Disclaimer: I own nothing of Code Geass, nor of Guilty Gear, nor to a lesser extent, BlazBlue and Rewrite. I do own this story, and all the inspirations along with it. And of course, the brain where the ideas came from.

Were one to enter the containment cells within the Britannian base, one would find Suzaku Kururugi, all four of his limbs bound by the prison garb.

It wasn't right, yes, not by a long shot. By the rules of the local Order, no Japanese, as long as he claimed himself to be one, could be detained by any of the nations for any given time or reason. In the case of criminal activity, the person, by protocol, should be turned over to the Order for judgement, being the supreme arbiters of each Preserve.

But in this case, as Suzaku found out when he finally awoke in his hospital bed, there were some fluctuations in the normal order of things. He didn't know the full details, only guessing that the aftermath of that monster Zero's attack had left everyone reeling and unfocused.

He hadn't objected to the detainment and hadn't pressed the Preserve's laws. He listened almost distractedly to the news of a trial, an odd, specially arranged trial at that, agreed upon by the Order and the Empire. After self-reflection, he knew his action was rather criminal: willful theft and damage to Britannian property, along with defiance of an order from a Guardian superior. His crimes were staggering, in light of his convictions.

But no, he, at least was justified in his actions. First to safeguard Nunnally, then to kill-

Zero! The mere thought of that Gear's name brought the bile to his throat and sent blood roaring in his ears. He had guessed at the casualties, when Ms. Croomy had told him about the ars' effect on the Britannian district. That scale of damage...he hoped, he prayed, that it hadn't affected any of his friends at Ashford, Lelouch, Nunnally...

After all this time, he had yet to find the chance to contact any of them, to let them know he was here, and also to inquire of Lelouch. His friend had had trouble somewhere, and he hoped the guy hadn't encountered a Gear during the attack.

And if something happened to everyone? Well, he knew nothing would make him hate Zero more. He already willed, wished for the Gear's demise.

He'd almost had the Gear, he knew, but he could not recall how he'd failed from the dredge of his memories.

Breathe.

His conditions were humane, for Britannian standards. Save for the bindings he was well-fed, kept in a clean cell, and allowed to watch the channels through a small screen provided. Most of what he watched when he wasn't asleep were news from around the world about the very Preserve he was in, looking at clean-up and reconstruction efforts and speculating on the intentions of the Gear who had named itself mastermind of the attack.

Some Britannian officers came, and he thought he was going to be interrogated. They did ask questions, but quickly left on impatient feet, as if the very sight of him was a mundane thing that excited ennui.

There was a list of casualties, and he leaned back in his bed, relieved to see none of his friends there. But he didn't feel happy. People had been killed.

And then there came news of his trial. It was amazing how he didn't receive news from his jailors, but from the channels.

)()()()()()()()(

In order to rise to the top of the ever-essential information business, one had to abandon personal beliefs, protocols, and principles to consort with sides and peoples who only wished each other dead. That was how Diethard Reid had become an accomplished man: though a Britannian, he frequented the cities of the EU and spent every other vacation in some pleasure palace in the Federation. His trade was an extension of his career: dealt with all sides, buying and selling information, and then using the rest to his advantage to sell a lucrative story, regardless of who was affected, who the information had come from, or its nature. In one aspect, he was like an underground arms or ars dealer, though he was dealing with a more refined weapon that toppled kingdoms all the same.

That was the story of his life.

He'd come to Area Eleven as soon as his last assignment ended, on the fastest express airship money could buy in the Continent. Along the way, he'd caught his customary two winks, waking up just in time to behold the inspection barrier that all outgoing and ingoing aircraft were required to do, as mandated by the Order.

Diethard made a note of it in his loyal, well-used infopad, scratching down the events and taking pictures of the proceedings, even though they were largely useless for him now. He nodded as the Order Knight saluted and disembarked from his ship, before he turned his eyes towards the large window to catch a glimpse of the ruined section of the Britannian district.

Some other broadcast channels had long covered the "Area Eleven Disaster", as those other reporters termed it, which to Diethard was a bit of an offensive name, considering Japan's history. It was a view shared by some Japanese who were abroad, writing to newspapers to denounce the cavalier term used to describe their dead nation.

After checking into a Federation district hotel, Diethard activated his Observer from the balcony. It was a small camera-installed machine which fed on seithr to levitate through stable areas and was cloaked in a basic invisibility ars. It was a close-kept secret to journalists who had reached the peak of the profession like him, and which was now instrumental to feeding Diethard with fresher pictures and videos of events. It sometimes also enabled him to catch scenes that were thought secret on camera, as as had happened when Observer sighted a human-mutant dealing in his previous assignment.

While he was in the shower to refresh himself after the trip, his cellphone rang. The journalist stopped the water flow, listening intently to the ringing: if it rang further than two, it was the office, if it stopped and rang again at an interval of three seconds between rings, it was "them".

After learning it was the latter, Diethard brushed aside the curtain to pick up the phone, receiving the message. "This is me."

"Eleven, the Felicitous, left-most stool." After that curt message, the connection clicked off.

It was quite convenient for them to contact him so soon after arrival: perhaps they were anxious about something? He didn't care.

Later that night, he caught a skyway transport towards the EU district. Felicitous was a bar he'd visited only once before, and though that was three years ago, he still remembered where it was, teaching his clueless driver the location.

The surroundings of the interior was bland and nondescript, in contrast to the multi-colored neon nightlife in the streets outside. The bar had more than its fair share of clientele, some standing near He let his eyes wander, seeing the customary "eyes" posing as separate patrons who were just strangers to each other.

He took the leftmost stool on the bar, which had been quickly vacated by a drunk-looking man who swayed towards the restrooms; he doubted the man would demand for his seat. He produced his trusty notepad from his coat, chuckling inwardly at the outdated cloak-and-dagger schemes that Gaia, arguably the most powerful secret organization, still resorted to.

A stein was placed, unordered, by a teenage-looking bartender with clipped, blue hair and a nervous face. Diethard didn't look up, instead choosing to peer into the dark, murky broth.

Minutes later, the man on the stool next to him was prodding at the pony-tailed man next to him worriedly, saying loudly to the bartender, "Boy, this quick-fix needs a doctor, eh, can't hold his cups that well, he don't look so good, eh."

"Sir?" said the bartender, bending over him in concern, "Would you like to go to the restroom? We have a strict sobriety policy: if you can't hold on to your proper appearance in here, then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

Diethard seemed to grunt like a foolish drunk, choosing the latter option and staggered off towards the exit.

The slightly chilly air wafted into him, a sudden change from the sticky heat inside the bar. After bumping into some passersby, he gyrated towards an empty alley and made as if to wretch out his insides.

The chip dropped to the floor with a clink, which Diethard caught on his palm. He heard a shuffle of feet behind him, and a voice which he recognized as the young bartender's, "Excuse me sir, but you forgot your notepad."

"Mystery ofmysteries, so what's a kid, and a Britannian at that, doing here being pulled by Gaia's strings? You must be one hell of a sympathizer to risk a scandal with the EU," Diethard murmured in a half-whisper, body still prone.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, sir. But I've got to go back to work. Here's your notepad here, right on top of the dumpster. Oh, and management would like to inform you that Felicitous is only open until 10 in the evening tonight, if you'd like to come back." The next call will come by 10, be at your room by then.

Diethard Reid, looking none too sicker, stood and pocketed his notepad, which he knew already had a virus ars installed. It would self-destruct and infect his other devices with a tracking ars if he were not careful, which he was not known to be. With the virus came a trigger code that would open up the information held inside the chip he had nearly swallowed in his mouth.

He looked at his watch. The time stipulation they gave was enough if he caught the train express that had just arrived over his head. So thinking, he ran out of the alley to push himself through the crowds.

Diethard Reid spent the remaining time deciphering the information he had been given. Most were rubbish, useful only as "olds" in the rapidly decaying information arena, but some were genuine Gaia intelligence, which caused his eyebrows to raise on occasion. Plans to ally with or capture Zero, that was expected, but not a surprise, details of Order incompetence during attack...The Necromancer sighted in Japan? Those were indeed some tidbits that would fetch a high price to the right buyers. He was already satisfied by the exchange, which only left-

"Well now, this is truly a night of surprises." When the power had been cut off, the hotel's emergency power working itself thin to restart, what came up through the balcony like a furtive lover had been none other than that young bartender. Diethard tossed him his credit chips holding a few thousand pounds as well as information chips of his own. His intruder caught it in the darkness deftly.

The boy, still clad in his bartender's outfit, sifted through the information chips quickly, crushing some and pocketing others. Diethard poured himself a drink in the darkness, watching him work as he placed his notepad on his lap. "Are you Gaia's new operative? As I'd said, you seem too young to be of use to them as a sympathizer. IT is also a surprise to know that Zero does not belong to Gaia, but then, who does he belong to?"

Ignoring him, the boy said, "We already know what the Order intends to do in Area Eighteen, and we have relocated our facilities accordingly. This...hm, yes this might be interesting to Her Exaltedness. Maintenance keys, mutant community, Guardian movement records, schedule of appointments...good, good. I'm satisfied, broker. Looks like I'm not silencing anyone tonight."

"Pleasure to be doing business," replied Reid fulsomely on the outside; his mind on the other hand was already typing up his next story. "Would you like to use the door to head out or...?" Well, he didn't know how the boy had gotten up eighteen stories in the first place and felt foolish for asking.

"A pleasure," the boy replied curtly. He made a slight bow, and disappeared backfirst through the balcony. Diethard didn't follow him to look, instead focusing on his notepad after downing another swig.

"Who are you then, Zero? Are you the Calamity returned? Or a cheap parlor trick?"

A moment later, the power returned, and the room comm called in to inquire with its pre-set help program.

"I had no problems, thank you," said Diethard, dismissing the programmed bot. "But if you could, some coffee would be most appreciated. I feel like I'll be having a rather long night."

)()()()()()()()(

"Good grief, why is he only this enthusiastic when they're working on something? Why can't he channel that positive energy towards Events?" The President, Milly had repeated that line over and over during the past months, during the bi-monthly sessions when the two geniuses of her council, or "Lamperouge and Einstein", as she termed it, put their minds together to achieve some invention or concept for the benefit of the school. Mind, she wasn't totally averse to the idea, having herself been given some of the results of their project as part of her compensation, but the idea in itself rankled.

She could never really touch Nina, who had her own quiet method of having her own way, while Lelouch, who was bendable but reluctant, gentle but cold, who was like a truant child who was only goaded by the whip and the candy, only seemed to truly open up during these times. Or during the unseen moments when he would insist on going to see his sister. When those two combined: ars adept and genius inventor, no one she knew could curb their enthusiasm when it came time to "forge" as they called it.

"This must be hard for you, huh?" Beside her, Shirley was currently ignoring her homework in favor of looking over at the two huddled towards the corner of the room, the two four-eyes babbling excitedly in half-murmurs about something or other.

"Huh? No, I mean, aren't you curious like always, Prez?" Shirley stammered, but didn't look away.

"Not really. They already explained the basic concept of their newest thing," explained Milly. "I understood some of it. Some."

"Ooh~ As expected of the Prez, aside from those two, you're a genius yourself!" exclaimed Rivalz, whose hand was plunged into the mouth of a jar of jam. "Their thingies only make me feel like whoa stop right there, brain capacity is filled!"

Shirley expressed a similar sentiment, though Kallen was quick to chide Rivalz, "So what am I, chopped liver?"

"Huh? You're smart too, Kallen?" There was a crinkling of fingers. "Well, I thought you were an average just like Suzaku, I mean all you Japanese seem to be the same right-"

"Smart, real smart, Sir Cardemonde," remarked Shirley, as the boy crumpled from a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Though," Milly commented as if the exchange hadn't taken place, "What I am curious about is Lelouch. Like his thoughts – he didn't look an ounce worried when we told him about Suzaku." True, the boy had displayed his share of concern, but she supposed it was a guy thing or something to be so calm and frigid like Lelouch had been. She could only guess at the probable turmoil that lay frozen behind his demeanor.

Maybe that was just his way of coping.

"Shirley," the aformentioned youth called out, ignoring the residue fogging up his glasses. "Would you be our tester?"

"Sure...but why me?" asked Shirley worriedly, who had already stood to walk over to the two and their machine.

Nina spoke from inside the construct of metal, in a clear, business-like tone that she only displayed during times like these, "We want to be able to monitor the effects of this from the outside. It is kind of a complex array we're trying, and the stopgap measures Lelouch thought up last night haven't been tested yet. So could you please...?"

"Sheesh. That wasn't exactly what I was asking about, you know. You know I can't understand half of what you guys keep on going on about," pouted Shirley.

"Huh? Then what did you mean then, Shirley?" asked Lelouch, and Milly could feel the minute frustration from the girl. Ah, men. Ah, Lelouch.

"So would you mind running the concept through for us again? In words suited for Professor Ramsey, not Professor deSimone or Professor Tori."

"Er..." said Nina, brows scrunched up in thought. "What Lelouch said before was kind of an exaggeration." The youth himself was picking and prodding at Shirley's body, possibly to add monitoring arrays on her, and not noticing the odd red flush creeping up her neck. "It's not going to be a permanent illusion ars per se, nor will it imitate standard hypnosis arrays, and the one thing we tried to only emulate here was the trigger mechanism used by the Giordani design and the Falinski concepts of the senses, and in using the multiple arrays to overlap and begin a self-regulating, self-sustaining function not unlike that used in the weather pylons used in the Preserve, we've been trying to duplicate parts of the -"

"Brain...self-destructing..." said Rivalz loudly from the side. "Reboot! Reboot!"

"Ah, sorry, err...I'm guessing Lelouch would be able to explain better," she glanced up hesitantly at her partner, who had finished prepping up Shirley.

"I'm afraid, fellow forger, that my explanations will not do Rivalz any better than yours. As he said, it is all a matter of capacity. No offense, of course, Rivalz," replied Lelouch.

"None taken!" said the boy cheerfully.

"What should be important for them then, is demonstration. If I could ask everyone but Shirley to leave? We'd like to establish a control group, but to be careful, we'd first like to test if the Fernier loops are operational. Then, we can probably...safely test it on you." There was something unnerving in Lelouch's calming smile. The council members left the room at the Prez's excited orders with a bustle of chairs and the shuffles of feet.

"Shirley, don't worry," Nina reassured her friend. "I- we guarantee it's not going to backfire."

"No, it's fine, Nina. I'm always glad to help." She glanced surreptitiously at Lelouch who had walked over to operate the machine. Nina followed her gaze before lowering it, a moment later she had bowed and gone over to stood by the youth.

"Shirley, if you could please take a second to look at this word. Thanks, thank you...excellent." Tapping of keys. Nina handed the girl a piece of paper. "Now Shirley, read that word, if you please. Very...good... excellent."

Moments later, the student council had been called back in to see Shirley Fenette in the middle of the room, talking animatedly to Nina and Lelouch who were sitting on the far end of the table. The two seemed oblivious to the girl's talk, which Milly recognized as gossip which Shirley had already told her some nights ago.

"Almost complete hypnosis," commented Lelouch when he looked up to meet her questioning gaze. "Using a trigger, we have fooled Shirley's senses into perceiving herself in a situation that her mind has invented, no, it's more apt to say our invention made up for her.

"Now, she's thinking the two of us are you and Nina, with my figure forming the focus as 'Milly'. And Nina as Nina of course."

"That's creepy dude," declared Rivalz, who waved a hand before Shirley's face, amazed at the complete lack of response.

"Her mind has completely sealed her off of reality, thinking only of this moment. It does have its limits though." Lelouch stood, and suddenly Shirley exclaimed, "Huh? Where'd Milly go Nina?" The bespectacled girl didn't respond, instead nodding in approval and scribbling some more lines.

"The loss of the focus is a disruption in the ars. It will take time for the illusion to re-establish itself when I come back. A second one is the time-limit. Now usually, the illusion can be broken through another trigger that we use, sort of like breaking off a hypnotic state. However, this is a sustaining ars using a seithr-consuming array, so it can become very limited." He went over to his machine. "Er, Nina, are you ready?"

"Yes, I've logged in her vital statistics. It looks good, Lelouch," replied the inventor, a little too happily, Milly saw.

"So, council members, that is the core of our latest invention. We thank Shirley for her cooperation, and would appreciate any further volunteers for subsequent testing." In that instant, Lelouch turned off the machine, and the flow of seithr stopped. Shirley, who had kept on babbling by the table blinked, irises unfocusing and refocusing before she shook her head. "Huh? What was I talking about, Nina? And wasn't Milly here a while ago?" She looked quizzically at the real deal, who was giving her a small, uncertain smile. "Ah! The testing, did you guys already do the testing, Lulu?"

"We have, Shirley, thank you. As you can see, we have made it so the target has a general memory of the illusion, although we have estimated the impression will disappear after...why are you guys looking at me like that?"

Shirley looked from person to person in confusion, seeming not to understand the uncomfortable air that had settled into the room.

"Um..." began Kallen.

"I repeat it's totally creepy man... way more than that x-ray thing you invented in the summer..." Rivalz said, giggling nervously.

"What are you talking about? You know we won't use it on you guys. And I already told you its limitations. The illusion won't persist for long." Even Nina was looking at her fellow members with something akin to surprise and wonder. Time to put a Milly spin into things!

"Lelouch, have you given a thought as to how people react if they know an illusion is to take place?" The inventors looked at each other, then back at Milly. "Yes we have. But we haven't tested it."

"Rivalz," commanded Milly, cheering the boy forward towards the machine. "If you could..."

"Huh? No way Prez, didn't I say it was creepy?" declined Rivalz with a voice tinged with fear. "Get someone else to do-"

"Rivalz, could you look at this?" said Nina, after mouthing to Milly to look away. In that instant, all the rest of the member's eyes, save for Kallen who was somehow glaring at the machine, were turned to the paper in the inventor's eyes.

"Everyone," continued Lelouch from his place near the machine, holding up his own paper. "Would you care to look at this. too?"

"That is impressive, Lelouch," Rivalz was mouthing, fingers coiled around an invisible mug. "But I don't want to be the last guy..."

Milly nodded, arms crossed as she peered into each member's eyes, feeling a little unnerved herself at the glassy faraway look each member had. Her heart went out to Shirley, who had been caught twice in the illusion and was chiding an imaginary Milly for something her mind had had it say.

"And it works for a group too? Impressive you two. Although I'm not going to be looking at anything you write when that machine's close, from now on." Milly nodded, clapping her hands. Undoubtedly, only the instructors would be more pleased with this invention. She didn't want it within a foot of this clubroom from now on.

"When are you going to release them?" Nina whispered to her fellow forger. Lelouch was bent over the table, watching a broadcast about their friend Suzaku while the rest of the council went on with their illusions. The lights and colors reflected in the youth's glasses, hiding the eyes from view.

"I think we can release them now, we've had our fun." The two inventors had rejoiced, jumping and grasping each other in excitement after learning that a massive illusion effect was possible, though a bit seithr consuming.

"The Prez is gonna be mad," complained Nina, sighing and walking over to the machine.

"Not for long, I hope. After all, there's been an update on the news about Suzaku." The boy's eyes narrowed, expression skating the surface of worry and annoyance. "That Poster Boy's finally being shown to the public. He better not be in deep trouble, that guy..."

But Lelouch also had a thought. At that moment, he had many.

Thoughts growing like weeds in the fields of his mind.

He could almost feel the rush of unidentified power through his fingers. It had been exhilarating.

)()()()()()()()(

Kallen was in a rightly foul mood. First there had been those guys in the swim club, prodding their co-member Shirley into having her join. That idea was preposterous – she was already in a godforsaken club.

Then there had been those stupid talks in the room.

And then that invention, whose nature reminded her so much of him. She hadn't hesitated to chew out the two brainiacs, who didn't show an ounce of remorse. Well, Lamperouge looked shy, but that weirdo Nina just stared.

God, she needed to blow off some steam. Meetings had been practically forbidden since Zero had let them free. She guessed now they were practically nonexistent once they found out what he had had them do.

"great courage...a fire that has yet to find itself quenched..."

Where was Zero? She hadn't felt him at all, even if she felt her own mother bumbling downstairs, oblivious, mechanical, so unlike the dynamic, power-charged Zero who waltzed and said meaningless things in the Dead Zone while in his complete form without consequence.

It was as if the Gear had been but an illusion, blown away like a forgotten whisper by the harsh Zone winds after it had ended.

But she couldn't deny her memories. The Gear had spoken to her, perhaps intimately, though she knew in those moments she could just have easily attacked him as he'd attacked her. He had uttered words of regret, but never contrition, like a little boy who'd broken someone else's dolls and yet stubbornly held onto the thought that he was in the right.

And she could not deny the keepsake. That small, black feather occupied the same position once held by Ohgi's letters. She was reminded of its presence whenever she sat up in bed and when she opened the door to her room during the night. That afternoon, her thoughts half-dwelling on their fellow member Kururugi, who seemed to be in deep shit and that feather, she turned the handle of the door to find that it had disappeared.

Heart hammering in panic, she looked swiftly outside towards the corridor, wondering if that...that thing had come in defying orders to clean her room. She looked inside, discovering the same mess inside as it had been when she left before.

Kallen went in, slamming the door shut as she sprinted across the room to the dresser.

It was gone, and she couldn't find the feather anywhere above, below or between the bare furnitures in her room. She tested the lock on the window, and found it still locked, her brain running around in circles in her mind.

She checked under the bed, flinging out books, grimoires, magazines and weights, and found no feather. "You've got to be kidding me." By now, the panic had evolved into aimless confusion.

Everything was in its proper place! Kallen slumped to her floor, all adrenaline bleeding from her in waves.

Her cellphone rang then, and her hands automatically reached for it and pushed the receive button.

"Look outside."

"Who the- Zero?" she hissed, looking around her room suspiciously. Did that guy have the nerve to invade her privacy? From out of her memories the lullaby she thought she'd forgotten echoed. "Where are you?"

"Look outside," the voice repeated, and she couldn't mistake the familiarity of that tone, the smooth baritone that reminded her of rough, unrefined silk. Hesitantly, she stood towards her window, eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

"Unlock your window and look." Kallen's eyes flashed as she all but kicked the lock open. She looked over the edge at the sight of the crowds just outside the boundary of the Stadtfeld manse, at the garden below and the buildings which sat beyond. She deigned to look up, wondering if the guy had the balls to be standing on her rooftop.

"What do you see, my young flame?"

"I don't know what kind of creep game you're playing, Zero, but I'll be damned if I'll be playing along. Where are you? Show yourself!" she demanded.

"Patience. Let not the smoke veil your eyes. Now, what do you see, Kallen Kouzuki, when you look up at the night sky?" the voice seemed gentle, as if it were genuinely asking that question.

"I see," Kallen said, squinting as she turned her head up towards the invisible dome above the Preserve. "The night-time sky, the blue fading to violet."

"Wrong. Try again." Zero's voice was not angry.

"Fine, err...ah, I see your handiwork etched on the sky. Your so-called 'challenge' to the world." The cerulean-gold streaks were still there, she saw, bustling like giant fireflies in the distance around the persistent ring burned onto the sky.

"Wrong again, my young flame. What do you see?" the voice pressed, which caused Kallen to fall back and think. Damn asshole was milking the game for all it's worth.

"Alright, I see... the sky, unchanging and enclosing, tailored and sculpted to our needs."

"Wrong-"

"I'm not finished! It's nothing but a cheap blind, thrown over every one's eyes to avert them to the harshness of the world outside the Preserve. Of the Dead Zones."

There was a sound like a relieved whisper on the other side. "Very good. It is a scene that needs to change, a sight that humans willingly trap themselves under to secure their minds. I will change that."

"You will?" asked Kallen. "So you'll kill more and more people, is that it Zero? I can sympathize, but..."

"Ah, your hesitation and uncertainty is a familiar one. No, what happened before, as I believe I've told you, was a mistake. To willingly subjugate equal beings, to pronounce judgement like an ill-born God – no, that is the work of lesser, spineless man. It was artless of me, and in the end, was a useless act. But I will not dwell on the past.

"I am Zero. As you've no doubt learned, I've uttered my challenges to the world. Many are squirming in fear, some rightly. But I know of some who have yet to hear my words. Some who through circumstance and chains, are blinded and deafened to the real truth around them. Yes, just like the bubble over this Preserve."

Her thoughts went to her mother.

"I will not deign myself a leader for now. A leader exists when there are people willing to have him or her lead. I would humbly request of you, Kallen Kouzuki, to bring your most trusted friends to this place I shall tell you. One more meeting, to know what they intend from now on, and for you all to know about my own. This time you will have the right to decide what you are willing to do. Not just as a Gear, but as a freely rational being."

"What do you plan to do?" asked Kallen, and an unknown chill like melting ice coursed through her skin. It was a strange thrill, part anticipation and part fear.

"I will change it. The world."

AN: SOPA seems a suspicious thing. I have a fanciful thought that it would lead to the death of fanfiction, among other things. Perhaps wiser folks know what its passing would mean for the world beyond. When I personally read the news and the different opinions revolving around it, I was decidedly on the fence.

I suppose a strange disconnect from the internet world is not so strange for guys like me. I've been working my butt off with no breaks for days now.

Can someone break my ankle again? Just kidding.

Thanks for reading!

Merlin Out.