"Currently, the U.N. cannot give truthful representation here to record these briefings—" Gestahl started.
"Tribunals." Ky said with a smug grin, relating back to last time.
"…Recordings" Gestahl continued, with a rememberance of last, a dull smirk of his own, leaning back in his own small chair. "So, I am under district mandate to get your recordings, as well as the other soldiers, and relay to you the new information concerning the wartime efforts and plans for Lyon."
They both were sitting in chairs like each other, small white ones, the dry blood wiped off and bodies removed, a table set up between them, from a small shop that had once stood. Pieces of the wall that was the front of the store littered the ground, a table propped from the wreckage between them, soldiers hustling by, as well as a few A.A.'s, hands full of items, and the common U.N. worker, recording and writing things down on a pad cradled in their arms.
The shop looked to be a small hub of social activity, before the invasion, a coffee house or something, a wrecked aluminum tube set up, for heating and condensing water vapor, then boiling the coffee beans, all of it, slashed through and lying in disrepair behind the counter. Looked like a somewhat expensive, and unique, as well as antiquated piece of coffee brewing Black Tech.
"I could use a cup of that" Kiske said, nodding to the machine, Gestahl looking back, then affirming the nod.
"Good coffee is hard to come by nowadays. Sometimes, you have to use Old World technology to get the job done."
"Ironic, hearing that from a U.N. operative." Ky said with mild disdain, a sense of humor in his words also though.
"If anything has been seen thus far" Gestahl said, leaning forward slightly, his impeccable U.N. suit ruffling as he did, one arm put on the table for leverage, leaning to whisper "it is that I am far from an average U.N. operative."
"Well, I sensed that about you, since you knew Kliff…" Ky commented, absent mindedly, feeling a bit more at ease, than takling to a normal U.N. bastard.
"He and I go way back…to 2099, we met in Oslo as kids. Been acquaintances since then."
"The final offensive? Kliff didn't talk about his past much though."
"Then it seems that we share that trait as well, but he was always the more reserved of the two of us." Gestahl muttered, adjusting his sitting position in the old chair, folding a leg over another, watching a soldier outside bustle by, hands full of swords belonging to dead soldiers, a light click-clank echoing as he did. The sun was high morning, approaching noon, slightly shading into the destroyed café where the two higher-ups sat. As he did shift his position, Ky noticed a glint on Gestahl's right side, just under the end of the top piece of the suit, now noticing it for the fifth or sixth time…he couldn't remember.
"What is that?" he said coldly and affirmatively. Gestahl looked at where Ky was nodding, then chuckled, reaching underneath, a click of a lock, then pulling it out and setting it on the table.
"A little hobby of mine." He said, the heavy thud on the table as it hit, then slid across to Ky.
"…Not much like a U.N. operative at all." Ky said, smirking back up, taking the item in his hands. He looked it over, down the slide, over the barrel, rubbing it with his fingers in mild disbelief, though keeping a strict moral about his behavior to be professional, though his childish side took priority at seeing and holding something so odd and valued…a gun.
"Family heirloom, passed down. I make the bullets myself, just collect scrap, smelt it, use it. Can't be useful in battle, but in a situation when you never know if you have a second to live or die…it works." Gestahl said, seeing Ky grab the slide, a slight glint of the sun off of its flat black, then it racking forward with a thunderous slam, the bullet pushed into barrel from the clip. Ky let it rest in his hands, holding it with admiration before handing it back, Gestahl slipping it back under his shirt from whence it came. "Luger, 1938." He said once more before acting like it never existed.
"You know they'd confiscate it and you'd never see it again…" Ky trailed off, eluding to the U.N. administration.
"The U.N. has their own agendas…they know about it, they know about a lot, and let it slide. They have methods and ways, Mr. Kiske. There are also a few more of these relics around, and other ones which are more impressive, if one searches. U.N. has rumors ofsome mercenaries and bounty hunters who use them."
"They have time to go view the world and run around and do what they want sometimes. I have to be with my troops, lead a war to victory, I don't have time to find Old World technology and see the depths of the world, I have too much else to get done." Ky said, looking out at the city in front of him as it was tended to be sprinting medics and soldiers, throwing rubble into alleys and grabbing the few bits of salvage they could, yelling off to Bob at what they found with a bit of glee. Gestahl chuckled slightly at Ky's words, brushing a bit of dust and debris off the table top with an idle hand.
"I don't know if I will live to see the day this war ends…when you lead victory to humanity and all is well, but I can tell you something, Mr. Kiske. Once the world is able to continue without the Gears, the Old World will resurface in frightening pace. I don't know how I can tell, maybe it's just being in the U.N…but you will see it, you will be first to witness how the changes and world comes full circle. And, be on guard, for that I am an agent of the U.N., and even I do not trust it. They'll spy on you, you're Ky Kiske, and they will also bring straight to and around you the hidden treasures they have. Old World technology…isn't old. Not to Zepp, not the U.N., just the major world, which will become new once again, then common place, as soon as this war ends." He said slowly and methodically, as if he was speaking to a child about the reason the sun rises and sets, something that he thought was easy, simple, and relatively clear, that took no more thought than comprehension to grasp.
"We'll see" Ky said, leaning back now, looking out to the streets of Lyon being tended to. "What else?" he said, azure eyes snapping back to the old and war hardened frame of Gestahl.
"Ah yes, I almost forgot." He said nonchalantly, referring back. "Well, I have some bad news. It has to do with Jakarta Dome…"
"Out in the Asian provinces?"
"Yes, the Philipines, or what's left of them. Seems that not but a week before the Parisian raid, which you lived through, the Gears had formulated an attack on Jakarta, slaughtering all there. In fact, it is almost frighteningly similar in the fashion that the attack was carried out and how it came around."
"And the U.N. has access to information that no one else has, once again" Ky said, vexed by the normal turn of events, that the impossible information to get, always came by way of the U.N.
So, Jakarta Dome…here goes. Jakarta Dome is the Asian theatre of Seikishidan offensive, as the Parisian H.Q. was the central Seikisihidan H.Q. and the Western European theatre of operations. There is a base that controls most of A-Country's ballistics, as well as what is left of Southern America, though those bases have long become ghost stories, if they still remain a mystery. Communcation kinda sucks.
Jakarta Dome was based out of mainland China or somewhere around there, using their naval superiority, namely boats made of whatever they could find, and sweeping the coasts and islands of Gears. They were in direct contact with the U.N., since only the U.N. can reach that distance with communication, not the Seikishidan, so they were somehow let outside of the Seikishidan sphere of control that Ky held. My information is kind of shady since not even I know much about it.
Also, the actual base was very similar in structure to the Parisian Base…except it was a dome. It was built from Floor1 to Floor 6, but each floor a circular one, smaller than the last, the center held up by a support reaching to the protective dome covering. Though, it had never been finished, thrown into battle too quick to finish it. The Gears attacked by traversing the dome, and swarming in by the sky light of the dome, trapping those on the bottom floors in, massacaring them. Very similar to the Parisian attack, though also different.
Justice's offenses were used to cause a disturbance in the workings of the human world, especially after he was displaced from his base in the Tibetan offensive, he decided to repay the favor. And, the attacks were successes, by his standards. Wiping out two bases, though not killing the prime target, and putting a lot of fear in the ranks…it was a small stepping stone, but an important one.
Jakarta had about six thousand, same with the Parisian, and was where the Mongolian, and later, Tibetan offensive was staged from, the combined forces of the Parisian and Jakartan meeting to attack Tibet, then more than half of the Jakarta soldiers tailing it to Paris, since most soldiers preferred being in base with Undersn (later Kiske), the Commander. Though, Jakarta had its own commander, not officially sanctioned, but they were so far out of the way, no real chain of command could be upheld, and most of its operations, attacks, and decisions, where either U.N. or internal affairs. Just a bit of information.
"So, Jakarta is dust…seems that Justice is pulling out all the stops." Ky muttered, hearing the padded foot steps of a hurrying nurse to soldiers lying in their own blood other places, wounded from battle earlier. I could really use a cup of that coffee…
"Yes…" Gestahl said, reflecting for a moment, before continuing "But, we need to focus now on rebuilding Lyon."
"It just seems kind of weird that Jakarta is gone. I visited there about six or seven months ago...maybe a bit longer, but it was a few months before I was appointed Commander. We launched our offensive against Purgatory from there, we also had the help of some local troops, the Red Force Eight they called themselves." He said, trailing off, remembering names, faces, the mission.
"That was a very rough mission, Kiske. I heard about it from my superior and the document files. But...Purgatory?"
"A nickname we gave to the mountain that Justice was on. The place was as close to Hell as we could find on Earth."
"Fitting...but Lyon is what we need to focus on now." He stopped for a moment, remembering them. "As I said earlier, U.N. has a few plans."
"What?" Ky said, his interest piqued.
"Basically, the U.N. wants this place swept out, and civilians are moving in to colonize it again. There's going to be a continued presence of Seikishidan here until the Parisian base is salvaged and fixed, or a new one built, so make yourself comfortable. The Seikishidan will also aid in the rebuilding, though a counter offensive here would not be out of the question, hence our stay here. Basically, we're setting up camp, and sects of people from Dresden, Berlin, Bordeaux, and the rest, are coming, by way of MTs that the U.N. requested help relocate them here."
"They're pushing colonization here so quickly?" Ky said with a bit of disdain, his fingers drumming the table top in anger.
"Well, they're trying to grow strong roots in a weed's time. Do not worry, they put me in charge, for the most part, and with your command of soldiers here, Lyon will be a strong hold of western Europe once more. Not to mention that you were victorious yesterday, do not forget that."
"Eight hours ago wasn't yesterday." Ky responded with a jaded and low voice.
"You know what I mean. Though, Lyon is to become the next Warsaw, and the U.N. intends it. Just flow with it, and there will be little problems. Also, more soldiers are going to be coming in from Bordeaux and Greenwich, so expect some fresh meat. Lyon will prosper, or the U.N. will have my head." Warsaw has never been destroyed. It's survived...twleve or thirteen assaults, I forget, and has never been taken down. They've suffered massive casualties many times, but they're one of the few to never adda number to their name.
"If it doesn't, the Gears will too, and they'll be a lot more nice to it than the U.N.would." Ky's sarcasm was met to a dry chuckle, at which point Gestahl stood, Ky in suit.
"Well, I'll get to my men, you to yours." Gestahl said with a more amicable atmosphere than previously.
"We're to make Lyon the next Warsaw" Ky quoted with a wry smile, then turned, walking over the bricks lying in disarray around what was the front wall of the café, into the sun and into the bustling soldiers, A.A.'s, and U.N. officers.
"Eventful" Quint muttered, leaning back in his small chair, one hand over the back rest in a leisure fashion, looking over at Bianca who emulated his position with mild amusement. Darton looked over with a small smirk to the barkeep, Zimmerman, who had one cautious eye still on him, despite no Seikishidan clothes on the labelled "'Kishi'", wiping a glass with a dirty cloth in a methodical round-and-round procession, as if he were going to wipe the very years that had stained the cup.
"Well, I told you, that's how it is. Paper work, they get a blood test on you, label you as a citizen, and you're done."
"Was the questioning session necessary?" Darton said, remembering the rude psychological probing they gave him with enough questions to make him lose count, said count lost around 137.
"Of course. Don't want spies." She said while picking up a cup off of the table seperating them, sipping it slowly. Setting it down with a thud, she looked as if she were going to ask another question, but stopped short.
"You wanna know what they asked," Darton said, without her knowing. She coughed a little, attesting it to the hot coffee, then nodded.
"I was practically born and raised here, I don't know those kind of sessions."
"And once again, we see the ever interrogative Bianca."
"Shut up and answer, or I'm leaving you to settle the bill." She said with a smirk, sipping the coffee again, a bit of steam clouding above the rim of the decades old mug, parting on her nose as the brim touched her lips.
"I can put it in your tab" he responded, smiling. "Anyway, they basically asked me my past, my name, why I was here, my ambitions, affiliation with Zepp, the U.N. or Seikishidan."
"And?" she asked, emphasized on the Seikishidan.
"I told them the truth. I was K.I.A., it took them a minute to draw out the papers to confirm I was, and when I was, they were more open about letting me be a citizen, the way I prefer it anyway."
"Well, the Doubting Thomas tells the truth." She said with a smug satisfaction.
"Let's get out of here, I don't like sitting here." He said, setting down an empty mug on the linoleum table, an imprinted cross-thatch of white and red to impersonate a cloth table cover, but failing, miserably, due to pieces chipped off, scratches, and general abuse over time.
"Because of him?" she said, nodding back with her head, but not looking at the old, fat, and grumpy shop keeper, Zimmerman.
"Kind of, and I hate being still, sitting here. I want to go explore Troy as a citizen." He said with a twinge of alluring seduction. So, she finished her cup, paid her respects (and part of her large tab) with Zimmerman, then followed Quint out into the bustling streets. A few minutes later, and not shy on a few jabs and punches from the crowd, they were on the now less populated venues from the central hub of commerce in that section of the city.
"Hey, I got an idea" Bianca said, jumping and turning at the same time to face Darton, energetically enthused. His eyebrows asked the question, her responding quickly. "It's a secret, but follow me. Trust me, you'll love it."
"Most of your secrets end up being kind of bad."
"How could you say that!" she moaned, placing her hands over her chest, and feigning heart ache and hurt, then resuming her smirking stature. "How about this: I promise you'll like it."
"Hmm, sounds like citizen type of duties. I'm in" he said with a bit of a lurking smirk on his face, which would never wipe away in the presence of Bianca. So, she turned, walking forward, Quint trailing a step behind.
"You won't tell, eh?"
"Nope. Gotta wait." He continued to badger her on their walk of the lower city, her answer remaining firm.
So, Bianca continued walking on, Quint trailing slihtly behind, if only by a step. She walked through the streets like a professional, Quint not being able to tell one from another, the down trodden buildings and worn street all the same. It bent and curved,slid into cul-de-sacs, bits of time-worn buildings in rubble with support beams and tension wire latched all through other buildings to hold up the massive towers above. The sun gleamed through in small slats between thesky-scrapers that seemed to stab in through it, dropping its glowing blood onto the streets below in arrows instead of drops.
A few beggars sat on the streets, nursing their knees, cursing in low tones to those who walked by and to whomever they could, talking in somewhat schizophrenic ways, living in heaps of their own belongings around them, like a sanctuary of trash. They looked at Quint with beady eyes of suspicion and doubt as he walked by. You now live here, gotta get used to some things like that…it's how it is. The streets veered off at cross sections, into other shady regions, with slices of light through them, lighting up a few crowded huddles of people around flaming barrels, a few gangs, people walking by with items from market, or heading to, all in their daily routine.
Wires stuck into the street with reinforced girders and were rigged with equal supports above and below the ground, the wire nearly impossible to move or break, holding up scrapers in the sky, lining the outsides of the sidewalks. Gangs or menaces might try to screw around with them, do their thing, but it had been common practice that, although Troy was far from a perfect city, there was a semblence between the lower and upper inhabitants. They both understood their places and enjoyed it how they could, those wires and tethers not being messed with (and in plus, if it fell, who would it kill?). Add ontop that the wires were held to the ground with large steel supports and were probably five inches thick and holding up gigantic buildings, they'd be impossible to cut or break due to the tension.
Though, not to say there were no vagabonds and just generally bad people. As I said before, mercs dealt with them, if they existed. Though, the gloated mass genocide and ability to claim enough lives as Frederick, well, no one really could get that much done, since their best bet would be toppling a scraper, and they have been wired up with so many tethers and reinforced enough times to withstand more than their fair share of pain before crumbling. Sure, every now and then, they needed repair, more supports, etc., but the engineering of the behemoths also used parts of Black Tech, courtesy of Zepp, to ensure Troy's well being.
Black Tech is kind of an Old World technology, called Black Tech for reasons that it has been black listed as evil. The world returned to a more naturistic state, relying on nothing that could turn back upon them, such as computers, or anything sophisticated enough to control itself, even in the most minimal of fashions. Sure, people still used it, and there were a lot of common misconceptions, but it was also rare. As I said before, Zepp's only connection with the ground world was Troy, since Troy had separated itself from the U.N. and Crusades, Zepp saw them in their same position, and had common aspirations. They helped out Troy, and vice versa (though it was hardly an equal relationship). It was not a real friendship by any long shot, since both Zepp's autocratic rule and Troy's isolationist policies would have denied both of them to meet, but it was a rather simple ordeal that they both engaged in, when Zepp decided to float on by, that is.
More streets, alleys, and sparse life went by their walk, solitary footsteps with the echo of bustling life behind them, people on the upper world looking down upon them wth disdain, over the web-like railings linking building to building,the suited and groomed higher class looking down every so often to curse the wicked lower level. Finally, Bianca came to a stop, looking up, drawing Darton's attention as well.
"It's a wall" he said sarcastically and unimpressed.
"You noticed that too, eh?" she said with a malicious smile back at him. She nodded her head, and he followed to a small side. The wall was a sandstone, a light yellowish-orange color, cracked with age, spray paintings and gang symbols across, showing its age and use. The buildings split the small street, lined side by side, metallic girders ripped straight through them to the ground level, bolted in with many supports, no one able to live in the stabbed skeleton of a house, holding up higher buildings. The street abruptly ended at the wall, which had a guard standing next to a large door.
Four long poles extended upward, a basket in the center, and a wire from the top all the way down to the basket-like elevator. It was much like the cargo elevator Quint had rode on in the Seikishidan Head Quarters, the four beams like a guide to the elevator as it was strung upward, the flat platofmr having a bit of a railing around it and the wire in center to hoist it.
The guard stood complacent, a small sword on his hip with a contraption on his other one, looking like a small type of pistol, obviously Zepp influenced, if not by the large and symbollic Z on the extending grip. He looked over at Bianca, shifting his weight, then suddenly spoke.
"What business does a lower city person like you have here at this elevator?"
"Oh shut up" she said to him, contininuing her walk forward. "Don't try and act like you're actually worrying about me using this stupid thing. I do all the time, and you never give me shit, so don't startnow, Rodney." The guard chuckled slowly, stepping aside.
"Well, you never know who are spies or not, since I saw you got a new guy with you."
"Yeah, I just registered" Quint chimed in to the guard. He was dressed in a normal Troy outfit, a large black belt holding up his utensils, with a pair of normal slacks, and a vest covering whatever type of shirt the guard wanted to wear at the time, the vest equally black, a sythetic leather from their friends in the sky. He had a bit of frazzled hair, from having to stand outside all day, the sun takin no mercy on him, accompanied by a heavy sun burn.
"Ah, a new guy. Where'd you come from?"
"The Seikishidan." He said with a smirk. The soldier gave him a glance of defiance and amazement, readying to say something, when Bianca cut him off.
"Come on Darton, let's get going." Darton shrugged, looking at the soldier with a smirk, then followed Bianca, the eyes of the guard trailing him as he walked forward. The small gate opened with a rusty creak as it was pulled to the left and right by a motorized wire, the pad of the elvator touching the ground as the wiresthat moved it vertically groaned to a stop and the dust on the ground settled and plumed outward as it hit. Bianca stepped on, Darton following. The elevator was open-air, like the cargo one in Paris, the four girder beams only there to guide the upward and straight flight of the elevator, a sequence of wires hanging down from some unseen mechanism at the top raising it up, hooked onto the four apexs of the square, becoming taut with force, and slowly lifting the panel, both persons finding a place to sit on it.
Darton kept his eyes plastered on the soldier, who turned completely around to look at Darton as he ascended, that smug satisfactory look on his face, and the soldier's own juxtaposition of confusion to Darton.
As the elevator chugged upward, past the guard, Darton looked over to Bianca, a smirk on his face still.
"Always frickin' smiling. What's a matter with you?"
"I just find it fun." He murmured.
"Even if you're registered…" she said, walking close to him after standing with caution on the moving platform, looking him straight in the eyes with a façade of seriousness, the grin still on Darton like a malevolent infection unrelenting to leave. "Doesn't mean you need to go promoting your past."
"Well, fine." He said, acting angry, turning his head to look out at Troy, the streets slowly falling under his feet as the massive towers became less like needles to space, and more like buildings. She chuckled, her hand reaching up to Darton's chin, pulling him looking back at her slightly. She smiled as he looked down, her finger and thumb holding his chin, then her pulling him down to her. She closed her eyes and kissed him, not so much reciprocation as it was a simple commodity that was rare. She pulled back, smiling again, her lips parting in a slight smile, and Darton's grin remaining eternal while looking at her.
"This is the part where I ask what we do next" he said in a slight whisper, her face close to his. His hand reached up also, her right hand still on his chin, and his hand now brushing part of her chin-length auburn and black hair, with sparse lengths of blonde running through, an amalgamation of all sorts of hair colors, bleached from the sun for light parts here and darker there, but staying mainly in the auburn realm, back behind her ear, revealing her green eyes behind the covering hair. She smiled, and leaned forward again, another kiss on his lips, hers parting his as she leaned more into him, kissing for a solid five seconds before pulling back and looking at him again, with a flushed face that should have been hidden by hair.
She sighed, leaning into him, his arm wrapping around her waist for security, comfort, and balance. His head leaned down over her shoulder, so his cheek touched hers.
"And now what" he said, her looking out on Troy, his eyes glancing from it also.
"I know the guard, Rodney. People use this lift sometimes, it is kind of worthless though, but it's a compromising part of the upper world bitches. This lift takes supplies to the outer rim of the ciy, along the walls. The walls then have lengths and ways up to them" she said, nodding at the buildings. "And they fear we'll add one plus one, use this to get on the outer rim, then up to the upper city."
"And are we?"
"…No, there's too much security. Just to the outer rim, I got something planned anyway."
The parts of Troy were called certain things by habit and tradition. The ground floor and first two or three stories of most buildings were considered part of the lower city, as outlined so much in this story. The upper city, the buildings built on ruins of others, the newer materials and held up by tension wires and spider-web beams and walkway between each of the buildings, is the upper city. On the walls of Troy, there runs a massive network of walkways and ramps, elevators and stairways, considered the outer rim. It sits on top of the large walls and has a little bit of its own vegetation and life on that small area, but it's mainly a point of passage from top-to-bottom. Just a bit of geography.
The elevator rode up its four metallic guiding rails, the tension wire hooked to a small generator that pulled on the far side of the platform, as well as the wire at top being pulled by an equal generator, each grabbing and wrapping the four meshed wires hanging loosely from each vertex of the square platform, then meeting and bolted together. It worked double fast than just a one way generator that would pull itself up the wire, or pulling the wire up with the pad attached, though they were both slow anyway, so their mixed speeds was still sloth-like, but bearable. Echoes of the wandering wire, hitting the rails and bounding off, as well as the faint distant sounds of people coming into clarity bustling on the upper rim, faces peering off the edge of the railing before resuming into the continuous flow and surge of the people there.
The pad came to a stop at the elevator station at the top, a crane with the wire running through hoop and down the length to a generator bolted to the outer rim, a guard in the same uniform as Rodney sitting in the crane, a small black book on his lap, hands on the levers, a small little light on the main panel that would flash when the bottom guard sent a signal up to turn it on or turn it off, depending on descent or ascent. One guard was posted at duty at the opening of the elevator; henodded at the guard in the crane, who made sure Quint and Bianca got off, shot a thumbs up at the other one, who flipped a lever, and it started its creaky way back down.The guard in the crane then took his hand off the lever,picked up the old Bible and read some more lazily.
Bianca stepped off, her hand finding Darton's, looking back at him with reassurance, before plunging into the massive catwalk. Darton was pulled forward, not able to see her, his grip on her hand firming, as so he wouldn't lose her, his free hand trying to fend off the people who were equally trying to brush him aside.
On the outer rim, there was a mass of different types of people. Merchants from the lower city coming up to the outer rim to search for sales from the upper city folk traveling down, upper city people coming down to find deals or something not available, the soldiers who dared not go into the lower city, who patrolled the outer rim, and more. The outer rim though was mainly one big walkway that went the lengths of the entire of Troy's walls, so that one could look out on the infinite plains, Alps in the distance, and the Mediterranean Sea off to the wary eyes. The soldiers kept pace around to make sure the lower city didn't flood into the upper city, and to watch for attack. It also afforded them time to do their own business, such as read, or buy merchandise. The job was relatively boring, since very few of the lower city people could even get to the outer rim, and if they did, they usually weren't the trouble making type.
Those from the upper city who weren't too pretentious to come to the outer rim made a point they were upper city residents, starched suits and combed hair, as well as briefcases in hand or priority in their movements and eyes. But, they were also more competent than the true upper city residents, by seeing the outer rim as prosperous, to someone who would go to it, as well as not feeling too superior to the people on it. They were better people than the true upper city folk, but they were still assholes, just not the 100 type.
The outer rim itself though wasn't much more than a walkway, a very wide one with a few squatters and venders, elevators and walkways, leading down the side of the walls of Troy or up to the sky scrapers. No residency could be taken on the outer rim, but it was a way for those in the upper city to get some things they needed, fraternize, or just be for the hell of it. Also, at certain points in the day, it was better to go to the outer rim, walk around to the next walkway to the upper city, and take that, and be more punctual than go by route of upper city only, having to take a myriad of different walkways, passing through many different buildings to find the right one of business.
Quint pushed through the people, feeling Bianca's hand squeeze tighter on his as she progressed, neither wanting to lose each other in the crowd. They worked their way through the forty foot wide walkway on the top of the walls of Troy, coming to the very edge, an old and rusted metallic railing holding them from falling off. It was a simple metal railway, a metal stud to the ground every five meters, with a secondary horizontal lane parallel to the one resting at waist height. Bianca's right hand found its way onto the old metal, her left hand touching Quint's right to the metal as he emerged from the river of people, as if Charon had dropped him midway his courting across for half penance upon death.
He gasped as he reached the railing, his shoulder bumped into a few times by the crowd, smiling faintly to Bianca, whose thumb rubbed across his own hand, deep in hers. His pain subsided to his emotions in following her thruogh the crowd.
"This is what I wanted to show you" she said, nodding her head out beyond the railing. Quint stepped closer to her, then looked out.
A setting sun met his eyes, rays golden and thrown out by the retreating Helios before night came to claim stake over the sky, the night finding its way in icy fingers through the rays, streaks of purple mixing with the wirey linesof yellow and red, painted across the few clouds in the sky with an ephemeral glow. The plains reflected the sky with a haziness, showing a dull kind of gauze over the beautiful sight, grass giving a green haze to the horizon as much as the blinding sun did as well. In the far distance, the Mediterranean Sea greeted their vision with sparkles of a far off blue, throwing its colored hand into the game, as a last ditch and worthless effort, but in effort to try and stop the royal flush of night.
"Last time I stood at a railing like this, I had my back against it" he said, looking down at her. "It was the same kind, same kind of wrought iron, a few days ago." He said with that smile still on his face, kind of fading as memory lapsed over his emotions, her face looking up at him intently. "I was fighting next to Ky Kiske, fighting for the Parisian Head Quarters…it was the last battle…only a handful of Gears left, against me and him. We fought, slashing down our enemies, killing them…and we did it, except in the end, I was thrown off the edge by a Gear."
"I won't throw you off" she said smilng, leaning into him. His arm brought itself around her back, bringing her tight to his side, his height of about six foot, maybe a quarter of an inch less palatable to her five foot eight, the top of her head resting right under his chin. He looked off into the distance, his hand rubbing against her arm as he held her tight, his memories jogging back.
"I like coming here. Good view, really pretty." She murmured out, the roar of the crowd behind, yelling merchants, people screaming for an item and then eight voices replying different prices, people running through and defamatory marks yelled at those, the guards spouting rules and regulations to the law-breaker, a chuckling few standing on the side, at the railing also.
"I know what you mean" Darton trailed off.
"We can come here a lot more often as it is. You live in Troy now, Mr. Registered."
"Well, I wonder what they'd think of a Seikishidan coming here, taking away this city's little girl, moving in, and becoming a citizen?" he said with a smirk.
"Well, this city's little girl thinks it's good and fine." She said, her smirk equaling his, as it re-emerged from his previous fading sentiment at past, her lips locking with his in a slow and romantic kiss. Soft and deep, they kissed, for more than a moment, sitting in romantic penance, their gazes finding each other after separating, then looking at the distance again.
"Oh yeah, one more thing…" he said, her eyes curiously looking up at him, his smirk widening. "Zimmerman's coffee really isn't that good."
"I don't like it" an official said, the papers in his hands uneasy, flipping back and forth, examining the words printed upon them. "Ex-Seikishidan...supposedly dead, wanting to start over. And, it just happens we're also in close contact with Zepp, and it so happens this is right after the Paris attack."
"It is indeed suspicious" another official said. There were a few of the Neo-Troy elite sitting around a small table, dimly lit from a swaying, rotted domed light with a grimed bulb, arcing slightly as to shed enough of the dirty light on the papers and table, but shying from their faces, that the light dare not even reveal those secrets. In a small back room in the back of the Neo Troy Information Agency, the head chiefs of the ground floor station crew for keeping the government's little control on the chaos down here, the meeting was held. Much like what Quint had experienced durng his innauguration (officially) to the city, the counsel men now sat to discuss the points of the day, before filing it off into a cabinet to never be seen again.
Troy's lower city lacks government, police, and any real care. It's more like the Hell to Heaven, where Heaven has rules, standards, policies to get in, and the great God. Hell is anarchy, and a place of bad shit. On the floor of Neo Troy, the city kind of lives and rules itself by dog eat dog standards, whether it matters or not what the upper city does. The upper city is run heavily by a complex government that I won't even detail, since I value not wasting enough pages of this story to the wordy constitution they have set up there. They mock the lower world for being trash, a bunch of muggers and thieves living in the shadow of the glorious and righteous. But, Troy can't just shirk off its own people, and instills a slight, ever so slight, type of government and rules on the underside. It's not much (just figurehead bullshit), but sometimes, they really do have to make some interesting decisions. The same few officials stay onto the ground floor crew for four years before being replaced, and it's more of an insult to be working this governmental job, than say...a senator or some sort of office. And, everyday after the Registration Offices close, they all get on their secret little paths and elevators to ascend back up to "Heaven" and shows off the woes of the underworld, only to return the next day. Live in Heaven, work in Hell.
"Well, what can we do?"
"What can't we do?" another official said, poking his words in with a mocking suggestion.
"You know, we already have enough of these slum bitches on the ground floor...and we don't need anymore. Not to mention that if our suspicions are right, he could try to ally Zepp to the U.N., or Troy to the U.N., or Zepp against us. In any situation, it would be bad."
"And if Zepp found out we were letting in the Seikishidan dogs, they'd cut off all ties with us."
"Exactly" another official chimed in an icy voice. "I suggest we throw a bounty on the table."
"...Clever" the first official whimisically added.
"And, who's to miss this new guy, this one new guy? If he dies, oh shame, that's what he gets for being part of the filth down here. And, I can pull strings to make sure this entire process today never happened."
"Burn the files, bribe the secretaries with the proposition of keeping their jobs, as if they'd care, and send it on the merc circles."
"I think we got ourselves just the man, actually." another of the Neo-Troy elites said, pulling out another file, the manilla folder sliding across the table with a bushel of papers inside and a small photo clipped to the outside next to a big name marked in red.
"Is that a fact?" another said, reaching his hand out into the light to grab the file.
"He seems to be a new Troy dweller also, came in on the last MT with this 'Quint Darton' fellow...and, he is highly decorated for his exploits in other mercenary circles."
"...You think he'd take the job?" the official said back, the sounds of rifling papers heard near his voice.
"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."
"And, who is this guy?"
"They say he uses Black Tech, wears these mish mashed garbs he sewed together himself. Not like that's new, but it's discernable. Has a funnyA-Country hat also, and, get this. He loves Aspirin...and uses a gun."
"A gun? An outsider? This guy must be real good. Not many know or use them outside here and Zepp."
"Well, we need a good bounty hunter to get this Mr. Darton; he survived Paris, the unofficial third, and helped out Ky Kiske. I do not doubt he is a very skilled soldier, which is why Kiske sent him here to make his way with us and see what he could stir up between Zepp and us."
"The U.N.'s been trying to bash us into open trade and open population migration for years. This is just another attempt. In plus, if this bounty hunter's got a gun, and is from the outside, how's he affording the bullets?"
"Maybe his reputation precedes him?"
"He's an alive bounty hunter, that says something."
"Yes, so his asking price would be pretty high. Why would he go for a low bounty such as this?"
"We don't make it low, we make it a nice, fat bounty."
"That's bad for the city to throw money away."
"What's worse? Letting him live, or Zepp declaring war on us?"
"...So, who is this bounty hunter?"
"Jeremy Colt."
Zeronova's Notes:
And another chapter. This one was kind of a scare, since I almost lost it all, due to Win XP being evil. Came out alright, more drama. We're in a time of calm again now, until "something" happens. You're not knowing, but there will be more action, of course. Has to be, this is DG. P Anyway, I'm moving the relationship along nicely, I think, as well as fleshing out Troy as a living city that seems to be more than a mess of buildings, but spiritually alive, such as Midgar in FF7, or Taris in KOTOR, or Liberty City in GTA 3 (not the best examples, but you know what I mean, or even Dresden-4 in Identity One, for shameless plug). So, chapter 34…coming up on the 200k mark, and this story has at least 15 chapters left (I jest, maybe 35 left, at the rate my head is spinning). To those of you with me now and till the end, I'm amazed, since I honestly would not have that sort of patience even with myself to read something this friggin' long. Oh yeah, anybody notice the new character at the end of this chapter? I thought you might. Yeah, just wait this one out to see how it evolves, it's not just a plug (Like Jaygus), since I take every role, character, stroy plot, sub plot, and the writing conventions (symbols, allusions, motifs, themes, etc.), very seriously. This is going to end up being fun, and I think you'll like it. Not to mention this chapter got loooong...
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