With the defeat of Malicant - or at least this version of it - whatever pernicious virus had been in the dampening ray ceases to exist, and Gene dispels the armor in a flash of light. He still feels like hundreds of pounds of metal are sitting on his chest, but at least that's psychosomatic. He sits up, taking deep, heaving breaths, irritated that he missed everything but elated that Tony was victorious.

And - speak of the devil - here comes Tony now. He waves weakly at Tony as he approaches, and gets to his feet. His hand slips into his pocket, removing his shard of the Vilii stone. "I'm okay," he says, coughing, "but watch yourself. It'll come for me, next."

Truth be told, a lot of Gene's bravado in the previous fights he's been present for has been born of nerves. All of the big talk, all of the sarcasm, is his way of preparing himself for what he knows he's about to face. Gene's been bracing himself for this for a while; he's prepared for the shape that Malicant is about to take. It's a shape their enemy has taken before, when he'd taken a journey to the Death realm, and he's ready this time. He won't be cowering like a child again.

So when the form of Zhang appears before him, he bares his teeth. "You can't hurt me anymore," he says, snarling and raising the jian that his shard of the Vilii stone has formed itself into, a perfect replica of the sword Eshai had given him, and it's not clear if he's addressing Zhang or Malicant.

The replica of Zhang smirks at him. "Pitiful mongrel child," he says. "A mongrel and of unnatural tastes...I shouldn't have let you live. You were never of any use to me."

"Good, I wasn't trying to be," Gene retorts. "Let's just get this over with, you pathetic creature. Murderer of children...I'm going to enjoy this, you monster."

That startles a low chuckle out of Zhang. "The only monster I see here is you. Even without your heritage. I have to admit, I'm proud of what you've become. You've done some utterly twisted things, you know. And you pulled it off. You really pulled it off." He smiles nastily. "Even I never tried to manipulate you into caring for me. I knew it was a lost cause. But you," he says, pointing at Gene with one long fingernail, "you did more than just manipulate the Stark child until you had him wrapped around your finger. No, when he broke free of your lies, you cried crocodile tears in order to have him take pity on you so you could lure him into your bed. Twisted. Magnificently so. I'm proud of you."

"That's not true," Gene says, gritting his teeth. He knows it's not true, he knows Malicant is just lying again, because all it does is lie. "It wasn't true when you spoke with my voice earlier, and it isn't true now."

"Oh, you know it is," Zhang/Malicant says, and grins. "You have him so twisted around that he couldn't even kill you when you begged him to. He would have saved you all if he'd killed you back then, you know. I think he even knows that. And if you're so worried about me taking you over again, why haven't you just killed yourself, rather than asking someone you supposedly care about to do it? Do it, child. Turn that sword in your hand on yourself and do everyone a kindness."

Gene's face is stony, impassive, and the fact that Malicant is echoing his earlier words to Tony - it would be a kindness, in the end - is a painful proof that it's been probing around in Gene's head for anything it can possibly use against him. He refuses to rise to the bait, his sword hand steady. Zhang keeps talking. "No? Perhaps you're just as much of a coward as I always thought you were. I have to say, I've never seen that before, getting someone so turned around that they value your life over their own. Even over the good of an entire civilization! You can't possibly be that good in bed to make him fawn over you like that. Have you been using that glorious little crimson ring on him, to get him to obey your every whim?"

"Never," Gene says harshly, feeling sick to his stomach at even the implication of using Tony like that. "I'd never do that. I swore I wouldn't." He glances back towards Tony, as if to say He's lying, he's lying, please believe me, I wouldn't do that to you, I wouldn't control you like that again, I'd die first.

"You already have. You've already done it today; who knows how many other times you've used that ring to get what you want? You're so bad at keeping your promises, little monster. You promised to kill me, and I'm still here." Malicant gives up any pretense of being Zhang for a moment, and continues needling Gene. "It was so easy to get into your head and take control...it was almost like you wanted me to do it. Like you wanted to have the excuse to let the darkness in your soul run rampant. And believe me, it's there - I've seen it, and you know it exists. Tell me, did you resist, when you first noticed me slipping in? Or did you just go with it, knowing that nobody would blame you for what you did under my influence, that you could murder again, and face no justice, but pity for being my tool?"

A horde of Tong ninjas sprouts up behind him, out of the shadows, ready to hinder Gene's companions at the slightest gesture from their master, ready to prove to Gene he's hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed. "Poor Gene," Zhang croons mockingly, "poor, pitiful Gene. The tortured soul who believes that just saying he's sorry will wipe his slate clean and the red from his ledger. You like it, don't you? You like feeling a life slip away beneath your fingers." It's not clear whether Malicant is back in-character as Zhang, or simply trying to unnerve Gene. "Just like me. Just like me. I raised you better than I ever thought, and better than you ever realized. Actually, you're not just like me. You're more devious and twisted than I could ever hope to be. You've really done your old man proud." And he laughs, and the sound is ugly and discordant, and the ninjas laugh too, and the sound echoes around the cave like thunder, rolling and disorienting, hurting Gene's ears. It's laughter he's heard before, humiliation he's been subjected to at the hands of the real Zhang, and all the memory serves to do is make him angry. This isn't Zhang. And Malicant is wrong.

"We are not blood," Gene says, forcing his voice to remain calm, his grip on the sword so strong his hand is beginning to hurt. "Your research is wrong. The form you're wearing is that of my stepfather. I am not his kin. I am nothing like you, or him."

"That's right," the shade says, a look of mock thoughtfulness crossing his face. "I forgot. You never knew your father. Your whore mother must have fucked one of those lizards, zázhǒng." Zhang practically spits the word, and Gene flinches ever so slightly at the old slur he'd grown unused to being called, the slur that had been as good as a nickname for ten years. "I never knew my pet name for you would be so accurate. Half-breed. You know, it's a pity I killed her before your relatives came to visit. I could ask her which one of them is your father. Eh, bastard? Blood tells, boy - you're a whore just like her, using your body to trick power out of greater men. You unnatural mongrel child."

Gene's regulating his breathing, trying not to let the barbs from either 'Zhang' or Malicant breaking character get under his skin. "Shut up," he says, "shut up. Shut up. You're wasting time. Let's just get this over with so I never have to see either of you again."

"It was so sweet, killing her," Zhang says, not even listening to him, and the register of his voice shifts as Malicant drops the facade again. "But then again, I don't have to tell you how good it feels to kill, do I, little monster? How thrilling it is to destroy? How intoxicating? You belong to me, you always have, from the minute you accepted my little gift and let me into your worthless head. Your soul is mine."

"And you're stalling. Shut up and fight me. Or don't you think you have the guts? Are you too scared?" Gene smirks recklessly at the shade, goading it to fight, trying desperately to ignore all of the vile lies it has spouted so far, hoping that the others aren't taking its words at face value. "You're stalling because you don't think you can beat me. You're stalling, because you're afraid of this." The jian gleams in his hand in the dimness of the caverns.

"I fear nothing, and certainly not a child like you. But very well, zázhǒng," Zhang smirks. "If you're so opposed to living a little longer, let's begin."

The shade begins to change shape, and Gene tightens his grip on the sword, expecting the armor of the Mandarin to form up in front of him. His heart's pounding in his chest - now, now he's finally going to free himself from the tyranny of Zhang, the specter of abuse that hangs over his every waking moment. Even after years away from him, the patterns of thought had been so deeply carved into his brain that there was a broken record of all the ways Zhang had tried to break his spirit playing over and over. It's time to change that record.

Around him swirls a cascade of bad memories, pulled from his brain by Malicant, his weakness exposed for all to see. He grits his teeth and tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the fact that now Solomon and Akito can see what Tony's already seen, highlights of what Zhang had done to him, the beatings, the imprisonment, the abject cruelty. Here, there's a vision of Zhang, fully armored save for helmet, picking him up by his neck and throwing him across the room; there, a projection of another armored beating, a much younger Gene crouched bruised and bleeding on the floor, trying to shield his head from the worst of the blows. It shifts as Malicant rifles through his memories, specters flickering into being of gruesome dreams he's had of Tony killing him, of him killing Tony, of Makluans killing them both, of his friends - his friends, both from home and from Keeliai, those still on the turtle and those long gone, Joly, Bianca, Temeraire, Raine, Amelia, Loki, Akito, Kalliel - dead all around him, dead by his hand. You'd love to do this, I'm sure, Malicant's voice rings out over the grim images. You'd love to kill them all. The ninjas advance menacingly on Tony, Sol, and Akito, three for each of them.

His jaw is hurting with how hard he's gritting his teeth and attempting to block out the bad memories and bad dreams given form around him. He's proud, so having his weakness and anxieties exposed like this is as jarring a blow as any physical attack Malicant could unleash upon him, and his stomach twists in rage. But he forces it down and remains calm. Skul's taught him how to resist this, how to keep himself calm even when his fear and anger are raging inside him. He's dealt with this. He's ready for this. Let it come.

But instead of what Gene expects - Malicant's been in his head, after all, it knows what Gene is prepared for and what he isn't - there's no bulking up, no demonic black armor. The shape this shard of Malicant is wearing slims, and shortens, and becomes the form of a woman.

Anyone who's been in Gene's room would recognize her as the woman in the photograph he keeps by his bed. And anyone who's been in his memories would recognize her as his mother.

Gene takes a step back, then another, his sword arm lowering just a little. It's a trick, he knows it's a trick, but that doesn't mean it doesn't stab him right in the heart. He's looking at his mother, standing before him for the first time in thirteen years, the mother he'd known for a certainty that he'd never see again. Zhang's treachery had taken her from him, and Malicant's scheming has brought her back. It's a masterstroke. Malicant's masterstroke. "Stop," he says, breathing harshly, his hands shaking, trying to maintain the calm that he'd managed to settle into. "Stop. You're not her. You're not her!"

"You have failed me, Temujin," she says regally, taking a step forward. Though they are both now speaking Mongolian (his mother tongue, his mother's tongue), a trick of the Dreaming translates it into the languages the others would most readily understand, making the Altaic words into the background of all their dialogue. "You refused to kill this interloper -" her eyes flick to Tony - "and claim your destiny. He has made you weak. Lust has made you weak. It is a sin for lesser men, Temujin, not for you. I am giving you one more chance to prove yourself worthy as my son. Free yourself from this weakness. Kill him. Kill him, and take back what is rightfully yours."

"No. Stop. You're not her," he says, his voice upscaling to almost a shout in his disbelief, the sword trembling in his hand. "Stop it. Stop it!"