====Pucci====
Barcelona. The capital and largest city within Catalonia, a region of Spain that has its own flag and its own language distinct from Spanish called Catalan which you can see on their street signs if you were to walk about their streets.
The city -much like Edinburgh - is well known for its draw for tourists, and no wonder for it is a truly beautiful city and for much the same general reasons: The architecture, the history. But it holds one advantage over fair Edinburgh. The climate is far superior as it is situated on the Mediterranean.
A piece of advice if you do ever visit. Try to visit a Tapas restaurant. It is a Spanish delicacy where food is served in small portions. Quite often visitors intending a full meal will buy several different dishes, sharing out the portions among those at their table. In so doing it creates a more open and familiar atmosphere than more rigid eating habits, where each person traditionally sticks to their own meal.
But this beautiful city was not a safe place for tourists tonight. For tonight it was visited by a few who would not appreciate the open nature of tapas, nor the architecture of Antoni Gaudi. They did not come for the weather and they did not come to soak in a different culture.
"You're not counting prime numbers," Stroheim said as they finalised their approach. "You're not nervous? I would think that launching into space would be quite disconcerting. It was your first time."
It wasn't too bad. He had borrowed a memory from an injured pilot. Something technical like this wouldn't make him nervous.
"I have faith in our training," Pucci said, judging it best not to go into that kind of detail with his allies. "I should think that you would be more concerned with Gyro. Horseback travel suits you better, does it not Mister Zeppeli?"
"I don't remember asking for your sympathy," Gyro answered. Not harshly, calmly as though he was needling Pucci instead. "This thing they call Apollo's Chariot, it means nothing to me."
"Then let us focus on the task at hand," Stroheim interrupted. "According to the reports, there are two Knights of the Round present. I hereby volunteer to tackle Dorothea Ernst. Which of you would like the Vampire of Britannia?"
The Vampire of Britannia...? Interesting. "My apologies, Gyro. I would like to tackle him. Would you mind dealing with the rest?"
"There are times when a detour is the shortest path," Gyro said. "Very well. Pray for our success, man of the cloth. Though I doubt we need it, it never hurts to bring extra fortune along with you."
"Who needs luck?" Stroheim asked. "We are already destined to succeed! Look lively, for we have arrived. Show them Europe's power! Show them the might of the continent of freedom!"
And so they split up as they flew down upon this city, with Pucci piloting his personalised Alexander, Stroheim a heavily modified Panzer Hummel and Gyro... a horse themed Knightmare with additional spin themed weapons. In spite of himself Pucci continued to find amusement in his current situation. There was so much... delicious irony in it.
"Prepare yourself, Vampire of Britannia," Pucci warned, seeing his target down in the city below. "I have met the real thing, and a madman like you cannot possibly compare. You should have stayed where it was safe, hunting men. Now you and I are destined to meet."
Chapter 69: Faith and Reason
====Giorgia====
Do you know the worst part of working in customer service? The customers. Hands down. The second worst part is the boredom. It can get to the point where you'll gladly talk to a member of the public just so you have something to do.
"Slow day," Giorgia said to herself. Well, it had to be herself. She was the only one in the reception hall at the Hotel Splendore on this crisp and pleasant night. The other guests were staying in their rooms, nobody new had booked in today (at least during her shift) and there was nothing to do but watch the news.
"In a startling move Britannia appears to have sent attacks to three major cities in the European Union," the announcer said. "Citizens in Edinburgh, Barcelona and Athens are advised to take shelter. The official word from Paris is that Jonathan Joestar and several of his Paladins are personally attending to the matter."
"Boring!" Giorgia grunted, and then changed the channel.
"This footage was sent to us from a brave citizen in Barcelona. As you can see, reinforcements have arrived! "
Yawn! Click.
"Britannia's goal in these attacks is still a mystery to our military experts. Speaking purely from a strategic standpoint these cities do not offer the Empire any –"
Yawn! Click! Talk about something else!
"It's clear that we must launch a counterattack with all the force we can bring to bear! Attacking these cities without provocation is another clear sign of the heartless brutality–"
"Uuuuurgh!" Giorgia grunted and put her head down on her desk to let it out of her system. "Maybe if they were attacking here something interesting might happen. At this point I'll take almost anything –"
The front door chime rang and, in that special way that long term customer service workers tend to master, she immediately straightened herself up and put on her very best smile. Don't ever show the public a frown when you can show them a smile.
"Welcome to the Hotel Splendore!" Giorgia chirped. "How can I help you today sir?"
Only after finishing the introduction did her brain catch up with what her eyes were seeing. A young man had entered the lobby and was quickly approaching the reception desk with a cocky swagger. It took all that she had to stop herself from laughing or sweating at the sheer absurdity of what she was looking at.
Where to start, where to start? Perhaps with the eyepatch over his left eye? It was very large and - was that a pendant hanging from it? Who did that? Who puts an accessory on an eyepatch? Ah! There were even more of them hidden inside that garish high collar! They looked like they were tied to the other side of the eyepatch, off behind his head. What?! Who on earth wears something like that! Out in public no less!
Then there was the cape. Black with gold trimming, a flat shoulder and purple on the inside. Purple! Dark purple, as if he was trying to put some kind of border on his skinny figure! As for the rest of what he was wearing, it was a mostly black suit with golden diamonds spread out at various points down his body.
"Charmed to make your acquaintance, Giorgia." he made a fruity gesture with his hands - and suddenly was holding a flower that he placed on the desk in front of her. "One room, for one night. I shall pay upfront in cash. I trust this can be arranged?"
"Y-Yes, it can," Giorgia managed to get out without breaking her tone. Who was this guy? She pushed the guest book across the desk. "I'll... Need a name for you to sign in and out."
"But of course." Then he swept back his cloak while taking hold of the pen, grinned like a lunatic and put that free hand of his behind his back while signing his name. You were only signing your name! Why the theatrics?! "Is that money sufficient for a night's stay?"
"Huh? Oh? Yes. This will be quite enough," Giorgia answered, suddenly realising that she had been staring instead of counting the money. "I'm sorry, it's just that... you look familiar? Somehow? It feels as though you look like a celebrity."
She'd only said it to fill some space and to explain why she had been staring at him, but now that she looked past the silliness of his garb there was something about him that looked familiar. Giorgia could not put her finger on it but there was definitely a strong sense that she had seen that face before. Perhaps she had unconsciously noticed, but been distracted by those ridiculous crystal pendants?
"I get that quite often," the guest answered smoothly. He flicked back his hair and laughed a cocky, arrogant laugh. Then his hand flicked forward, turning around the book. "It would be a surprise if you hadn't seen me before. It would be a surprise indeed, should anyone in Europe have failed to hear of me by the end of the year!"
Suddenly he was holding a wand. Like the sort you'd see a little kid use. He twirled it around in his hand and pointed down at the guestbook in dramatic fashion.
"Consider yourself fortunate madame," he continued. Really, really hard to avoid laughing now. "For on this night, this fated night, your hotel's doorway was graced by I!"
"J-Julius Kingsley?" she read aloud.
"Yes indeed! Magician extraordinaire!" A spin, a step back from the desk and then a deep sweeping bow that brought the cape up nearly over his head. "I live to entertain. I live to thrill the masses while fooling their senses."
Ah. This... this explained a lot. He was probably the kind of person who never quite got out of character. She'd heard of method actors, but never method magicians... But it also made sense that they would also exist.
"Oh... that's nice," she said. "Th-thank you for choosing Hotel Splendore."
"Hrm, how kind of you," Mister Kingsley said. "Ah, that pitcher of water... You do not mind if I have some? I have travelled quite a distance, you understand, and I am quite parched."
"No, no. Go right ahead," she said, still utterly befuddled by this strange, strange man. If anything she was grateful for the excuse to duck underneath the desk to grab a clean glass if only so that she could let out a small fraction of the laughter that had been building up inside of her since this man, this Julius Kingsley, had 'graced their hotel's doorway'. How absurd! How pointlessly over the top!
But when she rose to her feet Giorgia realised that she had not yet begun to be befuddled. Because when she did arise, she noted that Julius Kingsley had grabbed hold of the pitcher with both hands and was drinking directly from it. Greedily. As though in the interim he had accidentally eaten a curry that was too hot.
All she could do was watch slack-jawed as he downed the whole lot of it. The entire pitcher of water, swallowed by their latest guest. It wasn't a problem really. The water was meant for guests or staff to enjoy while waiting in the lobby. But drinking that much at once, she'd never seen the like!
"I give you my thanks madame," he said when he was done. Then, twirling his room key around on his index finger, he stalked off down the corridor taking note of the signs leading the way to the numbered rooms. "You have been a tremendous help."
Giorgia stared after him for a moment, blinking slowly while her brain tried desperately to process... all of that, whatever it was. Ultimately she came to a very unusual conclusion.
"Being bored beats being baffled," she said. "How did he pull that trick, the water really is all gone..."
Ah, but let's follow 'Julius Kingsley' for a little while longer. Let's follow him into his hotel room, where his demeanour changes as soon as the door is closed behind him. Let's follow him as he sinks to his knees and takes several deep sucking breaths. Let's see him tear off the eyepatch that he stole not ten minutes ago using his Stand, and then clutch at his chest as tears stream down his chest as though he is in tremendous, unfathomable agony.
"Nunnally," he weeps. "Grk... Nunnally! I swear... I will save you!"
====Euphemia====
Time has a funny way of slowing down when you're worried. The anxiety makes each grain of sand feel as heavy as a mountain while it trickles down the hourglass. All of her life Euphemia had to deal with worry. About her sister, off in some distant land laying claim to new territory for the Empire. About Suzaku, fighting the good fight so that he could make a name for himself. She would normally find something else to do. Another matter to keep herself preoccupied. Today was no different.
"Pawn to King's Rook 4," Schneizel said.
Euphemia stared down at the board as if it was a magic eye puzzle. If she looked at it just right then everything would fall into place. It would be obvious what the best move was. If she concentrated. She was playing White. Schneizel, Black. She narrowed her eyes and moved her head closer to the board, trying to get as good an idea of how things looked as possible. All that she could see was black and white, and crossing her eyes like this was starting to make her head hurt.
Schneizel coughed. "Euphemia, are you quite certain you wish to learn how to play? You already seem to be fully aware of the way that pieces move, and yet you take ten minutes to decide what to do. Wouldn't you rather play Snap? I think that you would enjoy that more than chess."
"Thank you for your consideration Schneizel," Euphemia said. Ah... Maybe if she moved the horsie like this? Clop, clop, clop... "However... I am aiming to learn how to play for a reason."
By the time she had finished her sentence, Schneizel had already moved; His Pawn took her Knight. It was her turn again.
"Would you care to enlighten me?" Schneizel asked. "Our games of chess as children always made you cry. You felt a great deal of empathy for the captured pieces, who 'were not allowed to play anymore'."
Luckily there was nobody else around right now: They were sitting in Schneizel's personal office on board the Avalon. This was good because she could puff out her cheeks and give her best 'indignant Princess' look without having people comment on it.
"Of late I have noticed that tactics and strategy are becoming more and more important," she said, lifting up her Bishop and - with silent apologies to the Black Pawn for taking it out of the game - captured the piece that had taken hers. Schneizel then immediately retaliated by moving another Pawn forward into a space directly diagonal to where the Bishop had been.
"I have been relying on other people to survive," she continued, this time advancing a Pawn - which Schneizel immediately captured. "Suzaku's bravery," her Knight advanced, and Schneizel's Queen took a Rook that had been behind it. "Mister Joestar telling me to use the towel and the curry powder to distract the werewolf." She moved a Bishop, and lost it to Schneizel's Knight. "That Kozuki girl outsmarting Lady Kaguya." Her Queen advanced, taking Schneizel's... But then his Rook blindsided her Queen.
"Checkmate," Schneizel said, feigning interest in the game. "Your King is pinned down by those Pawns, and none of your pieces are able to take my Rook. A classic Mate, turning an opponent's defenses into a trap."
"You see? This is what I am talking about," Euphemia sank back into her chair. "I feel like a china doll. Fragile decoration. What good am I to anyone if I can't help without someone rushing in to save me?"
"Is that what you think? That a member of Royalty must be a superb tactician?" Schneizel asked. He smiled gently at her and softly shook his head. "Euphemia, you must have heard the whispers at court. Dukes and Marquis speculating on when I will make a move for the throne. Would it surprise you to learn that I have no interest in sitting upon it?"
"Not especially," Euphemia answered, more surprised at her own answer than the idea itself. Schneizel... truly did not give her the impression that he was interested in the throne. He took his responsibilities seriously, and it felt as though he was perfectly content with his own position within the command structure. The only way he would be any less comfortable sitting on the throne would be if it were made of swords.
"All war is deception," Schneizel said. "Your soul is too honest and pure. This world needs people like you in positions of power, Euphemia. Please, allow me to finish before you protest. You are more intelligent and astute than you give yourself credit. The kindness in your heart draws out the best in those around you, and without meaning to you have inspired me to work even harder in the name of the greater good."
He stopped for a moment, and it felt like Euphemia should say something. Those words of praise sounded completely genuine, yet it was certainly not something that she saw within herself. After a short silence Schneizel resumed speaking, leaving her reeling yet again.
"To my mind your noble spirit is missing from much of the modern nobility." He reached across the chess board, picking up his King from one side of the board and then moving it to another place. Stange. Even though the game had already ended? "You already have what you need, save the confidence to use those skills. You will make a fine Empress one day - had I any say in the matter."
"Empress?" Euphemia whispered. She was suddenly keenly aware that she was gripping the chair much too tightly. They were wrenched away, but they trembled and so were left to lie in her lap. Though Euphemia could hardly help but note that her knuckles had turned white from her tight grip. "Now Schneizel, it's not fun to tease. I'm not a little girl any more."
"Who is teasing?" Schneizel asked. He tapped the White King on the chess board. "Incidentally, you would not have acquired what you needed from learning chess anyway. Look here. What do you see?"
What she saw? "You've put the Black King next to the White King."
"This is an illegal position in the game of chess," Schneizel said. "The Kings are never allowed to move into a space next to each other. In real war there are times where it is necessary to move your own King into check. For an intelligent enemy will only ever take the bait if it is tantalising enough for them to reach towards."
That... did not make any sense to Euphemia at all. Putting your own King in check? Didn't that mean - No, what did that mean? The objective of the game was to put the enemy King into a position they could not hope to escape from, such that it would definitely be captured on your next turn no matter what. Did that not make the King a crucially vital piece on the board? Even though it could only move one square?
Euphemia felt a pang of sympathy for the King when thinking about it. There was a bullseye painted on its chest, and it must be forced to witness as all of his fellows sacrifice themselves in the name of keeping him safe. Even his Queen... his betrothed would lay down her life to keep him safe. Yet he could not move in, could not assist in the battle beyond keeping himself out of harm's way. He must feel like a china doll: A pretty decoration that others must keep safe...
There was a knock at the door. "You may enter Kanon," Schneizel said. A moment later his assistant arrived, bowing to the both of them with a stack of papers in his hand.
"Please forgive my intrusion your highness. The Sakuradite transport is in position."
Euphemia tilted her head. Oh yes, that had been brought up before. "The last supply of Sakuradite from Japan?" she asked. She noted that neither one of them moved to correct her by saying 'Area Eleven' as it had technically been at the time the Sakuradite was mined.
"The very same," Schneizel replied. "Kanon, have the security precautions already been taken as well?"
"Of course," Kanon said. "I fully appreciate how important this delivery is to the war effort. There is already a mass production facility in place at Djibouti to produce the Vincent models required for your next move. They'll be able to begin production as of tomorrow morning."
"Make sure that the security is visible," Schneizel said. "If they ask why, explain to them that we want to make sure the locals understand their place. Something like that should appeal to them."
"Of course," Kanon bowed.
As they spoke, Euphemia stared at the chess board. A stray thought came to her out of nowhere as she looked at the Kings.
"Do the Knights of the Round know about this?" she pondered, remembering what they had learned in the palace about one of the enemy Stand users. Those discs...
"Of course," Schneizel said. "They were briefed separately, prior to the briefing on the attack."
"And... does anyone else know?"
Schneizel patted her on the shoulder. It seemed as though he had picked up on her thinking. Or, more like, she was starting to catch up to his.
"A few select teams have been informed via various channels and means. Teams who are suspected of having members secretly feeding information to Europe. From your questions and the way that you have tensed up, it seems that you have come to the correct conclusion: This Sakuradite and mass production factory is a tantalising trap."
Kanon took over at this point, explaining with a cool detachment... almost admiration for what he was saying. "We suspect that Europe will attempt to use their fast delivery ability to send squads in to disrupt construction. Potentially more of their 'Paladins'. Now that we have a solid idea of how it works we think we can more effectively defend against it."
"If our defenses hold then we will implement them at other strategic locations," Schneizel said. "If not, we learn from our mistakes and build something better. All warfare is deception, Euphemia. This is no different."
Was this what it meant to learn 'strategy' and 'tactics'? Euphemia felt a little strange about it all. Something felt rotten in the pit of her stomach. Wheels within wheels and schemes within schemes. What about the people who were getting ground up within these ever turning gears? Somehow Euphemia felt afraid to ask. Somehow, Euphemia didn't know what she would ask if she could.
====Stroheim====
When Rudol von Stroheim was a young boy, his father would ask him an odd question prior to dinner each night. As he was a noted historian, he would test his son's knowledge by asking this of him: "I will randomly select a year within Germany's recorded history. Recount one factual historical event that occured within this country in that year."
It was a friendly game between father and son. The father would test his son on the long and storied history of their great and influential nation. The son would then dutifully answer. There was no expectation that it would be correct, no denial of food, no reward or punishment. It was a simple game.
And yet the young Stroheim won every single time. This was not because he had any special talent, no eidetic memory nor a supernatural power that helped him to pass. Well, that is... unless you count feverish nationalistic fervour from a young age as a special talent.
Oh yes, he was proud of Germany. He was proud to be German! He was proud of his nation's military might, proud of his nation's financial standing and the overwhelmingly high level of influence these allowed his nation to wield within Europia United. He was proud of its culture, proud that his nation's scientists had a heavy hand within the development of Apollo's Chariot, proud of his own cybernetic implants, proud of every grain of sand and drop of water and strip of bark from every tree.
Proud... and that pride had led him down a dark path when he was a younger man. It had led him to show cruelty to those he saw as his nation's foes. He thought little of feeding foreign peasants to a vampire to facilitate their experiments on the being they would come to call Santana. He threatened to cut off the tongue of a serving girl who accidentally cut him while shaving him. He kidnapped and threatened torture of an old wealthy man in the hope he could give them new information...
And then a bumbling, buffoonish Britannian reminded him that honour and integrity exist within the unlikeliest of places. He had watched that fool fight against the seemingly invincible Pillar Man with a sense of shame. In himself for being too weak, in his men for succumbing so quickly when this oaf was succeeding... How could he do anything less, then? When the time came, for the sake of the human race he had sacrificed his own life so that Joseph Joestar could save the world.
Then they took his remains and made him... A better man than he had been before. In more ways than one. A cyborg. The first in the entire world! He was still as proud as ever, but now it was aimed in a more productive direction.
A direction that had been ignited by Joseph Joestar. A direction that was being fanned and fuelled by Joseph's grandfather Jonathan.
"Mister Stroheim, the enemy has been sighted."
Of course they had been. Of course. An old axion came to mind: If you could see the enemy, there was a high chance they could see you as well. And so -
The group in front of them opened fire, and they returned in kind. A dogfight, was it? That might fit well against the Alexanders as they were developed to get into close range, but the Panzer-Hummel variant that Stroheim was flying? A totally different animal!
The original model came across like a tank with limbs added to it, which was fitting as Germany had mastered the use of tanks in warfare to a degree that few other nations had. Though it had arms this model did not have hands. Only rifles to fire. Cannons built into the hips and a concealed missile silo in the chest. It was only fitting that the Panzer-Wespe would build upon this design. Taking the same core but building upon it to make it seem less like a walking tank and more like a Knightmare frame. Though it may seem basic, this model had hands that could be used in a more strategic light, as well as a large cannon strapped to its back!
Yes... Europe's mass production Knightmare of choice was made for long range combat, and the Panzer-Wespe was even better. As Rudol von Stroheim would only be too glad to demonstrate to them.
"You wish me to put an end to you?" Stroheim asked the enemy firing on him. "How kind, I'd be delighted!"
The screens in his cockpit zoomed in on the enemies firing on him, and Stroheim's own cyborg vision took in the vision. Their movements were calculated. Velocity, differentiated. Likely path was known and set. Then without its pilot moving a muscle the Panzer-Wespe opened fire with its rifle in a single short burst that tore through the air. Stroheim did not even give them the slightest consideration after this. Because he knew without looking that the bullets had struck their mark due to his perfect calculation and precise - far beyond human ability - aiming.
Besides which he had bigger fish to fry. He swerved to the right barely dodging an odd looking slash harken, which was deftly caught by the Alexander near him. Following the cable back to its source he saw his target: Dorothea Ernst's Knightmare, the Palomides.
"You fool, let go of that before she –"
Too late. The cannon built into the harken finger opened fire, blasting into the cockpit and destroying the pilot instantly.
"Knight of the Round! Cease this senseless destruction!" Stroheim commanded. "I hereby challenge you to a formal duel! One on one!"
"Stand down," Dorothea ordered. They did so, albeit with reluctance. His own men did the same. Palomides rose up to meet him, flying level with his own Knightmare. This four armed behemoth reminded him of Guilford's personal model. A refinement on the design, or perhaps a wholly different take on it? Either way Stroheim was pleased. While he was still certain that German science was the best in the world, that did not mean anything much if the second best was too far behind them. "A formal duel? How interesting. What shall the stakes be?"
Good, that had worked. Cornelia and Guilford's advice on the personalities of the Knights of the Round had helped fill in some gaps in their strategy that Jonathan Joestar was unable to. Dorothea Ernst was renowned for her fascination with 'heroism' and 'bravery'. A challenge to a formal duel would be irresistible to someone like that.
He should know. It would work on him as well.
"First, let me talk without interruption," Stroheim said. "Your leaders would not send you here without good reason. A small force such as this can't possibly expect to hold a city as large as Barcelona by yourselves. Which means that you are here for one of two reasons: To distract us, or to find a certain something that cannot be found by espionage. That shall be your prize: Win against me and we shall allow you to leave with whatever it is that you seek."
"Should I lose, you capture us and interrogate us," Dorothea said. "Although it seems to me that you come out with something either way: Assuming we were after something then I would need to tell you what we are after, which you can still use to your own tactical advantage."
"A fair balance for allowing you all to leave unmolested. Would you not agree, Knight of Four?"
"A duel would also ensure that the people of the city are not caught up in our fight. Since this favours you, and you issued the challenge, I invoke the right to select the method of our duel."
Got her on the hook. He had to respect that bravery. Surely she must suspect some kind of trap, but she hates the idea of civilians being drawn in so much that she would rather subject herself to it instead. Brilliant! Your reputation is truly earned!
"Within reason. It must be fair," Stroheim warned. Not that he expected otherwise. "Our support units may act as a team of judges. I shall order mine to be impartial, should you do the same."
"Agreed. We shall duel out in the Mediterranean over the ocean. I shall explain the rules on the way."
Off she went and all he could do was follow. What kind of duel would it be, he wondered? There were many possibilities. Out over the ocean? Ah, far better than in the city. They might still hit something that they did not mean to. Right? He listened attentively to Dorothea's explanation.
"It shall be a two out of three contest. Each round will end when one of us is struck by the other in the Knightmare's torso or head. Our support teams will record the events using their Factspheres and announce the close of a turn with the victor - then broadcast the moment of impact so that all may review. Otherwise they are to remain impartial and must not involve themselves in the action.
"Each round will start thirty feet above the water, with a distance of twenty feet between us both. We shall start each round with our backs to one another. A strike can be of any kind, using any part of the Knightmare or anything that has been fired by the Knightmare. Does this sound agreeable?"
Did it sound agreeable? Considering that her Knightmare was larger, it would sound as if she was setting herself up for failure. Then again the extra pair of arms could provide further blocking ability to protect itself. Whatever the case may be it ultimately did not matter in the slightest: Stroheim was a truly superior being as it was. His cyborg body allowed him greater speed, greater reaction time and greater precision than any human being could attain. Two out of three, was it? Then he'd win! Hands down!
"This sounds quite agreeable," Stroheim said. He brought his Knightmare to the right altitude. "I anticipate the challenge, Knight of Four! Hold nothing back. I intend to do the same."
Palomides turned its back and flew out to the appropriate distance. Waves crashed beneath them. Both Knightmares waited patiently for their support teams to get into position. Their judges. In a fateful contest. Stroheim knew he was smiling, but heaven help him how was he supposed to help himself? This was going to be tremendously exhilarating! This was so thoroughly unmilitary that the anticipation was coursing through his systems like a second heartbeat. Even if they were both chewed out for this later on it could do nothing to diminish his anticipation!
"Begin!" one of his pilots announced, signalling that they were ready to record the proceedings. In which case he would give them something to record!
The Panzer-Wespe turned around first. Not because the Knightmare was intrinsically faster than the enemy. Because the pilot was! This was the glory of his cyborg body. It was built to match up to Santana! A being as far above vampires as vampires were above humans, as humans were above cows and sheep!
Yet their science pushed to even further boundaries. It was not sufficient that he be faster, stronger and more durable than any human could hope to be. No. Through his cybernetic body he was able to fully interface with his Knightmare's controls, allowing him a mastery of his machine that no human pilot dare dream of replicating!
He drew a bead on the centre of Palomides' mass and opened fire with both rifles, a short burst that would win him this first round - in theory. In practise the Knight of Four had barely enough time to turn around with the Knightmare's external right hand covering its body, blocking the bullets.
"Had it been that easy, I would have been disappointed," Stroheim chuckled. Ach! That giant hand was providing a surprising amount of coverage all by itself. And now she was raising up the other hand, stretching out all of the fingers - out they come like fireworks!
"Cute trick fraulein, but that is all it is," Stroheim laughed, easily dodging around the propelled fingers and their cables to boot. They sailed past his Panzer-Wespe, even landing in the ocean. He had his Knightmare put its hands behind its head. It was clear beyond a doubt which Knightmare was suited best for long range combat. "You have missed! Care to try again?"
"There's a point where confidence turns into arrogance," Dorothea warned. "Right there, you crossed that line."
That kind of bluff and bluster wouldn't work on him. Stroheim made to open fire - but stopped as his superior senses noticed something peculiar beneath him, in the waters of the Mediterranean. At first he thought that she was bringing those finger-harkens out to shoot him from the water.
But the bright flash from beneath the waves dispelled that notion entirely. To the view of a normal person jets of water had inexplicably arisen, spouts firing up out of nowhere. To his cybernetic vision it was something more than that: She had fired some kind of weapon underwater just then. An energy weapon with a high destructive kick had sent that water up. Though there was one other matter to consider: While these jets of water would drench his Knightmare and knock him back it would inflict barely any damage. Not even a scratch. Yet the cyborg seethed and grunted within his cockpit as he realised what Dorothea Ernst was aiming for.
"Those jets of water count as a 'projectile fired by her Knightmare'!" Stroheim yelled, bringing himself around to face the jets of water. "If I let the water hit me, it'll be the same as if one of those harkens hit me!"
Almost immediately thereafter he had to dodge yet more of those blasted finger harkens. Which made sense, of course. It was one thing for a woman like her to attack an enemy from behind. It was quite another if that enemy took their eyes off you on purpose. The jet of water got close, but he was able to dodge around them all. Cables and water spouts - until he found himself surrounded on all sides.
"Impressive dodging," Dorothea admitted. "I didn't think I'd have to corner you this much to be able to hit you."
Stroheim looked down into the water. There was a cable extending down there directly beneath him. And there was nowhere left for him to dodge to. His Knightmare couldn't fit between any of the tiny gaps in the wall of spouts and cables surrounding him, and the water below showing a large glowing spot.
"So this is the skill of a Knight of the Round?" Stroheim asked. The jet of water beneath him began to rise, coming up towards him like a screaming banshee. "The finest in Britannia... In which case I must admit..."
The Panzer-Wespe's backpack cannon did some screaming of its own. Bullets tore through the air and then into the water. That fast ascending water spout was quickly turned into a fine mist, a refreshing ocean spray.
"... I am not impressed at all!" Stroheim cackled maniacally.
By scattering the water and turning it into mist he had effectively defended himself from the attack. Next, Stroheim took advantage of the low visibility. It was a trivial matter for him to keep track on Palomides movements in the mist. An absolutely easy thing for him to do! Yet also very difficult for a regular human being! Then he picked his moment where Dorothea must think herself absolutely safe...
And he fired out his first of two 'secret weapons' unseen within the ocean's spray.
A moment later there was the satisfying sound of metal striking metal. He knew he'd struck true right away, of course. Now Knight of Four. Let us see if you have half of the honour and integrity you were rumoured to have.
"I concede the first round," she announced. "No need for the judge's decision. It was my complete loss. Though I didn't see what you hit me with, you struck clean with something."
"Ah, ah, ah!" Stroheim tutted. "Your prize is access to my secrets, recall?" The Panzer-Wespe tapped a rifle to the side of the Knightmare's head. "I shall tell you if you win, but if that is how you perform then it is clear I shall win this duel in the very next round."
"You think that I'm outclassed?" Dorothea asked. "A piece of advice. You should be more careful. I'm quite sure that the Pillar Men were quite confident when they faced off against Joseph Joestar."
The smile on Stroheim's face disappeared though only for a second. It was swiftly replaced with a different kind of smile entirely. "Oho? I see! You've used your clearance level and contacts to read certain confidential material! So what if you know of JOJO's grandson? Is it your intention to frighten me with such information?"
"Not in the least," Dorothea replied. "If anything I wished to set your mind at ease. It seems as though Joseph Joestar and his family has sought asylum with the Black Knights. They seemed to be concerned that we might use them against Jonathan."
"You almost sound relieved."
"Then your cybernetic parts aren't picking up my emotions so well as you might think. After reading the exploits of Joseph Joestar and his struggle against the Pillar Men... His cunning, his guile and his wit overcoming enemies much stronger than him."
"He is not quite so impressive in person," Stroheim said. "Though in other ways, he is also so much more impressive in person. The way he effortlessly cold reads an opponent is quite the sight to behold, fraulein. I'll be sure to tell you my version of those long ago events - once you are inside of one of our cells."
They resumed their positions and awaited the signal to begin the second round. It seemed unwise to begin the next round the same way he had the last. If she could block his attacks using those giant hands then he ought to make use of a different tactic to get around it. She was much less likely to drop her guard and would try to use the cannons in those fingers to strike him in a way he would not expect. Which meant his best opening move was probably -
"Slash harkens this time? Bold choice."
"Begin round - " A strange feeling overtook Stroheim. A sense of familiarity settled into his mind, something unshakable and unquestionable. Then, like the blink of an eye, it was gone. "Begin round two!"
... What was that? What was that? Dorothea had correctly guessed that he was going to use slash harkens...? And just then, that feeling of something being off. Unmistakably wrong! The universe itself had felt like it had wobbled for a moment. Had she read his next move? Predicted his likely initial attack based on the way his Knightmare had moved? Was that even possible?!
Regardless! Stroheim whirled his Knightmare around and opened fire with both slash harkens without an inch of hesitation, nor regret. Alas, Palomides had already fired its own hip mounted slash harkens while it was turning around. They struck aside Stroheim's with an astonishing precision.
Palomides raised its larger oute - Palomides raised its large outer hands. That feeling again! What was this?
"Your next line is, what are you up to? Is this some kind of special ability?"
"What are you up to? Is this some kind of special ability?"
Rudol von Stroheim's circulatory system had not relied upon blood for a long, long time now. Even so his face was turning as white as a sheet. What was she doing? This must be some kind of special power! But.. what kind of special power was it? A Geass? Or a Stand? Or something else entirely?
All ten of Palomides fingers fired out, though this time none of them went into the water. Instead they seemed content to hang in the air at the very ends of their lengthy cables. Constructing around him a web of cables, just as before. Though this time her intention was extremely obvious.
"Are you sure you want to aim at me right now?" Dorothea asked. "I rather think you have other matters to worry about. You'll automatically lose the duel if you happen to die."
The first of the cannons opened fire forcing Stroheim to dodge backwards. No sooner had he done so than another one aiming squarely behind him also opened fire. It wasn't too difficult for him to dodge, but he held off on a counter attack for now. The enemy was using a special ability against him. That was certain. Yet the question did settle into his mind: Why had she not used it during the first round?
There were several possible answers. Inherent limitations that he wasn't aware of. The method he had used to defeat her in the last round may not be something that she could counter effectively with this power. In which case, why not? Every line of suggestion brought back that same question: Why not? It was frustrating beyond belief. She was clearly using a power of some kind but he couldn't quite grasp its form! Until he grasped its form, he could not develop a counter!
A cannon fired and he deftly dodged - a cannon fired and he barely dodged. Ah! That cannon had already fired a second ago, hadn't it?! He had to end this round and this duel. Quickly. That was it! Yes, he would win the duel and hand her over to Pucci or Nunnally. They would have her answer his questions during interrogation, and then she would be given every luxury as a prisoner of war.
"You've been pretty quiet for a while now," Dorothea suddenly said. "How about you say 'when did you get so close' for me?"
What? He turned around and all of a sudden Palomides was within the web of cables surrounding him, quickly drawing them in while the Knightmare's hands were out by its side, stretched out like wings. In its smaller hands were a pair of MVS Swords, and - Stroheim whipped around the rifle in his Panzer-Wespe's right hand revealing a concealed knife.
"When did you get so close?" Stroheim asked. Though in truth he had a massive smile on his face. A smile the enemy would be unable to see in what they thought was their moment of victory.
Really now, how obvious can you be? This Knightmare of hers was blatantly designed for short range combat. It was obvious what she would be aiming to do if she intended to win. She was still pulling in those blasted finger harkens, which meant those outer hands weren't quite as effective as they would normally be. Right now Palomides was at its weakest potential while still being in close range. All he had to do was open fire with the hip mounted machine cannons. At this close range she would completely lack the reaction time needed to realise what he was about to do and dodge!
All he had to do was will it to be so, and the machine cannons opened - the machine cannons opened fire. Again? Suddenly Palomides veered upwards, pulling off its attack with its swords and dodging away from his machine cannons. Impossible! It was as if she hadn't known what he was planning until the last possible second that she could have dodged it!
Then while he was staring up at her there was the sound of a splash - and water struck him from beneath. Ah! Could it be? That sudden movement while drawing in her Knightmare cables! She'd pulled one of the fingers into the water while flying upwards, and fired it underwater causing a jetstream to rise up and hit him!
"Round two ends! Lady Ernst wins. The final round will break the tie."
Impossible... This was completely impossible! Stroheim was shaking. Trembling, in fact. He'd tried to keep her out of his head and yet his every attempt to do so had allowed her to bury herself deeper and deeper in.
"You are using some kind of special ability," he accused.
"And you are using a cyborg body," she replied, a little playfully. "Based on your reaction time, you are probably directly connected to your controls as well. A direct interface perhaps?"
"What kind of ability is it?" Stroheim asked.
"Easy now. You'll find that out if you win this last round. I'll spill my guts. That is your prize for winning, right?"
At least she had confirmed that she was using a special ability. In which case the question became what kind of special ability it might be. Stroheim replayed the last round in his head. The clues were there. A mind like his working with computer precision mixed with human imagination in perfect balance should be able to come to the correct answer.
Could it be something like Sir Bismarck's ability to see the future...? They had already been warned about that and developed counters - though it seemed unlikely that two members of the Rounds would develop the same kind of power independently of each other. It also did not explain what he had felt right before she had predicted his next moves. It couldn't be a coincidence that he had felt the same sense of disconnection, of the universe hiccuping both times.
Mind reading? This was also possible. If her form of telepathy left behind that strange feeling, it would explain a great deal. Except that she had not only used it to read his thoughts. She had also made him think that he had dodged an energy blast by a much higher margin than he truly had. Which made him think of a conversation he had overheard between Enrico Pucci and 'Gyro' Zeppeli.
"What is the weakest Stand you have encountered?"
The priest had asked that out of nowhere, surprising the other two. Stroheim shrugged this off. "I have not encountered enough Stands to comment," he said. "Though Gyro, I believe that you may have...? Would you care to share your view?"
"The weakest Stand power?" Gyro repeated. "I suppose it comes down to circumstance. I fought one Stand user who was only dangerous in the rain. On a bright and clear day he would be no danger at all, but on a stormy night he would be very difficult to take on."
"In that case please answer in more general terms," Pucci asked. "The weakest Stand that I have encountered was one that automatically multiplied a person's aggressiveness but had no other effect on anyone. I was curious to hear if you had encountered something with even less use than this."
"Ah? Oh no, everything I've encountered was much more dangerous than that," Gyro waved his hands around. "Let me see, let me see... The most limited Stand that I've probably encountered might be..."
A grave look fell across his face. It was as though he hadn't been taking the conversation seriously until then. Stroheim could feel it. For once Gyro was being completely and totally serious.
"Mandom," Gyro eventually said. "Though that fight was very difficult, that was only down to the skill of the Stand user and how he made use of the power. It could rewind time by exactly six seconds."
"Ah, that sounds quite strong to me," Stroheim scoffed. "Are you sure that is a weak ability? As I recall hearing from our spies, Area Eleven had to deal with something called Hey Jude that could do something similar."
"The trouble is that those affected will remember those same six seconds as well. That is all it can do," Gyro shrugged and tipped his hat over his eyes. "Like I said. It was only dangerous because its user was already a talented fighter. In the hands of anyone else it wouldn't do much good at all. That's why it is a difficult question, Enrico Pucci. The real question you should have asked was 'what is the weakest Stand and Stand user combination that you've encountered?' Because a Strong stand used by an idiot is often much less dangerous than a weak Stand used by an already strong fighter."
Was it the same thing happening here...? A temporal reset? That feeling of disorientation, then. It really could be a side effect of her using that power. He might be remembering 'echoes of events that hadn't happened yet'! How fiendish of her!
So why had she not rewound the first round? For that matter why ask for a two out of three rounds duel in the first place? Because... there must be some limitation to her power. Some method to it that he wasn't seeing yet. Playing a longer game. Getting into his head to psyche him out. Yes, that was it!
"Your mind games end here," Stroheim warned. "Through determination and German superiority, I will win this next round!"
"Is tha - Is that so," Dorothea replied. Ah! That feeling again! "Ah, that's how you intend to start this next round? How unconventional..."
"Begin the third round!"
As if that sort of psychological ploy would work on him. He already had a counter in mind, and he'd start by immediately turning around to open fire with everything that he had! Except it was a funny thing. As he turned Stroheim had a moment to realise that Palomides had not even begun to move to turn around.
On the other hand (so to speak) its outer hands had spun around so they were aiming backwards. They were also spread out and already opening fire. While he was able to open fire on Palomides, the fingers were then fired out to create an impenetrable wall of destructive power that incinerated the bullets long before they had the chance to land. Which meant all that Stroheim could do was dance among the light, still firing while trying to avoid being hit.
Yet to no avail. Dorothea Ernst was able to use this chance to turn her Knightmare around with those swords being held out by the Knightmare's inner hands. Skill or no skill, temporal reset or no temporal reset even Stroheim had to acknowledge her skill as a pilot.
"Very well then Dorothea Ernst! You think that you are the only one who can attack from strange angles?" Stroheim yelled. "In which case... take this!"
The Panzer-Wespe fired out its secret weapon. The very same secret weapon it had used to win the first round. A very similar kind of weapon to Palomides specialty, albeit far less destructive. Both of the Panzer-Wespe's hands fired out like slash harkens, each hand holding onto a rifle. One going high, the other going low. With his cyborg precision he could freely aim as he pleased while calculating her - while calculating her movement patterns...
"Again?!"
Palomides suddenly stopped cold and whipped around its finger harkens causing the cables to collide with both hands, knocking the rifles out of their grips and into the water below. Though to his surprise Dorothea did not follow through on this, instead pulling in all ten of the finger harkens.
"You've been backing away this entire time," Dorothea warned. "Do you know why I stopped firing at you directly with my cannons? It's because you dodged in a certain direction. Are you sure you want to continue retreating like this?"
The meaning of her words wasn't immediate - but Stroheim soon noticed what she meant. Without meaning to he had flown backwards in the direction of Barcelona. A few more feet and he would no longer be over the Mediterranean sea - he would be in the city itself. As per the agreement of their duel he would be 'involving the city' if he continued fighting here. Hence, he would be disqualified immediately.
On the other hand if he moved away from the city then he would have to get into close combat with Palomides. He couldn't even blame her for cornering him like this: It was his own decisions that had led here.
"So be it then," Stroheim decided. "We shall settle this in close quarters."
The two Knightmares rushed towards one another on a mutual understanding of the situation. While his enemy's Knightmare specialised in close combat Stroheim held no fear of defeat. If anything his victory was inevitable at this point! His superior cyborg body would be the means of his absolute victory!
The two of them started with their regular slash harkens before they entered close quarters, the projectiles knocking each other aside. Before long they were upon each other. Palomides thrust out its swords, which Stroheim deftly dodged while kicking them aside. He attempted to follow through with a body blow but was met by one of those interminable giant hands. The Panzer-Wespe crossed its arms in a blocking motion, and then the other one swatted him back and then followed up by trying to strike him with its finger harkens.
So Stroheim let it fly by and then grabbed onto the cable, tugging upon it to give him the extra momentum he would need to - tugging upon it to give him the extra momentum he would need to win!
"I won't let you get away with that," Dorothea warned. Palomides tugged its arm in, the same one that Stroheim had trapped. "Did you really think I would fall for such a simple trick?"
"No, fraulein! Not in the least!" Stroheim answered. "That is why this time... I have come up with two glorious plans at once!"
As soon as he had felt the disconnect Stroheim had altered his movements. He had been intending to open fire with the chest mounted cannons at close range to catch Palomides unaware - but had also come up with a different approach even if she used her ability to see what he might do next. That's why he did the one thing that a Knightmare pilot should never do in the midst of flight.
He opened his cockpit and leapt from his Knightmare.
"Wh-what the hell are you -?"
"You didn't predict my next line that time, fraulein!" Stroheim cackled, his arms behind his head. "Hahahaha! Technically, I am my own Knightmare's most dangerous weapon!"
"How is your Knightmare still moving? That's not - Your hands! Where are your haaaands?!"
Right where they should be. Attached to the controls and pushing the Panzer-Wespe forward, completing the illusion that he was still piloting his Knightmare. That brief moment of confusion was all that he needed. Stroheim landed atop the Palomides' cockpit and rapped on the metal with his elbow.
"Third round... over!" the judge said. He delayed a moment. Doubtless dumbfounded by Stroheim's strategy. "This round is...a tie."
A tie...? A tie?! "What nonsense are you speaking?" Stroheim yelled. He lifted his hand to shake his fist- then realised it was not attached. This rather diminished the effectiveness so he stopped. "I clearly landed first!"
Palomides then reached out and grabbed hold of the Panzer-Wespe to keep it from falling into the ocean. "No, it probably was a tie," Dorothea tutted. "If only I had fired a little faster, maybe I could have won that round..."
The cockpit hissed open, revealing a disgruntled Knight of the Round. Using its inner hands the Knightmare supported Stroheim when he seemed about to slip and pulled him up. "Look at this," she instructed, tapping at the monitor. "The closing moments of our duel."
The meaning behind this became apparent right away. There on the screen were the two Knightmares at a distance from each other. Stroheim leaping through the air while behind him the Panzer-Wespe moved as if in his shadow. All seemed to be going as he remembered - until suddenly a jet of water flew out of the ocean and plainly struck the Panzer-Wespe from behind. Following the source Stroheim saw where it had come from and boggled in disbelief.
"The finger I trapped. It fell in the water!" She had repeated the same trick from the first round without him noticing!
"And the moment you landed was a dead heat with the moment the water hit," Dorothea said. "A complete tie. No winner, no loser."
In a technical sense Stroheim could easily declare his victory right now. Her human body was no match for a cyborg... But his pride would not allow him to do such a thing. They had a contest. He had not won the contest. Although it rankled him to let an enemy of this calibre go to cause them more trouble in the future nor could he condone betraying the clear trust of an honourable adversary.
Her level of integrity was displayed in full as she returned the gesture, placing he and his Knightmare on dry land.
"So what now?" Stroheim asked. "Would you like to go to a fourth round to break the tie?"
"No, I am satisfied with this duel," Dorothea said. "We shall depart this city peacefully in exchange for telling you why we came here. That should give us both something of great value, do you agree?"
"I think you come ahead a little bit more in leaving with your life and freedom," Stroheim said. "Then again, if it protects the innocent people of Barcelona..."
"We wanted to discover how you were quickly transferring units to impossible places," Dorothea said. "According to our briefing there was supposed to be a research centre in this city. It is my assessment that this report is almost certainly incorrect. Now, I shall take my leave. I look forward to our next encounter on the battlefield, Rudol von Stroheim."
Hah! He should have asked her what her ability was. No matter. Honour was satisfied. The civilians of Barcelona were - by and large - safe from the Britannian attackers. That was the reason they had come here, after all. To protect the people.
So in that sense, at the very least, this tie could still be counted as a victory. Which was only right and proper for the greatest military in the world.
====Luciano====
The Knight of Ten was called many things. The Vampire of Britannia. The Genius of Slaughter. An Artist of Murder. Well, that last one was more how he viewed himself. Ah, but nobody else seemed to appreciate it: The moment where you hold someone's life in the palm of your hand. Their accumulated experience, the friendships they have made. Their hopes, their dreams, their despair and their nightmares. All yours to do with as you would... and then the moment when the light fades from their eyes. A candle gone out.
It was sublime. And he alone had the sight to appreciate it. The art of 'destruction'! Even Chancellor Brando did not fully understand - though he encouraged such pursuits. Especially if channelled towards their enemies.
Now, as an artist the Chancellor had offered some truly stellar advice. Learn of your enemies. Bask in your superiority over them. Then at the moment of the kill you will appreciate it all the more. Like a wine taster, who would look carefully at the wine against a white background long before he drank of it. To draw out a deeper appreciation of the experience, a true artist must prepare themselves in advance.
Right now he was looking down at a building that managed to appeal to his Britannian aesthetic quite well. It was a large building surrounded by tall spires, some half completed and surrounded by cranes.
"Ah, this must the Sagrada Familia," Bradley observed, noting the crosses surrounding the building. "The final, still unfinished work of Spanish architect Antoni Gaudi who was also responsible for much of Barcelona's architecture. When he died, only a quarter of the building had been completed with most of the work continuing after his death."
Bradley nodded to himself and took a deep breath. Then, Percival's claw began to spin violently until it seemed like a drill.
"They say that an artist's work lends them a form of immortality," Luciano Bradley sneered. "In which case, this building offends me!"
"Much as many others find you offensive, Knight of Ten."
That voice came through almost at the same time he noticed the fast approaching enemy. A golden Knightmare, one of those Alexander models. Except fitted with flight enablers and a few other attachments. Well, well. Why settle for destroying a building when he could end a life? Bradley cackled and pulled Percival back, all the better to draw his enemy's attention.
"That pompous voice," he said. "Ah, Enrico Pucci was it? To think that one of the leaders of Europe would come and visit me personally, and a priest no less! Ah... But I thought yours was the religion of peace?"
The golden Alexander stopped a fair distance away. "It is. What I wage is not war, but rather the 'pursuit of heaven' which all people must aspire to. Tell me Luciano Bradley: What is your view of heaven?"
Oh, how rich. This priest was trying to minister to him from inside of a cockpit! "Heaven?" he scoffed. "An outdated reward model designed to keep people nice and obedient to their religion of choice. Whyever do you ask?"
"Humour me," Pucci said. "If it did exist, hypothetically. What form would your idea of 'heaven' take?"
"My heaven? That's easy," Luciano Bradley chuckled. "My heaven is your hell."
As if on cue several slash harkens shot out from ground level up towards the enemy Knightmare, which didn't move an inch. This fool thought to distract Bradley by drawing him into a religious debate? In the middle of a battle?
"You men of the cloth are all the same!" Bradley laughed as the harkens flew through the Alexander. "You're so determined to save something as pointless as a 'soul' that you miss the element of most value to a person: Their life!"
His laughter quickly died down as he noticed something strange. The harkens had indeed passed clean through the Alexander. It hadn't bothered to dodge or block or do much of anything at all but hover there in mid-air. And yet! And yet!
"No debris?" he asked, studying the Golden Knightmare closely. "No damage around where they hit? No cracks? No twists in the metal? No exposed electronics? And come to think, there wasn't the satisfying crunch of a Knightmare's defenses crumpling away!"
The Sutherlands that had fired off those harkens pulled them out and rose up into the air, rifles aimed squarely at the enemy. They opened fire. The Alexander stayed still, its golden metal standing out quite brightly among the night's sky. Watching carefully, going so far as to zoom in on the gaudy frame, the Vampire of Britannia beheld the bullets streaked through the Knightmare as if it wasn't actually there.
"Hell. Of course you would bring up Hell," Pucci continued. "Did you know that many translations of the Bible do not even have the word Hell within them? The King James Bible mentions it the most with no more than fifty four occurrences."
Enrico Pucci sounded completely oblivious to his situation. He was surrounded by Sutherlands. Piloted by some of the finest pilots in the Empire. And he was behaving as if they didn't matter. As if they were no kind of threat to him at all! Oh, now this... this was truly delicious art.
"Dodge this, you lowly European!"
One of the Sutherlands charged clean through the Alexander - then a moment later stopped cold in mid-air and gently descended to the ground. It landed perfectly and then stayed completely and totally still.
"Now, compare that to Heaven, which appears over six hundred times. Much the same can be said for 'Evil'. 'Sin' appears over four hundred times. 'Soul' nearly five hundred. And yet 'Hell' appears at most under a hundred."
"Hey, Marcus! What the hell are you doing?" another Sutherland pilot yelled. The Golden Knightmare deigned to move now, drifting towards that Sutherland. It opened fire with everything it had. All passed through without any seeming problem - and then for no apparent reason that pilot copied the same action as the last.
"Doesn't that seem strange?" Pucci asked. "If Hell was truly so important to Christianity, then surely it would be mentioned more often. So where did that idea come from if not the Bible? Where else, but The Inferno by Dante Alighieri. His ideas are - in the traditional sense - entirely non-canon."
"Sir Bradley, your orders!" a pilot asked. Tsk! If it had been his Valkyrie squad instead of some no-name pilots they wouldn't have needed to ask him that sort of stupid question. His opinion of them was going down as quickly as they were.
"Attack him, you fools!" Bradley yelled. "Hold nothing back, or your families will have to live with the shame of knowing you fled in terror from a priest!"
"Understood!"
They charged in, guns blazing and slash harkens firing. It would have been enough to rip any normal Knightmare to shreds. But no, it took the attacks head on. Fearlessly. And then as Bradley watched a humanoid shape quickly moved in, flying into both remaining Sutherlands and sending them flying to the ground, landing safely on the pavement next to the others.
Like lambs to the slaughter. Ahahaha! But their sacrifice was not in vain, oh no. Now he knew. Now he understood. Now he had a pretty firm idea of what kind of enemy Stand he was up against!
"To put it in simpler terms: I do not believe in Hell any more than you believe in Heaven."
Luciano Bradley cocked his head. Based on these readings it looked like he'd taken down those pilots without killing them. So he shrugged, opened up Percival's hadron blasters, and finished the job that the pansy priest didn't have the stones to do. Hah! That must have shocked him! Seeing the Vampire of Britannia earn his reputation by cruelly executing the failures he had worked so hard to capture -
"An astute tactical decision," Pucci calmly said. So calm, so collected that it was starting to piss Bradley off. "Now we cannot salvage their Knightmares, nor interrogate those pilots. In which case I shall settle for capturing you instead."
"Oh? I'd like to see you try it," Bradley yelled. "I saw that Stand of yours attacking those pilots. While I don't understand how it works yet, all I have to do is keep my distance and you won't be able to win."
"For a rational man, you have tremendous faith in things that have no substance," Pucci said. Bradley's response was all four of Percival's slash harkens - which sailed through the enemy much the same way as the others had. "Your judgement. Your intelligence. Your talent as a pilot."
Before Bradley could make his next move he saw it moving in, remarkably quickly. The Stand! The black crowned mask on its face reminded Bradley of an executioner's mask, though most of the body was white. At a distance Bradley could tell there was some kind of writing on it, in bands around its torso and was moving quickly... and also, leaving the normal boundary that he had been told a Stand was normally capable of.
"The hell is this?!" Bradley yelled, pulling Percival back - but too late. At the speed it was moving it would enter his cockpit in about three seconds. While it wasn't as fast as he'd heard some Stands could be, it was fast enough to take full advantage of his surprise. "I can't believe this! I can't believe... That you would be so foolish!"
He activated his Geass while laughing like a lunatic. He could see its feet sticking out the front of Percival's cockpit, which meant its face must be mere inches from his own. According to their information - courtesy of Villetta Nu - they had affirmed that this power was capable of affecting Stands through their user! Which meant that if he made eye contact with his enemy, right here and now, then he would be instilling a huge amount of fear within them!
"I have never been the sort that likes to be left out of a joke," Pucci calmly said. Not a trace of fear. "Would you care to share it with me? Or is this another 'thing without substance' that the rational atheist believes in?"
"What I find funny?" Bradley replied. "That's easy. It's your belief in an immortal soul!"
In a fight, there are times where you must be on the defensive. There are times when you must be on the offensive. Put it up to Luciano Bradley, and he'd rather pick being offensive every single time! That is why he rushed forward to meet his enemy with Percival's full fury, swiping through the Golden Alexander with the claw on its left hand.
"There's nothing after life! That's what makes it so special!" Bradley crowed. "No, special is the wrong word: Priceless! You religious people are such fools, you place such a devotion on something that doesn't exist that you waste the one thing most precious to you!"
The Stand flew in again, and Bradley opened fire on it with Gleipnir rounds - which passed harmlessly through the Stand. Then he met it with his Geass the instant it penetrated the cockpit. That time, surely?
"What is most precious to me... is the very existence you seek to deny," Pucci calmly, oh so calmly, oh so infuriatingly frustratingly calmly replied. "It is my belief that heaven exists, and that we may reach it while still yet living. No need for an immortal soul. If you stand in the way of that 'pursuit of heaven', then in the name of God I shall smite you."
"Pursuit of heaven?" Bradley asked. "Very well then. Why don't I help some people along their way?"
Percival's shield opened up, revealing an array of missile launching tubes. If this guy was here to defend the city, there's no choice about it. He'd have to do something foolish like stepping in to defend the people. A man of the cloth would have no choice but to be that self sacrificing.
The missiles flew out of their cylinders, and Bradley watched with bated breath to see what he might do. Would he dive in front of the missiles in a desperate attempt to save the population? Would he use his Stand? Or might he decide to take an attack of opportunity, to stop Bradley before he launched any further attacks? The Vampire of Britannia was prepared for all eventualities!
Buildings around him were struck, the explosions blossomed like flowers in spring. And like flowers, the flames were feeding off the corpses that lay beneath. Ah, such devastation! Ah, but it must rankle the priest so that he could not move in time to save them!
"You seem to be awaiting my indignation and disdain," Pucci said. To Bradley's amazement - no, to his disappointment the enemy Alexander hadn't moved an inch. Not even to attack! "But you will not receive it so easily. If it is their time to die, then it is their time. Compared to gravity their lives - and ours - are as nothing."
"Then I have a question for you," Bradley asked, finally fed up with this clown's attitude. "A different question from the one I normally ask people before I kill them." Percival lifted its claw, formed a forcefield around it and then began to spin around violently until it once again resembled a shining drill. He lunged forward towards the enemy Knightmare once again - then at the last moment fired a slash harken from the shoulder ninety degrees to the right.
"Which one of us was believing in things without substance, again?"
The Alexander appeared right where Bradley had expected it to be, replete with the satisfying crunch of fast metal hitting slower metal.
"A piece of advice," Bradley jeered. He quickly wheeled around Percival and took great delight in firing more slash harkens into the enemy, forcing him to use his Stand defensively. "A proper military shares out information. For example, information on a mysterious enemy Stand that can cause illusory effects which just so happens to be involved in the disappearance of a Princess."
"I see," Pucci said. "So 'gravity' has drawn that information to you - and then guided your slash harken to my position."
"Gravity?" Luciano Bradley mocked. "What does gravity have to do with it?" Suddenly, three different golden Alexanders appeared around Percival. He scoffed and immediately back-kicked the one trying to sneak up on him from behind.
"We are all helpless before matters that we cannot control," Pucci said. Ahahaha, how amusing! Now he was trying to make it seem as though his Knightmare was invisible! "The will of God, the gravity of the Earth, the Sun and the Moon. The subtle strings of fate pull us onwards despite what we may will ourselves."
"Fate? God's will? What nonsense is this?" Bradley asked, delighting in pretending that he was confused about his opponent's location. "Excuses, excuses. Continue thinking like that and your life is as good as mine."
"Wind movement," Pucci interrupted. "3...5...7...11... Yes, that's what it is. You are using your greater experience as a Knightmare pilot to notice the discrepancy in wind movement when I move my Knightmare."
"Very good," Bradley sarcastically clapped, though that was only partly the truth. He was relying on all of his instruments to feed him information about the outside world: From the incongruities, it was easy to guess where an enemy Knightmare could be. That's the power of experience! "I've had an excellent teacher. He taught me how to think of nothing but dominating and ruling on the battlefield so that I may kill with impunity!"
"... Would that teacher be Chancellor Dio Brando?" Pucci asked. Ah? Was that a hint of some emotion creeping into his voice. "You should have paid more attention to his lessons."
"Continuing with the school metaphor? Very well." Bradley scoffed. Now things were starting to get a bit more interesting. "Care to tell the class what else you've guessed at?"
Percival whirled around and fired off a slash harken for good measure, but alas something struck it out of the sky. Whatever it was, the enemy was keeping it invisible for now. Not that it especially mattered.
"... You attempted to lure me into attacking you in your cockpit for some reason," Pucci said. His Knightmare drifted around Percival in a slow circle. It fired a few shots, but Percival's shield was more than able to block something like that. "A trap...? An ambush of some sort? No... A Geass that requires eye contact to work. Yes, that would explain your reaction before. You were baiting me to send in my Stand because you knew that Geass works on a Stand user through their Stand! 13... 17...19...23..."
Aha, now we were getting somewhere! The Alexander dashed forward to meet Percival head on in a straight up clash. Not that it was going to matter, not in the slightest. No, no! Because it was clear that Luciano Bradley was the more talented Knightmare pilot of the pair. So long as he kept this from becoming a Stand battle he had nothing to fear!
Percival braced its shield. The Alexander became visible. At the instant it did Bradley knew what Pucci was planning: He was counting on the illusion to let him in close enough that he could strike a killshot, as the instruments could only tell him the location of the enemy Knightmare but not what it was doing.
For example feint a left strike while coming in from the right; Bradley would create an open spot in his defenses and then the enemy would tear through it. Changes in wind movement wouldn't be enough to tell which limb was being moved, not at this close distance. If that was what the priest believed then he'd soon learn the skill of a Knight of the Round surpassed any kind of blind faith!
"What is most precious to you, Luciano Bradley?" Pucci asked all of a sudden. "Is it truly your life? Or is your pride more important?"
"Stupid! You think that's going to distract me from - " Ah... Ah! Wait! He had it wrong! The priest's plan was more involved than this. How devious! How cunning! He'd sent his Stand around to attack from the rear, from behind Bradley! If he turned around to use his Geass against it, then he'd open himself up to attack from the Knightmare up front. On the other hand if he focused on the Knightmare then the Stand would get him from behind and do... whatever it did to those Sutherland pilots!
"Either choice you make, your fate is to lose," Pucci told him. "This is the work of 'gravity'. You will be rejected from entering heaven - and that shall be hell enough."
"Hah!" Bradley scoffed. "Life is worth something because of all the choices people make along the way. What meaning is there behind sin if people can't choose but to sin? When I snuff out a life, I snuff out all the choices they have made along the way! That's why it's so precious!"
Without a shred of hesitation Percival thrust out its shield, striking the Alexander and pushing it back just a fraction. At the same moment the enemy Stand struck its hand into Percival's flight enabler - and then the hand completely vanished. Dissolved. Disintegrated. Gone.
"Wh-Whitesnake?!" Pucci gasped. Aha. Finally got him!
"Did I forget to mention?" Bradley asked. Percival's MVS claw was already spinning. He thrust it out, striking the Alexander right in the middle of its mass. "Ever since you showed up, I've been charging the outside of my frame with Gleipnir energy. That whole routine with the Geass was my ploy to lure you in, and you fell in... like gravity."
"Don't you dare invoke God's will in that way!"
"Oh, that seems to be something else you misunderstood," Bradley snorted. "Before, I wasn't belittling you because of your faith. I was commending you. The cruellest thing I can think of... is to dole out false hope to anyone that listens. To make the faithful think there's a chance of something better in the great beyond. There isn't. There's nothing. As you're about to learn firsthand when I take what's most precious to you."
If he had any last words then the Knight of Ten already wasn't listening. The Alexander fell to pieces around him and dropped to the ground. Hah! Well, that was fun. Although... Now he had no choice but to retreat. Though it had been fun playing around here in Barcelona, charging up his Knightmare with Gleipnir energy had taken its toll on his energy filler.
====Pucci====
As Percival flew off something stirred on the ground below. Something that had been immobile up until now. He had considered giving chase, but thought against it.
"29...31... 37...41..." Enrico Pucci said to himself, gradually calming himself down. "That man has the scent of Dio around him. There is no question. Fate guided me well on this day."
How had he survived? That was easy enough. When the Sutherland had flown through the image of his Alexander, Pucci had used Whitesnake to a devious effect: He removed the pilot's memories and inserted one that compelled him to pilot according to Pucci's instructions. The Knightmare that had truly landed on the ground was in fact the Alexander and not the Sutherland. He had moved it into Insect Mode, intending to watch the fight play out so he could determine the best way to take down the Knight of Ten while using his own Knightmare's communication ability
However... That changed once he saw what was on the memory discs. His immediate goal and motivation completely altered in that moment. That too was fate at work, of course: Had he not checked this carefully then he would have moved to fight Luciano Bradley over the skies of Barcelona. A fight he could plainly see that he would have probably lost. Instead he could now fulfill another 'destined role' and deliver this information to his new allies. All he had to do was deceive the Knight of Ten into thinking he had won the fight. That he had taken 'that which was most precious to Pucci'.
Little realising that such a thing had been taken from him long ago already... But he'd get it back before long. Gravity would accept nothing less.
====Gyro====
They say that beauty is only skin deep. Things that we find pleasing to the eye often conceal a hidden, darker truth. A corruption. Rot. Decay or poison. When Gyro Zeppeli looked around he could see beauty in many things. In flowers, in wildlife, in people and in the things that they made. People were good at making things that were pleasing to the eye. They were easier to sell.
Just ask a farmer about that twisted up carrots that has two sets of roots: It's perfectly edible yet nobody will buy it. Nobody will even take a bite because it looks 'ugly'. To the mind of Gyro Zeppeli these things called 'Knightmares' that had been developed by this world were both ugly on the outside and ugly on the inside. Soulless machines straight off the factory line. A perfect emblem for a corrupted, rotten world that shouldn't exist in the first place.
Ah, but Barcelona might well be the opposite; He knew that the people were decent and the culture was welcoming, friendly. The architecture was pristine, and he could easily see examples of the golden ratio wherever he looked. A telltale marker of beauty in nature, and also in man made works. These things were everywhere in Barcelona. Beautiful inside and outside everywhere that you looked.
That is to say, except for one place. A building surrounded by no less than four ugly Knightmares raining a hellstorm of bullets upon a landmark of the city, one of its many protected sites. The Hospital de Sant Pau!
"They're attacking a hospital?" one of his cohorts gasped in shock. "Those Britannians truly have no sense of what they invite upon themselves. A hospital is sacrosanct in any battle!"
Indeed. He also felt the anger rising up inside of him at what he was seeing. As a trained physician Caesar 'Gyro' Zeppeli understood full well what a horrible thing was unfolding before his eyes. It was a typical example of the 'ugliness' that he kept on seeing time and again whenever he looked around. Yet he could not shake the feeling that they were doing this deliberately to draw them into making some kind of -
"I see the Golden Ratio!" the pilot suddenly yelled. Gyro felt it through the Brain Raid system connecting them all. He tried to focus a sense of calm into the young man - but to no avail. His Alexander pulled out a perfectly spherical steel ball no larger than a human's fist and hurled it in a perfect arc directly into the enemy Knightmare's back. "Take this, you coward!"
"No!" Gyro warned. Too late. The pink Britannian Knightmare didn't even turn around. It jabbed out its spear behind itself and struck the spinning ball dead on, stopping it cold in its tracks. "As I was telling the others before, sometimes the shortest route to victory is not the fastest."
"You call me cowardly when you tried to attack me from behind?" a girl's voice asked. Not a woman, Gyro noted. This sounded like a young girl trying too hard to sound mature rather than an adult woman. "That kind of hypocrisy really bugs me."
"Then again, if he'd tried to call our attention we might have tried holding the building hostage," another enemy pilot, another girl said. This one with a more chipper, upbeat attitude.
"We could still do that," yet another girl viciously suggested.
"Now where would the fun in that be?" the last pilot said, a haughty sounding bratty girl. "The best way to break someone's spirit is to face them head on."
All four of the pink Knightmares flew into a staggered formation, lances drawn out in each hand. Team combat was not Gyro's speciality - but through the Brain Raid system that connected him to the other pilots he got a general sense that they were adopting a very strong formation just now. The two of them at the front had a wide attacking arc while the two at the back were able to provide any kind of reinforcements that might be required at a moment's notice.
In other words: His first Knightmare fight might not be as simple or straightforward as he might have believed it would be.
"You're all women?" Gyro asked.
"Something wrong with that?" the haughty brat asked.
"I hear that Europe's pretty backwards on matters of sexuality and gender." That was Little Miss Trying-Too-Hard.
Next up was the chipper one. "Some of our women are stronger than men, you know."
And finally the girl with a vicious bite to her tone. "More hypocrisy from the supposedly 'free continent'."
"That's not what I meant you stupid Britannians," Gyro calmly said. "I meant, it is bad luck for me to ride with a woman. That's going to make it annoying if I take one of you prisoner later on."
All four of them started laughing at once, and then the attack began. The four of them versus him and his two supporting Spin equipped Alexanders. The both of them connected to him via the Brain Raid system, which should theoretically allow him a tremendous advantage in this battle. Though if he was being honest he would much rather be riding a horse.
Gyro immediately moved into a copy of their formation, falling back while the other two Alexanders moved forward. Their Knightmares were supposedly much better than his in close range, so this was a sensible tactical move. Besides, this was his first proper 'Knightmare battle'. Gyro Zeppeli had often heard people call him a cocky fool who leaped before he looked. And on reflection, they were right. Even he could plainly see that striding into his first Knightmare fight half-cocked was a suicidal move.
The pink Knightmares flew forward with their spears spinning around in an imperfect arc. Gyro tsked, though pondered if they were doing that deliberately to distract his eye. Little will irritate a gourmet chef more than a fork set out in the wrong order on the table.
"I like that cocky attitude," said Bratty, in the lead Knightmare to the left.
"Me too," added Vicious, in the lead Knightmare to the right. "Do you know why?"
Suddenly the pair of them shot up into the sky, spinning their spears above their heads. In unison they both said the same thing. "Because now we can tear it to bloody pieces!"
"Eyes forward!" Gyro yelled. Due to the Brain Raid the two pilots were already doing what he wanted. "Hmph! Not bad teamwork. Two of you rush forward, while the other two fire slash harkens into the blind spot created by the other two."
"Oh darn, he saw through it!" Chipper gasped. She sounded sarcastic to Gyro's ears.
"They've completely caught our slash harkens!"
That's right. The concealed Uruna edge knives in the Alexander's arms had been pushed out, piercing into the dead centre of those fired out slash harkens pinning them neatly in place. Though Gyro had little time to appreciate that victory because the two up in the air descended on him like birds of prey.
"Nyohohoho! You didn't even miss a beat!" Gyro admitted. "But neither did I."
They'd tried to hit his Knightmare on either side with their lances. It was easy for him to block something like that using the spinning balls embedded in his Knightmare's hands. As he expected their lances began to spin in a counter direction to his balls in a perfect rotation. They were using the principles of Spin to counter Spin!
"Oh, how adorable! He's a Spin master!" Bratty cackled.
"They're the most fun kind," Vicious added. "When it comes to shattering their spirits, I mean."
"Don't underestimate the power of rotation," Gyro warned. On cue, the two Alexanders threw a pair of balls backwards directly into the backs of these two enemy Knightmares. While their lances were preoccupied with him, they wouldn't be able to counter him at all!
At least, that was what he was expecting.
Instead the girls laughed at some concealed joke. Their Knightmares bent their elbows in a direction no human could manage. Then they fired out some kind of an energy barrier. Short range. They caught the spinning steel balls and obliterated them instantly.
"Aw, sorry. Did the Needle Blazer destroy the man's balls?" Bratty mocked. "Befitting a sexist pig."
"Ugh, really. That kind of joke got tiresome the second time you said it," the vicious one sighed. You could almost hear the eye roll. "But I hope you get the point by now. We're experts at dealing with Spin techniques."
"Then I'll do something I don't normally like doing and repeat myself," Gyro said. "Don't underestimate the power of rotation."
The meaning behind this became quickly clear to them when they finally noticed that the Alexanders were rotating their arms. The same arms which had penetrated the harken heads with their hidden edge knives. The cables on those harkens had grown taut from being turned repeatedly and what do you think would happen if the thing that was keeping them taut would be taken out?
"There's the difference between a Knightmare and a person," Gyro said. "If you grab a person's wrist, their flesh will bend to keep it from getting hurt. A Knightmare feels no pain, and so..."
Twang! The instant the knives were pulled away the harkens began to flail about wildly. The forces of rotation sent them flying in the air as the tension unwound exactly to Gyro's calculations. The Alexanders went into their 'insect mode' and crawled away, while Gyro made his own Knightmare step back so he could see for himself. He didn't believe for a second that such a thing would defeat these experienced pilots, so it made him wonder:
What would they do to counter it?
The answer surprised him, which he found a little amusing. The two rear Knightmares leaned the sideways protrusions from their shoulders into each other's cables. As soon as they had done this something made the tension release in a different way than Gyro had calculated. They were unwinding much too quickly. The harken's trajectory was completely different. Which meant those shoulder attachments must have wheels inside of them. Wheels that were being used to regain control over their untamed slash harkens like a horse rider breaking in a wild stallion.
Until now Gyro wasn't entirely sure how seriously he should take their claims of having anti-spin experience. Now he was certain of it. These girls were a greater threat than they had any right to be.
"That was a close one, tricky tricky!" Chipper cheered.
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one that almost bashed the other," Tries-Too-Hard complained.
"Now, now! Let's save our vitriol for those filthy Europeans." Vicious let out something like a laugh.
"Your Spin tricks won't work against us," Bratty jeered. "Try all you li~ike, we'll counter them all!"
Was that so? In that case it was time for Gyro to reveal what was so special about this Knightmare he had been given. They hadn't given it a designation yet. He had suggested 'Valkyrie' after his favourite horse, but for some reason nobody else seemed to like that idea. After that he'd kind of put the matter off, because something about these machines made him uncomfortable. Probably the idea that they were supposed to be a replacement for living horses.
====Marika====
Who were Valkyrie Squadron, when you get right down to it? The personal support unit of Luciano Bradley, right? An elite squad of Britannia's finest? How about a team of 'anti-Spin specialists'?
It didn't much matter what you thought they were. What mattered was what they thought you were. If you were an enemy, they would kill you. If you were an obstacle standing in their way they would smash you into pulp. If you were underestimating them then they would eat you alive.
"Feels good to be back in the saddle again," Marika said. "It was getting boring poking at those civilians buildings. I was starting to wonder if they'd send anyone out to stop us."
"It might still get boring," Liliana scoffed. "I thought this guy might be a bit different from those other Spin experts, but our usual tricks should take him down in no time–"
"Something's happening," Orphelia interrupted. "Quit gossiping and watch!"
Indeed there was. By now they were used to seeing the alternative mode of transportation used by the Alexander models, but it looked like this one had an alternative mode as well. A pair of extra legs swung out from underneath its cockpit, and its original legs moved to the back. In essence turning this Knightmare from a two legged model into a four legged model in the blink of an eye.
"Oh wow," Nora snorted. "And there was me thinking Palomides looked goofy."
Lilianna was taking this a lot more seriously. "Don't underestimate it. Those extra legs will probably give him a burst of speed."
Speed, was it? Marika wasn't so sure about that. Given how this guy had handled his Knightmare so far it was pretty obvious that he was a rank amateur. Kind of insulting really. Sending out a novice in a new Knightmare model to fight Valkyrie Squadron? Maybe this guy accidentally spilled a hot drink in a superior's lap.
"Yo, girls?" the dead man walking suddenly asked. "I've been trying to think of a name for this Knightmare. Do you have any suggestions?"
"P-Pegasus?" Lilianna suggested. "No, that's cliche. How about –"
"Hey, don't give him ideas," Nora interrupted. "It's not going to matter after we wreck it anyway."
"Speaking of which: That might prove difficult as he's running away."
Exactly as Orphelia had said. That four legged centaur shaped Knightmare had turned around and was galloping down the street. That wasn't even a metaphor for how fast he was going, it was actually galloping like a real live horse. Lilianna was probably thrilled. A combination of her two favourite things had appeared right before her very eyes, horses and Knightmares.
Well, in a sense her third favourite thing was also present; The chance to kill an annoying enemy. Funny thing. It was one of Marika's favourite things as well.
"Mind the Alexanders," Marika warned. The two of them had fallen into step alongside their biggers, stupider looking leader in their four legged form. Difference was they were running in reverse. Which was a problem for them because now they could use those extra arms on the side of their cockpits to hold onto those rifles, giving them pretty good cover for their retreat.
"Delta formation! Block with your lances!"
"It's almost funny that he thinks we don't see what he's doing," Lilliana said. "Luring us away from the hospital like this is so blatant."
"If he'd only thought to ask. We could've moved away sooner... to spread out the collateral damage even further!" Nora laughed, sadistic as ever. There was a reason she was Sir Bradley's 'favourite' of the squadron.
Credit where it's due those Alexanders had some pretty good aim while moving in reverse. Too late though. All four of them immediately began to spin around their lances. Using their own Spin talent against them!
Although, now that she thought about it... how had they learned how to do this in the first place. It was weird but for some reason she couldn't remember learning at all...
The torso of that unnamed enemy Knightmare - that she was not going to call Pegasus, damn you Lilliana! You were so getting punched in the arm for this later on - suddenly turned around and threw a steel ball from each hand. One aimed for Octavia, the other for Marika.
And then... she could see it. It was one of those things that Lilliana was always yammering on about when she was talking about her days of raising horses when she was little. About how the explanation for Spin clarified so much for her about the majesty behind a horse galloping at its most natural speed. How that tamed beast can, for a while, become something more than an animal. How the idea of the 'Golden Rotation' and the 'Golden Spiral' made it clear to her why she couldn't tear her eyes away from that special kind of running.
Because it was galloping with the full force of the Golden Rectangle. This enemy pilot had chosen this form for its Knightmare because he wanted to harness that power in his own attacks. When he threw that steel ball just now it must have become the most perfect and faithful representation of the 'golden spiral' that was humanly possible.
"Let's shred those balls," Marika said. Ah. Now she couldn't use her lance for this. Neither could the other girls. Those Alexanders were spraying them down with bullets to keep them from doing that very thing. Then again she suspected that trying to use the lances for this would not end well for them. "Needle Blazer!"
The blinding forcefield fired out of their Vincent's shoulders, and those two balls were simply gone. So much for Super Spin.
"Don't do it, Octavia," Nora warned. "Remember what I told you about making the same joke in the same battle twice?"
"That you'd do to me what we're about to do to him," Octavia replied, and by Saint Darwin's beard you could hear the stuck up pout.
The way Octavia had once explained it to them, it was like a magic act. When all four of them are moving around so quickly in their own distinctive Knightmares it was easy to lose track of them. Mix them up. Get them confused. This let them get away with things they might not otherwise - like one of them breaking off and sneakily firing her slash harkens onto a spot later on in the road. Both cables, resting in parallel and waiting for the enemy to step over them so that she could haul them up and -
"Huh? Who the hell dares?" Gyro Zeppeli yelled. His Knightmare tumbled upside down, all four legs suddenly tied together by Octavia's trap. It looked like he was about to launch another attack: A steel ball dropped from the Knightmare's hand onto the pavement below
"We the hell dare!" Marika answered.
Liliana laughed. "Look at you. All hogtied up and nowhere to go."
That was their cue to take out the Alexanders. A few precision shots into the pavement and all four limbs on both frames would be pinned down by a web of cables. Their signature attack, if you will. It was fun having a signature attack. Marika grinned as an especially wicked thought crossed her mind. Someday in the near future she could tell. Suzaku Kururugi was going to do something to betray Britannia. And when he did... As soon as he did then she would be there alongside the rest of the Valkyrie to put him down like the dog that he was.
Sort of the same way that they were going to put this swine down.
"Blasted machine can't match a real horse..." Gyro complained
"Well now, there's your problem," Marika said. "It is because you're the kind of person who doesn't 'respect' their Knightmare that you're in this position."
"I've seen his type before," Lilliana mocked. "On daddy's farm back in the homeland. The sort of person who would rather ride horseback everywhere rather than take a car. It's just a 'soulless machine' to you, isn't it?"
"A horse has habits, the same as people," Gyro said. "Living things are like that. Machines put out on the assembly line are all made to be the same. There's no artistry in using a machine. So you're saying this is the reason that I lost?"
"Not yet you haven't," Marika said. That was a nice little psychological trick there, but she'd seen through it handily enough. With one hand she kept her cable taut to ensure the Alexanders couldn't escape. With the other, she made a lance spin around and jabbed it into the ball that he had dropped. "Nice try, but we're not falling for that one."
"I bet there was a water pipe or something down there," Octavia said. "Oh! Or maybe it would summon a horse to beat us up?"
"... How the hell would it summon a horse capable of beating us up?!" Nora yelled. But really, they knew her better than that by now. She'd found it as funny as the rest of them. Marika could hear that barely restrained laugh just as well as the rest of them. "H-Honestly Octavia, try to be a little bit more sensi–"
She didn't get to finish that sentence because that was when the ground inexplicably exploded under Marika's feet. Bits of rubble came up out of nowhere and in the midst of her surprise Marika couldn't help but notice something strange.
The bits of rubble were... spinning. He'd done that on purpose!
Marika jumped back, feeling her anger bubbling up inside of her. Raising her cannon arm, she took a shot at that stupid Knightmare's arm before it could throw anything else. "You cheeky jerk!" she yelled, taking the shot. "How did you pull that off?" A shot to the other arm. "I hadn't stopped the rotation quickly enough, huh?! Is that it?!"
"Actually, it was because you stopped the rotation that this is happening to you," Gyro calmly explained. Calmly. No fear at all. That was the part that annoyed her the most! "It's funny. Normally Spin would cause you to not feel it happening, but a Knightmare wouldn't feel it anyway. You'd better act quickly before it's too late..."
"Marika! Your arm! What's happened to your arm?!"
"My... arm?" Marika pondered. Then she looked at her Knightmare's arms. The left one with the cannon in it seemed to be fine. But the one on the right was... twisted. Correction: Twisting. Before her eyes her Knightmare's arm was twisting around and - she suddenly lurched forward, pulled in by some incredible force. "Wh-what? What is this?!"
"The problem was obvious to me right away," Gyro began. "A true master of Spin will already know about the counters to Spin, and plan accordingly."
"Grk! My Knightmare! It's - It's twisting itself out of shape!"
"What did you expect to happen?" Gyro asked. "Using counter-spin on a device set to be triggered by it. Of course this would happen."
"I... I can't get the cockpit open! It's jammed shut!"
"So now it seems your girls have a choice," Gyro said to the others, his tone as ominous and foreboding as an open grave. "You can release us to save your friend, or listen as she's crushed to death inside her own Knightmare."
Marika's eyes snapped back up to the monitor as the sound of crunching metal surrounded her. No... Crushed to death inside her own Knightmare? That wasn't the way she was going to die! On the other hand, giving him what he wanted wasn't going to be happening either! Her pride wouldn't let him turn this into a false dilemma. Not when there was a courageous route still open to her!
"Don't let me go!" Marika yelled.
"But... But Marika –" Lilliana began, but Marika didn't have time for her best friend's concern. Not right now!
"I'll be fine!" Marika said. "Kill him first, then cut me out. You still have time to do both!"
"... could it be?" Gyro asked. "Deeper beauty in an ugly world...?"
"On it!" Nora yelled, bringing up her arm cannon and making ready to fire. Liliana followed suit a half second behind her - but then to Marika's horror each of them were struck in the back by steel balls that appeared out of nowhere. They flew clean through the Knightmare's. It was like watching someone take an MVS sword to a stick of butter. Next to no resistance at all.
It was all coming apart before her very eyes. The steel balls continued on their path, landing on the harken cables and releasing enough tension for the Alexanders to move freely. How? How had this happened? They'd fought so many supposed masters of Spin in the past, but this one was on a whole other level!
"N-Nora! Liliana!" Octavia yelled.
"I'm... still in this!" Nora replied. Not over her speaker. Through the hole in her cockpit.
"Me too," Liliana said. "Come on, we have to rescue Marika!"
"Nyohoho," Gyro laughed, and the sound of it now sent a chill down Marika's spine. "Thank you, girls! For a long time now I've been feeling homesick. Thanks to all of you I'm not feeling all that bad about this ugly world that shouldn't exist. Though I still can't wait to leave."
His Knightmare held out its arms as wide as they could go, hands open enough to reveal the pair of balls spinning swiftly in the two hands. Though they were sparking with the damage from Marika's shots... it was hard to tell. Were they being held out by the Spin, or were they being held up by the Knightmare's own power? Was there even a functional difference either way?
"If we ever fight again, make sure to 'pay your respects'. Maybe then you will be able to win."
"If you think we're going to lose to Spin this easily –" Nora began, lunging forward with her spear out - but it was caught by an Alexander long before it reached its target. Marika tried to push her Knightmare to its feet - but it was already too twisted around to stand properly. She couldn't aim anything, nor even throw her lance. She couldn't do anything but watch.
"Leave her alone!" Octavia yelled, moving in to save Nora- but who would save her from the other Alexander? She was immediately forced to defend herself with her lance as it pounced the moment it looked like she was going to drop her guard.
"Hold on Marika!" Lilliana called out. "We'll save you!"
Just as soon as they got past those guys, right? No... Looking at them right now Marika didn't think they could do that. There was something different about the way those three were moving now. As part of a highly effective team Marika could see it even if she couldn't exactly put words to it.
The best way that she could describe it was 'fluid'. The three of them were in synch. They were covering each other's weaknesses and blind spots without missing a beat.
"... Sleipnir?" Gyro suggested. "Yes. That seems right. Odin's horse sounds about right for this beast. It has that kind of power behind it."
He had given the Knightmare a name. That was important. You don't decide on something's name until the moment it is important enough that it needs a name. That's what had changed between them: Gyro Zeppeli had psychologically accepted Knightmares.
"Run," Marika croaked. "Get out of here! You can't win!"
"Marika, what are you –"
Blast it, didn't they get it? They had to leave! Now! Gritting her teeth, Marika fumbled at her controls. There had to be something she could still do. Emergency eject, non functional... Weapons, none of them working... Ah! But the chaffe release. It was a one in a million shot. Everything rational was telling her 'this shouldn't work.' It was the only thing that she could do anymore before she would be crushed to death, so there was no way that the chaffe release would be the one function still working in her Knightmare. Right? The odds of that were astronomically against, so there was no way it would happen. Right?
Wrong. That's not how statistics work. Marika threw the switch. While she did not believe in God or anything like that she had seen enough to guess there might be some kind of entity listening in that might favour her in that moment. So for the first time in her life she sent out a silent prayer.
"Don't let my friends die here too."
The chaffe released, and with it her release also billowed out. White smoke that would interfere with short and long range scanning equipment, the ultimate cover for getting away.
"Run! Don't worry about me!" Marika yelled. "Just... Run!"
"Marika where –" Lilliana began to ask. "Mari–" And then nothing but static. The metal creaked around her one last time, then she closed her eyes and waited.
Then waited.
Then waited some more.
Then... She opened an eye. Slowly. The creaking of the metal had stopped for a little while now come to think of it. Though it then started up again with a sharp tearing sound accompanying it, then moonlight filled her cockpit and she was surrounded by three battered enemy Knightmares.
"It was a bluff," Gyro said from his open cockpit as if that explained everything. "It would need Super Spin to cause that kind of rotation. I just wanted to spook you and your friends."
The mortal dread lifted from her and transformed into abject humiliation. She'd just made her friends leave her behind as a prisoner of war! "I won't talk!" she warned. "No matter what you do, I won't say a word!"
"Yes, yes, yes..." Gyro mused. "You're talking while saying that you won't talk, using words to say you won't say a word. How very brave of you." She stuck her tongue out at him. "And mature as we~ell. I'm sure Enrico will like you quite a bit."
Marika slowly reached for her firearm. Who she would use it on, she wasn't a hundred percent sure. The point was moot anyway. His drawing arm was much, much faster than hers. Her entire right arm had gone completely numb in an instant.
"We have started spinning down the path set by history," Gyro said, seemingly to himself. "All of us. Pulled along by that infinite energy. Enrico calls it 'gravity' or 'the will of God', but I call it 'truth' and 'determination'. In the end it is our ability to stand against fate that marks us as human beings - and since the people of this world don't want to stand against fate, that is what makes it ugly. Beautiful on the surface, but ugly down to the core."
He tipped his hat and put his feet up on the controls. Not quite showing as much respect for his Knightmare as it first seemed. "Ugly down to the core... Just like a certain man who I can't wait to punch in the face. Hey, have you ever had someone like that?"
Marika kept her mouth shut. This guy, acting like a big shot. Throwing a spinning steel ball directly into her arm like that... She'd see that smugness torn to bloody pieces yet. Mark her words. He thought this world was 'ugly'? Well, he hadn't seen anything yet!
"From the way you're looking at me, I am that person," Gyro continued. Marika pointedly looked at something else and took great care to make sure that he could see her middle finger. "Well, that's a shame. We have more in common than you think. Our friends think we are already dead after we were attacked by a person we hate and put in a place that we hate. And... just like me, you'll probably do just about anything to get back there. Right?"
Marika rolled her eyes at that one. She didn't understand what he meant at all, but she didn't particularly care to either. That was an old interrogation technique: Pretend to sympathise with the prisoner to make them chatty. Well. At the very least he was correct about that very last part. When the moment came she'd do anything she could to get away. On her pride as a Valkyrie she would not suffer this defeat gladly!
Ah... But she might not have been so confident about that if she knew the meaning of the golden Alexander that was flying towards them right at that very moment. If she had seen that and understood what its pilot was capable of - in more ways than one - she would have been more terrified then than she had ever been in her life.
====JOJO====
"Which word in the English language holds the most power?"
Jonathan's question was abrupt. He knew it was, but the question had been gnawing on his mind ever since they launched. He knew the answer, of course. A learned man such as he, with such knowledge in history... Of course he knew. His real concern was simply if they knew.
"Fear," Lena answered almost immediately. How disappointing. "No, please forgive me. That is the emotion that holds the most power. You want the 'word' that holds more strength than any others."
"Freedom," a pilot answered. "For the sake of freedom, peaceful people will take up arms."
"Sorry," another pilot suggested. "A simple apology can change the direction of a relationship so easily, it's a wonder people are so proud they refuse to do it."
"Tsk, an answer like that is completely unsatisfying," Lena interjected. "If it's a word that Master Joestar desires, the word 'no' should certainly be a contender."
Jonathan froze time to take a look at the scenery. The stars above them were so beautiful tonight. It looked like a high chance of rain over Greece, from what he could tell. Ah... What a precious moment he had captured, all to himself. Then time resumed - and the priceless moment was forever lost.
"Think on it as we fight for the safety of Athens," Jonathan said. "Home base. Do you know where the enemy is located?"
"According to local reports, they have half a dozen on the beach and another half dozen approaching Athens," Cornelia told them.
"Then I will take those approaching Athens. The rest of you, take those on the beach. You are to ensure that no civilians are harmed by this cowardly invasion."
"Understood, Master Joestar! Together, we shall frighten them into submission!"
The capsule broke open and the six Knightmares flew out, leaving Jonathan Joestar free falling over Greece. It was a strange thing to think that he would visit Greece in this manner. Had he truly not found the time before now? In all the decades that had gone by, he had not visited a place so important to the history of the world's culture?
"Time... Even when you can freeze it, even when you cannot age, there never quite seems to be enough of it."
With that weary thought the unwilling vampire tugged at the ripcord on his backpack bringing out the parachute. This was a risky move at the speeds they had been flying at. Dangerous enough from an aircraft, but unchecked release from a capsule? Few others could survive such a thing.
Down below he caught sight of the Knightmares fast approaching Athens. In turn, they seemed to catch sight of him as well. They opened fire without hesitation. How tiresome. How frustrating. He had not wanted to make too big a deal of his arrival, and yet...
Jonathan extended his right hand as the bullets came in. The nearest of them approached and he flicked out his index finger. It bounced away and ricocheted into another nearby. In turn, they bounced off other bullets, altering the trajectory of every single one of them so that they sailed on by, directly past Jonathan and his parachute without scratching any of them.
"That Knightmare!" he called out, pointing at one in particular. "That is the Florence, is it not? A stolen Alexander, repurposed for the personal use of the Knight of Twelve! A pleasure to meet you Lady Krushevsky. Were it only in more pleasant circumstance."
The pilots of those Knightmares seemed rather taken aback. He could almost hear the 'Isn't that...?' chatter among their private channel. Jonathan was low enough to the ground by now. He detached his parachute and dropped, delicately like a falling leaf. His timing was impeccable: It had started to rain.
The Knightmares soon recovered from their surprise and moved to surround him.
"Alexander," Jonathan said. "A potent name in history, do you not agree?" Silence. "Alexander the Great? Of the Macedonian Empire?" Still nothing. "Although one has to wonder. Would he still be considered 'Great' if his father had not established such a mighty and experienced army for him to use?" Still silence. "Nothing to say for yourselves? Does history truly bore you so?"
"All Hail britannia!" the Knight of Twelve said in an impressively booming and commanding voice. The whole lot of them opened up what were probably intended as UV lights. Mysteriously, those UV lights were then completely frozen over before any of them knew what was happening. "Wh-what the -? How did he...?"
"Ladies, gentlemen," Jonathan bowed. "Do you happen to know which word in the English language is the strongest?"
A glimmer of light off to his left, and Jonathan deftly ducked his head to the side a moment later. A large armour piercing bullet sailed deftly by his head, then his arm shot out and grabbed it out of the air. A near thing as well. It would have almost certainly struck a stray cat lurking in a nearby bush.
"My apologies Miss Nu," Jonathan said, gently tossing the bullet in his hand while giving a meaningful look towards where the probably invisible Lamorak was lurking. He stepped forward, taking care of the very slight ice patch on the ground beneath him. "As a gentleman, I should probably pursue a different line of conversation."
A slash harken flew in aimed squarely at his head from the right hand side. Jonathan deftly caught it without breaking stride, and ice began to form on the harken's head as well as its cable.
"Let me tell you of a man that I regret never having the chance to meet. A good man. A man who spent his all too precious time striving to make the world a better place. A man whose very existence has been erased from this world by my actions."
As he spoke Jonathan's eyes misted over. He looked to the sky, and wondered. Since he could no longer shed tears, had this weather been a forecast of this bitter mood? He let go of the slash harken, in time to see an enemy Knightmare bearing down upon him with a superheated sword. While staring at it, his eyes grew harsher, sharper - and then a highly pressurised liquid shot clear out of them, rending the sword wielding arm clear from the frame's body.
"His name was... Naoto."
[To Be Continued |\|]
Stand Stats
Whitesnake
User: Enrico Pucci
Stats
Destructive Power: ? (Likely C or D)
Speed: D
Range: ? (Likely B or A)
Durability:A
Precision: ? (Likely B or C)
Learning Ability: ? (likely D or C)
Abilities:
Illusion: This Stand can create sophisticated illusions subject to Enrico Pucci's will. Those affected by the illusion can break out of it by noticing incongruities within the illusory state.
Disc Creation: By striking a victim's forehead this Stand may extract portions of a person's mind or abilities. Doing so will create discs that contain whatever has been extracted. These discs may then be inserted into anyone's head to give them access to whatever is contained on those discs.
Mind Control: By inserting its hands into a person Whitesnake may compel a single person at a time to obey Pucci's instructions.
