Zepp was the world's most technologically advanced city. While it was part of a grand empire, the capital was itself never stationary, always moving from place to place. Floating above the surface of the Earth, the powerful anti-gravity fields that were housed into the metal base of Zepp keeping it afloat, the citizens could look down and appreciate the ever-changing view. Human eyes could gaze over the distant green fields, littered here and there with clumps of trees, rare to see in this day and age. Zepp coasted high over the oceans, gulls flying underneath the metropolis while an endangered species of whale rose to the surface of the grey waves.
Ships were always coming and going from the city. The docks, made up of an outer ring that surrounded Zepp, was full of airships that bore the banners of trade federations and clans. Trade was always brisk, illegal as well as legal. Legitimate businessmen from other nations docked at Zepp with the interests of the world markets on their minds, while the pirates were focused on how to steal the profits and make them their own. In the docking holds of the busy city, Zepp guardsmen were always alert for the shady character that might cause harm from the city within. It was because of these ever-present guardsmen that the crime rate inside the city, despite the black market, was surprisingly low.
The military presence in Zepp had always been strong. For a nation that held vast technological advancements unseen to the rest of the world, they needed the best of security to back it up. As the former president had once said, Zepp would lose its edge against the world if their secrets were stolen and then brought out to the general mass. Along the metropolis' outer walls, made of adamantium, there were anti-aircraft batteries with crews always watching the skies. Inside the city proper, soldiers walked briskly down the streets that were made from metal and mesh. For a nation that had just finished a war, and barely coming up as the winning side, Zepp was not quick to lose its military might as some of the other countries had been.
Hannah, who had lived every day of her life seeing the soldiers walk down the streets, who had seen the reconnaissance crafts fly overhead, did not pay attention to them today. She was still mulling over her nightmare, not bothering to really watch where she was going. Waking up late for her classes, Hannah hadn't bothered to rush to the institution. She was in a dark mood that day.
Her grey eyes were red-rimmed and held bags under them. The girl had taken her time in getting dressed; wearing a pair of faded black jeans and an old purple hooded sweater. A black ski cap covered her unbrushed hair, the tips sticking out from underneath wildly. Not bothering to eat, Hannah had grabbed her art supplies and headed off, the magnetic lock on the door locking behind her.
Gears. Why the hell did it have to be a Gear, of all things, to come into my head and start talking to me? Is there some sort of invisible sign over my head in Dreamland stating, "Come and enter Hannah's dream! She doesn't mind, she likes having her privacy invaded!" Having walked the same route before, Hannah's feet had no problem going on autopilot while her mind was absorbed with its new problem.
I wonder what will happen if I tell anyone this? Would they lock me up and say that I'm in league with the Gears? Zepp's history with the Gears have been bloody, and... Hannah's eyes looked up, past the buildings made of concrete and glass, and into the sky. Her grandmother had told her once that the citizens of Zepp had lived in fear when the sirens had wailed, signalling the approach of a Gear attack. That the chances of Zepp actually repelling the invaders were slim to none. Then again, Hannah mused, all the Gears that have ever been listed in the archives were the ones that were deactivated or destroyed.
Suddenly the girl gave a short laugh, making a passing guardsman look at her weirdly. Hannah turned away, pulled her sweater's hood up over her face and continued on her way. This means then that that voice in my dream couldn't have been a Gear! Yeah, that's right! Hell, she thought smugly, if I do dream about that place again and meet that voice, I'm not gonna run this time. I'm going to say to it "You're a lying bastard! No Gears were sealed in another dimension; the books would have said so!"
Pleased with her line of reasoning, Hannah's dark mood lifted. Giving a wide grin the young woman soon found herself walking faster to the institution where her classes were being held. Entering the tall building, made of a material that was similar to stainless steel, Hannah walked the familiar route down the corridors to her art class. Peering through the glass window into the classroom, seeing that the class was already well underway in painting on their canvases, Hannah gave a groan. She didn't see the teacher, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. The professor wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous of men.
Sliding open the door as quietly as possible, Hannah squeezed through the opening and edged along the wall of the classroom, heading for an empty seat near the back. She was nearly there when the voice of her art teacher made her freeze in her tracks.
"And why are you late, Ms. Hannah?"
All eyes in the classroom turned their attention to Hannah. An uneasy smile on her face, and the shame of being caught reddening it, Hannah turned around to face the teacher. Yes, he certainly wasn't someone anyone could miss. For a man that had once been a slave pit in the early days of Zepp rule, then someone who had turned into a warrior who fought the Gears, the art teacher at the institution was not someone anyone wanted to answer questions to.
Professor Potemkin folded his muscular arms over his chest and glared down at the late student, clearly not amused. Dwarfing Hannah by a good nine feet, Potemkin used his height to intimidate her as best as he could. Hannah had been late many times before, and while he was not above using the kinder methods to ensure that she would not be late, it was time for the art teacher to now use brute force.
"Well, what is your excuse this time?"
Hannah cleared her throat nervously; fingers gripped her art case tightly. "Well, I'm late because I was nearly hit by one of those crazy drivers. You know, the type that think they own the road and us pedestrians are nothing more than little people to hit and get points off of?" Judging by the look her professor was giving her; Hannah's story was sinking faster than a stone in water. She tried another excuse. "There was a lady who needed help getting her groceries home? A street fight that needed to be broken up? I was tripped by an invisible rabbit?"
Potemkin interrupted Hannah before she could make another lie. He waved away her excuses with a massive hand and pointed to an empty seat. "I don't care to hear any more excuses. Take your seat and work on your canvas." The teacher turned away, speaking as he walked back to the head of the class. "You do have an idea for an art project at least, don't you?"
"I uh... I..." Hannah hunched her shoulders forwards and muttered, "No sir, I don't." Her face burned with embarrassment as she heard snickers from the rest of the class. She knew what was going to happen next.
"You know my rules in the classroom," Potemkin stated firmly. "If you do not have an idea for class, then you are not only wasting your time, but mine. I have already marked you as absent, Hannah. Come back to class when you no longer wish to come late, and when you have an idea for an art project. This is a place for creativity and learning, not some place to slack off."
Walking slowly at first, and then picking up speed, Hannah moved back to the classroom's door. Wrenching it open, Hannah slammed the door behind her with as much force as possible, then turned and walked quickly back the way she had come. Hot tears of anger leaked from her eyes and coursed down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. The good mood that the young woman had been in was gone, and nothing else that happened to her today would make it any better.
Nearly tripping on her way out of the institution, Hannah growled angrily and stormed away down the street and back to her house. She was angrier with herself than at her teacher, but she would never admit such a thing.
Potemkin watched his student stalk away furiously though the streets and shook his head as she vanished around a corner. Hannah was one of the more... difficult cases that Potemkin had the unfortunate fate to be assigned with. The former warrior of Zepp had taken up the position of being an art teacher because he needed a change to his life. Potemkin's hobby, when he had not been assigned by Gabriel to participate in a black ops mission, was painting and drawing. After so much fighting, the warrior thought that the only good thing he could give back to humanity was something from the arts, and teaching it to the younger generation was something that he enjoyed.
Until he had met Hannah. Staring across the metallic landscape that was Zepp, a city that had once made him a slave and now hailed him as a hero, Potemkin recalled the first time he had met her. She had been accepted into the class only because the art portfolio that she had given in had amazed the professors' board. Hannah had been an introverted girl, rarely talking to anyone and staying much to herself. When she did show up to classes Hannah was either late or half-asleep. The work she did was mediocre at best, making Potemkin wonder if she really was all that keen on drawing to begin with, or being in the class as well. He had tried telling Hannah that she had better improve and soon or she would be thrown from the class. As far as Potemkin could tell, Hannah didn't seem to give a damn.
The way she acted reminded the Zepp warrior disturbingly of someone else he had once known, someone who did not give a care for rules or regulations and constantly flipped the middle finger in the face of the law. Shaking his head again, Potemkin mentally told himself that he would give Hannah one more chance and then if that did not work, she would not be allowed back to the institution again.
* * *
I told you that you would come back.
Hannah opened her eyes. Once again, she was floating in the darkness, only this time the pinpricks of light were high above her and beyond her reach. She found that she could control her movements even if she was weightless in the air. A part of Hannah was advising her that it was in her best interest to wake up from the dream –
(leave the dimension)
- that she was in, but a larger portion of her body and mind told her to toss the idea. Her day could not get any worse, and the voice and presence of a supposed Gear wouldn't make Hannah slide any lower down the ladder of depression.
"Yeah, I guess I am back," she replied in a voice devoid of energy. "Just to say, whatever you want to do, scare me and all, it's not gonna work. I don't really give a shit at this moment."
Why is that?
"I had a bad day," Hannah grumbled, "and I'm not going to talk about it. In fact, I really don't want to talk at all so you can go off and do something else to amuse yourself."
There was a lengthy silence for a moment, then, If you do not want to talk, then that is fine by me. I, on the other hand, want to speak. It has been a long time since I have seen anyone and I would even enjoy the presence of a lowly human.
Hannah rolled over to her right, looking in the blackness to where the voice had come from. "Lowly human? Oh wow, I'm so glad that you think that for even a lowly human, I rate attention on your scale." The sarcasm was apparent in her voice. Any fear that Hannah had the night before from this supposed Gear had vanished.
You seem to have a high opinion of yourself.
"The rest of the world doesn't seem to think the same," Hannah shot back. Crossing her left leg over her right and folding her arms behind her head, the young girl floated in the void. "You know, one day you think everything is going to be alright, then the next moment someone has to knock you back down to the ground and walk over you. That people want to keep you down under their thumb; that you have to follow their orders and all that shit."
I know the feeling. The air rippled around Hannah. I know it all too well. That the moment you wish to gain independence, someone has to take it from you. That they must keep you on a short leash like a well-trained dog who must always follow the commands of its master.
Hannah cocked her head to one side. She thought she heard a tinge of regret in the voice. "Yeah," she replied, "yeah, its that feeling." She shook her head. "This is so crazy. I'm talking to a voice that's supposedly in another dimension."
Why should it be crazy?
"Because it is." A thought came to Hannah's mind. "You said that I left an imprint in here, before I decided to do the dash to the light deal?"
Yes human, I did. A mental imprint.
"And you said yourself, whose supposedly a Gear-"
I am a Gear! A note of indignant anger filled the voice.
Hannah held up her hands, palms outwards. "Sorry, sorry buddy. God, you don't have to take my head off, you know? Anyways, you said you were surprised that a human and not a Gear can travel to other dimensions. Why is that?"
Gears are the superior race. The powers that we hold are unimaginable. Humans seem to have little in the way of mental power, but you have something that allows you to traverse the barriers. A hint of curiosity entered into the next question. Tell me human, what is your name?
"What's it to you?" Hannah shot back, her hands now stuffed into her jeans pockets.
I would like to know who I am addressing.
She snorted. "Wow, who would have thought that one moment you'd be chasing me and the next we're talking to pass the time? Fine then, you tell me your name and how the hell you got here then. My name's Hannah, Hannah Ziegt. And you are?"
The voice rose dramatically, like a person giving a proclamation. I am Justice, the Gear Messiah. Once I walked the Earth and all feared my power. I was the one who brought about the war between the humans and the Gears. I was struggling for our independence from Mankind, who used us like slaves. And because I rose up against such injustice, I was sealed away here where I could no longer help my own kind.
Hannah was unimpressed. "I've never heard of you, buddy. And besides," she continued, "I don't even know what you look like. Gears were towering things, and who knows, maybe you might cast a big shadow but who is to say that you're not a small frog of some sort?"
A frog? A frog?! Justice did not sound the least bit amused. Do you wish to see my true form, Hannah Ziegt? To see the face of the Gear Messiah who made the Sacred Knighthood tremble in fear?
A small quivering started in Hannah's legs. One moment it had been nothing but banter, now the conversation had taken a turn she had not expected. Swallowing loudly, forcing the shivering to stop, Hannah squared her shoulders. "Sure, go for it then, Justice. I'm not afraid of you. You're just a voice in the darkness."
The darkness in front of Hannah twisted into something... something that was definably not human. There was not flesh to Justice; his 'skin' looked to be a hard carapace of white armour. His hands were black, the ended tipped with wicked looking claws. A tail that bore resemblance to a spinal cord whipped out behind him, the end tipped with a scythe. Along Justice's shoulders the armour there was heavier, more bulky. It was edged in blue, with white spikes jutting out along the top. Hannah's mind registered it to be some sort of missile compartment of all things.
It was Justice's face, though, that held her attention. Yellow slitted eyes burned with a fierce intelligence; underneath Hannah could sense hatred towards the captors that had imprisoned Justice in his prison. He had no mouth... All his thoughts are telepathic; Hannah's mind quickly flew with the information. A mass of flaming red hair, the colour of fresh blood, flowed down his back and over metal plates that to Hannah's eyes registered as ears. But it was impossible, because what she was seeing before her was not anything that was... human.
Justice was a Gear as he had stated.
Now that you have seen me, as I am Hannah, are you not in awe of me? Of what I am? Of what I could do? Of the fear of my kind?
Nodding her head, all Hannah could utter was, "Impressive." Then she added, "But I never heard of a Gear called Justice."
Never? The Knighthood has done its job well if they have eradicated every trace of me and made the civilians unaware of my existence. Justice flexed his hands. Why do such things not surprise me? The humans have become as stupid as the cattle that they truly are. Fit for nothing more than to be fodder for Gears.
Giving a shaky laugh, Hannah rubbed the back of her head. "Well, at least I know that I am talking to a Gear now... a psychotic one who has a hatred to all humankind and thinks he's a messiah," she added under her breath. Justice turned his eyes to Hannah, studying her intently.
What did you say just then, Hannah? Justice took a step towards her. For a being that was even taller than Potemkin, Hannah was afraid that she might get trampled under Justice's feet.
"Ohwee, look at the time!" Hannah made a show of looking at a watch that she did not have on her wrist. "I have to get going. You know, I need my sleep and all that. I'm just a human after all, not some all-powerful Gear." Hannah began to back away from Justice.
Do not patronize me. You said something.
Shaking her head vigorously in denial, Hannah looked for a small point of light that would allow her to leave the dimension she was in. "I didn't say anything important. It's been nice meeting you Justice, but I really have to get going."
Another step backwards.
You will return, Hannah. The way Justice spoke it; it was as if he was giving her an order.
Another foot placed behind her, more distance between her and the Gear. "Of course I'll be back, Justice. Like you said, I'm always going to be coming back here."
Yes, you will, he mused.
"Well then, ta for now!" Before the Gear could react, Hannah had darted off to a point of light not twenty feet from her. If Justice was following her, he gave no sign, for Hannah was already at the light and grasping it in between her hands. When she woke, sprawled out on the couch in the living room, the young girl gave a smile.
She had an idea for her art project now.