Keisarraik: Legacy of The Swarm Wars

[Pax Athena]

"Aimato. Are you awake?" The voice of Absalom had little effect to dispel the menacing effect of the assassin's eyes. The assassin tried to move, but was restrained by several containment fields. His breathing controlled mechanically, as if he regulated the functions of his lungs, the assassin nodded. He knew who he was - no one. Faceless among the endless crowds of humanity. Once he had been someone, an ordinary person, he strained his memory to grasp that slipping fragment of memory as it faded away. He knew it was useless - they told him but he tried anyways. Oh well, the mind wipe process was nearly completely effective, and the human now known as Aimato emerged the perfect spy.

A lab aide reported, "Admiral. The conditioning process is complete. He should be ready for active duty."
The admiral merely nodded. "I see. Aimato. Who are you?"

"Aimato. Agent 31 of SIS. Induction date, November 29th, 2094." The assassin remembered that date. It had some special significance for him, but once again, it slipped clandestinely out of his brain.

"Very good. Aimato. Before you is a knife. It can cut through titanium with ease. I want you to cut off your hand - either would do."

The shadow complied, almost mindlessly, though with an intent alertness, only at completing the order. Without screams, or the slightest indication of pain, even if his nerves were flaring like fires, the shadow did his job, and by the end, a messy limb laid on the floor, cleanly, perfectly cut.
"Impressive. I had not expected the labs to manage to go past that particular psychological block."
"I always accomplish my mission."
"I see. If all is right, your hand should heal momentarily. Now Aimato, thank you."
Something was wrong - Aimato realised that the entire conversation had been entirely in Russian - a language he never learnt. He proceeded to go through his rolodex of words and realised he was suddenly fluent with native proficiency in over 40 languages. But that word thank you was in English.
The magic word. He remembered. It was as if a machine had activated in him. His eyes shifted imperceptibly as it opened, and he saw that Absalom and all the rest had left the room, to be replaced by an automated railgun. It shot once, and fascinatingly, Aimato saw the hypersonic projectile only a hundred meters away leave the barrel in some form of hyper motion, trails of superheated flames in it's wake. As if by instinct, he tried to stop the projectile. Even without movement in the containment, he did not need to. The projectile stopped in midair, abruptly, as if time itself had ceased to move. With intent concentration, he aimed it back and shot the railgun with equal ferocity.

"Confirmed. Brain imprinting successful. Psychic efficiency optimal. Subject rated 99% ready for active duty." The doctor evaluated.
"Very well. It's time for a field test, doctor. Wouldn't you say, China's government had long been a threat to our national security, as the demagogues claim. More practically, it has been an annoyance to our friend the Suongo's plans. It would be highly convenient if it were to spontaneously collapse.

[Finswedeway]

Republican Korea, along with the rest of the Coalition of Faith, have joined the Daoist Union in their war against China, providing additional industrial strength, manpower, and in the case of North Korea, a new front. Immediately, Republican forces began pushing into the communist South Korea, occupying Seoul in the first week with the help of the 4th Elite Legion. Feeling increased pressure, China pushed into the northern front, breaking it, as it was defended solely by Independent Armies. The Chinese marched all the way to the ruins of Liaonaki, which, thanks to terrible infrastructure, put the Chinese right where the Suongo wanted them. Ernst Kim, Sir-General, despite opposing Li politically, followed orders without issue. By August, 12 Lei-u III HT divisions had pushed through Mongolia from Siberia, crushing any opposition, and had reached the shores of Beijing, with a strong supply-line all the way through. An estimated 100 thousand Chinese had just been encircled in the icy ruins of Liaonaki. The retreat of the independents was a trap. Without any naval superiority and crumbling ports in Liaonaki itself, getting supply to the trapped Chinese army would be a fool’s errand. Rather than pushing forward past the Yellow River, as the Chinese had prepared for, several dozen infantry units fortified the Beijing Corridor between the occupied Liaonaki and the rest of China. Total casualties in the entire operation, titled “Operation Genghis” numbered in the tens of thousands, with a disproportionate number of those being Chinese.

—

In the time Undai had been expelled and now, he has been on a massive recruitment drive for the MEC, attempting to restore it to its former glory. He pooled his resources to organize a rally in the middle of Coastal Chotyo. The pier overlooked the beginnings of the underwater part of the city, which was beginning to expand all across the Sea of Japan to make room for the ever-expanding population and industry. The waters were a murky brownish-blue, a sorry sight, but a necessary aspect of progress. Undai stood on a podium emblazoned with the symbol of the MEC to give his speech to a substantial crowd of people, including people watching the news across the country and the world.
“People of Mother Earth, a new threat has revealed itself! That of an ancient King. None other than Hans Sgurken.” Shocked gasps permeated through the crowd. “It is true. Though he may have adopted another identity to hide among us, he is here once again. We all know the legends we learn in school; Hans Sgurken was the immortal King who exercised a terrible rule over his vassals and the peasantry. Well, the hard truth of the matter is that the equally legendary Hinri Zhen failed to truly defeat him, for he lives on to this day. What we, the MEC, need is your help! If there are any gifted warriors, please do feel free to approach now and demonstrate how you can help defeat this monster!” As if rehearsed, a voice called out from the crowd, though it could not be understood. The people in the crowd made way for the man with the scrappy black hair and square glasses. He stepped up to the podium beside Ernst. “And what is your name?” Ernst asked.
“Yan Ano!” he said with enthusiasm. The crowd erupted into applause, as most recognized Yan as the pianist of Zhingu’s band from 2058, the famous “Royals”.
“Can you demonstrate any abilities that may help defeat Hans?”
“With pleasure.” He said, extending a hand towards the large monitor above them that displayed Yan and Undai live. A ring of light formed itself around Yan’s hand. It glowed a dark green. Another, slightly smaller violet circle formed just in front of it. Yan made a fist, making the violet smaller, then swiftly opened it. The purple ring expanded in a flash, and the display on the monitor began to glitch out.
“Yan Ano, ladies and gentlemen.” Undai said, clapping. The crowd cheered for him. “If there are any others wanting to help, please see me after the demonstration.” Most who saw the speech considered it a show, though took to heart the knowledge of the return to Hans. Some, however, saw it as a calling, somewhere they could contribute their unique skills that some had considered made them ‘freaks’.

[Pax Athena]

Absalom knew, of course, that it was an utterly stupid idea to kill the Chinese government in it's entirety, as that was the very body the Suongo were trying to negotiate with. Also, bringing China into total anarchy is not desired. Instead, if the entire military chain of command were to be broken down in the middle, yes, that would do...

---

The last thing General Xi saw were the intense stare of the pair of grey eyes eerily familiar, before he was viciously decapitated, seemingly by a shadow wearing a samurai helmet. He recognised it, was his last thought - the Suongo Invasion, two years ago. Helsinki.

"General!" His aide screamed - a fraction of a moment ago, everything seemed fine. Now he dropped his notebook and screamed, "Assassin!"

The guards, to their credit reacted immediately. The nearest one aimed a shot at the fluid shadow. The bullet made contact but flew through the apparently immaterial Etherial human. It proceeded to hit the aid square in the stomach. All the same, the last thing the aide saw were the intense grey eyes as an inhumanly strong shadow gripped his throat, and slammed him fatally to the wall, causing death by massive trauma.

The shadow gripped his short blade. Within seconds, the other two guards were permanently silenced, wide gashes in their neck and the terrified expression on their faces their legacy.

---

Within a single night, four flag officers, as well as a significant number of field officers, including 19 colonels, and 21 majors were found dead in their tents or residence along with everyone else in the room, leaving virtually no direct witnesses. The method of death were highly varied - decapitation, sniper shot, strangulation, poison. There was no clear pattern - even the poisons were inconsistent and the strangulation with too many techniques for one man - all except for the date of death. The army was in mild disarray - dozens of their most talented and key officers and leaders were suddenly killed with such brutal efforts, that while the army might be able to keep steaming on, it was severely demoralised and deprived of high level leadership.

[Finswedeway]

Soft grey eyes pierced the darkness, seeing Ernst sitting in his study. He tapped on his holo-watch and spoke into it. Soon, an aide appeared carrying a teacup and saucer, humbly placing it on his desk before slipping away. The eyes flashed red for an instant before returning to their natural color, and the figure took on the appearance of Puyi. He stepped out of the shadows into the amber light of the table lamp and spoke calmly to the Sir-General enjoying his tea.
“Good afternoon, Sir-General.” he said, his bald head shining in the light.
“Hello,” he said, hiding his shock at the arrival of a dead man. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of being intruded upon? Or are you something I’m imagining, and I have simply become mentally unfit for this position?”
“Ah, a lover of sesquipedalian loquaciousness as well I presume?” He said with excessive verbosity, “Indulge me for but a moment, if you will be so good-natured?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Have a seat.”
“At my leisure, for I would have proceeded as such regardless of you disposition towards my… surprise-visit, if you will.” He grinned a cheshire grin, his eyes flashing red again. In an instant, he had taken the appearance of a person in a grimacing samurai mask which covered the lower half of their face. They crossed their long legs casually in the leather seat with a certain feminine manner, but it was still hard to determine any other features than they grey eyes and black hair. “I do quite enjoy a lovely round of superfluous, multisyllabic, protracted discussion, that which is characterized through needless utilization by apparently-enlightened individuals in sordid attempts at genuine intellectual discourse of words of an archaic nature.” S/he let out a long sentence of utter nonsense, garnering the appropriate response of a blank stare from Ernst. He glanced at his tea, sniffing it for any drugs. The figure in front of him cleared their throat, pulling their hair back and removing the mask. She had a face as gentle as her voice but as elegant as her speech. “But enough of the crap, though I do find verbosity a great method of gaslighting, I have other methods that are more… subtle.” She glared at him, her grin eerily familiar. “My name is Akako Wu, finally free of that former Consuless.” She waved her hand as if it was a gesture to emphasis her speech, but Ernst felt a strange feeling overtake him as he saw her silver eyes glow red for a moment. “You probably don’t know me.”
“No… no I don’t” Ernst said, but the words came to his mind as if from a foreign source. “Wh-what the hell do you want from me?” He figured out her mind games and had had enough.
“You think you still have even a degree of control over yourself.”
“You said that like a question, but I feel like that’s more of a statement.” Ernst responded, well aware of something being excessively ‘off’. Akako giggled through her smirk. With a wave of her hand, she summoned a red apple. Suddenly, Ernst’s mind was filled with memories of red apples appearing where they ought not to be, though it felt as if they had been there forever.
“I assure you, good Sir-General, I am… well aware of your thoughts right now. Frankly, you should just stop talking.” She paused to give him a moment to speak, but Ernst felt an overwhelming urge not to do so. “Glad you’re willing to comply.” She smiled with her lips closed, significantly more endearing than her toothy grin, but that just made it all the more disturbing. “What you, and your entire military needs to learn is a lesson in humility. That is, in fact, the defining value of Daoism, is it not? Humility? Not hiring people to do things you could already have done on your own?” She beckoned with a wave of her hand, the apple seemingly never having been there in the first place, and the tea and saucer swiftly floated out of Ernst’s hands and into hers. “Dressing more modestly, as Li insists upon doing? Do you wear such regalia to spite her? Don’t answer, I already know.” Ernst’s lack of control over his situation grew to be increasingly frustrating, but that feeling was soon replaced with complacency. “Speaking of things I already know… You’ve been mad at the Chinese for quite some time now, haven’t you? Feeling like you need to make up for your failures last time? So what do you do but invade Mongolia to reach this end? I know you tell yourself that it was Li’s orders, but have you considered that you proposed the operation in the first place? Anyway, I know you’re wondering my motives behind this whole stunt. I’ve had a similar talk with every other Sir-General in the Suongo Army. I specialize in a specific kind of Will, and that is one of mental control. I see what is happening here, and if you had your way this war would be dragged out over years. Under my guidance, it can be done with in a few months, and there is one specific outcome I desire. One that I will relish in. But I have indeed parlayed far too much, and this meeting of two minds must come to a necessary and inevitable close, despite the entertainment it has afforded me. Soon enough, you will recall incorrectly both my name and face, and will return to your life as before, with the inexplicable sense that the influence of your former interlocutor has remained, though it will truly be impossible to determine the validity of this understandable suspicion. Contact me if you wish to speak again, I shall leave a moment of this occasion here.”

The figure was gone, leaving behind a few drops of blood on the wooden desk. Ernst felt tired, light-headed, and not entirely sure of what was going on. One thing was for certain, he needed to defeat the Chinese as fast as possible, regardless of profit.

[Finswedeway]

A surprising development occurred during the final week of August when Ping Li and Mateo Sosa, the Spanish president, met in Moscow to officially confirm Spain’s joining of the Coalition of Faith. Unlike Russland and Finland, and similar to Korea, Spanish sovereignty would be completely respected, and the support of Suongo firepower would be absolutely guaranteed, unlike the situation in the EDEL, where the DUS had no real interest in supporting Techoligian Hegemony. The question of if Spain would remain in the European Federation was uncertain, but it was known that it would remain in the EDEL. Sosa’s decision had the support of his party, the Cultural Nationalist, “Frente de esperanza española”, (Front of Spanish Hope), but there was tremendous pushback from the left. The FEE held an absolute majority as of now, but this could change long-term. In the meantime, the Daoist Union had found itself another valuable ally and trading partner. It was decided that, if Spain was to leave the EF, the Daoist Union would provide temporary economic aid before it could become economically independent once more.

Meanwhile, back in the war, Suongo forces had begun tightening their grip around the Chinese trapped in Liaonaki, hoping they would surrender as soon as possible to ensure that they could continue their offensive past the Yellow River. With Chinese middle command not only crippled, but completely unoccupied, they had no directives to follow. Some skirmishes occurred between the frozen pine forests of outer Liaonaki, with nothing much changing other than confirming for the Suongo that the Chinese were unorganized and desperate. The Suongo were ordered to halt just outside Liaonaki and to wait the Chinese out.

[Techoligia]

A Hochmann pilot walked along a frozen road, slowly marching towards Vienna in his suit. Sent ahead as a scout. A stark believer in the prospect of German unity, he marched forward with the strength of will to see this goal through.The deep snow along the path, however, held a threat not yet expected by the Techoligian Bundesarmee. Three men, clad all in white, hid in the snow.

As the pilot walked the leg of his Hochmann stopped, caught on a tripwire. The towering machine fell with a puff into the snow as the three Austrian Soldiers approached. The crack of a rifle echoed throughout the area as the snow slowly turned red.

The soft hum of the Drop Pod carriers engines were a calm before the storm. The young Fallschirmjager held his GG-5b tight in his hands as he waited for the green light. The patch on his arm was marked with a Raven. The 1st Army’s 4th Division, the Wild Ravens.

“Einz Minuten bis wir fallen!” The Stabsunteroffisier shouted loudly. “Halten Sie Ihre Waffen bereit! Was ist unser Motto?”

The men all replied loudly. “Im Leben, Krieg. Im Tod, Frieden! Für das Kaiserreich!”

The large red light in front of them all turned green. “Gehen! Schnell!” The Stabsunteroffisier shouted once more, rushing to one of the pods. The rest quickly followed as the pods dropped one by one over the once great city of Vienna.

Massive news in European Politics as the Netherlands was semi-integrated into the Techoligian economy. Techoligian officials celebrate as the Netherlands become the first Imperial Associate, a Semi-autonomous body of the Empire. Critics have presented a new name for this “Puppet State”, the Reichskommission der Niederlande as a nod to similar states set up during the Second World War by the Austrian Empire. Supporters counter that it is beneficial to the EF to centralize in response to the growing Coalition of Faith encroaching on the Federation’s boundaries.

Whether Economic Imperialism or Defensive Measures, both sides agree this is a major event in modern Techoligian and European history.

[Finswedeway]

Hans Sgurken had, in only a few months, found his way well into New Fanian politics. He had, thanks to his near infinite wealth, become well-invested into many large, significant corporations in the New Fanian commonwealth, which was even more of a corporatocracy than the Daoist Union. He used his claim on the Kingdom of Sweden to his advantage, rallying a large following of monarchists. All of this was thanks in part to Hans’ legendary sword, which could manipulate weak minds and slay anyone else. He was well on his way to turning New Fania into some kind of Corporate Kingdom that answered solely to him. The exiled King needed only to wait while his cronies did all of the work for him over a long period of time, and patience was something he had mastered.

He found a cozy cave in northern Sweden, which he furnished to make more livable, but still equally isolated as any other cave in the mountains. This was the very cave in which he was born, all those years ago. Who would have thought that the child would grow up to forge an Empire across Eurasia? Seemed it didn’t matter now, as the Empire was rather short-lived, and he was stuck in that blasted hellhole they call Manchuria for almost 1200 years. Hans admired his “heirloom” and how foolish that Undai person was for giving it to him. The fine, silver blade was curved slightly, with many notches on the sharp edge. The hilt was simple, though it glowed a brilliant yellow from the pommel. where a jewel was set. It emanated with great power. Hans squinted, something looked off. The cool winter air blew in from the gaping mouth of the cave, rustling decorative curtains and old tapestries hanging on the stone walls. In the yellow light of the jewel there shined a hint of red. The red color became more defined, actually tainting the jewel itself. The jewel appeared to fill with blood as the last hint of yellow left it. Hans dropped the sword out of shock. It fell to the ground with a metallic clang, bouncing several times before settling, though the red shine from the pommel stayed all throughout. Hans felt a deathly presence nearby, as if it was his own. He turned to see the black silhouette of a tall, slender woman. Her thin legs could be seen holding up the rest of her figure, which was covered in a long black coat. Her face was indistinguishable from the darkness of her image, save for two peering eyes. They glowed an ominous red. Hans grabbed his sword from the ground, realizing what was going on.
“So, mother Akako, you finally show your damnable face.” Hans mused in Swedish as the figure remained still. He stepped forward several paces, closing enough distance between them to make out her features. She wore a slight grin, her eerily white fangs catching the light to make them appear to glow. She smiled, though her harsh eyes suggested hatred. “Not willing to talk, huh? Still mad I made an Empire bigger and stronger than your favorite son’s?” Hans teased, to not even a twitch from the red-eyed figure just out of arm’s reach from him. He brandished the curved blade. “You were a terrible mother,” He said sternly and matter-of-factly. “Do not be mad that I am stealing your power, mother. You deserve everything you got.” Hans pointed the tip of the sword at her. Swiftly, as if in an instant, the figure pulled off her coat and threw it to the floor, revealing the sheathed blade on her hip. The grin on her face had been dropped, but her red eyes gazed hatefully at her son. A voice speaking Japanese-accented Swedish filled Hans’ mind, recognizably Akako’s, but the figure’s lips did not move.
“There are several punishments you earned as a child which I have neglected to dish out. Allow me to fix that.”
The grin on her face reappeared and the hatred in her eyes turned to sadistic joy as she, in one graceful motion, drew her blade and knocked his sword out of his hand. It flew back into the corner, clattering on the ground. Akako did not stop her attack, stepping forward and chopping down into Hans’ left shoulder. It connected, and she drew back to tear arteries. Showing no mercy, Akako kept her grin on her face as she tore into her son's gut with her katana. She pulled her sword from his stomach and kicked him to the floor.
“P-please…” he sputtered helplessly.
“What is it, incorrigible bastard? Learned your lesson?”
“No… please, stop giving me more reasons to despise you.” He picked up his sword in a flash and sprang up, as if his injuries had never happened. As he grasped the sword, Akako felt a great drain on her power. Her red eyes turned gray, and she dropped her sword. She jerked violently, eyes locked open in a surprised expression, as Hans pierced her chest and skewered her on his sword. A gush of blood fell like a waterfall down her front and back, staining her black clothing. The shock in her eyes changed into an uncanny pleasure, the gray filling back into red. She instantaneously disappeared, along with her blade, leaving Hans with a sword covered in unholy blood.

---

A red-eyed woman, graceful and thin, dressed all in black, wandered into the Royal Library. The guards by the door had attempted to apprehend her, but she waved a pale hand and they entered a trance. There were rows and rows of book and tomes, and in one small corner sat a teenage girl with short, black hair, surrounded by an entourage of guards, reading a heavy book. The only sound that could be heard was the clock ticking, as Akako's steps were so light as to be silent, but they made a beeline towards the girl.
“Good afternoon, Empress.” A gentle, eastern voice spoke to her. The sudden noise and the image of the tall woman appearing out of nowhere startled her. The guards around her were laid all around, unconscious.
“Wha- what the?” The Empress stammered, having nothing but confusion and fear running through her. Her grandfather appeared beside her and assured her calmly.
“Worry not, child. This is my mother, Akako Wu. Her mannerisms are intimidating, but she would not appear before you in person without having something important to say. Please hear her out, for even I am curious.” his explanation was descriptive but only left her more confused, she had never heard of any “Akako Wu” and to be Karl's mother? Nothing was making sense. Her confusion was swept away by a sudden realization.
“Mein Gott!” The Empress exclaimed, “you've a hole in your chest!” she was right. A large stab wound and a blood-stain the size of one's hand was right below her ribs.
“It isn't the first and it won't be the last.” Akako stated nonchalantly, her small shoulders shrugging. She turned her head and looked at Karl, which had confused the Empress even further. Surely, no one could see her grandfather. “Greetings son, it has been far too long.” She said warmly, though the girl could not shake the eerie feeling put off by Akako's tall stature and red eyes. Karl looked shocked for a moment, unaware that she could see him, before smiling in return.
“Likewise. Surely, you arrive uninvited with important business, correct?”
“Of course.” She responded with a nod before explaining the situation with Hans and the sword. The gem in the hilt of his sword siphoned power directly from her, similar to how the Empress’ necklace gave him a connection to Karl. What's more, Hans had big ambitions, wanting ultimately to restore the Swedish Empire to its former glory. The question became of how to handle this, for which Akako, for the first time ever, did not have an answer.

[Techoligia]

Vienna, Austria

The young Techoligian soldier slowly made his way through the alleys of the Austrian capital, rifle primed to fire upon anyone who happened into his path. The sounds of battle were everyhere, explosions, the buzzing of Particle Beams, the soft but artificial creaks of Hochmann legs moving through the streets, and the cracking of rifles. He slowly rounded the corner into another alley, where he faced an Austrian soldier, shaking as he held his rifle at the young Gefreiter. They both held their guns to each other, and pulled the trigger.

Click

….

Click

They both took a moment to realize. No ammo. The Techoligian quickly grabbed for his shovel, dropping his rifle while the Austrian drew a knife. They both stood. Representations of the two nations some would say.

The Austrian charged first, trying desperately to stab at his enemy, only to be met with the clang of steel hitting steel, and feeling a punch into his chest from the Techoligian. He staggered back, dropping his knife, standing in defeat as he watched the Techoligian soldier slowly approach, the Spade at his side. The Austrian fell to his knees, hanging his head down to accept his death. He waited.

A minute passed before the soldier looked up to see the Techoligian’s hand extended. He recoiled, expecting to be struck before the other spoke.

“Steh auf, Kamerad.” The accent was hard to understand for the Austrian, but he took the man's hand as he picked himself up. He looked around for a moment before finally speaking to his would-be killer.

“Warum hast du mich nicht getötet?” The Austrian inquired, a look of confusion on his face. The Techoligian slowly removed his mask, revealing a soft smile.

“Wir können Feinde sein. Wir können kämpfen. Aber am Ende, mein österreichischer Freund. Wir sind beide Brüder des deutschen Blutes.” The Austrian nodded as he understood what the man said.

“Folge mir. Ich werde dich an einen sicheren Ort führen.” The Techoligian grabbed the Austrians hand, leading him out of the alleyways and beginning the slow trek to the Techoligian lines.

[Finswedeway]

It was the middle of September, 2097, and Autumn was beginning to fall across the northern hemisphere. For the war, this meant a slow-down in the front was anticipated. Even as the temperatures dropped, Suongo soldiers fighting against China thanked their ancestors they weren't in the 5th Elite Legion, which had been sent over to Austria to aid the Techoligians. From Beijing's tallest building, one could see brown and red leaves to the south of them, reaching all the way to the horizon. A sea of untamable forest would dominate your view, and that's exactly what faced the 2nd Elite Legion, which was fresh out of training and itching for a worthy opponent. A mere 24 miles from Beijing was the front line. Three horizons away and a sea of woods in between.

Two Lei-u divisions and one battalion of private infantry had their backs pushed up against the impenetrable wall of the forest by the unending wave of Chinese soldiers crashing down upon them. Over the battle lied the ominous silhouette of the DUSS Chotyo, a Kiaria (carrier) class dropship, loomed over the Chinese lines. A dozen metal pods with trails of neon red shot out from the ship’s hull, landing among the Chinese lines like heavy anchors. They remained still for a long moment as confused soldiers surrounded them, before they poured out a dozen Suongo elites each, black and white shotguns blazing and catching the Chinese off guard. The ensuing chaos among the Suongo divisions trapped at the mouth of the forest to push and route the Chinese forces. With this kind of momentum, a major change in the front is expected soon.

[Finswedeway]

Tokaya had his nose buried in his book as he sat on a fine leather chair in the small corridor between two living rooms in the palace. Just beside him was a side table with a lacy doily protecting the hand-crafted wood from the lamp filling the room with amber light resting atop it. In front of Tokaya were two large windows, letting in blue moonlight. He squirmed in his seat, his reading disrupted by the conversation between nobles in the living room just across the corridor. The door was open and he had clear sight of the aristocrats enjoying fine spirits and sharing pleasant conversation.
“So, let me tell you the story of this family going in to audition for a talent show.” One of the voices begins to recite a story, holding back laughter. “so, the family walks onto the stage and the director asks, ‘explain to me your act.’ the father steps forward and begins,” the man telling the story pauses to hold back laughter. He continues, “he begins by saying, ‘so in this act, my son will cover my wife in butter. My daughter will then snap her neck and baste her over a fire like a turkey. Then I will proceed to violate the crispy corpse of the mother-turkey.’” the voices pauses as the insanity of the story set in with both Tokaya and the other guests. “So the director is shocked,” the voice continues, “'Mein Gott!’ he says, 'and what is the name of this act?’” the voice pauses once more. “The Aristocrats!”

A dead silence hangs in the air. Tokaya would relish the opportunity to continue reading, but he too could not help try to work out exactly how to react to the bizarre joke. The silence is finally broken by a confused voice. “I do not get that joke, Artur.”

“What?” Questions the voice who told the joke, “have you not heard the joke of the Aristocrats?”

“No Artur,” another voice says disappointedly, “and frankly, it sounds rather… communist.” Gasps fill the room at the very mention of the word.

“Come on guys, it's just a harmless joke!” He laughs nervously.

“See, Hans, this is what happens when you let the lowborns into high society: Shitty communist jokes about incestuous Aristocrats.”

“Well,” trails off a voice in response, “I think I understand where this joke is coming from. The delivery was just a little poor.”

“You dirty communists, the lot of you! Insults to the aristocracy can't be tolerated amongst civilized men as ourselves!”

Somehow, the small dispute over the validity of a joke turned to an all-out brawl within a few moments, and Tokaya sat, terrified, just in the other room. He set down his book, got up from the chair and peered out the door. A violent fist-fight broke out between people who liked the joke and people who didn't. “Dirty commie!” exclaimed one of the well-dressed men, tugging on the hair of a man he had pinned to the ground. Suddenly he was pushed over by a man stumbling backwards from a particularly powerful punch. They all collapsed in a pile of angry aristocrats.

“S-stop!” Tokaya shouted loudly, standing in the doorway. He locked up in fear as he saw all of their gazes fall upon him. He looked to the side and fiddled with his hands. The angry shouting of the brawl turned to silence as they all looked at him. “Uh… th-there's…” he stumbled around his words as he felt the pressure of the eyes pushing him down. “please don't fight!” he blurted out. Tokaya did not put up a good argument, but the pitiful sight of the nervous teen and the moment to reflect brought them back to their senses. They collected themselves and sat in silence for a moment. Another door to the living room bursted open.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Questioned the assertive voice of the Empress, who was backed up by two geists. At the sight of her, Tokaya gasped and escaped to the solitude of his corridor and the safety of his books. this time shutting the door completely so as to avoid the possibility of an uncomfortable interaction.

[Techoligia]

Hundreds of Techoligian soldiers stood outside of the Austrian Parliament, weapons at the ready to storm the final obstacle to the final victory in the Unification Wars. Cheers and shouts erupted when the men were told the news of the final battle. The city of Vienna was unusually quiet for a war zone.

The Austrians were given the option to surrender. Several times over. Each refusal was more harsh and profane than the last. Techoligian command finally decided that the attack must commence.

Bayonets were fixed, weapons loaded. Soldiers stood waiting for the final order, dead defenders surrounding the building. Then they heard the words they all awaited.

“For the honor and glory of the Empire, CHARGE!” The cheers turned to battlecries as the words. Men and women charged into the building from any entrance, a squad of Androids entering the main doors.

Z-176 kicked open the door, raising his rifle to three guards that opened fire upon him, ripping several holes into his shell before he and his squadmates gunned them down. They ran through the halls, watching Techoligian soldiers slaughter the Austrian defenders. As the gunfire quieted the squad finally reached the main chamber, backed up by several Techoligian soldiers.

As the doors opened into the chamber, there was silence as they slowly entered. In the center stood a single man, the President himself.

“Well I must say you Teckolanders have always been a bit of a Wildcard. Exclaim your discoveries with a Eureka and attack enemies with a cry of Veni, Vidi, Vici. But as you Techoligians love to take gambles on wars like ours, perhaps you need a reminder of one key factor: the House Always Wins.” The President smiled maniacally as he pressed the detonator in his hand.

The detonation could be seen for hundreds of kilometers. Vienna, caught in the flames of a Nuclear Hellfire.

[Finswedeway]

Undai had an entourage of followers, trainees of the MEC, shadow him as he walked towards the Techoligian palace. He paused to take a deep breath of the winter air. Over the course of six months, the MEC had grown to a substantial size, employing the most gifted of warriors from across the world. Yan Ano, his MEC badge glimmering in the winter light, placed a hand on Undai's shoulder. “You can do this,” he said reassuringly. Undai looked to the sky and sighed. It was late into the year and white specks of frosty snow began to descend upon Cogsport. He and his group of 7 MEC trainees walked up the elegant steps to the imposing door of the palace. Three knocks echoed through its halls.
“It's the MEC, we're here to see Tokaya. We're expected.” Undai firmly stated to the synth who answered the door. The android respectfully nodded and led them to the grandiose hall, reminiscent of the Suongo palace but less humble in comparison. Pure white light shining through the windows met the gold finish on nearly everything in the hall. The hall was fairly compact, with two oversized staircases on either side of wall, each curving toward each other to meet the upper floor, which had an open layout and a balcony overlooking the hall. More elaborate doors were scattered all around. Undai and his seven sat quietly in the hall.
Yan Ano mumbled something under his breath. “Pardon?” Undai said with an eyebrow raised.
“Oh, I was remarking on how I have never met Tokaya before.” Yan said with the slightest hesitation, tucking his somewhat long and spiky hair behind his ear.
“Yes, it's a shame. I really ought to tell the full story one day.” Undai responded and rubbed his bearded chin. Despite being some 20 years older, Yan's youth still remained while Undai, in his mid-thirties, seemed much older in comparison. His black hair was already beginning to grey and his thick but groomed beard hinted towards grizzled maturity. Then emerged from the balcony on the upper floor a face only barely familiar, and one unmistakable. “Tokaya!” Undai exclaimed with excitement. The young teen rushed down the stairs and they met in a warm embrace.
“I haven't seen you in ages, Undai” said Tokaya, his face beaming with excitement. Undai looked up, just behind Tokaya calmly walked the spitting image of Namai, if Namai was a high-tech synth with several bullet and burn wounds on her skin plates. She wore a simple hooded coat that hung above her knees, and Tokaya wore something quite regal, certainly of Techoligian make as evidenced by the style of golden buttons, but with Suongo traditions in mind, including the white collar signature of Suongo royals.
“NB, been a while. Still haven't fixed your damaged parts, huh?” Undai asked rhetorically, knowing full well she could not speak to respond. To his surprise, a gentle feminine voice spoke in perfect Awglikhan.
“Good evening, Undai. The Techoligians could not repair my damaged systems, so they simply replaced what they could. Please, call me Ib.”
“Damn.” Undai could not help but exclaim. “Never thought I'd hear your voice, nor could I ever have imagined you'd choose such a cliche name.” Ib did not emote, only looking towards his MEC Trainees. Undai let go of Tokaya, the young boy returning to Ib's side. The happiness in Undai's face seemed to falter for a second. “Well now, it seems we're all here. Let's get going then.”
“W-wait!” Tokaya interjected with slight trepidation. “I need to say goodbye to someone first.”
“You don't need my permission,” Undai said with a small frown, motioning towards Ib. Ib's emotionless face turned towards Tokaya, and it seemed as though she went from cold machine to loving mother in an instant as she smiled warmly.
“You may go, Tokaya. I will stay here; I must talk to Undai.” And with that Tokaya ran off up the stairs with excitement.
“So, has your name always been Ib?” Undai asked, his frown leaving his face.
“I am programmed to introduce myself as such, but this is all I know; much of my programming has been corrupted by system damage.” Ib's face was consistently stoic as she spoke to him.
“About that…” Undai glanced at the side of her forehead which was adorned by an open bullet wound, as it had been for as long as he knew her, “You still haven’t explained what you were doing in that crypt... and why you felt compelled to save me.” He looked down and motioned with his leg, replaced with plastic cybernetics resembling Ib’s own.
“I apologize, Undai, I lack any memory from before waking up in the facility. I only know my primary functions, and that I and models like myself can behave in unpredictable ways when our programming fails.” Ib explained matter-of-factly, as if she had only said so for the first time despite having to repeat herself often. She shared the silence with Undai, awaiting a response that would not come. Ib threw her eyebrows up slightly. “I understand there was something in particular you wished to meet us here,” she insinuated genuine interest, but Undai could be no more sure she was being genuine than if he was speaking to a brick wall, “something beyond taking Tokaya to his proper home with the MEC and the Palace. Would you care to discuss this now?”
“Yeah,” Undai trailed off, his gaze distant before looking back at the Android, “I wanted your help in fulfilling the Mother Earth’s Corps’ duty. I am still a little put off by the fact that you can talk; I honestly just expected the same-old muted hunk of bolts to quietly nod and go along with it, but…” he trailed off again, giving a small shrug and grinning with only the side of his mouth, something of an awkward grimace.
“Don’t be so worried, Undai. For some reason, I feel especially drawn to the Emperor.” Ib paused, thinking with the same neutral face as always. “I will do everything in my power to protect him. This includes protecting the Earth, if necessary. What is it the MEC needs from me?”
“Convenient!” Undai perked up for a second, “I mean… I- rather, we hoped you would provide Tokaya with care a mother could give, uh- while I teach him martial arts and other necessary things an Emperor needs to know, of course.”
“A pleasant offer indeed.” Ib said with a manufactured smile. From behind Undai, Yan glared at her, then to the balcony where Tokaya had disappeared to.
“I hope you know what you’re doing with that child.” he said coldly. Ib’s gaze turned to the bold youth standing behind Undai, processing exactly what he was trying to imply.
“Thank you, Officer Ano,” she replied, scanning over Yan and taking note of his MEC badge, the slight flaring of his nostrils, and the confident posture he held, “I hope Undai knows what he’s doing with you.” Ib said with a warm, plastic smile, her words all the more smug because of it.
“Was that… sarcasm?” Undai said, eyebrows raised.
“I am not progra-” Ib began to say before being cut off by the yellings of Yan.
“I’ll have you know I’m an experienced Suongo warrior, over 50 years old!” he shouted, “I’ll not tolerate such insults from an irrelevant alien robot such as yourself!” Yan practically shook at resisting the urge to pounce on Ib and tear her apart.
“Yan.” Undai said firmly, an arm held out to his side to hold him back. “Do not prove her point. Besides, outbursts are not appropriate in front of the children.” Ib looked to where Undai was watching the young Emperor walk down the stairs.
“Well, Tokaya,” Ib said with genuine warmth in her tone, “have you said your goodbyes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tokaya said happily.
“Then, shall we go?” she turned to Undai, her smile dropping to its natural position of respectful content.
“With haste.” Undai replied, taking his teleportation battery from his coat pocket.

[Techoligia]

Klaus Schuler sat in his office, reading over various presented laws and other miscellaneous paperwork involved in running the bureaucratic mess that was the Techoligian Federal Government. Combine the stress of this with the slow and unpredicted rise of the Syndicalists back into the Federal Council, Klaus was feeling the impact of running the infantile Empire. Sighing, he decided to take a short break and watch the news on his Holoscreen.

“Hello Techoligians, and welcome back to the Cogsport News Network. Today in the headlines: Multiple Techoligian Droid Manufactories have mysteriously shut down in northern Narilland. Officials from the Narillander Regional Government have stated that nothing is wrong, and that the Manufactories should be up and running in a few days after various maintenance tasks have been completed. There should be no cause for concern.

In other news, the cleanup of the ruined city of Vienna has progressed smoothly, and most officials give an estimate of 3-4 years until most of the city has been rebuilt. And now the weathe-”

Klaus shut off the Holoscreen, returning to his work, the reports of the Manufactories fresh in the back of his mind.

[Finswedeway]

The night was especially dark and warm. In the smog-laden city of Stockholm, important men and women enjoyed fine spirits and looked out over the city from the impossibly tall skyscrapers. Neon lights hung over heavy air, like yellow-eyed monsters breathing softly over their miniscule prey below them. The loud roar of the lightning fast automated cars driving on the massive highway cleaving through Stockholm created a soft hum which reverberated even towards the wealthy center, and this could even be felt with occasional vibrations on the sidewalk. From the amber lights of a tall skyscraper emerged a muscular figure with well-groomed blonde hair. He walked out towards the street and pressed a button on his watch. On the empty road rode up a hovering black vehicle letting off a yellow glow and the words “TAXI” displayed on the windshields in yellow LED lights. The back door slowly slid open and the figure stepped in. He stared at the screen in front of him, all of the words in some strange Eastern language. He struggled to read it before realizing that it displayed a map with various stopping locations in the large city. He tapped on the road where his personal home was and the taxi automatically charged him for the fare as it made its way to its destination.
“Stupid Manchurian manufacturing…” he drunkenly mumbled to himself as he stepped out of the vehicle and went up to the penthouse of his suite. As the man swiped his keycard and entered his top-class apartment, he noticed the curtains blowing in the breeze of an open window. “Strange” he muttered quietly, closing the window and collapsing on his couch.

Akako tried her best to hold back her anger and maintain her invisibility as she waited for Hans to fall asleep. Just as she thought he was ready to pass out, he tiredly stood up and went over to a side table. From the drawer, he picked up a handgun that hummed with energy. Hans casually fired at her. As the energy bullet struck her gut she dropped the invisibility and rushed at him. She landed a strong punch to Hans’ jaw and dropped him to the ground. Akako sat over him, a hand on his chest and another hand brandishing a large knife.
“How could you sense my energy!?” She asked, her eyes literally red with anger. Hans laughed quietly.
“You’re the most powerful being in the world, how could I not?”
“But… what about…” she grunted in frustration, “No one's been able to sense energy since 2084!”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Hans said, his smile dropping.
“Whatever! Die!” she shouted as she plunged her knife into his face. Just before it landed, he disappeared and reappeared behind her, kicking her from the side and into the wall. Furniture fell over and the strength of his kick put a sizable hole in the wall and into the bathroom. Hans groaned in frustration.
“I'd appreciate it if you didn't make such a mess of my apartment.” He said. Hans stepped through the hole and kicked her once again, this time through a portal leading to the endless sands of the Sahara. He sighed, alone once more.

---

An unofficial ceasefire had been called across the front lines as the cold set in and the year turned to 2098. Neither side wanted to fight in the nuclear winter, and at its current rate it seemed like the war would continue well into the new century. The bulk of the Chinese army was still encircled in the Liaonaki wastes, and supplies were running low. The Chinese commander sent out foraging parties, but the desolation of the nuclear blast site bore nothing that wasn't already guarded by the Suongo. Furthermore, anarchist bands taking refuge in the ruins constantly harassed the Chinese with night time raids.
Not everything was peachy on the Suongo side, as there are rising sentiments for reform among the people. Despite holding a complete majority of the House, the Phoenix Front is struggling to pass further legislation. For now, the war keeps people employed, but political scientists note two distinct factions forming within the Front that may split the party once peace is established.

[Techoligia]

The Cogsport Institute of Technology, Cogsport, Techoligia

Head of Research Karl Ruprecht stood next to another scientist sat at a terminal, listening to the young AI researcher ramble on about the improvements made to the various AIs running the facets of Techoligian robotics.

“Well you see, Doctor Ruprecht, what I’ve designed is a central AI processor for all of the Supervisor intelligences, allowing all of these services to work in tandem for optimal efficiency! I call it S.O.K.R.A., the Supervising Operational Knowledgeable Resource Applicator, and it will completely revolutionize the field of AI in our fine nation! The Bundesrat has already approved its installation, and by now should be up and running!”

Doctor Ruprecht sighed as he listening to the uppity man ramble on further about the new management AI. He was barely paying attention as he was busy inspecting the code in front of him, barely understanding any of it as he was a Biochemist, not a Programmer. The Doctor was about to fall asleep standing due to the boredom of listening to his inferiors ramblings until an alarm sound, startling him back awake.

“ALERT. ALERT. SECURITY BREACH IN SECTOR OMEGA: AI DEVELOPMENT. ALERT. ALERT. SECURITY BREACH IN SECTOR OMEGA.”

As Karl looked up and around he noticed many of the other scientists bolting towards the exits. The last thing he would ever see was the flash of a Tesla cannon.

The Bundesrat Building, twenty minutes earlier.

Bundeskanzler Klaus Schuler was giving a heated speech on the proposed bill to once again limit the power of the State legislators, arguing that too much has been taken from local governance as is, and the Central Government needed no more than it already had.

As he finished his lengthy tirade he closed his “eyes” to regain composure. But when he closed the lids of his optical sensor he didn’t see black. He saw a strange symbol, almost as if it was ingrained into his processor. In the back of his thoughts he felt a pain, a pain he must remove. Then he heard only one thing throughout his robotic mind.

“Unit K1AU5. Activate procedure Kilo Yankee Sierra Five-Oh-Seven.”

Techoligians tuned into Government Television would be the first to witness the legendary Chancellor raise his antique pistol to his head, and pull the trigger.

[Finswedeway]

The 2098 Spring offensive launched in accordance with the Blossom Plan ordered by Consuless Ping Li herself would see major crossings all along the front as Suongo Elites spearheaded the advance past the Yellow River. Within two months, Kim’s motorized and Lei-u Divisions had pushed to the Yangtze River, a stone’s throw away from Shanghai, and The Suongo were well within a position to negotiate peace terms.

---

Meanwhile, under the noses of the great powers occupied with their own troubles, one Hans Sgurken has been elected into power in Scandinavia, branding himself Kejsar of the Sverige Rijk. This does not sit well with the growing number of Royalists in Finswedeway, but it will be some time before the country could find an excuse to react, as Sgurken technically hasn't done anything wrong yet.

[Finswedeway]

Tokaya Zhen sat in the palace study, practicing his writing while the busy sounds of the newly-reformed MEC permeated from the courtyard through the open window. Two guards accompanied him at all times as per tradition, but he simply could not focus around other people.
“Verlasse” he ordered without thinking. When they responded with only blank stares, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “äzha” he said in proper Awglikhan, and the MEC guards promptly left without question.
As the door shut and the room went still, Tokaya heard a slight movement in the room. He would have otherwise brushed it off as ruckus from the MEC training in the lower levels, but this was a very nearby creaking of the floorboards. He looked up and saw a woman with short, black hair and deathly red eyes looking down on him.
“Jesus!” He exclaimed, shooting up out of his seat. A shiver crawled down his back and through his limbs.
“Good afternoon, child.” the woman said with an air of familiarity. Tokaya sighed with relief.
“Why do you always do that, Akko?” he questioned.
“Few people tolerate the presence of a vampire.”
“Those people are weird.”
“Once again, I am reminded that you are fourteen.” Akako walked around the desk and stood next to where Tokaya sat. “I have a proposition for you.”
Tokaya nervously shifted in his seat. “Uhm… I need an adult?”
“I am an adult, and soon you can be too. Under the condition that you let me turn you into a vampire.”
“How would that do anything?” Tokaya raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Vampirism, when transferred from a true vampire to a human, and regardless of whether they are offspring of a vampire or not, reverts or accelerates the development of one's mind and body to their biological peak.”
“So that means I can become an adult?” He said, becoming excited.
“Yes, child. It is fairly simple.”
“But how would that work legally? I mean, my birth certificate would still say I was born 14 years ago. If I am by all accounts an adult otherwise would I have to-”
“NERD!” Akako interrupted him. “Now, sit still for a moment.” Akako placed her hand gently under his chin. “This may kill you. In fact, it will kill you, but there is a fairly good chance you'll be an immortal vampire afterwards.” She elegantly lifted his chin up and with her other hand viciously grasped his neck. He rose from his seat in her powerful hold, and they were engulfed in a black and red embrace of shadows. The darkness faded away, and they now both stood outside. The crimson moon’s light shone through the branches of the dead tree above them. Akako dropped Tokaya to the snow-covered ground, who was left utterly dazed. She drew a small dagger, drew it across his neck, and held it by the blade in her right hand over Tokaya. Blood dripped down the wooden handle and onto his cut, mixing with his own blood. She returned her dagger to the sheath under her black coat with white Victorian-inspired accents and pulled out an engraved revolver. Without a second thought, she aimed and fired directly at Tokaya’s heart. “Waste no time, child.”

Tokaya opened his eyes. He was laying on his bed, many prominent MEC members huddled around, watching closely and with fear written on their faces.
“Min Denka-dai! What has happened?” Asked who Tokaya recognized to be Yan Ano.
“I… I don’t remember...” Tokaya noticed his voice was significantly deeper as he tiredly mumbled.
“We found you lying on the ground of your study” Interjected Undai. Tokaya looked over and saw that Ib was holding his hand, looking at him with worried eyes. “Tokaya, look at yourself!” Undai handed him a mirror. He looked to be in his mid-twenties at most, his muscles well-toned.
“So it worked…” Tokaya muttered. He shot out of bed and pushed his way past the MEC, donning his father’s gray trench coat.

[Finswedeway]

After the Chinese army encircled in Liaonaki had made a desperate, and failed, breakthrough attempt against the Suongo, they were forced to surrender. An army of nearly 200,000 had either succumbed to starvation, Suongo space-bombardment, or been arrested as prisoners of war. The State of Liaonaki was now back under full Suongo control, which means that scheduled elections could now proceed as usual. Shocking news befell the Phoenix Front, however.

Li stood in front of the podium in the Tower of Representatives in Chotyo before both the Moon and Sun Houses of the Government. She coughed into a handkerchief in between sentences.
“Asians all, I am displeased to announce that due to my failing health, I am unable to run for reelection. I will see this dreaded war through to the end such that Asian Unity may be achieved, as I had promised four years ago. To that end, I do have some good news for us today. With the resolution of the battle of Liaonaki, and chaos in the streets of Shanghai from disgruntled Asians, the treacherous Chinese government has issued a declaration of surrender this morning. Negotiations are scheduled for the end of this month. My friends, through fire and fury, sweat and steel, the banners of victory may finally be raised.” Her short speech ended with polite applause, even from the opposition.

This year’s election proved quite divisive. A near perfect split between the four parties meant that no majority government could be formed. The old Phoenixist government would remain in power while new elections are called to try again and negotiations are made to form a coalition government.

[Finswedeway]

The halls of Nanjing were lined with Communist regalia, Li felt more sickened by them than her own disease. She was escorted by Chinese guards holding suspiciously American rifles to a room in the palace with a large, round table. She looked across to the man sitting on the end opposite to her. A face she knew too well. The Chairman who took power after the Social reformer put in place by the Suongo was ousted. He sat with a despicable smugness about him as he bid her to sit. The chairs were painfully uncomfortable, but Li simply leaned forward and folded her arms on the table. Meanwhile, the Elites who accompanied her remained standing.

No one but the people present know what happened next. All that is known is the fact that the Chinese Chairman turned up dead in his home the day after, and that the Treaty of Nanjing was signed.

An independent Cantonese Republic would be established, firmly under the Suongo sphere but culturally removed, and all north of the Yangtze River would go to the Daoist Union. Asian Unity was official.

Meanwhile in Chotyo, electoral gridlock has heralded disaster. Four separate factions in the government struggled to cooperate, the People’s Liberation Party even refusing to participate at all. Without a Konesule, nor a Kanesler, nothing could be done. The newly acquired territory could neither be organized nor incorporated, the economy could not demilitarize, and the mercenaries could not be paid. Soon enough, though the people were mostly content, the army began to be filled with unrest, and some worried a coup was imminent.

[Techoligia]

For weeks the standoff between the Techoligian Army and the SOKRA Rebellion continued. People on their way to work would drive past the ruined structure of the Cogsport Institute. As the stalemate raged on, the Empress decided it would be time to make her last speech before her marriage. One that would be remembered for generations to come.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire. For years now the grand Techoligian Empire has flourished under the guidance of heroes like Klaus Heinrich Schuler, and under the rule of the just Techoligian Federal Council, we have remained stable. We’ve even been able to remove the ‘Days without an attempted coup’ sign!” The crowd chuckled at the joke, not knowing that there used to be an actual sign in the Rat which said just that.

“However, this era is not without issues. To our east, the successor to the Fanian State rises and to the west, the North Americans are on the verge of collapse. The great city on the Danube, Wein, was destroyed by maniacs who could not accept the unity of the German people. Day after day there are attempts made on my life, and on many others who are important to the government of the Empire. As such, I am here to announce the ratification of a new Constitution to Techoligia, one that, while withholding the amendments to the previous one, has lessened the bureaucracy of government and puts more power into the States of Techoligia.” The Empress clears her throat before continuing.

“Now that the fancy government speak is out of the way, I would like to discuss the future of the Empire. As I said previously, the Happyland is falling apart. The Imperial Council has decided that in the case of a collapse, the Empire would pledge its immediate support to any successor of the American Republic, and could expect full military and economic support by the Empire. And as we watch the last opponent of the Empire fall, we shall rise even further above to our true potential. The potential my Grandvater knew Techoligia had. However, this will not be without sacrifice. Blood may be shed, lives may be lost, but in the end, Techoligia will rise above the others as the greatest empire to grace Earth. For it will be Blood, Sweat, and Steel that will form the basis of the new Empire.” As the Empress walks from the stage the crowd goes wild in applause and cheering, many pressing a fist to their chest in the Techoligian salute. Unbeknownst to many, even the Empress herself, Techoligia’s peace had come with a cost.

[Evil Dictators Happyland]

OOC:
To preface this, I would like to say a couple things. The first is that I almost didn't do this, if for no other reason than to keep the meme alive. The second is that this combines four or five different ideas I had into one frankenpost, so be aware that some things might not go together well.
Also, this will be referring to events that have not been posted about, simply because there were years of RP time where I was not posting, and it wouldn't make sense for literally nothing to be happening in the meantime. Just assume that we were too busy dealing with that to affect geopolitics.

Alexander examined the map of his country, becoming more worried by the hour that his plan would lead to failure. But he continued on: it was the best plan he'd come up with so far, and he was in too deep to abandon it now.
Playing the various resistance factions off of each other was a good idea in theory, but in practice, it amounted to a huge headache. The various Fifty Blessings-styled democratic reformers in the south, the militant weeaboos in the west, the psychopathic borderline theocrats in the east, and the anarchists in the north were all powerful, and they were very interested in ensuring that their ideologies came to dominate the world - something only stopped by a plague of informants, spies, and countercounterrevolutionaries that co-opted their activities and made them unknowingly fight for the government while simultaneously convincing them that other rebel groups were actually working for him.
But keeping such a massive plan running was taking a toll on the Dictator. He could no longer truly govern the entire nation, having to delegate certain regions to viceroys that had actual power instead of just being training positions - something he paid for dearly in the last civil war.
He'd managed to put that one down quickly enough that the rest of the world couldn't intervene, but the damage had been done. America had been proven to be weak, as socialism had been shown to be ineffective.
Well, I'd like to see any of you last a week in my situation. he thought. We have incompetent bureaucrats, worldwide hostility, and no allies except for South Africa. America isn't weak. It's just not strong enough to fight the entire world.
But there was no point in not trying.

He called up a different screen, this one a map of a large port city in Japan. Trade had been going on with them for some time now - in theory, it was all black market, but nothing of importance happened involving America without him at least being aware of it - and this particular shipment contained iron and steel, refrigerated dairy products, and rubber, all of which they were short of in Japan. In exchange, the Suongo offered various kinds of finished luxury goods - most notably silk and genuine Russian vodka, both of which were nearly unheard of across the Pacific.
Of course, this ship didn't contain what the manifest said it did. Of course, it did have iron and steel - but it wasn't in the form of blocks of metal. Instead, it was in the form of tanks, armor, and guns, with the men to use them. This wasn't a trade mission.
It was an invasion.
On his command, a stealthed submarine tailing the cargo ship fired its payload of twenty four tactical-strength short range nuclear missiles, eliminating the nearby military bases and destroying much of the city's industrial district. People panicked, running as fast as they could away from danger, as his army calmly unloaded itself from the cargo ship. A few minutes later, the stubborn resistance put up by a few police officers had been brutally crushed, and the city was under his control.
Similar invasions across Europe and Suosverge took place, with troops landing in places like Brest, Vladivostok, and Helsinki, but he was focusing on this one in particular. Over the next few hours, he watched as his troops removed the Daoist Union's flag from the city's capitol building, replacing it with his own. A Dairy Queen was firebombed. A red banner was unfurled over an abandoned ZhenCorp banner, displaying a message in both English and Awglikhan:
Workers of the Union, your liberation has come!
By the end of the day, he was in control of most of the Pacific and the Baltic. New Fania had followed his plan, launching an invasion of Finland. Techoligia and Pax Athena had formally joined the war against America, but they had not yet organized and they were not a threat. He watched as his navies attacked the Athenians in the water and the Techoligians in the void, suffering heavy losses but inflicting considerable damage to his surprised foes.

He called up a simple calculation, figuring the odds of a victory in the war. The odds weren't great: there was only an 8.4% chance of a victory, compared to a 33.2% chance of defeat.
He sighed, calling off the simulation. Winning a war against the Trifecta wasn't possible. He watched as the actual cargo ship weighed anchor off shore, with smaller boats delivering its cargo to some eager (but less than enthusiastic) merchants. The merchants pretended to haggle for the price, knowing that the communists wouldn't settle for less than they were expecting, but didn't care if they got more - they wouldn't get anything out of the deal, but there was always the threat of summary execution if they turned up with less than was demanded.

He reread the last message he had received from Thera. It was years old by this point, but he figured that the offer still stood.

Alexander,
I think you know what's about to happen, so I won't waste time describing it. All I'll say is that, if you wanted to destroy everything I worked for, you should have killed me first.
But we can avoid the proxy war that's about to take place. Instead of your army fighting mine, thousands dying on both sides no matter who comes out on top, we can settle this one on one.
I formally challenge you to a duel. Any place, any time. The winner gains control of America. You'd just lawyer it if I give specifics, so I won't. But you'd do well to remember: If you don't fight for your soldiers, your soldiers won't want to fight for you.
Regards,
Thera

The truth was, he'd been looking for a successor for quite some time. He had been trying to find someone better than Thera ever since he'd removed her from power for the first time, and he had consistently failed - she was probably the most capable human on Earth when it came to administration, but even she couldn't keep the bureaucratic morass that was the U.S.S.A. running for long.
But perhaps that was the best possible outcome. Perhaps it needed reforms, so that omnipresence was not a prerequisite for running the government.
This was a very roundabout way of transferring power. For one thing, it might not even work. For another, it involved his death.
But he had never feared death before, so why start now?
He composed a reply message, hoping that it would get to her.

Thera,
I hope your offer of a duel still stands, because I have decided to accept. Meet me where the White House once stood, and we can end this once and for all.
Regards,
Alexander

---

Thera was busy finishing up with another logistical meeting, this one on the subject of how arms and ammunition could be transferred to various fractured resistance groups.
Running this revolution was draining. Half the people here wanted to manipulate her, and the other half wanted her head on a spike as soon as they were in power, and she had to make it so that both of these groups did what she wanted.
The truth was, she wasn't interested in taking power. That ship had sailed years ago. America as it was needed to be destroyed.

Finally, she found the time to check her messages. She scrolled through the standard reports that she got hundreds of per day. She almost mass-deleted everything she had received, but she noticed a message from someone she never would have expected: Alexander. Curious, she read it.
After finishing the short document, she set her commlink aside. She hadn't expected that he'd actually accept her offer. It was something of an open secret that he was on his last life, so why risk permanent death to end a resistance group that (in all honesty) was no threat whatsoever?
It was probably a trap, she reasoned. She called up satellite video of what was once the White House, instructing the program in charge of it to search for any anomalies that had occurred since she had initially challenged him. The only thing it picked up was a mechanical man setting up what appeared to be a lawn chair in a particularly large crater, which had happened about thirty minutes before.
That's definitely him, she thought, but why accept my challenge? And why now, of all times?
"Doesn't matter." she murmured. "This is going to end now. I'll kill him, and end this once and for all."

---

About an hour later, Thera stepped off of the microlite helicopter she had commandeered. She drew her revolver, anticipating a hail of energy blasts to erupt as soon as she set foot on the ground, but nothing came. She scanned for nearby threats, but her power armor's sensors didn't pick anything up.
"You're late." he said, without looking up from his book.
"Yes, well, let's not waste any more time."
She fired a few rounds at him, his armor plating deflecting the bullets. He responded by throwing his book at her. She caught it, taking a second to look at the spine.
"The Communist Manifesto. Typical."
She discarded the book and her proven-to-be-useless gun, drawing her sword. It was made of reinforced carbon fiber, and laser-sharpened down to a single molecule - a well placed hit from that and you're dead, no matter what armor you have on.
She adopted a light stance, preparing to dodge ranged attacks. It was impossible to truly dodge laser fire, but if you saw where they were aiming, you could get out of the way fairly easy. But this proved unnecessary: Alexander closed to melee, swinging with what appeared to be a sickle.
She jumped out of the way and stabbed him where the stomach would be on a human. The blade sank in a few inches before he counterattacked, forcing her back.
The frown on his face told her that she had hit something important - probably his teleport circuits, or maybe a redundant core - so she naturally tried it again. She charged planting her sword in his heart.
Alexander staggered backwards, dropping his sickle. "Your fencing skills... have improved, it seems."
He collapsed, trying to pull the sword out of his chest. Thera drew a replacement, preparing to finish him off.
"I guess... this is the end. You win. But can I make one last request?"
Thera was wary, but fairly confident. "Sure. Go ahead."
"Be a better leader than me."
She lowered her weapon. "I'm not planning on being a leader at all."
He was obviously confused - she had spent enough time around him to know when he was faking an emotion, but this wasn't it.
"What?"
"I told you." she replied. "This nation is corrupt, bloated, and standing alone. Even if it's the least repressive communist regime in history, it still oppresses its people - things that would be easy human rights violations anywhere else are Tuesday here. And that's not even getting into the fact that we, more specifically you, have been at least indirectly responsible for nearly every major conflict that has happened in the past century. Either I destroy America, or it destroys everyone. That's an easy decision to make."
He was genuinely at a loss for words. Which iteration made him forget the fact that not everyone's an autocrat? wondered Thera.
"...You know, I was kind of afraid there for a moment."
He got to his feet. His expression changed. Where there was once surrender, there was now an iron resolve.
"I was afraid that you would take over and become even worse than me. Or that you would try to keep it together and fail. The last thing we need here is a Gorbachev, and the only thing we need even less is a Stalin, because God only knows what would happen if someone even worse than me ended up in power. But, see, the about being afraid of what you're going to do is that I have to fear you first."
He tore the blade from his chest. Sparks flew, and machinery groaned, but he stood firm, preparing for combat.
"I have to fear you to fear what you're going to do. And I don't anymore."
He charged, taking Thera off guard. He slashed blindly, catching her forearm. She nearly dropped her weapon, and barely had time to stab in his general direction before he followed up with an energy blast to the head, nearly frying her brain.
This is wrong. she thought. A few minutes ago, he was falling over the instant I touched him, and he couldn't even put a scratch on me. He wasn't anywhere near this fast, strong, or accurate. What the hell changed?
She parried the next slash, and dodged the one after that. He had her on the defensive, and she knew it.
He feinted left, drawing her attention away, and then stabbed straight through her elbow - her cybernetic enhancements and heavy armor didn't even slow him down. She didn't feel much of anything, since that arm was pretty much 100% metal by now, but the forearm went limp, and her sword clattered to the ground.
Her life flashed before her eyes. This was the end.
"So... do I get to make a last request?" she weakly asked.
"No."
Alexander impaled her on his weapon, stabbing clean through her life support system. Her heart and lungs shut off, and she was, for all intents and purposes, dead.
"I guess that settles that, then."
He turned and walked away.

Thera's body might have shut down, but her brain had at least a few more seconds - seconds that it was spending fighting off death. She wasn't sure what she was dying from, exactly. Her best guess was that what was really happening was that her body had simply figured out that it should have died decades ago, and it was making up for lost time.
I'm not going to go out like this. Not here. Not now.
Her curse, the curse of the vampire, took further hold. She didn't have the willpower to fight it off, and it took over what was left. Without life support, the soul anchor had stopped functioning, and now there was nothing stopping it.
As it took its hold, she finally understood what it was. It wasn't a curse. It wasn't possession. It wasn't even a transformation. It was just a reflection - the opposite side of the same coin.
As her strength slowly returned to her, words repeated in her head over and over. Not here. Not now. Not here. Not now. Not here. Not now.
Not here. Not ever.
As she stood, she felt more powerful than ever before in her life. Remembering her old skills, she conjured up a shimmering sword.
Alexander had apparently heard what was going on, and he turned to look at her.
"What the hell?"
Thera charged, slashing wide with her weapon. Alexander was fast enough to dodge, but he was clearly unprepared for an actual fight.
"And of course I had to bring one that couldn't fly..." he muttered, jumping backwards. He charged up an energy blast and focused his magic into a shield, going on the defensive until he could figure out how to win this fight.
Thera wasted no time, pressing the attack. Her blade was weakened by the shield he was creating, but it still had enough power to tear him to shreds given the opportunity. But he was too fast for that, and he nimbly dodged every strike she lined up.
When he saw an opportunity, he took it: she had overextended herself on the last attack, and left her defenses open to a counterattack. She reeled when his sword struck her in the chest, puncturing a vital piece of machinery.
That was when she realized an advantage he had: he was familiar with the implants she had received, and he knew how to exploit that knowledge, but his habit of shifting around internal parts between fights made her clueless as to where his critical systems were. But that didn't exactly matter now: even if her cybernetic structure suffered total failure, she had enough raw magic to keep fighting for hours. ...Why is it that I'm completely certain of that? she wondered in the back of her mind.
She dodged out of the way of a follow-up strike and made a counterattack of her own. He ducked and slashed through her left leg, biting deep into her shin. He then pulled back and adopted a defensive stance, planning his next move.
Thera took the opportunity to catch her breath, trying to organize her magic. She had a lot of power now - moreso than any other point in her life, except perhaps during her brief period of Entity-use - but she would have to do a lot better than just making a sharp stick and trying to hit him with it. He was a creative enemy who had lifetimes of combat experience to draw on, and while it was true that brute force was capable of overcoming such opponents, she would need a lot more force for something like that. She needed to be crafty.
She came up with an idea. She created a field of light around her, vanishing from sight.
He was familiar with this particular trick, but that didn't mean he was immune to it. He looked around, trying to figure out where she was.
Sword in hand, she crept around behind him. He was still unaware of her presence, it seemed. She could probably only do this once, so she had to make it count. She lined up a strike, planning to impale him.
But before she could move, he whirled around and slashed at her head. Unprepared and with weakened defenses, she was unable to get out of the way, and her attempt at dodging merely resulted in the blade hitting her shoulder and cutting through the joint.
"After all the times people have tried that and gotten killed doing it, you really thought that it would work?" he asked, incredulous.
She snarled, unleashing a hail of sharp projectiles. He intensified his shield, and the hail fizzled as soon as it got close. Thera was mildly annoyed that it was doing no damage, but it was fulfilling its intended purpose: if he was mustering up the raw willpower to stop magical bombardment without the aid of an anti-magic device, then he wouldn't have the concentration to do much else.
She stopped the attack as abruptly as she had started it, charging forward and attacking while he wasn't doing much do defend himself other than squinting and scowling. He raised his sword to block the attack, and she sliced the blade neatly in half.
He looked at the broken remains of his weapon, useless for just about anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't get far before she continued the attack. This time, he didn't fare too well - Thera managed to cripple his reactor with a well placed stab, following up by targeting his joints, the least well shielded parts of his body, and crippling the rest of him.
He staggered backwards, the broken remains of his weapons still in hand. He tried to activate his weapons, but there wasn't enough power.
Thera gathered energy into a last attack, the finishing blow. He defiantly raised his blade as she released it, charging forward as a blast of magical power disintegrated him piece by piece. As the energy got to his head, the last expression on his face wasn't fear, regret, or even the calm anger he so often exhibited when in battle. It was pure rage.
When he fell to the ground, she readied an attack: he had a history of surviving things that, by all rights, should have killed him, and she wasn't about to take chances. But she released it when the smoke cleared, and she saw him to be nothing more than melted scrap metal and burning carbon, with the remains of his arm still clutching his sword.
Thera nearly fell to the ground, her injuries finally catching up to her. But it didn't matter. He was dead. That was all that mattered.

---

Two weeks later, at the former resistance headquarters

Thera was recovering from her injuries when the news arrived: the United Socialist States of America had collapsed with Alexander's death. Warlords and secret societies engaged in open warfare with each other. Many still advocated for communism, but that didn't stop them from fighting others who said the exact same things. In the words of one aide: "The Second Iron Curtain still exists, but what was once an impenetrable barrier is now nothing more than a rotted picket fence that even a toddler could break down."

A few days later, New Egopolis

A soldier crouched down behind a makeshift barricade, rifle in hand. The enemy had done a number on his armor, but that wouldn't stop him.
That soldier was Yefrem Fedorov, former Minister of War. As the government collapsed, he had taken it upon himself to maintain order in the capital, taking control of national guard units and the militarized police force. But he wasn't expecting to come under siege.
He watched as an unarmed AI walked towards his position. He almost fired, but he didn't want to risk shooting a civilian - and besides, he was running out of bullets anyway.
"Put down your weapon, Fedorov, and let's talk."
He squinted. "What?"
"You are truly a loyal servant, never leaving your post. For that, I congratulate you. But shooting at your employer is a bad plan, is it not?"
He nearly laughed in the machine's face. "You honestly expect me to believe that you're the Dictator?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
He aimed at "Alexander", ready to take it out at a moment's notice. "Have you ever actually met the man? If you had, you'd know why this isn't working."
"I can take any form. You have no knowledge of what face I would-"
"Now let me stop you right there. The thing about Alexander is that he isn't - wasn't - like any other being I have ever met in my life. He had an aura of power and majesty you couldn't ignore, let alone fail to notice. He could take any form, any face, and I would still recognize him in an instant, as would anyone else who had spent more than a few days in his company. When you stood in his presence, you knew who he was, and as I stand in yours, I know that you're no Dictator of mine. No matter how laughably false it might be, the very fact that you claim to be him is an insult to everything he was.
Leave, now, or I start shooting."
The AI was speechless. He hadn't expected this plan to work, but he also hadn't expected it to fail so spectacularly.
He was also not expecting the armor-piercing bullets that tore through his core processor and power pack, killing him in an instant.
"Anyone else want to try and recruit me?" he yelled into the distance. No response.
As minutes stretched into hours with nothing coming his way, he concluded that the enemy forces had likely split up with the death of their leader. He checked the camera feeds, and this was confirmed to be the case: the bulk of the rebel army had retreated, and the few that were left were too busy killing each other to attack the city. He ordered a military unit to deal with them before they could do any damage, no matter how insignificant it might be.
As long as he stood, so would the city, and as long as the city stood, so did the nation. Alexander was dead. America was not.

[Pax Athena]

"SIMULATION FAILED. ATHENIAN DEATH TOLL 30 MILLION, FIRST WEEK. TOTAL DEATH TOLL 1.1 BILLION." The words flashed over and over again in bright red, repeated by a eerily calm voiceover, which was rather redundant, Absalom thought. Replaying the events of the past week or so of computer time, he saw the rather predictable Happylandian invasion of the Daoists. Tanks and hearts of steel, it was an exact replay of the wars of the past few decades. Looking at the strategic map, it was obvious that unless thr Americans could pull a miracle out of their various organs a victory was almost certainly a pipe dream. Yet still, a billion had just died and he had failed to protect 30 million from nuclear hellfire. It was a tiring job, puppeteering the cabinet and trying to avert global war and catastrophe all at once.

Perhaps we are doomed to this endless cycle of war, Absalom pondered. It is clear through historical analysis that humans, when left to their own devices form tribes just so that they can poke the other with sharp sticks, or in this case, nuclear tipped sticks. Hiding behind flags and ideas as an excuse to express their baser urges perhaps. That simply makes his job, averting another world war, more tiresome.

The world as of now is in a state of uneasy equilibrium. An unstable equibrilium as it happens. The Trifecta is bonded through a messylink of magical political marriages, long standing political alliances, and (perhaps despite of) cultural nationalism. Yet this combined provides just a decent counterweight to the sheer scale of the USSA, headed by the postmodern antihero, Alexander. Amusingly, it may actually be collapsing under it's own weight, what with anarchists and democrats. Still Absalom wouldn't bet against Alexander.

"Computer, close simulation." The virtual holoscape of nuclear wasteland was replaced by the observation deck of a cloaked Athenian voidship.

A notification came to his attention: Priority 1 Emergency.

In the voidlike darkness of the deck, the strategist's face was lit only by the yellow hologram. A frown spread as he processed what he was seeing. But then something unpredented happened. Something as rare as a blue moon. Absalom smiled. A predatory gaze of a hunter sensing an opportunity.

Many compared the equilibrium to a house of cards, teetering on the edge of collapse. But they never learnt: as long as you make it collapse on someone else, preferably your enemy, it is always a good idea to poke at the house of cards. Sure, it may be a chaotic system, but chaos can be exploited, even if uncontrollable.

"Captain. Transfer comms to laser comlinks. Contact Alvin, direct to me. Move the military to maximum alert, yes - the whole thing. Mobilise if necessary."

Americans are finally about to learn after such a long time, what democracy really means.

[Pax Athena]

A menace had wreaked havoc in the country around New Egopolis. A bright red masked figure, cloaked by a deeper shade of red known only on the flag of the Old America. Bullets apparently fly past him, and he is known to appear behind hyperalert, heavily armed infantry, notably being the last thing they see, as they are slammed by a hammer, or alternately, decapitated by a sickle.

In the dark night, the red cloak flew as the Spectre of Communism, the Red Menace made his silent way towards an Alexander holdout. Killing commies was surprisingly difficult, given their large numbers nullifying the effect of his fear based tactics. Still, it was amusing to see soldiers shoot each other in panic, to be followed by more friendly fire in retaliation.

A comms message from orbit: "How goes the mission?" The modified voice said dispassionately.

"I'm not enjoying my new stint as Communist Spiderman, Commander. How many times have I mentioned the impracticality of a hammer and sickle paired as melee weapons?"

The dispassionate voice became noticably less dispassionate. "Well, I'll admit it was an idea we'd come up after one too many beers."

"And the Chief authorised this? I prefer my old armour. Bright red and yellow attracts attention, would you believe?"

"It creates a destabilising effect to have such a symbol, my friend." By now, the dispassionate voice was entirely not dispassionate. "You'll strike fear in their little red hearts."

"Somehow I doubt that. At least we're achieving objectives. How goes the preparation?"

"Quick. We've been rambling on for decades about a proper war, the young ones want one."

"You mean the idiots who haven't an iota of what war is like?"

"Well, the AI's have their immersion simulation."

"It's nothing like the real thing."

As the dis-dispassionate voice interjected, Aimato repeated. "Nothing."

[Finswedeway]

Li retired as the most controversial public figure in Suongo history, leaving the government in ruins but the nation and economy stronger than ever before. When the Houses assembled this foggy morning, debate as to who would take up the position of Konesuler continue to go nowhere. Possible candidates could not even be agreed upon within the parties themselves. This halt of all progress has caused previously mentioned stirs within the army, not receiving any funds, but also among the people, disappointed that their parties have failed to come to agreement even with each other. Just outside the Tower of Representatives, a large coalition of disgruntled voters had gathered to demonstrate their discontent when a tall, vaguely recognized bearded man with piercing silver eyes pushed past them and entered the building.

He climbed the stairs to the top of the tower, where the shouting of both the feuding Representatives and demonstrators could both be heard clearly. As he reached the tops of the steps, he took a second to consider. The man stood in front of the point of no return. Before him was the large, imposing door to the Grand Hall, the light of the large chandelier which hung from the ceiling of the Hall shone through the bottom of the door, which itself was engraved with a mural of the story of this building and this door. Suongo took their doors seriously, the man thought to himself with a slight chuckle. No system had been put in place to call new elections a second time, as never before had a stalemate in government lasted more than even a few weeks. Usually, Suongo were either extremely united in their voting or killing each other. This very aspect of Suongo culture disgusted the man. Never again. If a few stately, corrupt men of power had to die so that a civil war could be avoided, so be it. He looked at the box he held in his hands and took a deep breath, pushing open the door.

The Representatives of the Houses stopped their bickering for a moment to look at this intruder. The Man stood above them at the top of the stairs that led down to the center of the Grand Hall, all along these stairs were the seats at which the Representatives would sit. Light came in from the stained glass windows lining the top floor of the tower, which seemed to focus on him. This prolonged moment of confused silence was broken by the sound of the man opening the box and pulling out an elaborate crown of emerald and diamond. He placed the crown on his head and calmly yet firmly proclaimed, “Sie dianuast Tokaya Zhen mi, eide Denka-Dai. Des Hass av Reprezhentanteren solnt ist.”
“They call me Tokaya Zhen, your Emperor. The House of Representatives is dissolved.”
The shock of this exclamation permeated through the room. One Phoenix Front Rep rose and asked, “By what authority do you exercise this power?”
“This one.” He pointed to his crown. “And if that’s not enough for you…” He let out a spark of electricity from his hand that echoed with the sound of thunder off the windows. On perfect cue, a dozen MEC Officers, armed with intimidating gauss rifles which whirred with energy. Undai Gioro stepped forward and spoke, holding up his badge which set him apart from any other Officer.
“The Mother Earth’s Corps has deemed this House a threat to public safety. Des Denka-Dai Av Alles Suongo shall be stepping in. Surrender quietly and your lives will be spared to be judged in court.”

--

Akako tore through Swedish guards and soldiers with her twin blades of fury.
“HANS!” She called out with rage. The masked vampire glimmered in and out of view as she slit their throats and bathed in their blood. She slowly worked her way through the Palace, painting the golden halls red all along the way. Meanwhile, Hans watched from afar, carefully studying the scene from the security cameras. He sighed. This won't be the last time this will happen, no doubt. He summoned a portal in Akako's way as she stepped forward to gut yet another one of his men, and then stepped through his own portal he conjured next to him.

They both stood on a flat rock next to some snowy fjords. Icy salt water waves sprayed upwards as they crashed against the black rock. Hans stood with a red satin cape blowing in the wind, his sword sheathed but glowing red with his mother’s energy.
“Hans! Give me the sword!” Akako shouted from the other side of the rock platform. “This is your last chance before I redefine the word, 'filicide'!”
“I really shouldn't have hired those guards, they were just fuel to your fire it seems.” Hans said to himself as he drew his sword. The large, blood-red gem in the pommel gave a terrible aura, the very sight of which weakened Akako. “You mean this sword? The one you gave me?”
Akako stepped forward, entering an offensive stance with the point of her sword pointed at her enemy's throat. “I didn't give you anything. You took what was mine from under my nose.”
“It's not like you were using it.” Hans retorted. “Look, all I've done is take what I deserve: the sword I inherited, the Empire I created, and now, your life.”
“You can't kill what's long dead.”
Hans glared, entering a stance ready to pounce on her mother.
“Watch me.” He said grimly.
Hans jumped forward and Akako prepared to parry, but before the Tyrant appeared a dark portal suddenly. She then felt a presence behind her and she turned around as fast as she could to block the incoming attack, but to no avail. The strike fell down upon her from above like a holy vengeance, and her sword raised in defense gave way. The blow landed true on her face, tearing her traditional samurai mask off and leaving a dark red cut from her brow to upper lip.
She jumped back as quickly as she took the hit. Hans must know by now, she figured, that the more blood drawn in this fight, the more powerful she became. This would explain why a frustration grew in Hans as she jumped away and manipulated her own blood to her benefit. She assumed her former defensive stance as they traded places on the flat rock that was their arena. Hans simply walked forward, his blade resting on his shoulder. Akako was taller than Hans by nearly ten inches, but never before has she felt so small, so powerless. Her only hope was to take more non-lethal hits, a dangerous gamble. Hans feinted an attack with his blade coming to her left, and as she moved to parry it, she exposed her right side. The stately King let loose a ball of flames and plasma with his other hand, searing into her clothes and exposing some of her skin. As a follow up, he drew a small dagger from his waist as soon as the orb left his hand and drove it up into her now unprotected gut.
She let out a shriek of pain as he twisted the knife inside her. Hans wasn’t sure exactly which organ he was tearing apart, but he knew it did some significant damage. After a short moment of this exchange, her eyes turned fully red, and she bore her fangs. Akako let her weapons fall to the rocky ground as she pulled Hans into an unholy embrace, her teeth sinking into his throat and nearly ripping out his jugular.
Hans stumbled back as she threw her off of him, placing a hand on the significant wound and shot at her an enraged scowl. The Vampire Mother forcefully tore the dagger out of her liver and diaphragm. She gave short thanks to whatever god she could think of at the time that the blade just missed her lungs and heart, among the few organs she actually needed, though took notice that her control over her breathing was significantly hampered by the hit. She looked over at Hans and realized something. She took a deep, labored breath before running forward, picking up her weapons along the way and opening her own portal. She employed Hans’ own tactics, reappearing out of a portal behind him and stabbing him in the chest with all the momentum of a charging bull.
Hans now skewered on her two blades, she tore them out at an angle, tearing through his ribs and muscles along the way. He collapsed, nearly cut in half from behind.
His once elegant robe was in tatters, shreds of it on the wet ground. Akako stepped forward and tugged on his blonde hair. With his head up and neck exposed, she slowly drew her katana across the front of his throat, choking Hans on his own blood.

Knowing full well that Hans was a vampire now, Akako wasted no time in removing the gem from his sword and pocketing it. She felt a surge of energy, like she had never experienced before, as her wounds rapidly healed. Then, Hans’ lifeless corpse seemed to feed on the blood that had formed a pool in the middle of the rocky platform. He slowly stood up, skin pale and eyes red. His breathing quickened as he was filled with unbridled, hysterical ire. He turned around swiftly and conjured an ephemeral blade in his hands, which he used to swing wildly and without end at his mother. Akako simply dodged the attacks with ease, backing up with each attack until she stood on the edge of the platform.
“I’ve got what I came here for. Have fun with your little Empire.” She giggled in pity at her son’s anger as she took another step back, disappearing into a portal at the base of the platform that she had summoned.

Hans stood there, alone, his word not yet fulfilled. He stared blankly at the waves, his eyes welling up with furious tears. The Unholy King dropped to his knees, and called out to his mother in one long, drawn out howl.
“MOTHER!” He cried, his voice echoing through the fjords and being drowned out by the rampageous waves crashing around him. He wailed for perhaps several hours, before rising to his feet. He picked up Akako’s mask which lied on the ground. His rage grew even more as he crushed it in his hands. Never again, he vowed, would he be humiliated like this. He will be the strongest warrior on Earth or die bravely, or foolishly, trying.

[Evil Dictators Happyland]

Thera looked up at the light above her, squinting into it, trying to focus on something. Voices echoed in her mind, but she wasn't sure whether she was just hearing them now or whether they were a distant memory.
"She's been drifting in and out of consciousness." one of them said. "She's dying, but we don't know why - even still, that's hardly our largest problem concerning her health."
"What do you mean?" a second voice replied.
"I mean that we don't understand why she's alive in the first place. Her organs have already failed to the point that any other human would be dead now, and we only bought the 'cybernetics' explanation for so long.
According to our instruments, there's a powerful magical force sustaining her life, but we don't know where it's coming from. Even though she has the machinery to use magic without a power gauntlet - according to her technical readout, she can do that even unconscious - her life force is far too weak to sustain anything like what we're seeing.
I'll do some more research, though I don't know how much time we have. It's only a matter of time before the loyalists figure out that we have her here."
The voices and the light faded away, and she found herself in a room. She recognized it as her old office, the one she had fought the Third Swarm War from. A conference table with a huge computer screen for its top dominated the room. Only two people occupied it: herself, and an indistinct shape on the other side.
A voice spoke, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Hello, Thera. We have much to discuss.
Thera was concerned, but for some reason not scared. "Who... what are you? What is this?"
I am you, just as you are me. What was it you said earlier? 'The opposite side of the same coin'? I suppose that's an apt description - you're heads, I'm tails, and this room is the space in between.
But I didn't come here to discuss psychology. I came to tell you something.
"And what might that be?" she replied, unimpressed.
You're being an idiot.
"...What?"
The figure stood up, materializing further. It was clear that it was female, but its features remained obscure.
Your blessing - or curse, depending on how you look at it - is sustaining your life, but it is draining your soul to power itself. You need to find a proxy, a simulacrum, or it will consume you entirely.
Thera had a suspicion she knew what this thing was talking about. It knew that she knew, and so it pressed on.
If you do not drain the life force of another human within the next few days, you will be destroyed entirely.
"To be completely honest, I think I might take that over eating somebody."
That's a very good point, but the thing is, you don't really have a choice in the matter. The blessing has already drained your spirit to near non-existence, and it has begun attacking your mind. That's the reason I can appear to you now, but it is also something you should be wary of, no matter what path you elect to take.
Given only a little more time, it will devour your sense of reason. You will turn into a restless berserker, killing and devouring all in your path until your hunger is sated. Is it not best to feed now, while you still have control over who your victim is, instead of simply waiting for the inevitable?
Thera tried to speak, but the figure interrupted her.
Regardless, it is time to wake up. Our little chat has consumed enough time, and you have work to do.
The figure took a seat once more, and the conference room dissolved.

Thera opened her eyes to a most unwelcome sight: a gun barrel in her face.
"Yeah, it's her." the soldier spoke into his radio. "She's asleep, probably comatose."
The radio squawked. The soldier replied: "I kinda feel bad about this, you know? Traitor or otherwise, it just feels wrong."
The radio squawked again.
"Understood."
He turned to Thera, surprised to find her awake.
"...How much of that did you hear?" he asked.
"Enough."
She sprung upwards, tacking him. As the two hit the ground, she heard bones pop and break under the strain. He punched upward, trying to hir her in the face, so she did the natural thing and bit him on his forearm.
He tried to pull away, his movements becoming weaker and weaker as she drained his life force. She felt her strength return to her, the same feeling that she had experienced during her fight with Alexander.
When she was satisfied, she let go, the soldier limply dropping to the floor. The radio came to life once again, and this time, she could hear what it said. The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"Judging from the screaming, you put up a better fight than Sergeant Mason was expecting."
Thera wiped her mouth. "That seems to be an apt description."
"Well, it should please you to know that I won't be sending any more soldiers. I'm coming for you myself."
The radio went dead. Thera considered running, but she didn't know how bulletproof she was, and a bloodstained hospital gown probably wouldn't help that much. Besides, she didn't know where exactly she was, and if this place had been overrun by government troops, then it was unlikely that she could find safety by running in a random direction and hoping for the best.
She was still thinking about the topic when the door swung open. An armored warrior stood in the doorway, holding a curved sword.
He was graying under stress and age, and he was missing an eye. Both his weapons and the man wielding them had obviously seen better days. But she finally recognized him: He was one of Alexander's bodyguards.
The two made eye contact, and he was taken aback. "...I wasn't expecting this."
She continued to think, trying to place his name. "Expecting what?"
"You to be a vampire, for one thing. I also wasn't expecting you to be unarmed."
He drew a second sword, smaller than the first, but with less damage. He tossed it to her, and she caught it. She turned it over in her hand and admired the metalwork: the sword lacked the signs of machining, which meant that it was probably one of the only handmade swords still used in battle, and definitely the only one on the continent.
"So, why exactly are you doing this?" she asked.
"Because I still recall an ancient concept that has apparently been forgotten by the warriors of the modern age: that of honor."
"Which is why you ordered that guy to kill me in my sleep."
He frowned. "That order was not mine, and the one who gave it has been transferred to the front lines."
"Makes sense. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"
She charged at him, slashing high at his neck. He stepped backward and stabbed upward, trying to catch her in the air, but she dodged to the left and stabbed him in the side. He jumped into the hall and brought his katana down hard on Thera, catching her in the arm. It clashed against a force field that manifested itself slightly above her skin. She wrenched her sword out of his side and stabbed him where the neck and shoulder met. He jumped backward, dropping his sword. Blood poured down his jet black armor, causing some circuitry to fizzle and die.
"That was something important, wasn't it?" she playfully asked, pressing the attack. He blocked with an armored forearm, catching the sword in a slab of metal.
He grunted and ripped the sword out of her hand. He kicked the sword he had dropped into the air, catching it with his good hand.
"Before I was a politician, I was a medic. Because of that, I know exactly how much blood someone can lose and survive, and I know that you're about to go past that red line. I respect you, and I'm not particularly hungry, so call off your soldiers and I'll let you live.
The samurai paused. He shouted something in Japanese, and raised his sword for a defiant last stand.
"And where might I have seen that before..." she muttered. Focusing her magic, she hit him with a powerful psychokinetic blast. He fell to the ground, unconscious.
Grumbling about bushido, Thera bent down and bit into his neck, draining out his soul. Within moments, he was dead.
She cast her cloaking spell, vanishing into thin air. Time to find her stuff.

---

The remnants of the Imperial Guards sat at a conference table with acting American military leadership.
"Run me through what happened one more time, Kadek."
The cyborg didn't speak, and simply played a recording of the report.

A small force of soldiers was sent into this hospital, as it had been confirmed that the traitor Thera Anderson was present and recovering from her wounds following her duel with Alexander. When we arrived, the hospital was largely empty, with only Thera still present.
When we found her, a kill order was sent out, but the soldier who attempted to carry this out was killed, along with a small unit of soldiers sent to guard the building. Among this unit was Captain Kobayashi of the Red Guards.
Upon hearing of this, nearby military units went into a panic and initiated a brief but intense artillery bombardment of the hospital before being ordered to stop by superior officers. A headcount was done, indicating the loss of all the soldiers who entered the building, as well as most of a squad of infantry to the southwest: of the original five soldiers in the squad, only one was alive, and he was found hiding, saying something about a "bloodthirsty phantom". While it is improbable that he was referring to Thera, it is apparent that something came out of that hospital, and it should not be underestimated.

"What I think is most likely," mused one of the generals, "is that Thera was too wounded to move, and so they left behind something to guard her, probably an advanced combat android of some description."
Kadek frowned as he recovered more information. "Relevant addition: The bodies of the destroyed squad were found with what appeared to be deep bite marks, as well as near complete blood loss."
"Probably a vampire, then. Either way, Thera is most likely dead, and if she isn't, she has stopped affecting events in any meaningful way. I'd be more concerned about the 'bloodthirsty phantom'. We're already dealing with the Red Menace slaughtering our troops left and right, the last thing we need is another one."