This just in

[Erik Vrell]

Erik awoke to the rising sun on his face, a buzzing sound in his mind alerting him that he had a message. He flicked his wrist and a wisp of psi snaked from his sleeve, forming a small, flat screen tinged with purple. He had received instructions from Victor to go ahead without him. The psychic honestly wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, but was glad that he wasn't going to need to worry about being assaulted anymore. 

“Southern accent?” Erik mused to himself. He was sure that his idea of a southern accent and Victor’s would be very different, but he had no idea what to look for. The psychic decided to simply advertise that he was looking for a southern accent and hope that everyone else knew what it was. The first thing he needed was somewhere to record. He stretched sleepily as he got out of his chair, loosening his stiff back and neck. Maybe sleeping at a table in the bazaar wasn't the greatest idea, but he didn't regret it. Despite the stiffness, this was the freshest he had felt in what felt like months. 

“Where do you record radio?” Erik wondered as he got to his feet, calling up his psi screen again. A quick search revealed that radio was recorded in a recording studio. 

“I could have guessed that.” Erik muttered as he brought up images of recording studios, nodding to himself as an image formed in his mind. Confident that he could summon one up, Erik left the bazaar and searched for a vacant building near the palace. It took a surprisingly long time to find one, most buildings having been claimed by loyal citizens wanting to be closer to their King. Despite the extra time it took him, Erik couldn't help but feel happy about the current state of the city. Finally, Erik spotted a building whose roof had caved in, rendering it uninhabitable. Unless one was a prime, of course. Erik summoned up his orb of omnillium and set to work, the rainbow substance enveloping the decrepit building like a huge, sparkling amoeba.

After a solid amount of time, the recording studio was finished. Erik released a heavy breath as he entered the new building. The summoning had taken more out of him than he had expected, the freshness he had felt earlier was nearly gone already. Pushing the glass double doors open, the psychic entered an immaculate foyer, although it was little more than a front desk and a few chairs and tables. Erik had intended to supply magazines for people to read while they waited, but doubted many people would want to read ‘Eldritch horror weekly’, sadly. He resolved to find something people would want to read as he pushed into the next room. 

The next room was the actual studio, although it was split into two smaller rooms, divided by a soundproof glass window. Erik looked over the switchboard on his side of the window, slightly intimidated by the machine. The recording booth was mostly empty, barring the soundproof padding and microphone. Satisfied with his work, Erik summoned up his omnillium once more. Channeling the rainbow substance, the psychic formed a stack of flyers, a number of nails, and a hammer. The flyers read;

“New Babylon radio hiring.

We need loyal citizens to become the voice of the glorious King Gilgamesh and spread his word throughout Nippur. Come to the recording studio near the palace to apply. Southern accents preferable.”

Grabbing his flyers and tools, Erik left the studio and went around Nippur, nailing a flyer wherever he thought people would see it. He placed the most around the palace, although he didn't actually place any on the palace for fear of damaging the glorious building. Once he had placed the last flyer, the psychic made his way back to the recording studio. To his surprise, a number of people were already waiting for their auditions.

“Curses.” Erik muttered under his breath. “I didn't get to summon anything for them to read. Pushing his way into the studio, Erik called to the closest applicant. “Come with me.”

The man followed Erik, before entering the recording booth and putting on headphones. Erik quickly summoned up a piece of paper for the man to read from and handed it to him.  The psychic followed suit and put on the headphones as the man started speaking.

“Good morning, New Babylon. The King has released an announcement that the bandit lord Baron Deathchew and his underlings have been slain. Looks like we can all sleep a little easier at night now that our chances of getting eaten alive have dropped at least 60%.” 

Erik considered the man’s voice for a moment. It wasn't bad, by any means, but it lacked the strength Erik thought someone announcing the good word of the King should have. The psychic thanked the man for his time and called in the next applicant. After a few more ordinary performances, a man walked in with one of the strangest appearances, for a secondary, at least, that Erik had seen in a long time. The man was around 50 and on the fatter side, with a large, bushy moustache. He wore a spotless white polo-shirt and pants over his bulky form, with a matching white 10 gallon hat. 

“How are ya’ doin’?” He asked in a thick southern twang, snapping Erik from his stupor. He obviously knew that Erik was staring at his outfit, but wore a wry smile on his face, rather than look upset. 

“Uh, good, thank you.” The psychic replied as he showed the man into the recording booth. The cowboy-hatted man cleared his throat as he settled in, donned the headphones, without removing his hat, and started reading. His voice was deep and smooth, but had a powerful undertone to it that the last few applicants had been missing. Erik didn't even know what the old west was, yet he felt like he was there when he listened to the cowboy(?) before him. 

“Well, how was I?” The man said as he stepped out of the recording booth. 

“That was fantastic.” Erik said in awe. “What's your name?”

The man chuckled at the compliment. “Thank ye’, son. Name’s Bill, but most people call me Big Bill.”

“Why is that?”

“On account of my large cowboy hat. Why d’ya think?” Both men chuckled for a moment, before Erik caught something in the corner of his eye and turned around to see something strange. A large pile of sand, bigger than a person, was piled in the back corner of the studio. 

“That wasn't there before.” Erik said, confused.

“So, you finally noticed!” A slightly muffled voice boomed from beneath the pile of sand. To Erik’s astonishment, a man rose up from beneath the sand, looking even stranger than Big Bill. Despite his powerful voice, commanding and tinged with a slight hard to place, but commanding, accent, the man was not the visage of a proud warrior that should bear such a voice. Instead, he was dressing entirely in sand coloured clothing, with a small cape of feathers hanging from his collar. He wore a similarly coloured bandana and, most bizarrely, a pair of glowing green goggles. The man laughed heartily at the shock of the pair, his ponytail bobbing with his exaggerated movements.

“Hello, Erik Vrell! And goodbye!” As he finished the last word, he produced a dagger from within his patchwork clothing and tossed it at Erik. The psychic prepared himself to pluck it out of the air with his telekinesis, but didn't have to. The dagger landed handle first on the table, more than a metre from where Erik was standing. 

“A stunning dodge, clearly you are a worthy opponent!” The bandit said while crossing his arms and nodding sagely, as if he was a philosopher solving the meaning of life.

“Who are you?” Erik demanded as he drew Mageslayer. 

“My name is Sand Hawk, bandit lord of the flying viper clan, and I have come to prevent you from spreading the word of Gilgamesh to the people of this city, in the memory of my fallen-”

“Stop it with the run on sentences!” Erik cried. The bandit was starting to give him a headache.

“Never!” Sand Hawk exclaimed, forming his hand into a fist as he did so. “Sand Hawk only runs on, he never runs off!” 

Before the bandit could utter another word, Big Bill drew a revolver and shot him in the shoulder.

“Ah, shit! Sand Hawk will run off, just this once, but we will meet again, Erik Vrell!” The bandit lord announced before dashing out the door, gripping his shoulder. The psychic sighed as he rubbed his forehead. 

“Thank you, Bill.” Erik said as he sat down. “You’ve basically got the job. I'll call you tomorrow, probably, but you won't have to work until all the preparation is done.”

“Thank ye’ kindly.” Big Bill said as he doffed his hat to Erik. “See ya’ around.” 

Erik buried his face in his hands for a moment, wishing he could just take a nap to recover from the most exhausting five minutes of his life. After a few minutes of getting it together, Erik called out to those waiting in the foyer.

“Next!”

The door creaked open and a familiar sand-coloured bandit entered the room.

“We meet again, Erik Vrell!” Sand Hawk announced proudly as he strode in, sounding as if Erik had walked into his trap.

“LEAVE!” Erik roared, his eyes flaring up with psychic energy.

“Okay, but only because I've got place to be, not because you told me to!” Sand Hawk replied as he spun around and strode back out the door. Erik almost sobbed as he groaned to himself. Cleaning up that sand could take hours. At least it was better than Victor’s lewd remarks…

“Next!”

[Erik Vrell]

Erik stretched as the last applicant left the recording studio. Just as he had guessed, none of them could match Bill’s voice. The mindbreaker was still exhausted from his encounter with Sand Hawk, and he was almost ready to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon. Erik got out of his chair and locked the door as he left the studio.

“I haven't gotten somewhere to sleep yet.” Erik thought to himself as he wandered through the city streets. His thought were interrupted by Gilgamesh’s commanding voice filling the air. 

“The bandits are getting bolder.” Erik thought to himself as he rushed to aid his King. Before he could reach the wall, however, the ground in front of him seemed to explode, showering him in sand. As he saw the glowing green eyes staring at him, Erik quickly realised that it was not an explosive that had blocked his path, but he almost wished it was. 

“Erik Vrell, we meet once more!” Sand Hawk cried as he drew another dagger from inside his patchwork coat. 

“How do you keep doing that?” Erik sputtered incredulously. The bandit seemed to be anywhere where he could get sand. Sand Hawk chuckled at the psychic’s question, as if he were a child asking an obvious question.

“This is my invincible technique: Sand Veil. With this technique I can seamlessly blend into the sand, so I am hidden from my foes, but they are not safe from me, thanks to these thermal goggles I bought from Omnizon!” The bandit laughed as he tapped the green-lenses goggles. “Now, Erik, it's time to die, for I cannot allow you to interfere with Dudgeon’s mission!”

“So you're working with the bandits assaulting Gilgamesh?” Erik said, his expression turning dark. The psychic had given up trying to stay deadpan around Sand Hawk, it just wasn't possible.

“Well, not exactly, or at all, really, but if he does his job then that helps me!” Sand Hawk announced as Erik drew Mageslayer. The psychic slipped seamlessly into a combat stance, while Sand Hawk hesitated for a moment. Erik watched as the bandit moved into what vaguely resembled a combat stance, clutching his dagger shakily in his left hand. Erik realised that the bandit was right handed, and that Big Bill’s bullet had struck home in his shoulder. 

The Erik closed in on Sand Hawk quickly, raising Mageslayer menacingly. The bandit raised his dagger in a clumsy attempt to parry, only to have his weapon knocked from his hand. 

“Surrender now,” Erik commanded. “I don't like killing the defenceless and pathetic, and you just so happen to be both.”

“Oh?!” Sand Hawk said curiously. “What makes you think I'm defenceless?!” The bandit reached into his cobbled together clothing once more, producing another jagged, scrap metal dagger. The rusted weapon whistled as it came towards Erik’s neck, only to be intercepted by the tempered steel of Mageslayer. The second dagger was quickly torn from Sand Hawks grip, and was soon joined by the third blade. And the fourth. And the fifth. The bandit had a seemingly endless supply of knives, daggers and shivs in his coat, and was not shy about wasting them. 

Sick of Sand Hawk’s frustrating fighting style, Erik lunged towards the bandit as he went for another blade. The psychic and the bandit tumbled to the ground as a dozen more daggers clattered to the floor around them, sorely tempting Erik to strangle the man. 

“This would have been an easy battle had I not have been shot in the thigh earlier!” Sand Hawk exclaimed as Erik sprung up and kneeled on the bandit’s chest, preventing him from climbing to his feet. The psychic didn't care enough to give Sand Hawk an anatomy lesson, instead he was interested in exactly why he kept harassing him. Erik slammed his hand onto the man’s face as violet flames ignited in his eyes.

“You mind is laid bear before the mad god’s will!” Erik roared, the invocation sending a jolt of psi running down his arm and into the mind of the impossibly frustrating bandit. Amethyst light flared from the bandit’s eyes as a connection was forced between his mind and the priest above him, although it was hidden beneath his goggles. 

The man’s mind was a mess, just as Erik had expected from someone who had been living in the empty desert for Gods knew how long. Erik attempted to steer his thoughts towards King Gilgamesh and the bandits who had sent him. Attempting to evoke the memory of him being sent to Nippur sent the man into a silent frenzy, a blur of thought flashing through his mind, disorienting the intruding psychic. Erik didn't relent, however, and pushed harder into his mind, trying to burst through the steam of thoughts keeping him away from the vital information. The priests tried every trick he knew, stimulating the pain centre, releasing dopamine, even trying to flood his mind with the suggestion of giving in until he relented, but nothing seemed to be working. 

Erik was almost ready to give up when he managed to slip in through a crack he had missed before. It was incredibly minor, but Erik found that he could sense the raw emotion pouring out from the thoughts, although the thoughts themselves were blocked. A shock of sadness, fear and desperation struck Erik as he brought up the orders the bandit was given. 

“I can work with this.” Erik thought to himself as he released Sand Hawk from his mental grip. “What happened to you? Why do you follow orders that you despise? And… Can I help?” With any luck, the incompetent bandit would lead him right to the ringleader.

“I can't refuse them!” Sand Hawk said, a hint of hope in his voice as he realised that the man he was sent to kill might be his ally after all. “We never wanted to challenge Gilgamesh, so they have captured my clan, and they'll slaughter them all if I don't stop Nippur from being rebuilt!” Erik’s heart raced as the gravity of the situation hit him, as well as a twinge of sympathy. A turncoat was exactly what he needed to get to the bandit’s self-imposed boss, and he was willing to help a man so dedicated to his people.

“Take me there, and I’ll help you free your clan.” Erik said as he stood up and extended a hand to the bandit. Sand Hawk looked at the hand, then up at psychic smiling down at him, before taking it gratefully. 

“Sand Hawk, welcome to your salvation.” Erik said as he hauled the bandit to his feet. The psychic moved to go to the King before pausing. The King was mighty enough to pull himself out of the underverse, a few bandits would be child’s play to him. It was more important that Erik struck at the heart of Sand Hawk’s black ailers before it got out of hand. 

“Let's go, then.” Erik urged as he sheathed Mageslayer.

“Of course!” Sand Hawk replied as he signalled for Erik to follow. “Just let me get my bearings and remember which way they were in relation to the sun’s position an-” 

“Don't talk, just find them.” Erik suddenly remembered why he had been so ready to murder the man before.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik had wanted to ride to the bandit outpost, but Sand Hawk insisted on “Being one with the dunes!” which apparently involved long, haphazard treks through the desert, taking what could have been a half hour trip into a two hour wander through the scorching heat. 

“We are almost there, I can sense the lamentations of my people from here!” Sand Hawk announced out of the blue, although this was quickly becoming a common occurrence.

“Just as you sensed their lamentations the last four times? If we don't get there soon the only thing that's going to be lamenting is your goggles when I smash them on the floor.” The irritated psychic replied, sick of nothing but sand dunes with the eccentric bandit as his only company.

“You wouldn't!” Sand Hawk gasped. “But you need not even consider it, look over there!” The bandit pointed to a speck on the horizon, steadily getting closer as the men marched forwards. Erik soon realised that it wasn't just one speck, but a small mass of them. The specks quickly became blobs, which quickly focused into buildings. Bandits flitted in and out of the cobbled together shacks, going about whatever a bandit does when they aren't raiding. The psychic could also spot cages dotted around the camp, holding what Erik presumed was Sand Hawk’s clan mates. The captives were occasionally prodded at by bored bandits, but were largely ignored. 

“This is it!” Sand Hawk announced as the pair arrived at the camp, hiding from sight behind a shack. “Let's strike quickly, I don't see any of the generals around!” 

Erik nodded in silent agreement as he summoned his psi bow and took aim at the nearest bandit. The violet arrow flew true, striking the clueless man in the temple, then dissipating before he hit the ground. The psychic and his bandit companion moved like a phantom through the camp, Erik’s arrows and Sand Hawk’s seemingly endless supply of throwing knives making quick work of the grunts patrolling the camp. Erik was more surprised at the fact that Sand Hawk hadn't spoken in the last five minutes than his sudden ability to land his knives. 

Less than two dozen bandits later, and the pair were hurrying to break the cages open. Sand Hawk had some success jimmying the cages open with his daggers, while Erik had no such luck. Deciding to forego lock picking, Erik drew the crude troll axe he had strapped to his back, having sat neglected since he had left the frozen fields, and swung the heavy blade towards the basic lock, shattering it. The axe made quick work of the cage locks, and the duo had most of the captives freed in short order. 

“Go, I'll meet you in Nippur, tell them you mean well!” Sand Hawk hissed to his clan mates as the small crowd quietly celebrated their freedom. 

“Why don't you come with us?” A bandit inquired, followed by a chorus of agreements. 

“We’ve gotta take care of the generals, or they’ll just recapture you, or kill us all!” Sand Hawk said, ushering his people away. The bandits reluctantly agreed, but not before whispering something to Sand Hawk. The bandit lord nodded vigorously as the clan quickly made their exit, leaving Erik and Sand Hawk alone. Erik opened his mouth to say something, but paused when he heard whispering nearby. 

“It's too quiet out there. What’s happening?” A male voice said, just loud enough to make out. 

“Go check if you're so concerned about it.” A female voice replied. The male voice grunted something in response before Erik heard the shifting of someone getting to their feet. A man in a full suit of scrap metal armour spray painted red emerged from the nearest shed, the bored look on his face vanishing as he saw the empty cages and bodies spread around the camp, with Erik and Sand Hawk in the middle. The bandit mouthed ‘holy shit’ silently before slowly backing into the building.

“Everyone’s dead!” He hissed, a little too loud to hide his panic.

“Huh?” The female voice replied, sounding just as shocked. “You're fucking with me, right?” 

“No, I'm not, everyone's dead and Sand Hawk is out there with a New Babylonian.” 

“You know what that means, right?”

“Of course.”

“Promotions!” Both voices cried in unison, before the roof of the shack seemed to blow off the building and three oddly dressed bandits exploded out. 

“In the desert heat, through peace and strife!” The man in red cried, striking a heroic pose as he did so.

“We alone stand above all life!” The woman, dressed in what appeared to be a salvaged wetsuit, complete with snorkel, with wings crudely attached to it, shouted.

“We strike anywhere, in day and night.” The man announced, flexing his muscles, despite them being hidden beneath his cobbled together armour. 

“Every challenge is just a test of our might!” The woman proclaimed, taking on a pose similar to a hamstring stretch. 

“Roaring Salamander!” The man said, puffing out his chest and grinning.

“Killer Mosquito!” The woman almost screamed, adopting an airplane pose as if she was taking off.

“We are Crimson sandstorm, here to fight!” The pair announced together, adopting a back to back pose. “Hit it, Pig!”

The formerly silent third bandit, a skinny ginger dressed in cobbled together clothing, raised a flute to his lips and played a few notes. Erik had to admit that this was one of the deadliest bandit teams he had ever seen, because he felt like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“Killer Mosquito, you and Stalwart Rhino take on Sand Hawk, while Pig and I take on the New Babylonian.” Roaring Salamander said as he quickly scanned the camp. “Oh, shit, Stalwart Rhino is dead. Okay, uh, you can take Sand Hawk alone, we’ll handle this guy.”

Sand Hawk gave Erik a thumbs up as he dashed off to another part of the camp, Killer Mosquito in hot pursuit, her taped-on wings fluttering behind her. The psychic drew Mageslayer as he faced off against the two bandits, although Pig seemed far less interested than Roading Salamander. 

“So, New Babylonian, do you want to surrender now? We’ll just cut your head off and our boss gives us a big bonus, and you won't even suffer! It's win-win!” Roaring Salamander said, a massive grin on his face as if he had just won the lottery.

“No!” Erik roared. “I've had to spend two gods-forsaken hours around the most inane bandits in the dunes, and I'm ready to tear this whole camp apart!” The psychic moved to advance on the bandit before a firecracker came whizzing towards his head, detonating inches from his face. The psychic grunted in mild pain as his face was slightly singed, before blocking another firecracker coming towards him.

“Your attack is throwing firecrackers?” Erik cried incredulously. 

“No, fool, this is my technique, Salamander’s Roar!” The bandit said as he lit another firecracker and tossed it towards the frustrated psychic. “We stole these from an Omnizon shipment that we ordered, just for the rush!” 

The bandit tossed another firecracker at Erik, who batted it back at the man. To both of their surprise, the firecracker dropped down the collar of Roaring Salamander’s scrapyard armour. Both men looked at each other for a moment, before the firecracker detonated, setting of a chain reaction with the rest of the stash.

“Aaaaaah! I burn, I burn!” The bandit cried as pops sounded out from his armour like a bag of extra loud popcorn. He slowly dropped to his knees and clutched at his heart dramatically as the last firecracker went off. 

“I am… Defeated…” He groaned as he dropped onto his face. “Can you get me some burn cream after this whole thing is over?” 

Erik was sorely tempted to finish the bandit off, but decided against it, instead turning to Pig. The man was barely paying attention to the fight, instead focusing on tuning his flute. 

“I'm just gonna leave.” He said as he pocketed the instrument. “I've got a recital coming up in a few hours and I should really get going.”

“Before you go, I need to ask you a question.” Erik said, the bandit nodding for him to go on. “Why do they have titles in front of their animal but you’re just pig?”

“Oh, I haven't earned my title yet. Pig is just my name.” He said as if it were the most obvious this in the world, before walking off into the desert. Erik stared at the man incredulously as he left, before being tapped on the shoulder. The psychic turned to see Sand Hawk standing beside him, with Killer Mosquito halfway through one of the flimsy walls of the shacks. 

“How are you suddenly so capable of fighting?” Erik asked, still in disbelief of the sudden skyrocket in skill.

“Fighting a prime made me nervous!” Sand Hawk said, not quite able to meet Erik’s gaze. “So I tried to just play it cool, and hope that I could intimidate you as well!”

“Right… So, can we leave now?” Erik inquired, the eerie silence of the camp pressing down on him. 

“No, we still need to kill the guy running this camp!” Sand Hawk replied, his eyes darting around nervously.

“I've got no reason to be worried.” Erik thought to himself. “If the generals are any indication of the leader’s personality, he’ll probably be the most incompetent o-” Before he could finish his thought, chains bound to cruel, jagged blades erupted from the sands, digging into Erik’s flesh and holding him tight. The psychic opened his mouth to reflexively cry for help, but was yanked under the dunes, choking his words in sand. The chains ripped Erik along, cutting messy gashes into his skin as he was hauled up to the surface. Just as the psychic emerged and gasped down a breath of air, he was slammed to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. A heavy boot crushed into his back as the chains pulled up, digging deeper into his body. Erik’s captor leaned down until the psychic could see a pair of cruel grey eyes boring into his soul, and another jagged knife poised to slash his throat.

“My name is Emperor Scorpion.” The man hissed, his voice low and gravelly as if he hadn't used it in years. “And you, Erik Vrell, are in my domain.”

[Erik Vrell]

Erik resisted the urge to struggle against his bindings, the barbed links of the chains already digging into his flesh. The psychic’s focus was drawn towards the jagged knife heading towards his throat, halting its advance with his telekinesis. Emperor Scorpion struggled to plunge his blade towards his victim’s throat, grunting with effort. After a minutes of struggling, the bandit lord gave up. 

“You're a tenacious one, I’ll give you that. I'd expect no less.” Emperor Scorpion spat, moving out of the psychic’s limited field of vision. Erik cried out as half a dozen knives dug into his skin at once, the agony causing his vision to blur. 

“What do you want?” Erik gasped, barely clinging to consciousness. “How do you know my name?”

“We’ve been watching you.” The bandit King chuckled maliciously, his laughter a deep, throaty rasping sound. “Sand Hawk isn't good at much, but at least he can sit under the sand and listen without fucking up too badly. The dunes don't need a ruler, boy, we don't need civilisation. We survived in chaos, we thrived in it, and as it once was, again it shall be.”

“So you're behind everything plaguing Nippur?” Erik asked, rage creeping into his voice despite his vulnerable position. Another rasping chuckle escaped the bandit’s mouth.

“No, I can't say I am. But if they succeed, so do I, so lending a couple of men never hurts.” 

“You could never hope to face King Gilgamesh.” Erik spat, his voice filled with hate, groping for his axe, sure that he had dropped it nearby. “Your mission has been doomed from the start.” 

“No, I cannot handle Gilgamesh myself. But I don't have to.” Emperor Scorpion said, hooking a chain around Erik’s throat. The psychic strained himself to hold back the chain, but found that his telekinesis had abandoned him.

“What-” He gasped as the cruel serrated links dug into his throat, his powers refusing to come forth. 

“I see the poison is working nicely.” The bandit King said as he pulled the chains a little tighter, bringing pinpoints of flashing light into his victim’s vision. “As I was saying, I don't have to fight Gilgamesh. I just have to drive off all of his followers until all that's left is him, King of nothing.”

“Gilgamesh will come for you.” Erik spat feebly. The psychic screamed internally for his powers to return, uttering every prayer he knew, even as his thoughts began to blur together. Of course, there was no response, and the gravity of the situation began to sink in. Erik had gone for years without the subtle presence of the mad God at the back of his mind, but his powers at least gave him some solace that Gal’skap was with him in some way. For the first time in over a decade, Erik was truly cut off from his patron. The realisation closed in on him like a thick blanket of smoke, almost as choking as the chains around his neck. Emperor Scorpion was not ignorant of the psychic’s struggle, and wheezed maniacally as he watched his victim spasm in the throes of despair. 

“Come on, boy, I'll let you call for help. Go on, scream for Gilgamesh.” The bandit King said as he loosened the links just enough. 

“H-help!” Erik cried, his voice hoarse from the poison creeping through his veins. Emperor Scorpion’s laughter redoubled at the display.

“See, boy, your King isn't coming.” 

“I wasn't calling for him.” Erik spat, his expression venomous enough to kill had he not been pinned face down to the floor. The bandit King turned around as he heard something behind him. A dagger whistled through the air, narrowly missing the bandit. 

“Emperor Scorpion, your reign ends here, just as I promised but, didn't actually say because I was scared that you'd cut my legs off, months ago!” Sand Hawk roared. 

To Erik’s surprise, the chains binding him retracted, and the heavy boot pinning him to the floor left his back. The psychic struggled to right himself as he heard the sound of shifting sand, but his torn and weakened muscles couldn't bear his weight. Sand Hawk rushed over to the psychic and uncapped a vial of clear liquid, raising it to his allie’s lips. 

“Here, it's the antidote to Emperor Scorpion’s poison, I've been sitting on this for just the right moment.” Sand Hawk said, obviously in a hurry to get the psychic back on his feet. Erik gratefully took the antidote, warmth rapidly returning to limbs he hadn't even realised were numb. 

“I owe you.” Erik said as he rose to his feet, grabbing his axe and gingerly touching his throat to make sure the bleeding wasn't serious. The psychic took a look at the bandit and noticed he looked somewhat different. Realising what it was, Erik took a cautious step back, pointing to the bandit’s cape. “Sand Hawk, what the hell is that thing?” 

A rusted jetpack was tied to his back, adorned with haphazardly placed hawk feathers. The pack looked like it could explode at any moment, and Sand Hawk held the ripcord in his hand, ready to start it up.

“It's my secret weapon that he took from me. Now, no time to explain, but we’ve gotta move!” Sand Hawk shouted as he pulled on the cord, the twin turbine of the jetpack roaring to life with a belch of smoke. Before Erik could object, Sand Hawk rushed forward and grabbed him, the pair taking off at ludicrous speed.

“Tell me what the hell is happening!” Erik demanded, but Sand Hawk didn't have to answer. A bump in the sands could be seen chasing after the pair, keeping pace even as they raced across the dunes. Even as the scenery whipped past at breakneck speeds, the mound drew closer and, to Erik’s horror, half a dozen barbed chains, each tipped with a jagged, rusted knife, emerged from the sands like nightmarish serpents. Each chain moved on its own, striking like a cobra at the fleeing pair, only narrowly missing each time.

“I can't keep this up for long, have you got anything?” Sand Hawk shouted over the roar of the jetpack’s engine and the screaming wind. Erik reached into the depths of his mind while he tied the axe onto his back, and the font of power that he had missed so dearly responded with glee. Psi exploded from the psychic’s sleeves as his eyes lit up like amethystine stars, coalescing into the familiar shape of his great psi bow. Erik drew back his arm over Sand Hawk’s shoulder, an arrow appearing in the bow, right on cue. Charging even more power into the arrow, the projectile started to throb, the steady heartbeat signalling its destructive potential. 

The psychic took careful aim at the centre of the chains, conscious that he only had one shot. Adjusting his aim to where the bandit King would be when he loosed the arrow, Erik released the pulsing projectile, the weight of his wrath behind the shot. The arrow pierced through the sands with deadly precision, the mound faltering and falling behind as the shot hit home.

“Here comes the good part.” Erik called to Sand Hawk, signalling for him to slow down. The bandit gave Erik a strange look before complying, his jetpack slowing before dropping the pair to the ground. The telltale bump in the sand began to move towards to pair again, before the sand around it erupted in a brilliant violet explosion. Grit showered the area as Emperor Scorpion was revealed, and Erik got a clear look at him for the first time. 

The bandit King was surprisingly older than Erik had expected, the little hair he had a faded grey and his skin wrinkled, but his form was still fit and muscular. He wore a suit of segmented black armour, and instead being shoddily prepared like the armour of his subordinates, the suit was expertly made into the likeness of an emperor scorpion’s carapace. Six holes were bored into the suit, allowing the horrific array of seemingly sentient chains to reach the outside world, and a large portion of it had been torn away in the violence of the arrows detonation. 

“Surrender yourself, bandit.” Erik demanded, his anger ignited by the spark of pain that showed itself when he spoke.

“No! Not like this! I will complete my mission!” The bandit King roared as he shakily rose to his feet. “The dunes will return to chaos, the strong will rule, and the weak will die! Just as it is meant to be!” 

“You're delusional.” Erik spat. “The dunes will be united beneath the banner of New Babylon. Not you, not Baron Deathchew, not even Diablo himself can stop this vision from being realised. It is destiny.” 

“No… I still draw breath, and I will fight until my last. Now come,” Emperor Scorpion hissed, raising his arms in challenge. “Face the Emperor of the sands.”

Erik lunged forwards, psi crackling forth from beneath his skin as he overcharged his body, drawing Mageslayer and summoning a psi blade to his hand as he rushed towards the bandit King. Even in his empowered state, however, Erik was not prepared for Emperor Scorpion’s retaliation. Each chain extending from his back moved with a mind now it's own, each pinpointing and lunging towards a weak point, just as another foiled blow after blow aimed at their master. The bandit King gripped the handle of one of the rusted knives, bringing it to bear against the mindbreaker. Even with the combined efforts of Erik and Sand Hawk’s limitless supply of flying daggers, neither could manage to land a scratch on the deceptively agile bandit King. 

“I’m going to try something!” Sand Hawk thought at Erik, the psychic barely catching what he said as he yanked the ripcord on his jetpack and shot off into the distance. Cruel laughter sounded out from the bandit King as Erik paused for just a moment, and his feet were yanked out from under him.

“Now, where were we before that fool so rudely interrupted us? Ah yes, the futility of resistance.” Emperor Scorpion crowed as he whipped a chain towards Erik’s prone figure, drawing cries of agony from his victim.

“Chaos is the natural state of the world.” The bandit grunted as another chain sliced towards Erik, tearing lacerations into his body.

“Order is an illusion, a lie, a denial of your natural state.” Erik curled up into a ball, shielding his face and stomach from the cruel lash of the chains. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he could see a cloud of sand on the horizon.

“Only the strongest can survive in this world, that's why you, and Gilgamesh, and everything other bandit will all kneel. Because the strongest in this world is-” 

“SAND HAWK PUUUUUUNCH!” Sand Hawk bellowed, rushing along at unbelievable speeds only a few feet from the ground, his fist wound back for the haymaker of a lifetime. Emperor Scorpion barely had time to question what was happening before his former subordinate’s fist collided with his face at the speed of Sand Hawk, there simply being no other way to describe it. The jetpack kicked up a massive cloud of sand as the bandit shot past, obscuring the bandit king’s flying form from view. Sand Hawk skidded to a halt a few hundred metres away and Erik, sure that the bandit King wouldn't be getting up from a hit like that, rushed over to his ally.

“Are you ok?” Erik asked, helping the banged up bandi to his feet. 

“I've been worse!” Sand Hawk said, his voice full of excitement. Erik guessed that that had been the first time he had successfully pulled off a ‘Sand Hawk punch’. “My fist in kinda numb though, and I'm not sure if it's a fist anymore!” 

The pair made their way over to Emperor Scorpion, flipping his unmoving form over. His neck was twisted far further than it had any right to be, yet the bandit King’s eyes still flitted around, his mouth gasping for air as he struggled against shock. As much as Erik despised the man, that was no way to go. Erik didn't want to be killed by Sand Hawk either. Drawing his troll axe once more, Erik said a quiet prayer for the man before raising the crude blade above his head.

“Go in peace.” The psychic said as he lopped the man’s head from his shoulders, his cruel eyes finally peaceful in death. 

“Excellent job, if I do say so myself!” Sand Hawk said brightly as he stretched, obviously trying not to look at the mangled remains of his hand. “We, uh, we can fix this, right?!”

“I'm sure the hospital can take care of it.” Erik replied. “Now, let's grab those two over at the camp and head home. I feel like I'm about to pass out.”

“You look like it, too!” 

“I'm not sure if that was meant to be an insult or not…” 

Heading back to the camp, Erik pulled Killer Mosquito from the shoddily constructed shack and bound her and Roaring Salamander’s hands. The red armoured bandit would not stay quiet about his burns as Sand Hawk led the two through the desert, which Erik, frankly, could not care less about. After 15 minutes of Erik guiding the group rather than Sand Hawk, they arrived at Nippur, just as the sun was starting to go down. Erik handed the pair of bandits off to the guards to keep watch of, but not before assuring them they were harmless, and showed Sand Hawk to the hospital.

“You should heal here too!” The bandit said as he looked the bloodied psychic over. 

“I’ll be fine.” Erik assured him. “Natural prime regeneration.” Sand Hawk nodded sagely, reminding Erik of their first meeting in a strange rush of nostalgia. 

“Can I ask a favour of you, Erik?!” Sand Hawk asked, receiving a nod from the psychic. “I want to be on the New Babylon radio!” There was a moment of silence as the two men looked at each other for a moment.

“So, when you applied for the radio position before, you weren't just trying to assassinate me. I should have guessed…” Erik sighed. “Okay, if you're fine with being Bill’s cohost you can have the job.”

“Ah, what a glorious day this has been, thank you, Erik Vrell, you will not regret this!” Sand Hawk said cheerfully, pumping his mangled hand in the air triumphantly.

“Maybe cut back on the run on sentences, too.” Erik suggested quietly as he turned to leave, Sand Hawk heading into the hospital in turn. 

“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to take the goggles off…” Erik overheard a nurse say.

“NEVER!” Sand Hawk replied, eliciting a small chuckle from Erik, despite himself.

The psychic made his way over to the empty recording studio and unlocked the door, relocating it as he went inside. Erik lay across a few chairs as he laid back, careful not to bleed on the fresh carpet.

“Job well done.” Erik thought to himself. “Although I'd be willing to let Victor take care of it next time.”

[Erik Vrell]

Erik’s attempts at sleep were thwarted by persistent thoughts barging into his mind. Again and again, his train of thought wandered to Emperor Scorpion’s weapons, the seemingly animated chains that slashed and defended on their own. Sitting up after an hour of failed slumber, Erik decided that he needed to take a look at those chains. The psychic climbed out of his makeshift bed of chairs and unlocked the door, stepping out into the evening air of the dunes. 

“How am I going to find my way back to his body?” Erik muttered to himself as he stretched his legs. “I guess I'll just make my way back to the camp and go from there…” 

The psychic reached for his omnillium to summon a horse, before realising that he hadn't actually desummoned the horse he rode into Nippur on. Erik mentally whistled for the animal, then moments later the grey mare trotted up to him, accepting a pat on the mane. Mounting his horse, Erik lead the animal out of Nippur and into the slowly darkening dunes. The psychic was grateful for his mount after arriving at the camp in less than ten minutes of travel. 

“If I'm quick I can get back to Nippur before it gets dark.” Erik thought cheerfully as he turned his horse towards where Emperor Scorpion had dragged him. The psychic looked around and immediately knew where to go, a massive gash cut in the sand by the exhaust of Sand Hawk’s jetpack. Erik followed the messy path until he came to a larger hole punched in the sand by his arrow. From there, Erik easily spotted the black armour that encased Emperor Scorpion’s headless body, riding over to it and hauling the corpse onto his horse. His bounty in hand, Erik rode back to Nippur, the headless body strapped to his mount like a gruesome trophy, which wasn't too far from the truth. The bandit king’s chains hung limp from his body, but Erik kept an eye on them as he rode, afraid that they might suddenly spring to life and tear him apart.

Arriving outside the city walls in one piece, Erik flashed his New Babylon emblem to the guards to ensure them he wasn't a psychopath bringing a headless corpse into the city. Or that he was allowed to do it, at least. Bringing the body into the recording studio, Erik forgot about his earlier inhibitions about keeping the floor clean, consumed in his curiosity. The psychic drew a table over to himself with his telekinesis before dumping the bandit’s body on it with a thud. 

“Let's see the secret behind these chains.” Erik said, almost shaking with anticipation. The psychic rolled the body onto its front before pulling the ruined black armour off of it, revealing a grisly sight beneath. Cruel barbed chains were wrapped tightly around the bandit’s upper torso, forming a thick band of black steel around his chest. Erik got to work carefully unwrapping the chains from his body, keeping a cautious eye on the previously animate weapons. The outer layer of chains came undone easily, while the inner layers were more gruesome, obviously having dug into the bandit’s flesh for some time. 

Six large steel rings were pierced into the bandit’s back, each one connected to one of the six bladed chains emerging from his back. Erik gingerly reached out to touch one of the rings, with no response. Feeling a little braver, Erik tugged on the ring lightly, feeling it pull at something under his skin. 

“There's something in there.” Erik muttered to himself as he drew Mageslayer and carefully lowered it down, probing into the headless bandit’s back. No more than an inch beneath the surface, inside the bandit’s ribcage, Erik felt something solid inside his body. He was certain it wasn't bone, it felt too tough for that, but he wasn't sure what exactly it was. To his horror, the chains stirred slightly when he prodded the object, but didn't completely animate. Erik called upon his orb of omnillium and summoned up a razor sharp scalpel, preparing himself for his gruesome work. 

Operating slowly, Erik sliced through the corpse’s skin, muscle and bone, careful not to strike the strange object. Erik separated bone and viscera until he had a clear path to pull the thing from the bandit’s body, then checked and doubled checked his work. Once he was sure that the rings wouldn't get caught on a rib, and that he had a straight route to pull through, the psychic yanked it free with a swift pull. The object was similar in size and shape to a heart, and made of a strange black metal. The six rings he had seen before we spaced evenly around its surface, slipping seamlessly in and out of the thing. Numerous ritualistic symbols were engraved into the object, and hieroglyphs were visible along its length. Erik held the object at arm’s length, hoping that he would be able to smash it before the chains choked the life out of him, but they remained dormant.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Erik set the object down on the table as he took the body of Emperor Scorpion outside. Deciding that his foe deserved a half decent burial, Erik stepped outside the city walls and laid the body down before digging the closest thing he could get to a grave in the sand. He gently placed the body in before covering it back over, slightly guilty that he hadn't brought the bandit’s head with him. 

Returning to the studio, Erik inspected the object carefully, trying to decipher the hieroglyphs emblazoned on it. The pictograms depicted people performing some type of ritual with the object, but Erik was tired and in no mood to figure out an ancient ritual until he had gotten a good sleep. Erik called upon his omnillium again and summoned a steel box, placing the object inside. The psychic stashed the object under the desk in the recording room, hoping that no one would find it while it was there. Satisfied with his work, Erik laid back across his makeshift bed and closed his eyes, forgetting about his fatigue and the fact that he was going to have to clean up a lot of blood tomorrow as sleep crept over him.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik woke to the sun shining through the windows of the recording studio, splashing lazily across the empty foyer. The psychic stretched his stiff body as he rose from his makeshift bed, his back tight from the lack of support.

“I really need a new bed.” He groaned as he stood up. His thoughts turned back to the objects he had extracted from Emperor Scorpion’s body last night, and curiosity bubbled up inside him once more. A thought striking him, Erik summoned his communicator and called Sand Hawk.

“Hello, Sand Hawk speaking!” The bandit exclaimed as he answered the call.

“Sand Hawk, it's me. Can you come down to the recording studio?” Erik asked.

“Of course!” Sand Hawk said, as Erik realised that he sounded much clearer than he should. Spinning around, Erik found that the bandit was already in the studio with him. There was a moment's pause between the two as Erik tried to understand what was happening.

“How long have you been here?” The psychic asked, a little unnerved.

“Since they kept me out of the hospital, I was just so excited to start my career as a radio star!” Sand Hawk replied cheerfully, as if there was nothing wrong with that statement.

“Ok… Do you know anything about Emperor Scorpion’s chains?” Erik inquired as he went and grabbed the box containing the object.

“All I know is that he's had them for as long as I've worked for him, and that they- holy shit!” Sand Hawk cried as Erik took the lid off the box, revealing the mass of rusted chains and the heart-like core. “Wha- when?! How?!”

“I went and found his body last night, then I ripped this out of his back.” Erik said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most typical thing in the world. “And I want you to help me implant it in my back.”

“Well, alright!” Sand Hawk said, failing to hide the nervousness in his voice. “Do you know how it works?” 

Erik studied the hieroglyphs lining the object, trying to make out what each was depicting. They seemed to show the process used to fuse the object into someone’s body but, disturbingly, each one depicted some form of sacrifice or similarly dark offering. 

“Looks like we need a blood sacrifice to numb the pain, open the back, fuse the thing through the ribs, seal the wound and animate the chains, if my analysis is correct.” Erik said grimly. “Luckily, we’ll only need blood for the last step.”

“But who will we sacrifice?!” Sand Hawk asked uneasily. 

“Well, I can just use my own blood.” Erik replied casually.

“Oh…! Of course…!” The bandit sighed. “So, how do we start?!”

“We’ll use this as an operating table.” Erik said as he lay down face first on the table he had cut Emperor Scorpion open on the night before. “How’s your hand doing?”

“Good as new!”

“Excellent. Go lock the door, and make sure no one can see in.” Erik ordered, taking his cloak and shirt off as the bandit did as he was told. 

“Now what?!” Sand Hawk asked.

“There should be a scalpel around somewhere, can you see it?” Erik said. The bandit searched around for a moment before crouching under the table and producing the scalpel from beneath.

“Is this sanitary?!” The bandit exclaimed as he inspected the still bloody scalpel.

“What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean?!”

“It's just a scalpel.” Erik said, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“But it's covered in blood, and who knows where Emperor Scorpion has been!” Sand Hawk cried.

“Fine, if you're that worried about it go rub the blood off with some sand, that'll sanitise it.”

“Can't I wash it?!” The bandit asked. Erik was silent for a moment before responding.

“Where do you think we are right now?”

“Good point!” Sand Hawk said before leaving to clean the blade. The bandit returned after a minute or two, carrying the now clean surgical instrument. “Are you sure this will be enough?!”

“At least 75% sure.” Erik replied.

“I… No, I'm not using the scalpel!” 

“What?” 

“I'm too squeamish.” Sand Hawk replied, receiving a dirty look from Erik.

“How is a bandit who throws knives squeamish?” 

“I just am, OK!”

“Fine, I’ll come up with something else.” Erik said, deep in thought. After a few minutes of lying on the cold table, Erik was about to go and find someone else to cut him open when an idea struck him. “Pick up the core.” 

“Uh, OK!” Sand Hawk said, gingerly picking up the object, cautious of the bearded chains. The bandit couldn't help but realise that, despite being inside Emperor Scorpion less than a day ago, there wasn't a drop of blood on the core itself. The psychic started concentrating as lavender wisps of psi began peeling off his body, increasing in frequency as his body took on a violet hue and turned translucent. 

“Now put it where it’ll go in my back.” Erik demanded to the nervous bandit.

“Huh?” 

“Come on, put it in me!” The psychic ordered. Sand Hawk averted his gaze, unable to look at Erik as he rubbed his arm nervously.

“I don't know, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days, it doesn't seem right…” The bandit said, squirming on the spot.

“Why are you like this?” Erik asked dejectedly as he snatched the core out of the bandit’s hands with his telekinesis. Slowly, Erik lowered the object towards his back, conscious to keep the chains out of his phased body. Carefully, Erik placed the object between his back and his lungs, making painstaking effort to ensure it wouldn't sever anything. Satisfied that it wouldn't kill him when he dephased, Erik got to work on the rings, maneuvering each one around his ribs. When each ring looped around his ribcage and out his back, Erik decided that it was in as good a position as it would get and prepared to dephase.

The psychic took a few deep breaths before beginning to rematerialise. Slowly, psi turned into flesh and blood, and a mild sting emerged in Erik’s mind. Slowly, the sting grew into an ache, then sharp pain, before settling on the panicked agony that can only come from part of your body being spontaneously replaced by metal. Erik’s mind didn't know how to register such an alien sensation, sending the psychic into a panic. Erik clamped down on the table with both hands, struggling not too either fly into a panicked frenzy or collapse in pain. 

Not knowing what else to do, Erik gripped one of the barb chains tightly and plunged the blade into his palm. The blood flowed freely, but didn't hit the ground, instead appearing to be absorbed by the blade. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute, the blood stopped flowing and the pain began to subside as the cold metal fused with his flesh. Erik weakly lifted himself from the table, wiping away the cold sweat he didn't realise he was drenched in. The psychic took a few steps before his legs buckled, Sand Hawk barely saving him from face planting.

“How are you feeling?!” Sand Hawk cried anxiously.

“Weak, but alright.” Erik replied as the bandit helped him ease into a chair. 

“I’ll go get some food!”

“I can just summon some.”

“No way, you're too weak, I'll be right back!” Sand Hawk said, already halfway out the door. Erik sat alone for a moment, reflecting on what he had just done, as he realised something. He could feel the chains. Experimentally, Erik tried to move a chain as he would his arm, and the weapon obeyed. The psychic watched in awe as he manipulated the chains, each one no different from a long, metal, prehensile arm. Feeling a sense of grim satisfaction with his work, Erik attempted to dismiss the chains, only to find that he couldn't. 

“Ah, of course, I can't simply dismiss my arms, can I?” He mused, unsure of what to do. His thoughts turned back to Emperor Scorpion, who kept them bound around his torso when not in use. The psychic hesitated for a moment, did he really want to inflict himself with that? 

“Well, it's too late to turn back now.” Erik said as he wrapped the chains around his body. The links fit snugly around him, each one pricking him slightly with their barbs as they adjusted themselves to his body. They didn't hurt now, but the psychic guessed that calling them out would do noticeably more damage. Erik slipped his shirt and cloak back on as Sand Hawk returned, carrying bread for the psychic. 

“My thanks.” Erik said as he gratefully took the food, quickly devouring it.

“So, when do I get to go on air?!” Sand Hawk asked excitedly. 

“As soon as Victor is free, I guess.” Erik said, his mouth full. “He's the one running this operation, I'm just the man on the ground.”

The bandit nodded to himself as the psychic continued to eat.

“You're going to have to work with Bill, by the way.” Erik said casually, hoping the bandit wouldn't overreact.

“The one who shot me?!” 

“That's the one.”

“That's OK!” Sand Hawk said, surprising Erik. “I'm not so petty as to let something like that get in the way of delivering the good news to the people!” 

“That's the spirit.” Erik chuckled.