Orochi watched the everyday life of his avatar with a certain amount of amusement.  He and his friends first met to create a band, but they had been manipulated into their current situation long ago.  There was no point in leaving things to chance, after all.

    Creating musicians that carried his blood had been a challenge, but he had molded these children carefully.  For some bizarre reason, most of the eight heavenly warriors of his line were born into the same generation.  Two had been born into the previous generation, and they had long ago been maneuvered into a useful position.  Orochi had kept a careful eye on the eight warriors; one was dead, and six of the remaining were the only full-blooded children at the present; that was unacceptable.  To put it bluntly, he needed more breeding stock.

    He considered the "fullbloods" he had available.  There were three remaining females:  Vice and Mature, with their twin powers, and Shermie, who was not yet awakened.  The one heavenly warrior not of "full blood", Leona, would also do.   The power she gained as one of the Eight made up for her poorer breeding.  Orochi sighed inwardly.  Obviously his blood would have to be diluted still further to prevent the horrors brought on by inbreeding.  As for males, since the wind master Goenitz had been mortally wounded in the 1996 King of Fighters Tournament, he still had Chris, Yashiro, and the gangster Ryuji Yamazaki.

  What about Iori Yagami?  He's incredibly strong for a mongrel.  A thought suddenly came to the deity, and he smiled unpleasantly. Iori and Chris have the same powers...and the same desire.  I do need to plan ahead for my avatar in the next generation...because I can't afford to be trapped by the Mirror again.  I think Shermie is decisively the Mother I need...her potential power is unique, and very great.  What I need is a contest to determine the strongest of my men.

  If he had been a mortal, he would have laughed.  Instead, he simply smiled and enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment.  It's perfect.  There are only five contestants in the game...and who could resist that prize?

  With a smugness that approached outright gloating, Orochi retreated to the no-place where he customarily went to concentrate.  This would take a fair amount of planning...but it was by no means impossible.
 
 
 

  Chris sat bolt-upright in his bed, breathing hard.  He clutched at the medallion around his neck, then swore and dropped it, struggling to take it off: it was burning hot against his skin.  The clasp wouldn't open, however, and the chain was too short to pull over his head.  Finally, he wrapped a corner of his sheet around the pendant to protect his skin.

  What in the world is happening?  I've been having terrible nightmares, and this thing...He could still feel the heat the medallion gave off through the thin sheet.  Why is it hot?  I guess it really is some sort of "mystical artifact"!  But what do I do with it now?

  Almost as if in answer to his unspoken question, the medallion flashed brightly, then started to cool.  Chris cautiously removed the sheet and looked at the round pendant.  It still looked the same as when he had bought it.  What sort of cursed thing is this?

    The boy restrained the urge to roll out of bed and go to Shermie's room.  It was almost three in the morning, and she would definitely be asleep.  Since she was a light sleeper, he would probably wake her up if he tried to sneak in with her.  He needed some peace of mind, though, after the dream he had had...

    The landscape was flat, and featureless, like some immense tabletop or gameboard.  Chris played the dual role of a dreamer, both caught up in the dream and detached from it.  Looking around with two pairs of eyes, he saw other figures on the board:  Yashiro, that red-haired man Shermie had spoken to at the Belt, and a very massively built man, taller even than Yashiro.  They all stood shoulder to shoulder in a line, facing a large stone altar that seemed to have suddenly appeared from nowhere.

    As he saw what was on that altar, Chris' heart sank.  It was Shermie, clad in flimsy, sheer white fabric and tied and bound to a tall pillar like a sacrifice.  He tried to call out to her, but the air around him swallowed his voice.  As he tried to step forward, his muscles locked, and he couldn't move an inch.  When a shimmering form materialized on the altar near Shermie, his mind shrieked in panicked, subconscious recognition, and he made one more heroic effort to break free of whatever spell held him, but to no avail.  Helplessly, he watched as the glowing figure coalesced into a man of medium height and strong build, with a mane of silvery hair and a giant design tattooed on his upper torso...the same design on Chris' medallion.

  Who is that?! his mind shrieked, but somehow he already knew.  And as the man reached out to touch Shermie, even as Chris' muscles tensed in anxiety and anger, he knew that he would not, could not fight this man.  Instead, he would have to fight the others standing with him.  As his subconscious came to terms with this, something strange happened inside of him.  He looked down at his  right hand, and saw it engulfed in blue flames.  His mind seemed to shift somehow, shunting his dislike for violence aside, and a sudden bloodlust filled his senses.  He would kill to get Shermie back, kill with this ghastly blue fire...

    He looked up at the red-haired man, who held similar purple flames.  The man's lips curled back in a feral snarl, and he was suddenly enveloped in his purple fire.  "Come then!" he roared at Chris, his eyes insane.  "I will drink your blood!"

    Chris couldn't resist his urge to fight any longer.  "Then so be it!"  Mentally summoning his new power, he bared his teeth and leaped at the other man.  Flames met flames and Shermie shrieked, but not at their fight.  Chris couldn't turn his attention toward her, though, as he felt the icy burn of the purple fire on his skin.  It ran up his shirt, hungrily seeking his flesh, and he screamed and screamed, in pain, frustration and despair...

    Shivering, Chris pulled his mind forcefully away from the dream.  It would take horse tranquilizer to put him back to sleep at this point.  Sighing, he tried to think of more pleasant things as he closed his eyes.
 
 
 

    Shermie gasped loudly, suddenly waking from a nightmare that was already quickly draining out of her memory.  Breathing deeply, she tried to remember what had scared her so.

    She was bound and chained to some sort of stone, and she wore thin, almost gauzy, white silk.  There seemed to be no immediate danger, but something ominous hovered in the misty darkness around her.

    There was a small point of light approaching slowly through the  mist.  It flickered, a blue flame growing steadily larger.  Soon, she saw a figure bearing the flames in his palms.  With a keen shock, she realized that it was her Chris, but with a ghastly power and insane eyes.  He slowly approached her, a sinister grin on his face, and soon he stood before her and raised his hands over his head, joining the two flames into one.

    Shermie couldn't speak for some reason, but somehow she demanded of him, "Who are you--what are you--what do you want?!"

    Chris gave a chilling laugh, as he started to grow.  He reached Shermie's height, and surpassed it.  His face blurred into adult features, but his beautiful deep blue eyes remained unchanged.  Most startling, however, was the gradual change of the boy's soft brown hair to silver.  Shermie just stared in horrified fascination.

    During the sudden transformation, Chris' shirt had stretched and tore, leaving him bare-chested.  Across his chest was drawn a large, weird symbol that Shermie recognized as the design on that silver medallion.  And where was it now?  Had it broken and fallen off?  Maybe it was absorbed...maybe it triggered the change...!

    While she stared at him, bemused, the strange man reached out and cupped her chin with one strong hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.  Helplessly, she stared like a rabbit in headlights, flinching when the man--she couldn't think of him as Chris anymore--placed his other hand on her arm.

    "You are honored above all others," he said in an oddly choral, rather high-pitched tenor voice--or was it a feminine low alto?  Shermie continued to stare speechlessly.  "From your blood," the man continued, "will come My next avatar.  You shall be honored as the Great Mother."

    Suddenly even more confused, Shermie struggled to speak.  "Next avatar...?  Who...who are you?"

    "It has been too long," the man said with a sigh.  "How shameful it is, that you do not recognize your God--and your Father."

    "F--father?!"  The world had ceased to make any kind of sense.

    "Of course," he said with an amused expression.  "Your ultimate Father.  My blood has reached down for a thousand years into ones such as you.  Where do you think your power comes from?"  He saw her confused expression and laughed.  "You don't even know about that?  Well, I can't tell you.  You must find it yourself."  Looking up at the blank sky, he sighed.  "But I digress.  You must be prepared for this great task I will lay upon you, this bearing of the next avatar."

    "But..I...how can you make me do this?  I don't want to bear a child!" Shermie finally voiced her protest.

    Instead of growing angry, the man only laughed.  "I am your God!  Do you think you can so lightly disobey me?"

    "Disobey you?  I don't even know who you are!"

    In response, the man turned his head and looked directly into Shermie's eyes.  She cried out in pain, but she couldn't look away.  His gaze burned into her mind somehow, and suddenly, things that had been locked away in the depths of her subconscious came to the surface, painfully.  Bound as she was, the only thing that kept her from falling to her knees were the cuffs around her wrists.  After what seemed an eternity, the man--no, the god--let her look away.

    "Now," he said in a gentler voice, "who am I?"

    Shermie closed her eyes, wanting to melt into the ground, or dissolve.  Her mind couldn't handle what had just happened.  Sighing in an odd feeling of defeat, she said the name in little more than a whisper.

    "Orochi...you are the god Orochi..."

    "Yes...and I am your god, beloved..." he slowly came even closer to her, pressing his body against hers.  Frightened as she was, she could not summon her will to fight him.  It would be so easy to give in to his wishes...easy, and her duty, as a faithful daughter and worshipper...He would not hurt her, so whatever he wanted from her could not be that bad...Her control over her mind and her inhibitions slowly crumbled, and by the time Orochi kissed her lips, she had come to the decision that putting herself into the hands of her god was a beautiful act.

    Orochi's lips were pressed against her neck, but Shermie still heard his voice, lightly taunting.  "So then, my beloved...how strong is your faith...?"

    "My Lord...?"  Shermie opened her eyes.  Orochi tightened his arms around her for a moment, and then his body began to slowly stretch.  As she realized what he was becoming, Shermie gave a horrified shriek.  Her god was now a large serpent coiled around her body, with scales the color of polished hematite, and a pattern of dark red and black down his back.  Afraid of snakes as she was, the girl began to feel faint as the serpent slithered around her lovingly.  As her mind flickered towards wakefulness, Shermie felt one last scaly caress, and heard Orochi's whisper.

    "You will be honored above all others..."

    Shuddering violently, the girl rose out of bed, wrapping herself in her silk robe.  Chris slept like a rock, and he wouldn't notice if she snuck into bed with him.  Anyway, if he did notice, he wouldn't mind very much.  She smiled to herself briefly, then quietly slipped into Chris' room.

    He was awake, and he sat up as she closed the door behind her.  "Shermie...?!"  His voice held a strange note of alarm.

    "Yes...I had a bad dream, honey, and I can't get to sleep..." she made her way over to the bed, kneeling at the bedside and resting her elbows on the bed.

    "You too...?"

    Shermie looked at the boy in surprise.  "Is that why you're awake?  Wow...that's weird...you were in my dream, too..."

    "Really?  You were in mine, too..."

    "This is just too strange, honey..."  Shermie proceeded to describe her dream to Chris, who stared at her when she finished.  "What?  Did you have the same dream?"

    "No, but it was in the same place...at the same time."  Chris related his story to her, feeling more and more uncomfortable.  "I can see a correspondence here," he concluded, "...and I don't like it..."

    "Oh...?"  By this point, Shermie had slipped into the bed, and the two of them lay side by side, seeing the concern and fear in each others' eyes.

    "Orochi..." Chris said the name with a strange tone, "Orochi wants to use you to make his next avatar.  I think he's going to make the five of us males fight for...er..." he blushed.

    "For me--the spoils?" the girl said with a wry smile.  "You're probably right..." she shivered.

    Chris closed his eyes.  "Yes--but that's not all...he said his next avatar, which means he already has one right now."

    "You mean...you?"  Shermie drew back a little.

    The boy nodded miserably.  "That's what this thing is!"  He cupped the medallion around his neck.  "It's how he got to me, and I can't take it off!"

    "Then...this is all...real..."  Suddenly Shermie clung to him fiercely.  "Oh, Chris...I'm really, honestly frightened now..."

    "I know...so am I..."  He found himself in the odd role of the protector, and held her tightly.  "I'm not going to let anyone take you, Shermie, I promise..."  Ignoring his stronger urges, he kissed her gently and held her close until she relaxed and fell back into a peaceful sleep.  It took him much longer to reach unconsciousness.