Middle East, somewhere

Rivalz was still in the custody of the two "soldiers" who were with him on that strange air transport. What did they call it again? Scram-jess? Or something like that. It didn't matter now. Right now he was hand-cuffed in the back of an open-air vehicle with the two cronies sitting up front, one of them still tinkering around with that multi-colored cube.

"When will we get there?" Rivalz almost yelled over the noise of the engine.

"When? Oh, I don't know, when you shut up!"

Shinjuku Ghetto

The car that Cysgod and the student council had arrived in was now hidden in the warehouse. The warehouse in question in the rear view mirror of a truck with a canopy over the trailer. Cysgod sat in the passenger seat with Ohgi. Everyone else was in the back, almost. Considering that it was going to be crowded enough with the student council, five of the resistance group, two complete and total stranger to both groups, and what little supplies they could bring along; two of the resistance group decided to take the original truck (the one carrying Kallen's Knightmare and CC's capsule) and meet up with the rest later. Kallen decided to go with them because her Knightmare was in there and CC also went with them because, despite the fact that she was held in a strange container against her will, it was still comfortable and cozy.

Talk about weird.

"So Cysgod," Ohgi asked as he turned the truck onto a sorry excuse for street, "why are you after this Occulta guy, apart from preventing him from conquering the world?"

"To make him pay."

"What?" That answer actually shocked him. Ohgi suspected there must have been a different motive, but he never expected this guy to just tell him like that. Cysgod adjusted his scarf before continuing on.

"A few years ago, I was part of a clan of…well…scientists. The Eadrom-Dorcha Clan. Our name reflects our clan's belief that there is at least some good in everything. There is obviously bad and evil in the universe, but there is also good. A wiseman just needs to be able to tell the difference between the two. And as such, the clan's actions are almost always transcending 'Eadrom' and 'Dorcha."

"Light and Dark?"

"Exactly. Now, when I was 16, I started working on a private project of mine. Well, not exactly private, I mentioned it over fire-side suppers just as others in the clan did the same. But that's beside the point. You see, a year later I received a visit from a businessman of sorts. He wanted to buy my research for personal and beneficial use. He said that his intentions were for the common good of all human kind, but I just could not believe him. Suffice to say that he was more than just disappointed." At this point, Cysgod faltered, reaching up to his neck and clenching his scarf in his fist. "A few days later…the demon returned…violently." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "It was a massacre! The young man from earlier had antagonized some of our enemies to attack us in the dead of night. He supplied them with weaponry of the highest grade and personally eliminated a full quarter of us by himself. He razed the encampment to the ground stole my research and ki-!" he shuddered.

"I understand, you don't have to explain anymore. Was the businessman…Occulta?" Cysgod nodded.

"Yeah…and I'm personally going to make him pay for every soul that was lost that night."

Governor's Palace, Settlement

Clovis had thought a lot during the last few hours, probably the hardest he had ever thought in his life. Martial law was being enforced throughout Area 11. The only places of residence that the military was not going into were the ghettos. There was enough on his plate already; Clovis didn't want to worry about a Number's uprising. Euphemia was pacing back and forth, ringing her hands while slowly getting over the anxiety she was feeling over the loss of her family.

"Clovis?"

"Yes Euphie?"

"What did Alexander Daemon mean by: nuclear capabilities?"

"I don't know," said Clovis, leaning on the top of his desk. "All that I know is that it is probably bad. I need to talk to the Earl of Pudding sometime today. But more importantly, I need to get you a personal guard or at least a knight for your protection."

Euphemia crossed to the window and looked over the settlement.

"Why are such people here? They can't be mad; otherwise they wouldn't be able to cause such damage. Where did they come from? What makes them believe that they are entitled to the land Britannia is in control of? And what makes them believe that we stole the land from them?"

"That, at least, is simple." Clovis looked at the ceiling, making a good effort to suppress his anger at a foe he could not reach at that point in time. "They were created just to rattle us. Kill off most of the royal family and scare us into believing that it is the fault of our ancestors that we inherited the responsibility of paying for non-existent crimes."

Middle East

"There's the checkpoint." Rivalz righted himself to see that they were approaching a guard station with two guards, dressed in a dark garb and carrying rifles. There was a barrier across the road, like the kind of barrier he expected to see at a train crossing that consisted of a metal pole that raised and lowered depending on whether or not it was okay for people to pass or not. They stopped at the gate and the driver addressed one of the two guards.

"We're here on behalf of Alexander Daemon," he said, flipping open an id and a badge. "X Division of the Universo Mundo Novo Exercitus." The guard examined the id and nodded to his partner, who raised the gate.

"Go on in," the first guard said, waving them through.

[Many Men {clean version} (Get Rich or Die Tryin' / 50 Cent) – PLAY]

A few miles later, Rivalz would found himself looking upon what he would describe as a cross between a terrorists' compound, a third-world village, and a high-tech lightshow.

[Many Men - 0:11]

Most of the housing were a step up from the houses he saw in the ghettos of Area 11. The walls and roofs made out of varying mixtures of dirt, concrete, wood, and metal; but inter-linking the buildings were shiny pipes of a metallic substance that Rivalz guessed to be either improved plumbing or electric wiring. In, on, and around the buildings were men, women, and children in relatively poor clothing. Mixed in with the civilians however were young men bearing rifles and machine guns. These men also had on some form of black clothing, armbands or a coat or even a hat; probably to allow the guards to identify each other. Every yard or so, and increasing in number as the went further into the village, were stalls and vendors selling numerous wares. But the most astonishing part of the compound was a large complex at the center of the village next to an odd-looking church. It was all colored a weird grayish-blue with large neon letters over the sets of windowed doors that marked the entrance. In alternating blue, green, purple, white, and orange were the words: Arakiss Renegade Social Expenditure. The jeep was stopped in front of the "Expenditure" and the two men pulled Rivalz from the back, dragging him across the sand-covered ground. A set of glass doors opened and three individuals stepped out. Two of them had all black outfits and masked faces, one had on a gas mask while the other had his own head covered in an over-large handkerchief. The one in between them however, didn't look much older than Rivalz himself. He had on blue pants, strange sneakers, sunglasses with rectangular lenses, and a black button-up shirt that hung open to reveal a white t-shirt with an insignia on it. The insignia was a set of angelic wings sprouting from the sides of a red letter F. Above the "F" and between the wings were some black markings, a yellow-ish grey circle with an odd "S"-like symbol in the middle, and five pairs of black letters: Bo Co Ga Ge Lu. The kid was perhaps an inch taller than Rivalz and had a head of dirty blonde hair that was combed so that it spiked up in the front.

"Well?" the kid spoke, "is this it?"

"A gift from Daemon to the leader of the Facinus," answered on of the terrorists. The kid then burst out laughing.

"That nut-head is losing his touch! If he thinks that I need a reminder as to who is the conquer and who is the criminal, then he's becoming a fool."

"Hold on," Rivalz spoke up before he stopped himself, "are you the head of this...Facinus?" The boy laughed again.

"Quite sharp you are, I think I'm going to like you. Yes, I am Alex Powers, Head of the Powers Facinus." He turned his attention to the two terrorists who had delivered Rivalz. "Tell your boss that the arrangements are the same as before. Occulta stays away from my business, and Alex stays away from the spoils of Utopian conquest. Now get lost."

HI there! Me again. Thank you all for the reviews, critics, and support. I might-as-well warn you guys that I am going to take a 1-month break from Occulta Rising for a more..."personal" project. I do promise however, 30 days starting tomorrow, I will resume Occulta Rising. Don't be afraid to stay in touch, I'm always open for ideas and dialog. Hoping to get done with "The Project" soon and actually return to what is more exciting,

Ezekiel Zeta Stigma

P.S. For a better imagery of the Facinus insignia on Alex Powers' shirt, Google "russian mafia logo" under images and look for something similar