Mon Coryphée
Book I, Mes Larmes
"Épisode XV"
Mr. Merlot Vermilion assumed Swan Lake had begun. An usher lit the steps as the houselights began to dim slowly. His chauffeur followed him into the row. Not far from the aisle at all, he and Merlot sat comfortably. Plush cushions balanced out the new weight; it wasn't strange of Merlot to consider himself lightweight, for he adjusted to the cushion just fine. A strict diet restricted him from things like sweets and fats, and staying trim was why his suits fit him so well. Never beyond an extra large, Merlot was a slender hedgehog. Much like he demanded his son to be.
Aside from Shadow being pulled out of the season's premier—last minute—Merlot's head cooled as he awaited his son's return. Perhaps awaiting in the lobby? He'd be there for another two hours, at least. A signal to his chauffeur was made. He drew him closer, instructed him to check the lobby, and report back. Prompted by the command, the much older Irish terrier rushed out before the ushers locked the doors. Knowing he wouldn't make it back in, Merlot made sure to put his cell phone on vibrate. The new setting was made just before clapping could be heard. He joined in, higher up in the VIP balcony there. He was accompanied by other millionaires like himself. Pearls barely milked under the houselights' dullness. Ladies' spyglasses were utilized keenly. One of them seemed hesitant to shy a wave at someone below.
The orchestra pit stringed in preparation. Their conductor greeted the audience with a wave. Then, bowed to the emcee entering from stage right. Bow-tied and mustached, the portly man greeted everyone with a silencing gesture. The young lady beside him dipped in a modest curtsy.
"Good evening, esteemed masses—ladies and gentlemen, young and old," he began. "I welcome you to this year's Seasons Caravan Company Event. Tonight will be their final night here, and the Company will be closing with the final installment of their Classical Collections. Presenting, Night Seven, featuring the best from Ludwig van Beethoven. Such a splendid chorus, what elegant strings! Let us lend them our ears and rounds of applause!"
Everyone followed after the Master's lead. Merlot did so as well. Cream-colored gloves danced in the corner of his vision. There, Wilhelmshaven's first Honorary Legacy Winner cheered vivaciously with an actual "round" of applause. Beside her was the older girl from before.
Merlot smirked.
The pieces begin to move.
Sirens wailed. Droves peeled out. Captain Sonia's counterattack began setting itself into motion. Each squadron was accompanied by a SWAT team and a GUN brigade following alongside, in tandem. As the regular squad cars sped ahead, an armored truck followed closely behind. Two more jeeps, bearing the GUN Federal Seal on their cover, lagged a bit behind.
"We're not dealing with just an ordinary teenager," the Captain had addressed her comrades-in-arms. "For the sake of everyone's safety and mission, I am treating this boy like a criminal mastermind, an A-Class felon. He is not working alone; I can assure you he's assembled and maintained a tactics team by now. Also, he must be in control of all the brawn in that area. Countless trades and deals have afforded him all kinds of weaponry, but it seems he's leaned more towards firearms. Knowing this kid…they should range from handguns to antiaircraft weapons." Capt. Sonia's eyes watered a bit.
Armed forces had arrived to zero hour. The move-out was fluid and branching. Surely, the barricaded pedestrians they passed were frightened.
"I made these formations very specific: The reason why I need the GUN to slink back is I don't want our opponent to realize the gravity of this situation too fast. If and when he does, that'll be our ace-in-the-hole. We won't go all-out, but he's going to return whatever we fire in surplus. His tactics are clever and devious as they are straightforward. He is willing to expend any and all of his resources…just to win." A cautious glare. "So be careful, men."
"Ma'am—yes, ma'am!"
The White Knights charge.
Capt. Sonia's squad car led the main battalion. Satellite-forwarded coordinates couldn't deny the tracer in Shadow's phone signal. A voiceless map lent solidarity to the car's passengers. In an echelon formation Capt. Sonia led Sergeant Kerrison and Lieutenant Washburn. Infamous cherry-and-cobalt tops flashed. The urgency was so great both Sergeants sped ahead, and took off in nearly opposing directions.
Sgt. Kerrison knew exactly where the Northeaster Heights were. To go back under grave and dangerous circumstances would award him a Medal of Honor, he was sure. He went the "back way" into the suburbs, taking the overhanging highway curve. Lieutenant Washburn took off with both SWAT and GUN battalions and promised to rendezvous with Sonia at a later phase.
The White Rooks are ambushed.
Three other locations were designated as "deathtraps" for some reason, he wondered. Were their orders to deter them and kill them on sight? As both Lt. Washburn and Officer Jung headed towards the abandoned Train Station, the armored trucks quickly flanked each side. "They know we're here!" Washburn heard a soldier bellow over their communications. "Move into Tortoise Formation!"
The Black Rooks attack.
Donning a rough red-and-black vest with the Dragon Fly Hive King's stamp of approval, Bark the Polar Bear roared over crossed arms: "Go, Forward Advance: Galloping Salvo!"
Not too long after, rhythmic blasts released large shells and heralded consecutive explosions.
Militarized helicopters swooped in, just in time. Machine-gun fire burrowed through the enemy's heavy counteroffensive line. In swift succession, surviving soldiers gave cover to the police officers. Remorse cinched the Lieutenant's brows together. His pistol was armed and ready.
"Sonia? Are you sure about this?"
It hadn't been much time after the initial meeting with the Chief. The badger Sergeant and pine marten safeguard had given them a moment. She had been pulled aside by the worried coyote.
"These are minors we're going up against. Are you sure you're okay with—?"
A gentle stroke on his cheek made him stop. Jades couldn't see hazels. The lady-red squirrel's tail fell limp, snaking just above the carpet. A hesitant gulp.
"Sonia?"
"Don't ask me about something I'm struggling to accept. I don't wanna fight them, David…but that's all they know. So I've got no choice but to teach them…in the hardest way possible…"—Her voice had lowered.—"that this behavior is not condoned in society. And Scourge needs to realize that society isn't trying to be cruel to him." She slipped her hand away. "We just want to help him. Rescue him. From his own disparity."
The Black Rooks unleash a second wave.
Those handfuls of surviving fighters formed a tight-knit defense around each other. Circling away from burning wreckage, their eyes darted about. Sharp as tacks. Ready for anything. The railroad signals had gone dark a long time ago; their stop posts had even longer gone. Eight metal strips formed four obsolete tracks. Well-padded, there was no way for anyone to trip or snag. But the salvo's cannonade destroyed parts of it, so the brigade had to be careful.
Suddenly, from the debris embankments leapt six long-tailed combatants. Black-and-red coattails fluttering as they fell, rugged boots hit the ground running.
"We'll cover you," a different soldier cried, wielding a riot shield. "Police, fire!"
But, somehow, the enemy had turned into phantoms. They were too quick for the police officers' eyes. Even Lt. Washburn was struggling to keep up. All the gunshots missed.
"What in the world—?!"
"Impossible!"
"No, wait…!" Lt. Washburn halted them. Shutting his eyes. 'They're using speed. I know exactly what this is!' A bark tightened the shields' parameter.
"Bestial Wraiths: Fiery South, Nán Fāng Zhū Què: Ghost." Liang the Wolf's tall collar hid a sorrowful grimace. "Slash 'n' Burn."
Butterfly knives prone, the near-invisible wolves began to attack the soldiers.
Applause filled the Opera House. "Bravo!" and "Bellissimo!" filled the air at all levels. But, on bated breaths, the simmer in the noise allowed an elegantly mechanized voice to speak.
"Announcing this evening's final performance," chimed the somewhat authentic female voice. "Presenting: Ludwig van Beethoven's 9th Symphony, 'Ode to Joy.'"
Giddy with excitement, Cream the Rabbit peeped into the older girl's ear, "Shade, Shade, Mommy's in this one! Yay!"
"Stay polite, Miss Cream," the echidna shushed her. She patted her hands, prompting her back into a proper sit. Cream gave her a girlishly dutiful nod and clapped alongside fellow auditorium attendees.
Swiftly afterwards, the orchestra began. In strong unison, strings and horns were glossed and blustered. The conductor's baton flicked at the right sections, and the choirs released a quartet of soloists: One of them was Cream's mother, alongside an albatross, a Maine coon, and the very familiar lady-skylark, Mila Ricosa.
'You can do it, Mommy!' the rabbit girl cheered silently from behind intertwined hands. Rosy in cheeks and lenses, Cream rooted from the corner of Shade's eye. Who, herself, was rosy in the cheeks.
Freude…!
Although, the man staring from afar unnerved her. He had gotten out of his seat, though. Walking out somewhat quickly.
Freude…!
"What? What do you mean he's missing?!" exclaimed Merlot.
Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium!
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, Dein Heiligtum.
Deine Zauber binden wieder,
Was die Mode streng geteilt,
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo Dein sanfter Flügel weilt.
It was good that Captain Sonia hadn't underestimated these gangs' firepower. No matter where they were from, the police couldn't go up against military-grade weaponry. So, the federal government stepped in to help with a state official's plea. The police sting upgraded to a military operation in a matter of days. Learning the multiple crime hubs within Northeaster Heights, the local Chiefs worked their forces into thirds. Sgt. Kerrison was assigned to raid the apartment complex, the proposed headquarters of the amalgamated Hives. Supposedly Scourge's hideout, as well. With the usurpation of all Deer, Horse, and Crane Fly's power the Dragon Fly Hive easily became the mother lode of supplies and weapons. Its management of Imperial Esplanade was a shining target to a blinded gunman; it would be the first to go.
Chaos envelops both colors' Pawns. But a Black Knight sets a conflagration to the battlefield.
Honey the Cat's red-and-black ensemble was a bit tattered already. Iron-clawed and sporting a Dragon Fly-sealed hoodie, she teased a skirt hem before letting out a high-pitched cackle. "L is for Lady-Knights! Girl power, armed and ready?"
A champion chorus of hoots and hollers rose from all over Imperial Esplanade as another military formation raced through. Sgt. Kerrison snarled at the rooftops.
"Alright, let's hand it to 'em!" Honey shrieked all too manically. "Vespiary's Fury: Stinging Doe! All Hail the Queen!"
"All Hail the Queen!" reprised the all-girl chorus.
Just before a wall of bazooka fire came down on the brigade. The armored trucks were the first to explode, but the cover allowed Sgt. Kerrison to speed out of it. "You're not gettin' away! Lady-Cavaliers, charge!"
A passel of engines roared; soon after its source, six green-and-pink motorbikes, burst out of unseen alleys and ramps. More battle cries were nearly drowned out by those engines. Usually in hand were bats, pipes, chains, or brass knuckles. Some clawed, some spiked, others solid or bejeweled. But this was do-or-die time, so the girls rode with heat. Sweltering from afar was the shell of trucks; surviving soldiers had to deal with even more gunfire.
Honey sped to catch up with her girls. Her own bike was re-colored black and red, to fall in accordance with Scourge and Fiona's rise to power. A firearm of her own in hand—her lovely "Tammy Gun"—she snuck up behind the Sergeant's car.
"Dammit!" Kerrison couldn't help spitting out.
Well-aimed, Honey cackled, "I'mma kill you dead, meddlin' geezer!"
Glass was buffeted by metallic hail.
Wem der große Wurf gelungen,
Eines Freundes Freund zu sein,
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,
Mische seinen Jubel ein!
Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle
Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!
The White Queen awaits.
'I'm coming, Shadow! Just hang on!' The chant rang louder in the Blue Blur's skull. Knuckles and Espio showed full support, determined in eyes and heart to rescue their dear leader—and even dearer friend. 'We gotchu, Shadow! Just hold out, man!' the echidna affirmed, tightening his grip on Sonic's shoulder. Captain Sonia could see an old mill in the distance. A shallow river once churned its inner workings; now it was barren and polluted, and that large wheel remained stationary. Smokestacks showed minor activity, however. As it sighed gray wisps, Sonia knew where Shadow was. And, consequentially, Scourge.
"That last communication with Bruce came from the Imperial Esplanade," she explained to the high school seniors. "Apparently, that elaborate setup with the ex-Deer Fly motorcycle gang was meant to purposely coax us in the wrong direction. It would've been the end for us if we went in, instead."
Sonic didn't say a word. Neither did Knuckles nor Espio.
"It sounds like something Scourge would do…as an heir to that wrecked throne." Sonia held her tongue a moment. "He's so far steeped…please help him, Sonic, bambino."
The White Knight counts down.
Freude trinken alle Wesen
An den Brüsten der Natur;
Alle Guten, alle Bösen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.
Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.
As do the Black Bishop and Queen.
"We're totally ready for them, Shnookums," Fiona Fox let him know, tagging a sexy snicker on the end. Battle-ready in a red-and-black ensemble, as well, she smooched Scourge's cheek and wrapped herself inside his cloak. Respecting his space and desires, she tossed away the aubergine velvet and hoisted an aluminum bat onto her shoulder. Strapped to her thigh was a smaller caliber revolver. Engravings along its barrel read "Magna Charta" on the left bar and "All Hail the Queen" on the right.
"Everyone here is in position and ready, Liege," Sax the Slender Mongoose notified him, as well. He tied his jacket sleeves up, around his shoulders familiarly, holstered his own weapons, and awaited Scourge's signal. Fiona swaggered down to stand beside him. Feeling a tab snobbish, Fiona bumped her bat against her shoulder. "Sax. Let's hope that pansy doesn't get in our way?"
Auburn tails swished at the thought. Her more bushy one bumped up to his charred tip in silent consensus. She giggled at the golden gleam she spotted in his cocksure smirk.
Shining visors scanned the old mill's premises. Sentries guarded its perimeter. Fingertips clacked against several keyboards. Outside, a hidden signal readied them for the arrival of Capt. Sonia, Sonic, Knuckles, and Espio. Coasting alongside her car were four armored trucks, and the military jeep that pulled over a few paces behind. Almost in the middle of nowhere, the old mill was actually situated a few miles out it the City's limits. Technically, it belonged to the City's Industrial District. After the Smoke Bomb War, the district was quarantined, like the others, and deemed obsolete. Thus, losing business in order to gain more. Yet with the revival of the Hives, and forced dominance by the Dragon Fly, old functions were brought back to life. Power flowed back into Northeaster Heights, thanks to clever hackers and crooked machinists. Venues for "entertainment" began to pop up, too. Drugs, sex, weapons, food—fairly common umbrellas to fall under when looking to buy. Everyone knew almost everyone else; and now that a second uprising was upon them, they were banding together again. Just like "old times."
"Just give us the word, Liege."
Ka-Chak, went the eggplant-tailed sniper's rifle.
The White King breaks the speed limit.
Rolling closer. Closer. Tiny sparkles in the distance. Sonic could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "E'rybody, duck!" Knuckles bellowed. He pulled Espio down, tucking his head under him. Both Sonia and Sonic followed, Sonia's hand holding down Sonic's head, as well.
The Black King breaks the laws of morality.
A wicked mist moistened Scourge's eyes. "They're here, aren't they…?" His pupils narrowed, ever so slowly. "Kill on sight."
The White Queen's ribbons are ghosts. Nuances of the past and present. Of reflective cold. The Crown blazes with alternate endings. Rejection? Acceptance? Fear. Aversion. Mercy? Forgiveness? Yet, he is left all alone.
Silver waited for Shadow to awaken. Huddled before the only entrance and exit to that room. Knees to chest and chin upon knees, somber canaries danced. Tears bobbled, unsure of what to do. The room was frigid.
With the Colorless Bishop.
Épisode XV Set…
JunAegileus777: Whew! That was quite a doozy, for something so short. That was a chpt I'd been dying to write...as we approach the final bits of Book One! Following will be a "trilogy" of Caesurae. Perhaps in "Arcs." I hope you enjoyed my chess piece references. They're about to get more complicated as the ending chpts flesh themselves out. Not too bad of a hiatus, either. Still trying to catch up with myself...! Anyway, keep calm and R&R!
Quick Ref: Lyrics are from Friedrich von Schiller's poem/Beethoven's symphony "Ode to Joy"; I imagined Shiro Sagisu's vers., Evangelion: 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo to this chpt, specifically.