Calais

"What? What's this…? Mitsukake…" Marcus felt himself shaking. He felt a chi briefly flare, then fade slowly until he could no longer feel a thing. He had been able to feel the chi of his fellow peers. He knew each one of them. The strongest one had been that of Dwight, but it had suddenly faded. 'Did he die? No, he couldn't have… No, I can't delude myself. I felt his chi at full strength.'

He gazed up. 'Then he must've used his chi to heal or protect someone. No, you didn't give your life again like you did before… You didn't give your life to protect Chelsea…' He smiled thankfully, as a thin solitary tear fell from his left eye. 'Thank you my friend. You've done something honourable even at the price of your own life.'

"Ya felt it too?" Brennan broke the silence around them, as he made his whispered remark; his gaze turned to Marcus, as he walked over and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Seadh…" the lieutenant replied. "He gave his life to protect Chelsea. We made a promise to protect the younger generation of reincarnations. Both Ike and I have been graced with our lives and now it's your turn to have it. So, we made a promise to make sure that you'll get to live to see a world without war."

"He gave his life for Chelsea?" Brennan cried out, feeling torn between the ecstasy of knowing Chelsea was all right and the pain from the loss of General Marshall. He had been close to both of them as he had as one of the Suzaku seven.

"Yes, and that is all I know…" Marcus replied, removing his hat, to dedicate a moment of silence to his friend.

The other three followed suited and removed their own, while the two young adults nearby who had been talking to the men earlier, watched in silence, gauging what the discussion could be possibly be…

"I don't trust the! They're no better than the Germans!"

"We don't know that yet, Achan. We should trust them at least a little."

"But, Ariel! We trusted that bastard and it got us almost killed!" Achan hissed scathingly, his eyes flaring angrily, as he recalled the memory of the SS officer that had seemed to be a friend, but in the end, was really no better than the rest.

"That may be so, but they couldn't possibly be any worse than the other people. At least we have our powers to protect us." Arial assured her younger brother.

Achan snorted derisively. "A lot of good that'll do when we're outnumbered against their forces; whom also have powers that are probably better than ours to begin with."

"Would you stop being so negative for once? It would be a refreshing change." Arial sighed, raising a hand to her head, wondering how much longer she could deal with her brother before she felt like personally killing him, and saving the Germans the hassle.

"Just because I can't trust someone, doesn't mean I'm being negative! I'm being logical and not trusting the first thing that crosses my path because I'm bloody desperate. I do not wish to wind up dead because you trust anyone and everyone, Ariel!"

"That is a lie and you know it!" Ariel exclaimed, feeling her anger swell. Never had she ever disagreed so badly with her brother before, and on any issue. But lately, they seemed not to be getting along well as they once had. She believed that it was because they were spending all their time together and hadn't had a break from each other in so long.

"No, it's the truth and you can't take the truth can, you… No, you can't. You can't think of any other reply than your little denial."

"Stop your little lies! Mother would have washed you mouth out with soap if she had heard you say such things!"

"But she's not here and she's not hear because you just had to trust the damn Germans, didn't you? Didn't you? It's your fault she was killed!"

Ariel went to protect, but, before she could, something exploded just exactly where she and Achan were standing. The impact killed them instantaneously and sent their mutilated corpses flying a short distance, each landing apart, partially disembowelled, and their limbs not all fully attached. The shell of the rocket propelled grenade was embedded in the ground upon which the siblings had been standing just seconds before. A small crater indicated where the grenade had exploded.

Ariel lay on the ground, a foot or so away from the sight of the attack; her body twisted in an awkward position, blood trickling from her torso, and entrails hanging from her stomach. Her face was caked in mud and blood. The expression on her face conveyed shocked, anger and hurt. Her eyes were frozen with a dull glint of shock.

Just a couple of feet away, Achan lay also dead. His left arm was clearly blown off, blood gushing from the wound. His head was twisted around, his eyes opened wide and his mouth slightly opened as a thin trail of blood trickled down the side. The left profile of his face, which faced up to the sky, was partially missing, as it had been maimed in the attack; the flesh hung off his skull limply.

The four men turned at the sound of the explosion. They raised their arms and shielded their faces from the dust and debris that erected from the ground with the attack. Once the smoke and dust settled, the four ran over to where the attack occurred and were met with the sight of the two dead bodies, belonging to Ariel and Achan.

Reaching down, Marcus moved the eyelids of each of the children into the closed position, gently turned their bodies onto the backs and stood back. Clutching his hands together in a prayer, he prayed for their souls and for God to give a home to the two children. Once he finished his prayer, he gazed up, noting the sudden influx of American and British forces in the area, as well as the 16th Irish Division. His gaze then turned to the sight where the attack originated from.

'They don't waste any time…' he thought as he ran forward, skilfully dodging another rocket grenade attack, and hopped into the bunker with Brennan, Jeremiah and Séamus, and took the rifle that Brennan held out to him. He quickly loaded it and hoisted it into position and prepared to attack any German forces that came their way.

"Brennan, Jeremiah, Séamus, be prepared to ward off all Nazis. This is a matter of life or death. After all, the only way we win is if we kill them." Marcus declared, as he aimed his gun, assumed a sniper position and crawled to the peak-out hole and began to fire, rapidly taking down the Germans who were near this post.

They watched in awe as he brought down one German after another. Marcus reloaded with such speed and dexterity; the three young men couldn't help but to watch. They felt inferior next to him, for they had never seen such remarkable marksmanship in their lives.

Shaking this off, the three also assumed position and mimicked the task that Marcus was doing, thus, increasing the number of Germans brought down by allied fire. They didn't hit all on target, but it still felt good to do something for their countries and to see such results. The thrill was intense; the knowledge was overwhelming and the experience, as each of the bullets shot out from the barrel of their rifles would forever transform each of these young men. Their childhoods were instantaneously vanquished to another place, as they entered manhood in an honourable way, proving the chivalry wasn't yet dead.

They knew that this was a matter of honour and valour, and if they lost, their names would be forever tarnished in the records of history.

~~~~

Among the group; the influx of American and British forces, were the two captains, JC Andreas and Russell Stonewall, who arrived with their forces, independent of one another, even though the arrival of their forces coincided with the other.

Giving specific orders to his men, Captain Andreas then took a round of ammunition, his rifle, bullets for his pistol and headed off in the direction of the town, which was for the most part, abandoned, except for a few hopefuls and a handful of German Soldiers. He knew that was where he wanted to go; that's where he felt the chi of Lt. Van Eyke; the man who wanted dead. However, little did he that there was someone else with this man on their hit list and that was Captain Stonewall, who had gone with just his rifle and pistol, without spare ammunition in search of the offending party…

Lieutenant Johann Van Eyke was issuing his commands from his control centre at the hospital, which is company used as headquarters in the area for communication, storage and distribution. It also served as a temporary holding location for any POWs, political prisoners and anyone else who opposed their occupation and rule.

He sat back, holding the microphone of the makeshift radio in his hand, as he reflected on his latest command for his troops to fan out and take sniper positions, luring in the allied forces. As he reflected, his turned his gaze to the map of the area he had mounted on the wall. Standing up, he took a position in front of it and studied it for a moment before he made some changes to the troop positioning.

He rested his hand on his chin for another moment, contemplatively, as he thought of the positive and negative of his plan; trying to find the slightest error that would be costly. He tacked up other coloured pins to represent allied movement, based on the reports he was getting. He then glared at it as he placed the allied positions. There was a large chunk converging near Calais from the north, and he had only snipers there, none of his heavy artillery units in order to gun down the allied forces by the dozens.

There were only two other officers working in this room. They served to take in calls from the field for constant updates from the officers that were out there, as well as any calls from the home front. They had been recently in contact with one of the generals there, but received a scathing response because the allied forces had landed, though suffering numerous casualties, made a dent in the German western front.

Their orders came harshly, and were to be carried out ruthlessly. They were to cleanse the area of all allied forces and burn any bodies left over. They were to destroy allied morale, and deter any future attempt by the allies to penetrate the stronghold at Calais. They were warned that if the allied forces weren't repelled, that severe consequences awaited them at home.

This order had been passed down the chain of command and was being carried out in full-force on the front outside the control centre. The explosions, though no where actually near the building, on occasion, seemed to be rocking the foundation of the hospital, causing a bit of a distraction to the focus of the command area.

After writing down the latest bit, the officer handed it off to Lt. Van Eyke and went back to manning his station, as a third – one of about a dozen runners – came running into the room, curtly saluting the lieutenant and passing off a report. "Latest death count, sir! The figures are crude."

Taking it, Lt. Van Eyke, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it up and read over the statistics. "Any information on the so-called, 'allied forces'?"

"Based on my observations, sir, they are coming in at full force and coming on strong. We can hold some back, but there are far too many of them for our forces to hold out for a very long time. You'll have to send for reinforcements from Caen or Dunkirk, or another nearby stronghold, which doesn't need such a strong presence, because, even though we're outnumbered, it doesn't do us any good if these bastards can keep sending in their men by the boat-load."

"Scheiße!! Fich, fich, fich!!" Lt. Van Eyke grabbed the letter opener from his desk and plunged it with the force of his anger into the centre of the map. He let go after that, still staring hard at the map. Then, without turning, anger pervasive in his eyes, he scathingly ordered, "get the hell out and lay the area to waste! Spare no one! Take no prisoners! I don't want any of those bastards to get out alive!"

"J-ja…" the soldier replied, smartly saluting his superior before he ran out. He was scared shitless of Lt. Van Eyke as it stood; he really didn't like to see that man angered. It didn't pay to brew any hostilities with Lt. Van Eyke, for no one lived to tell about it.

'They are going to pay dearly for this…'

"Lichtenberg!" He barked out, pivoting violently on his heel and walking over, slamming a piece of paper down on the table. "Get these damn orders out to the field! I want the bloody allies filling those damn potholes on the road from where the landmines were detonated. Now, get off your worthless fat Catholic ass and get the hell out there! We have too many lollygaggers here; be useful!"

He pulled out the chair his soldier was sitting on and dumped the man on the floor. "Get before I make you a bloody human shield."

He turned, anger still blazing in his golden yellow eyes; his lips gnarled into a hateful expression as he ordered coldly. "What are you doing anyway, Lehmann? Enjoying a leisurely moment while the rest of us bust our asses so you can sit and watch yours grow? Get the hell up, use that gun of yours that is gathering dust and defend your mother land!"

The cigarette he had been smoking was at the butt, so he took it and extinguished the smouldering ashes on Lehmann's hand.

Jumping, Lehmann rubbed the part of his hand that had been singed and glared indignantly at his commanding officer, before he coiled and turned away, internally shuddering. He knew better than to cross an angry superior officer, especially one like Van Eyke, who almost never lost his temper over anything! Thus, he seized his gun and ran out after Lichtenberg.

'You can't trust anyone…'

He sighed and ducked to pick up something. It was actually very lucky that he had just ducked, or a bullet that lodged itself in the wall, would have penetrated his skull, killing instantly. He growled, and knelt down, unsheathing his pistol, loading it and cocking it. He then reached and grabbed his helmet and rolled out into position and fired, hitting the doorframe.

"Verdamnt!"

His eyes scrutinised the vicinity critically. He felt the presence nearby. A thin smirk crept over his lips. 'So, it has begun. The little children want to play with the big bad wolf. That is fine by me. It gives me something to do. It's a good way to pass the time. I like playing with little children who don't have any common sense not to play with fire…'

He licked his lips in anticipation, as he knelt, remaining perfectly still; waiting for the ignorant allied soldier to return to take another attempt on his life. He could taste the bittersweet blood of the soldier on his lips; feel the hot life fluids streaming over his hands. The glistening blood tainted his vision. That was all he saw. It was all he could taste. It was all he could hear; he could hear his own pulse, as the sound of rushing blood pulsated in his ears.

He ceased even breathing as he heard footsteps approach. 'That's it, come closer. Each step brings the Germans closer to victory. You are going to try and be a hero, but you never will be; you're just a little delusional child.'

He held his breathe in keenness, his eyes uncultivated with murderous desire.

The footsteps stopped.

The soldier gazed up from under the rim of his helmet.

'He's around here. I can feel him.' The man's gorgeous brown eyes peered carefully into the room. He moved his head slightly, strands of beautiful chocolate brown hair trickling down into his sights. He pushed the bangs back as the fell in his face and pressed his back against the wall, reloading his pistol.

The British captain counted to ten, knowing that the German officer would be anticipating his arrival, especially since he had missed putting a bullet through that bastard's skull and out of his misery.

'…four…three…two……. Damnit…!' Captain Stonewall thought, as he dropped to the floor, rolling away, as he heard a shot whiz by his head, even though it wasn't all that close to him.

It was now or never…

"Don't move. Wait a minute. You shouldn't go in without any cover. You never go into battle without backup. You should have learned that from your last life, when you foolishly challenged me in battle." Captain Andreas purred snidely, as he slithered up silently behind Captain Stonewall.

He eyed the little equipment that Captain Stonewall was carrying.

"You should know better than to take on someone without being prepared. Is that all the ammunition and arsenal you are carrying into battle? It's a wonder you haven't been killed yet, Stonewall."

"No one asked for your opinion!" he retorted scathingly, glaring daggers at the blonde American.

"No, but you are poorly equipped for your endeavour. I'm covering your back, so don't get all uppity on me because I decided to protect your lousy hide."

"No one said you had---"Captain Stonewall went to protest, but instead gasped in pain as a bullet penetrated his neck, causing him to spasm slightly and cough up blood. He couldn't say anything more, as he gagged on the bloody gushing in rivers from the wound in his throat.

His pallor paled significantly in a matter of seconds preceding the shot. His eyes were wide, his shock and pain evident. He could only stare ahead for a minute or two before coughed up more blood and collapse, his knees giving out, unable to support his body more. The loss of blood was very severe.

Being smart, Captain Andreas took cover around the corner when the shot was fired, but peered out long enough to see his ally fall because of German fire. He wanted to dart out to grab the dog tags from his fallen colleague, but he had second thoughts on that, as he watched Lt. Van Eyke saunter over, wielding nothing more than a pistol.

He didn't move from his position, he merely observed as the lieutenant nudged the other captain with the toe of his boot. When an anguished moan was erected from Captain Stonewall, indicating the man, though severely injured, was still clinging to life with all he had. He knew his colleague would have a chance for survival, if Lt. Van Eyke had turned the gun downward and fired, sending a bullet straight through the British captain's head.

The shot had a backlash on Lt. Van Eyke. When he fired the shot, he was standing over the fallen British officer, and the force of the bullet caused blood to splatter on the lieutenant, so, when he stepped away, in the light, the fresh blood covering him was highlighted, especially the droplets that slide down his face slowly.

He didn't even bother to wipe it away, as he walked around the dead body on the ground in search of something… In search of that one all so familiar chi, which he knew belonged to Nakago, better now known as Captain JC Andreas.

'He's here, I can feel him. He's probably just in front or behind me. I cannot proceed with too much confidence; it'll cost me my life if I do. I should be weary of every little sound, for it could mean the end of my life. I can't trust him or anyone else right now, not even my own men.' Lt. Van Eyke thought as he made each step with utmost prudence.

He stopped in mid-stride, detecting a chi ahead of him.

It was just in time too, because it allowed him to jump back gracefully, initiating a skilful back flip, landing on back on his feet silently. Where he had just stood, was now a crater. He knew what had caused that, the chi ball that the American Captain, JC Andreas, had cast in his direction.

So, it would seem the man was definitely not weak by any means. Chances are that the reincarnation of Nakago was much stronger, especially since he had some age to throw behind his skills, primarily because he would have found them at a young age and would have had a chance to develop and allow for them to mature.

'He's going to be tough to defeat…' Lt. Van Eyke rationalised, as he took a step back, not quite realising just how impossible victory against JC Andreas was going to be.

He gasped, suddenly feeling a hand on the back of his neck. He had felt the chi movement, but hadn't been able to react quickly in order to do anything to defend himself instantaneously. He feared moving. He knew that regardless this was Nakago or the reincarnation of; the man was still cold, ruthless, calculating and devoid of emotion.

~ "You've made one too many mistakes. The first of which is, not being drowned at birth."