Ochenkov awoke to the mumblings of the old man reading from the scriptures. He would drift in and out of consciousness while bound to the chair, sometimes hearing what was being spoken and other times tuning it out into white noise. What did it matter if he were listening or not when he was trapped in this situation?

The brainwashing was pointless though. Ochenkov had already survived the attempts by the Enian Federation to erase his totemic system of tribal gods and replace them with Saint Ishiyama; what made Mazarrat and Zolraq's efforts any different?

The general swirled saliva around his mouth in an effort to hydrate it, a technique he had developed for wilderness survival. This didn't feel quite the same as those many times he had been out in the woods. It was a bit more depressing to be doing these things while sitting in the middle of a town. If he could just walk out the door he could have the water he so desperately craved.

A good tactic though on the part of the cult leader. Depriving a man of water could drive him to the edges of his sanity and a broken mind could easily be reshaped into anything desired. But Ochenkov was not an ordinary man. He would not break. He was forming a plan instead, during the brief periods he experienced complete consciousness.

The barbarian would need something momentous to come from nature, a calamity, a great storm. He had been praying to every spirit he could think of to help bring him this event, but there had been nothing over the last couple of days. In one moment of weakness he had begged Mazarrat for assistance but had quickly silenced his mind and had hoped his prayer had not been heard by such a dark being.

It had come time though for Ochenkov to make the next move and to push the coming storm into existence through his own mental being. He would need his spirit though, and a lot of it. So much that he would be killing himself and reviving, pushing to the edge of death before reeling his mind back. It would be difficult, something he had not done for many years and for good reason. It was a capacity he had locked away within himself, in order to save both his body and the surrounding world. It was why he had been tracked down and found by the Federation, why he had been built a Goliath, and why he had been made into a general. It was time.

Ochenkov closed his eyes, focusing on the well within himself where his spirit sat. It was as he had been taught when he was trained by the old man, to think of the lake and the calm winds upon it. To open up the dam and release what was within. But Ochenkov had always struggled to release the right amount. He could either open it a bit, letting out enough to make him a better fighter than the average. Or he could unload the flood gates, the power within pouring out and nearly drowning him. He would have to open that now and live with the consequences, if he lived at all.

There was a tremor above as the church was rocked by a growing, howling wind sweeping in from the northern mountains. It carried with it dense clouds that had swelled quickly with dense moisture. For the villagers, this was not immensely unusual in the area. A storm like that could suddenly come up over the mountains in a flash and hit the town with a freak blizzard, and so they had grown accustomed to seeing the appearance of these sorts of clouds. Their response was to move to the church, the steadiest, most secure building in the village.

As the winds increased and the clouds grew more ominous, it was soon decided amongst the people crowding the church that they should all move down into the safety of the basement, which had enough space to contain most of the town, while the stronger males would typically be left above as they were the most likely to survive. With the crowd now filing in, the old man speaking to Ochenkov stopped abruptly, surprised to see all these new visitors. Zolraq approached him and gave a little nod and the old man hustled up to the stairs and reopened his tome, beginning to read a sermon to the people to help them settle and distract them from the storm.

Zolraq bent down in front of Ochenkov, finding the tribesman looked to be asleep. The priest placed his hand under the general's chin to lift up the face and look into it. But the skin he touched was freezing, icy cold, and Zolraq recoiled immediately, looking down at Ochenkov with disgust. A man close to the brink of death so soon? Pathetic. It seemed they would not have another among them. A sad loss, but they happened. His body would make another tribute to the wolves, after it was burned in ceremony for Mazarrat.

The minister left Ochenkov to stand next to the old man and provide a symbol for his people. Outside, the blizzard began, and snow came down in sheets that blanketed the air, eliminating all vision and blinding anyone outside, if they weren't buried. Then hail began to mix in, and sleet. The three combined began to tear away at the homes in the villages, with heavy snow bursting through roofs, hail stones destroying windows and fragile portions of buildings, and sleet wearing down on the timber and stones as the cold water mixed into cracks and froze, expanding and pushing apart whatever it got into

It was the wind that was doing the most damage, hurling any objects it could grab and smashing them into whatever got in its way. Each time a pane was shattered in the church, some of the men would quickly board it up to help settle the nerves of those below, as howling winds would come screeching through the open gap. Ochenkov saw it all from above, his spirit mixed in with the storm, guiding it gently and directing it towards the chapel. He would have to leave soon, and the storm would dissipate. He was growing weaker, losing touch with reality, and would soon become lost in the flow of the life force of the planet. He remember back to when they had first pulled him into the fold of the Federation, how they had whispered to each other how he would surpass Marian. Look at him now. Having to command nature in order to escape a cult.

More townsfolk pressed into the basement, gathering up around Ochenkov until he was absorbed into the masses. They were consumed by the sermon and had forgotten about his existence, captivated by the elderly man at the front. And the metal chain holding the barbarian's hands together was beginning to freeze.

* * * * *

Sigma wrapped his brown cloak tighter to his body. It wasn't much, something he had found blowing in the wind as he flew over a town, and it gave a hood to hide his head and a bit of a cape to disguise him from behind, as well as surround his purple body. It wasn't the greatest disguise but it would keep questions away from those who couldn't see his face. Anyone would assume he was wearing some sort of purple armour or jumpsuit. The scythe was easy to conceal as well, as it looked like a walking stick otherwise.

Travelling on foot wasn't Sigma's favourite, but it would be useful for the moment. He had flown close to the northern lands before landing to avoid suspicions and radar. If he had to he could make a little jump here and there but for the most part it would be a walking journey to the remains of the old base he had been born in.

The android knew the wind was blowing across his metallic skin and looked down at his arm wistfully. Wouldn't it be nice if he could feel it, if it raised Goosebumps and caused him to shudder and be cold, if there could be little hairs blowing in the breeze. But there was nothing. It took severe damage to make him feel anything, and that was only reactions to pain for survival. Otherwise the world was hollow, empty. But maybe, just maybe, if he could find this brother, the world might become a little more vibrant, it might be given a new life. Or perhaps his brother would cower and scream at the sight of Sigma.

That was when the spike happened. Even in the middle of nowhere, Sigma's vision was always plagued with updates and read-outs as he intercepted the invisible waves travelling through the air and his body probed into the surrounding area. There had been a sudden increase in energy nearby, up in the mountains, which seemed to be located in the centre of a swirling storm. Something about the whole thing seemed unnatural though. No blizzard could produce such energy bursts, and Sigma's computer brain was already calculating and searching for matches to such an occurrence.

There was just one match to something that created storms of that magnitude. And Sigma had met him before: General Ochenkov. So he had survived the explosion at the laboratory. Perhaps the tribesman had acquired some information while he had been snooping around the base. Sigma needed that kind of intelligence, if it existed at all. And so Sigma decided to take the risk and flew up into the sky, cloak ruffling in the wind behind him.

* * * * *

Porter stared down the alley at the cluster of pins sitting in the lane. He held his bowling ball calmly, taking in a deep breath and focusing on the upcoming shot. Midway through the game, he was only leading Chase by a few points, regardless of the gutter balls that had been thrown by the popular boy. Porter hadn't bowled his best game yet and neither of them had a strike so far. It would be a total embarrassment to lose to Chase now though, since Chase had rolled the ball a different way every time it had been his turn. And there was something else getting in Porter's way...

"Psych!" Chase yelled as Porter bowled. "You suck!" Porter ground his teeth together as his ball spun to the outside and took out one pin on the edge. Chase howled with laughter at the shot, nearly falling off his chair as he clutched his sides.

"You're not supposed to shout out while I'm taking my turn Chase!"

"But that's no fun. How else are we going to rattle our opponents?"

"I don't know, maybe by bowling really well." Porter angrily grabbed his second ball and bowled as fast as he could before Chase could say another word. A perfect shot, knocking every other pin down for the spare. Porter spun on his heel and brushed past Chase with confidence. "Your go hot shot."

"Ha, prepare to be blown away." Chase attempted to spin a ball on his finger until the heavy object teetered and smashed down onto his toe. Chase bit his lip to hold back the yowl, while Nami giggled next to Raul and Ardwen. A red-faced Chase took his turn, his horrific shot skipping into the lane beside him and falling into the gutter of its new alley. Mr. Toriyama groaned at watching this new team doing such a horrific job. Chase's second shot wasn't much better, hitting a single pin that wobbled until it took down one other. While the popular student did a little fist pump at having knocked down two pins, only to be met with laughs from everyone else watching. It was a new experience for Chase. He had never been laughed at before.

Porter took off from there as his embarrassed opponent finally fell silent for the rest of the match. Eventually Mr. Toriyama simply refused to reveal the score any more as part of a mercy ruling, which only sent Chase into a further depression and Porter into greater elation.

"Right, then Porter will be the captain of the team from now on," Mr. Toriyama said, shaking his head at what he had watched. "I'm going to go back to my room now and run a hot bath and reconsider how I agreed to putting all of you on the team. In the meantime, you're all welcome to go back to your rooms and study for that upcoming test. We have bowling practice after class every weekday and the alley is always open on the weekends so I expect you to come in and practice on your own every day. Our first game isn't until next Thursday, thank Ishiyama, so I'm hoping you all know how to play by then and this isn't all just an extension of your war for Nami. See you all tomorrow." The teacher took his leave then, muttering to himself.

"Rematch tomorrow loser!" Chase rounded on Porter.

"We can have one every day, I don't care," Porter replied. "Being on a team is fun if it means being better than you." Chase growled but stormed off in frustration.

"Oh Porter-kins, I'm so glad you get to be my captain." Nami leaped up onto Porter's side and attached herself, and Porter's boat of joy quickly sunk.

"Stuck on a team...with Nami...for the rest of the year..." he mumbled, his eyes glazing over as he became lost in the nightmarish thoughts of what all this meant. Raul and Ardwen had begun a little bowling match of their own to practice, both of them always serious about improving themselves and becoming better than Porter to impress Nami.

With the assistance of a crowbar, Porter had freed himself from Nami and stumbled down the hall back towards his room, still in a stupor over what he had signed up for. On top of that he still had to think about what he had seen down on earth with that cyborg, what it meant and what it had triggered inside his head. But he wouldn't get a chance to think it through as he was yanked aside and out of the hall, into a broom closet he had passed.

Before Porter could get a word out in surprise, he had been cracked across the face by the soft tip of a black slipper. "That was to clear your mind, young student." Porter shuddered at the voice of his mentor, Mr. Shotuku, and the possible pain that he might receive. "I have news for you."

"Uhm, no disrespect Mr. Shotuku, but wouldn't it be easier to just say this to me in class, or in the hallway or not in a dark tiny room?"

"No!" The whisper of Mr. Shotuku rose yet still remained quiet. "It is extremely important but I fear I can only reveal this to you."

Porter sighed and was again bashed in the face with footwear. "Go ahead then," the student mumbled through swollen lips.

"There was a spike down on Earth of great chi energy, a release unlike anything I have encountered in many years. But it was not one that is new to me. I know who created the event, and it was an old student of mine. I fear they would only do something like this if they were in grave danger."

"But Mr. Shotuku, I have a big test and a bowling match and dance all coming up! I can't just go down to Earth to save your friend on a feeling you had. Maybe there was something wrong with your tea this morning or-"

Porter was pummelled with a barrage of slipper attacks that plastered the teenager against the door. "I am not sending you down there on a whim like that! You don't need to go save them; if they are using that much chi then they don't need help, believe me. I fear that there are a few specific people on Earth who could have also picked up on the spike and will be attracted to it, and so I will need all of you to go and assist my old pupil out of the impending storm that will be arriving there. Thus, you will be rejoining the special training with me, late at night, every day."

"Aww but I was just getting into-"

"No excuses. The training will be extremely secret, so much so that not even Rick will know about it."

"Rick is watching us?!"

The teacher skipped over the question and continued speaking. "Hopefully you will be prepared enough to lead the rest of them but this will be your greatest challenge ever on Earth. For now, you will work until you cannot feel your body anymore and then we will keep on working! You will be pushed to your limits, and the day after the dance, you will be returning to Earth, understood?"

"Yes sir," Porter sighed. "I'll come do my training."

"Excellent. I'll see you tomorrow then."

* * * * *

The blizzard was beginning to calm around the village Ochenkov was trapped in. Almost the entire population of the town was huddled in the basement, enduring the wrath of nature and generally forgetting they had a prisoner in the middle of the room. A captive whose eyes had just snapped open as his mind returned to his body.

Ochenkov tugged a little at the chain that had his hands bound. It had frozen solid and was coated in ice and so it easily shattered under the pressure Ochenkov exerted upon it. The door that led upstairs burst open, and a man dusted with a light covering of snow panted at the top of the stairs. "The storm is over!" he shouted.

"Mazarrat be praised!" Zolraq added and the crowd murmured the same before beginning the rush towards the exit. Ochenkov was swept up in the tide of people, keeping himself low so that his large frame was tougher to recognize amidst the smaller women and children who mostly made up the crowd. It didn't take long before he was up in the main chamber of the church and back at ground level, and he murmured praises to Mazarrat whenever anyone came close as a deterrent.

The general burst out into the sunlight and shielded his eyes from the glare coming off the fresh snow. The town had been torn apart by the passage of the blizzard, as Ochenkov had hoped. Perhaps this would cause the cult to struggle and have to move into an area they were more likely to be found. Maybe they would stay here and rebuild and many of them would perish during the process. What happened to these religious zealots wasn't tremendously important to the barbarian now, he just hoped nobody else fell into the same trap he did.

"He's escaped!" Ochenkov froze in the street when he heard the voice. That had happened much faster than he had guessed it would. Then the pointing began. People started to turn and look and spot him and shout. Gangs were forming. The path in front of him was being cut off, as was the one behind and to his sides. He could charge ahead and try to force his way through the cluster in front of him but his exertion of spirit before had worn down on him, and his body was beginning to cry out in exhaustion. Where to now then?

Ochenkov tore to the left, running towards the nearest building and grabbing onto the lowest hanging portion of the roof. What would normally be slippery and icy was familiar to his tribal hands as he gripped the edge with confidence, hauling himself up onto the roof. Around him, the villagers were beginning to arrive and surround the home the escapee had climbed onto. Some were attempting to scale the slippery building, while others began finding objects they could hurl.

The barbarian wouldn't give them a chance to catch him though as he took off across the rooftop, leaping onto the next house and scrabbling to maintain his footing. A rock glanced off his shoulder and he winced in pain but did not stop, backing away from any edges to dodge more ballistics. Some more forward-thinking citizens of the town had gone and grabbed ropes and ladders so that they could catch up to the general. Others were scaling easier, less slippery buildings and were closing in on Ochenkov.

"We no longer need him alive!" Zolraq yelled out from down below on the road. "Mazarrat punished us with the storm for keeping him among us. We shall purge ourselves from the evil outsider!" The cultists were spurred on by their leader's words and clambered up the sides of the homes with greater resolve.

Ochenkov thought of new ways to escape the town but his options were running thin, and his body was starting to shut down. Without his spirit, he could not function physically, and would need a long period of rest to get back to normal, a period he didn't seem to have a chance of getting.

There was a shriek through the air, an inhuman one that was caused by something passing through the area at an incredible speed. Ochenkov thought of different Goliaths or fighter jets coming in, having picked up on the storm he had created. Hopefully they would be from the Enian Federation and not any enemies coming by, though Ochenkov considered the Enian Federation to be an enemy as well at this point, or at least an untrustworthy ally.

But it was not a battle suit that touched down in front of the general. It wasn't some form of ship or fighter craft. It was a person. Or at least it had been. A purple, metallic, android kind of person.

"Hello General Ochenkov," Sigma said, a wicked smile spreading on his face. "Remember me?"

A/N: Porter is finally better at something than anyone else (well aside from the whole Goliath thing)! Can he keep the good times rolling, even with the dance and a test looming? And now it's Sigma vs Ochenkov part 2?! What's going on?