Abandoned Base
"Cysgod," Lelouch got in front of the meditating Cysgod and stared him down. "You know both Daemon and Occulta better than anyone else here! What kind of person is this Daemon? Ego-centric? Prideful? Greedy?" Cysgod stared up at the ceiling for a few moments before answering.
"He definitely has an ego... He's more of what one would call: ideo-centric. As I said before, the overall purpose of the UMNE is a private army for radical utopianism. Daemon isn't an idiot either. He once toppled an entire country in little over 48 hours. However, he did this by simply playing on the fears of the people, exaggerating the problems of high taxation, government corruption, the treatment of workers, you get the picture. While the entire public had its attention upon a highly-publicized trial of a group of government workers, he laced the drinking water with a hallucinogenic toxin and destroyed the central hubs for communication, power, and finances. He waited until everyone was in a panic and then sent in his Divisions to finish the job."
"Didn't want to get his hands too dirty huh?" asked Sugiyama.
"Bastard," Yoshida muttered aloud.
"Not exactly," Cysgod continued off Sugiyama's remark. "Yeah, he enjoys being the one in charge, but he'll step in from time to time. Usually when something annoying to him comes up or when he wants a good challenge. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he challenged one of the Royals to a duel before he eliminated them. If you were to ask what his weakness is, it would be that he is human."
"Are you sure about that?" Lelouch asked, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing that he has done so far has even gotten close to humane."
"I'm saying that if he has a weakness, I don't know about it. He does make mistakes from time to time. However, in a nutshell, he is intelligent, cunning, and ruthless."
"So you're saying he's the... Professor of Crime or something?" asked Shirley. Cysgod burst into high-pitched laughter, reminding everyone of yesterday when he altered his octave.
"No, believe me when I say he's much worse."
Lelouch stood with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, thinking hard. He should actually be finding a way to thank this Daemon, or Occulta, whoever he would meet first; but after hearing what Cysgod had to say, he was quite sure that both Occulta AND Daemon would be ten times worse than Britannia. He was more like him, really. Lelouch saw Daemon as the kind of person who would do anything to achieve the near-impossible, even at the expense of his own standards of morality, assuming Daemon had any at all.
"What about the UMNE?" he asked Cysgod. "We know about the Serpents, but what about Daemon's forces? Are they comprised of Knightmares, or are they infantry-based?"
"As I said, the UMNE is divided into Divisions. And as to the part about Knightmares, he doesn't have any." This surprised everyone.
"He doesn't?"
"No, none of his machines run on Sukuradite. Besides, he has something that happens to be better than Knightmares."
"Like what," questioned Tamaki, "flying Knightmares?"
"He calls them by various names, but they're all of the same type. They are known as mobile weapons: bi-pedal, armored attack vehicles that can fly under their own power and can be outfitted for a whole range of purposes. As to the Divisions and there purposes, the one in charge of mobile weapon warfare is known simply as Alpha Division. In my opinion however," he chuckled, "if Alpha is sent to Japan, then that would be the best-case scenario."
"How come?" questioned Lelouch, now confused. "You just told us that Alpha Division is the Division with those machines that can easily defeat Knightmares."
"Weapons can't fight by themselves. Alpha would be the best opponent for us because their personnel is not exactly what you call 'first-rate,' quite the contrary."
"And the worst Division to come up against?" Cysgod visibly shuddered before he answered.
"The Jahrtausend Division. A single low-level member of that division would be able to tear you apart with no effort. They don't even need guns or knives to do their work."
"Why? What kind of people are they?" Lelouch glanced momentarily at CC before focusing again on Cysgod. "Are they people with Geass?"
"No. Even though Occulta has knowledge of Geass, the UMNE is currently without that ability. Besides, the monsters of Jahrtausend don't need it."
"Why? Are they youkai?" asked Kallen, holding one of the rifles they uncovered.
"I wish," said Cysgod with an air of disappointment.
"Um... what exactly is a youkai?" asked Milly.
"Oh, I know about those," Nunnally announced to the startled group.
"You do, Nunnally?" questioned Lelouch, stiffening up a little.
"Yeah, Suzaku talked about them a little. He said that they were Japanese demons." Lelouch relaxed after this, relived that it wasn't something else that she may have heard about.
"Not even close," said Cysgod, resting the side of his head on the palm of his hand. "The members of Jahrtausend Division are what you might call... vrykolakas.
Aeternum Renegade Social Exchange
Rivalz and Cornelia were escorted back to their cell by that Meier guy with the T-shaped gun. When the cell door closed and Meier left, they quickly realized their quarters had changed again.
"Oh look, they gave us a clock," Cornelia pointed out. The small device rested on the table, dark silver with a crescent shaped face, curved outwards. Pale blue digital digits displaying 10:36 AM. On the beds, there were fresh sets of clothes. On Rivalz's bed was a school uniform with navy blue trousers, white shirt and maroon blazer. On the other bed was a white and wine red outfit that perked Cornelia's interest. "That's odd."
"Yeah, aren't they being too nice?"
"Aside from that. Move me to the bed please." He did, helping her sit down on the edge of the mattress. She fingered the outfit. "This is... quite close to an outfit I wore eight years ago."
"You mean, these guys copied it?" She held up the outfit, angling it so she could better scrutinize it with her good eye.
"Almost. It's obviously different, but it's pretty close." She had a momentary flashback of a little Lelouch, shouting at their father before his exile. Rivalz started examining his new apparel.
"Maybe they found an old photograph from when you were young- oh come on!" She looked to her cell mate, gingerly holding the blazer in disgust.
"What is it?"
"Do they seriously expect me to wear this thing?" He turned the blazer to show some crudely sewed-on patch-letters reading:
BRITANNIA
RULES MY
BUTTOCKS
"Well..." said Cornelia, raising an eyebrow, "they are quite lowbrow aren't they." Rivalz tossed the blazer aside.
"At least I still have a shirt," Rivalz conceded, picking up the said article. Cornelia immediately noticed something stitched on the back.
"Actually..." she pointed and Rivalz turned the shirt around. Across the top of the back, between the shoulders, was threaded: Amicus meus dereliqui.
"What in the world does this mean?"
"It's Latin. I know very little of it. Amicus means friend. Dereliqui... der... re... reli... reliqui... relinquish? Friend of relinquishment? Relinquishment of a friend- oh." Rivalz understood as well.
"They... must've overheard me talking about when I left Lelouch." There's that name again, she thought, but more importantly.
"When did they overhear? If I recall, you were telling me about your friend before the hallway door opened." Rivalz just shrugged.
"Does it matter? All I have for clothes here are what I'm wearing now, those queer pajamas, and these trousers."
"You could just turn the blazer inside-out."
"I guess. It would look tacky though."
"We're prisoners, no one will care what we look like." Rivalz grumbled, but he knew she was right. Still though, why the lowbrow clothes?
In, what can only be described as a moderate studio apartment, both Ledo and Schnee were discussing a situation with their parents.
"Schnee, these guys are obviously criminals," the former Earl reiterated, "you realize what that means if you accept that 'Deal' right?"
"Yes," said Schnee, "but if we don't accept, then they could leave us to the Serpents. We still don't know where we are."
"That's right," Ledo added, "I only caught a glimpse through the windows from earlier. All I can tell is that it's sunny out."
"Ledo."
"Mother, what choice do we have? At least you can live comfortably if I accept the Deal."
"That's not the point Ledo!"
"Mother!"
"You'll be a criminal too if you join them, Ledo!"
"Yeah, I will, but you won't!"
"Ledo!"
"I agree with him," said Schnee. "Yes, we'll be juvenile goons under this, but the rest of you would be able to live safe-&-sound."
"This isn't the time to be selfless Schnee," Himmel tried to reason with his son, "it's just too risky." This actually prompted the significantly shorter Schnee to actually persist for once.
"What good is a reward without sweat and blood?" That made the Earl raise his eyebrows. Schnee had just quoted his grandfather, who had passed away not two years prior, coughing up blood from tuberculosis while still talking like the strong man he once was. Himmel sighed.
"That is true," he had to admit.
"Himmel?" Schnee's mother looked to her husband. The Earl nodded his head.
"Schnee has made his choice."
"Himmel?!" The Earl gave his wife a firm look.
"He has made his decision, we should respect it." Schnee, was actually surprised himself, hearing his father say something like that. He had to bow his head.
"Thank you father." Ledo, looking on, turned back to his mother. She was looking on too, of course, and seemed more worried now after witnessing an earl submit to the will of his son. Ledo took his mother's hands in his.
"Mother, the Deal is the price I'm willing to pay. Let me pay it." Lya Offen, took a long, hard look at her son, took a deep breath.
"Okay Ledo."
Abandoned Base
"Wait a minute, let me see if I understand what you're saying. You are telling us that one of Daemon's Divisions happens to be manned fully by undead superhumans who drink blood and turn humans into zombies?"
"In a nutshell... yes." Everyone except for CC gaped at Cysgod as Tamaki continued.
"Okay, I have to admit it, that is the most STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!"
"Are you saying that after seeing someone get shot in the head and live, you're not going to believe in the existence of vampires?"
"He has a point Tamaki," said Inoue. Tamaki groaned in frustration as Ohgi raised a hand.
"What about the other Divisions? What is are chance against any of them?" Cysgod shrugged.
"Beats me, I know very little about the rest of them."
"But do we have a chance?" asked Lelouch, almost demanding an answer. "That's the most important thing here! Do we have a chance?" Cysgod was actually surprised by the young man's attitude.
"Depends on who comes to Japan. But, in general terms, we have a 25% chance of survival overall."
"Better than 24%," said an unfazed Lelouch, "tell us everything you know about the UMNE."
en route to "Dreyfus"
On a transport away from Area 11, Zeta reclined in the back seat of the cockpit. A monitor on the communication console lit up.
*NAVAJO NETWORK ID CONFIRMED*
*IDENTIFY*
Zeta leaned in from his seat so the pilots could focus on flying. Donning a headset, he typed in: YOUNG BLOOD on a blue-tinted display and sent it, waiting for the reply.
*NA-HA-TAH-TA-BA-HOGAN JO-KAYED-GO DA-AZ-JAH DO BI-NE-YEI*
"Hash-kay-gi-na-tah Zeta bilh Atsah, bi-chi-ol-dah Dreyfus bi-tsan-dehn Beh-na-ali-tsosie," he spoke into the mic, the computer then transcribed his words onto the communicator's screen back at HQ.
*WHO?* Oh give me a break!
"Zulu-Echo-Tango-Alpha GOFO BOLO!" Sometimes he hated being the "youngest."
*AL-NESHODI NAH-SAI?*
"Utzah." If the school wasn't attacked, then it would've been "successful" instead of just a "success."
*DA-AZ-JAH TA-A-NEH(ED), NAY-NIH-JIH BILH BI-CHI-OL-DAH, HA-NEH-AL-ENJI TA-AKWAI-I*
Area 11
Abandoned Base
"So, this is the make up of the UNME?" Everyone was gathered near a section of wall where Cysgod had hung a white board and had hurriedly scribbled out a layout of Daemon's UMNE.
Division X: Daemon's main infantry force, competent and loyal (as far as one could tell)
Arcane Division: security force, former criminals? possible occult?
Serpent Division: Sons of the Serpent
Jahrtausend Division: vampires, smallest division, shock troops?, assassins?, avoid at all cost
Red Division: special weapons, capable invasion force, rely on momentum
Logos? Division: primarily logistics, combat ability unknown
Alpha Division: mobile suit division, sub-par personnel
?-?-? Division: R & D, genetics and robotics, combat ability unknown
"So apart from the 'vampires'," said Ohgi, "who would be the worst to fight against?"
"That would have to be either Red or X. As noted, Division X members are Daemon's choice. If there's something he wants taken care of personally, he'll send these guys."
"What about that Division?" asked Kallen, gesturing to the first question mark.
"Ah, those guys aren't the worst scenario, but they're still a nasty bunch. They're mainly an influential think-tank among other things. But it just so happens that these guys were responsible for starting two wars that nearly ended in total annihilation for the world they were in."
"You got to be kidding," said Shirley, almost gasping as she helped Toru move a crate of land mines.
"Unfortunately no. But fortunately, their politics is actually easy to recognize."
"But which is the most likely opponent when Daemon decides to attack us here?" asked Lelouch, arms crossed and starring straight at the white board. Cysgod scratched his head.
"That's a tough one. I suppose it would be a toss-up between Alpha, Red, and X Divisions."
Lelouch then nodded, closed his eyes, and remained stock-still for a long time.
"Umm...Lelouch?" Shirley came up and gently tapped his arm. Lelouch continued to stay motionless. Cysgod, unlike the others, was twiddling his thumbs while wondering what the next words out of Lelouch's mouth were going to be.
"Cysgod," Lelouch said, his eyes still closed.
"Yes?"
"Can you help us fight?"
"Occulta is my enemy, how can I not?
"Then you will help us?" Cysgod smiled in response.
Aeternum Renegade Social Exchange
beep beep beep
Cornelia and Rivalz heard the door to the corridor open and Meier appeared again. Only this time, he did not have that gun on him, and he had changed his apparel. He was now donned in night black slacks and a matching silk shirt. And about his neck were a pair of simple necklaces; a red dagger and a golden star, each with their own slender silver chain. His white-caped sneakers were the same though.
"Aren't you two lucky," he smarted.
"How so?" inquired Cornelia, sitting comfortably in her new clothes. Meier opened the cell door.
"Alex, in regard to you, is being extremely generous. Come on, he wants both of you to witness something." Rivalz, self-conscious in the blazer he turned inside-out (blatantly showing the dark blue underside), helped Cornelia to her feet as she grumbled.
"I'm guessing he's also in a mocking mood as well."
"Oh, he's always like that. He loves making fun of those in positions of power, he can't help himself. Come on." The two of them hobbled behind Meier as they were led through hallways, once again. This time, they entered that dancehall through a sort-of side door, stepping onto an elevated floor along the right edge.
The atmosphere was very different from last time.
Slightly dimmer than before, only now the vast room was awash with an autumn-dusk candle-like glow. Both levels, except for the stage were cluttered with round tables, draped in carmine tablecloths and centered with black or white wax candles. And the room was definitely crowded and substantial subdued this time round as Meier sat them down at a table on the far edge. As Rivalz helped Cornelia into her seat, he noticed a long line of ten smaller tables in white table cloths before the stage. These tables were each set with: a silver candlestick, a pistol, a dagger, and 4 ornate cards atop a silver tithing platter. Almost everyone in the room was garbed in black. Between the white-clothed tables and the stage, adolescents wore black formal wear with red sashes draped across their shoulders, 2 for each table. On the stage stood Alex with Dillinger off to the side. Dillinger was dressed like Meier, only his silk shirt was white.
"Good grief," Cornelia muttered, "are there any adults here?"
"Well," said Meier, "if you're going by age, then there are plenty of adults."
"Really? And where might they be?"
"There are three for certain in this room. Two are on the stage, and the other is carefully watching two British prisoners with an itchy trigger-finger and a Jericho 941 under his shirt."
"A Jeri-what now?" Rivalz asked aloud. Meier, in answer, swiftly brandished and racked a black steel handgun.
"This."
"Oh, okay, I see." Rivalz nervously turned away from their minder and looked over the crowd on the lower level. "Actually, there are some adults here."
"What?" Cornelia perked up.
"Yeah, down there in the crowd."
"They aren't of us," said Meier.
"They're not?"
"They are emigres, desperate guests."
"Emigres..." Cornelia said to herself. She knew that word, a French word meaning: one who flees their own country. So: traitors? A traitor would be desperate.
"Yeah," Meier continued, "victims of the Serpents." That made everything clear, shockingly so.
"They're Britannians?!"
"Not anymore," Meier pointed out, putting his gun back under his shirt. "Britannia is dead; they are stateless."
"Well, what are they doing here?" Rivalz asked.
"A combination of luck and happenstance, more or less. Now hush." Alex Power had looked over at them then. Meier nodded at him, and Alex nodded back before raising a hand. Everyone in the room quieted down.
Alex Powers spoke.
"Today, we gather here to witness a new beginning; not just for us, but for those willing to grasp the opportunity offered to them. From this day forward, the lives they lived before shall end, and their new lives, lives within la vita nostra, shall begin." He then continued on, ranting on in Italian, Latin, and a different language that even Cornelia couldn't comprehend.
"What is he saying?" Rivalz whispered. "And what language is he even speaking in?"
"Gaelic," Meier answered in a hushed tone, "the language of Ireland. He's talking about Occulta and the Utopians."
"The what?"
"The one who set the Serpents on your precious empire; him and the UMNE."
"What is he saying about them?" Meier frowned at Rivalz before answering.
"Remember the 'agreement' we have with them, be wary, keep an eye out for opportunities, they are tyrants of order, we are masters of chaos, brotherhood, this life of ours, blah blah blah blah, stuff that you don't need to know." After a while, Alex eventually reverted back to the familiar English.
"And now, we begin." He looked into the crowd. "Abel Franks, come to the front."
"What?" Cornelia started. Meier hushed her.
"Schnee Hexenhaus, Leonhardt Steiner," Cornelia was tense in her seat as she recognized the names of nobility, "Ledo Offen, Roland Russel, Erika Jaeger, Aderyn Jaeger, Iona Jaeger, Blake Vernon, John Vernon, Richard Washington, Brynda Butler, George Custis, Rooney Custis, Joseph Dolos, Anthony Dolos, Willard Dolos, Hank Dolos, Olsen Dolos, God, I swear you're a family of rabbits, Axler Dolos, Burke Dolos, William Dolos, Jack Dolos, Gerard Harlow, Irwin Wright, Suzanna Colmstoke, Zachary Finch and," he sighed, "oh boy, Jase, Caden, Robyn, Easton, Douglas, Lisbeth, Jared, Lillian, Lindsey, Darren, Ellen, Farrell and Blair Ikthus, God forbid I say 'Ikthus' thirteen times."
"I'm impressed," Rivalz commented.
"You are?" asked Meier.
"Yeah, he just named all those people, not to mention that speech from before, without any notes."
The young, former Britannian, emigres lined up before the tables, four to a table. Ledo and Schnee stood next to each other. To Ledo's right was Blake Vernon, son of the fringe Vernon family, and to Schnee's left was Roland Russel, of a better-off merchant family from the Pacific Northwest. Across the small table, on the other side of the dagger, gun, and the queer cards, were two Facinus members. One had olive skin and energetic brown eyes, and the other had black hair and eyes like a native from Area 11; and both had an identical ring on their right hands.
Alex began again.
"Upon taking this oath, you are born again, into a life like none other. With this oath, you will be brothers and sisters of la vita nostra, the life of the Powers Facinus. You will strive for prosperity, and you will prosper in chaos. You will live for your selves and for each other in this life of ours. While you will be limited by the laws of the world, you are not bound by the authorities beyond this life of ours. You will live by the gun and the knife, and this life can only truly end by the gun and the knife. La vita nostra is eternal, so long as you make it so, and so is this oath." His gaze passed over the emigres. "Do you swear?" Ledo and Schnee looked at each other, and both could see a single bit of sweat on the other's hairline. There really was no way out once you were in.
"I swear," they heard someone utter to their left.
"I-" Schnee gulped, "I swear."
"I swear," Ledo said softly. The rest all eventually uttered a chorus of "I swear." Alex smiled and closed his eyes before holding his hands out, palms up, and began speaking in Latin.
"Domine exaudi eos hoc iuramentum; ponunt animas secundum actus suos, sicut me tenetis secundum meum."
"What is he saying?" Rivalz asked in a hushed tone.
"I don't know," Cornelia uttered back, "I don't speak Latin." Meier rolled his eyes and drew up a chair.
"It's a prayer," he explained. "Lord hear them swear this oath, hold their souls in accordance to their acts, just as you hold me in accordance to mine." Alex continued to "pray" as the Facinus at the white tables handed out the ornate cards to the former Britannian youth.
"What are those cards?" Rivalz asked.
"Prayer Cards, each one bears a Catholic Patron Saint. Everyone gets a different one." Cornelia had heard of the concept of Patron Saints, a mostly Europian concept.
"And who is Alex's Saint?"
"No idea," Meier admitted, "I know Dillinger's is Saint Cajetan."
"And your's?"
"I'm one of God's children, we only have Prophets and Teachers."
The cards were handed to Ledo, Schnee and the other two at their table face-down. Ledo turned his over to reveal a black-robed man with dark hair, bald at the top, holding a heart and a cross aimed toward the light of a sun. Words across the bottom read: Saint Francis Xavier. He looked at Schnee, who in turn showed him the image of a woman in a red dress. The label read: Saint Mary Magdalene. Blake's card bore Saint Michael the Archangel and the card given to Roland held Saint Genesius of Rome.
Alex switched back to English again.
"You will uphold the will of the Facinus, to protect and contribute to this life of ours. You will look out for your brothers and your sisters. You will hear the wisdom and honor of your elder siblings. You will protect this life of ours with silence, via omerta. And you will not reveal this life of ours to others without permission of an elder brother or sister. Via sanguis et silentium, la vita nostra erit aeterna."
"By blood and silence," Meier translated, "this life of ours shall be eternal."
The initiates were told to put their cards down and to hold out their right hands. They did. Ledo and Schnee both frowned, having been given something only to then be told, put it down. The two on the other side of the table then reached out with their left hands, grasped their extended hands, firmly, and then brandished small knives with their right hands. Ledo and Schnee stiffened up, Schnee actually tried to pull back, only for the olive-skinned youth to give his hand a quick jerk.
"Hold still niño," he uttered in a firm but calming voice, "you came this far." Holding the initiates hands over their cards, the inducted members swiftly brought the knives forward and sliced the tips of the initiates' little fingers. Schnee winced and Ledo actually gasped aloud, and they weren't the only ones. The members squeezed their fingers tightly. By the light of the candles, they saw their blood drip, drip, drip onto the painted faces of the Saints on the table. Their hands were jolted a little, ensuring more blood before their fingers congealed.
"Le fuil, tá anamacha na ndeartháireacha seo faoi cheangal chun a mionn agus an saol seo."
"By blood, these brothers' souls are bound to their oaths and this life."
Once all the initiates were bloodied, the cards were collected at their respective tables.
"Hold your hands out," the olive-skinned brother told Schnee and made a gathering motion with his hands, in the manner one would scoop up water, "cup 'em." Schnee and the three others heeded his words. The two brothers, after stowing away their knives, then held the cards by the candle's flame. Ledo's card, Saint Francis, was first. The Eleven-ish brother carefully angled the card as the fire caressed the card's edge, then across to the other corner. And as Mary Magdalene touched the flame, the brother held out Ledo's lit card, flame beginning to blacken the top of the monk's head.
Wait, he's not going to- is he?
"Don't drop it," the brother said, and dropped the burning Saint into Ledo's palms. Ledo gasped as he felt the crisp heat. Don't drop it! Instinctively, Ledo started doing his best to shift the Saint from one hand to the other and back again. He heard Schnee wince next to him as he started gingerly handling a burning Mary Magdalene.
"From this moment, you are now brothers and sisters of the Powers Facinus. I, Alex Varain Powers, am your Pater Familias, and you are among my clienti, bound by honor. If your loved ones are sick and dying, and we need you to go, you will go." Ledo would've checked to see how Schnee was doing if not for the cindering Saint in his palms. "If you betray your Godfather, if you betray your brothers and sisters, if you betray the Facinus, if you betray your oath... your soul will burn in hell like the Saint that's burning in your hands!" The Saint was almost ash now, if not for the flicking flames. Ledo was trembling, praying not to drop the immolated Francis. Alex spread his arms wide-"Aeternitas est nunc!"-and clapped his hands together. Ledo clapped his hands together, along with the flaming Saint! He was breathing hard, harder than he realized. Some of the other initiates had done the same. Others, like Schnee, had slammed their embers onto the tithing platters. And one or two actually managed to set their embers down. All were visibly shaking though. Alex placed both hands on his stomach before taking a deep breath.
"Ita sit, tri thine agus fuil. Sei uno di noi; la Cosa Nostra." Alex opened his eyes and spread his arms out.
"So be it, through fire and blood. You are one of us; this thing of ours."
"Welcome to the Family."
"Welcome to the Facinus." The army of adolescents erupted in cheers and scattered cries of: "Salud!" and "Aeternum!" and "Facinus!"
Ledo and Schnee found themselves stifled by their new brothers, who strongly embraced them.
"It has been too long," said the olive-skinned one, grasping the back of Schnee's neck in a familial manner, "it's been a while since we got some new brothers." He actually ruffled Schnee's hair. "Nice to meet you, hermanito."
"Herma-what? Um-" The "brother," who introduced himself by pricking their pinkies, vigorously shook Schnee's hand.
"Jaime {high-may} Estrada," he greeted with friendly energy, "and it's an honor to blood you Schnee." He let go and turned to Roland, "You as well," and embraced him too. The other one, merely embraced Ledo, patted his back, then shook his hand.
"Welcome to the Facinus, I'm Daichi Shiyubi, one of your elders." Elder? He couldn't be more than 17.
"Nice to meet you." Daichi then did the same to Blake. On the stage, Dillinger nodded towards someone to the side and began to leave as Alex let the crowd settle down a bit.
["Break" - Three Days Grace - PLAY]
"Now then," Alex concluded as some Facinus members snuck on-stage with instruments, "now that that's over and done with. LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!"
["Break" - 0:11]
The throng seemed to surge with the roarkus music. The room actually brightened and the lighting shifted from autumn red to the vibrant blue and violet neon the room had before. Amidst the chaos of the adolescents surging this-way-and-that, Rivalz did notice a handful of Facinus quietly extinguishing candles and moving tables to make space for a dance floor.
"I have so many questions," Cornelia groaned, "and now I also have a headache!"
"Do you need to lay down?" Rivalz asked, concerned.
"NO! I need to have my questions answered!"
"Then ask," Meier quipped.
"Fine! First question: what just happened?" Meier rolled his eyes and looked to Rivalz.
"Aren't you going to answer that?"
"Me?"
"You saw everything, now be a good shaggitz and tell your cellmate what's going on." Rivalz glowered at him, figuring that "shaggitz" had to be a very demeaning insult.
"It looks like a bunch of young Britannian refugees were... inducted into the Facinus." Cornelia nodded her head.
"Yes, I figured that much. But how were they initiated?"
"How?"
"Yes! How? Did they bow down and kiss Alex Powers' feet? Did they have guns at their heads?"
"No."
"Then how?"
"They... almost lit their hands on fire?"
"They what?"
"They were each given one of those Saint cards, then their fingers were pricked, dropping blood on the cards. Then the inductors took the cards, set them on fire, then gave the flaming cards back to the initiates!"
"They what!"
"It's not that bad actually," Meier added, summoning and young woman with a serving tray. "Orange and Vanilla Coke please."
"Straight or diet?"
"Regular please, thank you." The girl left. "Don't get me wrong, you should avoid fire whenever possible. But in the case of the Oath, it burns quickly and most initiates instinctively toss it from hand to hand. The fire will only burn you if you let it."
I had to rush a bit in regard to last month or so; I apologize if it shows. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.