Chapter 3: No Pain, No Gain
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	The daggers led as Alaric leapt at an Imperial soldier.
He held both knives blade-down, sweeping them into a semicircular
arc a moment before contact.  The black-and-silver blades sliced
neatly through metal, cloth, and flesh, and Alaric landed lightly
on his feet, scanning the area for the next target.
	That had been the twenty-seventh soldier he'd crossed
blades with, if he hadn't lost count.  The third he'd
killed.  His newfound partner Leon had fought fewer, but
killed more.  Efficient, that one... but Alaric had lost
sight of him some time ago...
	To think he'd considered the paired dirks a foolish
investment.  True, a thousand gold each was a lot to ask, but
their polished silver blades and black hilts had intrigued him.
And they were built to aid in defense, he thought, parrying a
blow that would have severed his head if it had connected.  He
dropped, spun, and lashed out at the soldier with a kick.  As he'd
come to expect, the multicolored Zephyr Cape he wore did not
interfere with the maneuver.
	*CRACK*
	Alaric learned never to kick an armored opponent.  That
_hurt_!  And he couldn't afford to lose his mobility now...
He continued the motion, rolling aside, vaguely noticing his
cloak shifting from a predominantly red-and-black color scheme
to mostly green and brown--the better to camouflage him as he
moved along the ground, leaving his enemy to face a Thamasan
who'd moved into position.  He might only carry a staff, but somehow
Alaric didn't doubt that he was a better fighter than the Imperial
trooper.  And much better than Alaric himself.
	He took advantage of the momentary pause to scan the
area.  He didn't see Leon anywhere.  But he did see dozens
of Thamasans down... Light, all dead?  Leon had been among
one group of such.  He'd been wounded, too... either he
wasn't as good as Alaric at defense, or he was fighting more
skilled opponents than Alaric.  Probably both.
	Alaric was about to search out Leon to offer aid,
but the action was interrupted...
	*Chung Chung*
	*VREEEEEEEEP*
	The force of the MagiTek Bolt Beam threw Alaric through
the air.  He landed rather uncomfortably against a wall, taking
what cover he could find--behind a pair of barrels.
	*VREEEEEEEEP*
	Make that a pair of ash piles.  Time to move...
	He threw himself aside just in time to avoid a second
Fire Beam blast, rolling to his feet with the practiced ease of
an accomplished acrobat.  Thankful now for the long hours of
tedious training he'd undergone, he ran forward three steps,
ignoring the pain from his injured foot.  Had he broken something
when he'd landed that kick?  No time to worry about that now.
	He jumped into the air, aiming for the Armor's pilot.
Unfortunately, the pilot had turned to face him.  A massive
MagiTek arm swung upward.
	In mid-air, he couldn't dodge.  The blow connected solidly,
and it was probably only the minimal protection offered by his
cape that kept him alive.  But the blow had also kocked him upward;
he couldn't possibly hit the pilot.  Could he?
	Nothing to lose now...
	He stabbed downwards with the matched Guardians, hearing
a scrape of metal on metal.  Then the blades caught on something...
	Part of the armor came loose with a squeal.  Alaric landed
heavily on the ground, staring blankly at the object in his hands
for a moment, until he recognized it.
	A Magitek core pack.  No, half a Magitek core pack.  Which
was beginning to glow, leaking energy.  It looked like it might...
	He threw it as hard as he could, and half-staggered, half-fell
away from the Armor.
	*BWHOOM!*
	The concussion threw him forward to the ground.  The last
thing he saw before his impact was the breastplate of a fallen
Imperial trooper.  Then his head struck it.
	The steel was cold and unyielding.  Alaric drifted into
unconsciousness.