A stoplight was in front of him. It seemed stuck at red. Ben irritable shifted the car into park and waited. And waited. And WAITED. Ben didn't know why, but it was the first time he'd ever seen such a stubborn a stoplight and it was really getting on his nerves.

He tried all sorts of slightly illegal tricks, like flashing the highbeams at the sensor, backing up and moving forward, and he even flicked his turn signals.

Nothing.

The red light seemed to stare back at him as if mocking him, laughing at his efforts to get beyond it, outright defying his every trick. He couldn't legally get past it without a lot of detouring, and illegally crossing it might get him in a lot of trouble or cause a lot of pain.

He wanted to cross it NOW.

There had to be a trick, a clue, SOMETHING that would let him past this infernal light.

Even though he felt like it was the first time he'd ever seen such a stubborn stoplight, he felt like he'd been here before. He glanced left and right and various intersections seemed to appear, but they faded away like the morning fog.

This light. This blasted light. He'd been here before. He'd tried to cross this intersection, but he could never get through.

There was something important on the other side, something he wanted greatly, but the light was keeping him from it.

Pedestrians seemed to flow past his vehicle, like the water of a river rushing past a rock.

Wait, if pedestrians seemed to get past the light with no problem, did that mean he had to abandon his vehicle?

He stared at the light. In all the times he'd faced it, he couldn't remember a time he'd ever tried walking past it.

Maybe this time, he should.

He reached down to unbutton his safety belt, but found that it was missing. He frowned, but unlocked the door and opened the door...

Ben coughed as he woke up, feeling as though he'd just run a marathon and ended it by running headlong into a wooden door. He ached all over, but the memory of being a pincushion surfaced before he could ask the stupid question "What happened?"

As he sat up, he noticed that it was early morning and everyone else was asleep. He would have chastised everyone for not leaving a guard awake to defend them, but then, he felt something. It was like a strange pressure on the back of his head, but as he turned his head, the pressure seemed to be coming from the same direction, rather than something on his head. He turned to face it and wound up staring at a woman who'd been standing in the same direction as the pressure.

"So, you're finally awake." she commented.

"You've been watching me the entire night?" Ben inquired, wary of this newcomer.

She was tall and had straight black hair that seemed to fuse with her black robes. Her penetrating red eyes told him that this woman was not even concerned about his companions, but she didn't seem like she would attack.

"Who are you?" Ben inquired.

"You'll find me in this direction in about half a day. We'll talk then. By the way, you should probably wake up for real." she responded.

Ben burst awake in cold sweat. He looked around and found it was about early morning, but Kagome was awake and sitting on the opposite side of a dead campfire. They'd stripped him down to his skivvies, no doubt to make sure he hadn't been injured someplace they might have missed. Well, that or they just liked seeing him sans a shirt. He wondered briefly about that woman and how he could've woken up twice, but focused his attention on Kagome as she noticed his movements.

"You're awake. We were a bit worried when you passed out." Kagome said, standing up and walking around to him, "Are you feeling any better?"

He was still sore all over, but except for large gash on his back where the Waspqueen had poisoned him, it didn't feel that bad, though the sweat was making some of his wounds sting, "All things considered, I could be doing worse."

"Rebecca found some herbs last night that helped quicken your recovery, but we still weren't sure how long you might be out." Kagome told him, taking a nearby rag and dabbing at the sweat on his body.

She didn't say anything else, but the sad look on her face told him that she wanted to say something, which was a clear enough sign that he should at least prompt her, "Something wrong?"

She stopped dabbing at his sweat and her eyes teared up. She hugged him, which made some of his wounds sting. He didn't make a noise, but she apparently felt his instinctive wince and pulled away, "I'm... I'm sorry. I just needed..."

"It's okay, Kagome." Ben answered. It felt strange, but he didn't feel like snapping at her for doing something so obviously stupid.

Her voice was trembling as she struggled to make words, her voice rising in pitch with each sentence as she desperately fought to keep from sobbing, "....when Rebecca.. said that you'd been... p-poisoned, I-i..."

Though it hurt, Ben pulled her close. She'd been worried. Part of him couldn't believe that she'd been THAT worried, considering that they were just about at each other's throats the other day.

"I'm sorry..." Kagome whimpered.

"For what? I should apologize. I was being an ass to you yesterday." Ben responded, feeling a stinging truth in those words.

"If-if it weren't-" Kagome hiccuped, "-fer your clothes-" *hiccup* "-you might've..."

Kagome broke down crying again.

Somehow, being right was both satisfying and sickening. He was happy in a snide way that she'd conceded to his point that the clothes could be made into bandages, but he was sickened by the fact that any part of him was even concerned about that when Kagome was feeling miserable.

Breakfast came and passed too soon with Ben feeling pathetic about not being able to forage with Honey. Honey still found enough for everyone to eat, but Ben still felt miserable nonetheless.

Once the meal was finished, Ben suggested the direction that he remembered from his dream. He, of course, decided not to tell the others about the wacky dream, just in case it _was_ just a dream. Besides, any direction was probably just as good or bad as the next, there was a chance that the woman from his dream did exist and wasn't part of a trap.

By late afternoon, the forest gave way to an empty clearing and the group stopped to rest. Ben, however, felt something was wrong about the clearing. It wasn't a malevolent wrong, like the mansion had exuded, but rather the sort of wrong one felt when they saw something that didn't make sense.

The pressure Ben had felt in his dream was stronger than ever and he was feeling it directly in front of him, but he couldn't see anything in the clearing.

If the woman was here, she was probably hidden and very likely by some sort of illusion. Illusions could be some of the most impressive feats in the world, the best of which could make people walk around an obstacle without actually realizing that they WERE walking around something, see, smell, taste, touch and hear things that didn't exist. Most people, when they thought of illusions, thought of them as they would a holographic projection. Something that could be dispelled just by walking through them, but being a writer, Ben knew that such thoughts were likely just misplaced as the thought that a fireball couldn't hurt a fire-elemental. The flames could heal the elemental, but the explosion, something that was more of a physical and/or sonic force rather than a part of the element of fire, would still deal damage.

If the woman truly intended to talk with him, there had to be a way of defeating the illusion.

He closed his eyes. The first type of illusion tricked the eyes, so blocking his vision would help his brain filter out the mistaken cues.

He tuned out noises. It was difficult do so, as the ears didn't simply 'close' like the eyes did, but having tuned out dull people, he found himself able to block them as well.

He folded his arms to limit the number of false sensations and began to take deep breaths through his mouth instead of his nose. That allowed him to tune out touch, smell and taste.

Now, he just had to focus. To see with the mind's eye.

To realize that he didn't need to block out that much when he could've just asked if she was there, "Hello?"

"Yes?" came the voice of the woman, just before he opened his eyes again.

This time, he didn't see a clearing in the forest. They were well outside of the forest, in a stony depression where raised wooden houses towered a good twenty feet off the ground. Kagome, Rebecca, Vesta and Honey saw on a nearby circle of rocks, talking and chatting as they had in the illusionary clearing.

The woman he'd talked to in his dreams stood in front of him. He glared at her, "You know, you could have just said 'hello'. You did call me here, after all."

"True, but if you couldn't perceive this place, there was no point in bringing you any further." she answered.

"The illusion is still up, I take it?" Ben inquired, motioning to them.

"Yes, but for them, it's a wonderful day and you've just told them you're taking a walk. They won't hear anything further." she answered.

The quartet suddenly leapt up and raced away, and Ben turned to face her, a razor edge to his gaze that promised pain if she lied, "Now, what are they seeing?"

"You dying," she answered, as yet another layer of the illusion faded to reveal the silver-haired woman from the mansion in place of the woman he'd seen in his dreams, "Which will be true enough soon."

[DAMMIT! I was such an idiot!] he thought as he leapt away, but not quick enough to avoid her blade digging through his bandages and into his right arm. A fountain of blood spraying from the wound decided to inform him that she'd just cut into the artery. Luckily, the bandages were still in good enough shape to close the wound.

"Pretty extensive setup just to kill us." Ben growled, yanking the bandage off his left forearm. He quickly tied a makeshift patch over the injured area, just in case the bandages needed to be held together.

She didn't sneer or laugh, but rather, looked at him evenly, "Don't misunderstand. I respect how well you fought against that Waspqueen, and I truly am impressed that you've become spiritually awakened with any formal training... however, you won't willing join me, which is why I have to take certain actions."

He felt a knife press against his throat, no doubt one of her allies, as she continued, "Don't worry. You'll be able to keep your life and no harm will come to your companions, but only as long as you cooperate."

Ben wrestled over the decision. Now that the illusions were finished, he was finally seeing many more pokegirls scattered around the area. They were waist-deep in enemy territory and against an enemy far more organized than the ones he and Honey had broken up prior, which meant that even if he did manage to free himself and beat the woman in front of him, chances of surviving were low. And if they were able to get the drop on him so easily, chances were the others had knives looming near their necks and they didn't even realize it.

With a heavy sigh, Ben raised his hands in defeat.

He wasn't going to die. That much, he knew. However, sitting in his stone prison, he couldn't help but get the feeling in the pit of his stomach that something incredibly bad was going to happen. Worse yet, it was that quasi-feeling where his brain and his gut argued over the meaning, and it was a fifty-fifty split as to which one was right.

His brain told him that the group simply wanted another soldier to control, and so long as they had bait that he cared about, he wouldn't resist. His gut, on the other hand, told him that he couldn't trust anything with these sorts of groups, since they were already anti-men, and probably anti-human. There was a good chance that one of the others who didn't like the idea their commander had come up with might try to 'spill' something poisonous in his food or drink.

He had to admit that it was fully possible. Even amongst the most devoted of fanatics, there could be descension, which would bode poorly for Ben.

The tan woman with black hair from the mansion appeared in front of his cell, sneering, "Well, well, well. If it isn't the asshole who winded me the other day."

A thousand responses popped into his brain, but he chose the one that would irritate her the most, smiling brightly and waving to her, "Hi!"

The twitch in her eyes told him that she seriously wanted to hurt him, but she was restraining herself, "Looks like you made a piss-poor choice in pokegirls."

"I'm not even a tamer." Ben responded, shrugging non-chalantly while keeping that cheerful smile on his face.

That seemed to irritate the tan woman as well, but in a different way. She apparently grew tired of seeing him smile so cheerfully, "Be glad that we aren't allowed to place you in any _fatal_ danger."

She spat into his cell and muttered something under her breath. Once she was out of sight, his gut feeling came back even stronger. Truth be told, her last words to him felt more ominous than anything else that had been said to him prior.

They might use him as a training dummy, beating him relentlessly and using him to show weaknesses in the male body. He did not look forward to the possibility of some two hundred women perfecting their testicle-crunching punches and kicks on him.

Ben forced himself to start humming songs he didn't like when his brain started coming up with all sorts of nasty things they could do to him without killing him. After all, they had someone who could cast illusions, and healing magic could keep him alive a lot longer than science could.

They REALLY wanted more troops or they were just really bored, either way, Ben soon found himself being chained up and hauled to a large chamber. In the middle of the room was large vat that was glowing with the same malevolent glow he'd seen in the basement of the mansion. Across the way were several women in labcoats with clipboards writing calmly as they pushed battered, beaten and, in some cases, severely maimed men into the vat, who were then fished out by the harness that had been wrapped around them and brought over for observation.

He overheard a woman nearby looking over a strapped-down patient, "Subject 2776-NL: No legs, severe facial trauma... regained one-third of the missing mass, face mostly healed. Retains scar on right cheek-"

He didn't hear much else as he was jerked forward by a tall Minotaura. He knew she wasn't a Milktit, because she wore a t-shirt over her large breasts, and it didn't show any signs of constant wear and tear.

They were experimenting with the regenerative properties of Jusenkyo water? He shuddered as those horrible thoughts of what they might be able to get away with filled his head.

Something that struck him as odd was the somber attitude the men displayed. Either they were blackmailed like he was or-

All of his other thoughts were driven away as he glanced back and saw a glazed-look in the eyes of the man behind him. That sealed it: they were drugging everyone else.

The question was why he hadn't been drugged. Maybe because he was "willing"? Or maybe that tan bitch wanted him to suffer through whatever they were going to do to him.

He followed the next man into the next room like a Judas Goat, and a spray of blood greeted him. At first, he was grateful he'd gotten his eyes closed in time, but then he saw what they were doing and his blood chilled.

Injuring an opponent gave him no bad dreams. Even the thought of breaking bones of an enemy might be a major deterrent to any otherwise relentless foe. Even killing someone in self-defense could be rationalized away. The Waspqueen had been trying to kill him and his friends.

But what those women were doing in that room would haunt him for the rest of his days.

It was not the sound of power tools, the spattering of blood or even the horrific smells, but the looks of glee on the faces of some of the women as they mutilated the bodies of the "experiments".

He quickly noticed that none of the guards came beyond the door and that none of sounds, blood or sights of what was going in the room were reaching the outside.

Recalling what occurred next was impossible. All he knew was that when he woke up, he was not in a cell, he was not in that horrific room, he was still male and his left arm was now metal and looking like it'd been stolen from a suit of armor. His right forearm was in a cast with the fingers exposed and from he could see, there were numerous cuts visible along his arm, but the blue hospital gown prevented him from seeing anything else. It was upon seeing the gown that he realized he was in a hospital ward, but it took a few more seconds to realize that someone was standing next to him.

A big muscular man stood over him. He was almost completely bald save for the huge blonde mustache over his mouth and the tiny wisp of blonde hair of his forehead, but he could be a replica of Arnold Schwarznegger from that Iron Man video he'd been forced to see in Ninth grade English class for no apparent reason.

The man wore a blue double-breasted dress uniform that seemed perfectly suited for him, despite the almost absurd size of it.

"Are you all right?" the big man inquired.

"Sort of." Ben answered, raising his left arm in surprise and mild disgust. The fluidity of it's motion was impressive, but the feeling of his natural nerves touching the receptors was almost enough to make him want to puke.

"Do you recall anything that happened?" the big man inquired.

"Not much after I went into that operating room." Ben answered.

"That's probably for the best." the big man responded, "By the way, we have several girls in holding that say they know you. I know you might not be feeling well, but we were hoping you'd been willing to tell us which ones are telling the truth."

"Okay." Ben said. He tried to sit up, but his legs spasmed irregularly and he felt a twinge at his neck, like something was suddenly pressing into it. He twitched in revulsion.

"Perhaps you shouldn't try to move so much." the big man said, guiding Ben back to the mattress, "I'll bring a wheelchair."

A few minutes after the big man had left, Ben's mind wandered, wondering how he'd gotten to the hospital.

Something pressing against his neck, "Oh god-" his vision blurring, "Someone get a medic!" someone standing over him, "What kind of inhuman-" someone shouting, "HE'S STILL ALIVE! MEDIC!" someone else over him, "HOLD ON!"

Ben didn't remember sitting up or the big man coming back, but as his senses slowly came back, his entire body was covered in a cold sweat and the big man was gently shaking him.

"-ap out of it!" the big man finished saying.

"I'm... I'm okay.... I think." Ben answered, his eyes searching the air above his bedsheets for answers that never came.

"Why don't we go see those people in holding. It'll take your mind off of it." the big man suggested.

Ben was dimly aware of someone else in the room, but when she pressed her breasts into his face, he became keenly aware of her. He glanced up at the turquoise-haired woman who was helping him into the wheelchair the big guy had brought and wondered if she too was someone he was supposed to know.

"Ren, dear, why don't you go get Major Arima? I can take it from here." the big man suggested as Ben settled into the wheelchair. The turquoise-haired woman nodded and left.

The trip was felt long, but he learned that the big man's name was Alex Louis Armstrong. He didn't know why, he felt the need to perodically rub his neck. Alex fell silent he did, but then started talking about something uplifting, like seeing a new baby.

Ben appreciated the gesture. The more he thought about that nightmare daydream, the worse he felt.

Once they reached the holding cells, Ben was able to quickly pick out Honey, Vesta, Rebecca and Kagome. Unfortunately, as Alex explained, they would stay in holding for a bit longer for observation, Honey especially since she was a Titto, then they would interviewed on what they knew and finally released.

"Am I going to be in holding too?" Ben inquired.

"No, but Major Arima will want to know what you can tell us about your captors." Alex responded.

Ben lamely waved goodbye before Alex rolled him back to his room. Ben had never felt like such an invalid, an utterly worthless sack of meat and bones, in his entire life. Even after his shoulder surgery, he had never felt so devoid of value.

The next few days were filled with mindless interviews from both the military and doctors, none of which seemed to touch the subject of anything that had occurred at the pokegirl base, and those were interupted only briefly by visits from the nurses, trips to the bathroom or sleep. By the end of the first day, his embarrassment over using a bedpan had driven him to walk to the bathroom.

He didn't mind the sponge baths as much, but even though one of the nurses had taken enough of a liking to him to give him a blowjob, he felt even more pathetic that he wasn't giving anything back. It was during these baths that he began hoping he never remembered what happened, as hundreds of scars of various sizes and lengths covered his body. He looked like a nail factory had exploded and he'd been a few feet away. His legs, at mid-thigh, had stitches that all around, and he had a particularly nasty-looking scar running from the lower left end of his ribcage down and back out of view around where his kidney was.

The thing that surprised him the most was the lack of pain. Sure, they probably kept him doped up without him realizing it, but even after his shoulder surgery, there'd been times when the pain killers would fade and he would feel a brief glimpse of what true pain was; yet there was none of that. Except for the occassionally twinge at his neck that he kept rubbing at, almost none of the visible injuries bothered him. Even whatever had happened to his right forearm didn't bother him.

Of course, he hadn't seen a mirror yet. The lighter material in a rectangular shape on the bathroom wall where a mirror normally was indicated that one HAD been in his bathroom, but had been removed. And he got the feeling that it stemmed from whatever happened with his neck, especially since the nurses seemed almost eager to visit him.

A lot changed once Lieutenant Hughes showed up. He had the same dress uniform that Alex wore, but he wore glasses, had spiky black hair that was combed backwards (save for one small batch that pointed forward), and he seemed much more laidback than most of the military officers who'd come to see Ben.

"So, how do you like the place?" Hughes asked, pulling up a chair and sitting back in a posture more fitting for a slacker in high school than a officer of the military.

"It's okay." Ben told him.

"Good, good... by the way, did you know you're going to be listed as a hero?" Hughes inquired, pulling out a cigarette, getting out a lighter, then mumbling curses and putting both the cigarette and the lighter away.

"Uh-wuh?" Ben said, his jaw hanging loosely as he stared at Hughes.

Hughes looked at him seriously, "Thought as much. The higher ups have had their suspicions, but it's a bit awkward to talk to a guy as beat up as you as to whether or not you can remember anything, seeing as you were pretty close to death."

"I guess." Ben responded.

"Captain Armstrong was able to tactfully inform us that you might be suffering from shock, but we have to know what you can tell us about that place. Whatever you can tell us." Hughes told him.

Ben explained what he could rationalize up to that room.

"And you don't remember anything afterwards?" Hughes inquired.

"Some brief images, but they-" Ben shuddered, and swallowed back bile, "-.... I don't get it... I might forget something, but this seems like it's deliberately blocked from my mind."

"That's because it is," Hughes explained, "You don't remember much because we couldn't calm you down without blocking that part of your memory. And, for your own sake, I'd leave it at that."

"What about the others?" Ben inquired.

"They're already free, but Kagome and Honey wanted to wait until you're released, so they're waiting in the taming center." Hughes explained.

Ben had to wonder about Rebecca and Vesta. Had they taken off? He wouldn't blame them, given that he'd pretty much directed them into a hellish nightmare.

Another week passed before Ben's right arm was freed from it's cast. It had only been a minor fracture, apparently, as his arm wasn't even seriously discolored, nor were there any stitches. He could finally walk freely after another half week and was declared fit enough to receive his award a day later.

The reward was an honorary plaque stating that he'd gone above and beyond the call of duty in helping to thwart a threat to the Crimson League.

[FINALLY, I know what League I'm in.] Ben thought angrily.

With it, he also received a healthy reward and the honorary rank of Lieutenant. He didn't understand WHY the military was giving him a rank, even an honorary one, but it was probably to boost publicity. Since it was honorary, it was very likely also temporary, which meant he couldn't actually flaunt it.

As an honorary military officer, he was able to sidestep the need for a tamer's license, and was allowed to take Honey and Kagome as his official pokegirls.

End of Chapter 8.
Sorry, but I've always felt it difficult to find a proper way to end a chapter.