Disclaimer: I do not own Code Lyoko. It is the property of Moonscoop/Antefilms. Please do not sue me.

"INTO THE EYE OF THE STORM"

Chapter 1: Just Another Christmas

Point of View: Ulrich

I throw on a thick coat over my green shirt. The times may have changed a lot, but I have not. As I glance at my computer desk I see a photograph - it is an old picture of me from junior high, a picture of me and my friends, Odd, Jeremie, and Yumi. Jeremie and I were sitting on the bench in the school courtyard, Yumi had her arms around us, and Odd was sitting on the ground with Kiwi. It certainly has been a long time, hasn't it?

With Aelita materialized and XANA deactivated, we had been able to live normal lives, that is, until we graduated from high school and went off on our own ways. Jeremie and Aelita went off to some technology school, eventually ending up at the Ecole Polytechnique. Yumi, being the good student she always was, attended the Sorbonne. Odd got an apprenticeship and is now in business. And myself, I went back to Germany to attend university, leaving my friends, my memories, and Yumi back in France. Yumi and I had been together for much of high school, but after I got rejected from the Sorbonne, my parents pressured me to attend a university in Germany. When I couldn't find a suitable alternative in France, Yumi and I had to accept that fact that we weren't going to see each other much anymore. We tried to stay in touch, and we would get together during our vacations from school, but that all changed after I graduated and found a job. With my 'irregular' work hours, we communicated mostly through letters, and a few months ago, I stopped hearing from her. I came to the conclusion that she had found someone else to be with, and that she did not want to hurt my feelings too much by dumping me outright. At any rate, I have not had another girlfriend since Yumi, and I guess I'm going to need to get over my blind loyalty to her someday. Wherever she is, I just hope she's happy...

Heaving a deep sigh, I turn to the window. It is almost Christmas time. Outside my window, the baroque architecture of Munich stands illuminated by the street lamps, and light snow wafts through the air, covering the ground as the sky grows dark. I finish buttoning up my coat, and after slipping on a pair of white sneakers and grabbing my keys, I leave my apartment for the parking garage, where my black Audi A6 sits. My mind eases with the familiar sound of the door unlocking, and the steady rhythm of the engine starting. Trying to force my memories from my mind, I pull out of my apartment complex.

It is around eight o'clock p.m. by the time I get to work. I pull up to an imposing gate - it is engraved with the image of a tall, dignified eagle, and next to it is a sign with a single line of writing: Bundesnachrichtendienst. To all my friends outside of work, I work for Deutsche Bank, and at work, well, I am an officer in the German intelligence agency. The concrete gate opens, and I pull into the compound. Inside, the guard on duty doffs his cap in acknowledgment as I park my car and get out. The chilly air greets me, and after a short walk, I enter my building, the Operations Bureau...

The interior of the building is clean and modern-looking. The black marble floor, the white walls, and the lofty ceiling emanate an imposing air.

"Good evening, Ulrich," greets the guard at the front desk. His voice echoes through the vast expanses of the lobby. "Something recently came in the mail for you."

"Is that so, Otto? Business or personal?" My interest was piqued.

"From the look of it, I would have to say...personal."

I raise my eyebrows. Personal mail? I haven't gotten something like that in months.

I reach over the counter and am handed an envelope addressed in graceful handwriting. With my curiosity growing by the second, I turn and walk briskly down the hall. "I'll talk to you later, Otto!" I yell.

"Yeah, be sure to let me know who the lucky lady is!" he yells back.

I bring my arm up to my face, making a futile effort to hide the blushing that followed. After walking down a maze of identical white hallways, I reach my office, a spacious room appropriate for a business executive. Swiping my keycard in front of the security lock, I push the door open and make for the sofa in my office. I break the envelope's seal with a single deft movement, holding my breath in anticipation. A letter falls out.

---

Dear Ulrich,

I hope this letter finds you well, but I guess I do not really have any way of knowing for sure, since you never respond to anything I write anymore. I got this address from Odd, who tells me you've just graduated from university, and that you're now doing quite well for yourself. I have graduated too, but it seems like a French university degree is worthless these days, and I am still looking for a job. I just thought, as a friend, I would let you know how I was doing, since apparently your feelings for me have changed since we started university. Anyway, I am coming to Munich for Christmas this year, and I was wondering if you might be interested in getting together for dinner or something. My mobile number is 33-655-255-958. If you do not have the time, I will understand - you must be very busy with everything going on in your life right now.

Yours truly,

Yumi

---

I just sit silently on the sofa, stunned, with nothing penetrating the atmosphere but my own breathing. The caustic undertones of Yumi's letter make me feel like my heart is going to stop beating. Yumi writing to me 'as a friend'? What on earth is going on? She means so much to me! I thought I was more than just 'a friend'! Is she breaking up with me? I sink into the sofa, feeling more and more worthless. Wait a second! She was the one who stopped writing to me months ago! Why is she now acting like she had been trying to keep our relationship together all along? Why is she acting like I am the one who ignored her? As my mind pieces the situation together, I start to think that for some reason, her letters stopped getting through to me, and so I had nothing to respond to! Damn it! Now Yumi thinks I am some sort of jerk and probably wants to break up with me for real! I feel like I am going to break down in tears, but I resist. Regaining some sense of consciousness, I flip the envelope around, and receive another surprise. This letter was postmarked a month ago! What could possibly have taken it so long to get here? With the holidays already in full swing, Yumi must already be in Munich! My mind races, and I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. My life sucks...

All of a sudden, the phone on my desk starts to ring. After it rings a few times, I come to my senses and leap for it. "Hello, Stern speaking."

"I knew you were in your office. You can't fool me, you little fox," the secretary quipped.

"What is it, Angela?" I reply, unfazed.

"The boss went out this afternoon, and told me to let you know that he needs to meet you at the bar by 8:30 tonight."

"What bar?" I ask, unconciously.

"The one you fellas always use, obviously. Is something wrong, Ulrich?" her tone suddenly becomes one of concern.

"No, everything's fine. I'm gonna to have to leave now, if I want to make it in time."

"Yeah, probably. Bye." she hangs up.

half an hour later

I walk through the streets of Munich, concentrating on the cheerful holiday decorations around me and desperately trying to blink back the tears that threaten to fall from my eyes. If there's one thing in the world I cannot stand doing, it is crying. Walking down a narrow street in the heart of Munich, I come to the bar, and I make a last-ditch effort to regain my composure as I walk through the entrance.

Helmuth, my boss, is sitting by himself at a small table by the wall, staring at the bottle of beer in his hands. Being the stereotypical German, he has an angular face, stolid complexion, and unfeeling eyes. The secretary always says that Helmuth's much more agreeable than I am, since I sulk and grouch so much (I disagree, but that's what she thinks). Plus, he is quite the scholar - he just graduated near the top of his class from the University of Munich. As for me, I just barely passed my exams. And even though we are both 22, he has also done better on the job, having been promoted to an operational chief while I soldier on as a field agent. His dark brown hair is messier than usual, looking as though he had been clawing at it recently. Not a good sign. I seat myself across from him.

"Ulrich, come with me. Let's take a walk," Helmuth says quietly. We get up and he pays the bill at the counter, looking around the bar casually, as if we were being watched. His suspicions satisfied, we stroll out of the bar and down the sidewalk, into the wintry air of Munich. "I was going to wait for you to come into the office to speak to you about this, but something came up, so I called you out here. Listen, Ulrich, we just got a new assignment. Two days ago, French intelligence came across an unidentified piece of a technology. It was found by some demolition workers in the basement of an old Renault factory located on a small island on the Seine..."

What? They found the factory? At least Jeremie took the time to destroy the activation mechanism for the supercalculator after we switched it off. I hope the French were not stupid enough to try and turn it back on. The return of XANA - that would be a disaster. I turn my attention back to Helmuth's impromptu briefing...

"Anyway, French intelligence started moving pieces of this supercomputer back to their technical headquarters in Paris, but one of their convoys, containing what I understand to be vital central processing units, never made it. Their headquarters lost contact with the agents driving the cars shortly after they had left the location of the factory, and within an hour, the shot-up remains of the four cars and their occupants had been discovered, but the reinforced containers holding the samples of the mystery hardware had disappeared." He brought his right hand up to his forehead, as if in frustration.

Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Our sources tell us that the missing hardware is now in the hands of a Russian crime syndicate with motives still unknown. We have reason to believe that within the next week, the stolen pieces of this supercomputer will be transported by road through Germany on its way back to Russia. Our goal, therefore, will be to seize this equipment during the time span when it will be within our borders. It shouldn't be too difficult; we just have to find out where it will be and when, and then we can send in the federal police to pick it up. After that, we can bring it back to our place, where we can get what we need from this supercomputer before giving it back to the French. The big boss should be pleased - this time we will have gone above and beyond his expectations. The French agents must have been sleeping on the job to lose something they keep saying is so important, and we might as well help ourselves before helping them, anyway," he scoffed. "Nothing to worry..."

"Help! Somebody help!...mmph..." Desperate screams interrupt Helmuth's muttering, and after glancing at each other, we both start to sprint in the direction of the shouting. We come to a dimly-lit alley, bordered by ancient and decrepit tenements. Five individuals, engaged in a vicious struggle, were the only people around. Noticing our arrival, the three assailants throw their victims to the ground and charge towards us. One of them throws a punch at me, and I dodge it, retaliating with a swift right hook to his face. I follow up by burying my left fist in his gut, and the guy falls to the ground, wheezing haplessly. Just as I catch my breath, the second assailant swings a knife at me, and it just barely misses. I grab his arm and twist it, causing the man to scream in pain. I seize the knife from his weakened grip and give him a swift kick, propelling him into the street. I look over at Helmuth - he's standing there, panting (he's not really good at close-in fistfights), but he has managed to dispatch the third assailant, who is stumbling across the road alongside his two compatriots, all of them glaring back at us and bent over in pain.

Our attention is diverted to the two victims, who have propped themselves up against the wall in the shadows of the alley. I walk towards them cautiously, Helmuth following behind me. Crouching next to one of them, I venture a question. "Are you all right?"

There is a pause. A pause that is suddenly broken by a strikingly familiar voice.

"Ulrich, is...is that you?"

Ah, a cliffhanger. Anyone care to take a guess who the 'strikingly familiar voice' belongs to?

I hope you like the story so far. It's the first piece of fiction I've ever written in my life! Please leave a review, and feel free to let me know of any comments or suggestions you might have!