Exceptional P2TM RP Posts

[Tiltjuice]

As Giovenith remained silent and listened to her friends talk about the going-on's about their world, she mentally pulled herself inward tighter and tighter to fasten against the ever-growing thoughts rattling around in her head and heart. They were not nice thoughts. At first they were merely angry, but then they grew nasty, and now they were outright dark. They were blackened by the descriptions bouncing around the table and the distressed, heartbroken looks that came with them. Tighter she pulled herself, for she did not want to show that she had reached an understanding that she had gratefully lacked for most of her life, but was now upon her with a grim acceptance. For the first time in her life, Giovenith understood why deities became so furious over dishonor.

Every single fear, struggle, pain, heartache, panic, and death scare from the numerous invasions they faced was flashing before her mental eye one way, while the processes of the mundanes' disdain from them raced the other. She remembered blood on her hands from scars she had tended with the sniffy faces of the ignorant superimposed on them. She remembered her trip with Naomi to Elohim and the souls they'd put back to proper homes, souls now using their new lives to wander the streets looking for innocents to use as symbols for their petulant sense of self-righteousness.

I want to take it all back, chilly thoughts misted around her mind, almost reaching her lips but never quite making it. I want to pluck every blessing we've ever given them from their fingers one by one and see their eyes fill with that horrible realization, that you don't know what you have until you don't have it anymore. I want to rip all the bandages, and crutches, and buttresses, and padding we slaved over away, watch them fall back into the dust, and only offer forgiveness when we are good and ready. I want them to see what they had, and how they are without it, without us--pathetic, spoiled simpletons who would be bone dust and ash by now if it weren't for people here doing every little damn thing for them.

The girl found herself in a paradox, where one part of her was scared by those thoughts and another couldn't bring itself to care. Both those parts, however, understood the one fateful truth of the matter: there was nothing Giovenith could do about it. For all she had gone through, she was little just a little girl. There wasn't anything they could change. Or could they?

What now? What about downstairs? she thought bitterly, narrowing her eyes at her lap. What's decided to smash into the peaceful little land of Bielefeld this time? More Drones? Alien invaders? Some mad god? Mutant robot chimpanzees from the eighth dimension? Oh, but we'll just fix that right up for them too, won't we? Once that's handled they can have more time to focus on the important things, like repaying us with half-witted crime accusations and attacks on our character if not our bodies.

The embittered teen felt like spitting at the idea of bandaging some fool while he spewed obscenities at her for reasons a toddler could poke holes in. They forgot what happened just over two years, what would any of it change? Why should they suffer because the people of Bielefeld had the memory capabilities of goddamn squirrels?

Because it's the right thing to do, some small part of her quipped from the shadows.

Nice things come at a price, she reminded it.

Outwardly, Giovenith politely coughed into her clenched fist.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Mhmm," Minerva opened the Building's front door and they stepped directly into the pub.

It was mostly empty now that Klaus Men had returned to the Ruins. A few of her Lads occupied the dart board corner, but most of the cultists were either on patrol or else at home with their families. The lights were lowered and Vera Lynn's sweet voice warbled from the old radio behind the bar. Minerva listened to a few notes, her mind falling back to London skies filled with barrage balloons, and Britons riding out the German blitz in shelters and underground stations. Life was so much simpler during her mortal years. But that was the purpose of this pub, no? To remind themselves of days gone by, and of what they had all given up in order to win the War.

"Scotch and cola for the lass," she called to the Chaos Astartes behind the bar, "and my usual, Cliff. Thanks, handsome."

She gestured for Torii to join her at one of the worn wooden tables, and waited until Cliff had brought over their drinks (hot toddy for the fatigued lady) before broaching the subject again.

"Alright, Torii. Let's hear what's going on inside your head and heart tonight. Don't worry if you feel the urge to vent, either. It's between hours here, and no body minds."

A long sigh escaped Tora, who leaned back in her chair and gave what she'd say a thought for a minute. "Oh boy, where do I even begin?", She said, almost seeing the thoughts and images swirling through her head like a storm. This was going to be a long one.

"I guess I just lost it at the meeting, and I don't just mean my temper.", She started. She looked uncomfortable. "I really feel like I've changed and matured since I said all that stuff two years ago, and I've especially changed in the last year. Since Yoshi left and I distanced myself from Katya, I've learned a lot. I have all of these great, close friends who I can rely on; hell, I know I have a habit of doing it, but I think that I can seriously look at Marcus like a big brother, and Gio is just so awesome, and then Drova has been so nice to me. I feel safe with them, but I've also been able to come out of my shell and grow up, and they've been a good influence on me. I didn't even want to think about what I did before, back when I was so angry and lonely. I tried not to let all the growing hate around us bother me, because I knew that if I went off, then I'd be in big trouble, like at the Carnival last year, and I didn't want it to hurt my friends, either."

God, that was a mouthful. Torii grabbed the glass and chugged down her scotch quickly, following it down with a few swigs of her soda. "Anyways", she continued, "Then the meeting was announced. At the Carnival, Klaus told us that we should go, because people didn't like Abhumans. I'd heard some before, but I didn't really think that there was such a big problem with them. I mean, we helped everyone, right? Why would people hate Abhumans, and especially a bunch of kids? It pissed me off. I remembered how those bullies hurt my friends the last time, and how I hurt them all to protect my friends. I wanted to do that again. I hate it when people hurt my friends!"

Torii crossed her arms and snuggled into her seat. "And then we got news of the meeting, and, after sleeping at the observatory because it was too dangerous to move at night, it scared me. Would I be targeted too, even if I was normal? At the meeting, then, you started to mention who did what, and you repeated every single thing I said. Basically, you said that I was completely responsible for fucking up everything, and I started the problem. That was two years ago, Minerva. Two damn years!", She slapped the table with her right hand. "And it made me mad again. Really mad! I was a sixteen year old girl, and a normal little human. If they got pissed off at everyone because of a little girl, then they're all a bunch of spineless sissies, I'm just saying. Anyways, I felt so betrayed and angry at that. I thought that I had made so much progress, and that it was all behind me, because I know that everyone wanted me to grow up, and then that entire thing is brought back up again, and everybody who actually matters now suddenly remembers that it was me, and, what's even worse, is that now everybody will hate me because of it! I've already lost friends because of my attitude, and I try to keep control, and that just, I don't know, ruined it all in my mind. It didn't matter what I did, because I still fucked up. I felt like I always did back then. I felt like I was small, and always messing up everything, which was why I was always angry. I just wanted to feel like I mattered. That pissed me the fuck off. That was what made me loose it back there."

She looked up at Minerva and wiped her eyes; they itched. "And then there was Giovenith. I really think of Gio as my best friend. Actually, I used to have a big crush on her, about two years back, and I think I still do, kind of. When Marcus started hanging out with us all, I was super jealous because they got along so well, although it wasn't like I had a chance with her anyway. Well, I saw how Marcus and Gio were so good together, and how they both just brought out the best in each other, and I wanted to support them. I wanted them to be safe and happy, because that's how I've always seen them here. When I heard that those...assholes wanted to target her, all sorts of terrible things went through my head. I won't let anyone hurt her, I thought, and I was, and I still am, prepared to kill someone to protect my friend. When I said that, Hans talked about how I wouldn't stand a chance, and how they'd just kill me brutally and carry on, and that pissed me off even more, because that's exactly how everyone spoke to me last year! I hated being told that I couldn't do anything like everyone else here, and it made me feel like shit. I feel useless, and I've always had those problems with feeling like I was worthless. Every time he and Klaus speak, I feel like shit, and then I fuck everything up and get run away. I just want to feel like I matter."

Torii choked up and leaned over, hiding her face. "I still have more to say, but I'll let you hear that first."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

With an audible click, which served no purpose other than to appease a love for the retro, the next song in the playlist began.

I can't see where you comin' from
But I know just what you runnin' from...

When he opened his eyes, it was but a few seconds until he tasted salt. And so he didn't open his eyes.

Having them closed was hardly better. Better for his pride, maybe. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Her.

Christ in a crown of thorns, hanging limp and bloody from the nails in his flesh. That's the price we all pay. That's the price of the right thing. We all die, so die right.

She was terrible, truly, in a way she had never been in life. She was not Rosalind, She was a beast born of her. A ragged, horrible thing pinned upon skin of metal, letting out a scream which ends the universe. Her meat rotted upon her bones, Her hair turned brittle and gray, but She never stopped screaming. Even when Her blood dried and no more answer the wounds, She wouldn't stop. She was more than a girl, She was a god. She was his plague. She followed him everywhere he went, whispering black, black things. Secret truths.

And what matters ain't the who's baddest but
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby

Look at the anguish. His pain is clear. The son of God, and still He suffers. What of the son of Man, how can he bear the pain if He cannot? But behind His pain is an understanding, a sagacity. She had no such relief. Hers was suffering unmitigated, crucifixion with no resurrection. Spring won't come again. She didn't get the death She deserved.

She had always been there, in truth, even before Rosalind died. But now She had form, a name, and with those things came power. And Her scream didn't stop. It paralyzed him, reminded him of his failure. The scream wasn't Hers, maybe - maybe it was his.

Maybe it was better to taste the salt, then. When his eyes were open, at least, the screams could be put to the back of his mind.

And you feel like you feelin' now
And doin' things just to please your crowd,
When I love you like the way I love you,
And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause

So this was the end? Mere anarchy? He had expected something else, somehow. Something human. Something cold and quick, born of the hands and minds of a million men doing the right thing, or the easy thing, or the painless thing. That he could understand. But what was this? Baser cruelty? That, he knew, was more human than the bomb. But it wasn't him. It wasn't what he would do.

Maybe he wasn't human.

They told him that, once. They told him he'd lost his soul. They told him he was born of an unholy pact, if there was such a thing as holy.

She was holy. Best to ignore holy.

They had told him all his life he was born of a dark magic which had not been performed before. A soul stolen from Death, taken by some demon - no, not some demon, he knew that now. By a man who was just as sad and scared as he was. But then, wasn't that every demon? Wasn't that what made him wicked - not his lack of a soul, but his soullessness?

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

He knew. He knew what they all said about him, what they thought of him. That he was antisocial, sociopathic, even cruel. They weren't wrong. What had he ever done to his fellow but cause pain? He had tried to be good, but all that had come of it was pain.

Die right. Die on the cross, repentant, with a crown of thorns and a prayer on your lips. But it was a lie, a lie told by priests and angels - there is no redemption. No one comes to forgive you. You just die, hatefully, like you deserve. It isn't sacrifice, it isn't penance, it's justice. Die on the cross, because you don't deserve to die on your own two feet.

But maybe that all didn't matter now. Everyone was going to die now, and it was his fault again. He could've done something, couldn't he have? He should have known, this whole time he should have known. It was so obvious - if he had looked, he could have seen. But he did not look, and now the day was lost to Old Night.

And now he sat here, on the battleground, immobile and crippled. That's all he had ever been - a cripple in a war. How'd he cause so much trouble when he couldn't even stand? He coughed, and tasted his own blood in the back of his throat, and knew that no human's blood tasted like that. Even his body knew what he was, and had changed to fit that.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

Die on the cross. But there were no crosses.

Every time I close my eyes, I think,
I think about you inside,
And your mother, givin' up on askin' why -
Why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make
A fool outta she...

"STAND!" a voice broke into his thoughts. D's eyes bolted open and the harsh light of a blue flame met them. He groaned.

What he stood before him was a beast. It wore ragged yellow robes, which hung loose around its shoulder and flapped in the wind, covered in gore and dried blood. Its skin was pale and its eyes blue as a purer water than had ever flowed on Earth. It wore the grin of a holy man, but its eyes spoke of the lie. Its red beard came down to its chest and its fangs nearly as far, or so it seemed. This was the death of everything. This was Fae, and it carried in its hand a blue flame.

"It's not any fun if you just take it," the Fae growled in Her voice - how'd it know? or was he just mad?, "Give me a game, boy."

The flame extinguished. The Fae bent down to D and somehow smiled even wider, its breath dank as a dog's. It grabbed D's arm with all its strength - that crack was his ulna, most likely - and pulled their faces close, close enough that D could see all the myriad scars scattered about its face. Fae do not bleed except when they want to, D knew, and they do not scar unless they will it.

"Has anyone told you how ugly you are? On the inside?"

I can't see where you comin' from,
But I know just what you're runnin' from.

"Fuck you," D spat.

"Bit later on," the Fae snickered, flicking its tongue.

"Just do it."

"You're no fun."

And in that moment, D hated that Fae more than anything, more than even himself. This was going to kill them? This was what would take the life from his mother, from his father, from his friends? This thought it had the right to do the just thing, to right the wrongs he did Her? This was no justice, this was evil.

Blue lightning crackled across the Fae's fingers for a brief second, before surging forth in a brilliant flash into D's body. His back went suddenly straight and he took a deep breath as he let out a shout. His eyes glowed blue.

And what matters ain't the who's baddest, but the
Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause...

"Thanks for the recharge, shitbreath."

A blast of light exploded from D's eyes and straight into the Fae's; without a sound, the Fae's head melted away into nothing, leaving nothing but the blue light. D stood again, his armor whining and creaking as it came back to life.

At the very least, if you're going to die, die right. Die on your own two feet.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

"FOR ELFEN HIGH AND ROSALIND JAMESON!" And Franklin Jameson flew into battle, praying something would just fucking kill him already.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Music.

Oberon slammed a fist against Crowley's stomach. The other man took the blow, hardly wincing. "You are done, Oberon." growled Crowley. Crowley kneed his uncle in the balls, causing the other man to fall backwards. He slammed his elbow down on Oberon's neck, causing a slamming sound to be heard. The Fae King looked panicked and surprised at this turn of events.

"How the hell?" he demanded. "How the hell are you even doing this?" his English voice cracked as he roared.

"Kicking your ass." said Richard cheerfully, watching the action and taking a swig of Fireball whisky. His brow furrowed. "Fireball?" he said with annoyance, turning to Leo Major. "It's a bit weak."

"It's good, honest, Canadian stuff." said Major with annoyance, but Richard had already stopped paying attention. He had turned back to looking at the fight. "Go Aleister!" Richard barked. "Make us proud!"

It was do or die.

Oberon's eyes glowed completely blue, his pupils disappearing as his sockets only seemed to hold balls of blue light. "FUCK OFF." he snarled. He threw a punch at Crowley, though he was a dozen feet away. The punch made a cracking noise as it hit the air, and a blast of air and blue energy hit Crowley in the face, causing him to stagger backwards. Oberon slammed the ground, causing the ground beneath the Harbinger to turn into lava. Crowley winced initially, then flew slightly above it and allowed the crack to close.

"You don't get it." Crowley urged Oberon. "Just give up. You've lost, Oberon. Surrender." One looking at Crowley directly would assume he was completely serene and confident, absolutely sure of himself. When in reality, well...

"You're bluffing." noted Leah, appearing behind him and visible only to him.

"Well, yes." muttered Crowley quietly, audible only to himself and Leah. "But let's not let the Fae King know that." he winked.

That wink drove Oberon even more insane. "FUCK OFF AND FUCK YOU." declared the Fae King, his eyes burning with absolute rage and hatred. "I WILL SKULLFUCK YOU, ALEISTER CROWLEY."

The Aleister Crowley in question was then quite stunned by a charging Oberon who had lit himself aflame and grabbed his neck. Oberon lifted his nephew up in the air, his hand squeezing. "Die." he spat.

Crowley kicked Oberon in the face, causing the Fae some surprise. He kicked even harder. There was a snapping sound as Oberon's head separated from his body, flying off. It rolled on the ground as his body staggered. Oberon sighed. "For fuck's sake." the disembodied head muttered, flying upwards and reattaching itself to his body. He then opened his mouth and a blue beam of light blasted out of it, hitting Crowley straight on.

But then the Fae King was distracted, hit by a missile. "Go fuck off." Daisuke barked, dozens of Daisukebots emerging from the sky and firing away at the man who had destroyed the universe.

Crowley looked around himself frantically - Oberon should have been dead. But the bastard was truly a relative - he had a stubbornness that would not die. So more drastic measures might need to be tried. But what...

Elfen High's headmaster looked out at the corpse of Leviathan in the distance, floating there...And then he looked at Elfen High itself, sitting on the tree.

A cartoonish lightbulb appeared over his head before disappearing. The sheer massive amount of magic in the world right now meant strange things like that would happen. The Harbinger of the Sun roared, tackling a surprised Oberon and flying off with him toward Leviathan's corpse. Oberon slammed his fist into his nephew's back, fully intent on shattering it, but Crowley would heal himself as soon as any damage was done. This is effectively what occurs when the two strongest beings in the Omniverse are fighting one another.

Oberon bit into Crowley's neck, ripping off some of the flesh and muscle, but a bleeding and stubborn Crowley merely slammed him down on the back of the dead dragon Leviathan. They touched down on this megalodon of a dragon, after which Crowley blasted Oberon with an energy beam from his left hand. "I'm willing to blow up the entire Omniverse if it means that you die." threatened Crowley.

Oberon raised an eyebrow. "You're a liar." he murmured, his voice calm again. It was not a safe calm. It was a dangerous, angry river. And they were coming close to the waterfall of rage. "You won't do that. That goes against everything you want."

"And should we have a world where everyone is eternally tormented by you or ruled in a world of your meaning, after your Gotterdammerung?" asked Crowley. "No. Never. So let's do this."

Leah's voice spoke behind him. "This is a risk, Aleister." she warned.

"That's not arguable." muttered Fixban. "But this fucking school was founded on danger. Danger's been here since the beginning of time. Do what you need to do, Aleister."

Richard just smiled. "Clean up time. Wipe the floor with him." The janitor could not, in any way, resist those puns.

Crowley howled suddenly as the corpse of Leviathan seemed to wake up and move, going rapidly and rapidly toward Elfen High, which was perched at the top of the Tree right now. "Alright alright alright!" he whooped, Oberon's eyes widening as the nose of the dragon collided with the school.

"You're mad." Oberon noted, his fear tingled with just slight fear. But mostly, interest. Curiosity. Wonder. Madness was also something quite common in this family, and Oberon wanted to see what was going to happen next. The corpse of Leviathan glowed purple, shining. "You're going to detonate the corpse of the creator of all things?" asked the King of the Fae, sounding impressed by the audacity, his voice sounding like they were discussing Crowley acing a math test or some such.

"Absolutely." declared Crowley. "Just try and stop-" he stopped talking because he was suddenly punched in the face. Bone cracked - both his and Oberon's fist, but the Fae King pounded his nephew with a follow up knee to the groin, and his left hand grabbed the back of Crowley's head and slammed it down on the knee. Blood gushed from Crowley's bruised skull.

"You can do it." said Sanchez's voice calmly. "I'm sorry about everything, Aleister. You're a better man than I was." he admitted, the ghost of the ISSR commander appearing to Crowley who was in a daze. "Look, soldier. Get your ass up and get going. You got to do this."

"Fuck off arsehole." muttered Crowley under his breath, mentally flipping off the military man. But it did help. He slowly pulled himself upwards, glancing down at the pulsing purple dragon underneath them. "I don't even need to kill you, Oberon." he said confidently. "I just need to hold you off."

"You're not using your full power." Oberon noted, ignoring Crowley's words. "You're holding yourself back. Why? You hold the power of the entire Omniverse in you. Every soul has given you what they have. Why are you not using them up and using your full potential?"

"If I do, the souls die." Crowley growled, spitting out some blood. A tooth came with it. "I can't let that happen. I hold what once was the world within me. I'll use the strength I am given voluntarily. I will not force it out."

"You're a fool." Oberon laughed, his face in a wide smile. "An utter fool. For your bloody honour you're going to give up your chance of saving the world, because you think that making any sacrifice is too much?" An eyebrow was raised. "Well, I have a surprise for you, my dear nephew."

The ghost of Richard tensed, and appeared before Oberon, who looked briefly at him in surprise. "Oh. Brother. It is good to see you. You look terrible."

"I am dead."

Oberon paused. "You know, brother, ever since we separated, there's been a hole in my heart." he commented. "Literally - I'm not complete. We used to be at ultimate power together, but now...it's just not the same." Oberon said solemnly, sighing. "Well, how about we do this?" he offered.

Crowley and Richard looked at Oberon cautiously when the King suddenly grabbed Crowley by the neck again and the Harbinger felt himself weakening as blue light went up Oberon's arm. "What the bloody hell?!" Crowley demanded.

"Time for me to take some things back, my dear boy!" Oberon cackled triumphantly. "Let's see how things go when we're whole again, Richard!"

Richard's eyes widened. "This is not a good sign." he said as his ghostly apparition burst into flames for dramatic effect, before disappearing.

"RICHARD!" Crowley roared in shock and awe and horror, seeing his father disappear. For all he knew, forever. And Oberon screamed, in a mixture of joy and pain, his body glowing as he knelt down on one knee, covering his forehead with one hand and shrieking. Richard was not making the readjustment an easy one. But Oberon slowly stood up, laughing.

"I'm whole again." he marvelled, looking down. "I'm whole and I'm in control." He slammed his foot down on Crowley's stomach to the gasp and groan of the wizard. His foot went right through Crowley's stomach, and as Oberon lifted it up blood could be seen spilling out. "You will die today, Aleister Crowley." threatened Oberon. "Nothing you can do will stop this."

Crowley felt himself gasping, his vision blurring. No. This couldn't be it. He couldn't die...if he fell, the entire Omniverse would fall with him. All that would be left would be Fae and dragon once more. And now without Leviathan, the Fae would effortlessly wipe out the dragon armies or convert them. There would be nothing left.

He heard Oberon singing to himself, humming.

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with gifts only he can bring
The King is very close now, you can see his crown
He will come and burn you down

All Hail The King, All Hail The King
As he comes, the children sing
He brings his gift, raining it down on you
When we accept, he leaves to do it elsewhere anew

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with a gift only he can bring
The King is patient, the King has waited
He has come to burn this Earth he's hated

Crowley gasped, trying to retain some air. He focused on himself...he would need to use up some souls in order to heal and fight Oberon. What else was there to do, especially as Oberon was now "whole"? He had reabsorbed Richard's soul and would likely absorb more souls from Crowley if Crowley weren't careful. But the Fae King was also going quite insane, and hadn't seemed to remember that advantage he had.

"Mr. Charming!" Oberon taunted. "Did you think you were pure?" punching his nephew in the face.

Crowley slowly raised one hand, ready to channel some souls in an energy blast against Oberon when both combatants suddenly noticed there was a sword in Oberon's chest. "What the bloody hell?" He turned his head 180 degrees, seeing that William had slammed Excalibur directly through the Faery King's chest. He gave Crowley a wink and a nod, during which time Oberon had socked William directly in the face, not wanting to repeat the "Excalibur to balls" scenario.

But when Oberon did that and was about to heal the hole in his chest, he saw a portal had opened in that empty space. And fire was bursting through. Standing away, Alastor gave his own wicked grin, backed by all of ghostly Hell chanting his name. Oberon groaned, trying to seal the portal shut with magic, which gave distraction for a shrieking noise to start emitting in his ears as Eric played on a flute, playing a note only Oberon could hear and causing blood to come gushing from his ears. The portal in his chest stayed open, fire bursting and moving, encouraged by Parnell standing behind his husband and backing up the flames.

Lyra flipped a page on her notebook and started to draw Crowley without wounds and scars, causing the headmaster to slowly stand up, healed of damages and looking down at himself. He smiled, looking at Oberon struggling to maintain himself. Aleister Crowley laughed. "You forget something, uncle." A gesture toward his friends. "I'm not alone."

Oberon's blue eyes widened. Then he paused and took a deep breath. "Very well. Your friends will die alongside you." he said, pointing a finger downwards at the pulsing purple dragon. "You yourself have set the corpse of Leviathan to explode, Lucifer, in order to use that energy to somehow reverse engineer the previous universe. Don't you realise I can do the same? As I've reabsorbed my brother, I'm much more capable of doing such a thing."

Crowley nodded. "Yeah. I'll admit that's a risk." he grinned. "But we've taken a lot of risks recently. So fuck it. And fuck you."

Oberon trudged closer to Crowley, turning and punching William again as the boy charged to deliver another blow. Staggering backwards with a heavily injured face with a broken jaw, William then changed his sword into a gun, charging a blast and firing - Oberon redirected the attack, sending it at Crowley, who ducked as quickly as he could. The blast went off into the distance, going and going.

But this provided enough of a distraction for Lewis and Karna to tackle Oberon, Lewis kicking and biting and scratching. Karna slammed a fist into the side of Oberon's skull, giving Lewis enough time to knee Oberon in the crotch. Oberon glared at Lewis, ready to fire an energy blast out of his eyes at the American when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning to look, Oberon was shot in the face by a pistol fired by a grinning Detective Cartwright. The energy blast he was about to fire went up into the sky, missing everyone. A second tap on the shoulder - Oberon this time swung his fist as he turned, but Vernon's son Michael had already walked backwards, firing away with his gun.

"You mistake the amount of support we have." Crowley admonished Oberon as the two Ciels aided Eric in musically tormenting the Faery King. "Elfen High...we back each other. We support one another." he moved away from Oberon, focusing down on Leviathan's corpse which was pulsing and glowing ever more and at a quicker rate, almost like a heartbeat now. He needed some time to make sure this didn't backfire horribly, and he needed some protection, which was provided by Grace and Gwen charging at Oberon and blasting away at the distracted and overwhelmed Faery King who tried to damage as many people as he could, but found that Lyra would heal them up almost as quickly as he was able to do that.

Then Leviathan's corpse turned white. Oberon saw this and he screamed. The white void spread out from Oberon.

Then the world ended. Again.

---

"Would you kindly get up?" asked an American voice. Lazarian opened his eyes, glancing around. One hand held a broomstick, and the other hand held a bottle of Jack Daniel's (Demonic version. This was 135% alcohol. Light drink by demonic standards).

"This is not...the end..." a metallic voice intoned from nowhere in particular. Laz stared upwards, seeing Pierre giving a half-hearted smile. "It's good to see you again, Laz."

The demonic janitor stood up suddenly, looking at his friend. "PIERRE?" he exclaimed in shock. "How...am I dead? Did I overdose? On a pissy, girly drink like this?" he looked at the Jack in disgust, throwing the empty bottle to the side. He then looked at his old, long dead friend from Detroit. "Pierre...my head is burning. What happened? How are you here?"

"Well, the universe was saved. Some ghosts are still hanging around. We'll disappear soon enough." Pierre explained, sitting down in a nearby chair. "The world...it was collapsing. All the worlds. But we did it. All of us. We saved the entirety of the universe. You're in the basement of Elfen High, in Richard's office-"

"My office. I'm the janitor now." Laz corrected Pierre. "So, how did we get here?"

Pierre placed his left leg on his right knee. "Well, that will be a long story..."

---

"You're fighting senselessly." snarled Oberon, moving slowly toward Crowley. "You're trying to reshape the world, but it's pointless. You are not fit to rule, Lucifer, Crowley, Carry, whatever you'd prefer, even if you had delusions of that. You're pathetic. You're a mutt. A dog cannot become a lion."

They were standing atop Leviathan's corpse, which in massive claws was holding several branches of the Tree, which had been mostly destroyed in the explosion. But if someone was down there observing, they would see the branches regrowing, the Tree reforming slowly.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream..." he said inanely, watching as the dragon corpse raced through the white void which was slowly becoming coloured again as he concentrated. "Merily merily merily merily, life is but a dream..."

This was the role of the Harbinger now - the Tree was destroyed, and an enemy had tried to bring forth an eternal night, but the Sun would rise.

He remembered Richard's prophecies made long ago.

"The rescue will occur. The terrible defender will fall. The harbinger of the sun will appear again. A time of war will begin."
"The people of the north will fall. The dark prophet will burn many. The good will be broken. The war burns."

The universe was being rescued. Leviathan had fallen. He had appeared again. The war had begun. Heaven had fallen. Uriel burnt many. Good was broken. And the war burned.

But now it was time for healing.

The other PCs and NPCs had began to disappear and fade away - their bodies could not retain the stress of this new middle universe. Crowley reabsorbed them into his body as they all melted down to the form of pure souls. "You'll be safe within me." he said.

Crowley glanced around, seeing new dimensions and worlds form. He had all the souls of the previous Omniverse within himself, and he was slowly but surely releasing them, trying to remake worlds at a proper time, before damage caused by the Fae had occurred.

Alright...he took a breath, releasing a world quite similar to his, but still in the 1940s. He saw a few flashes of people, allied soldiers fighting against the Germans. He hoped that they would be successful. They had stories of their own, though Crowley had never come near them. He shot out another universe, seeing UN Peacekeepers aiding in an armed conflict. He wondered how that would end out, but he was inspired by it, by that selflessness. Selflessness that could now go somewhere. They were alive now. And he had to continue.

"You resist." Oberon intoned. "But you will fail." A black cloud came over the world Crowley had just released, but Crowley blew it away rapidly, and the world was left behind as he blasted out more and more worlds, more and more alternate dimensions. The headmaster had seen something when he had released that world. He had seen people. Individuals fighting and risking it all, people trying hard. That gave him motivation. Strength. He needed to keep going with this. Oberon noticed this motivation. "Your friends are gone, Aleister Crowley. This is no war between us - this will be harvest."

The headmaster glanced up. "I don't think so." he replied. Oberon frowned.

Then he doubled over. "What the hell?"

"You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you?" Oberon's mouth said again, but the tone and voice was different. A different person was speaking now. And Richard's voice sounded quite pleased. "Aleister and I realised almost immediately what you were trying to do. I went into your body willingly, just to stop you from doing this. Brother...you are a giant sack of shit. And I'm honoured to cause you hell."

Oberon fell to the ground, groaning. "No, no, NO." he howled. "This is unacceptable!"

"Crowley." Richard's voice again. "Finish the job."

Cities now. Crowley focused on them. Several, several cities. Alternate versions of them, all sorts. A city called Bielefeld that would shift locations as needed, moving across the Omniverse. He repopulated them with people who would be unaware of this entire encounter, except in bad dreams. It was a mystical place. Crowley was amused to realise that there was one alternate universe where both Bielefeld and Elfen High intersected. He was less pleased to see that it had been a massacre and nearly everyone involved in that experiment from his side had either died or been scattered across the Omniverse, killed by the Fae moving into that world and destroying it. He looked at Oberon with loathing, seeing what had happened to an alternate version of himself and those people. He saw fire and flames. That world was beyond saving - but the other Bielefelds had hope and potential, and were saved and repopulated. He had won those battles.

Crowley's body was weakening. It was evident and obvious. He was releasing too many universes, too many souls. As every soul left, his own body would weaken. But he had to keep going.

Another world was born. But as Crowley was creating this one, Oberon sprinted forward and kicked him, knocking him to the ground. Crowley cut Oberon with a knife, but he had been distracted. In this world, most details came out correctly but an alien ship conducting a routine surveillance over Earth exploded as Crowley recreated it. Green crystals, infused with Oberon's blood, fell to the ground and landed in Southern Africa. They were enfused with immense power. Some interesting things would occur as a result of that, but the world would go on. Crowley left it alone, seeing a bald mercenary start to form a squad.

Now it was time for Gwen's world. It had been utterly destroyed and wrecked by the Fae. Crowley felt the remaining souls from it inside his body, but he paused. Did he have time and power to do this, to make every world? He was growing weaker with every world he made.

This was his responsibility and decisions right now, something he would need to handle. He had become, intentionally or not, the Portal to the Multiverse. And he would need to see how he could make all these separate universes exist, and exist separate and away from the Fae.

He took a breath. New continents formed, new planets, new dimensions. The APS subuniverse was born again, but healed of Fae damages. Rebuilding would need to be done. But it had a future.

The Fae soldiers...what had occurred to them? "Oh, of course." Crowley muttered. "I absorbed the souls of the Omniverse. You absorbed the ones outside that field." he said to Oberon, who nodded.

"Dragons too." Oberon groaned. "We're cousins, after all. Came from the same source of Leviathan originally. I absorbed them when you blew up Leviathan's corpse. And when I create my own worlds, I'll end you. You will never truly destroy us." he snarled.

"No." Crowley admitted. "But this is not the end. I want more time for everyone."

Richard's voice came out again. "And I'm proud of you, my boy. I'm proud of what you're doing here. I wish I had told you that more. I wish I had told Uriel that as well. Perhaps things would be different then for us all."

No shit. thought Michael, watching everything happening from within Crowley, connected to all the other souls of the Omniverse.

...Fuck. I'm inside Aleister Crowley. This is disgusting on so many levels. Most of the Omniverse thought at once.

Crowley sighed, shooting out more and more worlds. He began to remake one particular world, a clean magical school there with an Indian headmaster. As Dwarven High was made and shot out into the Omniverse (which had begun to hum again, the white void around them becoming blue as they shot through the Nowhere between the Omniverses), Crowley realised he had remade most of the Omniverse quicker than anticipated. Though, of course, time had far less meaning now.

There was one left. One very important world. It was time to remake Elfen High.

---

"I mean, obviously, he succeeded." Pierre said, looking down at Laz who was having popcorn and listening with mouth agape.

Laz shook his head. "Well, you haven't finished! How are we alive? Who's alive? What happened to Oberon? Where the fuck is Crowley now?"

Pierre nodded. "I'm getting to that. Hold on." he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Alright. So here's what happened."

---

Oberon started laughing. "The cycle will continue." he giggled. "You've remade the universe. And I'll remake the Fae universe, or we'll live within the Nowhere between universes. And your body...well, you're not made for this, Crowley. You may have been the Harbinger of the Sun, but the Tree will reform. A new Harbinger will rise. We'll continue this harvest for more milennia and yet no time at all. And it'll be quicker now. I know what moves did not work this time. And you will die as soon as your job here is done, as you are merely a man. And if we fail in the next cycle...well, we'll do it again." he winked.

"Don't listen to him, Aleister." Richard urged. "Just continue on your path."

Crowley glared at Oberon. Then he paused, as if he were thinking to himself. "You would have a point. But I have a contingency plan for that."

Oberon's face took on a confused aspect. The headmaster opposing him said one last thing. "Thank you for everything, Richard." Then Crowley kicked Oberon off Leviathan's corpse, roaring. Out of one hand, he blasted more souls after him. With the other, he concentrated and focused on reforming the universe...his universe...

"No matter what happens, you all quite literally mean the world to me." Crowley whispered as souls burst out of his body, streaming out of every pore, as he focused on recreating continents and Hell and every detail of every place. It was going to happen. It would happen...

---

Oberon flew into the void, floundering briefly for something to surface on when he exploded souls out of his body, remaking Fae soldiers and warriors and soul dragons. He began to laugh out loud triumphantly, quite pleased with himself. "We've been set back." he state, standing up on a small moon he created for himself, gesturing to his obvious wounds and wincing, Richard still fighting him from the inside and preventing him from healing. "But we'll recover, understood? We'll make more of ourselves. And we'll come back toward our goal. The Harbinger will die after he finishes remaking the Omniverse. We now know where the Tree is, and where it will form." he stated. "Getting to the stage we were at will not take long."

Then gunfire broke out, and Oberon was very, very surprised. He ducked. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.
This is not…the end…
Overwhelming gunfire now. As Oberon created Fae, they were shot down by these assassins. Looking up in amazement, he saw angels. Mechanical angels. Androids. Oberon reflected on the irony of creatures based off the Fae now slaughtering them, but he had larger concerns. He could wipe the floor with these beings – he was still the strongest being in the Omniverse, after all.

That’s when he doubled over, kicked by Richard. “No.” came out of his mouth. “No. You can’t dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” Richard ordered his brother. He had kept his personality separate, not assimilating into Oberon’s and returning to their original persona. No. He had some unfinished work to do here. As he saw the Androids descend, he knew who their leader would be. He had one final goodbye.

“Son.”

“Father.” Came the response as Uriel landed down on the ground. “Hello.”

“For the first time in a long time.” Richard replied with a wry smile. “You’ve been busy. I had guessed you had survived after you went through the vortex…after all, your brother did. And in your own way you aren’t any less than him.”

Uriel’s face didn’t soften. He remained serious and focused, accepting the compliment as a fact. He pulled out a knife, walking closer to Oberon. His face remained sincere and calm, Richard accepting his fate. Then Oberon took control again, and his face contorted into that of an animal approaching death – fear and rage mixed together as he struggled against the invisible chains put on him – the remaining Fae were busy fighting off the Androids, unable to respond to their master’s wishes.

“No! No! You cannot kill me!” he roared. “Would you really kill your father with me, the father you sought so hard to emulate? Would you kill me, your only reason for existence, the enemy you strived to fight? I WILL NOT DIE! NOT WHILE THERE IS STILL BREATH, WHILE THERE IS STILL-” Knife was placed to the throat. The knife slid across the throat. Oberon grabbed his throat, blood gushing out. He tried to heal, but Richard had blocked him from doing so. His time was done.

Oberon grabbed Uriel’s hand, whimpering. And thus the king of the Fae died – killed by his nephew as his brother held him back, whimpering and raging his way into the arms of Death. And Death had quite a few things to say…

Uriel held the bloodied knife up, turning to the Fae who remained. “King Oberon is dead! His war is dead! Surrender and flee in peace…” he paused. “Or fight me and die.”

The Fae fled. The remaining Androids, who survived the battle and were not absorbed into side corridors that led off into other worlds, came to Uriel’s side. They watched their leader with respect and some fear – they had abandoned him for dead, after all.

“You live, sir.” One said.

“Yes.” Uriel replied, smiling slightly, looking at his knife. “I do. I do live. And I intend to continue that. Our mission is not over. Lucifer has saved the world. The Fae are shattered now, broken. We have a new mission – to destroy them completely. Wipe them from existence. The job is accomplishable now. And we will protect the world from any other outside threats.”

He looked out into the void, standing on cool ground. “There’s a large Omniverse out there. And stories never end. We will do our part to protect it. My task is not yet complete.” He looked at the knife again, and at Oberon’s corpse, his face frozen in fear and rage, eyes bulging. “But we’ve made some strides.”

Uriel knelt down, closing Oberon’s eyes. Closing Richard’s eyes. God’s eyes. Wasn’t that an irony? He protected his father’s legacy for so long, yet he was the one to ultimately kill him. In another man, there would be sentimentality. But Uriel outgrown that. He had accepted he would need to do whatever necessary.

But he had done some unforgivable things in his efforts to save the Omniverse and study to fight the Fae, he acknowledged now. Lucifer had managed to find a solution that was better. “I had made mistakes.” He said out loud. “One does not build cities if one is guided by doubt. But no one could do everything in absolute certainty. I know my beliefs and work elevated me as I know the things I rejected would have destroyed me. But I had become so convinced by my own beliefs that I had stopped seeing the truth. Or the best path. I need to make amends for that.”

One Android looked confused. “My Lord…you are the one who grants forgiveness. You and God. And now God is dead. Truly and completely.”

“And I need to grant myself forgiveness.” Uriel murmured. “My children. Come. We have to watch the worlds. And you must watch me.”

“Why, my Lord?” the Android asked robotically.

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodies.” Replied Uriel, opening a portal. “Fae are out there. And other dangers. Let us go hunt.”

---

Crowley had hoped that Oberon enjoyed his little surprise. And he felt something change in the world. Things becoming brighter. He had hopes. But for now…for now, he was working on just surviving. The world was being built up from the ground up. Slowly, but surely...He whispered to himself. "This is not...the end..." he said. These words would be heard by everyone when they awoke, to encourage them, to guide them. They had more time. Finally, they all had more time.

Norfolk.

Crowley felt it when he awoke. He was in Norfolk. He smelt that country air, and instantly felt more white. It had worked. He almost burst out laughing. It had all worked out alright.

Everyone who had been alive when the last Gotterdammerung had occurred would be back alive - he had managed to reverse things enough for that. That meant Michael, Fred, Caspian...of course, people who had died sooner would not be alive.

The ghosts would hang around for a time, before they decided to move on. That was his back door, in case he decided to be a coward. But no. He wouldn't do that.

---

"We're back alive." ex-President Eastwood said in a tone of wonder, looking around the ruins and wreckage of the White House. It had been heavily damaged by the attack from the Fae originally, before the universe had been destroyed. But they would rebuild now. They had hope. And they were here.

Ex-Vice President Nicholson dragged himself off the ground, coughing and wounded, but alive. "Shit. Was that...was that entire rebuilding of the universe a bad dream?"

Eastwood paused. He was growing old, but the memories of that was already fading, becoming unreliable memories. Soon they would be gone, unless he made an active effort to remember. The same would apply for everyone else in the world who had "woken up". He grabbed Nicholson, his arm on his friend's shoulder. He held him in a passionate kiss. "It's fine." he said. "It was real, but we're back. Come now, Jack. America needs help. She needs us. Let's give her more time. This victory belongs to each of us. A future paid for by the sacrifices of those who fought and died alongside us. As we take our first steps to restoring what was lost, remember what it took to win. Just make sure the lessons learned in this war don't die alongside those who fought to win it."

---

"We're alive." noted John Oliver, sitting next to Andy Zaltzman. "I told you we shouldn't have done a gig in Leicester seeing what happened here before, but I never expected the world to (bleep)ing end because of it!" John said, in near tears. "AND WHY WAS THERE A BLEEP? (BLEEP) YOU CHRIS!"

Outside, a young British Indian couple kissed and hugged, just thrilled to be alive. The man got on one knee and asked a question. The woman said yes.

The TARDIS materialised briefly in Leicester, and Peter Cushing poked his head out, as did an Indian man. Cushing frowned. "Seems we came a bit late. Things seem to be mostly fixed here...well, as fixed as they can get in Leicester." he said as the TARDIS doors closed and the box disappeared.

---

Crowley stood up, in the Elfen High cafeteria, which was now repaired. He stumbled and staggered. "Hello, everyone." he said. He looked healed. He looked fine. He seemed fine, he sounded fine. But he had the smile of a dead man, and his eyes seemed resigned and peaceful. "Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We've gotten everything fixed. And soon I'll leave you to it." he smiled, seeing Laz and the ghost of Pierre walk up from the basement, listening to his speech. "I've had enough time. Time to appoint some successors." he snapped his fingers. "William. You're the new headmaster. Gwen, your universe waits for you, mostly healed. Ghosts…" here he looked particularly at Pierre. “I recommend saying your goodbyes and moving on. Take as long as you need. But moving on would be best for you.”

He wiped away some sweat from his brow. "There are other things to deal with." he noted. "Oberon is out there, though I've dispatched some people to deal with him...the Fae should be scattered now. I've tried my best to set up some things to allow for transition..." his voice trailed off. "Fuck, man. This started as my fake funeral, can you remember? A funeral and a play." he sat down, laughing. “We had a hell of a ride, didn’t we all? Can someone get me a cuppa?” If he was going to go out, he would have some goddamn tea.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

It was quiet in the Jameson household. This was never a good thing.

It was a quaint place just west of Welles-next-the-Sea in which the family had lived back when all of them had lived. But they had moved, and it had been sold; though that did not mean every Jameson had left, simply that none of them lived there anymore.

Lewis tapped his fingers against the table nervously.

Tap-tap.

The clock accompanied him.

Click, click.

Death sipped his tea. Lewis sipped his beer.

"Ye' know that song with the cat and the spoon?" Lewis said.

YOU DO KNOW, the End-Of-All-Things sighed THAT YOU HAVE TO COME WITH ME EVENTUALLY? YOU'LL ONLY PISS ME OFF BY STALLING.

"Everything must die," Lewis mused, "but I don't particularly feel like it."

I BELIEVE THE EARTH EXPRESSION IS "SUCK IT UP"? said Death.

"Way I see it," Lewis said, "ye' still owe me that second life."

Death smiled bitterly, IN THOSE SPECIFIC INSTANCES, RULES WERE BENT.

"They've been bent since."

AND THEY SHALL VERY LIKELY BE BENT MANY TIMES AGAIN IN THE FUTURE.

"Do me a favor," Lewis said, "bend them again. For me. For her."

HER SOUL HAS MOVED ON. NOT EVEN I CAN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOW.

"Lots of souls move on - but not all of 'em get used up right away."

THIS IS TRUE.

"Then ye' can help me."

AND WHY SHOULD I?

Lewis sniffed, "Because I just saved your ass, for the nth time. Because, if ye' do this, I won't ever bother ye' again. And because I'm lucky."

---

"-but what I think is really so great about Kent," Mr. Buddha said, "is just how well he understands nature."

"I still like Yeats," D shrugged, "Maybe I'm just naturally apocalyptic."

The two stopped at a door labeled "CONFERENCE ROOM"; a room that had only last year been broken into by an insane robotic angel and turned into the site of slaughter. Now it hosted bands of stuffy old men - like Mr. Buddha - discussing the finer points of business management over coffee and donuts. Law and order had been restored.

"How long has it been since the war's end?" D asked.

"About nine months," Mr. Buddha answered.

"Ah, so that's what that call was. I'm afraid this is where I leave you then, Ranatunga. I've got places to be."

"Oh! Well, goodbye then, Mr. Jameson."

D continued down the hall into an elevator; he stopped in the door and twisted around.

"And before I forget - I quit."

Mr. Buddha's face fell, "What?"

"I quit," D repeated with a bright smile, "Tell the others that. Dodge anything Daisuke throws at you."

"But-"

"See ya'!"

The door closed.

---

Megan lay in a hospital bed, dazed and exhausted. D held her hand tenderly and smiled at her; she grimaced.

"Don't ever let me do that again," she said.

"I don't really want to get involved," D replied, "You're my mother."

A nurse opened the door and entered, walking quietly. She shushed the two softly and approached Megan, handing her a bundle of blankets.

"It's a girl," she offered.

"I got an ultrasound," Megan said, "I'm not an idiot."

"Mother," D said.

The nurse smiled, "It's perfectly alright - your mother is tired. What's her name?"

"I haven't decided," Megan said, "I'm not really sure... though I suppose I have an idea. How's... 'Hope'?"

Hope's eyes fluttered open. Yes, she liked that; "Hope". It was a good name. She could let go of the old one now - and all the pain that came with it. "Hope". She quite liked it.

Megan smiled at her daughter, the unexpected birth. To be honest - and she told no one this - she couldn't even remember the conception. Megan was not one to believe in miracles, so she simply assumed she had been drunk; Megan was wrong, but Death had seen no need to tell her that. He didn't particularly want to see a repeat of that business with a cross.

Megan began to sing Hope a song.

---

"It's all sevens and threes," Aziraphale said with his usual fascination, "I mean, Seven Sins, Seven Virtues, Seven Dwarfs, Three Bears, Rule of Three, the Trinity. All that stuff. Seven archangels. Maybe. Enoch says so."

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Enoch," Aziraphale replied, "The Book of. The Bible. Ever read it? Terribly interesting. They got a lot of things wrong."

D sighed, "There are many books they tell me I should have read, and I never will."

"It's not too late, you know," the angel said, "You are, after all, in a library."

D rested his weight on his cane and looked about, "Yes, quite a library. This is your old one?" It was labrynthine - the shelves were taller than most houses and the hallways as large as some highways.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, "...The cane? Couldn't you..."

"I asked the same of Daisuke once and he said that wasn't the point," D said, "I didn't understand for a long time, and now I do. Back to the question."

"Well... to an extent," Aziraphale said, "It started that way, but we salvaged as many books as we could from Lucifer's, and the school was willing to donate quite a few - it seems nobody ever uses them there. And, anyways, it was never and still isn't really 'mine'; it belongs to Heavensgate and Lord Calliel."

"Would you like it to be yours?"

There was a pause.

"I've bought the library from Calliel," D explained, "Call me racist, but I don't exactly trust leaving the largest physical compendium of information in the hands of an angel overlord just yet. Besides, this way, I can start copying this stuff onto the Internet."

Aziraphale nodded, "I know all that - it is why I have called you here today. You see, I've grown quite a bit over the years, and I no longer think I want to spend my life attending this place..."

"You're going to Purgatory too?" D asked. After Uriel's fall, those who died in Heaven were no longer held back from their second lives; which lead, naturally, to a massive population boom even Hell had some difficultly handling. Thus, after months of work from the world's leading magical minds (and, D would like to note, Taka-Jameson), they were able to reroute Heaven's dead to Purgatory; a new frontier in a world rapidly running out of them. And a world far from Earth.

"I have a duty," Aziraphale said, "When I was young, they took me before a statue of Lailah, and they made swear an oath - to protect Heaven and her children. I lied a lot in that church, but not then. If you want to purchase this library, I'm afraid you'll need a new librarian."

D looked up a shelf of biological encyclopedias and scratched his beard, "Yes, I think I know just the women."

---

D rested his head against his pillow and sighed; after months laying against a hard hospital bed, it felt good to be home.

He winced suddenly.

"Remember," the nurse said, adjusting the tube, "it's not too late."

"It's far too late," D replied, "I'd only piss Him off by stalling."

Megan squeezed his hand; he tried to reply in turn, but found himself incapable. Any doubts he had had were gone then.

Hope watched, not quite comprehending. Logically, she understood what was about to happen - it was a simple enough concept. Emotionally, she couldn't fathom it, nor even understand it was supposed to be sad. This was something beyond the reach of her young mind. That would bother her for the rest of her life, that she didn't cry that day.

"Whenever you're ready," the nurse sighed.

"Hope," D said, "you were singing a song before you came in."

"D..." Megan whispered.

"Sing it again."

Hope sang her brother to sleep.

---

The chatter, that was the part that had really surprised Aziraphale. People spoke so much before mass in these parts. It had never been like that when he was a child - though that wasn't the best standard. Of course, the conversation was never a problem; no one came to church for fun in Purgatory. They had seen too much.

His first year had been difficult. It seemed, without knowing, he had picked up something of an accent amongst the humans; but he had relearned his native tongue in his native accent, and now spoke nothing beside it. It was getting more and more difficult for him to remember any English, but this was not a concern for him. He was never going back to England, even if he did wish on the occasion that he could.

He cleared his throat. The chatter ended.

The dusty old books of his forefathers heavy in his arms, Aziraphale waddled his grayed and fattened body up to the podium, and smiled warmly down at the assemblage. They were a good flock. Purgatory was a good land, a young land.

"Today," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "my friends, we will be starting with a song you all know by now. Let's begin..."

---

Hope slid a book into place; what book, she wasn't sure. Long ago had the cover been lost. There was but one clue, and that was a message left to the original owner -

"Learn to read yet?

- M.K."

And that was all she wrote. Hope was bothered by that; by no means was this book great literature, but it still bothered her, a bit. Maybe it had meant something to someone, some small child somewhere.

Well, probably not. There were a lot of beer stains. And one that wasn't beer.

She sighed and stood up, something in her back popping. She was getting old, but this was a world of second chances. Something in her had always known that.

How did that song go?

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That sav'd a wretch like me...."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Ciel waited for an answer from the android, standing in front of it and crossing her arms in front of her chest, when she noticed with surprise that it was deactivated from inside. Naturally, she was confused, stunned even for a few moments, her eyes blinking rapidly as she wondered why that happened. Was it some sort of malfunction? No, probably not, Dai was a tad too smart for her to believe that an invention of his, one that seemed to be so important for all the duties he had no less, would spontaneously just fail like that. Then, did he do that on purpose? That was a little more believable, but only a little, as she was pretty sure he knew or at least had a good idea of what she was going to do to him when she eventually found where he was.

Of course, her mind couldn't go on much further than that, as she soon noticed the actual reason: Daisuke himself had gone up there and entered the cafeteria, likely not wanting to be part of the events taking place only through the body of a robot. Her first impulse was to run towards him, glad as she was to see him for real after the long struggle against the Fae, but she stopped herself before doing anything as she noticed a ghost approach him and engage in a conversation with him. She would have truly hated to interrupt something that seemed so important, and so, she opted to approach slowly and quietly, not disrupting the conversation.

And she was glad she had acted that way, as the conversation, she soon found, turned out to be very importat for Dai. She couldn't help having a smile creep onto her face as she listened to father and son talk to each other for the last time. It was something heartwarming to see, and as she stood by Daisuke's side she continued to listen, her amazement growing as she heard the request her boyfriend's father had made towards Crowley. Such a sacrifice was not one that could be decided on quickly, not even by the dead, or so she thought, and even then this man had done it without hesitation. Ciel didn't really have much experience with parental love, but at that moment she could see with complete understanding, without a shadow of doubt, that this man really did love his son.

When Minh addressed her, she took a moment to respond, slightly stunned by the display of altruism and affection she had just seen, but once she reacted, she nodded at the man and replied with a stoic "I will", not believing that more words were necessary for that. And then, she watched the sacrifice itself, and how Daisuke seemed finally able to walk afterwards. She watched, amazed, as he stood, having to look up at him, the real him, for the first time since she had met him. He looked down at her too as he spoke to her, and she saw the tears in his eyes, which caused her own to become wet with them as well. The scene had been a powerful one, and she was moved. Despite the apathy with which she naturally regarded most things that she didn't instantly regard with fury, she was deeply moved by what she had just seen.

"You can walk." She nodded at him, her emotion seeming a bit lacking for a moment. But then her simple smile turned into a big grin and she pulled Daisuke into a tight hug, leaning her head on his chest and very nearly lifting him off the ground. "You can walk!" She said excitedly, quickly pulling away and then lifting her boyfriend and carrying him on her shoulders. "It was about damn time!" She exclaimed with jubilation, laughing as she paraded him around the room for several moments before finally settling down and setting him on the ground again.

"I'm really happy for you, Dai." She said with sincerity. She wasn't entirely pleased, since he wouldn't be as easy to subdue later, but she was happy, quite happy for him. But then, she remembered what it was that she had wanted to talk to him about earlier, and her smile faded ever so slightly. She briefly brought up a balled fist near her mouth as she cleared her throat. "Anyway..." She looked around for a chair, spotting one nearby and grabbing it. "What I wanted to talk to you about..." She said as she brought it closer and sat on it. "Ah... you see... it's about my world." She confessed at last. "Crowley did a lot of things as the Harbinger, didn't he? Do you think he might have fixed that, too?" She asked, keeping her now conflicted emotions hidden under a mask.

Daisuke paused. "It's possible." he admitted. "Crowley." he turned to the man. "Is that possible?"

Crowley frowned, trying to remember. He had vague memories...memories of something scented with cannoli. Then he smiled. "Oh yes. Your world is out there, somewhere. I'm almost completely sure of it. But I'm afraid finding it might be an adventure. Crossing dimensions has changed a bit, and you'll need to be a bit more targeted. This was a safeguard to protect the world from having a similar instance as the events that have recently occurred."

Daisuke smiled, looking down at his girlfriend. "Alright then. We'll go look." he vowed. "We'll find your home and all your friends. If they're there. Then we'll maybe see about dividing our time, eh? Maybe between this world and yours. I'll figure out the whole dimensional mechanics behind this stuff." he said, letting his girlfriend go, his mind already wandering toward quantum equations and still astounded like a child as he slowly moved his legs, a legendary feeling.

---

Crowley took the coffee from Lewis' hands, smiling. "Thank you, friend." he said kindly, but also smiled when Lyra offered him tea as well. "Eh, fuck it, I'll drink both." he said, touching the glasses together and watching them merge into one larger glass, a combination of both coffee and tea yet not tasting like shit. Cooking was an oft underlooked skill of Crowley's, and one he wasn't going to be using much anymore.

He took a long sip. "We've come a long way." he said quietly. "Jesus Christ, we've come a long fucking way." he started crying a little, which moved into full tears as he hugged Damien back, setting his cup down on a nearby table. "You're welcome. And thank you too, Damien." he whispered in the other man's ear. "You're alive again. This is another chance for you." he told the boy he viewed sometimes as almost a son, but definitely always as a friend. "Take this chance by the fucking balls. Get the help you need to deal with some of your problems. Calm yourself down. Don't be like me and lead a long and lonely existence, racked by guilt."

He suddenly threw the bottle to the ground. "FUCK YOU!" he roared suddenly into the empty space. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE FUCK YOU!" he screamed at the only person in this pocket universe.

"Fuck me." he said sadly. He was alone. Alone with the ghosts. And the rage. And the hatred. And the misery.

Worthless life. Worthless bottle. Worthless Crowley.

He paused, thinking of this and other memories. But he was over it. Now he was alright, or as alright as a man could be.

Aleister Crowley felt at peace. "I don't regret my life." he said finally, reflectively. "Everything that happened to me, or everything I did...well, it all led to something ultimately. I've always been ready to die in a way, but..." he took another drink of his cup, letting go of Damien. "I guess now I'm the most alive I've been in a while. So in this circumstance I'm truly ready to die." he gave a half smile. "It's times like these where you know who your friends are."

He looked around. "I've had people like you picking me up and dusting me off when I've stumbled." he said sincerely. "I've lost count of all the times you've saved me. Thank you. I stand here today having done only my job as the Harbinger, a job I had run away from. But without a lot of you, even if your faith sometimes was tested or you only helped me out of selfishness...you helped regardless."

"Brother." Raphael said quietly, Michael standing by him.

Crowley looked up with a slight grin. "Just the fourth one missing." he noted. "Lucifer, Michael, Raphael...what will you do?" he asked. "What will happen to Heavensgate and the angels?"

Raphael sighed. "The gods are dead." he said quietly. "Almost all of them. A few minor gods survived, but they're not much to speak of. There will be chaos. And there will be need for transition. I'll aid in that. But...I'm surrendering my post. There is someone I feel who is competent enough to hold it though...Someone who understands humans, which all the angels now are. He can help transition us into this new world. A better world."

---

Elsewhere in Elfen High, Calliel stumbled. Before the universe had ended, he had had minor injuries, but they would be healed soon. He had some powers left despite no longer being an angel. And as someone who had had human desires for some time due to his love, he was less affected by the radical change than some others. His mental block had been removed a long time ago.

He looked at his face in a broken mirror shard and blinked in surprise. No. That was definitely here. A few grey hairs. He blinked in surprise. "Interesting." he said, his face the same as always, slight confusion.

"Calliel?" asked a female voice, sounding uncertain.

He turned.

He laughed in delight. "Amazing." he chuckled. Then he leaned against a wall, and Calliel just laughed and laughed hysterically, allowing emotion to escape. As a former android, he was now able to tell if someone was one. And now the figure standing in front of the future leader of Heavensgate was very much largely human, having travelled a long and confusing journey across the Omniverse as Crowley had rebuilt it. It was an odd story, but odd stories were everywhere. But sometimes odd stories can have a happy ending.

"Ivy." he said.

---

"Calliel is a good choice." Crowley agreed. "I left a present for him. He does deserve it." he took a breath. "I hope everyone here is ready for whatever comes next. It won't be anything like we had, but...it'll be a transition." he said, petting Fluffy Hitler Lucifer II absentmindedly, and peering up at the bears who had arrived. "Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at the dawn of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. I helped write those lines once, you know."

"I believe it." Sanchez said quietly. "You won this victory. And a lot more." he knelt down before Crowley. "I'm not ready for what I'm doing." he admitted. "But you are. And you are justified to hate me."

Once, Crowley would have embraced this. He would have laughed and rubbed this in. But right now he just shrugged and smiled. "I don't hate you, Rick." he said. The Puerto Rican looked up in astonishment. "You're not worth hatred." he said, not unkindly. "You need help, Rick. Take it. Build your life back up. The ISSR will continue without you. But you do have some worth. Try to use it."

Sanchez blinked in some surprise, edging backwards. "Alright, Aleister." he said slowly, sounding almost confused by this kindness. It was very evidently not what he expected. And he likely wouldn't have engaged in the same kindness were the situation reversed.

Crowley shrugged, finishing the coffee/tea hybrid. "Well, I'm going to die. No sense in letting you destroy yourself if I can't watch it." he said, but kept his tone light and very obviously sarcastic. The words were mean but the intent was very obviously not.

He put down the empty cup and stood up. "So, my body. Blast it into space. Let it explore the cosmos. Maybe throw a camera on it, let the discoveries get back here. It's better than just letting it rot in the ground, hmm?"

The old wizard looked down at his form, which was glowing with blue light. "HAL?" Crowley spoke out. "Soundtrack."

Guess I got what I deserved...kept you waiting there too long, my love.

"You're going home, Aleister." said a loving voice. Crowley reached out and grabbed Leah's hand, his face at peace.

"You want to go by a different name?" asked an annoyed looking occultist.

"Fuck off, Edward." Crowley replied to the ghost. He nodded at William. "Hey. Keep a watch on this place, right? It's the thing I most care about."

Consider that mutual. said a rumbling, thought dead voice.

All that time without a word
Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget or I'd regret
The special love I had for you, my baby blue

Crowley looked up, astonished. "You're alive?" he asked the creature that was once called Behemoth, before it was turned into the school.

I was...rebooted when you remade the universe. the school explained. I was always alive in a sense. But now I can communicate, yes. And I will keep everyone within me safe, and obey Headmaster Nilark.

All the days became so long
Did you really think, I'd do you wrong?
Dixie, when I let you go
Thought you'd realize that I would know
I would show the special love I have for you, my baby blue

"No rampages?" Crowley questioned. The last thing they needed was a creature that would kill everyone within it. But he reached out to feel the school's intentions, and found them benevolent and honest.

No. Maybe twenty years ago. But no more. No more pain if I can help it. Headmaster, I have lived as a school for years now. I have seen battles rage inside me, I have seen the worst of man. But I have also seen his best. I have seen hope. I have seen joy. I have seen war, yes, but I have also seen peace and I've seen people trying to improve and redeem themselves. As a dragon, long ago, I committed atrocities under the name of Leviathan.

"Leviathan's dead now." said Laz. "Right?"

Yes. It's a new world. A world I hope to help protect, serving the new headmaster. The omnipresent voice seemed now to speak to William alone. I am yours to command, my lord.

Crowley smiled. "Alright. I'll leave this all to you now." He let go of Leah's hand. "I think I'm going to go on a walk." he explained. "Maybe get some last minute work done. Don't wait up." He snapped his fingers and a disco ball appeared in the air. "The world was just saved. Celebrate it, and celebrate Mr. Nilark on his new job."

What can I do, what can I say
Except I want you by my side
How can I show you, show me the way
Don't you know the times I've tried?

The headmaster walked outside, smelling the air. It was all over now. His work was done.

He gazed out into the distance, seeing fire, but also seeing the firefighters putting it out. The world would recover. It always did. And he was sure that his friends would make sure it stayed that way.

He looked out in the sky now, but blinked. Now there was something different seen. He saw the souls of the world, a bathing of blue everywhere. The Omniverse was built off souls, mixing and mingling. And now he would join them, another spark of light in the mist.

Guess that's all I have to say
Except the feeling just grows stronger every day

When they went outside into Elfen High's graveyard, they would find Crowley sitting criss-cross in the centre, peaceful, as if he were meditating.

Then, when they felt his wrist, they would see there was no pulse.

A great man had died. That was obvious. It had always been obvious. But to surprise, so had a good one. To even greater surprise, he would be missed.


Just one thing before I go
Take good care, baby, let me know, let it grow
The special love you have for me, my Dixie, dear.

[Alleniana]

First entry; Senkaku's MiM2.1 Chinese intrigue arc. More similar stuff in MiM2.2, but not quoted here due to space/time constraints, and less intrigueyness and more war planning/economics, which I suspect are less interesting/engaging.

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter One: Back in Beijing

---

January 28th, 1921
(Image)
The Forbidden City, Beijing

---

Beijing
The Summer Palace
Hall of Happiness and Longevity



Cixi sighed, tilting her head slightly to look in the mirror. It takes so much longer these days. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she stood, brushing a few stray hairs back.
I swear those tailors have started filling my clothes with lead. She straightened a few creases, twisted an earring slightly, and took a deep breath.

Time to go get 'em.
"Steward!"
The voice drifted in from outside the door, shaky and uneven. Her new steward was a nice enough young man- but he was very young, no older than fifteen, a boy from Shaanxi who had come to Beijing an orphan and had been working as a member of Prince Chun's household when her old steward had died. He had been elevated partly out of chance, and partly because he was exceptionally dutiful- and cheap, too.
"How may I be of service, august lady?"
"Come in here with my tea and medicines. Honestly, you needn't wait out there all of the time."
"Yes, your highness." Liu hurried in, carrying a pot of tea, a porcelain cup, and several pills on an elaborate silver tray. He swiftly poured her tea, then bowed deeply.
Cixi delicately lifted the tea, knocking back the pills swiftly. "Alright, Steward, that'll be all. Is my palanquin ready?"
"It awaits your pleasure, my lady. We also brought an automobile today, as Prince Chun asked, to convey you to the Forbidden City."
"Excellent. Walk me to it, would you?"
Liu swallowed, looking as uncomfortable as he usually did with this. Even after several months in her employ, the boy was still nervous about being asked to hold the arm of the Grand Empress Dowager. He did it, though- it wasn't as if she could walk very far on her own these days, even with her cane (which Cixi hated using).
He's nervous, but he definitely is shaping up to be a quality steward. I should have Zaifeng raise his salary. Liu slowly helped her down the front stairs and into the palanquin, and as she got in passed her a stack of memoranda sent from the Forbidden City. He motioned for it to set off, and Cixi left the curtains open as she reclined against the cushions and began to read the various documents Liu had given her.

A few minutes later, without realizing she had even been drowsing, she was jolted awake when the palanquin stopped, at the largest roadway within the Summer Palace. There was a black motor carriage - automobile, she corrected herself - waiting.
I forgot Liu said Zaifeng sent that. Oh well. We'll see how it is. Her attendants helped her down, taking the memoranda for her, but Cixi waved off her two guardsmen, Ayan and Bayan, when they approached to help her walk to the car. Leaning heavily on her cane, the Grand Empress Dowager slowly shuffled into the car, as Ayan opened the door for her. She sat down with a huff, taking the stack of papers from Bayan before he closed the door. The car set off, and Cixi suddenly smiled in almost girlish delight at its unique motion, anticipating the day at court and the fresh challenges it would bring.
I may be old, but I'm still better than anyone at this game.

---

Zhongnanhai
Hall of Purple Light



The whole group of them, the three regents and the Grand Council, were sitting around a huge teak table, its surface carved intricately in a map of China. Several months ago Zaifeng had decided to start using it and a number of white jade chess pieces to show the placement of all their various forces. Ebony pieces signified rebel troops in differing numbers, and Zaifeng had also scattered a number of maps and budgetary memoranda around the table. Cixi wasn't a huge fan of the messiness, but they were all good things to be able to reference as they made important decisions. There were other files, kept more neatly arranged, in the drawers behind them as well, and each person had their own stack of paper sitting next to them.
"As usual, let's start with a report from Grand Secretary An," Zaifeng said.
An Tai stood, bowing. "Thank you, my prince. The Ministry of Domestic Tranquility continues to be a tremendous boon to our efforts to keep routine administration of the Empire running, and based on our latest files, it would appear that a minor influx of new bureaucrats and some additional funding has hugely increased our efficiency. I also appreciate that we've been permitted to lean on the Army so much as of late, but it looks like we're beginning to head back towards being able to manage a civilian government. I think that the new practice of giving the head of the Grand Secretariat the senior presidency of the Board of Civil Appointments has, in this case, helped me streamline and accelerate the process, but once we have a solid government set up we should appoint a new senior president."
Everyone at the table nodded, a few people scribbling it down in their notes.
"President Tuan?," Zaifeng motioned for him to rise as the Grand Secretary bowed and sat.
"Of course, your highness. The Board of Finance, with the institution of an income tax, has seen a rise in our inflow, but it is not nearly as high as projected due to what I am fairly sure is mass tax evasion. However, as we once again have control over some of China's finest tea-producing areas, our tea monopoly is once again beginning to pull in large amounts of revenue. Unfortunately, the Republican policy of scorched earth has seriously damaged our salt industries, especially in Jiangsu and to a lesser extent in Yunnan. Based on latest reports, which are largely reliable, our overall income appears to be on track for a 32% increase over last year, which is extremely pleasing but still not where we would like it."
"President Sirin? What is the situation in the Board of Works?"
"We've been able to restart the construction of several rail lines, but it would take far more money than we're currently being allocated to be able to make real progress on this front. As it is, we've stopped much of our road repair work to build the new rail lines, and the nation's transportation system remains in tatters. I implore all of you that the Board of Works be given more funding to better enact the many momentously important programs we have been charged with. As it is, I have slashed my administration, lowered the pay of many of my skilled workers and remaining administrators, and impressed many coolie laborers, but we remain behind on all of our projects and progress remains slow. Our factory construction is proceeding very slowly, and I've already mentioned our issues in rail construction."
The Empress Dowager Longyu weighed in. "President Sirin has spoken to me about his concerns, and I have allocated around fifty percent of our naval budget to be given to the Board of Works unless there are any objections. The old battleship Zhenyuan, which was scuttled at Weihaiwei, has also been selected as a viable ship for scrapping, to help fund the new factories in Taiyuan we have been working on for so long and which have been some of the biggest victims of our fiscal issues."
Not even the President of the Board of War, Wu Shen, spoke up. There was no point. Even if Longyu didn't remove half of its funding, the Chinese navy was a complete joke that would be totally useless in any armed conflict. The Army's river and coastal patrol craft could probably outrun, outfight, and outmaneuver every ship in the Chinese fleet. The fleet's flagship was just the old "battleship" Dingyuan, which had been refloated after Weihaiwei to continue her service. Built in the 1880s, the ship had not left port in seven years, and the last time she had had been an attempt by her skeleton crew to mutiny and join the rebellion.
Needless to say, everyone agreed that the Navy's funding would be put to far better use by the Board of Works.
Sirin continued. "However, even with her imperial highness's tremendous generosity, I feel the Board of Works does not have sufficient funding to enact with any sort of expediency the projects we have been tasked with."
Acigecalr Ulhicun, the President of the Board of Punishments, spoke up. "I believe there have been a number of successful trials of using convicts as Board of Works labor since our meeting last month where Yelu raised some of these same concerns. Why not expand this program? With the aid of the Army and the Ministry of Domestic Tranquility, we could greatly expand the Board of Works' labor pool without greatly increasing costs, especially if they are not given full rations."
Sirin Yelu nodded. "I would support this, though we would need support from Minister Hūlun and President Wu."
Hūlun, the Minister of Domestic Tranquility, and Wu, the President of the Board of War, both nodded their accession.
Prince Chun, looking slightly irritated, continued. "President Wu, can we get a briefing from the Board of War?"
"Of course, illustrious lord. As you are all doubtless aware, the Army is this government's first priority, and takes up the bulk of our funding. With over eleven million personnel, it could not be otherwise. However, with the cessation of hostilities against the Republican rebels, we've actually seen improvements in morale, and we've been able to better allocate our increased funding amongst our paid troops. This has included some reforms, which I've discussed at length over our last several meetings, such as the concentration of our best troops, such as experienced New Army forces, and our worst, such as our conscripted musketeers. We've also been continuing with our paced demobilization, with the goal of getting rid of around a million troops over the next two years. I don't really have anything new to report, besides that the Air Force continues to be very promising despite the lack of funds for the newest aircraft and maintenance, and that we've gone ahead and cut the remaining naval funding by another fifty percent for the Air Force."
Zaifeng opened his mouth to speak, but a somewhat faint voice came from the other side of the table.
Cixi was quiet, but her voice had an air of command that seemed to completely silence the room.
"Senior President Ping, of the Board of Rites, sent me a message saying he was indisposed and could not be here today. I'm sure you all got the memorandum as well, but he asked me to discuss some of his foreign policy ideas. I have my own thoughts on them, but I'll go over them briefly. In short, partly because of their recent troop movements and actions against Korea, and partly because of their success in modernization, Senior President Ping wants to reach out to the Japanese to see if we can reach some sort of arrangement with them."
Longyu looked surprised, as did Prince Chun, but Sirin was all over the idea.
"That would be fantastic! Receiving aid and expertise from a real Asian success story would go a long ways towards alleviating the strain on my department."
Cixi's voice carried a hint of acid as she stemmed his enthusiasm. "I think he merely wants a treaty to ensure they don't invade us. Which I would support- we can't deal with another war against anyone, certainly not the Japanese."
Longyu nodded. "And if we have a treaty, they may break it anyways- but then we have the world's support against the treaty-breaking Japs."
"Oh, they'll find a way to pin it on us," Zaifeng said sourly, "and then we'll be really fucked."
Cixi sighed. "Look, President Ping just wants to reach out to the Japanese to begin to see if a treaty of any sort would be possible. i think we should hope for the best and plan for the worst, which we've already been doing, according to this memorandum I got from the Board of War this morning. It would be helpful to let us know before, Shen, when you move three New Armies, a large chunk of the Manchu Bordered Blue Banner, and a number of airplanes."
"I apologize most profusely, august empress. I assumed-"
"Yes, you did. Fortunately it was a prudent decision, even if you didn't make us aware of it. We must both reach out to Japan, and also be prepared if they reject us. I think we should start going over the wording..."

---

(Image)

---

大清帝国的正式公报
Official Diplomatic Communiqué of the Empire of the Great Qing

---

Addressed to: to whom it may concern in the Government of the State of Japan

---

Greetings, sirs, from the Empire of China. We hope this telegram finds you in good health. On behalf of the Empire, the Regency, and the Board of Rites, we write to you today in pursuit of international cooperation, regional tranquility, and a new era of blossoming Sino-Japanese relations. Too often over the last few decades have China and Japan fought, causing great disturbances in the region and great economic difficulty. Today we seek to inquire as to whether or not the illustrious State of Japan would be interested in joining China in seeking for a final resolution to our ills, perhaps in the form of a treaty that will bring our two peoples nearer. We seek only the best for the people of China and Japan, and hope you will join us in our diplomatic exercise.

Yours,

Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu, Empress Xiaodingjing, 葉赫那拉靜芬

---

POST SUMMARY:


-Chinese forces move into Manchuria, near but not directly on the Korean border.
-Chinese naval funding has been slashed to provide extra money for the Air Force and the Board of Works.
-The old battleship Zhenyuan, scuttled at Weihaiwei, is being raised to be scrapped to help pay for a Board of Works project.
-Convicts are beginning to be used in much larger-scale labor projects by the Board of Works, as are Green Standard Army troops.
-Government revenue in China is steadily increasing.
-China has reached out to Japan.
-The Red Terror continues.

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter Two: The Phoenix

---

January 29th, 1921
(Image)

Tiananmen Square, Beijing

---

Beijing
Zhongnanhai
Pavilion of the Water and Cloud

---

"Cixi sent a letter ahead. She'll be along later."
"Did she fall again or something?"
"Her steward added a note saying she wasn't feeling well but thought she could come later."
Empress Dowager Longyu bit her lip. "Hopefully it's not too serious."
"I think she should be fine," Zaifeng said with a shrug. "I got a report from Weihaiwei; they've begun to raise the Zhenyuan."
"Frankly, I doubt we'll be able to even make more money off of her than we've spent raising her."
"I got a price appraisal before I approved it. It'll be a fairly slim margin, but it's enough to make some major progress on the Taiyuan factories, which will be helpful."
"Mmmm. I received a report from the Admiralty Board."
"Oh? I thought they didn't really do anything these days."
"Yeah, so did I. No, apparently they've been working mostly on strategic analysis for the Army, since they have nothing to do. It was a plan for defending the coast."
"Interesting. What did you think?"
"It was very realistic and very efficient. I'm hardly a military expert, but it seemed like it was well-planned and could be quite effective, if somewhat embarrassing."
"Embarrassing?"
"It basically goes as follows. We strip our large navy ships and some freighters of guns, engines, et cetera. We sink them in the entrances to any ports that we want to better defend, to act as barriers, and then we set up shore batteries and land defenses along the coastline, with the occasional torpedo boat squadron scattered around."
"Didn't they suggest something like that three years ago?"
"Hmmm... Oh, no, that was just when they took out one of the Dingyuan's engines and re-purposed it for a factory, in Jinan. They took off one of her main guns, too, for the Army's siege of Shantou. I think it'd be something similar, except with all our ships."
"Oh, I remember. I really do think we should scrap her too."
"Perhaps. For now it's useful to keep her around, I would argue, given the other bit included in the memorandum."
"Oh?"
"They want to start building submarines."
"Submarines? That's absolutely absurd. With what money? Have they found a mountain of silver out near Weihaiwei and neglected to inform us? I doubt we could even buy a submarine, much less build our own."
"Actually, they'd be more like submersible torpedo boats. I read the plans, they're quite intriguing. Basically, using steel stripped from the wreck of the Laiyuan and leftover framing that we weren't able to sell off from the wrecks of some other ships we raised from Weihaiwei, they want to create a large torpedo boat tender. The torpedo boats will be fairly normal, except they won't carry any deck guns or anything and they'll be a little oddly shaped, so they can submerge. Their budgeting looked realistic and manageable, and they want to manufacture some of these submarine-torpedo boats to deploy to other ports as well."
"This sounds like a fantasy."
"It's not. You can go over it as well, but I think it could have real potential. We should talk to Zhang Xun about it, he'll know. Anyways, they want to have these things fully operational in five years, so it'll be very gradual. I don't think it's anything to worry about."
"Fine. I'll look into it. I assume you didn't give full approval?"
"I told them they could start work on the tender and the boats that it'll carry."
"Of course you did," Zaifeng grumbled. "Fine. We still haven't heard back from the Japanese?"
"No. I did want to reach out to the British about this Grand Development Bank thing, though."
"Why? We have nothing to offer it."
"No, but it could be a handy way to make a little spare silver and perhaps speed up some of our industrial development. I was considering mandating that Taiyuan become a foreign investment zone for this sort of thing, to help the factory project."
"The factory project is probably doomed. Sirin thinks one of his vice presidents is skimming off the top, though he's not sure who."
"Have them all executed," came a new voice, and the Empress Dowager and the Prince-Regent both turned, surprised. Cixi, leaning heavily on her cane, had appeared almost silently at the pavilion's entrance, wrapped in furs as a few snowflakes began drifting out of the iron-gray sky.
"That seems a little sweeping," Zaifeng said with a raised eyebrow.
Longyu shrugged. "We could just dismiss them. I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult for the Ministry to formulate something that might cause them to unfortunately be forced to resign and have their estates seized?"
Cixi smiled, sitting down. "I'm sure that could be arranged, and we could analyze their seized assets to find out who the rat was. I'll get on it."
"Good." Longyu smiled. "With revenue from this GDB and the foreign investment it may attract, I want to start setting up another industrial zone, but I need to consider viable cities."
Zaifeng sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, it can't be too near the coast, or to closed to foreigners, or too far from the capital, or too far from a river, or to small, or too open to foreigners-"
"Shut up and stop complaining, my lord prince," Cixi snapped. "I would suggest Chengdu or Xian off the top of my head, but I'm sure the Board of Works could come up with a list of good candidates."
"Very well. I'll have someone from the Board of Rites help me draft the message."

---

Nanjing
Xuanwu District



"Hurry! Ying, you take Zhao and Mei and go out the back."
"They're coming up the canal!," came a low, hushed call from the next room over. There were a few muffled sobs in the darkness, whispers traveling like hungry ghosts leering at them.
Ying gasped, taking Zhao's hand and dragging the little boy along behind her, Mei cradled, sleeping peacefully, in one arm. The young mother, wearing only slippers and a cheap cotton dress, tiptoed as carefully as she could, as quickly as she dared, down the rickety bamboo steps that led out the back of the building. She could see the torchs, the red uniforms flashing in the light-
"Freeze!"
They've seen me. Ying looked around in a panic for who had spotted her- then realized the voice had come from inside the building. She pulled Zhao and Mei close, huddling in the pool of shadow against its side as there were shouts and screams from inside.
"We are representatives of the Ministry of-" there was a loud crash, drowning out the rest of the officer's words, then more shouting and sobbing. Ying gulped. She could hear the Ministry boat in the canal just around the corner, heard a splash as someone tried to jump for it.

There was a loud pop, a gurgling scream from the canal, and then more shouts from inside the building.
If I don't run now, I'll never get another chance.
Ying, eyes set on her objective- less than fifty feet away, the alley- heaved up Zhao, put a finger over his lips and looked at him. Mei had been woken by the gunshot and was wide-eyed but silent.
Thank Heaven they're staying quiet.

Her children in her arms, Ying ran for it.
She didn't make it. There was another pop, and she felt a searing pain in her leg. She fell, screamed, almost let her children fall before landing on her back to cushion them. Mei began to cry, Zhao stood up, alarmed.
"Zhao, you take your little sister and run," Ying said, gasping urgently. "Don't go near anyone wearing red, you just run, okay? Go to uncle's house."
"Stop right there!"
"Zhao, run!", Ying screamed. The little four-year-old, lip trembling, scooped up his little sister and did as his mother told him to.
The Ministry man broke into a run. "Stop right there! You! Boy! Stop!" Zhao was already in the alley- and Ying saw the man reach for his gun.
"No, please, no," she sobbed desperately, scrabbling to try and rise on her good leg. There was a shot, but she heard it hit wood.

As the man ran past, she hurled herself at his legs, sending him sprawling, and clawed at his face and arms.
You're not taking my children, you red-coated gigolo.

There was a shot, a tremendous flash, and then blackness.

(Image)

---

大清帝国的正式公报
Official Diplomatic Communiqué of the Empire of the Great Qing

---

Addressed to: to whom it may concern in the Government of the United Kingdom

---

Greetings, sirs, from the Empire of China. We hope this telegram finds you in good health. On behalf of the Empire, the Regency, and the Board of Rites, we write to you today in pursuit of international cooperation, internal stability, and general prosperity. China has noted with interest the creation of the Grand Development Bank, and we admire both its goals and its potential. It was thus a source of great dismay and disappointment to the Regency that China, as a large and ancient Oriental power with a long history with Britain, was not invited to join this great new organization. The Chinese government feels that not only could membership greatly benefit China, but that China could be an ideal partner in such a venture. We hope the government of Britain and the GDB's leadership will consider our official request to join this great economic venture.

Yours,

Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu, Empress Xiaodingjing, 葉赫那拉靜芬

---

POST SUMMARY:

-China is beginning to build a few new torpedo boats at the Fuzhou Arsenal.
-Weihaiwei is practically a big ol' shipbreaking yard at this point as the Chinese start stripping a number of other sunken ships, some for scrap and others for a more myster.
-China wants into the GDB.
-Four senior Chinese bureaucrats, the vice-presidents of the Board of Works, have been dismissed, demoted, and their assets seized. One has been incarcerated by the Ministry of Domestic Tranquility under suspicion of corruption, and the assets of all four are being auctioned off by the government.
-The Red Terror continues.

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter Three: The Yellow Prince

---

(Image)
Tianman Gate, Beijing

---

Beijing
The Northern Residence




"That lying, manipulative, corrupt, dried-up daughter of a-"
"Zaifeng, please!" Youlan's face was drawn tight with anxiety. "You never know who is listening these-"
"I know perfectly well who's listening, woman. Cixi's little red birds don't fly around here."
"Zaifeng, this is the Grand Empress-Regent Dowager, she's powerful, she's respected, you really shouldn't-"
Zaifeng swore. "You idiot! Do you realize how much money this is? This could buy a dreadnought or an industrial park, and she's spent it on this fucking horseshit! And Longyu is helping her! It's unbelievable!"
Youlan's face went from anxious to annoyed, and she sighed heavily. "Well, if you're so angry, go do something about it. I'll just be sitting here, at home, wishing I could see our son, while you scheme and-"
Zaifeng, muttering darkly, stormed out of the room, as Youlan shouted after him.

---

Strange things were afoot in Beijing.

New Army and Bordered White Banner units appeared within the city, ordering Green Standard troops and Ministry redshirts to return to their homes. There were several altercations between the two parties, particularly between New Army units near Minister of Domestic Tranquility Hūlun's residence and its guards and Bordered White Banner squads near the Summer Palace clashing with the fusiliers and halberdiers who guarded its perimeter. Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu suddenly announced she would be retiring for rest and relaxation to the hunting palace in Jehol; Minister Hūlun suddenly had a pressing appointment with one of his vice-ministers in Tianjin. Prince Chun arrived unexpectedly at the Forbidden City, and, after a brief meeting with Marshal Zhang Xun, had the Emperor brought to Zhongnanhai along with himself.

On Prince Chun's orders, several units of the Bordered White Banner were sent into the Summer Palace to cordially invite and convey the Grand Empress-Regent Dowager to Zhongnanhai as well. Their entrance was not met with tremendous fanfare- rather, with gunfire from Cixi's guard units. A bloody skirmish ensued, the Grand Empress-Regent Dowager's guard was all but annihilated, and Cixi, though she had been preparing for her own trip to Jehol, accepted the invitation to Zhongnanhai. The matter of the skirmish was not brought up in the invitation's delivery.

---

Zhongnanhai
Hall of Purple Light



"Prince Chun." Cixi's voice was soft and sweet as she entered the room, supported by one of Zaifeng's guards. "I would like to mention to President Wu the uncouth conduct of the soldiers of the Bordered White Banner towards my household prior to their invitation for me to come here."
Zaifeng's voice lowered the room temperature by at least forty degrees. "What happened, my lady?"
Cixi's voice had lost all of its sweetness now. "They wounded my steward, killed my guards and some of my gardeners, and several of the maids were also raped or killed."
"Too bad. At least you'll be able to hire more with all the money you've been embezzling from the Taiyuan project."
Cixi sat, looking at him calmly. "Five million taels, was it? Yes, that should do."
"Try fifteen."
"Even better," she said acerbically.
"You are no longer a part of this administration. Neither is Longyu, for her part in this crime. You I will permit to retire to Jehol for the rest of your days. She will be charged with high treason and imperial slander, disowned, stripped of her titles, and executed."
Cixi slapped him, color rising in her cheeks. Zaifeng took it calmly, eyeing her with a hint of dark, schadenfreude pleasure, though her long nails had drawn blood. "I've never relished power the way you do," he said softly. "But I'm a far better person to be trusted with it."
Then he hit her back, full force, upside the head.

Cixi had never been tall or heavy, in her old age and frailty she was practically as light as a feather. Zaifeng's blow was sufficient to knock her chair over, sending the Grand Empress-Regent Dowager sprawling. It did not break any bones or knock out any teeth, but the blow and the impact of the fall and the sheer shock that he had actually hit her was sufficient to completely wind Cixi. She took a gasping breath, reaching for her cane to try and stand, grabbing the edge of the table- and instead accidentally tipping over a vase.
Zaifeng's voice was like the dull stamp of iron on jade. "That was a Tang dynasty piece. Absolutely irreplaceable. You insisted we not pawn it, that it was a treasure beyond worth. But you've broken it all the same. Much the same way that though you claim to love our nation, you've utterly destroyed it. I'm not angry just about the Taiyuan incident. I lay the blame for everything, for all the thousand thousand disasters that have befallen our once-mighty empire, at your door. Your constant lust for power and riches, your ineptitude for governance, your politicking and uneducated hatred of the West- you and the culture of corruption and deceit you've built, that is what is destroying China. You will never taste power or wealth again, Cixi. It's over. It's finally over."
He walked out of the room, shoes crunching on shards of shattered china, and called to the guards that the Grand Empress-Regent Dowager had fallen and required assistance.

---

Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu and Minister Hūlun were arrested later that day, by New Army forces under the personal direction of Zhang Xun. Hūlun attempted to escape, fight, and bribe his captors before his entourage was annihilated and he was successfully incarcerated.
Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu, on the other hand, took a more subtle route. Disguising herself as a peasant woman, she and a few of her guards and entourage began riding hard across Manchuria, evading Imperial patrols searching for her as she headed towards the Yehenara family's power base near Jilin.

Meanwhile, in Beijing, she was charged with high treason and imperial slander, disowned, and a warrant out out for her arrest, just after Cixi resigned the regency and left for retirement in Jehol. A hundred thousand taels of silver were put on Longyu's capture, even as she headed rapidly towards Jilin.
Just before Cixi left, the government sold several new palaces that had recently been constructed on her orders, scrapped several of her pleasure barges including one made entirely out of jade, and had Minister Hūlun executed on corruption charges.

Spring was going to come late, this year.

(Image)

---

大清帝国的正式公报
Official Diplomatic Communiqué of the Empire of the Great Qing

---

Addressed to: to whom it may concern in the Government of the Provisional All-Russian State

---

Greetings, gentlemen, from the Middle Kingdom. In light of the struggles the Russian people continue to undergo under the capable direction of Admiral Kolchak to free their fellow citizens from the Red menace in the west, China feels compelled to give aid to such a noble and deprived people. The Empire can offer grain, supplies, ports, and potentially even troops to the embattled Russian nation in this time of need. In addition to this, we feel it is now a perfect opportunity for a new and promising Russian regime to further prove its worthiness by righting a great wrong done to China under previous, less enlightened leadership- namely, the theft of Upper Manchuria by the former Russian Empire. We are quite certain that, especially in light of China's support for your moderate, sensible, and selfless regime, that the Provisional All-Russian government will be able to take a favorable view on correcting this terrible injustice and return Upper Manchuria to its rightful owners.


Yours,

Zaifeng, Prince-Regent Chun of the First Rank, 醇親王

(Image)

---

大清帝国的正式公报
Official Diplomatic Communiqué of the Empire of the Great Qing

---

Addressed to: to whom it may concern in the Government of the United Kingdom

---

This will be filled in when Hannover puts in the British reply to China's "gib moneyz plz?" message.


Yours,

Zaifeng, Prince-Regent Chun of the First Rank, 醇親王

---

POST SUMMARY:


-Zaifeng finds Cixi and Longyu have been skimming off the top of the Taiyuan project, not Sirin's Vice Presidents.
-Zaifeng forces both of them out of Beijing and Cixi resigns the regency. Longyu flees towards the Yehenara family power base, with a hundred thousand taels on her capture.
-Hūlun, Minister of Domestic Tranquility, has been executed and replaced by one of Zaifeng's loyalists.
-Massive sums of money have been confiscated from Cixi, Hūlun, and Longyu's estates.
-Cixi has gone into forced retirement at Jehol.
-Naval construction continues at Fuzhou, and the Taiyuan factory project is speeding up thanks to the new funding made available to it.
-The Red Terror continues, and now is even worse as the government is purged of officials Zaifeng suspects of being too loyal to Cixi or Longyu.

[Alleniana]

Part 2

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter Four: Heaven's Chessboard

---

(Image)
Chien-men Guardhouse, Beijing

---

Jehol
Yanbozhishuang Hall




So many memories... How ironic that I may die here, right where he did. That was cruel of Zaifeng- then again, I doubt he knows much about it.
Cixi sighed, looking around the room where her career had been born and where the Xianfeng Emperor had died. Her servants had cleared it out somewhat and removed many of the reminders of the dead emperor- but they couldn't remove all of them. The memorial inscription above the bed, the prayer scroll in the antechamber...

Or the old, faded peacock feather, still in the old Ming vase next to the bed. Cixi felt a little unsteady at the sight of it, her breath quavering as she reached back through the decades to that fateful night. On impulse, she walked slowly over to the bed, sat down.

The sheets were different, but the mattress was the same. She took a deep breath, running her hand along the heavy down blanket- and there was a call from outside.
"August lady, your unworthy servant wishes to inquire if he may enter?"
"Come in, Liu," she said heavily.
"General Jalar Ilušun, of the Manchu Bordered Red Banner, has arrived and urgently requests an audience with your radiance."
"Who else knows of this?"
"Myself, a few of your surviving household guard assigned to the western gate, and Deputy Steward Yuan."
Cixi didn't even look up. "Ensure that Deputy Steward Yuan does not speak to anyone about this. Send General Jalar to me, but do not allow him to be seen. Zaifeng has eyes throughout this household."
"Glorious empress, does your humble servant have permission to use... extreme... measures in such a circumstance?"
"Of course. Dismissed."
Liu bowed so deeply Cixi feared the stitches in his side he'd received after taking a bullet in the Summer Palace would tear, before straightening with a slight wince and hurrying out.

---

Jalar Ilušun was a tall man with broad shoulders. Despite his age- nearly sixty- the General had maintained an impressive physique beneath his winter riding uniform, which managed to swathe him so thoroughly that you could scarcely tell. He was still wearing his coat, his hat and beard flecked with snow from the light flurries that had been sweeping Jehol over the course of the day, and, though he was an aristocratic Manchu and a very intelligent man, Cixi thought he looked every inch the stereotypical steppe barbarian. Liu swiftly murmured to her that Deputy Steward Yuan had become seriously indisposed and was being tended to by her personal physician before presenting her to the general, who performed a partial kowtow before she bade him rise and enter the main living room. They both took a seat at a large mahogany table while Liu poured tea and fetched a few small snacks.
"So, General, what brings you to Jehol today?"
"You, glorious empress. It brings pain to me to see such a great woman retire from the Forbidden City and leave our young emperor, depriving him of her wise council."
Cixi smiled inwardly, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "Unfortunately I'm simply not sure there's anything I can do about that, General. My old bones need rest and my troubled mind some relent from the constant burden of the state. Prince Zaifeng supported my decision to leave the regency, and I feel as if I would be... placing a burden... on him, were I to even consider returning, especially when I am so devastated by the betrayal of my close friend the Empress-Regent Dowager Longyu."
Liu's glance flickered towards her- she couldn't quite read his expression- as he poured her another petit cup of steaming tea. The general nodded.
"Of course, great lady, it is not for me to presume to council you in such matters. I merely wished to advise you that I remain your loyal and ardent supporter and believe you could remain a priceless gem in aiding our young emperor as he takes his first steps into governance."
Cixi smiled, eyes glittering darkly. "Thank you, Lord Jalar. If that is all...?"
The man stood, bowing deeply. "I am greatly honored by your condescension in speaking with my unworthy self, your majesty. I must beg your permission to retire, to organize some of my men in preparation for coming events."
Cixi smiled warmly at him. "Lovely. Do stay in touch, Lord Jalar. Liu, show him out."

A few minutes later, Liu returned silently handed her a stack of letters, and left again.

---

Beijing
Zhongnanhai



Zaifeng sipped from the lovely silver flask, swallowing with a bitter, angry expression. The little flask had become a more and more trusty companion to the Prince-Regent as he took on more and more of the role of governing, without Longyu or Cixi to take some of the load, and today Zaifeng was leaving Zhongnanhai in a very bad mood, his face set in a scowl as he marched through the Xinhuamen. While the Taiyuan factories were back on track, there had been an accident at Weihaiwei- a major one. Zhenyuan had caught on fire, and while she had been saved, a large quantity of steel had been ruined and their profit margin slashed heavily. The Prince-Regent was also not looking forward to going home to his wife, who was hosting a dinner with the various ambassadors of other powers- the Japanese, the Germans, the Americans, the British- which would be tedious and probably embarrassing as his wife demonstrated her talent for languages while he was stuck with Chinese and Manchu. She was fluent already in English, her German was quite good, and her Japanese (so she said) was improving rapidly.
Zaifeng took another swig of his drink as the wind gusted insistently, looking around sullenly for his car. He noticed President Sirin and some of his guards moving towards another car and-
Damn, there's a piece of ass for you. He smiled a little, appreciating the curve of the woman's buttocks and breasts beneath her Western-style clothes- but she was clearly Manchurian.

As she climbed into Sirin's car after him, chatting politely with him, she caught his eye and threw him a smile before one of the guards closed the door for her, and the car sped off towards the Forbidden City.

---

Beijing
The Northern Residence



"I've told you time and again, we're not hiring another cook! We have a set stipend and it's absurdly high as it is! Make do, woman, you're one of the most privileged people in China," Zaifeng shouted, swearing darkly under his breath. Youlan's eyebrows rose.
"Excuse me? Is that how you talk to your wife now? I hope you'll be better behaved for the dinner, because-"
Zaifeng slapped her. "Fire the fucking cook, you worthless whore."
She inhaled so sharply he swore her nostrils touched, and- in an unprecedented move- hit him back, just as hard.
"Fuck off, my lord prince. I'm the Empress Mother, not your whore, and I'll hire who I damn well please." She turned to leave.
Zaifeng's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in fury. "What did you just say?"
She walked towards the door, unperturbed.
Zaifeng swept an arm across the table, knocking over plates, silver, candlesticks, and a vase, sending it all to shatter on the ground. He flipped the beautiful rosewood table with a mighty heave, sending everything to fall and smash and clatter against the floor. "What did you just say to me, woman?!", he bellowed, reeling.
Youlan stopped, did not turn around, taking a deep breath.
Zaifeng stepped around the table towards her. "YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY, do you understand?"
She turned around, high color standing out against her cheekbones. "You don't frighten me, Zaifeng."
Zaifeng looked at her, held her gaze for a long time, silent. "I should," he murmured.
"No, you shouldn't, and you shouldn't be micromanaging my running of our household," Youlan said, her voice beginning to rise, "and you shouldn't be smashing our good porcelain and you shouldn't be reeling drunk by late afternoon, and you shouldn't be my fucking husband and I fucking hate you and everything you've done to me and to our children, and I wish-"
He hit her again, harder, knocking her onto the table where she began to sob. Zaifeng himself staggered slightly after delivering the blow, breathing hard as he stared dully at his wife, laying down sobbing against the table amidst a blizzard of shattered porcelain.

Drunk as he was, Zaifeng found it oddly arousing, especially as his mind wandered to the girl he'd seen in Sirin's car...
Before he knew it, he was next to Youlan, sweeping away the ceramic shards, forcing her mouth to his, tearing open her dress...

Some minutes later, he finished, and, while she sobbed, semiconscious and naked amidst the shattered ruin of the dining room, he leaned against the table, drinking from his flask until he passed out and the flask fell from his hands to spill across the floor.

Dinner was cancelled, and a heavy snow came to Beijing that evening.

---

Beijing
The Forbidden City
Hall of Mental Cultivation



The Jiùzhǔ Emperor was reclining on his bed, wearing little in the way of clothing, reading through a stack of papers piled up next to his bed. He was fourteen, nearly fifteen, some might say a mere boy- but, as proven by the fact he was reading copies of the Grand Council memoranda of the day, he was quite precocious, and not just in his reading level. Aisin-Gioro Pujie was already showing every trait that could be desired for an emperor, developing quickly both physically and mentally. He was well-built, strong, extremely intelligent, and- perhaps most importantly- he was ambitious.

He was also, thanks to his father and the two Empresses Dowager, completely powerless.

He did not appreciate this.
There was a tap at the door.
"Radiant lord who outshines the sun, your most unworthy servant begs your leave to present your celestial majesty's great general, Zhang Xun. He awaits your pleasure in the entrance chamber."
Pujie sighed almost imperceptibly, setting down the various papers and hurriedly putting on a tunic. The building was kept stiflingly hot during cold weather, after his elder brother had died of pneumonia when they were both very young, but Pujie's power was so limited he could not even command that the building be kept a bit cooler. He opened his closet, grabbing the nearest, lightest tunic he could find and hurriedly putting it on, slipping into comfortable shoes before heading out into the hall and down towards the entry chamber. The servants all performed the kowtow immediately as soon as he entered their sight- he couldn't even tell them not to, despite the fact it still irritated him after years of being emperor.
Zhang Xun, the general who had saved the dynasty, crushing the Xinhai Rebellion and the Republicans, was waiting for him. Pujie took note of his long coat and fur collar, and that his mustache was still flecked with snowflakes.
I haven't been outside much today, I suppose. Xun kowtowed, as he was supposed to, while Pujie stood there impatiently, waiting for him to finish.
"Illustrious lord, your humble servant thanks you profusely for permitting him to enter your radiant presence," the man said, face pressed into the floor.
Pujie suppressed a sigh. "Rise, Marshal Zhang. What is it you wish to discuss with us?"
The general did not actually stand- he was taller than the emperor- but he did raise his head and torso from the ground to look upwards at him.
"Celestial prince, I bring my reply to the... Perhaps we should not discuss this here?"
Pujie frowned, turning around to stare at the servant girl in the corner, who remained prone, bowing towards him. "Leave us. Marshal Zhang and myself are not to be disturbed." The girl nearly tripped over herself in her haste to obey. Who is she? That ass is something. I'll ask the steward later.
"Now, Marshal Zhang...?"
"Your highness, I bring my reply to the letter you dispatched to me this morning."
"And?"
"My lord, you are not yet legally permitted to rule in your own right. The regency will rule for you until you achieve your majority and take on the full duties of the Dragon Throne. I cannot do otherwise, for it would be a disservice to yourself by forcing you to take on hardships you are not yet prepared for, and a dishonor upon this one, to betray his rightful commanders."
"Am I not numbered amongst them?"
"Sire, you are the rightful commander of all of China, but you cannot yet command me on the use of the realm's armies."
"And yet you have not reported my inquiry to the Prince-Regent."
"No, sire."
"Why not?"
Zhang Xun's eyes glittered as he made eye contact with the emperor. "Because, your majesty, I did feel there was some potential in your proposal and that, with some changes, I could at least consider how to enact it. Additionally, it would be rather to my detriment were it discovered the emperor had sought to use my unworthy self to overthrow his regency, but this one could stand to benefit were that plot successful."
Pujie smiled. "Shall we go upstairs then, general, and discuss this further?"
"I would be honored, oh august shepherd of the people."

---

Beijing
The Forbidden City
Palace of Heavenly Inheritance




Lady Sirin Yehonala, daughter of Senior President Sirin of the Board of Works, was staying up late, thinking and watching snow fall outside her window. Her father had gotten her a position in the emperor's household, as a serving girl, recently, and also her room in the Forbidden City, here. She had gotten some of today off, enough to see her father at Zhongnanhai and on her way back to the Hall of Mental Cultivation- and long enough to catch the eye, apparently, of the Prince-Regent.
Then she'd been in the same room as the emperor- spoken to directly by him!- and Marshal Zhang Xun, the empire's top army commander. She hadn't known he was coming, but to be in a room with two personages so illustrious, to be spoken to directly by the emperor himself...
Not that there was any point in his dismissal of her. She had known Zhang Xun was coming- and she could guess why. Her friend Yuan Kai, a member of the Admiralty Board that now handled analysis and planning and other esoteric things for the Army, had somehow found out about his visit. The Marshal was famously sensitive to the temperature of his tea, so Kai had made sure to tell her so she could inform the cooks and the chief steward- none of whom questioned how she was aware of the visit. Yehonala was a beautiful girl, nearly seventeen and quite eye-catching, and most assumed the emperor had told her in idleness after a meeting in the night.

Yehonala was also an ambitious girl with a nose for intrigue, and she was not going to be the one to spoil their assumptions. She had noticed the emperor staring at her, but things had gotten no farther than that- he certainly didn't know her name.
He will soon.

(Image)

---

大清帝国的正式公报
Official Diplomatic Communiqué of the Empire of the Great Qing

---

Addressed to: to whom it may concern in the Government of

---

This will be for someone, at some point. Don't know where, don't know when.


Yours,

Zaifeng, Prince-Regent Chun of the First Rank, 醇親王

---

POST SUMMARY:


Meet the cast of Game of Thrones the various people competing to become China's next primary ruler!
-Grand Empress-Regent Dowager Cixi, an old, experienced, worldly woman with an uncontrollable lust for power and a deadly skill for court intrigue. Elderly and frail, Cixi is still determined to hold on to her power and wealth, but her health problems may cut her ambitions short. Her remaining allies in the Army and court may yet see her through, however.
-Zaifeng, Prince-Regent Chun, a middle-aged and reasonably seasoned man determined to protect China and his son, the emperor, from Cixi and other power-seekers. Zaifeng's alcohol intake continues to increase as his already-unhappy marriage falls apart completely and he is left with much of the Regency's burden. Zaifeng's control of China is strong... for now.
-Aisin-Gioro Pujie, the Jiùzhǔ Emperor himself, a fairly inexperienced fourteen-year-old boy with little actual influence over China's administration. Pujie is dissatisfied with his lack of power, but his intelligence and charisma will be valuable assets as he reels the commander of China's armies into his unfolding scheme...
-Marshal Zhang Xun, a middle-aged man, the overall commander of the Chinese Army. A seasoned soldier and commander, Zhang Xun is currently throwing his lot in with the boy-emperor Pujie, but he may have his own objectives as well...
-Lady Sirin Yehonala, the sixteen-year-old daughter of the President of the Board of Works. Yehonala is beautiful, intelligent, and has caught the eye of both the emperor, whose household she works in, and the Prince-Regent. She has little power, but her fledgling network of contacts in the court and the military may prove invaluable to her as she seeks to take power for herself.

Other lesser players remain in the shadows, too- Cixi's trusted steward Liu, the missing Empress Dowager Longyu, the Manchurian general Lord Jalar, and perhaps some foreign ambassadors will enter this deadly game around the Dragon Throne as well.

The Seven Kingdoms Chinese people must gird themselves for the next Storm of Swords Dance of the Dragons competition between their leaders over who will finally end up with the Iron Throne Mandate of Heaven...

---

Also, shipbreaking efforts at Weihaiwei continue despite some setbacks, naval construction continues in Fuzhou, and the Taiyuan factory project continues. And Zaifeng is trapped in a miserable, physically, verbally, and sexually abusive, alcohol-fueled marriage. And the Red Terror continues to kill, imprison, maim, and torture thousands of Chinese.

*dejectedly blows party horn*

OOC: So everyone knows, I'm jumping forward a week or three in time here.

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter Five: Nest of Vipers

---

(Image)
Golden Pavilion, Jehol

---

Jehol
Yanboshizhuang Hall



"Lord Jalar! A pleasure, as always." Cixi's silvery voice seemed to convey real pleasure at the general's arrival. He was wearing a flamboyant Bordered Red Banner officer's uniform, with red and white silk and a soft black felt cap. As ever, he graciously bowed and began to perform the kowtow, only straightening when Cixi waved for him to stop.
"Glorious empress, it is your servant's honor to be permitted to enter your radiant presence, and so often."
Cixi smiled a little, turning and walking slowly to her chair. "Please, general. Sit and have some tea with an old woman," she said with a bright smile as she sat. Jalar bowed again, also smiling.
"My lady, you do this one a great honor."
"Only the beginning of the honors I hope to grant to such a loyal servant of the empire as yourself, general. As you doubtless remember from our last conversation, I have decided to once again offer my services to the Prince-Regent to help him take some of the burden of the state. I believe my steward, Liu, who is in charge of my packing for my return to Beijing, reached out to you about additional preparations for my escort?"
Jalar nodded. "He did, august empress. I believe my preparations should be completed by nightfall."
Cixi smiled as Liu entered with tea. "Lovely. I will depart in the morning- but it is so cold out, I may decide to take the trip more slowly, if not for myself then for my attendants. How long would you estimate it would take me with my expanded escort?" Her voice was delicate, light- one never knew, even with Liu running her household if someone were listening.
Jalar shrugged. "I would not think more than a day, your majesty. Preparations have not yet been made, as far as I am aware, by the Prince-Regent to receive you, but I am not sure if that would be considered an impediment." Liu set down the tea in two steaming cups, both white with elegant azure detailing. Cixi smiled, picking hers up and drinking happily.
"I do not think that should stop me from making an expedient return. After all, this is an urgent matter. On another subject, I spoke with your deputy, Commander Ciyakala? I'd like to have him help make some arrangements as well."
The general looked puzzled, taking a long drink from his cup. "Eje is a competent enough young man, I know, but he is quite inexperienced. I'm not sure if that will be necessary." Jalar coughed suddenly, then gasped, his eyes wide. Cixi stood up, walking slowly to the other side of the room as the cup fell from nerveless fingers, shattering, and the general crumpled over, air whistling through his locked jaw.
"Unfortunately, general, I am aware of the letters you've been sending. I don't know who you were sending them to, but you really leave me no choice- and besides, Ciyakala apparently holds some influence in the New Armies, which could be useful. You've outlived your usefulness to me. Thank you for your banner." She turned around, smiling. "And goodbye."

---

Beijing
The Forbidden City
Hall of Mental Cultivation




Yehonala finally managed to catch her breath, taking a shuddering gasp and closing her eyes. The Emperor was beside her, also breathing hard, and she heard him slip out of bed and walk to the window, which he opened slowly. She burrowed into the downy cloud of the blankets as a puff of frigid air, like an ice dragon's kiss, wafted across the room, gliding across skin gleaming with sweat to send shivers running down her spine. Pujie shivered a little, but didn't close the window, merely turning away from it to shield himself.
"Radiant lord, come back to bed, it's cold out there," Yehonala murmured, now appreciating the heat and warmth.
He grinned, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Looks like there's another storm coming in. I suppose that means we'll have to stay inside for a while."
She smiled back, sitting up as the cold wind lessened and became merely refreshingly cool- between the aerobics she'd just engaged in and the building's perpetually sweltering temperatures in winter, a gentle cool breeze felt nice. Pujie sprawled down next to her, his finger idly running up her leg.
"My lord, were you able to speak to Marshal Zhang today?," she inquired, guiding his hand further. The emperor smiled slightly, nodding as he allowed her to move his hand about. "He said you'd spoken to him about intercepting letters, from a Lord Jalar? Isn't he the Bordered Red commander?"
She gasped slightly, her face a mixture of confusion and pleasure. "Yes."
Pujie grinned, shifting his position and moving his other hand up her leg as well. "Anyways, he said Lord Jalar was sending letters to the new Minister of Domestic Tranquility, whatever his name is, and that you had intercepted them and found out that the Grand Empress Dowager was plotting to return from Jehol- with an army."
Yehonala, breathing a little harder, looked for a moment utterly confused before she threw her head back and laughed. Once she regained control, she managed to gasp out a response."I don't know why Marshal Zhang would lie to you, your highness. The letters were to Zhang, and that's not all that was in them."
The Emperor's eyebrows climbed as he shifted again. "Oh?"
"General Jalar didn't get too specific, but I'm quite certain they were plotting together. Jalar would help the Grand Empress Dowager retake Beijing, and Zhang would defect to her side. Then, once she had... oh, yes... taken the regency from your illustrious father, I believe Zhang and Jalar were plotting to kill her and seize control of the government, or perhaps help you to do so- I think the former."
The Emperor's eyebrows climbed even higher. "Those are serious accusations."
Yehonala, breathing hard, shrugged slightly. "Mostly speculation based off of what I've read. Zhang is still an ambitious man, and..."
Pujie moved his head towards his hands, deep in thought. "Well, I suppose it's useful to know. It certainly opens up a whole range of options." His voice was slightly muffled. "And how did you intercept these letters?"
Yehonala gasped slightly. "Well... oh... I suppose I've just... ah... heard things around."
"You never struck me as the political type, I guess."
"Well, my father's position... Yes, yes... I've been raised with politics all around me, supreme lord."
"Mmm. Why don't we talk about something else?," Pujie murmured, moving his head further.
Yehonala gave a slight cry, gasping out a breathless response and arching her back. "Why talk at all?"

---

Beijing
The Northern Residence



Youlan's face was tight with anger, but she handed Zaifeng the pile of court memoranda that had arrived. "These are for you. I've rescheduled our dinner with the major foreign legations."
Zaifeng nodded. "Thank you." She didn't move for a moment, and then left the room.
The Prince-Regent immediately got to work, starting with the top document- more about the Weihaiwei shipbreaking effort. After the fire on the Zhenyuan and a few minor accidents on other ships, the project was proceeding quite smoothly, and some of the steel was in better condition than expected and would be worth more money than had originally been estimated. He moved on quickly, working through Domestic Tranquility documents, imperial household items, and all the assorted detritus of government that the rest of the government needed him to work on. By the time he was done, it was almost dark out and his flask was empty.
"Are you done?", came Youlan's voice from down the hall. "The ambassadors are going to be here in twenty minutes or so, and you might want to change. They're all bringing their wives as well."
Zaifeng, grumbling, set his pen down. "Alright, I'll change and be right there."

Ten minutes later, the Prince-Regent and his wife, the Empress Mother, both dressed in elegant Western clothing- Zaifeng in an impeccable suit and Youlan in a lovely silk dress- were both in the Hall of Silver Tranquility, awaiting the imminent arrival of their guests.

---

POST SUMMARY:

-Cixi is gathering an army and preparing to march on Beijing, but no one but Yehonala and the Emperor know and they, for whatever reason, aren't saying anything. And also Zhang Xun knows but he's part of the whole plot, so he doesn't really count.
-Yehonala has gotten into the emperor's heart (and his pants), and is now getting her brains fucked out while they plot to seize power and backstab Zhang Xun.
-Zaifeng is unhappy and overworked, has no idea his son Pujie, top general Zhang Xun, and his dead brother's sister-in-law Cixi are all plotting against him, and is going to have dinner with the Japanese, German, British, and American ambassadors and their wives at the Northern Residence in Beijing.
-Zhang Xun clearly has his own political agenda, and may be plotting to take power for himself.
-The Red Terror continues.
-Empress Dowager Longyu has not reappeared, but there are many rumors about her whereabouts saying she's everywhere from Jilin to Moscow or Paris, or Berlin or Rome, or London or New York, or perhaps Tokyo or Delhi. By now it is slowly becoming common knowledge within China that she has escaped, but the government has not acknowledged it and stories are becoming increasingly outrageous.
-Reclamation efforts at Weihaiwei continue, as does construction of torpedo boats at the Fuzhou Arsenal and the Taiyuan industrial project.

(Image)

---

The Second Triumvirate, Part Two, Chapter Six: The Mandate of Heaven

---

(Image)
The Temple of Heaven, Beijing

---

Beijing
The Forbidden City
Hall of Mental Cultivation


Yehonala sighed, sitting up.
"I got another intercept from the Admiralty Board."
The emperor managed to catch his breath, and looked up at her, eyes bright and alert. "Oh?"
"Cixi's army has assembled and is marching from Jehol."
The emperor propped himself up on some pillows, biting the inside of his cheek. "Who else knows about this?"
"No one, as far as I know. The intercepted letter was straight to Zhang Xun, and I ordered Kai not to tell anyone. It'll get out anyways- she's assembled something like forty thousand soldiers."
"How has she managed to keep this quiet?"
"I don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say she stationed them outside the city, tucked away in the countryside, and killed whoever owned the land she was assembling them on. From then on all you'd need is sentries and a tight grip on your household, and my intercepts from the Ministry that I told you about... what, a week ago? They indicated several agents in her household had lost contact. Either way, they're marching on Beijing."
"How soon will anyone else know?"
She shrugged. "Your father will probably be informed in the wee hours of the morning. Zhang Xun has something like fifty thousand men, all New Armies, around the city and in Tianjin, plus bannermen and Green Standard troops which might amount to another thirty thousand. He'll have no reason to flee until it's too late and Zhang Xun turns on him with his New Armies. Even if he weren't combined with Cixi's forces, thirty thousand bannermen and Green Standards won't stand a chance against him. So basically no one will know until it's too late."
"Perfect. Tell Kai and our other friends to meet with us in Zhongnanhai, at midnight."
Yehonala stood, slowly donning a skimpy silk tunic and putting on her slippers before bowing. "Of course, radiant highness." She smiled, gliding out the door.
Pujie looked out the window at the darkening sky.

It was snowing again.

Beijing
The Northern Residence



The city slumbered through the night, as snow flurries occasionally scampered across the area, sweeping in off of Bo Hai over Tianjin and the Imperial city. A crescent moon cast a soft light on the sleeping city between the fast-moving clouds, which ran west as if fleeing some invading heavenly cavalry. A soft, thin white blanket enveloped the city in its cool folds, and though the city was dark and quiet, great and terrible forces were at work. The Emperor and his favorite concubine unexpectedly went to Zhongnanhai in the dead of night, informing only the few servants who conveyed them there, and both went into the Hall of Purple Light, where some men from the Admiralty Board and other boards and ministries were waiting. While this was happening, couriers hurried to the Northern Residence and the Forbidden City, informing the Prince-Regent and other important figures that the Grand Empress Dowager had, the previous evening, left Jehol with an army. Most members of the Grand Council swiftly evacuated the city, but Zhang Xun, the First Marshal, ordered the city's garrison to immediately begin deploying along the walls and around the general area. The Prince-Regent ordered that the Emperor be immediately brought to the Forbidden City- but no one knew where the Emperor was, and no one could be spared to look for him. Zhongnanhai was sealed off by some New Army and Green Standard security forces that had been allocated to the Admiralty Board and the Navy to protect their offices in the capital, and as the city began to wake to this chaos in the predawn hours, the rumor that Cixi was marching on the capital spread like wildfire.

In this chaos, a strange and rarified atmosphere seemed to take hold, as the city braced for the coming storm. Beijing seemed to be trapped between the giddiness and terror of the diver, plummeting towards the surface in free fall, and the excitement and apprehension of the monk who knows enlightenment is just within his grasp. There seemed to be a touch of the divine everywhere, from the blood-red sun that was beginning to approach the eastern horizon, to the strange snowfall that continued from the cloudless sky, to the thousands of birds, wheeling against a setting crescent moon, that were now gathering in Tiananmen for no apparent reason.

Zaifeng was pacing in his study, almost frantic as he looked out the window, his fists clenching and unclenching over and over at his sides, while Zhang Xun sat almost peacefully at the table, poring over maps and the latest reports.
"With the information we have right now, it looks like Jalar is taking his cavalry and fast troops to swing around and hit us from the south. Bordered Red cavalry are apparently already in Langfang. It's an idiotic move, considering all the fortifications we have there, but it's certainly bold. If I had to guess I'd say Cixi is being escorted by his deputies, who are commanding this main larger force that will hit us from the north. We'll be able to easily hold them off, and once reinforcements arrive from Tianjin and Zhangjiakou it will turn into a rout."
"How are reinforcements supposed to arrive from Tianjin if Cixi has taken Langfang?"
"They're cavalry, my lord. They aren't going to stay there and hold it. I already have word that the leading edge of the southern force is running into our defensive lines south of the city- they're just passing through Langfang, is all."
"Of course," Zaifeng said, nodding uneasily. "We cannot allow Cixi to escape, even if things turn into a chaotic rout. She is far too dangerous. If she gets loose anywhere, she'll raise another army, and this country cannot take another civil war."
Zhang Xun smiled slightly, looking down. "I know, my prince. I must go to the Meridian Gate- our headquarters is apparently up and running."
"I'll get you a car. It'll be faster."

Several minutes later, Zhang Xun, his mustache flecked with snow, hurried into the Meridian Gate.
His manner of entry would, had anyone seen it, earned him death by slow slicing. He went through the central arch before continuing around to a back door and heading up towards the main guardhouse. The central arch was reserved for the Emperor and the Emperor alone, except very rare occasions where the Empress was permitted to enter through it as well. For commoners to use it was punishable by death. Fortunately for the First Marshal, few people were present, and those who could have seen were too intent on their own tasks to notice his illicit manner of entry.

When he entered the main guardhouse, it was an absolute hot mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, tables arranged haphazardly, maps pinned to walls on every available surface, and reports from the telegraph station in one of the smaller guardhouses covered practically everything. The telegraphs in here were all whirring away, as was their single radio set.
"Alright, everyone, stop!," Zhang Xun boomed.
There was dead silence, immediately, except for the telegraphs and radio, which continued to hum furiously.
"I have some new orders. Our northern forces are to stand down immediately, to expedite the Grand Empress Dowager's trip. We will do whatever we can to ensure her imperial highness is comfortable and safe as she returns to Beijing. However, our troops to the south will remain vigilant against the bandits under Lord Jalar who threaten Langfang. Am I clear?"
There was an outburst of murmuring and whispers, and then Colonel Jin Ma, one of Zhang's favorite officers, spoke up.
"Sir, have we not been ordered by the Prince-Regent and the Grand Council to prevent the Grand Empress Dowager from reentering the city?"
"Those orders are no longer in effect."
"On whose authority?," Ma challeged.
"Mine, colonel. Is there a problem?"
"Sir, with all due respect, you don't have the power to override state prerogatives."
Zhang raised an eyebrow. "Colonel Ma, you're dismissed. We'll discuss this later."
"Sir?"
"You heard me."
"Sir, if I were to abandon my post when I know there is an immediate threat from within the Armed Forces against state prerogatives and that there is a threat against the state and our glorious emperor, it would be a flagrant violation of my duty. I will remain here."
"Ma, who is the marshal here?," Zhang said, toying idly with his sidearm.
"You are, sir."
"And I'm ordering you to get the fuck out. Is that understood?"
"Sir, again, with all due respect, you may be a marshal, but you can't order anything you like. Your power does not exceed that of the Dragon Throne. This army serves the state, not itself or one man."
"And there," Zhang Xun said with a smile, "is where our philosophies differ, Colonel."

There was a gunshot from within the Meridian Gate, and new orders went racing down the lines to Beijing's defenders as the remaining officers cowered before the First Marshal.
Some of them, however, were more resourceful than they looked, and Zhang Xun, who was not a trained telegraph operator, did not know what all of the messages said.

---

Beijing
Yongdingmen Gate


Cixi wrapped her heavy furs around her a little tighter as her palanquin glided over the snow towards Yongdingmen. Liu had cleverly affixed a brazier to the back, but it was incredibly cold even so and she was thankful for her heavy winter clothes. Beside her, Liu, Ciyakala, and a few dozen Bordered Red cavalrymen rode, while ahead of them the guardhouse rose, menacing them with its cannon and machine guns. It had been among the sections of the city walls heavily reinforced during the Northern Expedition, and Cixi, who had reviewed its plans, was well aware that there were also hidden bunkers, artillery positions, and sniper nests scattered all around the area.
And yet, for some reason, after the initial bloody fighting north of Langfang, along the city defenses' southern perimeter, they had been able to pass unhindered. A number of New Army troops and even some Green Standards had gone so far as to surrender to them.
She could hear distant gunfire and the occasional thump of artillery from the north, though, which probably meant their main force was in for some trouble- but still, Yongdingmen did not fire. Indeed, Cixi could not even see any enemy soldiers around it, and the gates were wide open thanks to a few Bordered Red soldiers who were waving at them from the top of the walls.


Ciyakala stopped, along with several riders, looking up suspiciously at the looming guardhouse, but Cixi waved them to continue. "If they were going to fire, they already would have. I doubt there's even anyone inside. Continue."
Ciyakala shrugged. "As you command, your highness."
Cixi smiled as her little party swept forward, into the capital, and towards the Dragon Throne.

---

Beijing
Tiananmen Square




Cixi smiled as her palanquin swept through the Gate of China onto Tiananmen's broad expanse. The guns were still thundering away to the north- doubtless thanks to some witless fuckup by Ciyakala's dullard deputies, or perhaps Jalar's mysterious letters- but Tiananmen, aside from the thousands of birds gathering in it, was silent. The birds began launching themselves into alarmed flight as Cixi's party poured into the square, heading towards the gate on the opposite side that would take them deeper within the Imperial city.
There was suddenly a series of sharp pops and yells, and Cixi noticed smoke drifting from the gatehouse itself. Ciyakala and some of the other officers started yelling as several horses bolted and Cixi's riders began collapsing under the unexpected volley of rifle fire, and the birds in the square began taking flight in their thousands, the cries of avian alarm blurring together and drowning out the voices of the Grand Empress Dowager's guards.
Cixi took a deep breath before she screamed, "Charge!", with surprising force, and Ciyakala's and the others immediately wheeled their horses to face the gatehouse, some of them readying rifles, muskets, pistols, and bows. As her cavalry began thundering across Tiananmen's cobblestone expanse, Cixi suddenly felt her palanquin lurch to the side as a bullet found one of her bearers. The man's choked cry suddenly became screams, as coals from the brazier Liu had put on the vehicle spilled all over him and began scorching into his groin and upper torso. Cixi, swearing, threw her weight to the other side to avoid tipping out, and one of the Green Standards who had joined them near Yongdingmen hurriedly moved to help support the palanquin. Meanwhile, some of her other infantry were following behind her charging Bordered Reds, while a few others appeared to be setting up a light field gun.
Liu managed to reach the edge of the palanquin, staggering away from his slain horse.
"My lady, we must get you to safety!" He extended a hand to help her down, but she pulled away, her face set in a sneer.
"They wouldn't dare shoot me." The field gun suddenly barked, and a plume of dust rose on the walls above the gate. Her palanquin lurched again, this time forwards, as the two front bearers went down, and she could feel hot coals against the back of her chair threatening to burn through. Liu lept up onto the platform, failing to get his legs up and thrashing like a dying fish as he swatted the coals away from her, swearing when they brushed his bare skin. The platform stabilized as more soldiers replaced her dead bearers, and the Grand Empress Dowager waved incoherently, swatting a last coal away and screaming at her bearers to move forward. Liu was suddenly hurled onto his back with a grunt, and rolled off the platform with a red stain spreading across his chest. There was suddenly furious firing from Tiananmen, and Cixi swore as her palanquin finally spilled- they'd gotten a machine gun onto the battlements, clearly, because half her bearers had just been wiped out along with at least a dozen nearby guards. The shooting was furious, and she could hear the field gun barking and shells exploding as she crawled away from the palanquin and the bodies around it, which were now beginning to burn as the hot coals caught wood and cloth and hair.
All of a sudden, the shooting began to die down. Cixi managed to stagger to her feet, and looked up at the gatehouse-which was now pocked with holes and smoldering from the field gun's barrage. Bodies lay everywhere as the birds wheeled above the square, shrieking in distress, and her palanquin had fully caught and was now fully ablaze.
There was distant shouting from the gatehouse, and more shooting, but none of her surviving men fell. The Grand Empress Dowager, jaw set, looked around for Liu- and suddenly, there he was, beside her. The boy had taken two bullets in her service, now- and this wound, while not mortal, was definitely worse than the first. His side was soaked in blood and his face pale, but he had somehow obtained a pistol from one of the dead guards and bowed as best he could to Cixi.
"At your service, august lady."
A motor car appeared and begin accelerating across the square. There was no explanation for its appearance, and its driver apparently had no explanation for the soldiers before it, because it swerved sharply and begin speeding up as Ciyakala and her surviving bannermen began yelling at it and then firing on it. The car came to a halt halfway across the square, engine smoking, and several people lept out as it burst into flames.

Cixi saw a flash of vermilion and yellow silk, and thought she saw Zaifeng's smooth, oval face, but there was suddenly a cry from the other end of the square, even as she could hear the pop of pistol fire from behind the automobile.
"Halt, in the name of the Emperor!"
A loose, scattered formation of infantry were arrayed along the opposite end of the square, wearing the uniforms of the imperial guard or else Navy dress uniforms.
As more shooting began, Liu pulled her down behind the palanquin's burning wreck, and the two of them crouched there while there were screams and shooting and explosions. The palanquin began to die down, becoming pleasantly warm on such a cold day, and the Grand Empress Dowager could hear the car also beginning to die down, but these were only a few snippets of information as chaos and death and bullets whirled around her. There was another massive explosion, and then silence, but for the sound of beating wings, as the sun burst over Tiananmen.

Cixi rose, and looked out over a desolate square. The gate was burning furiously, the walls rent by a shell, and corpses were strewn around the harsh, snow-covered expanse, creating red blotches against the pristine white blanket.
Four other people were standing at various points around the square. Zhang Xun, with his characteristic mustache, was standing near a pile of corpses in New Army uniforms. Zaifeng, his round face like a mask, stood near his burning car.
The emperor, and the daughter of the Senior President of the Board of Works, were also standing in the square.

They stood like that for a long time, and then Cixi took the pistol from Liu and began to walk, slowly and with her head held high, across the square, towards Zhang Xun and the gate. No one stirred- it seemed they were all in the grip of some greater power now, mere pawns of Heaven executing their moves, dancers spinning to the music.
Zhang Xun raised his own pistol. There was a sharp crack, and Cixi staggered, feeling a sharp pain in her side and a hot wetness.
She winced, straightened, and kept walking. Zaifeng had evidently picked up a gun as well- there were two cracks, and she saw Zhang Xun stagger, then felt an excruciating pain in her knee. The Grand Empress Dowager, leaning heavily on her cane, turned and, for the first time in her life, fired a gun.
The force was shocking. She had not expected so much recoil- the weapon seemed to be trying to jump free, or else strike her a mortal blow. But its efficacy was clear- Zaifeng's head whipped around in a spray of blood, and he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.

Cixi turned again, and continued walking towards the gate. Her thick furs and clothing had protected her from the worst damage the two bullets could have done, but every step felt like a knife in her side and knee and she could feel blood running in a steady stream from both wounds. Her vision blurred slightly as she tripped on a chunk of ice, the impact vibrating up her leg to make her knee feel like it was on fire.
Zhang Xun, ahead of her, tried to straighten, but suddenly he collapsed, red blooming on his chest. Cixi tried to turn her head- the shot had come from the car, so evidently her bullet hadn't finished Zaifeng just yet.

Cixi's shoes crunched on the marshal's hand as she walked over him, and she heard a bullet whine last her ear- Zaifeng again, judging by where the pistol report had come from. She gritted her teeth, staring with all her power at Tiananmen and taking every step one at a time.

---

Pujie and Yehonala stared, awestruck, as the Grand Empress Dowager took two bullets, shot the Prince-Regent, and then continued her steady march towards the entrance to the Forbidden City. Her steward collapsed as she continued forward- Pujie didn't know if it was from blood loss or shock.
Yehonala bent over, picked up the pistol that had fallen from the nearest soldier's dead hands, and held it out.
"Shall you, or shall I?"
The Emperor shook his head and pointed.

---

Cixi felt her knee buckle with a strange, detached sensation, feeling the snow and stone strike her body- and yet not feeling it. She had the feeling that such a fall must have been painful- but no pain, nothing real that connected her to the world.
She lay in the snow for what seemed like an eternity, and then a force- it had to be a god, to roll something as heavy as she felt she was- moved her on to her back. Two faces appeared in her blurred vision, floating against a piercing blue sky, and she felt the pain return in a fiery buzz, gasping at its white-hot intensity.
A woman's voice drifted into her head, like someone yelling from inside a bunker door or across a very long hallway.
"My lady, you are dying."
Cixi snorted mirthlessly. "I'm... aware..." She murmured. "Please.... Tiananmen..."
The force returned, and Cixi felt tears slide down her cheeks as the hot knives in her knee and side writhed like snakes being hit with electric shocks.
Tiananmen's imposing gatehouse, smoke still rising over it, appeared as she rose off the snow, lifted by whoever, whatever the two faces were. The crescent moon and the morning star still gleamed bright in the stunning early dawn, and despite the excruciating pain Cixi felt a sudden smile come over her face, laughter rising in her.
This is what it's come to. This is how it ends. After so many times.... I die here, today, before the gateway to Heaven and the center of the world, in the city of my birth and my forefathers, in the hands of the Son of Heaven- it must be him, he was the only one left standing.

What do I regret? I mean, there's the little things, the normal things, some of the bigger things- but I've faced those and put them behind me. I, a mere concubine, just a Manchurian girl from Beijing, I've made my peace with the past.

I wonder how many people get to do that, before they die.


I suppose there are worse ways to go.
Cixi smiled, looked at the gate with sudden clarity, and began speaking to the young man and woman holding her up for reasons she could not fathom and would never know, and not just to them.
"For better or for worse, this is the hand I was dealt in life, and this is how I've played it. It is not for me to write my own histories- I don't know what people will say about my legacy or think of me when I die. And I don't give a damn. I've lived my life to the fullest and I'm dying now doing what I've always done, with no regrets, and if there is a next life then it will be for the judges of the underworld to decide my true worth. Good luck, and good-bye."

The Grand Empress-Regent Dowager Cixi, the woman who had defined China for sixty years and more, died that morning in Tiananmen Square, with a beatific smile on her face.

---

POST SUMMARY:

Pujie wins, and this thread is now finally done.

Some of the best atmospheric post I've ever seen.

Emergency Operator Transcript, Line 118, New York PSAP

[09:15] == Phase II [enter] Location Database Void
[09:15] == Selective Router Assigned [CADS transfer]
[09:15] == E-Operator Line 118/Call == (212) 245-9882

---

[09:15] <118> 911, what is your emergency?
[09:15] <2122459882_> Elevator 17 in 30 Rockefeller Plaza is stopped.
[09:16] <118> Alright, are you in the elevator?
[09:16] <2122459882_> No.
[09:16] <118> Has the building's management been alerted?
[09:16] <2122459882_> No.
[09:16] <118> Okay, you're at 30 Rockefeller Plaza?
[09:16] <2122459882_> I don't think they want to know.
[09:16] <118> Sorry, what was that?
[09:16] <2122459882_> There's a bomb in the elevator.
[09:17] <118> I need you to stay on the line with me. There's a bomb in the elevator?
[09:17] <2122459882_> That's what I said. [inaudible]
[09:17] <118> How are you aware of this?
[09:17] <2122459882_> The bomb-setter is in the elevator.
[09:17] <118> Hold on, I need to [inaudible]
[09:17] <2122459882_> It will detonate at 2:09 p.m. on February 15th.
[09:18] == Dispatch [ip] order, Station 16 Rockefeller
[09:18] <118> If you could stay on the line, I'm alerting dispatchers now. Remain
[09:18] <2122459882_> If the bomb-setter is killed the bomb will not detonate. The elevator will [inaudible]
[09:18] == Dispatch [r] entry request [18-9-88-16L4 Rkflr\\]\wait
[09:18] == 18-9-88-16L4 rkflr [onhold] [redirect CADS transfer]
[09:18] <118> Okay, just stay on the line.
[09:18] <2122459882_> I can't do that.
[09:19] <118> Sorry? I need
[09:19] == Phase II [endcall]
[09:19] == Selective Router [open]
[09:19] == E-Operator Line 118/open
[09:19] <118> [inaudible]
[09:19] == Line 118 [transfer]
[09:19] == Rerouting to E9 Supervisor
[09:19] == Emergency Dispatcher Sup. E9/Direct == L118
[09:19] <118_> Rick, I have a caller threatening to bomb an elevator.
[09:19] <E9> Were they dispatched?
[09:19] <118_> They hung up, dispatchers notified.
[09:19] <E9> I'm getting the transcript
[09:20] <118_> Rockefeller 16 was dispatched.
[09:20] <E9> We need the bomb squad, NY Fire, and SWAT. Get fire, I'll dispatch [inaudible] others.

---

[09:20] == L118 [endcall] /cut
[09:20] == E9/redirect\\waitall
[09:20] == Dispatch [r-asap] call request [1418-9 BMB SQD NYC\\]/immd [root\E9 NYPSAP]
[09:21] == Dispatch [r-asap] call request [rkflrFDNY 18-18-18-906-4\\]/immd [root\L118 NYPSAP]
[09:21] == 1418-9 BMBSQDNYC [active] [dispatch/E9]
[09:21] == Dispatch [r-asap] call request [NYSWAT-002\\]/immd [root\E9 NYPSAP]
[09:21] == rkflrFDNY 18-18-18-906-4 [onhold] [rerun r-asap]/immd
[09:21] == rkflrFDNY 18-18-18-906-4 [active] [dispatch/L118]
[09:21] == NYSWAT-002 [active] [dispatch/E9]

---

There’s new strategy coming in. It’ll be Molotov cocktails this month, hand
grenades next month, and something else next month. It’ll be ballots or it’ll be
bullets. It’ll be liberty or it will be death. The only difference about this kind of
death — it’ll be reciprocal.

Malcolm X

---

9:47 am, February 12, 2013

If the system breaks down the consequences will still be very painful. But the
bigger the system grows the more disastrous the results of its breakdown will be,
so if it is to break down it had best break down sooner rather than later.

Ted Kaczynski

Alarms gradually ring out far way. A PA, making an ominous sound, a sound akin to a klaxon or a tocsin, forms buzzing sounds in this cavity. A lift machinist at 30 Rock, who has had a bad night, sits up blinking and purblind. From A Void: what was that word (is his thought) that ran through my brain all night, that idiotic word that, hard as I'd try to pun it down, was always just an inch or two out of my grasp - fowl or foul or Vow or Voyal? - a word which, by association, brought into play an incongruous mass and magma of nouns, idioms, slogans and sayings, a confusing, amorphous outpouring which I sought in vain to control or turn off but which wound around my mind a whirlwind of a cord, a whiplash of a cord, a cord that would split again and again, would knit again and again, of words without communication or any possibility of combination, words without pronunciation, signification or transcription but out of which, notwithstanding, was brought forth a flux, a continuous, compact and lucid flow: an intuition, a vacillating frisson of illumination as if caught in a flash of lightning or in a mist abruptly rising to unshroud an obvious sign - but a sign, alas, that would last an instant only to vanish for good.

He speaks.

"Good morning, occupants of elevatorrr.... seventeen! Now, you might know by now your lift has paused, by that's just all in passing.
(and the sounds
of sirens and fire
trucks and city
road buzzing
creeps through
the intercom)
but we'll have all that sorted out by the hour's end and that's a promise we can keep here at 30 Rock, now y'all have a good morning and we will be up there in a jiffy, bye bye, now!"
(they will hang
themselves by
the week's end
and their neighbor
will cry and hide
the body in a
closet and no one
will know
the difference)

Also, most of this thread, especially the earlier parts:
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=324381
I can't really pick any of my favourites because they're all so good; have a browse, I guess.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

A summary of Elfen High's climatic battle.

From the Associated Press on January 2nd, 2031 -

Holy flipping fuck, you guys. Tell me you felt that.

No? Stop giving me that look! I'm telling you, shit went down.

So, like, first of all - and I know this is crazy, but bear with me - all of you fuckers died. Charles Dance came out of nowhere, and I think Bryan Cranston was with him, and whoosh! Suddenly, there's no plant and Aleister Crowley is Peter Capaldi or something.

Stop laughing. I'm serious. I was there. The world ended. Well, the world, except Elfen High. Because of course. Because of course the second they send me to cover this shitty funeral, the world ends. I shouldn't have gone to this goddamn school - I told them that. Fuck you, Frank. I know I fucked your wife, but c'mon. Couldn't you have sent me to a warzone instead? Iraq might be a shithole, but at least it obeys physical laws.

Right. So. A bunch of B-list TV actors from the mid-2010's beat the shit out of each other and then the spaceships... look, I get it. I know this sounds insane. I know you think I've finally snapped, that all those years covering fiscal policy finally got to me. And I know that bitch Caroline is going to try to make this about my drinking. But it's not, it's real. I swear to God.

Also, God was there. He, also, is Charles Dance. He's brothers with the other Charles Dance, or maybe one is the other's father. I don't know, at that point, I was hiding in this big tree, trying to avoid getting killed by the robot angels.

Except the tree had a dragon in it. Actually, I think the dragon was god.

Anyways, then Aleister (who is also John Hurt) killed the dragon, and Tom Baker was there. So, naturally, Aleister rode the dragon into the school, and then rode the school through all of space and time. I passed out at some point, or maybe died, but when I woke up, I was in the school cafeteria, and everything was back to normal.

But the fucking thing talks now.

Listen to me. Yesterday, the universe was destroyed, and Aleister Crowley rebuilt it. I don't expect you to believe me. I get it. Just... just check your stuff, alright? Just look around. Make sure he didn't fuck anything, or everything, or ohmygodIthinkwewereallinsidehim.

Fuck it. Fuck it all, man. I don't even know why I'm writing this. I should be dead, we should all be dead, and I have kids. I quit, man. I... I need to get my life together.

Just... fuck.

And I think I saw Clint Eastwood and Jack Nicholson fucking in a dumpster.

[Swith Witherward]

Some character reactions after watching a news feed covering the slaughter of school children in front of a museum.

First, there was that moment of disconnection where only a small part of your mind had acknowledged what had happened; enough to understand, but not enough to feel. But then, like a dark cloud, the realization migrated and overtook your gut by storm, leaving you desperately trying to find a high point to escape the flood. Giovenith looked for that high point on the TV, in the faces of the priests and other adults around her, in any oncoming comments, but could find none. This was all. Many little lights, so often thought of as precious to the point of untouchable, had been blown out.

Some man out there felt he was in a position to make the decision to do so.

Giovenith would have liked to make a decision about him.

It was hard to form words when your thoughts were racing, as the small volunteer healer's war. Of course at the front of her concerns was the heartache towards those little children and the rage towards their murderer, but at the same time, there was no way to ignore the fact that this incident would come down drastically against the 'abhumans' (she was beginning to dislike that word). She could have scoffed, could have raged, could have argued against an imaginary mob in her head the silliness of blaming a group for the actions of one or few, but Giovenith was just old and smart enough that that was a lesson humanity was never going to ever fully learn. They hadn't before, and they weren't going to now. A storm was coming.

She took a very bold move, came right out, and asked what was on her mind in a soft but heavy tone: "Do you think the Gestapo did it?"

The godling did not consider it a far-off possibility. She wasn't inclined to believe that a group of traitor Chaos members eager for her own neck among others was really plotting their agenda out of some true, sincere adoration of the human race. Even they claimed to or possibly believed it themselves (some were former Nazis, after all), mercy and consideration were not traits one in her position could tack onto them. Now that was not to say Giovenith thought all 'abhumans' were innocent just because of their current position of persecution, but the timing and magnitude and tactic of this whole dreadful thing just seemed a bit too (in)convenient.

--

Pippa-Michelle, as usual, was confused. She rather disliked that. It made it so difficult to catch up with what was important around her, like the blinking screen of the mini TV as Pretzels' eyes locked onto it, hanging on every word. He seemed intent and distracted, and so she took the opportunity to slowly crawl out of her closet to the bedside where he was sitting.

"... surveillance video reveals the man had raised his hand and shot magic at the school children in an apparent suicide. The USiPo has not commented yet however we're expecting to hear from their offices shortly..."

Those were lots of more big words that were hard to piece together, but the fleshy saying them seemed despondent. Pippa-Michelle recognized 'children.'

"Babies?" she asked, startling Willow but drawing his attention. Her slender hand gently reached out to pat one of his hooves, looking between him and the television screen. "Babies? Babies?"

The news fleshy seemed sad and was talking about children, there was no possible way that could be good, and yet Pippa-Michelle hoped for the best. The golem liked fleshy babies. She loved them. They came from other fleshies. They were more special, but kind of dumb like her too. They were soft and squishy and smiled at her like she could do no wrong, as any good golem always dreamed. It was Pippa's hope that this flat fleshy must be conveying something she didn't catch, that a few reassurances from her secondary master and all would be well once again.

But that didn't happen. Eagerly she watched as the pony's blue eyes turned towards her, and she asked once again, "Babies?" giving his foreleg a gentle shake. The eyes shifted toward the floor, and Pretzels' strange top-head ears folded down after them. "Babies..." Pippa's own eyes grew, and she pulled away slightly. No.

Willow closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. There wasn't much more needed to explain to the humble paper being.

No no. No no. "Babies..." Her own eyes could produce no tears. All the false woman could do was leap up and grasp tightly onto her secondary master, trembling in dry sorrow as he did his best to soothe away her from these evils she did not even have the privilege of understanding.

[Cerillium]

"Just post for Marcus," I said. "Have him grunt at Giovenith or something." She godmods my character in a sweet quasi-"one shot" instead.

Torii's searches for "State of Bielield", "Confederation of Torsiedelle", "Done Conflict", and "Bielield Police Department" provided information she was already aware of, including stale news from earlier that morning. The exception was "Done Conflict". Google asked her if she meant "Drone Conflict", and then Rule 34 kicked in once more.

---

Marcus had retreated towards the rear of the group, withdrawing while the news rolled off the anchor's tongue. The dead class could have easily been Eva's or Rachelle's. It didn't matter what part of the city they hailed from - and for a brief moment, Marcus worried that it had been Rachelle's - they were still innocents. The boy massaged the back of his neck to relieve the knots forming in his muscles, and then moved further away to avoid attention.

He needed to punch something. Anything. Perhaps he could just leave completely, maybe head to the pits to pound out some steel. Manual labor was good for bleeding away anger. He decided it was the best course of action, and then turned to walk away, but he got no further than that. The young girl from the atrium had come downstairs to take her meal. Judging by her horrified expression, she'd been eavesdropping.

She stared up at him, fretful eyes locking gaze with his own. She was fairly certain the rassaphore would chastise her. Normally, she would have folded her tiny hands and accepted stern words regarding her lapse in manners, although Brother Usseio's reprimands were kinder the rest of the brotherhood's and never left her feeling poorly. She continued to stare instead. Marcus could only watch as her bottom lip rolled forward and began to quiver.

He cast a surreptitious glance towards Brother Adrastus. As usual, the old archimandrite was preoccupied with his own concerns. He slipped from the room to join the child in the hall.

"I can read lips," Marcus chided as squatted in front of her. "Especially if they have emotions tattooed on them."

The words were meant to bring a smile to her face but the child's sorrow couldn't be dispelled by quips. She hiccuped softly and tilted her head.

"Look here, Apricitas-," he began.

Marcus sucked in his breath as the child collided with his chest. She had never sought physical comfort before now, and he marveled at her small fingers as they clasped onto his hoodie, twisting the material in an effort to draw herself closer to him. He slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her from the floor. She was still small enough to rest at hip so Marcus cradled her against his torso and slowly rocked to soothe her rising fears.

"It's alright to be scared," he nuzzled her forehead. It dawned on him that he'd never asked who her progenitors were, not that it mattered. She was only seven or so, old enough to be given her responsibilities. That she conducted them at the Observatory was only proof that her parents had conceived her, bore her to term, and then returned to their quest to strip away any traces of their own humanity. Marcus swallowed his own resentment towards his father.

"Apri, do you remember the stories I've told you about the godling with moonlight in her hair?"

The child mutely nodded her head against his chest. Of course she remembered them. She had spent the winter listening to the rassaphore's marvelous tales about paper horses and beautiful dragons.

Marcus smiled. "You were deep in meditation earlier. I bet you didn't realize that she walked right past you."

Apricitas lifted her head. The godling was real? As in really real? A part of her had always firmly denied it. The rassaphore's tales were meant to teach her about overcoming doubts and fears, and how to be brave even when you were shaking inside, and how a good heart was the best heart. They were all made up. They had to be. He was a secret heretic in that regard, the rebel that dared to whisper such silly things when his duty was supposed to encompass filling her brain with logical solutions and cold instruction. Her once-trembling lip slowly drew inward again and she caught it between her front teeth.

"Hmph!" Marcus tipped his head in feigned indignation.

His snort nearly rivaled Brother Adrastus' own hallmark noise. She would have laughed if the old priest hadn't been standing in the other room. Her eyes widened slightly as she studied Marcus' face. "Brother Usseio, may I see her? Please?" If the godling existed, then all the stories about her were fact, and all the inspiration the child drew from them was well founded.

Marcus carried her to the doorway and they peered into the room together.

A sharp intake of breath betrayed Apricitas' delight upon spotting Giovenith. The godling looked exactly as the rassaphore had always described her. In fact, she was even more beautiful than that. The child's fingers untangled themselves from Marcus' hoodie. She would have clapped her hands together but for Brother Adrastus' proximity.

"Be on your best behavior," Marcus warned as he lowered her to the floor. "And don't draw too much attention. I'm in no mood to do extra chores just because you couldn't contain yourself."

Apricitas blinked in disbelief. Did he mean to say that she could actually meet Giovenith? She didn't have much time to ponder it. Marcus ushered her into the room, taking a roundabout route to avoid the group at large. And then they were there, standing in front of the godling as she hung up her phone. The child inhaled the scents of crafting paper and paint, and delighted in the way the light reflected off her hair.

"Hello Giovenith," Marcus smiled faded somewhat as he studied her face. "Is everything okay?"

Earlier fears forgotten, Apricitas pressed herself against the rassaphore's leg and bashfully peered at the magical young woman before her. She would wait to be introduced, as was proper.


Brother Adrastus hadn't noticed the child's arrival, or else he had chosen to ignore it in favor of the conversation at hand.

"I think you misunderstand, Mr. Bela. While we wait for instruction from our contact, or for their arrival here if that is their decision, we should pass the time productively. We can best do that by preparing. Unless the rest of you have a better idea?"

---

"I live just down the way," Sara shrugged in reply to Rachelle's question.

"She lives in cultist housing," Laura interjected. "I mean, it's not the projects or anything, but it's really cramped. You've seen the houses, right? They're those tiny cottages stacked next to each other. My brother's college dorm room is bigger than their entire house!"

Sara rolled her eyes and vowed to never ask Laura to come over for a sleepover again. She was spared the effort of coming up with a good retort by the arrival of her mother. The child breathed a relieved sigh. "Goodbye then. See you tomorrow."

Laura waited until Sara was across the room before speaking again. "That's Mrs. Thompson," she gestured toward Sara's mother. The woman looked haggard; dark circles lined her eyes, and she seemed unnaturally pale. Today she was more fretful than normal. Laura shook her head at the woman's appearance. "Sara's dad does dangerous work. I guess the stress of it just eats away at the whole family."

She stuffed a bit of cookie into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. "What about you? Where d'you live, Rachelle?"

---

The mattress yielded to Septimus' weight as he settled beside the lizard, shifting her slightly towards him, but Neste didn't process his proximity nor did his words reach her ears. The crack had widened despite her best efforts; her basal ganglia couldn't outrace the machine. The first protocol clicked into place, shutting down her defenses as well as her offensive capabilities, and Neste reeled. Without her nesting basket, her body would be vulnerable.

Thaddeus! Her eyes shot open. Why hadn't she thought of him before? He might have something. A box! A crate! Neste opened her mouth to convey this new possibility to Septimus only to discover that he was sitting beside her.

"Nn-"

He draped his arm around her, putting himself in contact with her skin and unshielded mind. Her thoughts were laid bare, and his became an unintentional assault - she could taste the conflicting emotional and physical responses swirling through him. The harsh realization stung, and the machine viciously seized upon the break in concentration. Neste felt her consciousness plunging into darkness. Her thoughts buffeted them both but did little to alleviate the situation.

No! I have to push him away! Break the connection with him!

Her own processor would have none of it. It didn't see any difference between her consciousness or his. An organic was an organic. It subjected them both to the second protocol.



Don't move. Don't move! Not yet. Wait for light to come, the frightened whine near Septimus' shoulder indicated that Neste was beside him in the dark. This is not the library. We don't have Scel. Oh my god, this is not our dimension.

The ground began to warm beneath Septimus' feet. Neste slipped her hand into his and intertwined her fingers with his own. I don't care how much I repulse you. We don't have time to ponder it. You mustn't let go. Think back to when we met. You mentioned a place to Ambassador Sage. A place where your people kept miles upon miles of data systems that run sequences without pause. It was the embodiment of technological omnipotence, and when you walked within it, you touched a thousand universes. Your Spire.

Her nails pricked his skin as her grip intensified. This place is similar, but it's no Agymnum Spire. This is the Thought Wash of a Convocation. The collective consciousness of a hive mind. Only this isn't the right one. My processor didn't recognize the difference in dimensions. It's very limited in function. We should be standing in the Atonement Hall. We would be, if we were back home. We are not in that Hall now.

Pale pinpricks of light winked into existence, dotting the distance and forming odd constellation patterns. A soft glow illuminated the ground where they stood and Neste briefly turned to regard the cyborg in the dim light. You're all in one piece. Good. Now we wait, and I'll try to find the right tunnel to take us back.

Her ears flicked and she sniffed the air. Another realization set it. The ship hasn't jumped into the warp yet.

Oh god, the fucking processor took my shielding offline.

Neste's expression darkened.

[The Starlight]

Us folks over at IJ realized that the previously stated RP hasn't gotten any recognition here. So here goes, a few good ones in both the present and past iterations of IJ...

Time War
Yesterday

"Michael, you've done it again." The proud, valiant voice of Reed Richards declared, a stretched hand slapping itself on the shoulder of the giant. The giant nodded and smiled, his face bearing immediate resemblance to Maxwell. It should, as Michael is the boy's father. "You're putting chaos and disorder into a neat, single file line at the quantum level. We're so close to it, Michael, I know you can do it. Imagine the good we can do in the world when the equation is finalized." Michael agreed, but a violent cough rattled his chest before he could fully speak. Reed Richards politely waited on the man, the cough sounding awfully sickly.

"Ack...yes, the situation is at hand. Reversibility, a new paradigm in thermodynamics. I wouldn't have had the chance anywhere else but the Baxter Building." Michael said, patting Reed on the chest playfully.

"Nonsense!" Reed replied, "The ideas are in your head. You'd figure out how to get the equation with or without my help, I'm sure of it." The two began to walk and talk, exiting their laboratory and entering the plain white halls of the Baxter Building. Other experiments and scientists were hard at work on theories and experiments of their own design, Reed understanding that science was best left to chance and not constant oversight. "...Beyond that, though, have you decided on a name for the proof? Equation-117/A doesn't exactly have much of a zing to it."

"I've given it some thought, don't get me wrong. From Michael's Equation, Morningstar Proof, and other vain nomenclature procedures, I eventually returned to my history books and ancestry for the answer." Michael said, he and Reed entering an elevator and climbing to the bottom floors. "My family comes from a mixture of Icelandic and Jewish, the melting pot and all, but the idea of the Norse Cycles has piqued my interested a few times. Entropy is like a cycle, a closed system, and this equation offers the chance to end that cycle. The name for that end in the Norse Sagas is Ragnarök, and so, I've chosen that to be the name of my proof. The Ragnarök Equation."

"A bit ominous, don't you think?"

"Slightly so, but it has meaning to me. It will-" Michael said, stopping briefly, resting quickly against a concrete wall of the underground parking garage of the Baxter Building. "Ah..." He groaned, "I feel so...light headed, weak. A pain in the chest..." He gasped weakly. Suddenly, his knees gave out and his eyes rolled around in his head, sending the massive man plummeting to the floor. Mr. Fantastic caught him quickly with his elastic powers, stretching himself out to hit an intercom a little ways away as he picked up Michael Morningstar.

"Alert our emergency services, Doctor Morningstar has collapsed in the garage. I'm bringing him back upstairs, have a stretcher and a room ready." He said, a bit of panic in his voice as he moved from the position to a stairwell, and from there to the ground floor without so much as a second wasted. The medical team was just on the move as Richards arrived, commandeering a medical room and going right to work on determining the cause of Michael's collapse and treating it, all the while giving the behemoth some rest as his vitals stabilized.

---

He was young, but by no means was he a child. His imposing frame was already developing at just fourteen years of age, but instead of being on an athletic field, he was deep into a large book of some sort. Flipping through the pages and reading each section rapidly and remembering instantly, he tore through the old manuscript like wildfire. A quick rap sounded on his door, the muffled sound of words being apparent as Maxwell chose not to respond or break his concentration. Eventually, though, the person on the otherside let themselves in, Max still refusing to look up from his study material.

"Max?..." The feminine voice asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Ulysses."

"Huh?"

"I'm reading Ulysses." He said with some implied venom, "If that's what you wanted to know." The woman placed her thumb on her bottom teeth, wondering what she could do with him. Maxwell was stubborn and rude, like a teenager would be, but intelligent and gifted just like his father. Max's mother, Martha, didn't have to pretend she didn't see it - the dirty looks and stares Max gave to his dad for contempt, or his studying with...less than reputable people to acquire knowledge. She sighed heavily, Max lowering his head in response to bury himself in the book further.

"Max...it's about your father."

"What about him?" He said back instantly, flipping through more pages.

"He's not well. We need to go see him."

"Tell him to take some Nyquil and man up for once."

"That's enough, Max!" Martha scream, throwing Max's book from his desk and onto the floor. She breathed in and out with the scorn only a mother could know, while Max looked at the book and then to his mom with narrowed eyes. "Your father is in the hospital and we're going to see him. We're going to see him..." She said, trailing off for a moment, her anger morphing into a sort of bitter sadness that manifested on her face. "We're going to see him...because he might not make it." She finally managed, the tears cascading down her cheeks and she cupped her face in her hands and sobbed quietly, her shoulders moving up and down as she wept in front of her son.

Max held his head low, looking at his feet and the ground, trying to process what was going on. After all, he was just too young to understand.

---

Maxwell would never forget the sight of his father, the strongest, smartest man he ever knew, full of tubes and machines all designed just to keep him alive, much less conscious through the whole ordeal. Looking over, another imagine was engraved into his mind, his mother as she held a tissue over her mouth and just...whimpered at the scene. All Max could hear was his own heart thumping and the beeps of the machines.

"Mrs. Morningstar, a word, please?" A doctor asked, peeking his head in the room for a moment, Reed Richards standing next to him with a still face. Martha nodded and rose from her seat, leaving Maxwell alone with his father. He was scared, more than he had ever been in his life, but he struggled to know why. He just...just didn't know what to say or do. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his knees for a minute, just a minute, that's all he needed to regain composure. But that didn't work, no, he found small droplets beginning to pool on the floor when he opened his eyes for a brief moment. Picking his head up briefly, he heard a quiet, raspy whisper.

"Max....Come here....son."

He looked up on the bed, seeing his dad giving the faintest hint of a smile, his eyes obviously weak, and his hand gesturing for Maxwell to come over next to him. His next action would haunt him for the rest of his life, and the immediate regret was not something he ever wants anyone to face. It's the reason why the Mad King cannot handle loss well, if at all. He closed to his eyes and gritted his teeth together, not even standing out of his chair as his legs started moving. He ran away. Out of the room, and somewhere else, far, far away within the building.

He burst through a door, only to find himself at the roof of the Baxter Building. He walked forward briefly, tripping over himself and falling down, only to get right back up. His knees and legs wobbled and buckled as he stumbled over to the buildings ledge. Grabbing onto the railing, he squatted down and let out a whimper himself, eventually managing to turn into a quiet wail as the tears came down like raindrops. Rain. That's what he hadn't noticed before - it was like even the sky was mourning alongside him. He needed to be alone, and in that time to himself, Maxwell came to his own terms. He spent a solid thirty minutes in the rain, wiping his snot on his sleeve as he walked back into the building.

Drenched and soaking wet to the bone, Maxwell made his way back down the building's elevators and came to the room where his father was. Outside sat the actual smartest man in the world, Reed Richards, his head facing the floor and his fingers buried deep into his hair. Max stopped, taking a deep breath as he saw Mr. Fantastic in such a state. "Max..." He said solemnly, "I tried everything. I did all I could. Until the very last...minute. He was hit by something we didn't even know about. Entropic cancer - he was bombarded on the quantum level with all kinds of unknown particles in his work. No one knew...not even your dad."

Maxwell took a step back, shaking his head 'no' at the news, "I was too late to save him. He fought until the last second, and then some. It wasn't enough - the entropic cancer delivered microscopic tumors directly to his heart, lungs and brain. It's a miracle he lived as long as he did." Reed looked up, his own eyes red and puffy with obvious signs of mourning. "He never stopped asking for you." He said, the gesture intending to be something else, but Maxwell instantly took it as a blow right to his sternum. Collapsing backward, it was almost lucky there was a bench behind him as Max plopped down. He stared off into the tiles, the people, the ceiling as he sat there, trying to find some meaning to it all. Without his father, it all seemed so...

...Meaningless.

---

"I thought I saw you yesterday," The Mad King spoke, his hands clutching a small arrangement of flowers, "But I knew it wasn't you, Dad." The young kid was a man well off into his own life, his own years ahead of him as well. He was dressed rather casually, and it was only him before the tombstone. "I know you don't like flowers, but I brought them anyways. Conversation piece, right?" He said with a short laugh, placing the arrangement on the soft grass in front of the hard slab. "I just...came to talk."

"I know you look at me and see what the things I've done and haven't done, and I know what you'd say, too. But it's different, ya'know, between thinking you know and actually hearing the words. Sometimes what you think is going to happen doesn't, and life just throws you for another loop." Max said, nervously looking off in the distance and putting his hands in his pockets. "But for what it's worth, I miss you, and every year I come down here, I tell you the same thing. I'm sorry I couldn't say what I needed to say back then. That I love you, Dad." He continued, his own answer being a faint wind.

"But, I also came to tell you something else important. I'm going to get to see you soon. No, I'm not dying, but I have this...thing...I have to do for Victor, and I'll be going across different timelines, past and future, but I'm giving you my word right now that I won't interfere and mess things up. I just want to slap the little shit I was back then, Dad, but the flow of time can't be broken in any way or else I might not be able to fix it. I know you'd be able to help me out in times like these, and that's why I wish I could go back and give you the cure for that cancer. Mom's doing fine, but everyone can tell she's just getting by without you."

"I help when I can, but the Kingdom is a fulltime business. Val's doing fine, too. I'll bring her to see you one day - she's gotten a lot better even since we went to Namek. No more nightmares, just a normal girl, now. Anyways, I just needed to tell you about what I'm going to be doing, Dad. I'll see you next year, I love you." Maxwell said, kneeling down and giving the tombstone a kiss, rising back up and dusting off his knee. He began to walk back to the main path in the cemetery, unknown that he was being watched from afar the entire time.

"Touching." Eon said, floating far back away, hidden by the leaves of a tree, "But death comes to us all, Morningstar. Yours will not be any different." The words did not reach him, but a presence behind Eon quickly grabbed his attention as he flung himself around.

"You think I wouldn't protect my past, Eon? What kind of fool do you take me for?" The imposing figure stated calmly, the form of Mad Max evident as the Endless One gave the young King a snarl. "I can do this all day."

"Let's see if you can do it...Forever." Eon declared, launching himself at Mad Max and taking a swing, Maxwell stepping to the side and ducking swiftly, dodging a follow-up attack that Eon threw a second prior aimed at the back of his head. Mad Max counter-attacked with a wide-arching punch and a straight jab, the jab connecting to the faceplate the Eon wore, sending his head smashing into the back of the helmet and then into the front, the Chronosapien bleeding from the nose at the attack and taking a few steps back before going down to one knee. "Not bad, not bad at all, Morningstar. You may have what it takes to beat me right now, but no man can defeat eternity."

Solar Girl/Sora El/Caroline Kent
Fluttering my eyes, I felt the rays of the sun drifting into my right now delicate body. Like water from a wet rag being dropped into someone's mouth who is dying of thirst. I could still hear the sounds of battle. Just as clearly as if I was there, despite the growing distance between me and it. I drifted into the solar system, gaining warmth from the sun. Powering me, I felt able to move again. My muscles flexed slightly, as I once again tried to regain control over my movements. The dried blood in place on my scalp, face and body. And my uniform tattered and decorated with blood and gravel. Forcing myself back in the direction of Earth, I adjusted my sight to gain a picture of what was happening, even across the great distance. The result, was knowing that the battle was still not going in our favor. Going back to the planet, but somewhat as a trance. Not going back to fight, or even as if it was my own will. Feeling myself pulled like gravity back to the world, I entered the atmosphere. Searching for my son in the chaos, I ventured the battlefield.

Scanning every possible direction for Hal-El. I needed to find my son, knowing what was at stake with the world. I feel like there is some...force, drawing me to find him. Despite what is going on here. I cycled through my vision and spotted him several miles away, right now alone for the moment. Using my power to explode after him, I managed to make it before anyone else to the beach he was on. The matted bangs of my hair, blocking my eyes, I could still take in the boy, and the weakest of smile's found it's way upon my face. Taking small steps toward him, I opened my mouth, to begin to speak.

to warn him to run for safety from the invasion. To tell him to not to worry about me or his father. To tell him how much his mother loves him.

But the only response I could give was a warm embrace. Knowing that it made no sense, I felt as simply being with him in what could be the world's final moments, empowered me more than anything could have before. But our moment was not to last. A cloud of sand was kicked up, and I spun around to get a glimpse of who intruded on us, my eyes burning a crimson red. And seeing my parents forms again. Snarling at them and now unable to restrain myself. Fighting on maternal instinct to protect my son, I bolted at them both. My fists clashed with theirs, but where last I was weaker, I was now stronger. Our vision burned into each other, but where last I was tortured, the both of them felt the intensity of my blasts. And as we compared our speed, where I was outran, now I blasted around them. Powerfully thrusting the two of them onto a large cliff that overlooked the beach, I heaved, preparing a final blow. Charging my heat vision, I was seconds away from annihilating the both of them here, the world as my witness.

But seeing no resistance from the two. My eyes burning heat faded away. Locking eyes with my parents, I saw what I believed they were not capable of. Regret and loss. Falling upon my knees before them. I lowered my head. Tired of it all. Of the fighting, the war and the pain. I could once again feel their figures moving towards me, at first believing they would finish the job, instead, I felt one hand from both of them. Lightly touch against my shoulders. Not harming me, but as I looked up, I saw pained smiles upon them. I tried to return the expression, but behind them, I saw a pillar of green light shatter the sky. Seeing it, before I felt anything, I at first did not know what it was, or where it came from.

But then it came.

Pain. the blinding and searing pain was the only embrace I felt. Wreathing on the ground as large and violent pulses shot from my body, I could not even make a sound to deaden the pain. My skin felt as if it was ripping itself off. My eyes would not allow me to see, as I shifted my form on the sand beneath me. Green coloration began to creep upon my body, as the Kryptonite caused massive and painful reactions in my body, at the cellular level. As if the entire atmosphere was saturated with the poison. Using my own memory to pin point Hal's position on the beach, I used every last ounce of will to pull myself across the sand, which felt like molten magma, and reach him. Knowing that because of him only being half Kryptonian, he would not die, but he would still be in almost as much pain as I.

Forcing my hand to raise. I clutched it with his own. Then pulling him close to my chest, as if doing so would protect him, or help his pain. There were no words, no last good byes. No sounds as the life was brutally drained from every Kryptonian on the planet. And the final moments of my life, seemed to be the closest I have ever come to having a complete family I thought, desperately trying to hang on until Kyoten arrived. But even after minutes, my own strength failed me. As I faded away on the beach, my future, wrapped tightly in my arms. And only in our deaths, did I manage to reunite with my lost parents.

Crusader/Daniel-Atlanta, GA
My bones shook, my skull burned and my body screamed. But at the endless taunting, I fought to stand up. Using almost all the strength I had left, I managed to face my enemy. Who now seemed content to use a weapon. He then strolled over to my shield, and threw it at me. Catching it with my right hand knocked me backward and against a wall for support. "Good, very good. Now for a formal introduction, now that I can see your face Daniel. I am Deathstroke, but you can call me your terminator. And I will be your death tutor." His last words crawled down my spine as he promptly raised his assault rifle and let loose a blast of heavy caliber rounds. Using the shield, with only one hand to brace it. I had to press myself to the wall simply to stay up. Blood poured from my mouth and stained my uniform. And he slowly took steps towards me.

"You have really disappointed me. It seems you are done. And you nearly defeated yourself. Pathetic."

Closer....closer....just a few more feet Deathstroke...come on....COME ON!!!

I screamed inside my own mind. And when he was right over me, with my left hand, I weakly dropped several small grenades at both of our feet. And managed to sneak a kick in on him to push him back just a couple feet and then activated the force field mode on my energy shield. Encasing me in a complete 360 degree shield that the grenades would be helpless to penetrate.

Smoke and debris were kicked up as I struggled to see past the haze.

Come on...did I get him...I doubted the attack would kill him with his armor, but it must have hurt. But as the smoke dissipated. I barely managed to squint past.

NO!

He is gone. Deactivating the shield. I then opened my utility belt. And grasped at some powerful pain meds to help me to block out the pain and focus on the battle. Stabbing the syringe into my thigh I grunted, but they seemed to work a bit. And I was able to stand, and move somewhat more freely. But then a hit from behind. Then another. And another. A barrage of a beating as I struggled to face Deathstroke, again on the ground and clawing to stand up.

"That was a dirty tactic boy. I would have though such a hero would be above such behavior. You surprise me."

I then gave a weak and bloody grin.

"You will find I am full of surprises."

Then, without thinking I went on the attack, using the sonic jump ability in my boots I rocked into him, my shield plowing into him like a steel wall. And forcing him into a wall. With some grunts of pain, he took hold of the shield and grabbed it. Pushing out he eventually over powered me. And before long I was on a knee as he released the shield from my grip. And then pulled two sub machine guns and aimed them at me.

Using the same sonic boots I used to get the jump on him, I lounged back and began to retreat. I fled down the halls with no direction. Racking my brain for a way to turn the tables. However, before I could make another turn, the wall ahead of me was blasted through. And through it stepped Deathstroke.

"A smart prey, your like a rat who knows he cant defeat the cat. And just like the rat, you are corned boy. You wont get away from me." And he again approached me, completely relaxed. As if I could do nothing against him.

"I was just tactically advancing." I smirked as I dropped my shield. Knowing with just one hand, I wont be able to defend and attack at the same time.

So I have to attack. Releasing and extending my titanium bo staff. I held it outstretched in my right hand. And he in turn holstered the smgs. Only to unsheathe two katanas.

"Now, you are speaking my language." He seemed to be enjoying this.

I let loose a battle cry. Charging him with my staff in hand, trying to use superior reach to keep him at bay and knock him off balance. The orchestra of lightning, rain and thunder played a melody of death for this moment. We traded blow for blow. I deflected slice after slice at me. Dancing around each other in melee combat. But he was only getting faster, and more intense. And as my pain began to set back in combined with exhaustion. I was getting weaker.

It was not long before he made the first cut. And then the second. And then the third. After that I lost count. And his every attack added more scars to the collection on my chest, stomach and back. Then, taking the fight into a large and open room. The train lobby, with overturned benches and tables. I made my last stand.

Swiping at him and then kicking a chair at his direction, he made a clean slice through the chair and then made a round house kick that knocked the bo staff from my hands. Now defenseless. He would not even give me the luxury of falling before him. As he then kicked me against the wall, only to take each katana and stab them into each shoulder. As if pinning a poster to a wall. I let out a scream loud enough to split the heavens. And he ripped the shirt and cape from me. Exposing a perfect target of my bleeding chest as he pounded away at me with his fists.

Treating me as if I was a punching bag. And he was training for a championship match by assaulting my chest with his cannon like fists. Breaking several ribs. I eventually stopped reacting to the pain. Just fading in and out. Believing it would never end, he finally pulled the blades from my body. And cleaned the blood from them.

Thinking he would now use this moment for a killing blow. I waited for my fate. But he had something far different in mind.

He used my grapple gun and fired it at the ceiling. Then trying the rope around me, string me up to hang as if decoration from a christmas tree.

"If it were up to me boy, I would have ended your suffering cleanly. But my bosses want a message sent. To all of you." Just awake enough to watch as I dangled above him. Forming a pool of blood beneath me and my only company being a collection of flies who have settled on me. I watched as he proceeded to tape me. And then speak into a camera, with my body still visible in the back ground. As he announced that the camera feed was being sent directly to every electronic on Infinite Justice HQ.

"Take a good and long look. This man may not be recognizable to you now. But I, Deathstroke do assure all of you that this is your commander. So called 'Crusader'. Let his punishment sink in. And know this. You are NOT heroes. Let his mangled and nearly lifeless form be evidence to this. Now be smart. And RUN. Abandon your mission. Starting right now, I have set in motion events that as we speak, is leading to every inmate in Arkham Asylum to breaking out. You, all of you, are out of your league. But if you insist on being heroes. Try to stand against what is coming. And know you will be swept away. But for now, save Gotham. Or save your friend. If you can." And the feed ended there.

My last sight before I fell asleep was of Deathstroke strolling away from me. Leaving me as evidence of his former presnece in this battle.

Solar Girl/Sora El/Caroline Kent-Atlanta, GA
It did not take long to find the location where Crusader's fight was supposed to be. I used my x-ray vision to see he was in the main lobby, somehow hanging. But, I could sense he still had a pulse. I used my speed to be there almost instantly. And stopped dead in my tracks as I realized. I am far too late. With my vision, I could still see he was breathing, however faintly. But his body. There was not an inch of it not covered in blood, or bruised, broken or mangled in almost unnatural ways. I tried to move closer. To speak to him. But no voice or movement came out. After swallowing. Trying to help my desert dry mouth. I inched closer to him, and then untied him. So gently. Tears began to swell in my eyes.

He really looks dead.

My drops splatted against his blood stained hair. And I did not know what to do. So I cried out for help.
"Morgana!!!" I yelled out. Even calling the names of people who were not even here.
"Kyoten!!"
"Speed Demon!"
"D-Dallen..."
Eventually the cries began to soften into soft mutterings.

I brushed a locked of hair, pasted together by dried blood. away from his eyes.

"Someone....help me....help him..."

No one deserves this. No one.

I then looked out at Morgana as she arrived. And then back at him. I set his head gently down on the tile. I then stood up, and over him. My voice no longer pleading. But filled with resolve. Rage building inside me. I then felt my eyes begin to burn. Not with tears, but with heat vision. Morgana could no longer see my pupils with the burning.

"Stay here with him. I can track Deathstroke. He wont get far with me on him. I can track him down, I can run him down and I can beat him down." But feeling the rage control me. I remembered what Crusader once said.

We can always pursue a escaped criminal. We cant give a parent back their dead child.

If it were me, he would see to my safety first. And make sure he would not be telling my father how he let me die so he could take revenge. I then calmed my voice, and looked over at Morgana.

"He needs help. We should take him to Tony Stark, he will be able to help us. And him."

[New Neros]

Kryptonians vs Asgardians. No words can describe the intensity.

Dallen Thomsen

Dallen looked around at the site which had become a warzone. All around, his troops, his legion was being driven back, the heat rays from the eyes of the Kryptonians wearing down the Einherjar armor after time. He looked left, just now, fell Thorin and Fregen, two dear friends. More and more of his men, of each one he had known their names, families and dreams. Each time a body hit the ground, never to rise again, he felt another hammer hit at his soul, hurting him inside due to his powers and sense of loyalty. They were losing, that was obvious, Dallen had lost track of Solar Girl as they had been separated after Dallen had been taken down to earth by two Kryptonians. He had managed to fend them off, them looking for an easier target, for Dallen would not fall easily. They were losing, but his legion would not retreat. The Asgardians, humans and superheros alike fought inch for inch, yard for yard, and for every glade of grass. But they were being driven back, by the powerful attacks of the Kryptonians. Where was Morgana?, he wondered. Her powers of darkness would've been incredibly usual. But Solar Girl's plan had failed, he knew naught why the superheroine had opened the Phantom Zone without consulting everyone. Surely she did not think that all of the Kryptonians trapped for thousands of years would be friendly? But it was not the time for blame. No, this was a time for battle and war and death. He laughed, knowing that this was probably the end. But Dallen Thomsen, God of Combat would not go down easily, no he would fight to the last man and die a glorious death, one which would be told by the bards of Asgard. He would gain entrance into Valhalla, it was time.

Resummoning Silverthorn, perhaps for the last time, he ran his hand reverently down the blade. It had served him well. And now to begin. It was time to let loose all of his abilities, to write the name of Dallen Thomsen in the songs that were to come and the tunes of the Kryptonians who would sing them to their children, singing softly of the menace that was Dallen Thomsen, the Asgardian. He took out his sword, there would be no drawing back any more, too many were dying for him to stop his blade from killing. Seeing a Kryptonian caught with his back to him, Dallen flew forward, but the Kryptonian's hearing was enhanced, allowing him to swing a huge fist towards the Asgardian. But Dallen had thrown a punch of his own, with a weight of thousands of pounds behind it. The Asgardian quickly stabbed and stabbed again, his sword rising again and again, the two combatants fighting back and forth across the battle field. As the Kryptonian prepared a heat ray, Dallen quickly fired his sword's energy bolt directly into the attacker's eyes, leading to a short blindness. After ridding himself of that opponent, he came up behind another and slammed two bronze fists into the Kryptonian's ears, incapacitating him. Again, he could spare no mercy, slaying his foe.

Dallen fought like the fire demons of Surtur, his eyes shining brightly in the heat of battle, his hair standing straight up as he swung his sword over and over and over again. He used varying tactics to attempt and defeat his foes, but soon he was noticed. 5 Kryptonians came for him at once, he saw out of the corner of his eye, Sif and Ellyn being attacked by 5 as well. As the Kryptonians' eyes started to glow red, Dallen quickly raised his sword, deflecting the beams off into the sky. But the eyes started to glow again, Sif and Ellyn had narrowly escaped their own attackers, but the eyes of their opponents began to glow red. Everything seemed to slow. "Is this the end?!?" Dallen shouted up to the heavens, his sweat streaked face thrown back...

Back on Asgard...

Asgard was on high alert, thousands of Einherjar were being marched, preparing for Ragnarok, or the invasion that seemed like the end. They had all seen Dallen's forces being driven back, and if Dallen, General of Asgard and God of Combat was about to be defeated for the first time in his life, they knew that it was surely the end. Odin slept in his chambers, going into the Odin-sleep to attempt and gather as much energy and power as he could. But he too knew, and a silent tear ran down his face, for the falling children of Asgard. His eyes snapped open, he quickly rushed to Odin's vault. He quickly strode past the Orb of Agamotto, the Eternal Flame, The Warlock’s Eye, The Infinity Gauntlet, The Tablet of Life & Time and the cosmic cube, stopping at the last pedestal. There lay Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, forged of the metal of a falling star by the master smiths of the dwarves. Thor had gone missing, not even Heimdall could find the son of Odin. As another tear rolled down his face, he picked it up and whispered: "Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." Dallen had proved himself more than worthy. Forming a portal directly to Dallen, he tossed the mighty weapon into the swirling mass of blue, hoping that it wasn't too late.

Midgard

Dallen recieved no response, as he had expected. Bowing his head, he started to resummon his sword and the mightiest shield that he had, to attempt and block the oncoming blow. But all of a sudden, he heard something whistle through the air. Not knowing why he did it, he held up his palm open in the air, waiting, for something. Then, he felt it, Mjolnir, its short handle in his hand, the warhammer sending a crackling blue lightning up into the sky. Laughing in joy, he leapt up, and slammed the hammer of Thor into his hand, sending forth a blast of lightning and energy through the ground, blasting away the ten Kryptonians who had assailed his family. Summoning a bolt, he leapt to the top of a wreckage, lifting up the hammer for all to see. "FOR ASGARD!!!!!!!! TO WIN OR TO DIE!!! RALLY TO ME!!!! DEATH!!!!!" His legion roared as one, charging as one, surprising the Kryptonians as they charged forward, taking no heed of loss or injury, baying for battle and blood. He tossed Silverthorn to Ellyn, who grinned widely and joined the mad charge. Dallen, taking a running start, leapt down upon the two Kryptonians who had been looking up at him. It seemed like he fell in slow motion, the hammer slowly rising in both hands, before being slammed down with awesome force from Dallen. "For Asgard!!" he screamed once more, before joining the fray. He used all of the capabilities of Mjolnir that he knew, throwing it with tons of force behind it, the hammer whistling through the air crackling with blue lightning, forming craters and flashes of lightning. The heavens opened, as Dallen bended the elements of weather to his will, bidding them, summoning them to battle. They would fight, and they would die. But their ground would be held, and every last drop of their blood would have to be spilled before they surrender. As he fought, a pile of bodies for both friends and foes before him, he shouted, "Day shall come again!" after felling a foe with Mjolnir. And then, he would sing, and every Asgardian, young and old joined him. Those on Midgard and those on Asgard, they all sang.

Tonight we fight,
though no end comes,
still we shall.
All together,
we fight as one.
Never shall we die!

And so the host of Asgard bled and fought and died, for the lives of the Midgardians whom they had sworn to protect. But was this truly Ragnarok? No, that day would come, but it would not be that day, for that day, on MIdgard in the forests of Brazil, Dallen's host fought as one, battling their foes in a glorious battle, one last time. For wrath, for ruin and for death.

[New Neros]

Ascending into Super Saiyan 2, complete with Dragon Ball Z screaming, while collapsing a dimension? Hiroshi win.

Garlic Jr.:

"Why Claudia my dear, And you Garnet, you pretentious wretches, why fight you? Oh no your fate will be much worse." Garlic chuckled darkly, gauging Hiroshi's expression as he dropped the child, letting her bounce across the rocky surface.

Even as a bleeding wreck, that defiant, unbending look was still there. Black energies swirled around him as he began to float, the sky darkening and crackling with the black lightening, the epicenter coming from Garlic himself. Licking his teeth a second later, Garlic started to grin once again, staring down at them all before finally letting loose a howling cackle. This was going to be superb, the greatest example of his mercy on them all. They would all understand the suffering he endured, and they would all receive exactly what they deserved, but most of all, he would see Hiroshi punished for what he'd done to him. He deserved to be punished for believing he could stop him.

"I-I won't give up." Hiroshi huffed, a golden flame wrapping itself around him, sending dust scattering away from him. " No ones unbeatable, especially not someone who has to rely on tricks to win. Your a waste of my time. Your pathetic."

Pathetic?... They call me pathetic. I arrange for Abaddon to be taken out of the picture, and I'm pathetic. I manipulate them all into doing my bidding, and I'm pathetic. I collect the Seven Dragon Balls to obtain enough power to challenge these pitiful Saiyans, and I'm pathetic. I control the fabric of time and space through the Dead Zone... and I'm pathetic?

Rage flooded his veins, the feeling still uncomfortable, as new as these veins were. Everyone who challenged him was going to be punished as they deserved. Hiroshi and these fools would be sent into the abyss for their insolence, then they'd know who was pathetic.

"Every single one of you will pay your resistance." Garlic howled, his features contorted in fury. " You will all know the pain of being locked away for a decade. You will know my fury!"

Slowly, he started to growl as red energy brimmed at the edge of his skin. The world around him began to bend, as space and time were manipulated. In a swirl of blackened energy, the sky itself seemed to rot for a moment, before shards cracked through the very sky. His growl slowly turned into a full scream as he drew in from himself the power needed to not only open a gateway to the Dead Zone, but to open its terrible maw. He would see all of his enemies shown just how pathetic he was.

As if it were glass hit by a rock, the entirety of the sky seemed to shatter, stripping away the blue haze of the Earth's atmosphere, and replacing it with a sole, dark portal. The orb of darkness in the heart of it all began to suck everything in towards it, even light.

Grinning down at the fools below, Garlic just smiled broadly as he started to chuckle.

"The Dead Zone will swallow you up and keep you for all eternity, there's no escape."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Hiroshi:

Moving quickly, Hiroshi snatched Tomia as quickly as he could, hurrying before Garlic noticed he lost his hold on her, just as he felt a great shift in the balance of the world. Everything seemed to almost be sucking him in towards Garlic, towards the beating black heart of the Dead Zone. It wasn't even that however, it was as if everything was displaced. The edge of the horizon on the 'hole', the sphere of darkness in the air, seem to almost make everything around it fall in towards it. It was as if physics were slowly breaking down, and the only thing unaffected by it, was Garlic himself. His maddened cackle swept out over the landscape as darkened energies rolled over his entire body, feeding into the maw, making it grow ever larger.

Even his maddened laughter seemed delayed and slowed, as though time around them was slowing, it was as though everything was being pulled towards the horrible void Garlic had opened.

Rocketing up, he cradled the girl in his arms, keeping her firmly held so he couldn't be pulled away. There was just shallow breathing from Tomia as she watched with terror filled eyes, she watched the world drain way. The rocks on the earth below, then the earth itself slowly, the rubble of the castle, all flew helplessly towards the void. The clouds themselves drained into the blackened hole, and with wide eyes, Hiroshi watched spirals of ocean water be drawn towards the void, all of these things being drawn towards the Earths new center of gravity.

All around them, beyond the delayed echo of Garlics chuckle, all could be heard was the intense wind. The atoms and energy in the air, as it was drawn towards the Dead Zone.

Looking beyond the blackness, Hiroshi couldn't looks beyond the opening of the void. It was more than a planet that could be destroyed by third class warriors, everything about it reminded him of a Black Hole. In his time as a Special operations warrior in his fathers army, he'd witnessed the devastation and destruction these things could cause. He'd watched an entire system be sucked in from something as simple as a miscalculation in orbit. It had destroyed everything within its orbit, before annihilating itself. What should have taken years, would inly take two days, and even fate couldn't stop the destruction it wrought. As the hole had burned in the galactic sky, a circle of superheated gas burning around it, all of it heated by sheer proximity to the collapsing star. A star with a black heart.

But now, as Earths atmosphere was drawn into it, like water down a drain, Hiroshi could truly understand the monster Garlic had unleashed upon not only them, but the entire planet. All noise ceased around them, beyond the howling of matter as it to was drawn in. All around the hole, nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide accelerated to insane speeds before being pulled into the other dimension. Being pulled so closely to one incredibly powerful point, pulled the matter together, lighting the edges of the hole itself, before it was surrounded by almost a golden fire. The light from the sun itself dimmed, as the brightness of the collision of gases nearly taking place around the core of this hole, took ownership of the sky. But still it grew.

Garlic's blackened energies fed into it more and more as it grew in size, more and more. More of the Earth's surface seemed to be sucked towards it. The seas themselves began to rise beyond just tendrils being drawn in, now it was as if the ocean itself was being lifted into the air. Swirling masses of clouds in the air began to wrapped together, pulling towards the Dead Zone.

Looking to his left, Hiroshi saw similar looks of awe upon the faces of his companions, everyone if them as scared and bewildered as he was. They were short on time, and they needed a plan, quickly.

"How do we stop it?" Hiroshi's mind reached out to Claudia, knowing voice would be useless lost in the vortex of noise now emerging along the surface of the Earth for as far as he could understand.

The entire energy of the Earth seemed to shift, and reality itself seemed to begin to lose control. It was as if the entire Earth and its orbit, as well as its rotation, began to shift and change. It was beginning to modify the entirety of the Earth. Everything would be drawn into the Event Horizon, piece by piece, and destroyed, before being cast into another universe.

"Think of something fast," Hiroshi urged himself, his own eyes scanning over the blinding light and eternal darkness, before seeing something beyond, and he knew Claudia must as seen it as well, or least had a basic understand of it.b

Its being held up, opened, and expanded by Garlic's power.

What was the Dead Zone? Where did it come from? That was the bolder question to ask. To answer it, would lead to something at least.

Killing Garlic jr. wouldn't solve anything, he would simply return, his power would never leave. Throwing him into the Dead Zone wouldn't do anything either. But there was a chance he could attack the Dead Zone itself, the very walls, the very structure of the nightmare could be assaulted. It was nothing but nothingness given form and mass. Even now, he tried to understand where it really was in the darkness, and how much it the event horizon was it. Where was the only structure the Dead Zone ever knew?

Turning his head, he looked at Tomia, who clung desperately as his shredded gi as they floated, gripping tightly with both arms, even her broken one. Despite his efforts, he felt himself hopelessly floating towards the vacuum, and even the brilliant golden fire around him was drawn towards it, itself brilliance paled in comparison to the void before them. There was no time anymore, a decision had to be made, for Tomia and the rest of Earth, and he made it. Staring into the void, he could almost see a demon within, looking past the physical of the vacuum.

'Tomia, Can you hear me?'

There was no response, she was to overwhelmed by the noise, the momentum, and the pure awe of all that was happening around her. But he knew she heard, the girl burying her face in his chest and tightening her eyes.

'Listen to me Tomia. I'm going to stop this here and now, but you need to hold onto my back no matter what, no matter how bad it hurts, you have to keep your grip. Trust me, it'll all be over soon.'

The wind was endless and relentless, his entire body was raw from friction, his ears ached from the ferocity of the noise around him, the howling of matter as it was forcibly drawn to the void. But it a sea of nothingness, he felt something familiar.

"What's this!? How can he just stand there?!"

Garlics words rang in his mind, like a slap to the face, unleashing memories long forgotten. No longer was he the warrior of legend, defending his daughter and his new home planet, he was a four year old, standing before this void once more, as his father battled endlessly against this monster, as well,as his late Uncle and mother. They hung onto life and this dimension for their lives, but they couldn't stop it, no one could.

Now this monster wanted to take everything he'd gained, wanted to destroy the universe, his own plaything in his own mind. And he'd kill Claudia, Garnet and Tomia to do so.

He could see the Dead zone for what it was, as he and before, the first time he'd defeated Garlic.

"Hiroshi!!"

His mothers desperate call echoed through him, his heart leaping in his chest, her and his uncles voices melting together, before becoming something more important.

"DADDY!!"

Even as he was drawn helplessly towards the swirling mass of gas and demonic energy, the Halfling put up his first sign of defiance before its power. Golden fire built around him as he used the vacuum of the void to pull himself into position. Orbiting around it, he felt the swirl grow unbearably hot, at this point it was near impossible to breath, and the wind whipped and cut his face, small insignificant cuts dotting his determined features. The noise grew more wild and rampant, and as it reached unbearable levels, Hiroshi anchored himself, a sphere of golden energies surrounding him, stopping his momentum.

Golden fire rolled off of him as he drew his hands to his center, both hands cupped agaisnt his forehead. All energy he had was drawn towards his center, the pain of defeat, driving him. The fear of death, drawing up into him. Rage at everything Garlic had done to him and the people of Earth, feeding the growing pool of power. And desperation to defend Tomia and Claudia rising past it all, his throat burning as he gulped down one final breath of scalding air.

Pulling back his hands, he was nearly overwhelmed by the burning sensation of the fiery power flowing down his arms. Lightening rolled over his form as his hair spiked backwards, his muscles twitching and expanding, veins pumping out around them, bio-electricity rolling over him, swirling around the sphere of golden fire.

Throwing both hands forward, Hiroshi prepared himself for the final release of power, his body twitching with power. The fate of Tomia, Garnet and Claudia all rode upon this attack, hitting Garlic and his hellish vacuum at the right place, and at the right time. The void swirled faster and faster as he drew closer, and for a second, Garlic, in all his confidence and boastful candling, froze in fear before the first Ascended Saiyan in all of history. And in that moment, Hiroshi sneered, before throwing everything he had with one final cry of hatred and fury.

A single sound broke through the the unbearable gusts around them, and for a second, the world slowed around them, as a new source of light was born, born of the hatred and anger of the into Saiyan-Kaioshin in existence.

" GOD'S JUDGEMENT!"

A blindingly gold wave of pure energy cut through reality, more massive then any beam Hiroshi and any being he knew of had handled. The entire mass of swirling has simply stopped in place, it's motion freezing in time itself. The corona seemed to almost break, sending blazing hot gasses in billions of directions. And the wave pierced through the darkness at its core. All at once, the wind stopped and the physics that governed the Earth seemed to crash back into it . Billions of gallons of Water and thousands of tons of broken earth fell helplessly to the earth, scattering across thousands of miles. The rotation of the Earth returned to normal, the orbit seemingly stabilizing, making everything in the following seconds furious and violent.

At the heart of the blackened monster he'd created, Garlic only had time to look into the wave as it descended upon him, seeing the power he'd wanted Hiroshi to give him. It was everything he had, he poured all of his soul into it, and Garlic could reap what he sowed. As soon as it impacted the demon, the unbearable howl of the storm the demon had created was replaced by the immense pulsating noise of the what Garlic could only describe as Gods Judgment itself. A cry of agony, or screams, would have been lost in the wave in seconds.

Without any resistance, the wave continued to curve forward, spilling over the event horizon, and wildly spiraling down into the core of the beast, leaving a spiraling purple corona around the Dead Zone itself. Piercing into the heart of darkness, Hiroshi could feel the edges of reality burning away, as well as the edges of the very fabric of the Dead Zone. As the pillars which held up the dimension eroded, something terrible began to form on the other side of the Dead Zone itself. All of the matter it'd consumed in its very being, began to exist in a small, and smaller state, packing together more and more tightly as his beam cut into the darkness, burning away the only things which kept the emptiness in existence.

Looking on as the swirling purple and black mass began to become less and less stable, Hiroshi's eyes widened when he realized exactly what he'd done. There was so little energy left in his reserves however, he had no ability to raise his defenses. In a blur of motion, he felt someone appear in front of him, feeling a shield expand around him.

Suddenly, the storm of chaotic energy and a dead reality, turned from an eternally dark realm, to pure light. The last thing Hiroshi could remember seeing, was the air itself catching fire, and the seas coming ablaze, before the shock-wave hit the shield. It buckled, and suddenly everything went dark.

[Tiltjuice]

Character building and accounting for a timeskip and reacting to current events and showing inner thoughts and interaction. Extremely well written and a pleasure to read.

Oosterscheldekering Dam Base
Emilie Girard
The day before

---

Emilie looked down at Artem with a surprised expression. It wasn’t the whole sentimental sense of debt which struck her, but rather that she was certain that the presently bed-ridden Czech was being clear-headedly serious. Wounded soldiers, their minds somewhere off in fairy-land thanks to the combined effects of bloodloss or anaesthetics, often times wound up declaring their eternal gratitude to their saviours. Emilie had had some idiot pledge to marry her at one point: would have made for an interesting conversation-starter with the man’s wife. Medics learn to filter it out – along with the screaming – and concentrate on their jobs, bills need to be paid after all. But there was something about the conviction in Artem’s tone, the way in which his eyes looked at her, that caused her typical retort to get stuck in Emilie’s throat.

The woman smiled without even realising why, feeling a strange comfort from the pledge. Her reaction was so unexpected, that for a moment she didn’t know quite how to react.
“I’ll keep your number handy then. Might take you up on that offer and cash a –“ She paused as she realised that Artem’s eyes were already closed shut, and his battered chest was rising and falling in a calm, rhythmic pattern. The medic shook her head in disbelief, Ah bon, probably for the best. Cash a Czech? Stupide. Emilie left the wounded warrior to get his rest, making her way for the Medbay’s exit.

“We’ll see how he’s recovered in the morning, Alexei. The bruising is going to stick around, but is manageable – his ribs are going to hurt like a salope though.” Emilie yawned again. Artem needed his sleep to allow his body to recover, and the sedatives should help him get it – but she felt like she needed to hit the sack herself. She turned to the other medical officer. “I’m going to call it a night.” She slapped Alexei on the shoulder as she walked past him, making her way to the door and – eventually – an uncomfortable, but more than welcome, bunk in the barracks.

---

The Present Day

The warm water of the shower was like an intoxicating breath of fresh air for Emilie’s strained muscles. The intense exertion of the demanding workout seemed to be flowing away with the water down the drain, along with the unwanted memories brought up by the previous-night’s dream. Emilie felt a sense of achievement form having met her routine, in spite of her still jet-lagged fatigue, and relished the reward of the early-morning shower. She knew all too-well that the warmth was well worth the early rise: it didn’t take long for the hot water supplies of a crowded military facility to disappear, and Emilie wanted to take advantage of every second she had access to the luxury.

The woman’s stomach growled loudly in the steam-filled shower, reminding her that she had yet to grab a bite from the mess. Emilie thrust her face under the streaming water, ignoring the demands of her gut. The food would stick around for a while longer, the hot water wouldn’t; she could afford a few more minutes –

“Yellow Alert. Lieutenant Gordon, Sergeants Hath, Lorenzen and Socarux, Lance Corporal Chen, PFC Farkas, and Recruits Ackermann and Allen-Montgomery, please report to Hangar Two in ten minutes."

The voice blared out across the intercom, cutting off Emilie’s train of thought. She listened intently, ignoring the impact of the water droplets on her head. Once it had finished, she let out a sigh – of relief or disappointment, she wasn’t entirely sure. Her name hadn’t come up, and so she still had the chance to enjoy her little moment of bliss. She smirked as she imagined the poor sods who had just been awoken to a ten minute warning for a deployment, not feeling in the least bit jealous. Still, she hoped they all kept their heads and didn’t do something stupid that ended up getting them all killed.

Suddenly, Emilie’s eyes shot open in surprise – one of the names from the announcement firing alarm bells in her mind.

Hastily tugging on the tap to turn off the shower head, Emilie accidentally unleashed a torrent of freezing Dutch water. “Zut!” She cried out in both shock and anger as the icy flood singed every piece of skin it touched, burning her nerve cells and eliciting an inelegant scramble to shut off the flow. The woman gritted her teeth, infuriated that in a moment she'd gone from refreshed to shivering – but there wasn’t time to curse whoever had designed the shower. Practically throwing herself out of the cubicle, Emilie grabbed her clothes and started throwing the different articles over her still-soaked figure, muttering the occasional expletive along the way.

---

Emilie burst out of the gymnasium while hopping on one foot, still trying to force her left boot on as she went – colliding with the opposite wall of the corridor for her efforts. “Bugger it!” She cursed as pain shot through the shoulder that had borne the brunt of the impact. Emilie threw what clothes she still had yet to put on to the floor: a tank-top, boots and trousers would have to suffice. How long did she have left? The announcement over the intercom had said ten minutes, but at least one should’ve already passed and the gym was on the opposite side of the base to the medbay.

Emilie sprinted headlong through the corridor, screaming at anyone in her way to move themselves or physically shoving them aside if they hadn’t yet got to their morning Joe. She skidded around another corner, her eyes darting to signs and room names as she promised to go over the layout of Ooster properly before the day was out. Finally, she came across a door with ‘medbay’ emblazoned above it, and better yet, she saw Dr. Chakwas leaving from the clinic.

“Dr. Chakwas, sir!” Sliding to a halt before her superior officer, Emilie offered a breathless salute. “I need to talk to you about the team being sent on the mission, one member in specific.” What is it? Two minutes? Less? The older Doctor gestured for her to continue, his eyes still showing evidence of an inadequate night’s sleep and implying that he had yet to consume enough of the caffeinated beverage in his hand to alleviate the symptoms. “Sir, with all due respect, I have to insist that you pull Recruit Chris Ackerman from the op team. He was involved in the operation yesterday, and has only had hours to recover. He wasn’t wounded as severely as some of his squadmates, but fatigue can be just as deadly.” Emilie spoke without pausing, well aware that time was ticking down against her, but had to can it when the grey-haired Doctor raised a hand.

“Private, what time is it?”

The question was not what Emilie had been expecting, and it took her a moment to respond. “It is, ah,” she glanced quickly down at her watch only to realise in dismay that it was strewn along with the rest of her discarded uniform outside the gym.

“The correct answer is that it is early, Private. Too damn early for me to deal with this soft-skinned bullshit, file a complaint and be done with it – I’ve got better things to do. Recruit Ackerman suffered a minor graze to the arm, nothing that would prevent him from doing his duty, and he’s got experience against the enemy. That’s valuable.”
Emilie resisted the urge to tell the Doctor exactly what she thought of his assessment, and rather – for once – tried to swallow her pride. “Sir, it is not the safety of Recruit Ackermann which I believe to be in danger. His wound may still impair him in combat, and his actions yesterday are still the subject of review – he may have placed one of his squadmates in danger by his reckless actions. By being sent out so soon after such an op, the lives of his comrades are once again being gambled needlessly. I feel that I am morally obligated to –“

“Can it, would you?” Emilie stopped immediately. Dr. Chakwas sighed, rubbing his temples with his free hand. “Trust me when I say that all this has been considered. Contrary to what many believe, I do know how to do my job. Besides, you’re about one minute too late – the squad’s already departed.” The doctor shrugged in response to Emilie’s distraught expression of disbelief. “Even if I wanted to pull Ackermann, I can’t.” Chakwas looked at the young woman, feeling a pang of sympathy for the medic – knowing full well the thoughts that were screaming for attention in her mind. “Look, Girard, you’re good at this – that’s why you’re here – but the big honcho’s upstairs have a bigger picture than we do. You’re right, nothing else considered I’d make the same decision that you have, but it’s out of my control. The boys and girls who pull the strings have made the call that experience trumps legitimate medical concerns in this instance – if you don’t like it, file a complaint. But I don’t think it’s worth your time.”

Emilie mulled the words over, coming to the realisation that Chakwas was right. She sighed in defeat, but felt a pit of unease forming in her chest – her own powerlessness in this situation and the menacing threat of all the unknowns weighing down upon her. “You’re right, sir. I shouldn’t have questioned your judgement as Head of Medical.” Emilie suddenly felt a surge of awkwardness, feeling ridiculous at what must have looked like a crazed sprint through half the base and ending with nothing to show for it. She must look pathetic, standing there soaking wet and with the laces of her boots lying untied at her feet.

“Get something to eat Private, don’t let something like this get to you – it’s going to be one of the easier moments in all this.”

Emilie nodded in response, saluting once more before turning to make her way back towards the gym.

“And Girard,” She turned back to look at her superior, who was smiling helplessly at himself. “Next time you come running from the showers, try not to think a bit more before wearing a white tank top.”

[Greater Soviet Ukraine]

School Rooftop, Union City

2nd Lieutenant Zane "Irish" O'Malley, the operator of the Sentinels 3rd Special Operations Squad, sat on the rooftop, watching as the helicopter flew off, on its way out of the city.

Irish's breathing was ragged, and his head throbbed. Irish pulled his sleeve up and looked at his arms. The veins on his arm looked black and sickly, no doubt from the disease or virus or whatever it was coursing and spreading through him. He leaned his head back and unfastened his helmet, tossing it off the roof with a strained throw. Not like he needed it anymore.

Zane leaned against the backpack that was open, the circuitry spilled out of the top. Koopa had managed to install and rig a simple button-press detonator on the nuke so Irish could "push and poof." It was a deceivingly simple mechanism for such a destructive force. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, smiling as he thought of Koopa, and then each of his teammates in turn, both living and dead. They'd all been his friends, idols, confidants, friendly rivals. Some of them were dead, now, killed aboard the Revelation. The rest were flying away, out of the city in the helicopter. He'd ensure the living would continue while simultaneously meeting again with his old friends.

A gasping sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his weight. Zane wasn't a completely religious man, but he could see the value in praying right now. He could definitely see the merit in it now...

A blinding glare caught Irish's eye. He looked and saw it was in the direction of the Revelation. The glint was so bright, Irish had to quickly look away while his throat caught. He knew what that was, on the other side of the city. He knew it was the blast, and he knew it would only be a couple seconds until the blastwave got to him.

Irish placed his thumb over the black button and blinked a tear away. He could just see the faces of Peters, Stein, and Mosconi. They were smiling and waiting for him. Irish smiled back as he pressed down on the button. The faces of his friends were suddenly whited out by an intense flash of light and what felt like a warm breeze, and then Zane O'Malley joined his friends.

[Luxdonia]

That was it - the White Rat. The tavern lay ahead on the dark road, surrounded by trees and foliage, and isolated from civilisation. Harris knew the tavern was where he'd be found. He needed a plan of attack - he couldn't just walk in there. He was fast - he didn't quite know how fast, maybe even faster than a centaur. But, he couldn't tell. He hid in the bushes by the side of the road, held out his arm, and whistled.
Before he had time to blink, Arnold was on his arm, perched and eager to begin.
"Looks like an average tavern. Two guards out front - like normal."
Harris looked at the tavern, analysing every detail, "Is it a law-abiding establishment?"
The eagle cocked his head to one side. "It might be."
"And it might not be," Harris replied, checking that his bow was on his back and making sure he had a number of arrows prepared, and a jacket covering his back, "Let's err to the side of caution. Can you help if the guards stop me?"
Again, Arnold gave an uncertain look, before continuing, "I may be able to. We'll have to see how much of a fight they put up."
Harris nodded, before continuing as stealthily as he could towards the inn.

---

"So, how was your shift last night?"
"Not too bad. We had a couple o' the King's men come in. We sent 'em away easy enough. So, about you? I heard you made quite the night in the city."
The first guard guffawed loudly, "I sure as heck did. Me and, err... What was her name again? Angela! Boy-oh-boy, she was a good-un."
"Might get me-self some o' that. Tell you what, though. I'm hoping today is quiet enough."
"You'd be wrong in that assumption."
Amidst the slow creaking of the bow, the guard turned around to see Harris standing, bow drawn, and pointed cleanly at his head.
"Stand aside, and we'll let you go." Harris made no mistake in his tone. He was threatening. As the first guard slowly moved, the second stealthily pulled out a throwing dagger. As he threw, Arnold caught it in his claws, and in a flash, the encounter was over.

---

The sound of horse's hooves was nearly drowned out by the partying in the tavern itself. Harris saw the man he was looking for, sitting at the counter, head low, drinking a glass of mead. He approached the bartender, stood just to the right of the man he was after and ordered a glass of mead. The bartender offered him a confused look, but obliged.
"I hear the sport in the city is good this year," Harris said as the mead was brought to him. He put two coins on the counter and took a sip.
Not looking up from his mead, the man replied with a question; "What sport?"
Harris gave a short chuckle, "You know what I mean. Pockets full with last-season's money, all ripe for the taking. Yes, quite a sport indeed."
The man drunk further, paying no attention to Harris' comments. Once he had downed the glass of mead, he produced a bulging purse and counted out two more coins from the vast mass of gold.
"My my. How did you score that? No, don't tell me," he put his fingers to his temples in order to look like he was thinking hard, "An older noble, yes? Grey hair, short, but not hunched. A bit pudgy with his age. Name..." he clicked his fingers twice, "Well, you don't really need a name."
The man looked puzzled, and but kept staring at his glass, "How on earth do you know that?"
Harris, ignoring the question, spoke once again to the bartender, "Also, can I have some mead for the horse? He gets quite thirsty."
The man finally turned to face Harris, forgetting in his haste to look down, "You can't give mead to a horse! It's a waste of the stuff!"
The centaur gestured downwards with his head. The man looked down, seeing that Harris was a centaur for the first time. Suddenly shocked, he ran out of the tavern at lightning speed. Knowing it would only disrupt the guests to turn quickly, he laughed slowly and downed his mead. He put it back on the table and spoke to the barman.
"By the way, you may need two more guards."
He turned around and walked outside. By the time he had reached the doors, the man was pinned to the floor by Arnold.
"Get... This eagle... Off of me!"
"Now now, that wouldn't be fair," Arnold replied, "I like it this way."
Harris smiled and crossed his arms, "Right. I think I'll take him from here."
Arnold obliged, and Harris leaned down and took him by the scruff of the neck.
"Thievery isn't nice," he said, before knocking him out with a blow to the head.

---

The man awoke next to two other men, neither of whom he recognised. He looked up and saw Harris standing unarmed, arms crossed. He tried to get up, and realised that they were all tied together.
"Have fun trying to get out of this situation," he said, producing the money which he had taken from the thief, "I'll make sure to give Lord Meriadoc your regards."
The man, still struggling, shouted at Harris, "You half-horse bastard! I'll make you pay for this! Just who do you think you are?"
Harris stopped, and turned his head, "I'm Harris - the Centaur."
And with that, he galloped away, and down the road towards the city.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

A melodious but frail voice at the twilight of life could be heard speaking softly inside the room.

"Oh, yes, that day. I remember it as if it was yesterday..."

It was a cool winter morning; on the northern half of Earth, at least. But I wasn't there that morning. I had wanted to take a small trip after designing a new engine for the ISSR spaceship model, and I had decided to visit some old friends in our Hell, so that morning I was at Hell's Garden, a park of sorts right in the middle of Pandaemonium, Hell's capital city, which was built to replace Dys after the Abrahamic War and contiinued to grow under Alastor's rule. Hell had prospered quite a bit under his rule even back then, really, especially after he married the Queen of another Hell. I've only heard stories of how it was before he seized power, and it's a paradise in comparison. But anyway, Hell's Garden is a very beautiful place, full of trees with leaves of many colors and all sorts of exotic plants. I'm pretty sure I've shown you all the drawings I made of it, oh, and Lillia, you've probably seen it yourself. I heard it was a wedding gift of sorts from the Demon Lord to his wife Alia, which goes to show love can literally trascend our reality.

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was at Hell's Garden talking to a friend who saved me a couple times during the war ten years ago, Ciel Taka, who was good friends with the Queen of Both Hells, apparently. You've probably heard of her; she quickly monopolized production of cannolies across the world. She introduced me to her child, though I was rather confused when she said she and her husband were expecting another, since she didn't seem pregnant at all. I chatted a long time with her, and also with the King of Both Hells, who was my old teacher at Elfen High, as you know. He had plenty of children too, I lost count of how many, to be honest. Lisa, you're engaged to one of them, aren't you? Yes, yes you are. I'm sure you'll be very happy together, he's a good man.

It was a pleasant morning at Hell's Garden, but like most things, it had to end- Oh, don't make that face, Liam. Come on, smile for your mother. See? That's much better. Anyway, I had a busy schedule with my new job as an ISSR engineer, and when I received a call about an urgent meeting with the rest of my team, I had to leave. Fortunately, as I was saying farewell to my friends, the Demon Lord offered to teleport me back to the center of Paris, so I wouldn't have to walk very long to get to the office.

What I didn't expect, though, was that it was raining in the city when I arrived. The streets were empty and the clouds were pouring waterfalls on the City of Lights, so I quickly put myself under the cover of the overhang of the entrance of a nearby restaurant and pulled out my notepad to draw myself an umbrella. From where I stood, I could see that it would only be a few blocks until I reached the office, so I began leisurely walking there while appreciating the sight, because Paris, as I had found out long ago, was a very beautiful city under the rain, though the numerous puddles weren't quite as beautiful.

As I walked, though, I noticed someone following me. At first I didn't pay him much attention; surely he's just another person with an unfortunately-timed appointment, I told myself. But soon I realized that wasn't it at all, and he seemed to notice as well, because he started catching up. I tried to pull out my notepad and draw a weapon to defend myself with, but my luck was such that I stumbled and dropped it on a puddle, making it useless. I stood there in shock for a moment before turning around, only to see that my stalker was right next to me by now. He was a werewolf- yes, Lillia, just like in the song, though this one was far less friendly. Most of them were adapted to society by now, but this one clearly wasn't, so I brought up my umbrella to try to defend myself, while shouting for help, because I knew I couldn't fight off that thing on my own. All my life I've been an artist and a designer; I was a soldier once, but never really a fighter, though I wasn't too bad with that umbrella, for some reason.

It still made a poor weapon, though, one that the werewolf easily tore apart after a bit, but just as I was going to try to bite my finger and draw something else to defend myself with, a bolt sailed past my head and into the creature's chest. It screamed before collapsing to the ground, and I winced at the sound, the death throes of a beast are not very pleasant to hear, after all. I was confused, wondering who had saved me, but then I saw him, wearing that silly red cape of his. His blond hair was long back then, tied up in a ponytail, but his moustache was just as absurd as it was eight years ago. To me he looked perfect, though. To me, he always looked perfect.

"Silver-tipped crossbow bolts, they never fail putting down these beasts. Oh, some werewolves think that it's unfair for us to keep these in stock when they're trying their best to blend in with our society, but what do they have to say about these incidents, hmm? Ah, but where are my manners. I am Alexei, a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. I hope that this beast has not caused you too much trouble."

Don't laugh, Lisa. Yes, that's exactly what your father said, and he even bowed to me at that last part. I was speechless, barely able to thank him and say my name. I must have been blushing furiously as well, because he caught on instantly and offered to walk me home, saying that I was probably scared after such an incident and that it would be very ungentlemanlike of him to refuse to offer his support during such time, that sort of thing. His boss and some of his associates appeared soon after, though- Yes, Lisa, I'm talking precisely about that man. I probably wouldn't have noticed him there, focused as I was on trying not to make a fool of myself in front of your father, but I recognized him. I recognized that steely gray hair of his, that stern gaze, the aura of power that seemed to surround that man at every moment.

Oh, yes, the machine gun tipped me off, too.

I think he recognized me too, because he did a double take and then told Alexei not to take too long in heading back, instead of taking him away with the rest of his apprentices and going back to the Society's headquarters. Your father looked at him, nodded, and then turned to me with a smile, offering his hand. I was still surprised from having met that man in Paris, it was a stunning coincidence, but either way, I smiled back and took his hand as we started walking back towards my apartment, chatting awkwardly at first but warming up to each other very quickly.

I nearly got fired that day, but to this day I still look at you and tell myself it was worth it.

"And that's the story of how I met your father. I know I've told it a lot, but I felt like telling it again." The voice concluded with a tiny laugh.

But then came the coughing. Lyra's health was quite fragile now. She was old, after all. The hair on her head was still white, but now it was thin, frail, and her skin was wrinkled and creased, though she smiled even through all of this, she smiled for her children, who sat beside her as she lay in bed.

Three in total, they were. Two of them women, and one of them a man. Lisa, Liam, and Lillia were their names. Liam and Lisa were twins, nearly identical to each other, one sporting short hair and the other long. They took after their father in both looks and hair color, though they had Lyra's eyes. Lillia, however, was the living image of her mother when she was younger. She had the same soft features, the same white hair. She was the youngest of the three, being five years younger than her siblings. All of them were Lyra's beloved children, though all of them had lives of their own by now.

Liam had taken after his mother, in a sense, as he was a world-renowned artist, famous for his uplifting depictions of how the world was progressing, having healed after the myriad of wars and destructive conflicts Earth and Hell and the other realms had gone through in the past several decades, wars that he had not seen, but whose longer-lasting effects he was able to observe. He had been in many a relationship, but none of them lasted very long due to his fleeting nature, and so, he remained alone. A new muse had visited him as of late, however, so perhaps that was the one?

Lisa on the other hand, had taken after her father Alexei. Alexei had taken the mantle of leader of the Slayer Society after the death of the first High Executioner and founder of the society, Frederick, and now, that same mantle had fallen on Lisa's shoulders, as her father had died eight years earlier in an unfortunate accident. Whereas her twin brother was emotional and artistic, she was stoic and sarcastic, making many a person wonder how they could look so similar yet be so different. Years of leading an order of hunters of supernatural threats to humanity had hardened her, though she still had a soft side, as evidenced by her engagement to Aldurn, twenty-seventh prince of Hell.

Finally, the youngest, Lillia, had taken a far simpler path than either of her siblings, settling down in Pandaemonium and setting up a convenience store. She was fairly successful in her endeavors, simple as they were, and lived comfortably in the capital city of Hell, dating a police officer. She was also the only one among her siblings to have inherited Lyra's gift, as even though the others had some of her artistic savvy, she was the only one who could will art into existence. Of course, her mother had taught her extensively about the uses of this power and the responsibility of having it, and Lillia was a woman of strong morals, so she never abused her power, and only used it for the benefit of her community.

All of them sat beside Lyra on that day, that fateful day when her story finally came to an end.

They spoke for a moment- Hours, perhaps, but it was but a moment, an instant in her long life. But then, her children looked at her with sadness. They had displayed remarkable emotional fortitude in the face of such an event, as it had been long in coming and she had discussed it extensively with them, mitigating the impact, but even then, she could read the great pain they bore by just looking at their faces. None of them said anything anymore, and she wondered why, but then, after a moment, she understood everything.

There was a fourth figure beside her.

"I TRUST YOU HAVE LED A GOOD LIFE?" The fourth figure asked. Lyra nodded, a smile on her face.

"I know that this is probably the last thing you expected to hear, but it's nice to see you again." The old woman stated. It was Death's turn to nod.

"I DID NOT EXPECT THAT, NO." The shrouded figure conceded. "ARE YOU READY TO COME WITH ME, LYRA?"

"Yes, I am. But could you give me just a moment?" She said as she sat up on her bed- a feat that she would never have been able to accomplish in her frail state, had she still been alive. But this was only her soul now.

"IF YOU WANT MORE TIME WITH YOUR FAMILY, I'M AFRAID I CAN'T-" Death began, but was swiftly interrupted by the old woman's giggling.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I have had more than enough time, thanks to many people, you among them. No, what I wanted was to give you a parting gift." She said.

Death paused. "A PARTING GIFT?"

"Yes, a parting gift. I imagine your job is very lonely, and while I can guess you have grown accustomed to it, I still want to ease your burden, if I can. Of course, if you don't want to think of this as charity, then you can think of it as me replacing what I once gave you." Lyra said. Then, she pulled a white crayon from behind her ear. Nobody ever noticed it there, concealed as it was by her snowy hair, but she always kept it there, right up until her death. She knew it would be useful to her one day, and indeed, it was.

Using this white crayon, she drew something on Death's somber cloak, and willed it into reality. A humanoid figure, of stony skin to withstand eternity, with long strands of hair black as Death's hood, and bright beads of glass for eyes.

"It can make terrific tea." She smiled, recalling a servant she had long ago, a servant that Death was well acquainted with. "It is bound to you now, so it can be with you forever." Her smile grew wider. She had helped a friend.

"We can leave now."

And so, Lyra left this world with a smile.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The team geared up.

Clark Harris changed into a brown three-piece suit and a trenchcoat. His shoes were shiny. He carried a 1911, a revolver, grenades, two knives, brass knuckles, and a BAR variant half the weight of Matt's Heavy BAR. He looked like a Chicago gangster. He handled the weapons with practiced ease. He looked deadly.

Ariel Remington grabbed a Thompson submachine gun. She, too, looked like she knew what she was doing. She grinned as she examined the weapon. Commandos, Matt thought.

Adrienne Lapierre picked up a bolt-action rifle and murmured over it in French. Matt felt the hair stiffen on the back of his neck. It was not an ordinary rifle. Matt nodded thoughtfully to himself.

Robert Karlmann grabbed a pump-action shotgun and a bandolier of shells, and stuffed a Luger in his boot. He looked ridiculous. Matt felt some of his fear about the man dissipate. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who looked so powerfully like a child playing dress-up.

The team's two espers both reacted to Polikarpova's appearance. Anatoly strolled over carrying a PPSh-41. He shoved a Tokarev pistol into his holster, and sheathed a knife. The esper nodded at Miss Polikarpova's Mosin-Nagant. "Is good weapon, strong like Union. I used to use one in Minsk when Nazis took over, is good for soldiers. Da."

It was an absurd thing to say. It was a gesture that suggested profound decency. Polkarpova appeared to ignore it. Matt smiled quietly to himself, and remembered why he had come to London in the first place.

From the other side of the armory, Milena gave Polikarpova a ferocious glare.

Sure enough, Polikarpova replied to Matt telepathically. Matt had been expecting something of the sort, but when a voice actually spoke in his head, it still came as a shock. The only voice that Matt had ever heard in his head was his own. Now he heard a woman's voice: clear, almost ringing, speaking perfect English. Matt felt his eyes go saucer-wide.

"About 550 meters with optics in most combat situations," Polikarpova's voice said, "but sometimes I can feel the bullet out of my eye range and make some adjustments to the trajectory to gain a little more distance. Using only the ironsights, I am generally on point up until 185 meters. Adjusting bullets is easier on a closer range, too. I unfortunately don't know their exact equivalent in yards. Is there anything else you need to know about, comrade Beecher?"

That was impressive accuracy. Matt felt a sudden impulse strike him. Inspiration? More like inference. Matt concentrated slightly, and formed his thoughts into words.

Thank you, Comrade Polikarpova. The form of address came more easily to Matt than he would have expected, for all Matt's loathing of Stalin and his ilk; after all, Polikarpova was a comrade-in-arms. I take it then that you are - Matt paused, rummaging through his mental library of Classical roots, searching for the right words - telekinetic as well as telepathic. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Matt watched Polikarpova's eyes. They were studying his weapons, his body armor. Polikarpova smiled. Matt saw understanding flare in her eyes: recognition, as if of a long-lost family member. The esper's voice spoke in Matt's head again. "Comrade Beecher, your consciousness feels different from the one of an ordinary human. I take it you aren't one?"

Matt smiled quietly. He took a deep breath. He let the woman's cool voice into his mind, to witness and observe. He remembered.

Winding concrete tunnels beneath the New Mexico sands. Men in white coats and surgical masks staring down. The needle hooked to his arm, its tube leading up to a bag of high-concentration raw testosterone solution. The soreness at the sides of his neck blossoming into agony. The feel of creeping death as tentacles of cancer ate their way through his body. The heat, a furnace in the core of his chest, burning him up. The hallucinations swirling at half-blinded eyes melting from fever. The hair falling out, the fingernails falling out, revealing skin red and flaking. The sound of his skeleton creaking all through the night as it stretched. The feel of the tube scraping its way down his throat. Darkness.

Light.

The feel of being trapped in his own body. The blessed relief when the electroshock relinked synapses and let him talk. The discoveries: six more inches of height, a hundred and fifty more pounds of muscle, a breastplate of fused ribs beneath his skin. His bones were hard as iron; he could dent steel with his bare hands and suffer no injury. He remembered pens snapping in his too-big, too-strong hands. Running fast enough to keep up with an automobile. Learning to live again in a world that was too slow and too fragile. Learning to be grateful.

Matt's clear blue eyes stared directly into Polikarpova's red ones: open, frank. They said: understand.

No, Matt thought in words once more. I suppose I'm not an ordinary human. The American glanced at Clark, at Barnes. But who among us really is?

As if to underscore that point, Matt smelled werewolf-scent: raw meat, rank sweat, wet fur. A massive creature stepped out of the changing room. It looked like a gigantic wolf with the body proportions of a human; it stood eight feet tall, and had to be close to five hundred pounds. It had claws. It had teeth. It wore a sash and a loincloth, and it carried an anti-tank rifle in one massive paw-hand. It was stuffing equipment into a pack. Its claws worked dextrously.

It was Markus. Matt had no doubt. The creature looked titanically strong. But it was still ordinary muscle and bone, and Matt was not. If he could get his hands on the wolf, he could hurl it across the room. If Markus sank his claws into Matt's chest, they would rebound off Matt's ultradense ribcage. The monster was not invincible. Size mattered less than speed, and strength, and training. Matt had no reason to be afraid.

Which didn't mean that there wasn't a small mammalian part of Matt's brain that was gibbering in terror at the sight of something that big, with that many teeth.

"Well," Matt remarked to no one in particular, "at least now we know that we'll blend in with the locals in Warsaw." The Minuteman grinned ruefully and shook his head.

Matt saw Polikarpova staring across the room. Her eyes rested on the young girl who had shouted about God during the briefing. The girl was staring at the weapons, biting her lip. She muttered under her breath; Matt's enhanced hearing caught the words. "I don't know. I shouldn't be arming myself with any of these. It's just... damning for me."

I understand, Mack thought. My God, but I understand.

Dismay flashed over Polikarpova's face. She took a step toward the girl. The girl's head snapped up. Matt recognized the signs of telepathic communication.

That might not be the most comforting way of approaching someone who's already full of doubt.

For his part, Matt strolled casually up to the girl. He towered over her; she didn't even reach his shoulder. Matt leaned against the wall, about arm's length from the girl, knees subtly bent so that their faces were closer to level. The Minuteman's blue eyes were very gentle, and they searched his young companion's face.

"You know," Matt remarked quietly, "I wasn't born like this. I was made this way by the U.S. government. I volunteered for it. I still pray every day about that. I ask God if it was the right decision."

"Until I volunteered, I had never shot a gun before." Matt shook his head. "Never. My parents were missionaries. We didn't use guns. And all of a sudden, there I was, and there was this rifle pressed into my hands. Death. Death in wood and steel. It was horrifying."

Matt gently lifted a Sten gun down from the rack of weapons. The stamped-metal sub-machine gun looked almost like a toy in Matt's enormous hand. The Minuteman's bass voice was very soft, gentle, like a father telling his child a bedtime story.

"So I prayed that night. I prayed for the strength and the courage to trust my country, and myself. I prayed for the strength and the courage not to be destroyed by having to live in the presence of this death-tool. I prayed for the strength and the courage to remain whole."

"And the next morning, I picked up my rifle, and learned to kill. I walked into the darkness, and found God waiting for me there."

Matt smiled sadly. Faint wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He said: "Faith doesn't mean that we have all the answers. It means that we can find the courage to step off the cliff, because we know that God is there to catch us when we fall."

Matt held out the Sten gun toward the girl. "My name is Matt," he said quietly. "Will you come and have faith with me?"

[Charlia]

Seeing the monster Shojiro smiled.
"Finally some intertainment," he said.
He began walking towards the boss. After several steps his walk turned into a jog, and then into a run. About 8 metres from the beast he drew his sword, as it unclicked the stripes on his armour turned black. The plates moved closer to one another, becoming almost like a skin-fit suit, rather than heavy armour. Eien no Hono (his blade) remained by his side as he closed the remaining few metres. The monster swung at him with his club, but Shojiro was too fast. He slid under the club, came back on his feet, and in doing so brought his blade into contact with the boss's leg. It cut a long gauge out of the boss's left right thigh. The monster screatched and brought himself around to face Shojiro, but he was already on his way back for a second strike. His blade curved through the air, then through the monster's flesh. It tore into him like a hot blade through butter. When Shojiro landed in the middle of the room, the monster was on his knee, holding on to the gauge running up the left side of his ribcage.

Shojiro smiled.
"More," he whisper, "more, more, more!" he yelled ever louder as he continued to go back and forth striking at the monster. Slowly the monster's health went down. First 5%, then 8%, then 10%. Shojiro landed once again in the middle of the room, but this time the boss was anticipating his movements, and struck at him as he landed. He flew through the room and crashed into one of the walls. When he stood back up, out of the dust, there was blood coming out of his mouth. He wiped it off with a smile.

"That's it," he said as he lunged back in.
This time he didn't bother to dodge the strikes. He took them in stride, taking the damage and smiling as the pain echoed through his body.
"MORE MORE MORE!!!" he yelled continuously.
His hair came loos and swung around like strands of sanity clinging to him, strands that he sought to through off at all costs. Shojiro's healthbar was diminishing, 80%, 70%, 50%... closer and closer it crept to 0, but he didn't care. His blade cut into the beast's flesh again and again, red and blue lines criss-crossed the beast, his health being chipped away with every strike. After several seconds it was on its knees.
"Get up!" Shojiro shouted at it. He waited for the beast to be back up before resuming his onslought.
His eyes were blank, there was no emotion, no Shojiro in him anymore. He was a killing machine, a machine that wished to kill, and to die at the same time.

Slowly he felt the faces of his beloved ones return to him. Johan, Shi-anne, Meleagros, Sophina... One by one their faces appeared to him. 'Almost' he said to himself. 'almost, my friends. I'll be with you soon.'
"Kancho!" came the shout from behind him.
It was Marie-Anne. Her shout brought him back to reality just before another strike hit him. It sent him flying and reduced his health to 2%. He crashed into the wall above the entrance to the room, and fell to the floor. He was bleeding, cut and gauged, bruised and battered all over his body. He felt cold and stiff. His strength had left him.
"I'm coming," he said, "I'm coming, onii-san," tears welled up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks uncontrollably.
"I'm coming, onii-san, Johan, Meleagros, Sophina, Shi-anne. I can finally atone for my sins." he said.
His eyes closed and he smiled as he finally lost consciousness.
The monster was still standing, though, and his commanders along with the 1st now took action.

Shojiro had reduced it's health to about 80%, nearly emptying his first health bar, and they were going to finish the job.

This literally made me tear up. I guess I'm too sensitive for my own good.

[Luxdonia]

Allied Front
Fritz Biermann
Theme

Zeppelins come in classes, just like warships. There's assault craft, like the one I'm on right now, and then there's battleships. Like that one. Fritz thought, the rifle jostling in his hand as flak and other obstacles attempted to eliminate the small, nimble airship before it could deploy the Luftmarine boarders to take the Allied battleship. The light above him swapped from green to red.

Fritz sighed, and lowered the altitude mask, at checked the marine to his left's rigging, making sure that the man's carabiner wouldn't come loose when they jumped out of the zeppelin. He heard a clicking noise when he did it, and realized he just saved this man's life. He smiled, and then the light went orange. The door in front of him opened, and cables fell from the far edge of the ceiling over the battleship below. He smiled, before taking a running leap off the bay door, attaching the carabiner to his wire. The carabiner was attached to his stomach rigging, which was overlaid the loose altitude suit. The altitude suit was a thing of unparalleled warmth, the inside being lined with down. The boy slid down the wire at startlingly fast speeds, smoke coming off where the carabiner hit the cable.

Ah, well. They're only good for one jump anyways.

He hit the upper deck of the battleship running, firing shots off at the deck crew, watching as one round connected to an American's torso, causing the man to go into a roll off the zeppelin, only being saved by the thin safety wire attached to his belt. Fritz sprinted towards belowdecks access, glancing at his fellow Luftmarines who fought with the crew of the massive zeppelin as the young boy flew down the stairwell, whacking an Allied crewman with the butt of his rifle, leaping over the dazed man with ease, and sliding down the railing; landing on a catwalk with a thud. He sprinted towards the engine room, checking his pocketwatch as he ran.

One minute, twenty one seconds until we go.

Before him stood a large metal bulkhead, which lead directly to the hydrogen distributor. Which was the heart of the ship. Fritz lifted the altitude mask off his face, simultaneously drawing his cutter torch and setting down his rifle. He turned the knob, and squeezed the trigger and a bright, focused flame fwooshed into existence. He tuned the cutter for a moment, focusing the flame even more, and set it against the bulkhead's seams, creating a miniature sun of sparks. He looked away from the screeching metal for a moment and saw several Allies rushing towards him on the catwalk. The closest one was less than two yards away.

The boy spun his whole body, dodging the man's knife jab, and retaliating by shoving the open flame of the cutter into the man's side, before drawing his C96 and slamming the grip of the pistol into the back of the Ally's neck, and firing a shot into his head . Then Fritz turned to the other two, and opened up, firing five rounds from the semiautomatic pistol into the unprepared bodies of the two men.

Satisfied, the young veteran turned back to his work, and finished cutting the last seam. He turned the cutter torch off with a fireproof rag, set it back on his rigging, and kicked down the piece of two centimeter thick metal down. He checked his watch.

Thirty seconds. Oh. Shit.

He smirked, and primed the grenade, tossing it behind him as he ran out of the distributor room, which was filled with delicate machinery; the explosion raking his rear rigging as he ran, abandoning his rifle. He could always get a new one off some unlucky Luftmarine after all. He pulled the altitude mask down over his face, clutching the C96 in his spare hand. He sprinted down the catwalks and decks, dodging fleeing Allies, who were abandoning the doomed zeppelin.

He ran into the airplane hangar, expecting to see a team of luftmarines waiting for him. Instead, it was empty. He checked his pocket watch, and sighed. Ten seconds too late. The others left without him, assuming he was dead. He strolled over to the edge of the open hangar doors, looking over the side at the trench mottled ground below. He threw the altitude mask on the ground in his fury, where the lenses shattered. Then a clicking sound interrupted the fuming boy.

He turned around slowly, and came face to face with a young boy, about his age. The Ally was terrified, despite the fact that he was the one who held the gun. Fritz dropped the C96 on the bay floor, and raised his hands above his head. The boy visibly relaxed, and that was when Fritz made his move. All he did was go on his tiptoes, and let the air currents take him as he gave the boy a lazy salute.

He was thrown from the hangar bay violently, the air whipping around him, and ice cold wind on his face.

Fritz smiled, and gained control of his descent, and took his time counting to three. Enjoying the feeling of flight.

The feel of freedom.

One,

The smell of cold.

Two,

The sense of being a bird on the wind.

Three.

Then he reached, pulling the chute's cord, and he was jerked upright, all the gees going to his crotch. He grimaced in pain. He lazily floated down, before a draft of air moved him quickly, throwing him in line with a trench. He flew towards a group of three, swaying of the wind. Directly in front of him were a pair of Allies, a nurse and an islander. The islander was closest to him, and he flew over his head with a whoosh. Unfortunately, he landed on the table, his momentum carrying him forwards, where he tripped on a lantern on the table, flying face first into the nurse.

The two toppled over, the nurse landing in the mud, and Fritz landing on top of her, his arms outstretched around the sides of her head.

"Eh... guten tag Fräulein?" He said innocently, aware that he was likely about to be shot, after facing the wrath of a rather cute woman.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

I thought this was really interesting. A man plagued by visions, forced into service yo those he hates, all for the love of his daughters.

Laurence Willheim
Willheim Estate, Outside Alinor
Summerset Isles, The Aldmeri Dominion

---

The sky was black, filled with the smoke of the burning fields that surrounded the great, stone walls of the Imperial City. He stood in the middle of the great sea of fire surrounding the city, screams could be heard from within and Laurence knew very well what wait him beyond the battered city gates. He did not want to face it again, he had faced this horror so many times before, but still to this day the horrors within were slightly different each time. He walked towards the gate on the paved road that acted like a great divide in the sea of fire threatening to engulf the city. A pile of burnt bodies lay just within the entrance, a quick glance revealed what happened, he had seen this scenario before, they were trapped within the city seeking to get out and whatever broke down the gate took these people with it. He climbed over the blackened corpses, where once he was barely able to convince himself to attempt the climb, he did it now without a second thought.

On the other side of the dead barrier people ran down the streets, screaming. Pools of fire were littered among rubble from ruined buildings. Something big had to be around if the tops of buildings were being destroyed. Reflexively his hand went to the hilt of his sword even though he knew whatever ravaged this city would ignore him, the nightmares that plagued him always did. He continued to walk down the main street towards The White-Gold Tower that still stood high above the city in defiance to chaos below. Laurence wandered how many people were still holed up there, had the legion fallen back to defend the tower and its inhabitants? They certainly weren't here defending the people, but at least they weren't killing them, those were the worst visions, watching everyone rip each other apart. Laurence shook his head, he was already in a nightmare, there was no need to think on others. He continued to walk down the road until he heard someone scream Lookout! Laurence stood still and looked up to the smokey barrier that encased the city, a great beast emerged from the smoke and crashed down into the buildings on the side of the street causing the ancient stone to come crashing down. The beast was giant, perhaps as large as the biggest mansions in this city, but it had wings and scales. He had never seen one before, but he knew what it was, a dragon. It was covered with arrows and its underside was soaked in its own blood. While this world stood no chance, at least it was still fighting back.

He looked around the street from the spot he stood, they still had to be around here somewhere. He spotted a door on the far side of the street, it was a bookstore, one he visited often when he was a young child in this city himself. There was no sign of them from here, but the feeling in his gut, that familiar feeling that foreshadowed the worst part of the vision, and it was the only sign he needed. This was the only part of the nightmare he still fought to this day, the only part he had not given into. He drew his sword and took off running down the street, not caring or even looking at the suffering of others around him. He braced his shoulder and tackled the door that gave in with ease. The room was dark save for the glowing from the entrance he broke down and the window on the far side of the room. A girl stood by the window looking out, his daughter, Gemma. The others weren't here, but they were never far, likely they would be upstairs. "Gemma! You're alright, we need to leave!" cried out out Laurence to his daughter. She turned around, a look of horror on her face that gave way for a smile when she smile. "father..." she softly said before the shattering of glass could be heard behind her and a talon nearly half a foot in diameter emerged from her stomach. She let out a cry of pain that quickly went silent as the claw pressed forward, red with the blood of Laurence's daughter. Just as quickly as it emerged the claw pulled back taking his daughter with it till her body was caught on the window causing the claw to slide out and her body to unceremoniously drop to floor.

Laurence dropped his sword and sprinted towards he body. His head he could only hear his daughter saying "father..." over and over. He knelt down by her body, shaking it. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn't accept it. He closed his eyes, still hearing her voice...

---

..."Father," said the voice of his eldest daughter again. He felt his shoulder shaking, then a soft, warm hand brush against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see a small, pale hand before him, a small bit of moisture on the tip of the index finger glistening in the candle light. "Tear...father, sad?" He looked to his side to see his daughter sitting on his bed beside where he was lying, a look of concern in her eyes.

"No, my love, just a bad dream," replied Laurence who pulled himself up to a sitting position. A candle was burning by the bedside, and the room was still dark. It must've been still very early. "Did I wake you up, my Summer lion?"

His daughter smiled at the use of the pet name her mother originally gave her long ago. "Yes..." began Gemma. "...Father screaming, Gemma frightened..." She looked away as she spoke out of shame of her fear. She was frightened easily and it always disappointed her with her father being a soldier and thus the bravest man in the world in her eyes.

Laurence let out a sight before pulling his daughter into a hug and kissing the top of her head of long, black hair. "I am sorry, Gemma." Laurence pulled back about a foot, resting his hand on her shoulders. He mustered a smile and said, "You were very brave to come and check on me. If I were in danger you would have been a hero. They would sing songs of your bravery..." Gemma giggled at the mentions of such a song, she enamored with every hero that there was a song of and the idea of her being the subject was too far fetched to be true. "...I am serious, the bravery of The Summer Lion." She looked away in embarrassment, though this time it was due to joy. Laurence glanced towards the window, some light was seeping through, though it was early, it was best if he got up now, he had a busy day. "Did I wake your sisters?" Gemma shook her head no. "Then we should go wake them up," continued Laurence who pulled his blanket back and got off the bed. Gemma jumped off the bed and took off out of the room. Laruence noticed the candlelight and shouted after her, "Don't run with the candle!" But it was no use, she was gone.

Laurence quickly changed his clothes and left the room to go down the empty hall. The estate was large and mostly empty. It was of human design so none of the elves on this island was interested in it and since it was outside of the city the original creators could afford to make it larger than the estates he was use to back in the Imperial City. He walked down to the end of the hall to room where the door stood open. As he entered the room he could hear muffled yelling from the floor above, Gemma had waken Selvia it seemed. At the other end of the room he was a small girl was lying in a bed pressed against a large window. He walked up to the side of bed before kneeling down beside it and softly shaking the girl. "Leonara, it's morning, time to wake up," whispered Laurence to the frail, blonde girl. She began to stir and moan in protest. "Leonara, if you wanted to sleep longer you shouldn't have stayed up so long with your sisters. Don't let the day waste away." In truth the day barely started, but he knew he would have to leave soon for the day and wanted to see his children before leaving.

The girl pulled herself up just as Laurence was tackled in the back by another young girl. "Daddy!" cried the girl behind her, Selvia, that was clinging to his back. "Good morning!" cried the gleeful voice as Laurence turned around, still kneeling so he was closer to his daughter's height.

"It is," replied Laurence who kissed her on the cheek, her hardened scaly cheek. Each day he switched which cheek he kissed in an attempt to show that this deformity meant nothing to him, this deformity the often caused people to avert their eyes in disgust or fear. "Did you sleep well, Selvia?" asked Laurence as he hugged her.

"I was till Gemma woke me up!" said Selvia. Which caused Gemma who was standing behind her to smile, unable to hide her guilt.

"Well, I need to go into the city today, your father's being called to talk to the nobles there. So I thought we would eat breakfast before I go," said Laurence, releasing daughter.

"Can we come? Please!" cried Selvia. Gemma was smiling as much as she could when her sister asked.

"I am sorry, not this time, but soon, I promise. I am sure you all would have much more fun than I do. And I am sure you could deal with those elven nobles better than I ever could. Now, why don't you and Gemma go check and see if breakfast is done yet. Your other sister and I will be right down, alright?" Selvia made an exaggerated sigh before turning around to leave the room, Gemma following closely behind. Laurence turned back around to see Leonara had turned over away from him to try to go back to sleep. He softly shook her again and whispered, "Are you well, today?" asked Laurence.

"No," came the quiet reply from his daughter.

Laurence chuckled and replied, "Don't lie to me. You feel fine Leona." She didn't have a fever today which meant she would be able to get out of bed today, though with her weak body she could only walk slowly and tired easily. "I don't want to leave without saying good-bye to-" Three knocks came from the entrance to the room.

Laurence turned around and looked, a tall Breton in black armor of elven make stood at the door, Alexander, one of Laurence's loyal officers who followed him to the Dominion to serve him. "Sir, message from Alnor, they are moving the uh, gathering back a few hours. They also wanted me to let you know they are sincerely sorry for the inconvenience." A look of disgust was evident on his face, Alexander hated the Thalmor, Laurence didn't like them much himself though Laurence had a better reason to serve. Alexander had no loyalties to kingdoms, just his commanders, he was a soldier since he was a young man and it was all he knew. His mentality was better suited as a mercenary, would've made more money, but Laurence was glad he followed him along.

Laurence let out a breath of disappointment. "Thank you, Alexander," replied Laurence before turning back to his daughter. "Well...it looks like I will have to leave. I'm truly sorry. Let your sisters know I had to leave and I will make up to them, and you, I promise." Laurence got up from his knees and continued, "Now to go back to bed, I don't want your sisters having to come back up here to figure out what happened, alright? And eating together will be good for the three of you. Now hurry up and get dressed." She grumbled as a response and Laurence took it as acceptance. He turned and left, closing the door behind him and turning to Alexander. In a whispered tone, the warmth his voice had just seconds before now gone, he said "No one enters until I get back, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied Alexander cooly. Alexander always kept up formalities even though they knew each other for so long and the other officers were much informal. This wasn't even his real job, he was bodyguard, but an officer of the military. But he had no family and gladly acted as a guard when Laurence was away. Laurence nodded and began to walk away, stopping when Alexander called out, "And if I should find anyone?"

Laurence thought for a moment and said coldly, "No one needs to know they were ever here..." He turned and walked to his room to get dressed and leave.

[Luxdonia]

---

Markus Berens Herzsprung / Veaceslav Anghelescu / Kajlij Stenström / Nelis Twilhaar

---

Markus gripped the top of his cane with his right hand, stroking his beard with his left. Only soft voices could be heard as this coyote- a carnivore- stood among them. When she'd been taken in by the guards, the crowd parted for her, and almost immediately took on a very different vibe. Some had their arms crossed as they glared upon the canine and others were simply unsure as to how they were to react. They chattered among themselves, gesturing both towards the girl and their leader.

Standing right behind Markus was Veaceslav, the huge Nyala, whose job was to protect the Resistance head and to command the main combat arm of the underground group. As always, he was stoic, looking forth past Cassie, as though she weren't even there. After all, his part in all of this was to follow orders unless to disobey was necessary. There was nothing for him to say either, so he remained silent, except for an occasional grunting noise.

Markus rose. Everyone present settled down and listened.

The Kudu, still tall and fairly muscled, ambled up until he was in front of Cassie. He looked down and squinted at her, as though she were an ant. However, he didn't give off a vibe that said he was belittling her. The Resistance head turned his head to the side, and coughed. It was deep and dry. He turned back to Cassie, and said with a rasp, "In all my years of leading this group against the King and his ideals, not once have I seen a carnivore ever attempt to enlist."

The crowd nodded, not in unison.

As if greatly pleased, Markus laughed scornfully, lightly tapping his cane upon the floor. "You're quite courageous, I must say." he nods, his ears twitch. "But surely you are aware that we are against the meat-eating kind here, yes?"

"But she can definitely help us. Given she's true to her word." said a young wallaby out loud as he broke through the ranks of other herbivores. Under his arm were several scrolls. He playfully twirled a quill in his left hand. Markus nodded to agree as the tiny wallaby proceeded. "She's here, most likely to join our cause, and according to-- Never mind.. From what we know about her, she's a deviant as well." the young macropod's use of 'deviant' was not intended to insult.

The hoofed, antlered, grass-munching congregation nodded in unison this time, albeit hesitantly.

Sensing the group's, and even the leader's apprehension, Kajlij chuckled to show he wasn't at all intimidated and stepped in front of Cassie after setting his set of scrolls down on a little table. Markus was still impressed by this child's confidence and capability. Youths were gullible, but they could be very zealous. Taking him in was indeed a good choice.

Kajlij points his quill up at Cassie's snout, waving it. "No one trusts you, good lady." he says to her alone. Others in the crowd lean forward, as they could not hear his voice. "From the way you look, the way you move, I can conclude that you're hardened. Independent." the wallaby huffed as he crossed his arms. "You would make a great asset to this group. Really, you would. But even I have trouble processing that a carnivore such as your pretty self would come here... To join."

The wallaby turns to Markus, but addresses all the others in the storeroom. "How about a test?" he asks, spreading his arms out. "We could send her to do something daring, and if she completes this task without hesitation, then we'll accept her! Of course..." Kajlij turned to Cassie, smirking. "We'd be watching."

Markus at this point only remained silent. There were times when he himself made decisions, but the wallaby, an essential part of the group, had taken the floor. He would not let it go until there was a definite solution to this..

From his perch, Nelis grunted. The boy, although having made an annoying decision, was correct. This coyote girl could serve as a spy. If only her reputation with the government was a tad cleaner, she might even be able to gain access to the castle. Nelis grinned, wiping his father's sharpened horn against the side of his face. He wondered what Kajlij and Markus would make the girl do.

[Qart chadast]

It had been a sleepless night, at least it felt that way. As I slept it was as if I fell from the realm of Nirn into something else entirely. It brought fear to me, and yet strangely comfort. It was if I was in my own world my own realm, and yet it felt so alien as if even in a place of my own creation I was unwelcomed.

I arose in darkness, my setting pitch black, the only light being a flickering speck many miles away. I walked towards it curiously, but as I did it seemed to move away increasing in speed and distance as I got closer. I started with a jog, then a run, and finally a full on sprint desperate to reach the eluding light, why was it running? I felt my breath leaving, fatigue coming in, at that point the darkness around began to cave in, it felt claustrophobic, my breath was slipping away and this place was closing in on my lungs. Panic.It was the only thing I felt, I felt myself becoming more desperate to move to the light, but every time I did it moved away taunting me as if asking,"How far are you willing to go little girl?"

Panic and fear, they were the only thing I felt, as I moved through the darkness I felt my body breaking down as if I was pushing it to the limits, I felt the darkness creeping closer with sadistic pleasure, as if I was nothing more then a simple toy something to be played with, and lastly I felt the light dimming. In my rush to desperately try to grasp it, I tripped, I tripped and became victim to the force I tried so desperately to run away from. I looked up seeing the light breath it's last breaths before it died out and became one with the darkness.

I cried, I actually cried. Looking around I was in complete darkness seeing nothing.

"Hello!"

"Hello!"

"Someone!!?"

"Please!!!"

"Help me...."

But my calls were answered with nothing but silence, it was hopeless, and any calls for help were fruitless. Tears streamed from me as the force began engulfing me, I tried calling out, screaming for someone, anyone to help me, but my voice was barely a whispers, the darkness closing in on my throat and my lungs, suffocating me. I stood fear as soon I realized, I would become one with this darkness...

I jolted awake, looking around, sweating desperately. The room looked unchanged, and the sun was shinning, I had never been so happy to see such a thing in my life. I stood up in shock, my body was shaking, shaking as if my bones were trying to touch together as if I went to deepest depths of Skyrim, as if I was a abandoned child, and it scared me. I slowly got up and put on any armor I took off before putting on my bag and sword, holding on to my sword in comfort, this blade would protect me it had to. I sat on the bed for a bit taking in deep breaths to remain calm before walking out the room and then outside, waving to the innkeeper.

[Charlia]

When Charlotte's countenance returned, Shojiro relaxed, though only partially. He remained worried about Charlotte. He was worried about the horrors that haunted her. He didn't care much about what the horrors were, or what the secrets were, but he did care about the fact that they were harming Charlotte. As things stood now, she was his anchor. If he lost her, he would lose his last sight on sanity, his last sight on what little humanity was left, humanity SHE had awoken within him.

He felt severe unease, as if in the near future their love would face a trial unlike anything they had faced before. To this he dedicated a considerable amount of thought. What could put their love under stress? What factor of man or beast could strain their relationship? Thinking of it as a 'relationship' made him halt at once. Could he even call it a relationship? They had only admitted their feelings to one another a few hours prior. He dismissed the thought immediately. Though they had only admitted their feelings a few hours ago, they had - or at least he had - harboured these feelings for far longer, and had known each other intimately for far longer still.

For all the masks Charlotte wore now, he knew the real Charlotte. He knew the Charlotte before all the horrors, and though he didn't pretend that THAT was still the true Charlotte today, it certainly was far closer to the true Charlotte than the facade she held now. This, too, was a source of unease for him. He knew how Charlotte had been, how happy she had been one time. He knew how different she had been. He knew the Charlotte he dealt with now was a shell, a facade of papier-mâché that hid the true her. Though he could not say for certain what the facade hid, he was certain this wasn't the real Charlotte. He had known this since the moment he met her. The current Charlotte was too different from the Charlotte he knew, even when taking into account what she had been through. As horrible as it sounded, she was too happy, too joyful, too normal. Shojiro knew more than anything that that was not possible. He had been through some shit in his life, it couldn't compare to what she had been through, but it was still infinitely worse than what most people had been through. And through all this, he too, now wore a facade of joy and happiness. He knew, thus, that if he had to wear a facade to hide the true him, Charlotte most definitely hid behind a facade as well, and was likely even more hollow than he was.

He resolved himself.
He would not interfere, nor try to break this last facade of Charlotte's. He would encourage and aid her, but she would be the one to break it. And he would love her no matter what he found beneath. Even if he finds that there is nothing beneath, that all she is is a husk, then he would love the husk. No, then he would rebuild the Charlotte he knew, the Charlotte he KNOWS. He would craft for her the identity he knew she truly harboured, and he would mould her to become the Charlotte she truly was. For even a black hole, giving off the perfect illusion of the void, hid within it an unimaginable quantity of existence. Even if Charlotte appeared to be empty, to be void inside, she only hid an even greater personality, a greater being beneath that thin illusion.

He was resolved now.
He would walk the path before him no matter what. Even should walking it cost him his already forfeit life, he would walk the path, and he would walk it to the very end. After all, he loved Charlotte, and there was nothing, no revelation, no confession on her part or on anyone else's that could change that fact. But more over, that fact alone, was what he needed to sustain him.
He loved Charlotte.

It's not very long, certainly not compared to most of the posts in this thread, but I didn't care. I don't care. It doesn't need to be any longer, because this is amazing. Adding more to it, gratuitous words, would destroy what it already has.
This post is one of the most heartwarming things I've read in any RP, ever.
And it deserves its place here.