Twilight of the Gods: A Metahuman RP (IC)

[Miekzhemy]

Khereid Dorjigiin Tolui-Noyan

---

The towering Prince rose up straight, back to his full height, as the rigidity of their opening ceremony finally came to a close. It was then that Obi Kano had addressed him. Perhaps it was due to the sheer number of visiting dignitaries - or simply the awe-inspiring spectacle that distracted them - that he did not notice the Lord of Challenger Deep at first. It was actually quite a surprise to see him here now, even for such a momentous occasion such as this. The aging Lord Kano had always been a mysterious figure to him, and for much of the Imperial Court; a reclusive man, dwelling where no other man dwelled, making very little appearances outside of his averting of natural disasters or, as some fleeting rumours mentioned, the occasional visit to Japan. That much seemed expected, though. No doubt he still related more with Lord Hikawa and those of the Japanese isles more so than that of mainland East Asia.

Perhaps their Conference might help to better bridge these gaps...

"Hm, certainly not mine," Tolui corrected him, though with a certain indifference in his voice. "But truly a magnificent city, indeed! I dare say the restoration efforts have been a resounding success. It is a pleasure to have you in attendance, Lord Kano."

It was then that he remembered something more. Best to inform them while they were still in one place. The Mongol Prince looked to the rest of their gathering visitors.

"I shall remind our honored guests that the upcoming banquet will be underway within the hour," he announced, before gesturing down the central path into the Outer Court. "Once the staff has made the necessary arrangements, the Hall of Supreme Harmony shall be made open to you all. Until then, please, mingle and enjoy the many sights the Forbidden City has to offer..."

[Britanania]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0700 20 May 2020

Monika nodded as Marie spoke, not interrupting the Western European vassal until she finished. The Reich's Foreign Minister clasped her hands together and leaned forward in her chair.

"You might be avare, Holy Regent, zat zee Waffen-SS does not recruit solely on Aryan ancestry," she explained. "It hast been open to any vorthy officers since zee Führerin's reforms," Monika politely informed Marie. "Now, ist there anysing else I should know before vee formalise zis?"

---

Polish ASSR Headquarters, North of Canberra, 1525 20 May 2020

"Trade routes to zee Eastern European market," Antoinette stated. "Zee bulk of our trade to Eastern Europe passes through Istanbul, but it vould be far more profitable for both of our houses if vee could pass it through Danzig"

---

Reich Chancellry, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 0600 21 May 2020

Hilde returned to Ilsa's office as promptly as she could, nearly throwing the dossier on the Vice Chancellor's task with a satisfied smile.

"Here's everything we could find," she started. "This Lord Tenner has quite the resume, going back to his service as a superhero before the Coup," Hilde told Ilsa as the telepath began reading through the dossier.

"Public information on Teris Renner indicates a moderate threat level to the Reich. Being a lord in the North American Union, he has a marked history of serving his Great Lord and his own dominion. He is an ally of Great Lord Josiah Kelvin, having leveraged support around the telepath’s claim to the North American Union. He has some ambition, for prior to meeting the current Great Lord, he made a bid to take control after the death of Juliana Kelvin. His ambition and patriotism mean that he is likely to act against the Reich aggressively in the event of a conflict or diplomatic concerns."

Hilde paused for a moment in thought.

"His personal rulership of the Free State of Texas is an oddity. He notably took leave for the first year of his rulership, likely to resolve personal concerns, though there is little intelligence on him in that time frame. Following this, he made concessions to the Resistance within his state, allowing for his holdings to take up previous debts and obligations once held by the pre-revolution state. His voting record in the Dynastic Congress broadly correlates with this outlook, consistently voting against interventions against the Resistance, including Resolution #24601. His bid to become commander of operations was likely out of his liberal sensibilities. He appears to be a wastrel, typical of North American Lords, who partakes in multiple competitions and casual events, while rarely dealing in affairs of state. Despite his apparent proclivity for inaction, he appears to remain adept in his abilities. He has been noted to contribute regularly to congressional records, often with the explicit goal of reducing casualties among congressional forces and providing clarity to potentially dangerous situations. It is likely that there have been many actions made more precise by his input, and its likely he can provide such precision to North American forces. This insight leads to an assumption that he is deeply integrated with North American Intelligence, though his forthcomingness to the Congress with information leads to the conclusion that he is not thoroughly integrated."

Ilsa nodded, putting the dossier down.

"All right, get a team ready."

---

OKM HQ, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 0620 21 May 2020

Obergruppenführerin Analise Steiner strutted confidently inside the Headquuarters of the Oberkommando der Marine. It was a building she had spent many times before, and she was on an important mission. The blonde, scarred metahuman passed by an old friend, indeed, the head of the Kriegsmarine herself, Großadmiralin Klara von Beckdorf. After the two women exchanged salutes, Klara asked what Analise was up to.

"I'm meeting with one of Echidna's agents," the SS operative explained.

"Is this about the trouble with our cousins to the north?"

Analise smiled.

'Something like that," she replied as Klara nodded.

"Well, I'll let you get to it. I just heard from Ilsa that things might b heating up. All our fleets are being placed on alert."

Analise nodded.

"Keep me informed, Klara. If those bastards are coming across the border, it's my ass they're shooting." With chuckles, the two women went their separate routes as Analise entered the office.

[Lunas Legion]

OKM HQ, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 06:20 21 May 2020

The office was exactly what one would expect. Plain slate-grey tiled flooring, a wooden desk with the flag of the Kriegsmarine hanging from a pole stood against the wall behind it. The blinds were shut, but the light was on, casting shadows in the corner of the room and onto the floor beneath the pair of leather armchairs that sat opposite the desk, a small coffee table set between them.

"Sit, Obergru...Ppenfüh-rerin." The room's sole occupant rasped as they spun their chair around to face Analise. They looked like any other of the Kriegsmarine's personnel in their immaculately-pressed white dress uniform and with their blonde hair and slightly-too-blue eyes that flicked open, but there was something just... Off, with them. The eyes didn't blink, didn't narrow or focus on Analise, just staring straight ahead. They didn't move to relax by leaning back as one who was used to and comfortable with this might, or lean forwards, muscles tensed and nervous as one not used to it would, instead simply sitting there with their back ramrod-straight, statue-like. Echidna only had one Ambassador; having more was a waste of resources. How its Ambassador looked entirely depended on who was in charge, as it had long since figured out that people responded better to people like them, and for one that could twist flesh with a whim, it could mould its Ambassador to fit those that surrounded it like putty.

"We have... Not noticed any issues." Echidna continued, speaking through its mouthpiece, only the mouth moving with every other part utterly still. Speech was irritating. It didn't have cause to do it much, so it was supremely irritating to have to divert attention to doing it. "Your pur-pose, if you would... Divulge it? Our atten-tion is... Not ex-pend...able."

[Union Princes]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0700 20 May 2020

Monika nodded as Marie spoke, not interrupting the Western European vassal until she finished. The Reich's Foreign Minister clasped her hands together and leaned forward in her chair.

"You might be avare, Holy Regent, zat zee Waffen-SS does not recruit solely on Aryan ancestry," she explained. "It hast been open to any vorthy officers since zee Führerin's reforms," Monika politely informed Marie. "Now, ist there anysing else I should know before vee formalise zis?"

Marie's cheerful smile dimmed as she moved onto the final point. "According to my economic and interior security ministers, they estimate a 1 - 3% margin of error for all the Rhenish Germans being transported overseas will not make the trip. That is, from their position in Rhineland to the Netherlands, from the English Channel, and across the Atlantic. They predict the cause of death is diseases, malnutrition, starvation, dehydration, beatings, suicides, and shootings. There is also the chance for them to escape as well. We've considered providing the security for the ships unless Viktoria wants to take over that burden."

[Bingellia]

Aisling Keyes and Co.

Paris

The transition out of The Otherworld was a sudden and jarring as it always was, but it put the cart out relatively close to their target. The bickering that marked the ride through The Otherworld was over, having been replaced with a razor-sharp focus for the remainder of the short ride to the Élysée Palace. They all knew they were in enemy territory, but there would be hell to pay if anyone tried anything brash.

The squad of black-clad figures, complete with balaclavas, dismounted with their rifles in hand, but any fight would likely be decided by metapowers. They quickly went to work scanning the area while Aisling slowly worked herself out of the driver's seat and lazily seated her axe on her side.

"Alright everyone," Aisling said. "If any of those pale perverted arselicks come asking around, tell them this is Irish business. If they persist, I've found that fuck off is pretty universal."

"Aye, Keyes." Diarmaid called back, "We all know that. Let's just get this job done."

"Right," She replied, "If you lot hear a gunshot, it's time to have some fun. Diarmaid comes in for me and everyone else keeps an eye out for the army."

---

"Marie," Aisling playfully called as she rapidly banged an armored fist on the door to her office. "Marie! I'm here to have a chat with you."

Once more, she violently rapped against the door with each strike growing louder and louder before throwing the door open and stepping in. A scowl quickly formed on her head as she noticed Monika.

"Consorting with the Reich?" She forced a laugh. "I suppose it always helps to learn from the best, and hypocrisy is nothing new for fecking lords."

---

Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, Beijing, 1200

Viktoria raised a slight eyebrow.

"Oh? Does the First Citizen keep you active, or do you have other interests that keep you away from home?"

Lena, meanwhile, smirked at Freyja in turn.

"Our little Major hast been quite busy, I haff heard. I heard from Hilde ist meeting vith zee Jungerin Wolfin."

Freyja, Graefin von Ehrenburg

"That fat, treasonous, schweinehund," Freyja grumbled. "He's playing a dangerous game with her, going behind Viktoria to court a mad dog. I won't cry if she rips that silver tongue out and lets him choke on whatever passes for his blood."

Freyja's frown quickly deepened as felt smoldering anger slowly intensified. "And Viktoria too, with that fucking French whore! If she wants the Morrigan, she's picked the wrong woman. I'd rather trust a live grenade in a foxhole before I'd trust that disgrace of a regent with any kind of deal.

Freyja could hear the faint squeaks of her leather glove tightening and rubbing against itself as she clenched her fist.

"And Viktoria let her do it. In the middle of a meeting with none of her precious secrecy! Verdammt! But I'm too dangerous, too indiscrete. Is she fucking blind?"

[Pragia]

Teris Renner, Lord of the Free State of Texas
Beijing, Zhongdu Province, Great Yuan
May 20th, 2020, 11:45 AM Local Time

Teris walked through circular portal, entering the North American consulate in Beijing with his home bedroom at his back. It was neither a large nor a visually striking building, but it was kept clean, and there were a few lingering functionaries who moved to tend to him. He held up a hand, waving them off simply. The Lord of Texas cleaned up well, better than he had for the congressional meeting a few weeks ago. He had exfoliated at his home, had his hair trimmed and slicked back in New York and picked up his black official suit from Austin personally, his cleaner of choice in the town. He had matched it with a white shirt and a navy tie, as opposed his typical red, which he wore when he wished to stand out more clearly. He was an observer, not a participant, and wished to be taken that way.

He made his way to the vehicle, a black Lincoln MKZ which the NAU kept a small fleet of in their foreign service. The ambassador had already made it early to the forbidden city, likely already rubbing elbows with various other dignitaries at such a high-profile event. Getting into the car, the driver informed him that it would be about five minutes. It was embarrassing for him, not being able to go to the ceremonies himself. He had never been driven around in the NAU except to make appearances at state events, he was much more the type to appear personally where he was needed, and he rarely had someone keeping an itinerary for him. Regardless, the ride was smooth, the seating comfortable. Teris barely knew how to drive himself, so he supposed that the driver was at least appreciated.

The ceremonies were sure to always be elaborate, as was everything when the Empire of Yuan was considered. Teris thought back to times before as he saw the fruit of the renovation projects of the Great Lordship. He had only visited Beijing a couple of times when it was under Communist rule, acting as a DoD consultant for metahuman affairs. The state they maintained the district around the forbidden city was alright enough, but now it was truly opulent. For all the flaws he saw in the old system, the embracing of culture by some of the nobility at least was beautiful. If such beauty had not been put in service in attempts to deify their metahuman masters, he would have even been reveling in the display of opulence.

He had his own notions of what these events would entail: an effort to enforce unity under the banner of Yuan in the face of a young empress many vassals in Yuan had begun posturing to challenge their rulership. The previous Mengyan Emperor was a brutal conqueror, and now such threat of competence was nonexistent. It invited challenge, Teris was all too familiar with similar dynamics in his own State. Obviously, the Great Lordship did not have the same sort of leeway for rather open threats against vassals like he had done with Gunslinger, not their culture would have allowed it even if they had it. Nonetheless, it would provide him insight into what lesser lords of the Yuan he could attempt to work with in his own goals. He was still considering the dossiers he had been provided by the NAU on the lords present, diplomatic briefs were always fluffy, but he needed to be fluffy for these events if he wanted to walk away with anything more than wasted time.

The vehicle was nearing the Imperial city, it was such a massive construction, just as impressive as the previous times he had visited Beijing. Now he couldn’t enter the complex of his own volition, an insult to him, but understandable nonetheless. He could feel the resistance of the magical wards whenever he tried, it infuriated him to the point that he felt the need to scream, but exercised enough disciple not to. The people visiting here today, his fellow observers, were looking for something to analyze that wasn’t military reports from Australia. He was at least here for that reason, even if he didn’t want to admit it, the constant updates on troop movements, supplies, and requests for aid bombarded him. The fight in Australia was over, and Teris had gotten his evacuations completed in a manner he was satisfied with. The men holed up in Canberra would be destroyed, and where he had once felt obligation to the governors as coordinators of the defense, recent events have left him with little empathy and only some respect for those who decided to die standing.

As Tiananmen Gate enters sight, he would signal the car to stop, not wanting to pull directly into the line of dignitaries and preferring to walk the rest of the distance. The driver had no compunctions with it, and Teris would exit, having no bodyguard or plus one. He would approach the edge of the crowd of dignitaries as he approached the red Gate of Heavenly Peace. It seemed as though the opening ceremonies had concluded, as the representatives were moving into the gate itself at a leisurely pace. Teris would do the same, curious who he would--and would not-- see at this demonstration of East Asian unity.

[Europa Undivided]

Kondrad Sierakowsky
Polish ASSR Miltary Forward Headquarters
North of Canberra

Polish ASSR Headquarters, North of Canberra, 1525 20 May 2020

"Trade routes to zee Eastern European market," Antoinette stated. "Zee bulk of our trade to Eastern Europe passes through Istanbul, but it vould be far more profitable for both of our houses if vee could pass it through Danzig"

If Kondrad seemed to be mildly intrigued, he was now very much interested as shown by his grinning expression. A little less formality, and he would have chuckled right then and there. "Danzig... of course, that's our premier port city. The docks are watched by the sleepless guardians of my realm, just like all the other places that are deemed to be of grand interest. Hm. I see. if it is profit that we build our newfound... cooperative relations, then my house will have absolutely no complaints. The Lord of Danzig will most certainly welcome an additional flow of trade into his city. He's the shrewd type, you see. And so am I, for one. Anything that will benefit my nation's ascension back into a place of relevance of Europe is very much appreciated. And now..."

Standing up to his modest height of 5'6", the lord of Poland, the Shepherd of Souls, extended his hand to the Nazi; a move that he would have never even considered back in the older days. "Consider this to be the moment when Sudamerika is granted trade to Eastern Europe through us. Your ships will have to pass through the Strait of Denmark, however. You do know well that not only were the Nords under the thumb of the Morrigan, but they are intensely fearful of the outside world. It is amazing that the Strait has remained open through all these years."

Pausing to collect his thoughts on the Morrigan, he sighed, thinking on how the Polish lords are paranoid of being invaded from the West. "I do not think that she is dead. Such a dreadful creature is not easy to kill."

[Britanania]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0710 20 May 2020

Monika listened politely as Marie explained the situation, before nodding a few times.

"I believe it vould be in zee Reich's interest to handle zee transfer from zee Niederlande," she told her. "It vould soften zee burden on your part, at zee very least, Your Grace."

At that moment, Aisling arrived in the room, rising as the door nearly burst down and frowning somewhat as the dullahan remarked about her presence.

"Herrin Aisling," she greeted her with a slight bow.

---

Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, Beijing, 1210

Lena nodded as Freyja fumed. The SS Chief of Staff was used to such outbursts, a not so uncommon occurrence from the Gruppenfuehrerin, glancing around the square before switching back to German.

"You weren't there, Freyja," Lena reminded her. "I saw the entire scene. Those Europeans, using kisses on the cheek to mark a deal, Viktoria thought that's what Marie was up to, before she stole a real kiss," Lena shook her head. "Viktoria was quite shocked herself, completely without consent, might as well have been an assault, but remember you promised to behave yourself," she warned.

---

Polish ASSR Headquarters, North of Canberra, 1525

Antoinette clasped Kondrad's hand and shook it forcefully with her gloved hand with a nod.

"Dead or not, it ist a delicate situation. Zee Fuehrerin hast her concerns, and vith zee High Council on an impasse, anysing to promote peace and friendship is preferred," she replied.

---

Bridge of the Viktoria, South of Canberra, 1525

Kapitän zur See Carla Dönitz had a reputation for eccentricities, but few could deny she was one of the Kriegsmarine's finest officers. For that reason, perhaps, was why she was allowed to captain the Reich's mobile headquarters, usually assigned to the Todadler but today her expertise was being used for the siege of Canberra.

After making sure everything was set on the bridge, the captain returned to the war room where Erika was holding court. The Minister of War saluted her friend as she entered and the two discussed the situation on the ground.

"Albion's attack has so far given us an opening, but our Reichswehr soldiers are still being chewed up," Carla informed her. Erika nodded.

"All right, then it's time we play for real," Erika said, turning to the table. Obergruppenführerin Klara Schmidt, commander of the I SS Korps, stood at attention.

"Have your Corps begin its attack immediately," Erika told her, before turning back to Klara. "Order the Marine Luftschiff Abteilung Null Zwei to begin its assault." Klara saluted and went off, ordering the dozen Airships to begin their assault on Canberra, as orders went out for the 1st SS Rifle Division Das Reich, 1st SS Mechanized Division, and 1st SS Motorised Division to begin their assaults against the Resistance lines and relieve the beleaguered 1st Reichswehr Division.

---

OKM HQ, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 0620 21 May 2020

Analise nodded as the Ambassador began to speak, labouring at points to convey its thoughts. She sat down when it ordered her too, and waited patiently as it spoke. The officer cleared her own throat before replying.

"Tensions with the North have increased," she began, trusting that Echidna understood her meaning. "Our regular forces, in the event of an invasion, would surely be overwhelmed in a matter of weeks near the border. "Can you send a Corps' worth of forces to join near the border?"
"

[Lunas Legion]

OKM HQ, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 06:20 21 May 2020

"A... Corps?" The Ambassador forced an eyebrow up in curiousity. "No, no, not a corps. We... Do not have need for such units. Equiv-alent forces?" It fell silent as hundreds of miles away, the Echidna twitched. Maps were hauled out of sealed containers by tentacles as eyes sprouted from walls to glare at them irritably, scanning and analysing. Old orders of battle were broken out, their force compositions and sizes noted and quickly translated into the closest possible equivalents from its own arsenal of living biological weaponry.

"Poss-Ible." The Ambassador eventually voiced its conclusion. "Sssssuch things will... Take time to organise. We must concieve transport routes. Specimen... Compositions. Of armies. Lines of... Connection. Do not... Concern yourself. They will be dispatched once such things are worked out. Fixed and sorted. Would you prefer speed or st-stealth, in arrangement? Achievement of both is... Impossible. And we are aware of how arms races and massed deployments of forces happen and become... Unfortunate catastrophies."

Mobilisation was not an easy thing, not even for the Echidna. It was a lumbering behemoth in many ways; slow and ponderous to get moving, and rather difficult to stop once it did. It did not want a war; as good as war would be as a testing ground, war would interrupt delivery of resources. War would, potentially, be a direct threat to it. The costs simply outweighed the benefits.

[Union Princes]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0710 20 May 2020

Monika listened politely as Marie explained the situation, before nodding a few times.

"I believe it vould be in zee Reich's interest to handle zee transfer from zee Niederlande," she told her. "It vould soften zee burden on your part, at zee very least, Your Grace."

At that moment, Aisling arrived in the room, rising as the door nearly burst down and frowning somewhat as the dullahan remarked about her presence.

"Herrin Aisling," she greeted her with a slight bow.

"Really?" Marie beamed in surprise. "You have my gratitude if that would come to pass! I accept that term!"

Yet, her warmth did not last when the door burst open to reveal Aisling. The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees as the Lord Regent felt her blood boiling under her skin. However, Marie's smile did not falter. It only seems to strengthen in the sight of Morrigan's enforcer. Joining her hands together, the French woman did not hesitate to speak.

"Hello, Aisling! How expected of you to interrupt a productive meeting. Are you here to fulfill a quota set out by your overseer?"

[Bingellia]

Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, Beijing, 1210
Freyja, Reichsgraefin von Ehrenburg

Freyja rapidly reddened in response to Lena's comments poured petrol on the embers of anger and brought the redhead to a dead-stop. Her jaw tightened as her brow furrowed into a deep, hateful frown.

"I should have been there," Freyja violently stabbed out a finger as hissed in rage with her promise being the one fact keeping her from raising too much of a scene. "To besmirch her honor like that? It is unforgivable!

"And why did she do anything?" Freyja angrily pleaded. "Was she afraid of the scandal? What scandal would there have been, just another girl assaulted by that black spot on Europe! A disgrace to nations! If she's hurt, I'll hunt that whore down and make her regret ever touching Viki!"

Reaching into her coat, Freyja pulled out her flask and took a swig with a noticeable gulp. Then, she worked herself through a quick routine of breathing exercises that she was well familiar with from the line of duty. She hummed a soothing melody, as though she was trying to calm a child. "But not here and not now," she murmured to herself as she seemed to regain control of her reactions. "This isn't what mäuschen wanted."

---

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0710 20 May 2020
Aisling Keyes

"I assure you, Marie," Aisling said, taking a more serious tone now that she had her attention. 'If there was some sort of quota that I had a carte blanche to meet, we would not be having this discussion. It's always a craic to be in France."

For a moment, she glanced over to Monika before turning her attention back to Marie.

"Though quotas make for a bloody interesting segue," she continued. "Now, why does it happen that you insist on causing a piss-up at least once a month? I mean, Jesus, you know the damned Italians don't like you, and I'd really fucking like you eejits to not start a bloody civil war during a congressional campaign."

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Reich Embassy, Beijing, 1220 20 May 2020

The Reich Propaganda Minister's ever-present grin seemed to widen a bit as MachWolf declared her intentions to the cybernetic SS officer. Max made a slight flourish with his hands as Lady Gao further asked what sort of offer the Reich could provide South Han in MachWolf's larger geopolitical goal of seeing herself crowned Empress of East Asia.

"Of course, zee Reich's primary support for you now can come through trade und diplomacy," he replied. "I already promised to vork on rerouting our supply routes from Tianjin und Shanghai to Macau und Hong Kong, vhich vill, of course, provide South Han vith an edge. All trade vith South America, of vhich represents a significant percentage of all global trade, vill pass through South Han. Import duties vill go directly to your coffers, und, of course, you vill be able to bottleneck zee rest of trade vithin East Asia."

Max paused for a moment.

"Now, through diplomacy, zee support of other Great Houses can further strengthen South Han's position. Vee can help provide legitimacy to your claims, should the Yuan Court prove unable to lead East Asia."

---

"Thank you and I can assure you, Herr Max, that our ports will be more than ready to facilitate the extra shipping volume. I'll be able to make the rest of east asia become familiar with bowing to my leadership and control for their own good." Guan-yin smiled.

While she wouldn't be able to do much about exports, she'd have the ability to strangle access to South American good at will. As it stood, her current aim would be using the opportunity to cheapen construction costs for her industry and only placing import duties sufficient to pay for the extra raw materials, but there'd be no increased consumption of consumer or maintaince goods, nor would she disrupt the rest of eastasia's imports all that much.


"As for the day the Yuan are seen as unfit to rule, I hope to expedite that moment as much as I can. The sooner eastasia is lead by a a courageous wolf rather than a inept brat and her overwhelmed regent, the better. I'll be appreciative for the efforts your great house will take to help others recognize my worthiness."

[Britanania]

Collab with Bing and Miek

Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, Beijing, 1215

With the visiting lords and delegates dismissed to mingle amongst themselves, Tolui deigned to do the same, providing greetings and exchanging words with ministers here and there for the next several minutes. In time, he found himself pacing down the central walkway of the Outer Court, back in conversation with the Viceroy of Manchuria, Jie Hui-zhong. His two sons, of similar age to the Prince himself, followed closely behind, their awestruck faces gazing silently between the magnificent palaces and gateways around them.

“Incredible,” the Viceroy spoke in Mandarin, his hand gestures serving as further indication of his astonishment. “Such proficiency--and at such a young age, and in so little time? Absolutely incredible!”

Tolui smiled in agreement. “She has come a long way in the past five years,” he replied in just as much linguistic fluency. “I have heard nothing but praise from the Beki of late. They are very pleased with her progress thus far…”

Meanwhile, after making sure Freyja was properly calmed down, the Chief of Staff of the Waffen-SS, Oberst-Gruppenführerin Lena Guderian approached the Prince Regent and the Viceroy, bowing low.

“久聞大名,” she said to the prince. “Ich bin Oberst-Gruppenführerin Lena Guderian,” she informed Tolui. “Chef des Generalstabes des Waffen-SS. Meine Führerin vould very much like an audience vith Her Imperial Majesty, zee Empress. If zis could be arranged, she vould very much appreciate it.”

The towering Prince regarded the woman for a moment, before turning back to the Viceroy.

“We will speak later,” Tolui said, prompting a quick nod from the Manchu after a pause. With a beckoning gesture, he and his sons departed further into the courtyard.
“I’m happy to say we’re already ahead of you on that front, Miss Guderian,” he continued, returning her English with his own. “Her Imperial Majesty will be open to audiences until the upcoming banquet. If the Führerin prefers, shall I escort her personally to Her Majesty’s palace?”

“She und Gruppenführerin Reichsgräfin von Ehrenburg vould appreciate the gesture,” Lena replied. “For security reasons, of course, zey vould prefer a normal route, I hope you understand, Your Excellency,” she continued with a polite bow. “I know meine Führerin very much enjoys zee architecture of zee 紫禁城.”

“Of course,” he said with another smile. “There is much to see, indeed. Where is the Führerin now, if I may ask? Our schedule is rather...inflexible at this point, I’m afraid…”

Lena gestured to where Viktoria and Freyja were in the Square, talking between themselves. A few SS guards and other officers were keeping an eye out for any trouble.

“She und zee Gruppenführerin are ready vhenever you are.”

Tolui nodded. “After you,” he said, then following Lena across the Outer Court towards Viktoria and her entourage. He bid her a momentary bow.

“Führerin Viktoria von Eisenfaust.”

Viktoria turned towards the Prince and returned his bow.

“Lady is fine, if you prefer, Your Excellency,” she returned.

Freyja glanced between the pair and gave a quick nod towards Tolui.

“I am Freyja Reichsgräfin von Ehrenburg. Lady Freyja, if you must. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Tolui. You put on one hell of a show earlier.”

“A ceremony truly worthy of such an occasion,” the Prince agreed. “The pleasure is all mine to have you both in attendance.”

As Lena then parted ways with the lot of them, Tolui folded his hands neatly behind his back. He addressed Viktoria. “I was informed that you desire an audience with Her Imperial Majesty, yes? She is currently residing in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, in preparation for the upcoming banquet.”

He gestured towards the western end of the Outer Court.

“I can escort you there now if you wish.”

Viktoria nodded.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” she said with a gesture. “After you, I believe.”

“Excellent!” Tolui replied. “Right this way, please.”

He beckoned the small entourage to follow, before waving down a pair of Royal Honor Guards to accompany them.

“We will take the scenic route.”

---

Reich Embassy, Beijing, 1220 20 May 2020

Max nodded as the MachWolf seemed to accept the proposal.

"I am looking forvard to see vhat happens next, Herrin Gao," he told her, his Cheshire Cat-esque grin widening. "But, until zhen, I believe vee both haff a conference to attend." With a polite bow, Max made his departure from the office and to his car, arriving at the Square with little fanfare. He was, after all, only one cog in the Reich's great machine, but many cameras were set up by his ministry to ensure that the ceremony was caught, and he noticed Viktoria, Freyja, and Lena amongst the sea of delegates, their black uniforms in contrast to his stark-white one.

Of course, he had other business than the one with Lady Gao, and among the crowd, he noticed the NAU delegation, spying Lord Renner.

The Major approached the American and bowed with a flourish.

"Herr Renner," he began. "How are you liking things in Peking?"

---

OKM HQ, Welthauptstadt Germania, Sudamerikanisches Reich, 0625 21 May 2020

Analise thought for a moment, weighing the options as Echidna laid them out.

"Stealth, if at all possible," she stated. "That would be the easiest way, I believe, but there is little risk currently of open conflict, so you may make all the preparations you need to."

[Nagakawa]

Meihuayuan Presidential Hotel

As Viktoria and Freyja met with the Prince Regent, Lena was off on another assignment from the Kaiserin. This time, she made for the location of the Hikawa Clan delegation. Spotting Lord Junya Higuchi, Lena again bowed politely to the Japanese metahuman.

“お会いできて光栄です,” she told him. “Ich bin Oberst-Gruppenführerin Lena Guderian, Chef des Generalstabes des Waffen-SS.” The young woman tugged at her gloves and switched to English. “I am told you represent Herr Hikawa, whose health hast been failing. Meine Führerin hast tasked me with informing you zat zee Reich hast a vay to prolong his life.”

Junya Higuchi was enjoying a glass of strawberry wine in the lounge of the hotel that had been booked for him and the rest of the Japanese delegation when Lena Guderian called. Several other members of the Japanese delegation were in there with him, some playing billiards in the corner, and others gathered round the coffee table and making small talk while helping themselves to the strawberry wine.

As Lena entered the room, a sudden silence fell upon the lounge, and the Japanese attache to the Yuan, Yukisada Saruta, made to stop her from entering, but was himself waved off by Higuchi, who cut an imposing figure in his maroon kimono, even sans his daisho.

“Please help yourself to some wine”, said Higuchi, snapping his fingers at the bartender.

He took a seat at the table in the centre of the room, inviting Lena to do so as well. She had come with a proposal directly from the Reich, it seemed, with an offer by the Reich to provide some new treatments or technologies that, it seemed, would be able to prolong his now limited days at least somewhat.

A most intriguing proposal, Higuchi thought to himself, his one eye sizing up the Nazi representative seated across from him.

The bartender silently placed the same bottle of strawberry wine, now a third full, on the table, along with a glass which he then carefully filled for Lena. With a wave of his hand, Higuchi called Saruta over and whispered something into his ear, following which Saruta nodded, rushed to the door, and instructed the bartender and the rest of the men inside to leave and return to their rooms, before himself bowing to Higuchi and taking his leave of the lounge, leaving Higuchi alone with Lena.

“Who else in the Japanese government is aware of this?” he inquired of Lena.

The Chief of Staff shook her head.

“None but you, mein Herr,” she replied before taking a sip of the wine, trusting its contents.

“I see.” Higuchi leaned back in his seat. Though his face did now show it, he was quite aware of the implications of the Reich’s proposals, both for the future of the nation and the succession, and for his other more immediate concerns. “Tell me a little bit more about these… new ways you have come up with that may extend the life of a dying man.”

Lena nodded.

“You may know zat zee Reich possesses advanced cybernetics,” she began. “Zee Reich Minister for Propaganda himself ist a cyborg, having been turned decades ago, und our science hast only improved. Our scientists und technicians vould be able to use our expertise, und preserve Herr Hikawa for some more time.”

“I see.” Higuchi crossed his arms. “Don’t take it as an offence… but I would like to know the Reich’s reasoning for this… medical altruism. Lord Hikawa has many enemies- we need to be certain that this is not an attempt of any sort to…” His sentence trailed off.

The officer merely nodded.

“Ja, vell, zee Reich expects no payment,” she began. “Herrin Viktoria vishes for stability in East Asia, und zee disintegration of Japan hinders zat goal. Zat ist vhy she ist offering zis solution.”

Higuchi sipped from his glass. The level of the wine in the elegant little flute dipped down to the bottom as he set it back on the table, clearing his throat pensively.

“That can be arranged”, he said, his sharp Adam’s apple shooting upwards and then back down to its original position as he swallowed deeply and cleared his throat a second time. “It… pains me, very much indeed, to see Lord Hikawa in the state he is in right now. Japan, as it is, stands on the brink of division and possibly civil war, with no clear succession in place. Only Lord Hikawa is holding the nation together right now. If I can arrange things such that his life can be prolonged, even for a bit longer, so as to prevent catastrophe…” Again, Higuchi’s voice trailed off, as his one eye quietly drifted.

“If you can arrange it, zee Reich’s best minds can arrive in 30 hours,” she explained, putting her own glass down.

“That will do”, said Higuchi. With that, he stood back up and beckoned to Saruta, who had been standing some distance away from the glass doors of the lounge, to come back in. “Saruta. Contact the Tokyo Office and inform Lord Hikawa that there will be a Reich entourage arriving at Haneda Airport within the next 30 hours.”

He paused for a moment, before continuing.

“Forward a copy of the message to Nagatomi, too. Don’t send it to Ashihara or Urayama.”

“Understood, Lord Higuchi.” Saruta bowed sharply and quickly exited the room.

With that, Higuchi turned back to face Lena, and silently offered an affirmative handshake. Lena clasped his hand with her gloved one and firmly shook it.

“It is my honour to speak with you today, Herrin Lena”, said Higuchi with a firm smile.

“Und mine vith you, Herr Junya,” she replied politely. “Und my thoughts are vith Herr Hikawa.”

Higuchi nodded.

“Then I suppose I will see you soon”, he said. “Until then.”

And with that, Higuchi took a quick but deep bow to Lena, and hastily made himself scarce.

…

Oi, Higuchi, what did I tell you the last time we spoke?”

Junya Higuchi was still dressed in his kimono when he had returned to his room to answer the call coming from the Japanese mainland. Behind him, his valet had arranged his daisho set, the handles pointing to the right towards the entrance of the room. On the other end of the video call was Shimon Urayama, his face steaming red.

“I told you to stay in your lane.” The Subordinate Lord of North Honshu sat behind an authoritative teak desk, clenching his knuckles till they turned white. “Yet you dare expel my emissaries from your office.”

Higuchi frowned and pursed his lips. His one eye darted left, watching the door over his blind side.

“Oi. Fuzakenna, kono kyokon-yaro.” Urayama snarled.

“Lord Urayama.” Higuchi put one hand into his obi and shifted his weight to the other foot. “I was well within my rights to have your man sent back. Do not forget that I, too, am one of the four Subordinate Lords. I am your equal in rank. And if you wish to speak to me about such matters, I expect to be shown the same respect that I have been willing to show you these past fifteen years.”

“Don’t bullshit me with your doublespeak, Higuchi.” Urayama’s tone darkened and his voice smoothened out. “We agreed, in 2017, that we would keep the telephone lines open at all times. What that dumbass Nagatomi does with his is none of my business. But if our line between Nagoya and Sendai is not being used, I will be more than happy to bypass you and go straight to the advisory council.”

“Trying to play the big boss now, are we, Lord Urayama?” Higuchi smirked.

“Shall I ask Nagako Hikawa for her thoughts?”

“Leave Nagako out of this.” The first sign of anger flashed across Higuchi’s face, as his one eye became shadowed and his brow furrowed furiously.

“You accuse me of politicking behind Lord Hikawa’s back”, Urayama continued, the wicked grin on his face indicating his awareness that he had struck a raw nerve with Junya Higuchi. “But I’m not the one who seduced his daughter.”

“You know that’s not how it was”, Higuchi protested angrily.

“Perhaps not now”, said Urayama. “But that is how it will be, in time to come.”

“In time to… You-”

“Higuchi. You have two options ahead of you now.” On the other end of the video call, Urayama swirled the Chinese-style gaiwan on his table gingerly, before pouring out a little bit of white tea into his teacup. “Lord Hikawa chose you as the first representative of Japan to the Conference. Since he will be attending via video call, you are essentially there only to show face.

“While you are there, I will send an envoy to Otsu. He will pick up Nagako Hikawa and have her brought to Sendai, where I will keep her safe.”

“Urayama!” Higuchi yelled, unable to formulate any words.

“You have proven yourself unable to control Toyokuni Hikawa”, Urayama continued. “And because Toyokatsu Hikawa is effectively dead, the only remaining child of Lord Hikawa is Nagako. I will see to it that she is well taken care of. Contact your men in Otsu, and tell them not to turn my next envoy away. If you turn my envoy away, the letters go public. Remember, Junya, you brought this on yourself. Of the four of us, you are the one with the most damning dirt. If you try to play the political game with me, I will make sure your head rolls long before Lord Hikawa breathes his last.”

Before Higuchi could protest, Urayama cut the call, and the TV screen went black. Fuming with rage, the Subordinate Lord of South Honshu stormed to the door and yanked it open, each individual striation on his muscular forearm throbbing furiously. The aide standing guard outside Higuchi’s door jumped in fright.

“Get Yoshiro Nagatomi on the phone right now”, Higuchi yelled.

“Sir, Lord Nagatomi is currently unavailable”, said the aide. “He sent a message on the secret channel twenty minutes ago informing us that he will be offline until 1:00AM.”

“Shit!”

Higuchi reared to his full height and puffed his chest out, folding his arms and gripping his own biceps. He began to pace around in the corridor, the veins in his neck visibly palpitating. Shortly after, another aide dashed into the room from the lift lobby, bearing a hastily-scribbled note in his hand.

“Lord Higuchi, there is someone who wishes to speak to you.”

…

[Demencia]

Anneliese Voß
Beijing

While the other attendees conversed, perhaps the most visibly distinctive figure noticeably did not. Even though she was sitting down in a custom chair that she'd brought with her, the Matriarch of Austria was as tall if not taller than many of the delegates at the conference. Instead of engaging with the others, Anneliese was talking with two of the people that had come with her. One of them was leaning against a large crate, likely what the chair had come in, while the other sat atop it-for once having the opportunity to look down upon the large woman.

"Mutti," the girl on the crate, likely no more than a teenager, began, "Müssen wir hier sein? Praktisch jeder hier sind unzuverlässig. Ich fühle micht nicht hier wohl." Her voice was quiet, knowing that several of the other delegates would be able to understand them.

Anneliese lowered her large goblet away from her lips. "Schatz, mach dir um mich keine Sorgen. Ich kann für mich selbst sorgen." She reached a massive hand out and touched the girl's cheek, also getting most of her head in the process.

"Ja, aber..." the blonde girl started, but the other individual with them interjected.

"Ganz ruhig!" he said, with nodding towards the older woman. "Es wird schon passen. Mutti ist zu zäh für jemand hier blöd kommen."

"Klar, du hast Recht. Ich kann einfach nicht anders."

Anneliese smiled, and took another sip from her chalice. "Ich bin wirklich durch deiner Besorgnis gerührt." this caused the blonde girl to blush a little.

[Europa Undivided]

Kondrad Sierakowsky
Polish ASSR Military Forward Headquarters
North of Canberra

Antoinette clasped Kondrad's hand and shook it forcefully with her gloved hand with a nod.

"Dead or not, it ist a delicate situation. Zee Fuehrerin hast her concerns, and vith zee High Council on an impasse, anysing to promote peace and friendship is preferred," she replied.

"My pleasure to conduct business, Ms. Antoinette.", Kondrad replied with a small smirk beneath his features. A bit of the British accent that he had acquired by his long time in the United Kingdom crept into his voice, though he didn't seem to give it that much thought. "I suppose that the Nordic Commonwealth would have to be negotiated with in order for all of this to go smoothly, unless if you wanted it to be more of something secretive... like the narcotics industry's smuggling into the NAU. You know what I mean. Not that I judge you for it. I tried some myself, long ago."

Kondrad took another glance at the globe, eyeing Russia's vast girth. "Now, I will just have to worry about Sergei's reaction when he gets wind of it. Well, that's what friends are for..."

Trailing off, he looked back up towards Antoinette. "We'll have something more formal in the terms of the agreement after this campaign is included. It would be better if the Fuhur... Fhur... Führerin is present. I think it would be interesting to know her personally, too."

---

Lavrentiy Fyodorovich Karamazov
The Forbidden City

With the Nazis flying off towards their other operations and Anya still sticking around, Lavrentiy would have little to do but wait for the ceremony itself. And really, what a splendid thing it was! Truly befitting of the Yuan Crown... the 15 year old empress.

Oh, a child ruler? Now that's a little suspicious, Lavrentiy thought as he watched her movements of summoning the storm into the city for a few moments before dispersing the dark clouds. He wasn't superbly amazed, for he himself had seen metas of similar or even greater power. Lord Zhakarov and the Morrigan come to mind, though his sister sometimes whipped up blizzards when she felt annoyed.

With the ceremony proper all but done, the delegates and leaders were mingling with one another in a vast crowd within Tiananmen Square. Lavrentiy knew, though, that beneath those false smiles and words of congratulations were minds of seething suspicions and self interests. All these leaders were for a reason, and it certainly wasn't just to watch the spectacle of the Miengzhi Empress summoning the divine wind. They were here for the conference, perhaps to move chess pieces of their own to twist it to their favour. Perhaps, he could do that himself, but the Collection is in dire need of new exhibits.

Or maybe, that could wait.

"Well, that was quite the shocking entrance.", Lavrentiy said to Anya, standing beside the towering woman while sipping a glass of beverage that their hosts has provided as they waited. "I wonder if the Lord of Vladivostok is here as well."

[Union Princes]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0710 20 May 2020
Aisling Keyes

"I assure you, Marie," Aisling said, taking a more serious tone now that she had her attention. 'If there was some sort of quota that I had a carte blanche to meet, we would not be having this discussion. It's always a craic to be in France."

For a moment, she glanced over to Monika before turning her attention back to Marie.

"Though quotas make for a bloody interesting segue," she continued. "Now, why does it happen that you insist on causing a piss-up at least once a month? I mean, Jesus, you know the damned Italians don't like you, and I'd really fucking like you eejits to not start a bloody civil war during a congressional campaign."

Marie's eyebrows furrowed when Aisling's accent took over her ranting words. Now, what was the executioner accusing her of? The Lord Regent couldn't tell what happened the past week or two that would warrant her presence. A great annoyance for sure, just when she was having a productive morning.

"I don't know what you consider a 'piss-up' but I can assure you, I've been quite content examining my country's woes rather than agitate my neighbors." Marie responded bitterly, "If you're not here to kill me, then please leave so I can finish my meeting with Monika here...We can speak once this is over."

[Miekzhemy]

Co-written w/ Brit and Bing

Viktoria von Eisenfaust
Freyja Graefin von Ehrenburg
Khereid Dorjigiin Tolui-Noyan
Khereid Dorjigiin Alakai-Khagan, the Míngzhì Empress

---

养心殿
Yǎngxīndiàn

紫禁城
Zǐjìnchéng, The Forbidden City
Beijing - The Great Empire of Yuan

The Hall of Mental Cultivation - a modest building in comparison to some of the grander structures of the Forbidden City.

A miniature palace within a palace...

From its humble beginning as a mere workshop for artisans, to the personal residence of the Emperor himself, the Yangxindian quickly became just as important to Imperial China as the gargantuan Halls of the Outer and Inner Court. From the monotonous matters of state and governance, to private audiences with ministers, it was within these chambers that many of the day-to-day administrative and political affairs of the Emperor were conducted.

Finally free of much of the ceremonial trappings that had decorated her some minutes before, the Empress sat quietly upon the throne of the main hall - a modest, bench-like seat of carved wood and padded with cushions of fine, golden silk. Ignoring the soft footfalls of the courtiers around her and the ministers standing at her side, the ceaseless waiting had seen her begin to slouch to the left, propping an elbow on the armrest. Her hand gently tangled with one of the many locks of long, onyx hair that hung elegantly down past her shoulders, as sleek and soft as the cushions she sat upon. For a time, she curled the tuft of hair around her finger.

Then, the doors of the main hall finally slid open, and a lone attendant shuffled modestly into the chamber. Without hesitation, he fell to his knees, and kowtowed before the occupied throne. He remained as such for several long seconds, lightly knocking his forehead against the blackened tile floor, the act of which casting a soft, reverberating echo through the chamber. He rose, and stepped aside of the doors.

"Your Imperial Majesty, the Great Lord of South America..."

Viktoria and Freyja walked through the great doors leading into the chamber, where the empress waited, with the precision and order that their years as soldiers permitted, their black dress uniforms immaculate and their medals and honours on full display. The pair gave a 20 degree bow, and waited for the empress to speak first.

It was then that several seconds passed in naught but utter silence.

Even as the two had entered the room, the Empress hadn’t so much as budged from her lounged position on the throne. At a glance, her entire body seemed to express nothing but sheer, unadulterated boredom, and the glazed look in her eyes made it seem like the girl was on the verge of falling asleep right then and there. One attendant at her side seemed ready to introduce the two again, repeating what the first had said upon walking in. But the mere holding-up of a single finger silenced him before a word could even leave his mouth.

And for another long time, the girl’s azure blue eyes looked them both up and down.

The tall one, however, was the first to catch and hold her attention. The broad, imposing stature. A form like that of a finely-sculpted statue - neither too shapely nor burly - all hugged tightly by those rigid, monochrome dress uniforms the Reich so favored. Emerald eyes, of sparkling beauty. The skin of the woman’s bared face - the lightly tanned but still fair complexion so often attributed to those of the West…

And even more eye-catching; the hair. The locks of dazzling, orange-red hair…

Bright and fiery as the sun itself…

Yes, she could see it now. It was just as she had pictured it, when her servants spoke of the so-called “fine, chiseled specimens of men and women from the West.” Even without the many adornments upon her uniform - no doubt indicative of her many accomplishments and honorifics - it was clear that the woman before her carried herself like a true born-and-raised soldier…

”Your Grace…?”

She blinked as a hushed whisper of Mandarin from the attendant at her side roused her from her thoughts. The girl did not seem to react much beyond this, however. In fact, after another moment’s pause, the Empress’ soft-spoken voice finally permeated the quiet of the chamber--not in her native Mongolian, nor Chinese but in a peculiar, almost completely non-accented English, devoid of any semblance of stress on the syllables.

“Is the short one your handmaiden?”

For a moment, there was silence from the pair of foreigners as they exchanged glances with one another, but Freyja slowly grinned as she realized what the little empress in front of her had actually said.

Freyja quickly brought a hand to her mouth as she accidentally snorted while trying to contain her laughter. Her rigid soldier’s posture was shattered by the surrealness of the scene, and her unrestrained laughter loudly echoed throughout the chamber.

“I think I like her, Mäuschen,” Freyja stuttered out as she fought to catch her breath. “Do you think they’d let us take her home with us?”

Needless to say, the reaction of the others around them was of varying degrees of bewilderment. Some handfuls of courtiers, primarily those stationed around the throne, looked...almost nervously between themselves. Some shot their anxious gazes to the doors, where Tolui had already quietly entered the room behind Viktoria and Freyja. And for a second, even the Prince seemed to have been left absolutely floored, mouth half-covered by a hand. Though he showed no sign of stifling even a chuckle, part of him seemed amused by the first words she had spoken to a foreign dignitary.

Nonetheless, he wasted no time coming to his sister’s aid. He shuffled unnoticed along the end of the room, gently pushing past some of the attendants and ministers to take a place at her right.

Meanwhile, the Empress, who had been quite inexpressive overall during the entire encounter, now seemed thoroughly confused. She turned an ear to her brother, as a brief exchange in their native Mongolian spoke in a hushed tone, beneath Freyja’s words.

Suddenly, the girl’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, staring dumbfounded into those of the Prince. The expression quickly turned to one of inquisitiveness, as she looked back to the two foreigners before her. Namely, Viktoria.

”You, are Viktoria von Eisenfaust?” her voice inquired for clarification, quickly silencing the room. “Great Lord of South America?”

“I am,” Viktoria said with detached confidence, gesturing to her friend. Any annoyance or embarrassment that Viktoria may have had was seemingly removed from her tone. “And this is Gruppenführerin Freyja Reichsgräfin von Ehrenburg. We are honoured to meet with you, Your Majesty,” she said before bowing, glancing over to the red-haired beauty beside her to do the same.

“We apologize for any confusion, your majesty,” Freyja said after bowing with a flourish.

As she stood straight once again, the warm, jovial grin had completely vanished from Freyja’s face. She clearly hesitated as she returned her gaze to the floor.“Please pardon any offense we may have caused,” Freyja quietly added.

After yet another pause, the girl cocked her head to the side, taking another moment to look upon the rather diminutive woman. Stature aside, the Kaiserin’s overall appearance in comparison to her more decorated underling was puzzling. Was the woman not a monarch in her own right? Though difficult to notice at a glance, the Empress’ face seemed to cycle through a multitude of emotions.

Before falling upon one of...mild disappointment.

“Hm,” the sound came from behind closed lips, before turning to a soft murmur.

“I thought you would be taller…”

The Empress made a dismissive gesture with her hand before the Prince could quietly intervene again. She switched back to Chinese.

”Leave us, please.”

Without pause, the silence of the room was immediately broken by the collective bows of the many robed men in the chamber. With the soft shuffling of shoes against the tile floor, they retreated from the room. When silence finally graced them again, all that remained were the Empress, her brother, and the two foreigners before them. The former still had yet to shift from her position on the throne, idly drumming her fingers upon the armest.

“Have you found the new Zijincheng to your liking?”

“It reminds me much of Welthauptstadt Germania, ma’am,” Viktoria returned. “A place fit for a Great Lord.”

“Germania,” the Empress repeated, her curiosity somewhat piqued. “It is your home?”

Viktoria nodded. “Yes ma’am, officially at least,” she added. “I usually reside at Burg Eisenfaust,” Viktoria explained.

The girl finally shifted upon her throne, sitting upright as the foreigner answered her myriad of questions.

“Please, tell me more,” she inquired. “About your home…”

Viktoria relaxed her shoulders somewhat.

“Germania is a large, planned city,” she told the Empress. “With many wide avenues and parks and monuments. In the centre is a great dome, the Volkshalle, where our government meets,” she told her.

The Kaiserin paused for a moment.

“My real home, Burg Eisenfaust, is a large gothic castle outside of Germania. It has many rooms.”

“Much like the Forbidden City…” the Empress added. At the same time, her brow contorted a bit at the thought of the Burg itself. She did not seem to dress like a monarch, yet lived within her own castle? Every answer seemed to spark more questions of her own.

Meanwhile, the door to the east wing of the Hall slowly slid open, drawing the girl’s attention to the handful of robed attendants that quietly shuffled into the room, heads bowed low so as to not meet their eye.

“Would you like tea?” the Empress asked with another off-hand gesture. Some of them went about laying down a few cushioned seats, as well as a small table of lacquer within the center of the chamber, before making way for another to place a tea set down upon it. The pieces were of engraved enamel, colored a vibrant, royal blue.

Viktoria looked over at Freyja and back at the empress, nodding politely. The attendants wasted no time pouring a number of cups for them, the yellowish liquid casting a strong but fragrant floral aroma into the room. It seemed to compliment the faint smell of burning incense.

”Máojiān,” the Empress explained. “One of the finest green teas from the Central Plain…”

But her aforementioned curiosity, however, still sat with the Burg.

“Do the royalty of your nations still live in castles?”

The Kaiserin took a sip of the tea, letting its rich aromas linger in her mouth before swallowing.

“Many do,” she admitted. “Both Gruppenführerin von Ehrenburg and I have many castles and lodges, and our vassals and officers prefer the old styles as well.”

The Empress took a sip of her own, having been handed a cup by one of the servants before they bowed humbly out of the chamber. She took a moment to savor the brisk, long-lasting aftertaste. At that note, she then turned her gaze to Freyja. The ‘underling.’

“You live in your own castle too?” she asked, momentarily shooting a side glance to her brother and back. “Are they as big and fancy as the ones in Europe?”

“My favored home is in the Andes,” Freyja answered. “The mountains make it difficult to build massive, elaborate castles in, but it is comfortable. Perhaps more so than the hard, cold stone of Burg Eisenfaust.”

The name seemed to strike a familiar chord. “The Andes,” she repeated, aiming to pronounce it by example. Despite it being at a conversational level, her English was still evidently lacking in a few areas. “I heard the mountains of South America are beautiful, and stretch for thousands of miles…”

As the Empress took note of the imposing woman’s physique again, one of her earlier questions came back to mind that she hadn’t yet had a chance to ask.

“Are you a hunter?”

Freyja’s green eyes widened in excitement and an almost childlike glee at the question, and she let her posture relax for the first time since the outburst of laughter.

“She is,” Viktoria chimed in, setting her tea cup down. “The best in the Reich, and an exceptional singer,” she mentioned, making a quick glance and smirk at her friend.

A faint blush bloomed across Freyja’s cheeks as Viktoria interjected.

“That is no boast from Lady Viktoria,” Freyja added. “I adore the sport. I have travelled across the world for it and I usually go on a trip after an official meeting concludes when the local lords are accommodating.”

Though her face did little to express it, the Empress seemed absolutely captivated by their supposed exploits. She leaned forward somewhat in her throne, sitting almost at the edge of the cushioned seat for a time.

“And the medals? Tokens of your…” she took a moment to find the correct word, lightly gesturing to the both of them.

“...veterancy?”

Viktoria was mid-sip when the Empress asked about their medals. She quietly put the cup on its saucer.

“Yes,” she said simply, almost a whisper. She pointed to a bronze star with swords, one of eleven medals she wore.

“My first one, the War Merit Cross, second class, I received in 2003. I took several bullets for my squad. I was five years old.” She then pointed to her Iron Cross, on her collar.

“And this was for destroying a platoon of Resistance soldiers. We were holed up behind enemy lines. I snuck around the position at night and attacked from the rear.”

“I suppose the Pour le Merite is what would interest people the most to hear, but the story is deceptively simple,” Freyja continued after Viktoria with a gesture to her own collar.

“It was in 2010, in some no-name village in the Andes that was serving as a key junction for one of the guerilla trails at the time. We were told to essentially map the trail so that the army could better patrol it, but what we weren’t told was that it was also the staging ground for one of the local units.

“It was routine at first, but they always are. That meant talking to people, reconning the area, and looking for signs of activity. My Spanish is better than my Kameraden so I generally stayed in the villages we were in when we were driven out for this kind of work. Our handlers reported that there was some kind of force moving along the path we came, so I grabbed two cans of ammo from the truck, and scaled the church’s belltower. Such an obvious vantage point is usually a death sentence, but they must not have had mortars.

“I ended up spending three days in that tower while the rest of the squad, led by Lady Viktoria, pushed further down the road so they could map it as ordered. I lost count after 250 wounded or killed, trying to stay awake was difficult enough. I welcomed sleep when they returned while we waited for a zeppelin to extract us.”

Glancing over to Viktoria, Freyja clasped the medal with her hand. “And that went uncited for decoration until over a year ago when Viktoria presented me with the Blue Max...”

The stories they shared gradually shifted the mood of the room. Viktoria herself seemed almost in a daze after her own, and listening to Freyja recount a tale she knew well.

The Empress was...ominously quiet as they spoke--much like she typically was, though the previously childish twinkle in the girl’s eyes eventually gave way to a serious, solemn gaze. With folded hands and interlocked fingers at rest in front of her mouth, she listened intently to each and every word.

War. Horrid, horrid war. In the eyes of many in the upper echelon of the Imperial Court, war had always seemed like a noble, glorious thing. And at this far from the bottom rungs of the proverbial hierarchy, it definitely did. But what sat before her were not just lords or another monarch, boasting of the successes of their faceless underlings - fighting, suffering, and dying while hardly ever knowing the face of who ruled them - but of soldiers that had witnessed war’s horrors firsthand.

Indeed, the thought occurred to her, some of those medals were more than just trinkets, flaunted by the high and mighty…

In fact, to her, even such “tales of bravery” from the two felt more akin to the stories regarding the conquests of her late father. At such a tender, young age, those of the court rarely subjected her to anything more than the fantastical stories of glorious battle - of her brave father subjugating entire provinces of the Middle Kingdom by his strong but benevolent hand alone. But it was not these hollow stories that encapsulated the true nature of the warfare of the era, but those of the soldiery themselves. The ones before her. The veterans of the Honor Guard, resigned to their more peaceful tenures within the Imperial Palace; The gossip and conversations she was...not meant to hear. And though she understood little at the time, as she inevitably matured in recent years--or, was forced to mature--in the wake of her ascension, it became ever more clear.

The true nature of her father. The carnage of his wars. The raw destruction, wrought by his hand - by the incredible power that now coursed through her own veins.

The real reason she sat upon this throne…

She felt a tingle in her index finger. Still half numbed.

“You have…” the girl muttered after a pause, hesitating for a moment. “Seen a lot, then--”

She found herself interrupted by the gentle placing of a hand upon the back of her bench-like seat. The Empress turned her head, briefly exchanging a few more words with Tolui in their native Mongolian. The latter had tapped upon a watch, hidden neatly below the sleeve of his ceremonial deel.

“Yes… Business, you…” the Empress turned back to the two.

“You have...business here, yes?”

The question seemed to bring Viktoria back to the present. She blinked a few times before nodding.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “I’ll be frank with you,” Viktoria said, looking first at Tolui, and then back at his sister. “The East Asian situation is of paramount importance to the Reich’s long term objectives. Namely, with the Resistance all but defeated, containing the NUSSR is our primary geopolitical goal, and that requires strong ties with East Asia, but, perhaps more important, a stable East Asia.” Viktoria glanced back over at Tolui.

“I am unsure how much you are aware, but East Asia’s volatility is reason for some concern. This Conference is a step in the right direction, but more is needed.”

“Indeed,” Tolui spoke, finally stepping in to take the reins somewhat, though it did not stop the Empress from giving her undivided attention. “Things are far more favorable than they were five years ago, of course, but there is still much that needs to be done. I had the privilege of meeting with Lord Hikawa and Lord Lei some weeks ago regarding the formation of this Conference...”

After a moment’s pause, the Prince crossed his arms and shook his head, banishing the idle thought.

“But I would spare you the lengthy rhetoric,” he said, vaguely gauging that she had no interest in hollow chatter. “What business have you to discuss in regards to the Empire’s goals, Lady von Eisenfaust?”

Viktoria looked at Tolui and then back at the empress.

“You are the Great Lord of East Asia, or are you not?”

The breaching of etiquette aside, her words stalled the audience even harder than their previous hiccup.

In fact, Tolui was left practically aghast by Viktoria’s question. Insulted, even. Not only for his own honor or position as his sister’s trusted regent, but for such a brazen questioning of the Empress’ own authority? Had she uttered such things in the presence of the court, there would have been an uproar…

But all the while, the Empress simply stared, her perpetually listless gaze boring into VIktoria’s own eyes. And although the girl still hadn’t budged in the wake of such words, there was something peculiar about her fixed stare. Something stirring beneath those bright azure eyes she inherited from her father on that fateful night.

Something cold.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the Empress’ lips, for the first time in a while, curled into a faint, almost amused grin.

A sharp exhale escaped her nose. And though still meeting the Kaiserin’s eyes with her own, she leaned her head towards Tolui, her delicate voice speaking once more in her native Mongolian.

”биднийг орхи, ах аа…”

The Prince finally turned to look upon his sister, his surprise now shifting to utter bewilderment at her words. He opened his mouth to speak himself, but was swiftly silenced again by his sister’s voice--still soft-spoken, but now with a certain firmness to her tone.

"Чи намайг сонссон."

At that, Tolui finally conceded, ever-so-slightly hanging his head. A quiet sigh escaped his lungs, followed by a final side glance to the duo sitting before them.

With a bow, his body shifted and stirred, the edges of his form blurring and contorting like that of a heat haze. There was a faint ripple in the air, as the haze grew to that of a distorted spiral - like a black hole had opened up in the Prince’s chest, pulling him and the light around his body into nothing.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished from sight, gracing them with silence once more.

Now alone, the Empress finally rose from the throne, lightly pushing herself off from the armrest she had been half-lounging against. Though hard to tell on account of her long robes, the girl did not stand, but rather hovered--floating gracefully some inches above the floor.

The girl left behind her throne and the remains of the tea that had been set for them, gliding almost like a ghost towards the pair of opulent, paneled doors to the east.

“I want to show you something…”

[Arlye Austros]

Camberra’s Husk. Mid-day.

With air reconnaissance at full swing during the first hours of the push against Canberra, the rebels were roughly aware of who was present at where they were fighting.
The most obvious threat was posed by the North and South Americans and the Germans in the south. While East Europeans and Middle Eastern Forces were still in a position to strike from the Yass River, further north.

Outskirt battles were also being fought farther away. Wagga Wagga and Albury held the line against a joint-African push on the west, so far resisting with intense aviation. To the east across Lake George the Stronghold of Bathurst was partially surrounded between the NUSSR-Middle Eastern Front and the advance from the east by a combination of Asian Forces that partially occupied the plains north of Bungendore.
The Government Board was focused through the day to counter air incursions with their missile defense systems, nicknamed Sparkfire. Missile platforms placed within the ruined city aimed and shot against the aircraft breaching into the city radius, and sometimes extended further ahead south towards Royalla, providing some minor cover to the forces there.

And it proved to work. Throughout the morning the main efforts had been at Royalla, with more resources poured there. The trench warfare and tactical retreat seemed to cause some damages to the South American Reich, at least enough to prevent a strong push into the forest.
It was Julius McAldricht who reported the Albionite strike as it happened.
News quickly travelled throughout the ruins of Canberra, as the missile platforms aimed south, concentrating on keeping the air incursions at bay. This time, eight out of fourteen platforms in the southern quarter of Canberra were hit and neutralized either temporarily or definitely. Command dispatched three squadrons to deal with the situation, but as soon as they entered the theatre reports came in of a surge in air activity and electronic counter-measures.

Only the first squadron that made it into the area managed to pull out before the blast could catch them, not so much for their superior engines and acceleration, but for the captain’s experience and Alburian avionic tech. The other two squadrons from Wagga Wagga and Brisbane were caught in the blast area, and all eighteen aircrafts were destroyed mid-air.

The Goulburn troops stationed at Royalla and the nearby area quickly took cover as the pressure smashed on the ground, causing devastation between the trees just south of the station and blasting off the dust and pebbles from the West Guises. Then the attack was renewed under a heavy bombardment.

Royalla, Southern Canberra. Canberra’s Husk.

The concrete fortifications were battered by seemingly-aimed artillery strikes, causing ruptures in the structure around the outpost just south of the enlarged solar farm. The fight, however, was still not above them, as most of the action as now focused on the suburban Royalla area, south of the forest between the enemy lines and the power station.

A desperate close-quarter fight ensued as soon as the airstrikes by the Albionite Airforce receded and gave a break. The still surprised Goulbourn infantry deployed in specific houses and buildings, aiming to catch the enemy advance in pockets and ambush zones of close cross fire. Though at first quite successful at this strategy against the South Americans moving into the battle, their further reinforcements by their co-nationals strained their efforts, having to rely on electronic coordination provided by the vast databanks and processors sunk under Canberra. Able to coordinate and quickly asses if any given foe was a metahuman, their abilities identified and reported on the spot, the Goulbourn first to fifth platoons could easily counter any surprise.

That until the North Americans arrived. Their irruption in the battlefield was quickly noted to command, while the enhanced electronics quickly rose to the challenge. Cross-data out-processed cross-data and automatic fire patters proved to strain their sub-urban defenses even more. With escalating loses, the Golbourn infantry had to retreat to the Royalla forests. Leaving IEDs was advised, but not carried out in the hurry, instead depending on the minefield on the southern edge of the forest to cover their retreat. The mines were passed by the retreating Fireteams, looking at their electronic display with a glimpse of hope for their own survival.

North of Royalla the core of the Goulbourn operation was reinforced with a dozen main battle tanks arriving from Canberra along with over two hundred footmen, all courtesy of the Adelaide Governorship, now housed in Canberra. Once they were informed of the N.A.U. presence, their officers were eager to enter combat, and had to be dissuaded by Goulbourn officers to wait for them to come first. The tanks deployed at the foothill of the Rob Roys, and began making calculations for long-range shots, using whatever information the frontlines relayed and targeting incoming vehicles that the Pan-Americans were bringing, then opened fire at 3.300 meters, focusing on the SS Mechanized and Motorized Divisions.

With that breeze of covering fire -made even more notable by a beam of energy shot at the advancing enemy from their own side- the infantry that pulled back from Royalla closed the gaps on their line. The panzers moving towards the forest were met with intense fire trenches behind the hidden line of mines, while outlying groups still occupying some nearby buildings, probably on suicidal missions at this point, presented their rocket launchers at the vehicles from the sides and opened fire.

Their defense had been partially based upon a stream of fire being made from the Rob Roys, but reports quickly came from West Guises Outpost, to the southwest. The system of had prepared to use surgical missile strikes on the enemy that weren’t made before the Camelot unleashed its missiles. Soon after they resumed their preparations a new threat appeared, and they soon acknowledged Amelia Kelvin and her cryogenic powers was probably in the front. The bunkers, hidden between the denser bush of the southern side of the hill, were surrounded by a frost which made operating weapons a bit of a finger-biting torture. Suited to fight in the Australian dying summer, the men and women of the Husk’s Militia had to endure arctic conditions while opening fire on the Caribbean Division climbing the hill. They needed to act quick.

Nullfields were deployed on the entrances and openings of the semi-interred bunkers. There wasn’t a lot they could do about the temperature, but at least they could deter the Cryopath from coming too close with her known super strength. If this was indeed the Supreme Commander of the N.A.U. in Australia, it could become an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed.
From the back of the hill the missile platforms and MANPADS were prepared to shoot on the Albionite Air Squadrons. Missiles were finally shot back to attempt deterring the air attacks.

Further north, at Gilmore Outpost, three S-300 missile systems, towed by their respective Ural vehicles, activated. Operated by Russian crews from the now-fallen Upper Nepean Governorship, the introduced the target and unleashed their 9M96E1. In seconds, fifteen 330 kg missiles, each carrying a 24 kg warhead, were dispatched at 900 meters a second. But they were not aimed towards the Camelot. Command had already informed of the South American airfleet moving towards the city, and not wanting to fully give up air control, ordered their destruction. Having lost the ability to respond from Royella after the Albionite attack, it fell on the Russians to deal with this.

In Royalla, the lines consolidated and braced for the full brunt of the combined attack. The presence of a meta on their side, still unidentified at least, gave the men courage to keep fighting.

[Britanania]

Élysée Palace, Paris, 0715 20 May 2020

Monika sat back down, noticing the cold glances that Aisling was giving her, as the Holy Regent and de facto Great Lord of Western Europe talked. The Reich’s Foreign Minister, after a while, turned back over to Marie.

“I believe vee are finished here anyvay,” she told Marie. “Reich officials shall arrive soon to begin zee transfer, und those advisors along vith them.”

Monika rose and gave a short bow to Marie.

“I vill be staying at zee Reich’s embassy in Paris for a few more days as vee vork out the finer details of the transfer,” she informed her, before turning to Aisling and giving her a bow.

“Herrin Aisling,” she said simply before walking towards the door.

---

Polish ASSR Headquarters, North of Canberra, 1525 20 May 2020

“Ja, I think she vould very much enjoy zat,” Antoinette agreed, her gloved hand returning to her side before she gave the Polish lord a bow.

“If zat is all, Herr Kondrad, I know you are a busy man, und much is required of you. I shall inform zee Führerin personally,” she told him before turning towards the exit and making her way out.

---

South American Lines, near Royalla

The fighting intensified, devolving to a hybrid form of trench warfare, compounded by what appeared to be unconfirmed metahuman forces on the Resistance. For now, the Reichswehr and Waffen-SS assault halted, as the South American forces dug in to defend what little ground they gained, relying now on their artillery to soften the enemy before resuming the attack.

Orders were sent, and calls for assaults on other sectors of the city to begin to help relieve pressure--specific calls were sent to the NUSSR and South Han contingents, but was wider and for all Dynastic forces.

Above, the Reich Marine Luftschiff Abteilung Null Zwei arrived, accompanied by a fighter squadron, fired their AMRAAM missiles against the incoming Resistance fighters as dogfighting began over the skies. When available, the Reich Zeppelins targeted Resistance ground fighting vehicles and tanks.

[Nagakawa]

Tangchao Hotel, Beijing

Lei Wen-bin, upon finishing his clandestine meeting with Magomedkhabib Abdulbasirov, had driven directly back to the Tangchao Hotel, where his father and the rest of the Lei Family’s delegation to the Conference of Greater East Asia were staying.

Without wasting any time, the young man went straight up to the rooftop lounge of the hotel, where Lei Tjin-fei’s men had had the whole lounge cleared out, leaving only Lei Tjin-fei himself and the bartender. The warlord was dressed in a deep blue nightgown, his jian hanging by his belt, its golden tassels dangling.

“Father. I trust your meeting with General Qiu went well?”

“Oh, yes, Wen-wen.” In the privacy of the lounge, with only the bartender in attendance (who had been vetted beforehand), Lei Tjin-fei addressed his son diminutively. “It was a productive meeting indeed.”

Wen-bin smiled. His father, one hand resting on his jian, looked out at the Beijing skyline, swirling his glass of Cointreau on the rocks thoughtfully and bringing it to his mouth for a sip.

“To keep the Southern provinces under our thumbs, there are three men you must control”, said Lei Tjin-fei. “One of them is General Qiu Shuai. Another is General Xie Jing. The third is General Ang Jia-jie.”

“I see.” Wen-bin went over to the bartender. “Auchentoshan 1966 on the rocks, please.”

The bartender nodded silently.

“When these three men are on your side”, Lei Tjin-fei continued, musing partly to himself, “Gao Guan-yin will not take a single inch of our land, no matter how many of her troops she throws at us. They not only have complete control of the armies in Zhejiang, Anhui, and Hubei, but also command the respect of the people. We can afford to let Fuzhou fall, now that we have moved our capital up to Hefei. But we cannot afford to let any of those three men slip from our grasp.”

“Father, if I may.” Wen-bin took his drink from the bartender and returned to his father’s side, by the window. “I do not think those three men are the most… savoury of people.”

“They are not good human beings”, said Lei Tjin-fei. “But they are good generals. To keep the hungry wolf out, it does not matter that the fence is ugly. Only that it is strong and reliable.”

Lei Wen-bin chuckled.

“How was your meeting with Magomedkhabib Abdulbasirov, by the way?” Lei Tjin-fei turned away from the window to face his son, a warm smile pulled tight across his face.

The question caught Wen-bin off guard. He had assumed that the meeting was private- how his father had known, he could not have fathomed.

“The… meeting?”

“Yes.” Lei Tjin-fei smiled.

Lei Wen-bin glanced furtively around the room, his eyes betraying his horror. As he turned back to face his father, Lei Tjin-fei had suddenly stepped closer to his son, towering over him with a dark and ominous expression, the smile still stretched over his face.

“Take this as a warning, Lei Wen-bin.” The warlord’s voice had suddenly deepened, becoming gravelly and frightening. “You may speak of anything you wish behind my back. But on the matter of succession, I am the only one who will be saying anything.”

“Yes, Father.” Lei Wen-bin swallowed. He sheepishly set his whiskey glass down on the dining table next to him, unable to make eye contact with Lei Tjin-fei. The gears in his mind continued to turn.

How the hell did he know about that meeting? The doors were locked. There was nobody around. Are the Dagestani Mafia in league with him too??

“With that out of the way”, said Lei Tjin-fei, turning back to look out the window at the skyline, his drink in hand, “I will see you tomorrow at the Conference hall. Have a good rest.”

“Good night, Father.”

And without another word, Lei Wen-bin quickly took his leave of the rooftop lounge, pulling his jacket closed and going back to his room with great haste. His whiskey lay untouched on the table, as Lei Tjin-fei began pacing around in the lounge, having downed the remainder of the Cointreau in his glass.

With the lounge mostly empty, the doors opened, and in walked the black-clad SS Chief of Staff. Lena looked around, and seeing Lei Tjin-Fei alone, approached the lord, bowing low.

“Good evening, Herrin Lena.” Lei Tjin-fei’s demeanour was colourful and pompous. He ushered the Reich’s representative to the side of the lounge, to the coffee table and the plush leather sofas. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, take a seat.”

Lena nodded and sat down.

“How have you been?” she asked in Mandarin. “We’ve been hearing interesting rumours in the Reich regarding East Asia.”Lena

“Politically… things could certainly be better.” Lei was not one to mince words, even for the sake of appearances. He leaned back in the sofa and swirled the Auchentoshan 1966 in his glass, which Wen-bin had left without touching when he took his leave of the room. “But me? You don’t have to worry about me. Though I reckon you couldn’t say the same about Lord Hikawa.” He chuckled.

Lena herself offered a smile.

“Yes, but Lord Hikawa’s condition is only one cause for concern.” The young woman’s smile faded. “The Reich is concerned about the stability in East Asia, but we’re working on a solution.” She paused a bit. “How are your contacts in Macau and Hong Kong?”

“If you mean Donald Tsui and Lam Wai-chee, then I’d be pleased to inform you that they’re doing well and fine”, Lei replied. He took a sip of the whiskey and, finding it not particularly to his liking, put the glass back on the coffee table. “They are quite important, in fact, in keeping my supply chains secure. Both from Hikawa and from that woman, Gao Guan-yin.”

He sat up straight, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he discreetly sized Lena up.

“Is there… something the Reich needs their help with?” Lei’s voice became a little more hushed.

Lena leaned forward a bit herself and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

“We might need to reroute our supply chain there,” she informed him. “This conference might mean a crackdown on our activities, and we’ll need to cover your direct involvement. South Han is much more autonomous and might be easier to move through, and, if things go awry, Lady Gao could serve as a fall guy.”

“This is interesting. Very interesting indeed.” Lei shifted about in his seat. He took the jian by his side and rested it like a cane on the carpeted floor, resting his hands on the pommel and leaning his weight on it. “Pray tell… what activities, exactly, are you speaking of?”

He paused briefly to clear his throat before continuing. “I don’t mind lending my assistance to the Reich, but I need to know exactly what it is you plan to do. As it is, I have no intention of running afoul of the Yuan.”

“A trade deal is in the works to move the majority of the Reich’s trade business in East Asia through Hong Kong and Macau,” she explained. “Including Guild trade, despite its dubious legality in East Asia. We’ll need you to move Guild goods from the ports throughout South Han, at least until the issue of the Yuan Court is settled.”

“That can be arranged.” Lei crossed his legs. “And, I presume, your rerouted trade routes will pass through the territories of Gao Guan-yin too?”

She nodded.

“Perhaps only temporarily,” she admitted. “I don’t know the full details yet, but it is unlikely to be a permanent arrangement.”

“And I imagine there is some reason you came to talk to me rather than to Gao? Even though the trade routes pass through her territories.”

“The Guild plans to use the new routes to increase volume, and we’ll need 三合會 support,” she replied. “We’ll be happy to increase your cut to cover any expenses this may incur; we expect a ten fold increase in revenue by next year.”

“You mentioned something about dubious legality”, Lei interjected, with a wily half smile. “This good that you plan to ship through Gao’s territory… is it what I think it is?”

She nodded ruefully.

“It is, and that is why it is better for the wolf to attract the hunter's attention than the dragon,” Lena replied.

“Donald Tsui is indebted to me, because I saved his life twelve years ago”, said Lei Tjin-fei. “He will be a more than reliable point of contact for your operations in Macau. After our meeting is done, I will contact Lam Wai-chee in Hong Kong to speak to him regarding this new… arrangement. He will most certainly not mind taking on this additional work. On your way out, stop by Room 119. The guy in that room will help you establish a direct connection to my clandestine offices in Hong Kong and Macau. But bear in mind that those two cities are under the wolf’s control; you will have to operate under the utmost secrecy, and your timing in all things will have to be impeccable. I cannot risk having my liaisons exposed.”

“I understand. I’ll inform the Huntress as soon as I can,” Lena said as she rose and gave the elderly warlord a bow.

“Thank you for seeing me, on such short notice, Lord Lei.”

“The pleasure is mine, Herrin Lena”, Lei replied courteously. “It’s my honour to do business with the Reich.”

…

~+~+~+~

[Pragia]

Co-Write with Britanania

Teris would be lagging behind somewhat, still outside the red gates of the Imperial City. The display of the empress’ power was not beneath his appreciation. It truly was a display of power, to be able to control the skies above and earth below. Teris had very little information regarding the Yuan Empress, having a much more whole understanding of her father, but it was plainly clear that she was making a statement: that her will controlled the earth itself. Perhaps appropriate as a display, it still made Teris consider just how aggressive this was. Perhaps he was just too used to far less ostentatious displays in the North American Union.

He didn’t ruminate on such things long though, because he was approached by a plainly German man in a white suit, a bold decision, but one rewarded by the gleaming sunlight. Teris knew who he was, and was glad to know he likewise was well aware. “Herr Max. I suppose I should have expected to meet you here among the dignitaries. It's a lovely day now, courtesy of our host. Truth be told I just made it in about half an hour ago, busy times in Australia but I figured I could take a break to see the Imperial City.” Teris would say casually, holding out a hand to gesture to him before him going towards the square as they spoke.

Teris knew quite a bit about the Reich’s minister for propaganda, seeing as he was essentially in competition with him for the hearts and minds of the people. The old nazi was a charming fellow, much more amicable than his peers, though that was certainly part of the job. He had little issue in discussing the weather and the sights with a man who committed war crimes over eighty years ago, it was almost par for the course in international functions like this. Teris supposed he was in good company considering recent events.

“Yes, zee Fuehrerin herself hast just returned from zee front as vell,” Max said with a nod as he walked alongside Terris. “I haff had my vork cut out managing all zee media attention of both Canberra und Peking.”

Teris would nod “Yeah, must be hell to sell it back home, I’m just glad most Texans are willing to just look the other way.” he’d muse, the war was not being received well back home, some had strong family ties with members of the resistance as well. “Though I bet the methods the Kaiserin has preferred require additional… massaging of words.”

“Oh on zee contrary,” the Propaganda Minister said with a grin. “The volk haff been quite enthusiastic to see zee downfall of zee Resistance.”

Teris would shrug “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, all about framing after all. The Union is concerned about costs, especially in lives, but enough about the front. How do you figure about this event? Quite a bit of fanfare, good imagery so far to be angling for unity, beyond that stunt with the lightning.” He’d offer genuinely, figuring the propagandist would have a good eye and wouldn’t be so uptight.

The Major looked around the opulent square, at the impressive architecture and the dignitaries.

“It ist quite a spectacle,” he admitted. “A power piece of propaganda, certainly, but the optics are not in question. Vhat ist in question ist vhether or not zee rest of us accept zis little ruse and believe zat the Empress ist all-powerful, und zat zee Yuan Court hast a grip on zee situation.”

Teris pursed his lips slightly at the suggestion “Figure the court’s carrying enough momentum to keep things moving smoothly. I haven’t paid much attention to East Asian affairs, but if the empress is posturing like this, she ought to be ready to take the lead…” he would suggest. “So young, hope the court is still advising her on these maneuvers.” Teris speculated, he figured this show wasn’t the empress’ idea, it seemed far too forceful, but it was possible that there was another new metatyrant on the table.

“Ready to take zee reins, or perhaps masking a defect in zee system,” Max countered, his grin widening as he gestured to the square. “So much money vent into rebuilding zee Imperial City, und vhy do you think zee Yuan Court ist haffing zis conference, Herr Renner?”

“Gotta make a show of it. Inheritance is a messy thing, I half wish we had to bid for positions rather than just passing it on. If I were under the banner of Yuan, I’d be jockeying to seize control from an unproven child, hell I practically did as much when Lady Kelvin died.” He explained. His bid for Great Lordship was a minor note outside of the NAU, as his challenge of inheritance was distinctly American. “The court wants to look strong as the Empress comes of age, don’t want any upstarts taking advantage of the transition.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“Und vhat vould befall East Asia if zee Empress were removed? Herr Hikawa ist on his deathbed, und other forces in East Asia are in a position to challenge zee Yuan Court.”

“Don’t know enough about the contenders, or even the game here. If I had to put money on someone to usurp the empress I’d posit Gao, but that’s just from material and industry, which the crown holds more of. Makes me glad the triplets don’t hold half the US. Idiots went off to Jamaica of all places. Guess it's a similar deal in the Reich? Vik croaks without a kid and then what? Lords scramble or does your party sort it out?” Teris would ask as the pair meander along with the crowd, which was beginning to disperse across the city. The teleporter could see Max’s superior ascending the steps of the forbidden city with the prince-regent.

“Vee have contingencies,” he replied with a nod, noticing Viktoria and Freyja. “Zee Reich survived zee end of Friederich’s reign, afterall. Still, zee situation in East Asia is distinct. Vestern Europe seems to manage, even vithout zee Morigan, but if something vere to happen to zat little girl,” Max said, gesturing towards the Hall of Mental Cultivation, “zhen vhat vould happen to East Asia?” He repeated his earlier question.

Teris shrugged “Civil war? That’s the usual schtick with china right? Or would the Prince-regent inherit the title?” He’d ask, playing dumb. “I can’t imagine anything pretty, but I also can’t imagine this transition will be easy for anyone involved.” Teris would answer, not wanting to be led along by his honeyed words.

The Major turned back towards Terris.

“It ist in zee Reich’s best interest to have a strong leader on zee East Asian throne, of course,” he replied. “But I cannot guarantee vhat vould happen if zee Empress, young as she ist und surrounded by vipers, vere to go missing or, dare I say, perish.”

“Not going to happen, even if it did, there are other heirs, right? More messy, as is any of these family arrangements, but the court’s been managing well enough before her.” Teris would say, not wanting to speak on such a topic while ideas on his own personal objectives. “It doesn’t matter much to the Union ultimately. Trade flows either way, and while we always wish well for our comrades, its hard to have much of a stake in their internal affairs. This is the opportunity to make a good impression on someone who will be at the reins of the great lordship for a very long time.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, noticing the contingent of other delegates, including members of Western Europe, and his own Reich delegation, gathering at various parts of the square. “Now, Herr Teris, it isst here vhere we must part vays. I have much to discuss vith the Reich delegation, und I am sure you haff your own vork to attend to.”

“Right. And Max, I’d appreciate it if you could relay a more personal message to the Gestapo to keep their agents away from my home. Ugly business that’s hardly necessary.” He figured rattling cages would be proper still, but he needed to at least be clear that while the two lords were here as socialites, there was a much more serious game afoot.

“”I’ll see vhat I can do,” he replied jovially, “but some advice, Herr Teris, as zey say in your nation, only a beat dog hollers.” With that, max raised a hand of salute and made his way back towards his own delegation in a leisurely, casual manner.

[Menschenfleisch]

Evelyn S. Retherford, Ryugo and Ryuju Saeki, Kelli Ivananko | A collaboration between Menschenfleisch, Nagakawa and Wysten | Section 2 of 3

28th of April, 7:11am
Harbourside, Bristol, Ireland

Desc: Target is a caucasian male of Italian descent (Vergil Cesarino, M, 24). Resembles a man of 30-35 years of age.

Abilities: No outstanding combat background. Can set a single checkpoint at any time. Upon death, time is reversed to the point when the checkpoint was set. All factors remain equal, excluding the target’s memory: he retains any recollections formed during the now nonexistent period.

Bio: Head of The Scourge, a human trafficking organisation operating out of the Bristol harbour region. Employs numerous descendants of the former military of the now defunct United Kingdom. Staunchly opposes Albionite authority.

Payment: 450,000 USD, 35% upfront. Client identity confidential

“How much are we being paid for this, Ryugo?”

“Mr Higa didn’t say exactly how much the final payment would be.” Huddled in the back of an empty truck, Ryugo - the significantly taller of the two twins - quietly unwrapped his third protein bar. “I’ve not been able to contact him, but it seems that as per our liaison with our new client, we will be getting 25,000 upfront.”

“Only 25,000?” Ryuju rolled his eyes. “Why are we taking this job, again?”

“Because it’s the only good one”, said Ryugo, munching on his snack. “The other option Mr Higa had for us was this other weird guy.”

“How weird are we talking?”

“Literal cannibal weird”, said Ryugo. “I had a conversation with him over the phone. He went into, uh, uncomfortably great detail, so to speak, about how after he finishes beating himself off-”

“Jesus. Yea, you know what? 25,000 doesn’t sound that bad.”

“That guy offered 50,000.”

“25,000 extra isn’t worth having to deal with that kind of guy”, said Ryuju. He fidgeted around in the seat and began winding down the window on his side of the car for fresh air, sticking a finger under his armour to try and aerate his body a little bit. “Anyway, how much longer are we waiting for the other guys?”

“Anytime now, they’ll be here, methinks.” With the bar finished, Ryugo crumpled the wrapper into a tiny ball and stuffed it into a pocket on his shirt.

Standing in an alleyway just down from the compound Kelli peered over at the two in the truck before checking to see if anyone had tailed her the ex-KGB agent walked forward until she reached the trunk of the truck and slammed a hand on the side. Her black-webbing clad figure appearing to be out of place in the otherwise grey environment.

“Someone’s here”, said Ryugo. “Wind the window back up.”

“Fuck, my body’s so itchy”, Ryuju complained, while still winding the window back up nonetheless. “Who is it?”

Ryugo opened the door on the other side of the truck that Kelli had appeared on, sizing her up.

“Who are you?” he asked her, demanding a password from her. “Young... ”

Kelli kept her smile as she lit a cigarette in front of his face, “Love, Gunslinger, what ever the fuck it was. We already stand out like a virgin whore in that campound.” She said as her patch gleamed the yellow and black of the Soldier’s Without Borders banner.

Ryugo chuckled.

“Oi, is that our fella?” Ryuju attempted to open the door on his side of the truck, but finding that it was locked, he scooted his butt along the back seats and clambered out clumsily from the same side from which Ryugo had emerged. “Oh, hello.”

“Kelli, right?”

“Yes,” Kelli said before taking another drag and looking at the twins and squinting, “Lemme guess, Ryugo and Ryuju” She then pointed to the wrong twin with each name.

“Give me the countersign to ‘Young’ that we agreed on, and I’ll tell you if you’re correct”, Ryugo joked. “For all I know, you could be a guy in a mask and a voice changer trying to sabotage our mission.”

“Oi, Ryugo. Don’t we have a H-hour to meet?” Ryuju protested against the small talk, scratching at his heat rash with one hand under his load bearing vest. “Shouldn’t we be getting on with it now?”

“Relax. We’re waiting for the other team to give us the green light.” Leaning against the side of the truck, Ryugo looked up pensively at the night sky. There were surprisingly few stars- deep red clouds obscured most of the night blanket. A sliver of a crescent moon pierced through the darkness.

A voice squirmed into Ryugo’s ear. Something familiar, something a little too recent and sore for comfort. A woman’s voice, all constrained anxiety and anticipation. “We’re ready. Begin on my mark.” Somewhere in the distance, Evelyn looked down at her watch, waiting for a leap forward.

“There we go.” With that, Ryugo snapped his fingers, his face suddenly tensing. “That’s our signal. Get in the driver seat, Ryuju.”

“Arrite.”

Ryuju turned to Kelli.

“Ryugo is the other guy, by the way”, he added, with a mischievous grin, before getting into the driver seat and starting the engine.

“Pleasure to meet you both, and the countersign is Star if that makes you feel any better grunt.” Kelli said putting the cigarette out and hopping into the trunk of the Toyota Hilux.

“Heh.” Now in the back of the truck, with Kelli on the other side of the seat, Ryugo reached under the seat in front of him and produced a semi-automatic assault rifle, loaded with an empty magazine. “How long to the FRV, Ryuju?”

“Ten minutes”, Ryuju replied, stepping on the accelerator. With a laborious churn, the truck began plodding forward. The smell of diesel permeated the inside of the vehicle. “From the FRV to the objective is another ten minutes on foot, based on the route we’ve charted out. It’s difficult terrain for us to go across on foot, even though it’s kinda short, but it also means we won’t likely be running into any of the target’s guys patrolling.”

“What if our route is blocked?” Ryuju inquired, changing the truck’s gears skilfully as it rattled on over the rocky road. “They said that there’s a herd of wild boars passing through the area. No way I’m gonna try driving through one of those.”

“Then we go with Plan B”, said Ryugo, with a sly grin. “That’s what the GPMG in the back is for.”

Kelli looked at it and scoffed before pulling open the small window just large enough for her slide through open, “If we are doing that then we might as well go all out grunts.” She said as if this was just another trip, waiting for the road to smoothen out she slid through the window and onto the truck bed. Quickly as if by muscle memory took off the GPMG off it’s mount and held her hands out. For a few seconds nothing happened then the vague outlines of steel appeared before in an instant. An M134 Minigun appeared on the mount with the belt running around to a large drum now at Kelli’s feet.

“This is what we need,” She said with a smile as she looked back through the open window pentowards the two.

“This lady knows what’s up”, Ryuju chuckled. “Oi, Ryugo. Any info on the boars?”

“Hello, CAILLECH?” Ryugo asked through the comms. “Got a visual, by any chance?”

“Oh shit, I see something.” Squirming up and peeking over the dashboard of the big truck, Ryuju could just about make out what looked like a cloud of smoke being kicked up in the distance.

“Is it the boars?”

The truck made a sharp right turn.

“Road’s blocked, y’all”, said Ryuju. “Looks like we’ll be going with the other plan. The direct approach.”

“The drive by?”

“The drive by.” With his foot still on the accelerator, Ryuju took a pair of gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on deftly, slamming his hands back onto the steering wheel of the truck. “The fun approach.”

“I must admit, I would have preferred the sneaky approach”, said Ryugo.

“Life is too short to pass up an opportunity for some fun.”

Kelli smiled as she pulled out a grey balaclava and quickly slotted it over her face. Taking a moment to adjust it she just smiled and gave a thumbs up to the twins as she set up behind the gun.

“Going by the Plan B route, we bypass the FRV entirely”, Ryuju explained, “which gives us… five minutes to the objective. Get the gun ready, Kelli.”

The streets weren’t exactly in top shape. The car rattled over the cobbles and the people in the street gave them dirty looks as they passed. Automobiles weren’t exactly common - the only people who used cars were the rich and militant. Cesarino’s house loomed out of the smog in no time at all. The space around it had been cleared out by his guards. A few of them milled right outside the front gate, trading cards and bottles of beer.

With a greater amount of driving skill than his mischievous and boyish demeanour would have otherwise suggested, Ryuju deftly swerved the vehicle into a discreet corner of a street where they would remain hidden from view of the guards at Cesarino’s house. It seemed to be a restaurant of sorts, an old and dilapidated establishment that was perhaps already on its last legs, closed for the night and devoid of the usual bustle of the dinner hours.

“Here we are”, said Ryugo. He pulled one of the doors open and pulled his black scarf over his face, up over his mouth and nose and just below his eyes. With a grunt, he hopped a bit, adjusting his ballistic load bearing vest, and looked up at the night sky. “Ryuju, signals check.”

“Signals all clear,'' said Ryuju. “Assault team standardised to Channel 5. Comms with the client will be Channel 6.”

“Ammo check.” Ryugo slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and plucked out the magazine with a swift click, eyeing the rows of bullets through the transparent plastic.

“Ammo check.” Ryuju echoed his brother, getting out of the driver seat and closing the door.

“Alright, fellas.” Ryugo turned to Ryuju and Kelli. “We haven’t got time to dilly dally. On the signal, we’re going straight to the objective, and we open fire straight away.”

Ryuju flicked a finger gun at Ryugo, before getting back in the driver seat barely ten seconds after he had gotten out. He had left the engine running.

“Stand by.” Ryugo turned a small knob on his portable signal set nestled in one of the pouches of his ballistic load bearing vest. “CAILLECH, this is BOAR. We are in position. Over.”

Ryuju, too, turned his signals to the channel on which their client was on. “SERPENT to CAILLECH”, he said, “What he said. Over.”

It took a moment for the reply to come through. The audio quality was abysmal, although that wasn’t due to the connection. Rather there was some… god awful sound on the other side. Trap music? Ryugo swore that it was trap music. “Uh, yes, hello? This is R- I- I mean this is Caillech. sorry.” A muttered ‘watch where you’re going, bitch’ came through from the other end. They heard clinking glass, too, and a woman screaming her lungs out. “Y-yeah, just… start anytime. I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, but, I’m fine with whenever. U- uh, there’s just one thing I’d like to bring up. There’s this woman in there, this- this weird girl called… Evelyn S. Retherford. Yeah you should totally kill her. As in, just absolutely brain her as soon as you see her. D-don’t make it painful though. Yeah. She- she’ll be trying to kill you, if that helps. She’s a… she eats babies.”

Ryuju surreptitiously turned his signal back to the assault team’s private channel.

“Evelyn?” He hissed.

Ryugo placed a finger over his lips.

“Roger”, said Ryugo to the client, still on the main channel. “By the way, this mission wasn’t quite as time sensitive as I thought.”

“I know, right.” Ryuju chuckled in a juvenile fashion.

“Sorry,” the client breathed. “It’s still urgent. But a job well done is better than the product of a scramble, right? Something like that. Just- just please hurry up? My arms are getting tired and someone spilled a- sorry- someone spilled a cocktail on my pants.” Something heavy and soft hit what sounded like a pallet of wood near the receiver. “Oh my god, are you alright? Do you have epilepsy? O-oh, you’re just… okay, have fun with your… sex.” Muffled conversation. “No thank you. But thank you for the offer.” Ryugo swore that the music was coming from two places at once.

“Alright, once Kelli is done getting the big gun set up, we’re moving in.” Ryuju turned back in the driver seat to face Ryugo and cocked his head affirmingly.

Ryugo Saeki sat in the back seat, his back frozen upright and his legs clamped tensely together. Though they had some time to kill before the mission began, he did not appear able to relax or to snooze a bit, sleep deprived as he was.

“Hey, Ryugo.”

“Hm?” Ryugo looked up.

“I say after we’re done with this job, we head back to Okinawa.” Ryuju grinned and drummed his gloved fingers on the steering wheel in front of him. “Get some sun at the beach and all.”

“I don’t know, man.” Ryugo shifted about uneasily in his seat. “I do want to relax a bit, and I do want to go back to Okinawa, but… something’s been bothering me lately, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

Ryuju scowled.

“Mr Higa is getting on in years”, Ryugo continued. “And I don’t think Dad will be able to run the liaison office if Mr Higa does end up having to retire.”

“Why wouldn’t Dad be able to run the office?” Ryuju asked innocently.

“He’s had enough of this life”, said Ryugo. “I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned it before. Dad’s not the kind of person who likes killing people. He’d rather not have to go back into the business.”

“I don’t think you and I enjoy it either”, Ryuju replied, “but we don’t do it for fun. We do it to survive.”

“Still.” Ryugo pulled his black scarf down a little, below his nostrils, to get a bit of fresh air. “I’m okay with having to get my hands dirty, but I can understand why Dad wouldn’t want to do it anymore. And I wouldn’t want to force him back into it either. His conscience is heavy as it is.”

“So you’re saying we need a new liaison clerk, is that right?”

“Well, Mr Higa is turning 87 in July.”

Ryuju took his hands off the wheel and shifted to sit obliquely. There was a little hood ornament dangling from the rear view mirror - a little plush Christmas tree that had become discoloured from decades of sun exposure. Whoever it was the truck had belonged to before Ryugo and Ryuju had commandeered it had clearly racked up quite a fair bit of mileage, despite what the heavily tampered meter on the dashboard read. Whenever Ryuju shifted about in his seat, the little Christmas tree wobbled ever so slightly, as if in response to the driver’s fidgeting.

“We could always talk to Mr Magomedov about it”, Ryuju suggested.

“Say, Ryuju.” Ryugo shifted his grip on the rifle slung round his shoulders.

“What?”

“Do you ever think about what happened to our real parents?”

Ryuju scowled.

“I hate politics”, Ryugo continued, “but I can’t help but wonder what really happened to them. Our powers come from them, after all.”

“You mean Toyokatsu Hikawa and Lei Chen-hsin?”

“Yeah.” Ryugo’s gaze drifted wishfully out of the side window. There was no romantic night sky to look at - the dust clouds had rendered it a dirty reddish colour, and either way, the wall of the building they had hidden the truck behind kept them so well hidden that one could barely see a sliver of night sky from inside the truck. “Someday… I’d like to know more about them. About what happened to them…”

“If you boys are done with your heart to heart, I think it’s about time that we made good on our promise.” Kelli hefted the minigun, its many parts rattling and the belt dragging across the floor of their vehicle. She had a dangerous gleam in her eye, a tightness to her voice. With a pneumatic whir, the barrels began to turn. “Come on. Let’s get some blood on our hands.”

“Boom boom time”, said Ryuju. He stepped on the accelerator pedal and swiftly turned the wheel, and off they went out of their hiding spot. They quickly reached the house, and as Kelli pointed the big gun at the doorway, much to the surprise of the guards who had just noticed the sudden appearance of the truck, Ryugo poked out of one of the windows and fired a shot that clipped one of the guards in the face and sent him sprawling across the floor.

There wasn’t exactly much cover for the others to run for. Knowing this, they mostly threw their rifles to the ground and ran for it. One older bloke though, clearly some ex-military vet working off his gambling debts, reached for his rifle standing against a wall and fired back. The bullet glanced off the bonnet, skidding across the metal and splashing against the glass, leaving fractures across its surface. They heard the rest of the house mobilising, people dropping bottles and scrambling to hazily-remembered positions. “Cocksucker, you don’t know who you’re dealing with!” The man roared in a drunken stammer.

By then, the truck had swiftly swerved up barely a few metres away from the house, and both of the doors on the far end from the house flew open as both Ryugo and Ryuju, armed to the teeth, leapt out and took cover behind the thick, impenetrable wheels of the truck, Ryugo lying prone and Ryuju squatting. While Kelli opened fire with the big gun, rhythmically pulling and releasing the trigger to release bursts of five to six rounds each time, Ryugo and Ryuju both carefully took shots at the men inside, taking care not to waste their ammunition. The pungent and hellish smell of gunsmoke thickened the air, as did the stench of blood from the guards being splattered.

The layout of the garden really worked against the guards. It was all just flat gravel and waist-high hedges, alongside a few circular tables covered in bottles and cards. Half of them didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on. They looked up to the sky, as if expecting someone to leap over the walls or drop on them from above. The few that actually managed to hone in on the attacking forces and stand and deliver had shaky aim at best. They were all dressed in fancy baubles. Gold chains, pearls, flashy suits and the occasional singlet. Was that a man in a furry onesie? A few escorts yelped and made for the other end of the yard, only to be grabbed by the guards and used as body shields as they ran toward the house.

By the time the belt on Kelli’s gun had finished, a good number of the guards had been mowed down. Reduced to piles of offal, canvases of blended pink, orange and red. The garden had decidedly been deprived of zen and half the windows had been blown out. Good - the place was a tacky nightmare of a compound. The fountain still stood, of course; there wasn’t much that bullets could do to a stolen henge, even if much of the historical wear had been chipped off. An anthropologist’s nightmare. There was a conspicuous density of bodies around the rock, mostly rendered from ill-advised attempts to find shelter behind it.

“Not exactly my best work, but I think I have done worse.” The Russian said before quickly raising her PPK at a still moving guard reaching for a rifle just out of reach. In an instant a few more ounces of brain matter were added to the already saturated grounds of the courtyard.

“Regroup”, one of the guard commanders yelled, only to be interrupted by the sudden detonation of a smoke grenade, which filled the surroundings in a cloud of acrid, sickly-sweet white smoke. One of the surviving guards began coughing violently, clutching at his throat and falling to his knees as his body suffered a violent allergic reaction to the smoke.

As they struggled to get their bearings, the crisp popping sound of a gunshot echoed, and the faintest shadow of a dark figure emerged from the smoke. Another of the guards fell to the ground, red foam dribbling from his mouth. The three guards still alive all pointed their guns in the direction of the gunshot; two more gunshots rang out, almost in unison. One guard collapsed in a lifeless heap, while another one roared in pain and fell flat to the ground, clutching his hip. The one remaining guard could only watch as a gloved hand grabbed him by the lapel - he attempted to fire his gun, but suddenly his body pulled forward and his feet swept out from under him, sending him smashing into the ground and knocking him out as his head whipped against the concrete.

“Alright, that seems to be all of them.” Ryugo quietly surveyed the carnage that he, his brother, and Kelli had left.

“Fuck.” With his rifle dangling from its sling, Ryuju scratched at his back. “I should have brought some antiseptic powder. This heat rash is killing me.”

As soon as the group entered the foyer, someone swung a lamp at them from just beside the door. Bits of paper and thin, brittle metal went flying. The sleeve on Ryugo’s arm had been torn, and blood dribbled out of his forearm, which he had used to block the lamp at the very last moment before it could hit his head. Before the man could attack any further, Ryuju had lunged at him, dropping his level and grabbing him behind the knees, before driving him backwards and slamming him into the ground, and then landing a heavy kick to his crotch with the reinforced toe of his combat boot. The man screamed in pain and attempted to rise up, but before he could do so, Ryuju had mounted him, and with one arm coiled round the back of his neck, he slid his hand into the other arm’s sleeve and choked the man to sleep with his forearms, holding the choke for at least ten more seconds than was necessary.

“You reckon that’s enough?” Ryugo asked sardonically.

“Perhaps.” Ryuju released the choke and stood back up. The man’s face had turned a disquieting shade of purple, and his tongue hung limp out of his blue lips.

“Let’s not waste too much time on this overkill”, Ryugo hissed at his brother. “We didn’t come here for you to indulge yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ryuju scoffed. “I was just trying to save you some bullets.”

Ryugo lifted his rifle up and looked at his magazine.

“22 out of 30 rounds left”, he said.

In the same fashion, Ryuju checked his rifle too. “27 out of 30 for me.”

“Alright.” Ryugo pressed the call button on his signal set. “Hello, CAILLECH. This is BOAR. We’ve cleared out the garden and the foyer. We’re moving in now. Over.”

The voice which came back at them was so anxious that he swore that he could almost hear their heart leaping out of their chest. “Don’t- don’t communicate with me during the raid!” In the background, a tremendous clamour and insistent shouting.

With an affirmative nod, as if responding to the mysterious client on the other end of the line, Ryugo switched his signal set back to the private channel.

“Let’s go.”

The foyer was a mess - overturned couches, discarded cigarettes; a painting was missing on the opposite wall, and scraps of painted canvas were clinging to one of the door handles leading out of the room. Though, that was hardly the most important sight. At the opposite end of the room, on a balcony, stood a man with a knee on the banister; he had a uzi in his off hand. He had a wolf mask on which hid everything but his mouth, which was at that moment curled into a smug sort of smile. He tapped something within his pocket. Thereafter, the room went dark and violet lights lit up the ceiling. “Heya, fuckers. Thought there’d be more of you. Welcome to the wolf’s den, awoo!” A dozen more people, all in those same masks, came vaulting over the balcony. One of them broke their leg on impact. The others had a bit more of a graceful landing. They brandished clubs, batons, brass knuckles, and a katana which looked more plastic than metal. One of them had five shirts on, in some parodic attempt at improvising body armour. The apparent leader peppered the ground before the Saeki’s and Kelli with bullets, showering them in finely caulked shrapnel. “Alright pups, let’s show ‘em a good time!“ A wave of Axe body spray and steroid-ridden muscles barrelled down on the group, thundering across the floorboards.

“Jesus Christ- take cover!” The two twins quickly ducked behind the walls of the corridor, as did Kelli. Their armour had saved them from the worst of the shrapnel; Ryuju and Ryugo’s sleeves and trousers had been shredded, however, and an all too familiar burning sensation clawed at their skin. More men were jumping into the room, like it was a scene from a campy zombie flick. Some were… better equipped than others, to say the least of it. No guns though, oddly.

“Full auto?”

“Full auto.”

And with that, the two twins flicked the auto switches on their rifles, quickly peeked round the corners of the corridor, and released a hail of bullets on the men rushing through at them, until their magazines were empty. They quickly plucked the magazines out in perfect, almost rehearsed unison, stashing them back in the empty magazine pouches of their ballistic vests, before reloading their weapons with fresh magazines.

Kelli then moved to in front of the two as they reloaded, AK-12 in hand she kept firing bursts at whichever poor guard decided to take his chance at the two men. The first two to peak around dropped to the ground in heaps of now rapidly cooling corpses as the Russian kept firing.

The wolfman raised a hand to his forehead. “Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful catastrophe!” Strips of skin flew like blizzard snow while flakes of bone skittered all over the floor. A porridge of blood and dark viscera painted the floorboards; the smell of rust almost overtook the insistent, acidic tang of sulphur. There was red on Ryugo’s gums and a pink mist hanging over the field. Some fat fuck managed to take six bullets - six - and keep going, flailing a sock with a dumbbell in the end at Ryuju, who, unwilling to use more ammo so quickly, dived and barely avoided having the dumbbell smash his skull, before grabbing the arm that held the crude makeshift weapon and pulling the person forward to break his balance. As the person teetered to regain his balance, Ryuju’s free hand grasped the man’s shirt on the other side, and he swiftly pulled him over his shoulder and launched him into the ground, with a hideous cracking sound as the man foolishly stuck his arm out in an attempt to try and break the fall.

The charge didn’t break until they were all on the ground, stewing in their own fluids. By the time the rest were done, Wolfman dropped down and blasted the twins with his SMG, bullets pecking the plaster and spraying them with sundered timber as they scrambled to take cover behind the piles of corpses in the corridor. He laughed maniacally, even as he stepped over the bodies of his peers. “You fucking idiots! This is gonna keep happening! It only takes one try, one good loop for us to kill you. Hahaha… dumbasses! The lot of you!”

Without saying a word, Ryugo lifted his rifle and fired a single shot that hit Wolfman in the neck. He jerked like a puppet stretched to its limits, then lost all tension. When the body hit the floor, there was silence at last. The stench of blood and body odour saturated the air, a noxious and nauseating mix that made it almost impossible to even breathe. Gagging, Ryuju turned away from Ryugo and threw up, coughing violently and crouching on the ground, before gathering his wits and taking a swig from his water bottle to wash the vomit out of his mouth. Both the twins were drenched in blood and gore.

“Need a breath mint?” Ryugo reached into his pocket and tossed Ryuju a little green packet.

“Yea, thanks. God, the smell is bloody awful.”

The next room was an arcade of some sort. Billiard tables, arcade machines, consoles, televisions - all pushed to the sides of the room. Some unarmed waiters and escorts saw the trio come in and rushed for other exits. As soon as the group of civilians parted, Kelli and the Saeki’s were left facing another trio. A young man in a bathrobe, an older gentleman with a rifle across his back and a kevlar plate carrier clutching his sides, and an orange-haired woman in a business suit, armed to the teeth.

Evelyn raised her rifle to the twins, arms snapping into place. “Oh shit, oh shit-” the man in the bathrobe squealed. That was Vergil Cesarino, no doubt about it. The older man was his head of security, Santiago Drake. “Get behind me sir,” the woman murmured, placing Cesarino in cover. He nodded aggressively, acting like some obedient puppy.

Ryugo pulled down the bloodstained scarf from his face, letting it dangle round his neck.

“Sorry about the smell”, he said caustically. “We haven’t had time to shower.”

And with that, Ryugo reached for his sidearm - a small pistol - and fired a single decisive round at Cesarino’s face as quickly as he had drawn it.

Santiago caught the round in the palm of his hand. His whole body shimmered. He pulled back as if to deliver a punch from twenty feet away, but Evelyn stilled his motions. She locked eyes with the twins. “Remember,” she whispered. “Death is no object.”

Death is no- Wait a minute.

And then Cesarino flicked his wrist at the group. A blast of air blew away the furnishings, ripping up the carpet and literally causing the entire room to swell. The ceiling broke into the storey above theirs as the overpressure reached cyclonic levels. Blood shot from the Saeki’s ears; Ryuju fell to his knees, clutching his ears and screaming in agony, while Ryugo merely grimaced and raised a finger to his jaw, though his eyes betrayed the immense pain he was in. In the next moment, Evelyn had taken cover, disappearing behind an overturned table. Santiago raised himself into the air, a pocket of wind swirling around him. “Stay back sir,” he said with impossible volume. “I’ll deal with this.”

“You’d better!” Cesarino screamed. “You’d fucking better. That carpet cost a fortune!”

Kelli felt her entire body scream in pain as she stumbled onto her feet. Using her rifle as a crutch she quickly moved into cover. “Fucking Prima Donnas,” She muttered as she saw the two figures begin to face the team.

“Motherfucker!”

From the ground, even with his whole body trembling in pain, Ryuju pulled one of his gloves off, tossing it aside and gripping the carpet, under which stood all three of the people in the room. A burst of faint but easily visible blue light coursed downwards through the veins on his bloody and lacerated bare arm, and a blast of icicles exploded from the carpet, throwing Cesarino and Evelyn into the walls and shredding through Santiago’s legs and groin, impaling him on the spot. His clothes ripped and his watch shattered. The head of security should’ve been reduced to gibbets. Instead, the bubble of air around his body kept everything above his hips safe. Not that it was much of a mercy. His guts fell out through the bottom of his torso and he fell out of the sky, wordlessly murmuring in his last moments. Cesarino’s eyes widened. He held onto Evelyn for dear life.

As Ryuju struggled to stand up and recover from the explosive pressure that had imploded his eardrums, Ryugo stood back up straight and pointed his pistol vaguely in the direction of Evelyn and Cesarino. Though thick and gooey blood dribbled from his ears, it seemed that he had somehow already recovered from the blast of pressure that had exploded his eardrums. Almost as if his ears had regenerated.

“Get ‘em,” Cesarino hissed. “Go get the fuckers. Do it!” She kept a neutral expression and sucked in air through her mouth, before firing a bullet directly upwards. She re-manifested near the ceiling. Before she could fall and shatter her legs, she fired a bullet near Ryugo’s feet. She appeared beside him, drew her pistol, and double-tapped him in between the ribs. She knee’d him to make him go down. It was all a ridiculously rapid sequence of events, and the most Ryugo could do was to attempt a headlock, as his vision suddenly blurred and he fell to the ground, his bloodied arm slipping off of Evelyn’s neck.

Barely had Ryugo hit the floor when Ryuju staggered to his feet, clutching his rifle and pointing it at Cesarino.

Evelyn saw his movement and leapt before the bullet’s trajectory. She fired at him right before leaping. The round went wild, skimming his bicep. At exactly the same moment, Ryuju squeezed the trigger on his rifle, which was still set to full auto from earlier- a volley of 5.56mm rounds tore through the air and shredded through both Evelyn and Cesarino, going out through Cesarino’s back and glancing off of the walls. The room, already bloody, now bore the horrid stench of gunsmoke mixed with the unmistakable metallic smell of freshly drawn blood, as Evelyn and Cesarino both fell to the ground together, Evelyn’s limp body landing on top of Cesarino’s, their faces both mangled into ribbons.

“E-velyn?”

Ryuju’s vision turned blurry. His damaged ears continued to ring unbearably, as he stood over the two bodies and then turned round and gazed upon the body of his brother and the splattered corpse of Santiago impaled on a stalagmite of ice. A pulsating headache coursed through his temples, and as he staggered over to his brother’s body, Ryuju collapsed to his knees over Ryugo’s lifeless form, using every last bit of energy he had left to cradle his brother’s head in his arms.

“Ryu… go…”

Cesarino’s corpse warped. The world fell away, colours becoming blacks becoming incandescent nothings. A cold, bloody hand gripped the ink ribbon of time’s typewriter… and began to pull it back.

---

Cesarino clutched his throat and gagged, retching and vomiting all over his expensive mahogany desk. Evelyn paused in the doorway to his office, a bottle of wine in one hand and two dancers standing behind her. Her watch was beeping; she deftly turned it off. “Fuck… fuck!” The man slammed his table over and over. “Get out!” He screamed at the women at his sides. Diligently, they stepped out, smiles cracking for just a second. “Santiago you fucking whore!” Cesarino growled into his phone. “How could you be so useless? You cocksucker, do your job and get in here!” Evelyn put a hand to her earpiece, broadcasting both to Santiago and to the raid team. “You should move. Now. The situation is time sensitive.” A moment later, Santiago burst into the office. The air around him shimmered, and his shoulder glanced against Evelyn’s. She bounced off of him, like he was made of rubber. “Vergil, what’s the problem?”

Cesarino took a moment to straighten himself out, coughing into a handkerchief and checking his face in the mirror, almost disbelieving of the fact that there wasn’t a hole through its core. “I was just killed, you stupid cunt. Two men and one bitch, they’re about to arrive. Tell the men to prepare for the attack.” Santiago checked his watch. There was a bubble above the clock face - most of the fluid within, which allowed it to persist from loop to loop, had leaked out. He unwrapped it from around his wrist and tossed it onto Cesarino’s desk. “My watch must have been broken during the last loop. Mr. Cesarino’s CSF is exempt from his ability,” he explained for Evelyn’s sake.

Cesarino poured himself a shot of whiskey. It came in an ornate bottle encrusted with gems, probably more expensive than the fluid it was designed to contain. “They’re gonna come in from the main gate. Two icy guys, I don’t know what the girl’s deal is. Don't let them sucker punch you this time. Bitch right here-” he pointed at Evelyn “-killed one and would’ve killed another if he hadn’t shot me first. She’s been on staff for two minutes and she’s already doing a better job than you.” The man rubbed his temples, letting the taste of liquor linger in his mouth. “I want… I want everyone to enter the courtyard.”

“Vergil,” Santiago interjected, “It’d be more appropriate for you to move offsite, most likely to one of the safe houses.” Cesarino slammed his fist on the table, causing his whisky bottle to spill across the lacquer. “I know what I’m doing, dammit! Get everyone out there. You two too!” Evelyn tipped her head toward her employer. “Yes, sir.”

The house guard, alongside Santiago and Evelyn, gathered in the garden. She and Santiago took up positions nearer to the house, hiding behind the pillars holding up its awning. Cesarino surveyed the field from the doorway, swirling alcohol in a glass while a young woman leaned on his shoulder. The guards were restless, unhappy at having been called away from their leisure, ill-equipped; most were drunk, half didn’t have guns and none of them had the requisite training to know how to hold their ground. Both Evelyn and her superior knew that unless the battle was in their immediate favour, Cesarino’s men would rout. Therefore, the plan was to pounce on the assault team as soon as they arrived. They were to participate in a single, overwhelming human wave. Being near the front was important then, as they were the only disciplined members of the security team. They had to lead by example, even if Evelyn would have vastly preferred to have taken up a position on top of the building so that she could snipe the incoming attack.

Kelli sat a couple hundred yards away with a black cardboard box in her hands. With a cigarette in her mouth she quickly dropped to her knees and opened the box up. Inside was a small commercial drone that she had bought from some store in Albion. Quickly taking it out and setting it up she fiddled around with the controls until the drone finally spun it’s four rotors and shot off into the sky. Quickly checking the screen that matched with the camera mounted on the underside the drone moved forward until she could finally see the compound. Putting it into hover she zoomed and gave a smile.

Holding out her hands the Russian summoned a small 2B14 infantry mortar and a box of five shells appeared next to her. Looking over them Kelli kept her smile as she put out her cigarette, the yellow shell heads denoting them as White Phosphorus. Looking back at the drone and quickly doing some calculations she shifted the mortar into position and used the small wheel to correctly estimate the amount of mils she needed. Taking one of the shells she pulled the pin at the bottom arming it and quickly set it to airburst just 10 meters over the courtyard. Doing this with each shell the Russian quickly took the canteen of water she had and spread it the mortar post.

Finally she gave a deep breath as she held the shell over the barrel and dropped it. For a moment everything was quiet before a resounding thunk was heard, sending the shell towards the courtyard.

The projectile followed a parabolic trajectory over the yard, detonating high above the assembled guards’ heads. Burning, smoking streaks fell from the sky, arcing toward them. None of the regular guards recognised the telltale sound and texture of a white phosphorus airburst. Santiago, as ex-military, immediately comprehended the threat. “Get inside!” He barked into his radio, but the men in the courtyard either didn’t care or didn’t realise how urgent the situation was. Pellets of burning metal and powder struck the ground, splitting and spraying an incendiary mixture in all directions. Like bags of flour bursting open; the gas scorched their eyes and mouths, travelling down their lungs as they breathed in the suffocating smoke. There was a second of incredible clamour, as they all began to scream. A moment later, they all went utterly silent save for intermittent gurgles as they drowned in blood and mucous and their lungs blackened and scorched. Just like that, the entire compound’s security complement was neutralised. Bodies, aflame, hit the earth. Within seconds, they ceased to be recognisable as human.

Santiago formed a bubble of air around himself and Evelyn, repelling the deadly smoke. It wasn’t large enough to save anyone else. He didn’t see the value in preserving the lives of fearful, unskilled groupies. He gripped his radio, transmitting directly to Cesarino. They couldn’t see him from where they were, but they could at least assume that he was panicking. The boy needed direction, else he’d just be paralyzed by fear. “Head to the garage, it’s the only other way out.” Cesarino tapped Evelyn on the shoulder and they sprinted across the length of the house, avoiding apertures and open rooms. Most of the staff had clustered around the windows to watch the battle; those who hadn’t been swept up in the attack flushed the house, cramming the hallways as they searched for solace. Santiago physically pushed them aside with gusts of air.

Santiago spent the entire journey keeping in touch with his charge, giving Cesarino directions and ensuring that he remained on the move. They eventually met up in the garage, a concrete hangar near the back of the compound. The metal skeletons of cars were strung up by wires and shelves of gasoline and tools were propped up against walls. Disassembled engines and assemblies littered the ground, the detritus of various aborted automobile projects. A number of intact cars and motorbikes lay in varying levels of disrepair around the room. “Shit. Where are the engineers?!” Cesarino ran forward and kicked a piece of metal across the room. “Fuck! Cowards! Alright alright alright, we can still- we can still pull this back.”

Evelyn clicked her tongue. “Sir. If the engineers fled, why didn’t they commandeer any of the vehicles? As far as I can tell, they’re all still here.” Santiago knelt by a motorcycle and tried to start the engine. It made a horrific choking noise and belched black smoke. There was a loud crunch, and then shards of smouldering metal fell out from within its chassis. “The engines are dead. We need to leave on foot.” Cesarino balked. “Are you kidding? We need a car!” The head of security matched his client’s hysteria with level, calm speech. “No. It’s obvious that these vehicles have been sabotaged. This attack has likely been a long time in the making.” He blasted open the garage’s shutter doors with a gust of wind, flaying the steel with his control of air. “Let’s go. We can lose them in the crowd.”

Kelli was standing a block away from the garage, for the past few minutes the ex-KGB operative stood and gave a yawn before finally she heard the bending and shredding of metal as the garage door opened. Raising her AK-12 she recognized the three as her targets and aimed at the larger man at the head trying to lead the young woman and bathrobe-covered man. She quickly squeezed two bursts at the head of security.

The bullets froze just above Santiago’s skin. There was a translucent aura about him, like a mirage in the desert. It was a bubble of air, a layer of protection which he’d been keeping up since the gas attack. The projectiles’ impact was still conferred to him via his armour, albeit over a larger area; he stumbled and let loose a poorly aimed counterattack. A jet of super compressed air, like a laser, ripped through the timber near to where Kelli was standing. Without skipping a beat, Evelyn grabbed Cesarino and pulled him behind a nearby concrete road barrier, left over after the revolutionary war. She aimed at Kelli’s position, tracing the woman’s outline… and didn’t find a shot that she was willing to take. She ducked back down, holding Cesarino’s shoulder to keep him still.

“Fucking shit,” Was Kelli’s response as she ducked back into cover. “One of these fucking days I am going to get a job that doesn’t involve this bullshit.” She muttered to herself as she slowly opened the door into the empty pub that she was using as cover. Trying not to stand in front of the many windows the Russian glanced over at Santiago again as a glint came to her eyes. Remembering how he stumbled after getting hit, Kelli held out her hand and a small GP-25 grenade launcher spawned in her hands. Usually meant to be underslung, her rifle Kelli quickly loaded a single, 40mm, high explosive shell. Kelli got as close to the window as possible, looked over one last time, pulled herself over and fired the grenade right at Santiago.

The explosion appeared at first to freeze around him as he elevated the viscosity of the air, hoping to arrest the blast. He was a little too late on the ball in that regard: rather than turning certain death into non-injury, it just turned the grenade’s impact into a collision which more closely resembled being rammed by a truck in profile and effect. Blood trailed from his mouth as he sailed across the street, the edges of his coat singed. The explosion expanded in slow motion near to where it’d hit him, smoking shrapnel curling through air as thick as half-set cement. To his credit, the man recovered quickly, willing himself back onto his own two legs and letting loose a concussive shockwave at the building. The windows blew out and the weak timber caved, the floors falling out from under Kelli’s feet.

Evelyn took the opportunity to grab Cesarino and pull him to harder cover, behind an adjoining wall. He shouted in protest, fear of being shot completely overwhelming him, but her guidance was not to be denied. Meanwhile, Santiago loomed over the half-collapsed building, its facade looking like it had melted. Fierce winds swirled around him, kicking the rubble in the street into a whirling dervish.

Quickly diving out from the window before being crushed in the floors below Kelli landed with a *thud* onto the ground below. Exclaiming in pain the Russian looked up at Santiago before she drew her pistol and fired at the meta.

Again, Santiago’s armour caught the projectile. Although this time, it left an angry welt on his cheek, not all of its energy being mitigated in time. He drew his own pistol and fired back one-handed, the rounds plinking off of the asphalt. He’d lost his composure, clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Evelyn recognised the look in his eyes; he was running on autopilot while his conscious mind tried to deal with the immense pain that he was in. Their situation was clearly a deteriorating one, and she could only assume that the other members of the attacking party were going to arrive at their position soon. She couldn’t move though; there wasn’t any cover near to her position and if they tried to make a run for it, Kelli would certainly try to kill Cesarino mid-stride. She knelt down and monitored the battlefield, staring down the length of her optic and waiting for an opportunity to eliminate the threat.

Kelli spat and kept firing as she moved steadily closer before giving a loud, “Fuck this!” and summoning an RPK. Pulling the receiver back the Russian held down the trigger as all one hundred rounds were sent towards Santiago.

He spun to one side in an attempt to avoid the barrage. Nonetheless, the volley was too much for him to avoid. It sheared off the flesh on one side of his body, cracking open his chest and perforating his body. His smoking cadaver hit the concrete and his armour dispersed, producing a low and quiet boom. In the next moment, a bullet struck the side of Kelli’s head. It came at an exotic angle, scraping off the lens of her left eye and shattering against the bone of the socket, avulsing a portion of her skull without touching her brain or any major blood vessels. It was a painful, debilitating injury - but not particularly lethal. Evelyn exhaled, lowering her rifle.

Kelli dropped to the ground holding her eye, “God fucking dammit!” She yelled in Russian as she held her eye. Slowly reloading her pistol her vision blurred as blood covered her left eye. Seeing where the two sat she saw Evelyn with the rifle and quickly squeezed off three shots in her direction. “Did no one teach you to aim for centre mass you fucking dumbass!” She taunted as Kelli walked forward.

A bullet passed over Evelyn’s knuckles, pulling up the skin and exposing the muscle underneath. She could see her tendons and ligatures moving beneath a membrane of pink tissue. The pain caused her grip to loosen and her fingers to shudder; there was no way that she could properly aim her rifle anymore. She drew her pistol, then, and rose out of cover. Kelli’s reactions were sharp, but Evelyn’s were preternaturally quick. She immediately shot the woman - who would’ve won any fair shootout - in the chest, simultaneously flinching to one side to avoid any counterattack. Kelli felt the bullet pass but her body did not, her entire body was screaming to collapse and rest in order to at least attempt to stay alive as she kept walking forward. Kelli still kept her pistol up and seeing the reaction speed instead decided to overwhelm them. Pulling the pistol close she stuck her finger and fanned the trigger. Sending what remained of her magazine towards Evelyn.

The woman tried ducking and covering her head with her hands. The bullets just continued to pepper her position, tearing her coat and showering her in rocky debris. She placed herself on top of Cesarino, sheltering him. When the barrage ended, Kelli was left standing with very much the same expression that Santiago had hosted right before he’d died. Cesarino took his hands off of his ringing ears. He peeked out from behind his cover, observing a dazed and unresponsive Kelli. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Holy shit!” He ran out from behind his hiding place and bowled the Russian over with a haymaker. “Hahaha! You fucking dumb bitch! This is what you get when you mess with Vergil motherfucking Cesarino! Yes!!” He was in absolute hysterics. He looked back toward Evelyn, who stepped toward him slowly and unsteadily. “C’mon, finish the bitch off! Gawd, what a show!” His bodyguard grasped her torso. Blood poured from her abdomen. Kelli’s burst of three had hit her in a vital spot, it’d just taken a while for the effects to kick in. There was a bullet in her chest and fluid in her lungs. Pneumothorax. “I’ll be fine, sir.” She gurgled quietly, coughing up a thin red goo. It sank into the gutter, seeping between the contoured gravel.

Kelli was unresponsive as the fists landed, her one working eye just gazed ahead as she loaded one more magazine while Cesarino was wailing on her. When Evelyn stood and walked over Kelli merely shoved the young man aside and shot Evelyn four more times in the chest.

Evelyn’s abdomen came apart. Her guts expanded like a crumpled shirt being unfurled, spilling onto the tarmac. The gun spun out of her hands, only half-raised in Kelli’s direction. Reaction times were moot when one party had already trained their weapon on the other. Cesarino yelped and spun around to face Kelli, blanching in his terror.

Kelli just picked up the RPK only a few feet away and with one last bout of strength she slammed the machine gun into Cesarino’s torso. When he crumpled to the ground Kelli just took the stock of the gun and kept slamming it into Cesarino’s head.

He raised his arms to defend himself, blurting out words of apology, then demands for mercy, then jambled insults. He stopped speaking after she knocked out all his teeth, and stopped making noise altogether when she started caving in his gums and snapped his lower jaw down the middle. He thrashed weakly, trying to knock her off of him. For a twenty five year old man with no outstanding injuries, though, he was shockingly weak. Handling him was as easy as taking candy from a paraplegic comatose armless legless boneless prematurely born baby. Along the way he wet himself, soiled himself, and wet himself a second time in a frankly superhuman exertion of his bladder muscles. The smell of hot piss and the fact that she was standing on top of him almost got Kelli to leave. Almost.

One last thwack was all it took. His head popped and his skull flew apart at the seams, spurting clumps of brain matter and hair across the ground.

Kelli stumbled back as reality began to come back as she collapsed. Dragging herself away from the corpse she leaned against the concrete as she quickly took out her phone as a pool of blood filled around her.
“Yes?” The cold voice of Nancy Wake sounded throughout Kelli’s ears.
“Alexi and Dina Ivananko,” Kelli said as the phone began to slip
“Yes Kelli, thank you and put in a good word to Saint Peter for me.” Nancy said before hanging up. The mercenary leaned back and closed her eyes as the world went black and then silent.

---

Cesarino spent the next loop crying in his office, right up until the moment that Kelli burst through his door and spread his brains across the back wall.

From there the loops got increasingly demanding. Every time, Cesarino thought that he’d be able to see his enemies coming, and tried to leverage his knowledge of the future against them. Every time, the plan of attack changed. An assault from the front, a gas attack, simply bombing the entire building, a multi-pronged incursion, crashing through the front of the building with a car laden with explosives; never once did he gain the upper hand. After the twenty second loop, by which point his insides had begun to feel like jelly and the memory of dying so many times turned him pale, he decided to stop trying to hold the house and started trying to run, which was what Santiago had wanted him to do from the beginning. It was still an impossible task. If he tried to leave via the front gate, his enemies always ran him over in the street or caught him up in a bombing run. Leaving via the garage wasn’t possible either. He found that at some point before his last save point, someone had sabotaged all the engines, filling them with sand and removing important retaining bolts. Leaving on foot would just get him killed, and trying to vault over the walls of his compound would lead to almost instant death, as a bullet always managed to squirrel its way into his heart. There was a sniper somewhere in the compound’s vicinity, picking him off with pinpoint accuracy whenever he attempted to make a break for it.

His bodyguards ultimately made a valiant effort to defend him. He found himself liking Evelyn more and more across the loops, as she consistently got more done than Santiago and died later than him. Even so, they couldn’t ever prevent Cesarino from dying, whether he perished in a suicide attack or was shot from halfway across the building. Eventually, he concluded that he couldn’t possibly beat the invading force, nor could he leave the house on foot. The area immediately surrounding the compound was devoid of obstructions and foot traffic, as was the policy enforced by his own security team. Evelyn suggested that they repair the motorcycles and use those to evacuate, pointing out that it was unlikely that the sniper would be able to kill such a mobile target. It was an almost impossible demand. The motorbikes’ engines had been thoroughly trashed, so clogged with grit and so subtly sabotaged that it was impossible to refurbish them completely within the ten minutes that he had on average per loop. Being able to retain knowledge across resets allowed him to memorise their issues, however, as well as identify any missing parts in advance.

It took a while but eventually, they managed to jury-rig two of them into working. And with that, the assault was seemingly defeated. They sped out into the streets of Bristol, leaving dust and gunfire in their wake. Cesarino breathed a sigh of relief, even while his abdominal muscles quivered and phantom pains wracked his frame. It was over.

[Europa Undivided]

Kondrad Sierakowsky
Polish ASSR Military Forward Headquarters
North of Canberra

Polish ASSR Headquarters, North of Canberra, 1525 20 May 2020

“Ja, I think she vould very much enjoy zat,” Antoinette agreed, her gloved hand returning to her side before she gave the Polish lord a bow.

“If zat is all, Herr Kondrad, I know you are a busy man, und much is required of you. I shall inform zee Führerin personally,” she told him before turning towards the exit and making her way out.

"Am I now...", Kondrad mused to himself, watching Antoinette exited through the door of his office. An audible thud was heard as the door automatically closed in the wake of her short yet meaningful visit, and it wouldn't be long before the scarlet visored soldiers saw her out of the compound.

Now, for the attack. It didn't take long for another set of news to arrive to his doorstep, as the computer screen in front of him glimmered to life, showing one of the officers in charge of communications with other dynastic forces.

"Lord Sierakowsky.", the officer began, a frown nearly visible on his face. "The Reich has run into a problem in Royalla. They are requesting for other Dynastic forces to attack in order to relieve pressure on their front."

Kondrad nodded, mentally noting how the Reich had requested for closer relations literal a few moments ago. This must be a happy coincidence, then, that the South Americans have been stopped at their tracks by the Resistance. Even unto this hour, they fight the inevitable, like the Germans defending Berlin in 1945.

"Relay this message to our commanders on the field.", Kondrad ordered. "I trust their judgement will be sufficient without my direct oversight..."

---

"Intensified artillery strikes must be delivered to the enemy frontline as soon as possible. Then the Sixth will be able to advance deeper into enemy territory. I trust that the other Dynastic forces will be doing their advances as well. They know well that this city has to fall this day. Understood?"

Lieutenant Colonel Matras, a living, mundane human, fell silent to a deafening roar of static for a moment before responding. "Acknowledged, General Marek. Artillery strikes and rocket barrages will soon be inbound to the enemies in your front, over."

General Marek was, in turn, one of the Ghostknights. He had been elevated to command over the Sixth Army, and he did just that from atop one of the ruined buildings that towered over the Canberran urban sprawl. He truly liked his heights.

A roaring cavalcade of munitions erupted from the backline, a line of BM-21 Grad rocket launchers unleashing several waves of rockets towards the Resistance trenches. Some of these rockets would be loaded with high explosive fragmentation, others with cluster munitions. The explosive artillery strike ended as swiftly as it began, but it would be due to fire again, this time from a different angle, as the self propelled artillery pieces would be swift to relocate from their previous positions to avoid being struck by counter battery fire.

In the immediate wake of the barrage, smoke grenades would be launched by the Polish forces to further cover their advance. Some travelled through the buildings themselves, where fighting would be sure to devolve into brutal urban combat should enemy troops be encountered in those tight spaces. The rest advanced on the streets themselves. Armored personnel carriers provided direct cover for the infantry, while Ghostknights and tanks would fire upon the trenchlines with high explosive rounds, aiming to destroy the cover behind which the Resistance troops were hiding. However, once the Null Fields were detected, the Ghostknights and Wraithtanks hung back to provide suppressive and covering fire as their more mundane counterparts pressed on, as they were unhindered by the anti-meta fields.

Hopefully, they won't be alone in this advance.

---

Agustin Gamarra
Royalla

The fighting intensified, devolving to a hybrid form of trench warfare, compounded by what appeared to be unconfirmed metahuman forces on the Resistance. For now, the Reichswehr and Waffen-SS assault halted, as the South American forces dug in to defend what little ground they gained, relying now on their artillery to soften the enemy before resuming the attack.

This was a respite, at least. The gunfire and explosions continued, but the counterattack from the Resistance had slowed down the Reich's assault, bringing it to a standstill. Exactly what Agustin needed at this very moment.

"Come on, get in.", Agustin motioned to medics carrying stretchers bearing the wounded and dying as he opened a portal leading to the infirmary near the center of the city. "Today is not the day to die..."

An artillery strike interrupted his train of words as everyone nearby ducked. Dust and debris washed over them, while in the distance further up the trenchline, he could see pieces of people getting thrown several meters up into the air by the intense explosions. Another drove of souls lost to the senseless destruction of this war. Hopefully they didn't feel the pain and died quickly.

Hopefully.

"Hey.", one of the nearby troopers called out to him. "You... why are you with us and not with them? You're a meta. You could have gotten the best life if you were just with them."

Agustin sat down, if only for a moment, in that increasingly dusty and filthy trench. "Thing is, I was actually one of them, long ago. But... my family were evil tyrants, and I wasn't. They reviled me for not being monsters like them. Now they're dead."

The soldier blinked, thinking of just how they died.

"I just think... we should defend the powerless, fight for those who cannot. That is what I believe. But... this war is clearly not in our favour."

"You bet?", the soldier laughed as another artillery strike rumbled somewhere else. More have died, then.

"Remember to surrender only either to the Russians or the Americans. Never trust the French.", Agustin told not just him, but to everyone else in earshot. "But for now, we fight. If not to win, then to show that the ideals we stand for are not dead."

[Arlye Austros]

Lt. Adam Dale. Brisbane 2nd Mechanized Infantry.

Through the coming weeks, the Goldcoasters had regrouped on their retreat north. Adam was able to maintain command, at least. Their numbers swelled from the remaining hundred and something to a total of three hundred and ninety-seven between Goldcoasters and other fleeing groups getting out of Buller. Adam reckoned they could be more, but many of the fleeing warriors were outsiders, and knew better to stay away. Some could handle being part a nationalist group, some couldn’t. Adam wouldn’t care.
Their ideals would be discussed every now and then, on the road, or on the night camps. Most of the time it lead to nothing. They rolled northwest. Away from the tide. To safety. Hell, that was the smart shit to do.

But then the ideals did get in his way. It was Adam who had to face it. A woman challenged him one night. She was roughly his age. But she was… Ukrainian? Maybe Serbian? Should he even care? She had an accent, but she also had lived in Australia long enough to make herself understood.
“You people do have a plan, right? I don’t think that you, out of all of us, are just going to run away.”
“What do you mean?” They were sitting around a burning barrel. The caravan had camped in the edges of the Outback itself, and prepared to sneak into the desert and vanish.
“I heard what happened in Buller. That you were going to take your country back and do some nasty pojebén.” She started, looking around to read the room before carrying on. “And then you were kicked out or something. Kúrba!”

Adam’s eyes stared at her while he chewed his tongue invertedly. She had a small booklet in her hand that Adam hadn’t seen, and tossed it into the barrel. The golden-stamped letters on the front withered and shriveled under the flames.
“Your point?” He enquired, looking at the woman.
“My point should be obvious. You people are leaving your country to them.”
Faces turned from other groups and other fires. The eyes shone like pairs of vague stars, and all looked at Adam.

“You people.” He repeated in a tone filled with disbelief. “We are th-”
“The rightful Australians. Yes. I’ve been hearing that for years now.” The woman interrupted. Adam didn’t really want to complete the sentence. He wasn’t even Australia, but was sympathetic to them. “Rightful Australians have called us <<You people>> for a long time, and always told us how we should turn and fight in our soil, not wait out on theirs. Well… I think it’s good to see you all going through the same. Falling back and not defending your capital.”

Adam was silent, hearing these words, palping the insolence and wondering what he should do. He looked around.
“That’s how it is? You think we should go back and fight at Canberra?” His voice had no reply. The stars just shone in silence. “It’s pointless…”
“It was for us.” She said. “And yet you called us cowards. What now?”

Eyes turned away, and heads looked down as Adam contemplated this insult. Should he go back? He had been aware of Harman’s plot. A sense of guilt began forming in him. The woman gave him a somewhat wicked smile.
“Gassing families seems to be more on your line of work.”

His eyes jumped from her face to her jacked, he frantically looked for a badge or an ID. None. She couldn’t know of the plot. Not to that extent. His eyes traversed her body, and he distinguished a movement behind the flames. He also felt something wasn’t right. A sense of urgency had been sparked in his head, and he couldn’t shake it off as the talk progressed. Now he saw the source.

He stepped towards the barrel, pushing it aside and spreading the flames around them. His clothes began catching fire, but the most was on his sleeve, as his hand moved forward in a sudden move. The woman had a gun and was ready to shoot at him. He didn’t give her the choice. His hand grasped her neck and the skin under his palm soon began boiling and cracking under the heat.
She made a faint squeal, as her handgun fired off into the night. Unable to aim, she waved her arms and slowly began to die.

When the body collapsed the people around were aiming at Adam with their weapons. He looked back at them and asked them a question.


Tharwa, Rob Roy Range. Southwest from Royalla.
Canberra’s Husk.

It had been a nice place to set a base of operations. Adam giggled when he arrived at the group of buildings that Command had given him and his small band, the remnants of the 2nd Mechanized Brisbane and others. The place had been an old workshop and looked like a forge. There were butane canisters still filled, several forging tools and some leftover works stashed on a corner. He wondered if, in another life, he could have forged metal with his bare hands. It could have been fun.

But alas! Adam was not here for crafting. He had a group of about a hundred people, and twenty more from Albury had been placed under his command. The Governors Board had restored him as Lieutenant, this time of the Melbourne Militia, and his task was simple: aid Royalla.

He had watched from a distance the smoke and the activity rising in the air to the east above the hills of the Rob Roys. And he monitored the situation through the morning. When the attack was declared, he kept a close contact with Command, and finally, following a renewed artillery attack by the South American Germans, he was called in to the action.
In minutes his troops had jumped on the armored vehicles and sped up the roads towards the hills. Gunmen kept a close watch on the air, making sure no hostiles got close. Nothing threatened them until they got to the treelines halfway to the top of the hills, having to get off the dying road and into the bumpy meadows.

“Enemy fire! It came from the hilltop, missed badly.” The radio reported. Adam replied.
“Keep a close eye and your heads down. I want those early warning up for any missiles they give us!”

Then his HUD display flashed a message. <<Criokinetic Reported ahead.>>
The location of the report flashed over the hilltop, and distanced it about a mile from Adam, and getting closer as the vehicles rolled. More shots bounced on the armor.
“Altight, guys. We got a meta up there. Avoid engagement unless you got a plan. I will deal with it if necessary. Let’s put pressure on their side ASAP.”

The armored vehicles were at about a thousand meters from combat, and a group deployed. Men stepped out and scattered behind fallen trees and rocks, aiming at the hill and looking for exposed targets with their scopes. The rest of the vehicles kept clombing through the meadow and then again into the cover of trees.
Six-hundred meters.
“Time to get off. The enemy is right ahead!”

They stepped down and moved around to find cover, opening fire in the direction of the NAU troops led by the now identified Amelia Kelvin.

Royalla.

Although at first the defenders were feeling like they scored a victory by halting the enemy advance, they soon had to face a renewed punishment by the southern artillery. The lines on the forest had to re-articulate after each barrage, covering the damaged flanks and making for each loss. They realized their position would soon become untenable.
Back at the Power Station, mortar fire was used in retaliation, trying to hit the entrenched positions of the South Americans at the Royalla Suburb. Informed of this move, the remaining pockets of infantry in the abandoned houses that had targeted the South American and German vehicles attempted a breakthrough, moving under whatever cover they could towards the forest.

Up in the air, the Albury Squadron turned to face the incoming airships, soon engaging into a desperate dogfight with the air escort and trying to stay away from the missile fire. In a matter of minutes the Squadron pulled back, accounting a 40% of the losses and heading into the relative safety of the Canberran Air Defense.

Murrumbateman, North of Canberra.

For the scattered and overextended defense garrison in Murrumbateman, this was simply a call to fall back. Both strongpoints in the northern edge of the town responded fire with a set of chain guns against the presumed location of the enemy infantry, covered by a smokescreen. In the meantime, the under two-hundred infantrymen jumped on fast-moving vehicles. One after another, convoys headed south, speeding towards Canberra. It would be roughly 20 minutes, but each convoy had to keep a close watch for anyone following them.

Before the last convoy departed, a barrage of mortarfire was shot at the enemy lines, attempting to hinder their advance a bit more. It was, also, a final warning to the remaining garrison at Yass and St Mary’s outpost to the north.

Yass’s Husk. North of Canberra.

The Greek garrison that had originally fought in Yass was reduced to a couple of dozen of fighters, defending whatever they could defend in the hills west of Yass’s Husk. They knew the push on Murrumbateman had begun, and that the garrison there wouldn’t come to their aid. The were alone.

For days they had been harassing the enemy from a strong position, using sniper fire to hinder their comfort and trying to deploy IED’s to keep them on their feet.
They had lost many in the process, but their relative high ground, their underground trenches and their zealotry had allowed these few to survive into a hardened state of Spartan-like experience. In fact, they had decided to go out as the Spartans did. The group converged on the very frontline at the Yass Cemetery.

Placing machineguns and sniper fire in lines sprawling from behind the tombstones and walls to the crossfire killzones, the last defenders of Yass’s Husk launched a flare in the air. To announce their enemies they were to stand a final hour. To announce those still at St. Mary’s outpost that this was that final hour.
Then they opened fire on the supply lines between the crossing of the Yass and the front to Canberra.