Where...where do I go? Think, damnit...what would Ky think? Sergeant Rivarez's head pivoted on his shoulders like a well oiled barney chair, spinning freely, looking into the darkness around him, illuminated by the dull red glows of the eyes of the Gears, sparks of clashing swords, and the escaping moon from the deathly wispy fingers of the black clouds.

"Come on! Move to the rendezvous point, now!" he screamed, waving his hand above his head, inhibited by the armor strapped to his body slightly, words stuffing themselves in echoes into his own ears and sporadic breathing bounding from the encasing helmet, keeping silent the sounds of Gears around him. A few soldiers were randomly fighting around him, standing in the center of a small huddle. He reached out, grabbed one quickly, pulling the private back out of the way of a vertical Gear slash, stabbing his own sword into the attacking Gear, falling dead on the blade of the sword, then sliding off. The private looked up terrified through the visor, quaked in drops of vapor from his open mouth breathing in hard from work and fear. He threw the soldier with his hand, who stumbled on one leg, then started a sprint, other slowly following.

He fended off the attacks of the now enemy-less Gears, their adversaries now fleeing, boot steps echoing in the darkness back to Rivarez, each attack glinting off of his blade, as well as a bit of dodging involved. His Spaniard heritage left him with a more slender and agile approach to most things, as was his culture adapted to. His hair, matted underneath his helmet, was shortly cut, a black line of curly hair that only stretched about a centimeter off of his head, if uncurled, was possibly 5 or 6 centimeters long, but was curled so tight and flat, that his hair was very short anyway, with a complacent black stubbly beard also, still growing into his adult frame, about twenty-eight.

Dodging a lumbering Gear, whose footing was lost from a large overhead swipe that clanged off of the ground as Rivarez stepped to the side, he gave a quick jab to another Gear, knocking it back a foot, then turning around and running, a quick slash of his sword to the large monster who was starting to turn from his slow fall forward at his missed slash, the blade retreating as soon as it came from Rivarez, a clean cut across its neck leaving it dead on the ground after a loud thump, crushing a few bodies underneath it into indiscernible pulp. Rivarez grabbed another apathetic soldier from fighting from his entanglement with a Gear, rushing forward, the light trails of the soldiers ahead illuminated by the white coat frills that glowed an eerie silver as it caught the silver of the moon, cupping it into a quicksilver goblet.

The light cast haunting long streaks across the death and decay of Lyon, bodies hanging from sides of buildings, strewn under and between rubble, piles of body in alleys where the Gears would have fed by basic biological supplementation or to be razed, piece by piece, for Justice's purpose of gathering DNA for more Gears, even though he could synthesize his own perfect strands. The sides of the wide street dipped in a little, then jutted straight up to a side walk, slats down to the sewer they had walked through earlier, a pile of bodies flashing to Rivarez' left and then into darkness as he sprinted by, the stagnant pooling blood invading his nostrils, and the slight drip-drip-drip down to the drain echoing in eternity.

But, the Gears weren't far behind, their husky breaths and moist gasps chilling the spines of those about to be overtaken. Rivarez ran harder, now pushing his body to its limit, drips of sweat beading on the tip of his Spaniard nose and dripping onto his chin or onto the visor in front of him, his breath only making a sauna around his head in the encapsulating helmet.

The sides of his view could show other fleeing soldiers, a few running in limping stride from gashes across legs or stab wounds in their abdomens that they fought through, the red blood seeping across the oleic armor and the holy white of the uniforms. The Gears came from behind, running along walls next to them, jumping from small lamp posts, relics of years gone by when they used to be powered before the Crusades, slicing the concrete with their bodies as they flew forward at a wraith like speed, picking off stragglers in the back with a quick stab, the soldier falling dead with a blade through his sternum, or a quick slash in the ribs or neck to end it, a Gear prying its sword out of the side of a dying soldier, gurgling on his own blood that trickled into his throat before being silenced.

The long shadows of the moon draped across the streets languidly, leaving bits and pieces of the silvery light to pervade the cracked and destroyed buildings, through alleys and over deserted lives. Rivarez hung a quick right at the next street, boot slipping on small fragments of glass from a window three stories up where a man was thrown down from a month ago in the initial invasion of Lyon, the body sitting in decay on the off side of the road, but Rivarez was quick to take another step, and resume his full sprint, following the Seikishidan soldiers in front of him.

To him, it was priority. To Rivarez, the Seikishidan was life, nothing else. Commanders, Gears, Commander Gears, it was all ritual, fighting the enemy, saluting, leading attacks, rescue missions, dealing with the U.N., all of it a normal lifestyle. He saw no future change in it, nor did he want it, it was simply that of a soldier. He had his duties, being a high ranking official, but what it came down to was this, on the run from Gears ready to die at any second, fighting for your life...that's why he was part of the Seikishidan.

His following breath fogged up the visor in front of him, the scared choked breath from his unsure foot on the glass shards to the running pace again. He reached up, threw off the helmet, exposing his black, short hair to the cool night, light winds whispering rumors and lies about victory or defeat to the soldiers. He heard it clang behind him as it dropped to the ground, bouncing on the cement, then a distinctive crack as it was trampled over by Gears behind. The enemy was concealed in darkness, seen only in small snippets when the light showed them between their nocturnal chase, the slats of silver giving an evil glare to the swarming mass of Gears, of biological, thoughtless, slaves, all acting as one under unity, rushing and killing.

He saw a slight flash of something to the side of him, the brief moment in the light between towering buildings like the fingers of Lucifer, cutting off the light to the humans, some figure. He raised his sword to attack to his left, the outline of the figure visible in the darkness. A few more steps and another building past, a shot of silver from the moon, and he quickly reprimanded his sword, running faster. Another soldier was there, next to him, another sergeant, who had also discarded his helmet (as most soldiers did after a while in that armor).

Jaygus crept his legs up the pavement harder, each long stride of his awkwardly aging frame sending a slight jolt of pain up his left side, but he kept running, neck and neck with the so called Rivarez who had come to meet him and Ky on their return from Geneva. Personally, he had no admiration of the ma, a modest soldiers friendship. Dating back to when nations used forces against others, there's been a thing called soldier's friendship. Even if the soldier next to you was a man of color, and you hated that, or he was smarter than you, or anything, there was a mutual friendship. You put that shit behind you, you left your prejudices and worries at home, because on the battlefield, that man you hate, well, he's still on your side, so remember that. Stemming from that usually comes people that, while sharing an unwritten law, become close, even those of enemies when not on the battlefield, it's something like that each of your lives is in each other's hands, and coming back from a day of bloodshed, you still have it...meaning that the soldier next to you made sure you did, and vice versa. It's kind of amazing how it works out, how people can live in such conditions, such ways...to the point of eternal hatred, but when something like war comes, unifies them, they retain that hatred, but it becomes secondary to the point at hand. No matter what rank, what division, base, anything, on the battlefield, a private and even the Commander of the Seikishidan can share the same values, the same friendship while fighting Gears, since they're both human...that is the soldier's friendship.

Through the sweat that Jaygus brushed off with his free hand, wounds bandaged and far away, he continued his pace. I've seen too much...lived through too much, no wounds, nothing will hurt me too much...not in God's embrace. The blood turns to scars, and scars don't hurt. It shouldn't hurt now, because it would only serve to make me more vulnerable and have me wear the eternal scar of death...no, not in God's embrace, not shall my wounds from previous and now afflict me, not after the Krieg, not after what he did to me and my family, not after any of it, nothing can stop me short of God's hand. Come on, Jaygus, pick it up, move!

"Ahead!" Rivarez choked out between open mouthed gasps for air his tongue dry in his mouth, bits of sweat dripping from his ears and accentuated Spanish features, such as jutting cheek bones and a long nose, as well as more prominent, chiseled eyebrows. Jaygus only looked ahead, the falling rays of the moon lighting a small cul-de-sac, bits of white uniforms filing in from another two connecting streets, the cul-de-sac like a teardrop on an apex of a frame. The Gears swarmed in from the other sides too, falling over the edge of their buildings, engulfing one soldier never to be seen except in scraps again, as well as a secondary group mixing from another road in, the white uniforms mixed with black armor condensing into a lightly packed mess of soldiers, the third portion coming in from behind.

Small shots of light, ranging from dull oranges to vibrant blues lit through the rows of soldiers and Gears fighting in front of the sprinting third group of soldiers. The light ran underneath their feet, between their heads, the source or why not exactly shone, but obvious as to what it was, the fading and flashing lights being brought in and taken out of the world as quick as they came, giving texture and definition to the textureless and lifeless evils that plagued man-kind for a hundred years.

"God be with us!" Jaygus screamed, merging into the static group of Gears standing between him and the rest of the Seikishidan, the few soldiers left in the platoon underneath Rivarez's lead plowing through the perimeter of the enemy, the Gears not knowing about the attack from behind, few being flayed, and the soldiers bursting through to their comrades.

They stumbled through, collecting themselves as their enemy waited, looking at them. The flock following Rivarez merged with the other two, the mass now like a black pool o death, slowly fanning out, small dots of red lining the darkened living puddle of Gears, all acting as one, following commands and orders perfectly, moving in mechanical unison. The Seikishidan bunched together slightly, stepping back into the cul-de-sac as the Gears slowly stepped around.

Tension ran high as the brief time they had to rest, watching the Gears try to corner them in the cul-de-sac, slowly moving outward to each edge, making a semi-circle that faced entirely inward on the humans. They were covered in the shade of a building, their steps seeming to move inwaverably from the shade of the ruined cul-de-sac and its neighbors, the humans put in the gray light, watching to see if a foot of darkness dare step in the metallic blue light.

"Glad you boys could join the party, just a wee bit late, bitches" Sol chuckled, standing slightly crouched, his sword in one hand, tip still touching the ground as usual, but in more of a running and action stance than his usual lackadaisical stance.

"Shut up" Ky spat back venomously, pushing through the rows of soldiers to the front. He wiped the sweat from his bangs, and bangs from his eyes, surveying the Gars surrounding them with a thirty-foot buffer. He breathed shallowly while looking, seeing the Gears receiving new orders, eyes rolling in their heads and thinking, all moving as one as they enclosed the cul-de-sac and slowly starting inwardly advancing. Low menacing growls and yelps of excitement found their way to the ears of the frightened, the Gears instinctively using their animalistic traits by order or not, not helping morale or feeling to the Seikishidan soldiers.

"This is it! This is Lyon! We die here or we kill them all and we live, we take back Lyon! And after Lyon, we take back our world!" Ky shouted, spitting after his words, his sword's power dancing along the ground in azure ballets, the electricity slicking the tar and cement, small pebbles and rubble, running along it, through the cracks, up and down bodies, leaving smoldering small trails where the bolt was, even the sword feeling anticipation. The soldiers made a solidifying hurrah together, though eyes never leaving the Gears in front of them, slowly emerging from shadow into the dull light.

"Just fight, boy," Sol said, flicking the end of the butt of the cigarette he had picked up from the street earlier. "And, I need another cig before I really get angry" he said to a muffled chuckle of his own, a deep voice giving a hint of a double edge maliciousness in it, eyes finding the Gears in front of him, picking out one to kill first, thinking about what he'd do, how'd he do it, arrogant and cocky, not thinking about maybe he'd get hit, maybe he could get killed, but no, not to Sol Badguy, not to this bounty hunter. "Now, let's get this done" he said, nodding to Ky in a slight mocking style, that he looked him in the eyes, and that he was challenging his authority. Though, going back to a soldier's friendship, Ky didn't care too much, it wasn't important enough now, the Gears were. They both took their steps forward, weapons in hand, the other soldiers behind them following in place, screaming battle cries and prayers with each step and slash. The Gears picked up pace also, all forming into a run from their methodical walk, the soldiers spreading out to the semi circle evenly, meeting in a ferocious clang of steel, screaming of the dying and dead, splats of blood, and the cry of God in vain.

"What time do you think it is?" Bianca asked slowly, more like a whisper, but Quint heard it.

"Maybe two" he whispered back, not having to talk much since she was very close to him, leaning on him, his right hand wrapped around her, both looking out upon Troy.

"Think we should head in?"

"...No. There's something nice about this night...I don't want it to end."

"...Me neither." She said slowly, hesitantly, as if her previous question of asking to leave was a direct insult.

"In plus...that moon, something is wrong...I know it."

"About the stupid moon again," she said smiling, looking up at him, her hand reaching up to his face. Her hand slowly caressed his face, cupping it and running up and down it, a bit rough from not shaving and covered by his longer than usual hair. "So, what's up with the moon, huh?"

"Saw that same moon in Tibet, I told you that. You know about Tibet?"

"Only what news we get here in Troy, which ain't much." She used her hand to slowly wrap around the back of his head from its holding position, then she brought his face to hers, looking at his eyes through his mess of hair, seeing them clear as day. "Tell me," she whispered through her soft lips, each whisper lulling with a scent of her own lips, floating to Darton not but inches from her.

"Sure is a story night with you," he whispered back, smiling slightly.

"Well, I need something to do with a room mate, eh?" She smiled mischievously, an obvious double meaning to the connotation, but her expression going back to her question about Tibet without saying it.

"Well...about a year ago, Kliff had just got a U.N. report. Namely, of where Justice was. This was after the De La Morte attack, so a lot of troops were stationed in Asia anyway, after the fun incident in Mongolia, which I also participated in. And, this was also right before good ol' boy got his job as Commander."

"You mean Kiske" she said with a marked fervor.

"Yeah, Kiske" he said with a slight disdain, thinking back to the ledge on Floor F. "Anyway...the operation launched a full scale attack of all troops to where the U.N. had found Justice to be hiding. Really, he wasn't hiding, he was just kind of there, since what the hell is the reason for hiding in Tibet? Anyway, we made good time, but trashed one of the MTs in the process, and we went as far uphill as we could go with the trucks before we headed it on foot. We went up Everest..."

"Makes sense now, that mission had high casualties, despite being a success," she said, matter of factly.

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe it...it was exactly that." You may be saying, how Mount Everest? Well, it's actually kind of simple, really. From history books I have studied, from my friend, the Italian Library, destroyed and littered with books for me to peruse while it suffers the effects of time, Mount Everest was only climbed by a few people initially, and technology came around, helped them out, but still, not easy. Highest peak, hardly any air, yadda yadda, right? Remember what I said happened in 2099? Last supreme offensive of the modern world. Humans used all of their technology, mainly the former United States, pinpointed the Gear base, and launched all of their missiles, troops, tanks, everything there. Nothing was there, Justice had fooled all of them, using decoy troops and the like, not to mention having control over their technology, since how adaptively built he was. Then, the United States was slaughtered out of existence, and the war devolved to sword and tooth. Anyway, on that day...so many bombs, so many lives lost, all of it had a type of negative effect on the world, such as changed weather climates. Weather patterns changed, some tropical places became ice caps, other places had more different changes, but for the most part, it was kind of a minor change, but still noticeable. Most places in the world remained unaffected by the launching of all of those nuclear warheads, except for the ice caps, and tropical regions, both suffering huge differences in temperature, as well as bits of the world (and this is rumor) in the Philippines area sinking down into the southern ice caps. Just kind of an interesting look at how the world was. Back to point, Everest is much more habitable now, well, it's not easy by any measure, but it could be traversed by troops.

"Basically, Kliff led five or six thousand of us up those slopes, we set up a temp base half way up to transport more in by way of MT, and when we had significant force, we headed up the mountain, in nothing much more than our normal garbs. It was cold; some died of frostbite pretty soon, and some just kept going, body heat keeping them warm, and determination. Not much snow, at all, on Everest, really rocky, but ice flows on those winds like you wouldn't believe" he said, running his finger along Bianca's cheek as if his finger were ice itself, a small smile elicited by her.

"There are rumors what happened, since I don't know the truth. There were no Gears on the way up, I mean, you don't really need Gears if you're based on Everest...but still, it didn't seem right. As we got to the very top, Kliff took initiative, and ran ahead, leaving all of us behind. Then, the Gears came, from behind rocks, under cliffs, like they popped out of the ground, and they attacked. They had ice on their bodies, they had been sitting in wait a while, but they were Gears, didn't matter. We suffered heavy casualties by the surprise attack, and the weather didn't help much either. We finally mopped the rest of them up, and we see Kliff approach us again, burn holes and bruises all over him. And, something I'll never forget is he came down with his eyes scanning the ground in front of his feet, kind of like he was unsure of what to do, then when he reached the surviving amount of soldiers, leveling off at about 200 of the 6000, he saw the body piles we were stacking and putting in pyres. And, there was his son, Tesu Undersn."

"...Kliff had a son?" Bianca asked, sitting up slightly, not knowing the truth.

"Yeah, it's kind of a secret. Anyway, his son, rumor has it, was on his first mission and all, wanted to be there, and was killed. Kliff left the body, keeping composure, heading back to basin, and then to Paris. Never said nothing about it after that, but when he saw the body, I could see his own body break, his soul shatter, he wanted to cry, shed at least one single tear for the fallen, but he couldn't, only turned, and walked to the MTs and basin about ten miles down hill, no soldier following him."

"Far as U.N. said, it was a success, Justice was driven from Tibet, and the casualties justified, which is complete bullshit. We didn't launch another big op for a while, keeping our keeps on land and keeping Gears in check. U.N. didn't tell us missions, we didn't report to U.N., both sides were bitter. Then, four or fie months ago, Kliff steps down all of a sudden, appointing Kiske, and we know what happened from there."

"...Wow." She said with a stupor. "You know...I always spend a lot of time around the Seikishidan, being a fake A.A. and all, and these stories, the soldiers...I never got it. I always would have done my job, gotten things to sell, and left, dead bodies and Gears alike, not much to me...but when these stories, people with emotions are brought to the front of the fights, really makes me wonder...like sometimes, how can Troy sit here and do nothing?" Quint laughed a little, his own hand rubbing her face playfully now, bringing her green eyes to his brown ones.

"Don't you try and change the world on me, I like it how it is right now, Seikishidan there, Troy here." He said with a slightly playful air. She smiled at him, him smiling back, then looking out to that moon again. "I saw that moon when I ran up the slopes of Everest, killing those Gears, it was the only light we had. Clouds covering it like it was trying to snare it, but moon breaking free in an otherwise cloudless black night...that moon doesn't show for nothing."

"It's just the moon," she groaned.

"Come on, you can't say you're not superstitious sometimes...but, that moon, there's something happening, something big. Seikishidan attack, Gear attack, something, but a lot of death...lot of it. And, for once, that moon rises on me not in uniform, not fighting with them."

"I may not be superstitious, but I'll be thankful for that. You're now here with me, not there fighting."

"And it's where I prefer it." He leaned down, her free hand spreading his long brown hair from in front of his face to meet her lips, both kissing for a moment, slightly. She was soft, very woman like, a touch of forcefulness in her forwardness at him with her lips, but it didn't matter to Darton, who found pure solace in having someone there. She leaned back, smiling, looking at him before turning back to the night sky of Troy in front of them, leaning in his embrace, her head on his shoulder.

"Speaking of being where you prefer it...we got business tomorrow."

"...Business?" he asked cautiously, eyes stuck on the moon.

"Yeah, gotta get you registered and shit. Troy loves to know everything, even about the lower city scum. And, that's where ‘you prefer it'" she said mockingly "so, we've got to do it. It's easy, and I think it's great to see how Troy works. We'll do it tomorrow morning."

"Fine, whatever...tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, afternoon day after that, forever away...I don't care, just sit here with me, Bianca. Be here with me" he said, tightening his grip slightly on her. She leaned into him more, sighing.

"I can do that, Mr. Seikishidan" she joked, eyes surveying out across Troy, and the moon, stuck between two towering buildings, shining through their vertical challenge.

Zeronova's Notes:
And now we have two things. The beginning of the Krieg unearthing(which is a very heavy Jaygus part, and I am working closely with him to make sure it works), and Tibet (something else we are both working on closely). A lot of ideas stem from both of our ideas (Samuraiter and I) and collaboration, though we have entirely different stories, and we each author ours, but to fit with each other's, you know? Anyway, more Lyon next week, probably the finale, and we get more Darton/Bianca here, not to mention we get to see how Troy works as a government and how people live in such a place (one of my weaknesses is fluid detail in life (but I've tried to infuse a lot of it to work on it), everyday life and government, how it just works, even in a fantasy world, because it has to have a way it works, you know?)
-