Chapter 3: Enemies

Wolfen let out a shout of surprise and stepped back from the man, who, he realized, was very much real. Suddenly several men materialized out of the darkness, running towards him. All the men wore the same long-sleeved, one-piece gray outfit. They also all wore turbans, gloves, and boots. Each man was armed with a strange, curved sword, but only the first man, who remained standing in the place Wolfen first saw him, had the twisted blade. In addition he wore a strange decoration that encircled him from the waist to the shoulder. His eyes were gazing directly into Wolfen's, seeming to hold him with their will.

One of the men charged Wolfen directly, but his eyes were so focused on the obvious leader that he failed to notice. The man was right on top of him when a fist came flying from behind Wolfen and smashed into the attacker's face. The sound of the hit seemed to wake Wolfen up, and he jumped back just in time to avoid a swung blade.

"What are you standing around for, Fallion!?" Ambrose shouted at him. Apparently Wolfen's shout had been enough to arouse him, and already the man was wide-awake and moving with a speed Wolfen wouldn't have thought possible for him. Before he could reply, Ambrose stepped towards another attacker, crouched under the swung blade, and delivered a strong left-handed punch at the man's armpit. The attacker reeled from the blow, and was brought down by Ambrose's right fist. As he grabbed the dropped sword, he turned his head back to Wolfen, "Would you do something!?"

Wolfen took a step back, looking around him. Suddenly the shock of seeing other people in this world, much less being attacked by them, vanished. His mind returned to his training; he had never been in a true fight, but he had always done well in the courses. Two men charged him at once. He stood still, waiting, then just as they raised their weapons to swing he dove forward, rolling between the two of them. As he passed he grabbed the weapon dropped by the first man Ambrose had downed and, as he rose back up, slashed both men in the back of the knees. He didn't want to kill them. He had seen to much death lately.

As the two men fell down, he turned about and looked for the next attacker. A man appeared out of the darkness, sword drawn. Using his newly acquired blade he deflected a stabbing blow and kicked out, hitting the man in the gut. Even as the man doubled forward, two more came out of the darkness. Stepping around the man he was standing over, Wolfen parried another swing, then dodged backwards to avoid the second man's stab. As he blocked the first man's second attack he shoved the hunched-over man into his second attacker, knocking both of them down. He parried a third attack and punched, knocking the man unconscious.

"Wolfen, the stupid Doctor!" Ambrose shouted from somewhere beyond his vision. Wolfen jerked around and saw three figures approaching the still-unconscious form of Dios. He gave a battle cry and started to move forward, and suddenly found himself on his stomach. He struggled to get up, then realized his weapon was gone. He jerked himself up and spun about to face whoever had tripped him and met the gaze of the decorated man; the leader.

The man stood just before Wolfen, his twisted blade at his throat. Wolfen stood perfectly still, staring into the man's eyes. He was startled to see that they were a strange, orange color. They were actually glowing slightly. Wolfen studied them silently, lost in that strange hue.

Suddenly there was something pressed against Wolfen's back, and he came out of his reverie. He realized that the sounds of fighting were gone, and glancing around he saw Ambrose lying on the ground, blood dripping lightly from the back of his dark, bald head. He wondered if Dios was still dead to the world, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

At this point Wolfen noticed that some of the men were carrying weapons that weren't swords - they actually possessed guns. He then understood that it was one of these strange, double-barreled contraptions pressing against his back. Slowly, he raised his hands in defeat, casting his gaze back on the leader.

The leader took a step back, still studying him with those eyes. "So you speak English, do you?" the figure asked. He had a high tuned, feminine voice. "It is a wonder to find you, Starwalker."

"The name's Fallion." Wolfen retorted heatedly, "Wolfen Fallion." He suddenly felt a burst of pain in his gut were one of the men had punched him. He fell to his knees, gasping. "You will address me when I allow it." The man said coldly. He knelt down so he could be at face level with Wolfen. "You fight well. It's a good thing I brought a large force. You and the old geezer did more damage than most rebels could claim."

Wolfen took another glance towards Ambrose. The leader, seeing the concern on his face, got up and walked over to Ambrose. He knelt over the body and examined it for a moment, then rose and walked back over to Wolfen. "Don't worry, the nigger will live. That is, as long as all three of you cooperate."

Wolfen, feeling a sudden hatred for this man, leapt at him angrily. Nigger!? He hated that word, and so did Ambrose! He wouldn't let this man, whoever he was… He fell to the ground again, the back of his head filled with searing pain. He got on his hands and knees and started to stand, but then felt the man's boot on his back. "Well, it appears we have a wild one, here. We may have to discipline the little guy a bit before he goes to see the Lord."

Wolfen gritted his teeth, waiting for a kick, a gunshot, anything. He didn't know what to expect from these people. Who were they? Why were they doing this? He felt pressure on his back, forcing him down to the ground on his stomach. He closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, waiting.

Suddenly, once again, all Hell broke loose. There were shouts and gunshots, and he felt the boot lift off his back. From his vantage point on the ground he couldn't see anything beyond rushing feet. The air was filled with shouting; he could hear people taking blows from fists, swords being unsheathed. He leaped up and looked around him. He was tired, hurting, and angry.

A turbaned man came running by, shouting at something. Wolfen caught him by the back of his neck and slammed the man down into the ground. He scanned the area for the leader, but the orange-eyed man was no-where in sight. He spun about and came face-to-face with another turbaned man, this one with a gun. He reacted quickly and struck the guy in the face with enough force to send him sprawling. The gun in the man's hand went off, and there was a scream. Wolfen jerked about and was horrified to realize that Ambrose had been shot. The man, wakened by the pain, was lying on his side and gripping his bleeding leg agonizingly.

His mind in a panicked rush, he ran towards Ambrose. He knelt down beside the man and tried to get a good look at his leg. "What the Hell are you doing, Fallion!?" Ambrose growled through gritted teeth, "Fight, dammit! Get them before they get you!" As if to emphasize this point, a turbaned man appeared right in front of them brandishing a sword. Wolfen jumped forward and caught the man's sword arm before it could swing, and delivered a powerful palm-strike to the man's chest that flung him on his back.

Wolfen looked about himself at the action, trying to understand what was going on. He noticed that now there was a new group fighting the turban-men. These people weren't specially adorned; they were ragged, most in ripped pants and muck-covered shirts. They were loosing to the turban-men, too. As he watched, one of the turban-men brought down two of them with a single, quick slash of his blade.

There was a shout behind him, and Wolfen jerked about to find Ambrose missing. Glancing about into the fray, he suddenly saw him being dragged by his shoulders. With a cry, Wolfen charged Ambrose's two abductors; a male and a female, both in the dirty drab of the newcomers.

The two didn't notice him until he was practically on top of them. Before he could attack, however, three turban-men blocked his path. The three weren't after him, though; they wanted the two abductors. Reacting quickly, Wolfen grabbed the nearest turban-man and held him in a sleeper-hold. The man struggled against him for a moment, then flipped Wolfen forward. The move completely caught him off-guard, and he found himself staring up into the angry eyes of the man.

Wolfen quickly rolled sideways, just barely avoiding the man's blade as it dug into the black ground. As he stood, he rammed into the man bodily with all his strength. The man fell backwards, and Wolfen quickly kicked the man right on the chin. This was enough to keep him down.

Having dealt with that turban-man, Wolfen turned about and saw, happily, that Ambrose was free. The male abductor was struggling with one of the turban-men, wrestling with the man in the dirt. Wolfen stepped up to Ambrose and was about to try and drag him away from the fray when he heard a shout ahead. Looking up, he saw the female lying on her back, a turban-man on top of her. His hands were wrapped tightly around her neck, and she was struggling vainly to get him off.

Wolfen stared at the scene for a moment. His choice seemed obvious: grab Ambrose and get out of there. But something kept him from doing so. He watched as the woman struggled, but the turban-man was too strong for her. Wolfen glanced down at Ambrose, who was unconscious again, then looked up at the woman fighting for her life. He made up his mind and stood. He wasn't going to let people die, not if he could do something to stop it.

Wolfen ran up to the two and, using his momentum for extra power, kicked the turban-man in the head. The man rolled to the side and off the woman, who gripped her neck and gasped for air. The turban-man slowly stood up, wobbling as if the blow had struck him dizzy. Wolfen took the opportunity to punch him, and he fell to the ground, holding his head and shouting painfully. Wolfen turned about and saw the woman getting up. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was friend or foe.

Suddenly the young man, apparently victorious, appeared between them. He looked to Wolfen, worry covering his face. "If you want you and your friend to get out of here alive, you'll help us!" He shouted, and ran over to Ambrose's limp body. Wolfen stared at the man as he tried to lift the Commander by the shoulders. Should he help, or should he not? For a brief moment he could think only of this question, forgetting that time was of the essence. Suddenly the woman pulled out a small pistol and fired. Wolfen heard the bullet buzz past his face, and there was a scream. He spun about just in time to see the turban-man he had just beaten fall to the ground, dead. That settled it for him: help.

He rushed over and grabbed Ambrose's legs, lifting the Commander up bodily. He and the man then moved as quickly as they could away from the fight, the woman and several others holding off the turban-men as they ran. Before long the sound of the fighting was gone, and it was just Wolfen and the man, carrying Ambrose and running quietly through the darkness.