addressed him turned to one of his coworkers and said, "He doesn't buy much, but he comes in so often and leaves nice tips. Great to have a regular customer."

The Mach Pizza Onett Branch had proven to be a nice little place where it was possible to buy not only pizza, but also rather good coffee. Siris had found that he liked it quite a bit better than Jackie's Cafe in Fourside, at least presently. Perhaps he would go back someday, but he really felt rather bad about the city and preferred to stay away from it if at all possible. Too many memories were attached to Fourside, and too many of them were bad memories. Siris sighed. Lately he found he hadn't been practicing his magic as much as he probably should have been. Maybe he should go to the woods, or better yet, to the cave near Giant Step and do a bit of practicing. The last time he had cast an offensive spell had been several days ago during a practice session. However, the last time he had cast an offensive spell for the purpose of fighting an actual malevolent being had been a year ago, during the Fourmoon incident. Likewise, it had been the much the same amount of time since he had used his magic to help somebody else.

The Fourmoon incident. It still haunted him, and he hadn't even experienced the death of three of his friends. Siris couldn't imagine how the boy named Ness must feel. Was Ness constantly plagued by the memories? By the knowledge that his three best friends were all dead? It must have been torturous for him to even continue living like this. How did he do it? Did he simply try not to think about it? Siris considered going to his house and asking him, but supposed that Ness probably didn't even know who he was. At very most, he might recognize him as one of those guys who fought Raltise.

Raltise. Now there was a frightening memory. The mastermind puppetmaster who wanted nothing more than to be the most powerful being in the universe. The fact that he had quite nearly accomplished this was a frightful thought in itself. This bad memory could be somewhat quelled, however, by imagining the figure of Raltise sitting on a stool holding a Handsome Tom. Siris chuckled a bit at this image, then sighed for exactly the seven-thousand-three-hundredth time since the happenings of a year ago. He just wanted to forget. Maybe some magic practice would get his mind off of things.

-----

Huh. Pac Man didn't hold Dan's attention much any more. Here he was on the 40th level, a decent showing by any means, and he didn't care at all. He sleepwalked past Clyde and got the last pellet. Fourmoon had ruined video games for him. After basically living in one, suddenly Klaxing to your heart's content wasn't as fun. He let himself die on the next level and then began the walk to the library, where his homework awaited him.

The librarian smiled her usual annoying smile as he walked in. "Here to read the back issues of Avenue Fighter Turbo Hyper Power II weekly again, Dan?"

"Nope. Homework. My mom says if I keep slacking off I get grounded from the computer for the next 2 years."

"Huh. I always assumed you were good with schoolwork. You always seemed smart."

"Well, as I said shortly before I coincidentally received lunch detention from the teacher I shouted it at, 'Bright guys finish last.'" He walked up the stairway to the room where he normally did his homework.

Grabbing a pencil, he did the usual Math busywork. It seemed even more boring then usual. He wasn't exactly praying for another megalomaniacal bad guy; after all, he honestly had no idea where his Zapper was. His homework was half finished when he decided to take an almost deserved break. Maybe arguing with the Star Trek nerds on the library's lower level would entertain him for a while. At least, until they got talking about alternate dimensions, which didn't catch his fancy all that much now that he had experienced one. Come to think of it, not much held his attention anymore. As often occurred when the librarian was bored, Duran Duran singles had replaced the elevator music that droned on as people read. Hungry Like the Wolf...It reminded him of someone...

-----

"Here's your pizza, sir."

The overweight man snatched the box out of Matt's hands greedily.

"That'll be $21.95, sir"

Grumbling to himself, the man reached through his pockets for the payment. He glared at Matt, as if it was HIS fault the bill was so high.

Matt sighed. Delivering pizza to disrespectful patrons was not they way he thought he would be spending his Saturdays. He has assumed he would get something out of the Fourside incident. But all he had were haunting memories and scars to remind him of a bitter lesson: being a "hero" was a non-profit occupation. And since he still held ambitions to carry on to university, he resentfully accepted his position. For now, his adventuring days were numbered.

The man was still struggling to scrounge up enough money to pay him, so Matt peered into the house at a nearby TV. Images of burning buildings highlighted the screen, being presented on the evening news. Although he could not make out the sound, he could read the subtitles. It read "Paradise in Flames." Matt had already heard about that fire in Summers, as well had pretty much everyone else in Eagleland. He wasn't one to be interested in the news, so he turned his attention back to the customer.

"There" grunted the customer, thrusting the money into Matt's hand.

Matt counted it over quickly then bowed his head bitterly. "You know, a 10% tip is pretty standard." He stated bluntly. "0% doesn't really cu-"

SLAM!

No respect. He grumbled to himself and adjusted his visor (one of the pieces of his bright-orange Mach Pizza uniform). His revenge would be enacted another day. For now he had to get back to the parlor.

Hopping into his 1972 gremlin, Matt fired up the ignition. With a whir of an engine he was off...

Later, at the Mach Pizza: Onett branch...

"Crud." grumbled Matt. Checking the schedule, he realized that he was working for the rest of the day AND from open to close tomorrow. He whimpered and slumped his head over against the wall. Dreams of having Sunday off shattered in the blink of an eye.

"Oh well..." he muttered to himself. "I could use the extra cash."

Picking himself up, he moved to the front counter of the restaurant. He’d watch cash for a while until he was needed for the next delivery. The place was all but deserted, save for a teenager who was just departing. He didn't catch his face... After the "stranger" had left, Matt noticed that a bag had been left at a table, as well as some fresh pizza scraps. Putting two-and-two together, he decided to leave his post and return the missing article. He'd be back before anyone realized he was gone...

Running out the front entrance he easily caught up with the person. To his surprise, it was an old friend.

"Siris!" yelled Matt enthusiastically. Siris' eyes lighted up at the familiar voice.

Catching the bag, he returned the greeting and the two shook hands. "Matt! Long time no see."

Matt nodded. "Definitely. Haven't seen you since the...incident"

"Yeah..." mumbled Siris darkly. This was only bringing back more memories. Feeling the tension, Matt pulled back a little.

"So...how have you been holding up?"

"Not so good lately, really." replied Siris.

"And why's that?"

Siris pulled out the newspaper and pointed at the headline.

Matt looked it over. "Yeah, everybody knows about that already. It's sad, but not enough to ruin my day."

"No.." mumbled Siris, tucking the newspaper away again. "There's just something...off...about it. I can't put my finger on it..."

Matt was worried. He saw that something was really troubling his old friend. "How about we sit down and try to figure this out then? We can catch up on things, too. Free pizza?"

Siris complied. He had already eaten but Matt would be good company. And there was a lot he could get off his mind. The two headed back to Mach Pizza.

-----

Skulryk was in his high-rise apartment. After Raltise had been defeated, he had made lots of money off of news reports, footage, and first hand accounts of the events which happened, and now Skulryk was very well off, living as a piece of Fourside's skyline. He was rich, he didn't have to work; he had it all.

And it was boring.

Skulryk had figured he had gotten used to a more relaxed life. He'd gone from looking for stories and chasing fights to publishing books and articles. Well this life sure may have been a lot more relaxing, Skulryk had a passion for reporting. It was in his blood.

On top of this, Skulryk always ended up watching the news with a critical eye. He always ended up having to see new wimp reporters who had no passion for reporting. They'd keep a safe distance from fires, they'd get out of stormy weather, and they'd always run away from the line of fire. That's where all the action was!

News hadn't been the same since Skulryk left it several months back. Skulryk hadn't been the same since he left news either.

"It's definitely time for a change." Skulryk said. "And it looks like the perfect story to start with is here. Well, this story's as good as any, I suppose."

Skulryk was referencing to the latest piece of headline news: the fire at L'Hotel du Summers. He could tell these reporters weren't getting the full story. They weren't even trying! It was time for him to get back into news himself.

Skulryk grabbed his camera case, which held his camera, a tripod, and some accessories for it. He put on his sunglasses and walked out the door, ready to take a trip to Summers.

-----

Christina was sitting outside of her house waiting for something interesting to happen. Being nearly 18, she finds that there isn’t much to do around Summers other than hang out with friends. She sighed. "I wish that I had somebody to hang out with. There’s nothing really to do." A few thoughts raced through her mind but were dismissed promptly; they had all been done.

"Honey, where are you?" A feminine voice rang out across the field. It was Christina’s mother. Moments later, her mother came into view. "You really need to go out and do something. Why not try to go find something valuable? You know you always find something when you do that. You’re incredibly lucky."

"True, but I’ve already done that." Christina sighed once more.

"Yes, I know. It’s too bad that we had to move away from Fourside. A mercenary persuaded your father to move away. He said that strange things were bound to happen around that place."

"True. I think that mercenary was related to dad. It’s too bad that we can’t ask him who that guy was."

Christina’s father worked hard even though he was wealthy. It was rumored that he had many billions tucked away in all sorts of places. Although he was supposedly a billionaire, he worked for the government, allowing his genius to be used to protect the country.

"On second thought, mom, I’m going out for a walk. I’ll see you later." Christina got up and started to walk towards the bluffs. Last month when she was there, she found a rather large diamond. The newspapers said that she found one of the largest diamonds the world had ever seen. It even carried her last name: the Evanhouse diamond.

"Do you have your cell phone?" Christina’s mother got up. She had a look in her eyes that said that she was afraid of what may happen.

"Of course mom. Don’t worry." Christina walked off. Before leaving, she went in to her room and grabbed a few things. She got her timepiece that was given to her by her dad. She also got a pen and a pad of paper. After gathering those items, she walked over to a giant stuffed panda and gave it a hug. "Bye dad." The panda was another gift from her dad. He got it as a gift as a reward from saving the prince of Dalaam from an assassination a couple of years back. She left the room and as she did so, she turned off the lights and closed the door.

She got to the bluffs in about fifteen minutes. Off to her right, she could see the overhang where the diamond had been found. A couple of people were searching the area, hoping to find another Evanhouse. Those people looked up and waved to her; they were the regulars to the area. They were hoping to get rich. Christina walked over to the edge of the bluff and walked along the edge. She had nearly fallen off in the past but usually found good things, like her diamond. Thinking about that made her grin. She had been rather lucky that day. She could have died if she fell down and landed on her head. Below, she could see the town of Summers and the neighboring port.

Christina was thinking about a lot of things. Her thinking distracted her. If she were paying attention to where she was walking, she would have seen that the edge had broken off up ahead and she was heading right for a drop-off. However, she didn’t see it and she fell over. She fell about 300 feet but amazingly, she was alright. The person that she had landed on top of was a different story.

She hastily got to her feet and helped the other person to his feet. "Sir, I am so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going." She noted that this guy had crimson colored eyes. "I think that I should take you to the hospital. You may have hurt your head when I landed on you."

"No, I’m fine." The man’s voice was rather harsh, much like sandpaper.

"Did you drop this?" Christina bent down to retrieve a roll of quarters. She picked it up and offered it to the man.

"Yes and I would like it back." The man took it from her and started to run away, towards Toto. Christina looked after the man with a puzzled look but stopped when she found a diamond lying in a patch of grass.

"Well, would you look at that. This one is even bigger than the last one. I suppose I should go to the jeweler that is downtown and see if this is worth anything." Christina walked off.

-----

In northern Onett, a small bolt of electricity and a (relatively) quiet thunderclap heralded the arrival of a young boy as he appeared out of thin air. Unfortunately, he was not moving with any lack of speed and was sent tumbling along the grass before coming to a stop.

He grumbled to himself inaudibly as he sat up and looked around.

"This doesn't look like Shinjuku... And where are the others? Could those morons have screwed up on the Ark?"

The boy's appearance had not gone unnoticed. Tracy was walking home when she heard a thud, muffled yelp, and looked up to see the boy rolling across the field. She ran up to him as soon as he stopped.

The boy was still clearing his head as she approached. As he looked around, he caught sight of her.

"Hey! Where the heck am I?" he asked her.

She looked at him for a moment, puzzled. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Are you all right?" She knelt down to examine him quickly.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said curtly as he stood up suddenly. When Tracy got to her own feet again, she stood a few inches taller than the boy - she thought he must be only ten. His hair was a deep red color, but his eyes were as cold as ice. She glanced away quickly when he looked her in the eye. He was also wearing a now somewhat beat up backpack.

"Now, where am I?" he demanded.

"This is Onett, a town in Eagleland." It required a concentrated effort for Tracy to remain civil. She did not like the boy's attitude.

"Eagleland!? I've never even heard of Eagleland! Thanks a lot, but I think I'll go now," he said rather rudely, and stormed off.

Well isn't he the rude little boy. I wonder where his parents went wrong. As he stormed away, something hanging from one of his belt loops caught Tracy's eye for a second, then she was alone again.

-----

Though firemen had thoroughly subdued most of the flames, parts of the decimated hotel were still smoldering. A large crowd had gathered on the streets, standing before the scene in horrified awe. Smoke had already polluted the beach, so those who had planned to relax there turned their attention to the fire.

The crowd cringed as the wailing sirens of the police force drew close. Some officers surveyed the scene and daringly ventured into the site, while others started questioning survivors.

"It was terrible!" one mother yelled over the voice of her crying children. "We were just relaxing in our hotel room and watching television, when suddenly, smoke started pouring into the room." The young kids continued crying, traumatized by the nearly fatal experience.

"It was very strange," a teen replied to another cop. "The fire didn't seem to originate from one area. It sort of came everywhere, and suddenly my room was surrounded by flames." It definitely wasn't natural. It spread like water, gradually rising. What could it have been? And what was going on downstairs?

"Really? That's odd. We haven't determined the cause of the fire, so that may help. So, what about this assistant manager, Risosha Richmonde? He's missing. Did you see him?"

Before the boy could answer, a deafening grinding permeated the area, followed by the yells of cops and firemen running out of the building. It was collapsing. More screams from the crowd immediately followed as it began to disperse. A blackened beam started falling and would have crushed a small group of people, had a car not been in the way of its descent.

He returned his view to the officer to reply to the question, but the officer had already left to handle the still developing crisis. He slowly walked towards a bench to rest, starting to feel nauseated. This is definitely not the way I planned to spend my summer vacation...

-----

The picture screen flickered a bit and turned into snow.

“Crap!” yelled a teenage boy sitting on his family room floor. “Why do we have to have this Stone Age television set with an antennae?”

“It is for your own good!” snapped back an enormous man who was reading a newspaper. “Will you look at this? There was a fire at a hotel in Summers. Serves those bikini-clad teenyboppers right…what is the point of this whole beach phenomenon anyway? These lowlifes march around wearing almost nothing…getting sand all over their body…burning their skin…and they call it fun? I will go to the museum if I want to have fun, thank you very much!”

"Why can't you be like the father that George Carlin said you were?"

"Again with the 'George Carlin' reference...I do not know of this chap. The only George I care about is the tremendous King George III, God rest his mad, mad soul!"

The boy looked blankly at his father for a moment, and then directed his attention back to the busted television set. He fiddled with the antennae a bit until they completely broke off.

“Bloody…” shouted the man with the neatly-trimmed beard. “You cannot do anything right, Joe! Now fix the telly!”

“With what?”

“How about that bloody ‘rod’ that you are saving for an emergency…”

“Um…this isn’t the kind of emergency I was…”

“If you don’t put that bloody contraption to use, there will be no telly!”

Joe walked over to the kitchen table and opened the cigar box that was sitting in the center. He clutched the rod in his hands and walked over to the television. He jammed the rod into the top. The screen clicked on, clearer than ever.

“Neat.” Joe sat down and stared at the screen drone-like.

“I do not even know why I let you watch that blasted thing, anyway! Everyone on it is a piece of garbage!”

“Hey look, dad, you’re on!”

“What the bloody…oh that is just a review for my award-winning autobiography.”

As of late, Everdred was a television evangelist, who was on every Saturday night at 6:00. Tonight, he was explaining the evil in the autobiography “You Wish You Had My Life” by Rustopher Bonham.

Rustopher stood up, combed his hair, and put on his jacket.

“Joe…I am preparing myself to walk to the Onett television station to register my disgust. Take care of your mum until I come back.”

“Dude, this dude is totally rippin’ on you, dude.”

As Rustopher left the house, he turned around and addressed his son.

“Never say that word again.”

-----

The wail of sirens echoed down the Summers strip as fire engines roared down the lane, coming to an abrupt halt before the burning hotel. It was all too late to save the structure, and in fact the fire fighters had now turned to checking the smoldering wreckage for survivors. Smoke wafted in the air, tingeing the orange sky with black, and amid the ruin, a solitary individual climbed to his feet.

He had been temporarily pinned under a fallen beam, and now having freed himself, the young man simply stood there, in a daze, the calm ocean breeze blowing through his disheveled white hair. Ash and soot covered his clothing, streaking and marking his face. His delicate brown eyes seemed somewhat vacant as they gazed over a pair of thin-rimmed blue spectacles. Two firemen noticed him and began to approach, a first aid kit in hand.

Unexpectedly, the youth began walking in their direction, and upon reaching them, he did not stop. Rather, he brushed past them, while they turned and started after him in perplexity. He did not stop until he had reached the street, some way off from the blaze.

"So, the prophecy was true." The boy said, grasping the bellboy hat atop his head and throwing it aside, then unbuttoning the dress shirt and discarding this as well, leaving but a white T-shirt and a pair of black dress pants covering him. He gazed out into the tranquil lapping of the waves, and thought.

"So, one year later, it's all happening again. Great. And I thought the whole thing was just a metaphor." He closed his eyes and recited the cryptic sentence that the old man had told him, the prophecy passed down from ancient times. "When the chosen boy reaches the point, he will find the light. The passing of time will shatter the nightmare rock, and will reveal the path of light." He mused over this sentence, licking his lips and cringing as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"So, he's after that boy. The one who defeated him a year ago. Seems logical. But if the nightmare rock shatters before he can be stopped..." The boy flinched. "Then heaven help us. He will become more powerful than any single force on this planet." He began walking toward the Port town of Toto, assuming that this must be where he was heading, as it was the only way off this peninsula.

Minutes later, a single boat escaped the port, much to the consternation of the ship's captain. Talus was at the wheel. A single sentence escaped his lips, cast into the ocean winds.

"He must not find the path of light."