Zone C -- Megacity One

[Gildarts]

The weather was still dreary. Gildarts could not see the sun to tell how much time had passed and the it was the silence that was stealing his sanity the most. Because of the shroud of fog encompassing him, because of the silent streets on this island of desolation and devastation, because he didn’t even know what was real. He could only guess, and how formidable would guessing be when he was face to face with a foe? I guess I’ll slam my fist into what I think is your face? Yeah that didn’t seem like a winning solution to the experienced mage.

 
The prime felt pathetic and helpless, the darkness of his subconscious finally seeing the light and coming forth to reveal itself. It had woven itself into the fear, embedded itself in rage and raw emotion but now he was free to see things as they were, ironically enough, given all the hallucinations. He had a lot of time for reflection and rumination and if a slip of magic happened, you know, so what? That’s just how it was, he was on an island of primes now supposedly, course, Gildarts had an inkling that those figures he had started to see behind those windows and worn curtains were somehow alive. Mortal or immortal, Gildarts didn’t have the eyes to tell.
 
The Prime tried to be stealthy though, he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to himself like his own face had at the pre-show. That type of thing couldn’t be helped, but now, here on the island the competition had begun. Whether his head was in it or not, people would surely be hunting for his head as they had the others.
 
Gildarts kept his eyes open and cautiously wavering as he continued to pass through the monotonous streets. This was kind of his strategy, and had been, since he’d begun to go on jobs in his own verse. Keep walking till he found something. That was how it worked for him. Chance, fate, and luck liked to clash together and slam into a wall. Fortunately for Gildarts, he could generally take the hit.
 
A small purple ball rolled out to him from the abyss of fog. It rolled against the tiny crystals of sediment meshed in the asphalt before Gildarts paused at the touch of it softly colliding with his boot. Vicious, saliva filled giggles surrounded the Prime and Gildarts could not see his pursuants so he turned to face them. The laughing grew louder, though much more like a haunting nightmare than reality, it sounded like two little girls laughing simultaneously, though either or both could have been an echo in the subtle wind.
 
“Who is there?” Gildarts called forth, to the angry spirits he assumed were haunting him, or these deserted streets.
 
“Want to come in for tea?” An elderly woman’s voice called to him, however, she was nowhere in sight. The Prime could only see a few yards around him, the rest were blurs and blobs, condensed piles of molecule and cloud.
 
“Who are you?” Gildarts turned to the left, where he had heard the old woman’s voice, closest to his ear and quickly chased down the sound of her voice. He ran into a wall, no a literal wall. In it, was a metal door just a few feet to the right. Hesitantly he opened the latch upon the door…
 
With an ear-shattering CREEEEEAAAAK! Gildarts released the handle and went inside. Surely the noise would draw them, both his opponents and these… Voices. But were those sounds even real? Could they be mirages from his memories, from Granny and Molly in Ambrosia, but in a much sicker sense?
 
They weren’t here, but who was?
 
Stepping into the doorframe was a tall figure now. One with a familiar face.
 
“Hey there, you here to kill me?” Gildarts said, the challenge posed in his voice.
 
“No, unless you want try your luck?” Illidan said.