"Take the paints that you need and make sure to use all you have. The institution doesn't have all the money in Zepp, so we have to be careful with the materials that we do have," Potemkin told his students as they milled about, collecting their easels and canvases for the class work. His voice carried easily over the scraping of stools, the occasional swear word from one of the students and the rattling of the paint cans.

The students set up where they wanted to; some in a semi-circle, others over near the windows and the odd one or two facing the corners of the classroom. Someone had brought an old digital disc with the label Queen written across the front and began playing the music for the enjoyment of the class. Soon everyone was busy working, lost in his or her own world, and Potemkin began to take attendance. The slave turned warrior had silently made a bet with himself that Hannah would not be showing up today as he checked off the names. Coming down to Hannah Ziegt, Potemkin's eyes scanned the classroom looking for the wayward student. He was about to mark her absent for the last time when he saw her at the back of the classroom near one of the windows, her easel in front of her making Hannah all but invisible.

A rueful smile crossed Potemkin's face. So she finally had decided to show up, and judging from the way she was working furiously, had found an idea. Placing the list down on his desk, the art teacher strolled around the room, giving comments and tips on some of the students' works before finally arriving next to Hannah. Dressed in grey coveralls with a deep blue shirt, Hannah's hair was still hidden under her black hat. Her mixing board had swirls of colour on it, and flecks of the paint were smattered across her cheeks and over her right hand. She didn't seem to notice the professor looking at her.

"Hannah, you finally have an idea that seems to have possessed you," Potemkin stated. The girl blinked suddenly, then turned to face him.

"Yep, I certainly do. Just kinda came out of the darkness, you could say." She turned back to her canvas, her paintbrush tracing a thick red line down the left side of her work.

"And what is it about?"

Hannah shook her head. "Can't say, not right now. I'll be finished this in about three hours. The class goes all day, so I have plenty of time. You can come back and see it then, prof."

Taken a little aback from Hannah's blunt speech, Potemkin looked over her shoulder to see if he could figure out what she was drawing. It didn't look anything organic like, and from the lines Hannah had already traced lightly over her canvas, the object of her attention seemed to be more mechanical than anything else.

"Very well then, just make sure that you don't use up all the white and red paint." Turning to head back to the front of the class, Potemkin began to set out his own easel and painting that he had brought in from his home. No one would suspect that such a giant of a man would have the soul of an artist, but then most people that knew Potemkin only knew one side of him. The Zepp warrior wasn't exactly the keenest of people to change the mental image that people got from him, and it was just as well.

Touching up on a water colouring of a grove that he had once seen in his travels, Potemkin drifted off into his own world, his foot tapping out the rhythm to Queen's "We Will Rock You."

Hannah's hands literally flew across the canvas as she tried to remember what Justice looked like and transfer his image into something more substantial. Before her eyes the Gear's form began to take hold. First the flaming red hair that Hannah remembered so well from him appeared, following by the heavy shoulder armour and the talons. She made the tail coil around his legs like a deadly serpent, mixing the colours until it looked as if there was real light shining on the deadly scythe at the end. Hannah spent the longest part of her class working on the eyes, capturing the cool and deadly intelligence that lurked within.

When the institution's bell rang the lunch hour, most of the students dropped what they had been doing and immediately headed off to the cafeteria. A few, Hannah included, stayed behind to finish up on their work. Potemkin took this moment to walk back over to Hannah and see how far she had come along. The girl, who had been cleaning off her brushes over by the sink, turned her head to the side to judge her teacher's reaction. He'll be impressed I know it. I worked so hard on getting everything down; hell I can even maybe put that painting up in a gallery, Hannah gleefully thought. For her, things seemed to finally be turning around.

It was Professor Potemkin's reaction that made Hannah's gut sink.

He had stepped back from the canvas at first to grade the work she had done, looking thoughtful with a hand on his chin. Then it looked as if the Zepp warrior had been slapped full across the face. Potemkin's skin, while dark, turned almost ashen as he stepped closer to look at the painting. Lifting it off the easel and into his massive hands, Potemkin nearly pressed his face up to the still drying paint. Then, without warning, the professor dropped the canvas to the ground and turned on Hannah.

All the students that had remained in the classroom looked at their teacher. No one had seen him angry, but there was a first time for everything. And right now, it was the first time they had ever seen him angry.

"Where did you see this? How do you know of these things Hannah?" he spoke daggers to Hannah. Dropping her brushes into the sink with a surprised look, Hannah's eyes quickly narrowed as she balled her hands into fists. Potemkin's rant continued as he walked towards the student. "I asked you a question and you will answer it! Where did you find the image of this Gear?! WHERE!!"

By this time all the students had bolted. They feared more for their lives than the unfolding drama, and not one of them were willingly going to risk their necks for Hannah. Standing up against Potemkin was a challenge few were willing to take, but Hannah stood where she was, her own face filled with anger.

"You think you can pressure me into telling you where that image of that Gear came from? You can't work this police crap on me, prof! I know my rights!"

"At this moment you have no rights," Potemkin thundered. "What you have put as your artwork was something once that the whole world feared, something that people didn't want to know anything about. That knowledge was suppressed. And now here is some student who knows nothing of world politics creating an image that for the past hundred years has caused whole nations to live in terror!"

Hannah backed up as Potemkin advanced on her, her back sliding along the wall. The massive warrior sidestepped her, effectively cutting off her escape route. "You are not going anywhere," he growled. "By the powers that have been given to me by Zepp, as a warrior of the nation, I Potemkin, am placing you Hannah Ziegt, under arrest for suspicion of knowledge of the Command Gear Justice." Potemkin quickly strode to the front of the room and flicked on the intercom switch. In his deep voice he informed the operator on the other end that he required security in the art studio as quickly as possible.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. Hannah didn't believe any of the words she was hearing, or the situation that had happened so quickly. While the logical side of her mind shut off in numb horror, the survivalist inside took over. Hannah had heard about Zepp's jail cells; her mother had worked there and she had no intention of visiting. As Potemkin reached forwards to grab Hannah in his massive hands, the girl ducked underneath and to the left. Rolling along the floor and springing quickly to her feet, Hannah raced towards the door of the classroom.

Sprinting around the corner and not bothering to look behind her, Hannah took off down the halls of the institution at a dead run. The peoples faces in the corridors became nothing more than blurs as she whipped past them, knocking over a few or crashing into a couple that were too slow to move out of her way. Behind her, Hannah could hear surprised yells, as the students no doubt got out of the way as Potemkin barrelled after her.

All of this just because of a painting! If I knew this was going to happen then I would have stuck to drawing flowers, Hannah thought too late. Turning to her right, Hannah began racing down a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. Anyone who got in her way was knocked down in the girl's panic.

She knew she wasn't a criminal; she hadn't done anything wrong. What knowledge did she have of Justice? Hannah had only talked to the Gear twice in her dreams, and even then it wasn't for that long! How could something like a picture land her in Zepp's prisons with no chance of escape? From the way Potemkin had been going on about the Command Gear, he was acting like it had been one of the biggest threats that mankind had faced during the hundred year war.

"Institution security! Stop at once or prepare for the consequences!"

Hannah grabbed a hold of the railing, coming to a completely halt on the stairwell as she faced the institution's security that stood waiting at the bottom. Dressed in black body gloves and wearing riot gear, they were treating Hannah like she really was a threat. The students that had been milling about now stared in frozen shock at what was happening. The leader had a baton out and held it loosely in one hand. Pointing it at Hannah, he spoke.

"Come quietly and nothing bad will happen."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Hannah spoke gruffly. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"That's up for the courts to decide," the leader of the squad spoke. He began to advance on Hannah. She took a step back up the stairwell.

"Fuck you, I didn't do anything wrong and I'm sure as hell not going to jail!" Not waiting another moment, Hannah leapt over the side of the stairwell and down to the ground. It was a jarring impact, and she felt a flash of pain up along her legs. As the institution's security moved forwards to grab Hannah, the girl was off once again and running.

Her lungs were burning for air. More than once Hannah felt like her legs were about to give out from under her. The students, hoping to help capture this seemingly dangerous student, began to block the exits from her. As Hannah raced along a gallery, one or two of the students actually tried to grab her by the legs and bring her to the ground. Hannah decided to finally give up when she rounded the last corner and smacked headfirst into Potemkin. The impact was so powerful it threw the girl right back onto the floor. All she could do was dully sit up and try to make sense of the spinning world as she was handcuffed.

"You will be placed under maximum security until we can figure out what this is all about," Potemkin explained to Hannah as she was escorted out of the building and into the waiting anti-grav car. He looked the girl straight in the eye and wondered briefly for a moment how she had come to know about Justice. "And representatives of the once-Sacred Knighthood will be contacted to deal with you."

Closing the door, Potemkin gave the signal for the driver to head off. As the armoured car rounded a corner and was lost from view, the art teacher pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered around the institution. Heading back into the deserted art studio, Potemkin lifted the canvas of Justice off from the ground and looked it over. He remembered being part of the Tournament to seal the damn thing away, and he remembered all too well the slaughters that followed in Justice's wake. What Hannah had to do with such a thing, Potemkin hoped that he would find out soon. He had to place a call to President Gabriel, who would then notify the people that would be able to handle the growing problem that not only Zepp, but perhaps the whole world, could be facing.

~~~

Parry. Thrust. Counter. Slid back into a defensive position.

Ky Kiske, once a high-ranking officer within the now disbanded Sacred Knighthood and now an officer of the law, stood outside in the gardens near his headquarters in France and practiced his sword technique. Just because it was a time of peace did not mean that he could become lax with his training. There was always a threat in the world; Ky had learned that much in his twenty-five years. He had faced down threats that would have made lesser people faint, and he owed his survival only to his own skill and sometimes to that of the faithful companions that he travelled with.

Lowering his lightning sword, Ky wiped his brow with the back of his hand and decided that taking a break would be the best thing at the moment. Looking up at the sun, high above in the sky and creating the sweltering heat that was common in the summer; the knight sat down on one of the benches and closed his eyes.

"Mr. Kiske. There is a matter of the highest importance that concerns you!" The aide's voice brought Ky back to the present, and opening his eyes he could see the aide from headquarters walking quickly through the garden towards him, holding a white piece of paper in one hand and waving it around.

Ky accepted it from the aide, nodded his thanks to the young man, then quickly read over the words printed in black ink. What he saw there made him drop the lightning sword from nerveless fingers.

"Sir," the aide inquired. "Are you all right?"

"I need immediate transport to Zepp," Ky turned to the aide, speaking quickly. "Contact the United Nations and have them send the inner council. Do it quickly! Do it right now!" The aide nodded and took off running through the garden and back to the white building that was headquarters. Ky looked at the paper he was holding with disbelief, then quickly crumbled it.

"Pray God that this is not so," he whispered. "Pray God."