Every good ending needs an evil villain trailer! Here is ours...with words!
Stop this Askier.Â
The voice came pleading, begging, echoing in Askier's head.
"No." Askier slurred aloud, his tongue and lips numb from the whiskey coursing through his veins.
Is this what you sister would want?
The voice's reply was pleading, soft, gentle, just like his sister's voice.
"This is the only way to save her."Â Askier growled, the vision in his eye sharpening as he blinked, his eyebrows angling down into an angry scowl.
Do you think she will even want to see her brother after you do this?
The voice's reply was harsh, declaring, scolding.
"I'll be dead, so it wont matter. Shut up."Â Askier hissed, bringing the bottle in his right hand to his lips and consuming a mouthful of the warm liquor within.
Do you?
Askier said nothing as he swallowed.
Do you? Do you?
"I said shut up! "Askier rose to his feet, screaming as he threw the bottle across the room. The glass shattered into a thousand, reflective pieces that showered down upon the ground, whiskey dancing among the razor-like edges.Â
Askier was panting as he gazed around.
"She will be alive and that's all that matters!" Askier roared at the voice he had been hearing, a voice only heard inside his head, mimicking his sister's voice. The voice of his nearly drowned conscience.
And what of those in Ul'dah who die?"
"Like Delial said: 'The world may burn for those we love!'" Askier retorted violently, spinning around and looking at the thing before him. His bomb.
The bomb was a large, brass creation. The base of the bomb was five feet in diameter and was a perfect circle. The base was three feet thick and covered in spinning gears and slowly ticking counters. Numerous vials of various liquids rose and fell with each passing moment. Protruding from the base at a ninety degree angle was a thick pedestal. Atop the foot tall pedestal was a complexly attached set of nine rings, each slightly smaller than the one before it it, with the largest being nearly four feet in diameter. These nine rings were spinning rapidly and waves of light were flashing out from a spinning ball of arcane energy that formed the heart of the whirling rings. Each ring was whistling a note as it cut through the air and, together, the nine rings played a soft melody that repeated every six seconds. At the completion of a six second interval, a wave of warm air would gust out and tickle Askier's face, followed by a flash of brilliant light of a random color. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.
The device was slowly drawing arcane energy into itself, increasing its payload each six seconds. The longer the device spun, the more powerful the blast would become.  Askier had toyed with this design of explosive before but had never liked them for one fact: they took time to gather their power. Askier wished he had chosen a more conventional type of magitek bomb to build but reminded himself why he hadn't.
This kind of bomb was virtually unstoppable. If the rings were stopped from spinning, for even a moment, by force, the energy inside would release prematurely. The only way to deactivate the explosive was to disassemble it in a precise and exact way, since Askier had not designed an off switch into the design.
Askier grinned, thinking back on Erik's extravagant ball and the information Siha had let slip that night:
"I don't think anyone in Ul'dah knows much about magitek." she had said so sweetly. Askier smirked darkly as another wave of warmth rushed out from his device, tussling his hair and tickling his bare torso.Â
In the dancing light, the massive collection of cuts and scars that seemed to almost form a tapestry of pain across the left side of his body shimmered in a nightmare rhythm His one good eye was wide in mirth as the device spun.
"Soon it will all be over!" Askier gloated darkly.
"You certainly are a charming merchant, mister."Â Siha's voice sounded behind Askier and he whirled around.Â
But there was no one there. Askier blinked in confusion
"I count you as a dear friend. It is a shame we must be on different sides." Another voice this time. Strong and kind. Erik Mynhier.
Askier spun again, pulling out a knife from the belt around his waist and throwing it. The blade encounter nothing but empty air and hard stone.
Erik had never been there.Â
Askier snarled and flicked his ears. What sounded like footsteps filled his head and he looked at the entrance way to the room. His teeth flashed as his face contorted into a sinister expression.
"Found me, have you?" Askier snarled and turned towards his bomb. His coat lay at the base of the killing machine and Askier strode for it.
"You are a fool!"Â came an all-to-familiar voice, and there was a look of pain as Askier walked forward.
"And you are a traitor, Hound!" Askier replied aloud, his eye dancing around. Again, nothing but light and shadows.
"Let me help you." came a calm, reassuring voice. Kanaria's words.
"I have to do this alone. Â No one else should take the burden."Â Askier muttered, nearing his coat.
"You'll have my dirt sandwich to keep you company!" Askier spun, expecting an attack to his spine as Osric's voice filled his head. But there was no one there, no smiling pugilist for Askier to break physically.
Askier's body started to shake, his nerves pressing down on him as his exhausted brain tried to make sense of what was happening to him. Askier rubbed the palm of his left hand across his bandaged face before touching his left eye, the one covered in a leather patch to hide the red and bloody pupil behind it.Â
"Damn that summoner and her book! My eye-" Askier snarled, turning to grab his coat. But another voice cut him off.
"You have the eyes of a demon, Askier."
Kahn'a's voice.
Askier stood utterly still as his head twitched rapidly and his eye widened. A horrible grin parted his lips. The miqo'te threw back his head and laughed, a horrible, broken sound as his dry throat forced the sound through it.
"A demon?" Askier cackled, leaning over and seizing his coat. He slid one arm into a sleeve and then the other as he whirled to face where he imagined he heard approaching footfalls. He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace a welcome friend.
"No Kahn'a, I am more than a demon. Much more!" the light from his bomb back-lite him and his teeth flashed amongst the shadows of his face as he shouted triumphantly.
"With this device, I am become Bahamut, destroyer of Eorzea! And I have set my sights upon Ul'dah! Face me now champions of Ul'dah, and face your own destruction!"
"The Sage of the Wind Swept Sands"
Episode 4
"How I Learned to Love the Bomb."
Coming May 8th, 2014
8:30 CDT
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