Hey everyone! Thanks for the awesome reviews! :) I hope you all are having a great day (or night, if you live in a different timezone, haha). And if you're not, then I hope this can brighten your mood. ;) So just sit and read and let the words caress you... Is that weird?


Chapter 2: Greetings, From the Kinimods

A shadow loomed over the smiling pair as their foreheads were pressed against each other, an after effect from the kiss. Taking note of the sudden darkness that replaced the warming light, Aelita's smile faded along with Jeremie's. Averting her eyes upwards, her lips formed into a full-on frown, seeking a man about their age with a black fedora atop his head.

"I'm sorry, but I think it's time for me to interrupt this... heartwarming moment," the mysterious man said, the words coming out of his mouth like venom. His amber eyes hovered over to Aelita. "Frolicking in the meadows... That isn't very responsible, Aelita. Being the Queen of two continents, I expect better from you. Maybe we should... relieve you of your duties."

The novice Queen widened her eyes; that last sentence froze her in place as the cold realization sunk in. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end as the words took form inside her mind, and her hands became moist and clammy. She couldn't believe it. After all this hardship, who would've thought...

This man is out to kill her.

"Aelita, stand back!" Jeremie commanded, placing his body in front of hers. Reaching into his pant pockets, he pulled out two daggers, the metal glinting in the sunlight. Being in Eurasia's Army for almost two years, it became almost traditional to stay equipped with weapons. You'll never know when you'll get stuck in a situation like this.

The man's face never changed the slightest bit. Not a muscle moved. It continued to hold that calm, monotonous expression, as if he didn't see the daggers at all. Jeremie remained undaunted, of course, as he kept up with his fighting stance, his daggers in hand. That is, until the man pulled out a weapon of his own from the inside of his coat.

It's sleek black exterior reflected the sunlight, taking on a vitreous luster. His white finger hovered over the trigger, the barrel ready to launch.

And it was pointed at Jeremie's skull.

"Look," the man said, his eyebrows scrunching the slightest bit. "I didn't come here to fight, but if you must point those useless implements at me, then so be it."

He snapped his fingers.

Thirty or so of his companions clothed in matching black garments appeared from behind the hedges, all equipped with swords, clubs, or axes. Seeing this, sweat began to pour from Jeremie's brow, and his arms slightly quivered.

Slowly, but cautiously, Jeremie reluctantly lowered his weapons.

"Thank you," the man said coolly, depositing the gun into his coat.

Jeremie clenched his fists. "Who are you?!" he asked with prominent hostility. "No one has seen a gun since the beginning of World War III!" The word tasted foul in his mouth. It was like something that didn't belong. Something so foreign and illegal, that no one even dare mention that kind of device anymore.

Except for one.

King Dominik.

Jeremie widened his eyes. He didn't know what to feel. The nostalgia and anger came crashing down on him again this second, fueling his muscles with the itch to kill this guy. He clenched his fists tighter until he drew blood from his palms as his eyes shot imaginary arrows in the man's direction.

Jeremie heard a thud from behind him, and it was no doubt Aelita falling to the ground from the same realization. He didn't bother helping her because he needed to stay his ground. These guys are after her spot on the throne.

"Y-you're..." Jeremie started, unable to fish those simple words from his mind. "You're working.. for King Dominik, aren't you?"

The man smirked in response. "Glad you noticed," he said. "But I wouldn't exactly call it working for him, because he's dead, don't you forget. We're more like... his heirs who plan to take control of the continent as the new patriarchs and matriarchs of Eurasia.. after we get rid of you pests, of course. We call ourselves the Kinimods."

"And why are you guys here? To kill us?"

"Not you," the man replied, moving his eyes away from Jeremie. "Little Aelita, of course." He moved his eyes over the pinkette again, smirking when he found her unconscious. "With her out of the picture, anyone can inherit the throne, because she has no children to be her successor. Though I know you would just love to remedy that."

Jeremie felt the color rise to his cheeks. His eyes widened as he took meaning of the pun.

Keep it cool, Jeremie, this guy is just trying to get to you.

"Oh look at that..." the man taunted, looking into Jeremie's eyes. "How immature of you to blush like that. A stern fighter like you shouldn't feel embarrassed by the slightest of puns!" He took fighting stance, clenching his fists. "We're taking the girl."

Jeremie relaxed again as the true purpose dawned on him. He took fighting stance as well, his daggers in hand. "Not on my watch."

"And not on ours, either."

Jeremie quickly scanned his surroundings. An outer layer of soldiers stood around the Kinimods, and it was to his joy when he found them to be Aelita's castle guards.

In response to the sudden appearance of the militia, the man just looked at Jeremie, giving him a 'this isn't over' look. Then, he took out a few orbs of a mysterious substance and threw them to the ground, a brief poof! echoing in everyone's ears. Mushrooms of smoke appeared and encompassed everyone, and by the time it cleared out...

The Kinimods were gone.

Jeremie looked around and found Aelita's guards to be just as surprised as he.

They have explosives as well..


#625 got off her black moped as she took her helmet off, releasing her long locks of hair to fall freely around her shoulders. She just spent the last hour traveling miles across Spain to arrive at the manhole that would eventually lead her back to headquarters, and now her butt is sore and she felt lightheaded from all the wind crashing mercilessly against her face. She currently wore a tight pair of skinny jeans and an oversized sweater, required disguise to draw suspicion away from her; after all, a normal young adult beats a reconnoiter in a contest of innocency any day.

Dropping her backpack onto the blanket of grass, she peered into it and scrounged for that particular catsuit that she planned to change back into. Wringing her fingers through her knotted hair, she rolled it up into the usual bun and tucked it into the pirate cap that would reliably keep her face free of stray hairs. She then unzipped out of the jeans and stripped out of the sweater, replacing them with the comfortable spandex that enabled her body to move freely again. She didn't understand normal teen fashion. It wasn't very practical.

Once back in uniform, #625 exhaled a sigh of relief. She chained her moped to the bike rack, where it will blend in with all the others, and then searched for that inconspicuous manhole. When she found it, she lifted the rusted metal cover to reveal the ladder that led down the confined tunnel, and entered it, carefully supporting her feet and hands with the also rusty handlebars. When she was halfway down, her ears met with the familiar sound of trickling water, and then sooner or later, her feet met the ground again.

Like Dashiel, she performed her duties specially in Spain, and occasionally, in other countries as well, if extra profession is needed. Being at the top of the whole undercover agent field, she had that extra opportunity. This is to her advantage, of course, because she just loved her job.

Even though it was immoral in so many ways.

Walking through the sewer tunnels, she crossed paths with fellow spies, all wearing the same black spandex in different styles. Most of them are probably coming back from their recent shifts.

Shifts which contained dirty work pertaining to those 'warriors.'

#625 climbed up the second ladder which guided her way into the center of headquarters. She hoped endlessly that Dashiel got the job done. After all, she had her part of the deal: divided power over Eurasia.

Without warning, the alarms blared, Dashiel's irking way of calling everyone to the stadium for an urgent meeting.


Author's Note: Well, I hope you guys liked it! :) I'm sorry for the longer-than-usual wait (for a chapter as short as this). I just wanted to be at least one chapter ahead when I'm writing, so that I'll know what's happening next and I will be sure that this is the official chapter (not doing this was what caused the disaster of the first one). :) Mostly because I hate to go back and heavily edit chapters that have already been posted. That's one of the things on my 'Don't Do's,' or whatever you call it list.. Grammatical mistakes, spelling errors, and other typos are exceptions. LOL. Feel free to review, guys! They make me happy and peak my motivation to write! :)