The day was hot and the sky clear when the siblings were finally given the details and go-signal for their first operation.
Lelouch had been sitting quite far from Nunnally as usual, an act that made him uncomfortable in doing. He'd heard the beeping sounds from within the Morgana, prompting him to respond immediately by quickly scaling the seven-meter high Knightmare.
He had ignored Nunnally, whom he had placed underneath the Morgana, and who now dozed fitfully in the shade. Cursing himself for his oversight, he clambered back down, carefully picking up his sister and carrying him up to her cockpit.
"Nii-sama?" Nunnally had woken up.
"Subject N." The boy's voice tried to be harsh. "I am Subject R. right now, Subject N. Please watch yourself and your words."
"Oh, right, I'm sorry..." the girl's face, which had been relieved at her brother's touch, was now troubled, a frown crossing the beautiful face.
"No," Lelouch's voice continued gratingly. "You have nothing to apologize for, Subject N."
By the time the two had been settled into their cockpits, they were informed by the man that they had been three minutes late for the summons, though strangely enough, there was no verbal reprimand. Conversely, the man's voice seemed to be excited as it informed the siblings of the details of their first live mission.
An hour later, the Morgana started to move towards its destination, using the cover of the mountains as was recommended by Lelouch. They arrived at the designated place at nearly the end of the day, although much of the journey had been disembarking to refill the Morgana's energy reserves.
"13/20 Energy Fillers consumed. Current energy at approximately 43% remaining. Let us camp here for now, Subject N., to conserve the Morgana's reserves."
"Yes, S-s-s-ubject R.", the little girl nervously stuttered in her cockpit.
It had been a backbreaking day for the boy, as he alone was the only one capable of going out of the cockpit and refitting the energy filler. Then again, it had been Nunnally who had been driving the Morgana, keeping it under low cover throughout the journey.
"It's fine, Nunnally. It's nighttime now."
"Really? That's good then, isn't it, nii-sama?", the girl said hopefully.
For his part, Lelouch fought the urge to reach out into his sister's cockpit and hug her furiously, forgetting himself. But there was another part, a major part that thought it was hopeless and worthless to do so. Bringing his eyes to the viewscreen, he input a few more lines of code into the program he'd been developing, after which he proceeded to exit the cockpit.
Immediately, he was afflicted by a great, pungent scent, overwhelming and nearly paralyzing him as he coughed violently. Throat burning and eyes watering, he barely had the strength to reach back into his cockpit for the emergency breathing mask and put it on. Although the smell was subdued, it was still there, faintly, seemingly composed of all the foul odors that man and nature could conjure.
After informing Nunnally about the condition outside, he escaped into his cockpit to review information on their future battlefield. As the images from the briefing streamed in, he was aware of a certain dull feeling in his emotions, an aura of resignation emanating from him as he read on.
The place where they had hidden themselves close by was apparently a shanty town. It had been established upon the ashes of a destroyed city - a remnant of a bygone war. From the briefing, Lelouch had ascertained that they were now in Africa, as it had described in detail the presence of numerous resident gangs that currently divided the town amongst themselves.
The town in itself was not special; its inhabitants were only connected to the outside world by means of a lone bridge that lead to the national highway, a bridge that changed hands in an almost daily occurrence. What apparently interested the voice in the town, as Lelouch guessed from the information, was the presence of pseudo-Knightmare Frames: piecemeal junkbots made from the stolen bits and pieces of Glasgow carcasses. It was with these things that the gangs tried to assert their authority over the others; giving rise to the little wars that now defined the inhabitant's daily happenings.
After reading through the information and analyzing the town's geography, Lelouch next scanned through the data on the custom Glasgows that would be under his control. Their familiar designation and numbers sent the boy's eyebrows soaring, a fact that would have amused him greatly under happier circumstances.
"...the Morgana will be responsible for destroying over 50% of the enemy units: any less and I will consider the mission a failure. A failure, as you well know, that will need a proper reprimand..."
Nunnally had listened to the words with dry acquiescence. It had been almost a year since she'd started to realize the fact that the simulations had been training her to kill enemy pilots, and it had taken that same amount of time to inure her to this fact.
For the girl, there was nothing wrong with bloodying her hands; there was nothing that would stand in the way of spending her entire time with her dear brother. All these atrocities that she would have to commit – violence that scarred her each time she did so, she sealed within. Her outrage at this defilement of her inner being was smothered by obstinate denial.
Yes, if it is for nii-sama's sake...
Nunnally did not mind the hateful fact of having to call her brother by an alien name. She did not mind that he was somewhat cold and aloof to her at times, because she knew that it would be replaced with undying warmth sometime in the future.
So it's no problem at all...I'll show them...I'll show them what I can accomplish...
Nunnally's hands tightened on the cockpit controls.
"Nunnally, if you want to rest, you can sleep now. I still have some things to prepare."
"Yes, nii-sama. Be sure to get your good night's sleep too, okay?"
For tonight, she decided to sleep inside; from the knowledge about the foul air from her brother, she preferred to have an untroubled sleep before their mission - even if it was spent huddled over the Morgana's controls.
And in the darkness, there is a light. The light reveals once again...scenes of a happier past.
The boy sits on the roof, shrouded in a long brown cloak that shielded him from the cold night. The cloak is wrapped around his mouth to block out the constant pungent air that had imbued the town.
The boy watches his prey amble in, drunk with ecstasy and looking forward to another day of bloodbath. He would never experience another wild night, for tonight he would be drunk in the scent of his own blood.
The boy descends into the man's room where he waits, crouched in a corner like a tiger in the tall grass. He waits for the man's drunken footsteps, barely flinching at the gunshots that resounded.
The boy hears him coming, boots jingling, voice singing an obscene melody. The door opens, allowing the man to amble in, movement slow and jarred, holding a bottle in one hand and a gun in the other.
The boy attacks, flinging his cloak at the man as the door closes. He hears the man curse, gun cocked audibly. The man, for a split second, flings away the cloak, aiming his gun at the intruder.
The boy hits deep, crude knife stolen from the man's guards embedded deep in the latter's neck. The blade is twisted as the man collapses to the floor in a bloody heap, brown cloak shrouding his dying frame like a funeral veil.
The boy leaves the way he comes, through the window and up to the roof. Just then, an ill wind passes, fluttering the boy's sandy hair as he looks for his new objective. The boy notices a glint in his vision, and stares briefly at the mountains where it had come from. The boy's eyes narrow, the carnation pupils gleaming in the starlit darkness.
The scorching heat that would engulf them on the day of operations would be an uncomfortable handicap for the two would-be Devicers as they were forced to bake inside tight compartments within their massive Knightmare Frame.
The units that Lelouch would take command of had been delivered earlier in the pre-dawn hours via low-flying aircraft. The operator of the Siege Perilous had taken the rest of the hours before sunrise to acquaint himself with these specialized Glasgows - as he'd been taught to do.
They were, as he read about yesterday, ten in number, with their designations and roles very similar to what had been set out for him back in the simulations. For instance, the two "Rooks" were still the heavy fire support, carrying artillery packs that would prove useful in the coming engagement. The "Bishops" still specialized in pinpoint Knightmare sniping, the "Knights" with their focus on melee weaponry and then of course, the "Pawns" were the same hardy, conventional six-pack that they had been.
For now, following the battle plan he'd laid out for this mission, he had the little pieces stealthily move into position, consuming an entire energy filler in the process. This predicament had fallen well into his allotments for the mission, which was why before they could begin, he and Nunnally stood by within their respective cockpits - now turned into virtual furnaces with the deactivation of the Morgana.
Sweat dripping slowly down her nape, Nunnally kept her hands firmly gripped on the controls, waiting for her brother's signal to strike. As the Mind's Eye could only be turned on with the activation of the Morgana, for now she was left in complete darkness inside the sweltering cockpit.
She had avidly listened to the battle plan laid out by her brother, dictated softly over the communications link.
"Subject - no, Nunnally...I hope you can do well...I know you can do well." her brother had concluded.
She heart had swelled at this now-rare occurrence of her brother calling her by her name again, and was also delighted at his obvious concern - a feeling that had been transmitted well through the sound waves.
Outwardly, one would say that the girl was calm and composed - ready for the battle that she would participate in. Inwardly, however, she was a bit nervous: the massive Knightmare that she was told would easily rip enemies to shreds up close and at range could just as well serve as her brother's coffin, if she made the wrong moves.
And that was how and why she steeled herself for success in the mission - the safeguard of her brother's safety.
What Lelouch was waiting for, peering through the window of his cockpit, were the signs of conflict between the gangs: any signs of gunfire or rusted metal crashing against each other would be the go-signal for the operation to start.
It had been one of the conditions that was needed to lead the way for further ones to be cleared, for he was severely limited by the Morgana's operation time. With a bare twenty-one minutes, the model would have to execute its goals quickly within that timeframe, factoring in the time spent ordering the pieces about and of course, extracting out. It would be extremely risky to consider refilling the energy manually in the middle of the battlefield – the Morgana would turn into a literal sitting duck if he did so.
And that would leave Nunnally defenseless without him, easy prey for the depraved beings that made this town their lethal playground. And that was a possibility he did not want to factor in his plan
Almost an hour later of drudging in his own sweat, consuming an entire bottle of rationed water in the process, the signal he was looking for finally came.
A plume of smoke marked where an explosion had occurred, and with its appearance came the predictable sounds of combat seconds later as the pseudo-Knightmares roared to life. Down there, it even Lelouch's unaided eyes could see the swarm of humanoid figures beginning their daily genocide.
He activated the commlink, signaling Nunnally. "Subject N. It's time to begin."
"...Yes."
With a mechanical hiss as countless mechanical joints shifted, the crouched Knightmare rose to its full height, crimson eyes glowing to signal its awakening. Its grisly golden claws glinted in the harsh sunlight as they were stretched by their master. Factspheres, four in total, opened up where they were around the conical structure on its body, emitting a distinct noise as they did so. The Landspinners that had been tucked behind the mech's legs lowered to the ground with an audible thud.
In her cockpit, Nunnally tensed as the Mind's Eye activated fully, the brightly colored images of the town blooming in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she then gripped the controls with hands that were tingling with anxiety.
Inside the rapidly activating Siege Perilous, Lelouch watched the ongoing information being displayed on the screen. He rubbed his hands as the wide, complicated keyboard moved slowly into place, eagerly awaiting his touch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, probably giving himself a form of self-assurance, before readying his hands on the keys.
"Core energy currently at 98%. Estimated time remaining: twenty minutes and thirty-nine seconds. All units, we have the green signal." His fingers began tapping on the keys rapidly.
"Begin operation!"
It had been a simple dispute: a gang's boss had been found dead, knife buried deep in his neck, and his former subordinates cast suspicious glances on their arch-rivals. Calling upon their allies, they had taken the initiative in destroying the first of the enemy robots. It would become their first and easiest kill.
The other unaffiliated gangs refrained from joining in, claiming disinterest - a position undoubtedly belonging to their leaders. The currently warring gangs did not mind: the city had turned into a battlefield all the same.
The pseudo-hangars belonging to the clans were filled with the sounds of the machinery activating, of guns swiftly being loaded with ammunition and of the sounds of hulking strides as the mechs moved out.
The great creaking robots lumbered into their positions, taking whatever cover they could find and firing their improvised weapons when they could find a target, any target.
Soon, the smell of burning diesel filled the air as the battle went on, fires raging unchecked on robot carcasses as they exploded loudly in an inglorious fashion. If the fires died out, these would later be cannibalized by survivors - if there were any.
A particularly monstrous robot was brought out by one gang, its driver the gangleader himself. It strode into the fray, shoulder-mounted cannons blazing and gigantic buzzsaw whirring menacingly. It had just disposed of its third kill, operator cackling maniacally, before it happened.
The driver's battle-hardened senses could discern a whistling sound, of something sailing through the air, but he was too late to discover what it as an artillery shell shattered his robot and the area around him.
Before the ones nearby could collect themselves from the sudden death of their leader, another barrage had sailed through, crashing into more of their number. The rapid destruction of so many robots at once alerted the remaining combatants, who quickly scattered as fast as their robots could carry them.
The bystanders were perplexed at this new development: they had also heard the projectiles and had assumed that the attacks had merely come from one of the gangs. Their assumption changed as they came under fire too: entire lines of their unmanned robots obliterated in seconds.
With this development, the other gangs started mobilizing in an effort to destroy the one gang that had dared to attack them. This resulted in a bloodbath of destruction as robot aimed at robot without a care for identity.
A few more destructive barrages set the cooler minds thinking as they ascertained the source of this attack. With crude scouting devices, the ones who survived the next attacks were able to discover the source of the barrages, a few excitedly pointing in the direction of the ridges beyond the bridge.
Those who were lucid enough to hear the excited jabbering of these people looked with uncertainty at the ridge, unsure of what to do. It was then with the promptings of the remaining gangleaders that a gathering of the robots organized enough to start marching to the bridge. The attacks did not abate however, as more and more of their numbers were destroyed as they were ordered.
Finally, it was a smaller, more organized force that managed to reach the bridge. This "united" force had their orders: to capture whatever was doing those attacks. Although secretly each gang leader wanted to possess those weapons for themselves; but for now, they knew they had to present a strong front against this external intruder.
Bellowing a strange war-cry in their cockpits, the men urged their robots on, great steel giants barreling down with echoing footsteps on the asphalt - guns blazing, spewing hot fire in the direction of the mountain.
That was the cue for the destruction to begin.
The Morgana lurked within the shadows of the bridge supports, the Factspheres registering the pseudo-Knightmares that were charging overhead. Like a sinister stalactite it hung on the bridge's underside, great Landspinners sticking like hot glue to the surface.
After Lelouch watched the mechs lumbering overhead, he signaled Nunnally, who then started "phase two" of their operation.
Crimson eyes gleaming, the Morgana launched both of its oversized Harkens at specific bridge supports, shattering the concrete columns. Quickly retracting them, Nunnally next aimed the harkens at the remaining supports, destroying those columns as well.
As the bridge started to collapse, the Morgana swiftly dashed with its unique Landspinners towards the underside of the bridge where the town's entrance was, its golden claws shining in anticipation.
It was a sound that some of them heard, echoing from under the bridge, but they would only discover what it was about when the earth was suddenly pulled out from beneath their feet. The others had only heard a slight tremor, the precursor to the asphalt beneath them cracking - too late for them to look down and notice.
As one, the entire "united" troop fell, dragged down by the collapsing bridge. The drivers' voices could be heard howling in consternation as they crashed onto the filthy, polluted water. Some of these would be silenced as robot crashed on top of robot in a heap, the impact igniting both.
There was a moment of silence as surviving gangleaders ferally barked orders amid the creaking sounds of the recovering robots and concrete settling into the water. It was soon broken by what seemed to be the sound of projectiles hurtling through the air as a barrage, greater in magnitude than the previous ones, hit their mark - obliterating the pile of robots that had been gathered.
The chain reaction of explosions sent a great plume of smoke to rise into the air, marking the place where the grand devastation had taken place.
Lelouch only took a confirmatory glance at the information of the elimination of the forces that had gathered on the bridge, as he was already moving the rest of his "pieces" to attack from their positions within the city.
"Core Energy at 60.1%. Estimated operation time remaining in the operation: eleven minutes and thirteen seconds. Let's get it done, Subject N."
There was no confirmation to be had from Nunnally but the sudden increase in the Morgana's speed. The girl had been informed that she would have to destroy the remaining pseudo-Knightmares on her own - the other pieces her brother controlled would only be providing suppressing fire.
What the girl saw as she drove the Morgana on in its mission of destruction was a ruined city, not so much different from the ones she had been simulating. Filthy, dilapidated buildings covered its surface, dotted here and there by strange, barbaric markings. The air still reeked of smoke and the din of battle, caused by the mechs who had ignored the orders to the bridge and had given in to the lust of battle.
She had felled three of their number already, easily shredding them with the Morgana's claws. With each kill, her heart seemed to recoil, a slight feeling that disappeared when another enemy would start attacking her.
"Subject N., BEHIND!"
Nunnally quickly reacted, bringing up the image of what was behind her in a milli-second. She smoothly ducked behind a nearby building to avoid the mech's fire, not stopping to move as she circled around the building to impale the attacker from behind.
There was one thing that she liked about the actual Morgana: it was fast! It was a severe contrast to her normal lifestyle of invalidity, a significantly uplifting experience to this girl who had limited mobility herself. For even with the implants, she could not walk for long nor jump and skip, yet here she was controlling the behemoth that could easily scale a vertical surface.
Such thoughts raced in her mind as she continued to dispatch the enemies, an action that had become second-nature to her after all those days simulating.
Nunnally was also happy, happy that she was doing her best keeping her brother safe. Although it was his plan and his careful monitoring that kept them aware, it was her hand on the controls, her skill that made the Morgana into the killing machine that it was created to be. A machine that also served to protect her and her brother. So she thought, already satisfied with how well she was doing.
Just then, her brother's voice returned, smooth and deep, over the link.
"Let's take advantage of this building, Subject N. The closest targets are in a perfect position to..."
She couldn't help it: she giggled softly. Her brother seemed to ignore the fact that he was gradually sounding more and more like a man.
Lelouch was suprised at this, had something happened to her inside the cockpit? "What is it N- Subject N.? Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing,"came the giggling reply. "I just realized your voice sounded cooler, nii-er Subject R."
The boy was so surprised that he stopped tapping the keyboard for a moment, stunned by this statement. True, my voice has somehow changed over the past year, but why could that be a reason to-
Blushing slightly, he cleared his throat. What is she saying? She knows that this conversation is obviously being recorded! "No more lighthearted talk, Subject N. Time's slowly running out and we still have more of those to destroy."
"Yes~~"
They had been a minor gang, only composing of thirteen members. They had been told that thirteen was an unlucky number, which so far had been proven right, as they were easily displaced from their meager territories. Yet, they somehow were able to hold on to their rapidly deteriorating robots.
Today was also proving to be an unlucky day as three of their number was instantly obliterated without warning, chipping their number down to 10; and then they came under the crossfire of the gangs, destroying three more of their comrades.
Now, the remnants were moving, hoping to take advantage of the chaos to claim a piece of territory themselves. This would be probably be the moment when their fortunes reverse!
The self-proclaimed leader of this group was the only one who noticed that the shadow of the building next to them had grown in size, almost engulfing the lot of them. He looked up, and before he could even shout a warning, the falling building had crushed the entirety of his gang.
What kind of luck is this, he said in his native tongue. His tirade of expletives expressing his outrage would be shortlived, however, as his robot was suddenly impaled, crushing the man inside his cockpit.
The boy had been secure, having hidden himself adequately near his next target. He would strike in the night, as usual, to promote the feeling of fear that he was ordered to perpetrate.
The boy was confused, jolted from his meditative sleep as gunfire erupted, telltale signs of the battle. He had expected that to happen, but not in this magnitude.
The boy heard great explosions over the din of battle. Screams uttered in the native tongue were the markers of the defeated - or unfortunate bystanders.
The boy clambered out of his hiding place, judging the area to be dangerous to be in. He did not know what was happening, but he did not want to die yet.
The boy had not been ordered to die.
The boy ran outside, immediately heading for cover, shielding his ears from the loud bray of weapons firing. More explosions, more visions of fire, less people to kill.
The boy paused in his flight, ears picking up the familiar sounds of artillery crashing down. He looked up past the grey clouds of smoke, seeing the shell for a brief second before it crashed, making a great noise.
The boy frowned: the situation had made it even more dangerous for him to be out in the open. He had to find high ground, away from the center of the conflict.
The boy entered a building in the outskirts, tall and remote, its former occupants having joined the battle. He made haste in climbing the stairs into the upper floors, intent on having a better view of the battle.
The boy saw what he wanted to see, though the carnage was now thickly hidden behind a constant veil of black smoke, clouds expelled as the Knightmares exhaled their final breath. He would have to report on this development, there was a chance that his targets may have died already.
The boy glimpsed through the smoke, something big moving swiftly over the rubble. A brand-new creation by the gangs? The blur moved swiftly to and fro, weaving expertly through the streets. He saw as it seemed to fell the Knightmares it had gone near with, marked by a distinct explosion.
The boy saw, running before its advance, people on foot - whether innocent bystanders or unarmed gangs, he did not deign to guess. Yet the big frame did not seem to specifically target them, instead, it kept on moving from frame to frame, destroying each with ease.
The boy saw it up close for a split second as it passed by; it seemed to resemble a gigantic mushroom of sorts as he looked up at it. His eyes narrowing, he was just about to move to track its progress before a shell hit the building - the force of its impact shattering the foundations.
The boy instantly dashed towards the stairs, heading for the roof. Once there, he waited for a chance, to either jump to the nearby building as this one fell or brace for impact. He would have neither, as the roof seemed to want to go first.
The boy abruptly jumped off, a split-second decision, hardly sane but desperate nonetheless. He hoped to be able to recover quickly, as he knew he would be receiving major injuries as he landed.
The boy saw the ground coming close and he braced as the air sailed past him swiftly. He closed his eyes, waiting for impact.
The boy felt an impact, but it was too abrupt. It also felt quite different, he felt as if he landed on something metallic.
The boy opened his eyes, shocked at what he was seeing. The unknown behemoth from before had caught him in midair, and he was now sitting in the palm of its hand. He flinched as he saw the long, serrated claws attached: almost thrice his size. He then stared back up at his supposed savior that was now placing him gently on the ground.
The boy stepped off its palm, stunned at what he had experienced, and gazed in awe at the towering Knightmare he saw before him. With an ear-splitting screech, the frame left, causing the boy to lose his balance at the sudden exit.
The boy stared in the direction that the frame had went with a confused gaze that was expressed in his clear, carnation pupils.
Nunnally had a strange feeling as she steered the Morgana away after using it to save a single inhabitant from falling to his grisly end.
She had seen them. The people unarmed, running before her no, before the Morgana like scurrying ants. This had been the time that the strange feeling had manifested, causing her to limit the Morgana's movements to avoid running over anyone - even going as far as jumping over whole crowds.
She had been alerted by her brother of an incoming enemy attack, a large rocket that she easily evaded. She had used the Mind's Eye to glance back briefly at the place of impact, already plotting a route of attack towards the attacker.
It was then that she saw the unmistakable figure of someone falling from the collapsing building. Time had seemed to slow as she instantly reversed the Morgana back in the direction she had come. She had carefully extended the model's arms, hoping and praying that the outstretched claws would not impale him instead.
That strange feeling had then struck her like a gale as she lowered the man onto the ground. It was a feeling that gave birth to thoughts in her mind: thoughts of derision at her own hypocrisy, at this killer who had already claimed many lives yet risked herself to save one.
It was a feeling that stayed with her as she used the guns to shred the offending pseudo-Knightmare to pieces. A thought then occurred to her, an answer her mind had apparently discovered.
"That's right, it's for nii-sama's sake...The defenseless people who aren't piloting Knightmares - they are not the enemies."
Lelouch for his part was now pondering what Nunnally had just done. As operator of the Siege Perilous that had no control over the Morgana itself, he could only sit and watch as his sister ignored his warnings over the commlink to drive the Morgana to save the man. Deep inside, he knew it was a noble act, but it was an act that wasted time all the same.
The boy glanced at the timer that read the energy remaining in the Morgana, and then his eyes next quickly read the amount of enemies that could be discerned by his Factspheres.
He opened up his commlink again. "Subject N., there are approximately fourteen more enemies to destroy. Core energy is at 23% , operation time remaining estimated at four minutes and four seconds. We must hurry." He consulted the radar HUD showing the location of the remaining units. With a tap he ordered the Rooks to cease bombardment and at the same time ordering the rest of his pieces to start falling back.
"The next ones will be right around that building..."
Starry night had already fallen when the man arrived astride his all-terrain motorcycle on a ridge overlooking the town. He coughed lightly as he waved off the dust that smothered his face as he stopped the vehicle. When his vision cleared, he was able to dimly glimpse the town as the Lamperouges had left it.
As he dismounted, he took a number of recording devices from the pack strapped to the motorcycle. These were the most powerful and state-of-the-art things that money could buy, a necessity for a project such as this. After picking what he needed, the man started descending the path leading down from the ridge, balancing the devices precariously on his arms. After pushing through thick foliage, he was finally able to get a clear glimpse of the town.
Had he not been wearing a special mask at that moment, he would have been assailed with a great, pungent smell, a powerful, cloying scent of decay and death. The odor was a combination of the smells of bodies decaying and that of metal and rubber burning. They seemed to stem from what he beheld in front of him: a grand scene of devastation. He saw fires that had continued to rage, piles upon piles of corpses being gathered, and the telltale chunks of metal that had once been a large tool of battle.
As he set to work recording the images, the man's eyes would be drawn to the actions and behavior of the survivors: of a number fighting bare-handed on the streets, of some salvaging the carcasses that had their fires cool off, and lastly, a number who set to looting whatever they could lay their hands on - even the dead.
It was almost midnight before he was done: Portland had ordered that every detail be painstakingly recorded, from the craters formed from the artillery strikes to the great, shattered bridge. As he warmed his himself with a lit cigarette, he watched the great plumes of smoke drift up and away, obscuring the night sky for the town.
Down below, he knew, things would continue as usual for the town's inhabitants, this massacre apparently just the latest of many that had occurred in the past. And many still lived: some gangs had still endured. And although inevitably the gangs would arise yet again to dominate the town; here and now at least, there was a temporary peace.
"Mission: successful?" The man asked himself as he puttered away, leaving the smoldering town behind him.
Excerpt from Special After-action Report 001
"The Lamperouges' first mission was a resounding success: a bloody beginning for both the Morgana's pilot and the Merlin module's operator. The splintered gangs and their leaders could do nothing against the superior tactics laid out by the invader; and not even the hulks of steel that they had staked their pride on could withstand the ferocity displayed by the Morgana that day. The Lamperouges had descended like lightning on the unsuspecting gangs, and they just as quickly vanished - fading like a swift breeze into the mountains. Entire gangs, holding power that were inherited throughout the years, had been annihilated in a single day. (deleted) would not see another organization rise into power for many years thereafter: so crippling was the void that was forcefully created by the Morgana and its Devicers...."
