Guest – Yes, they represent something, but what fun would it be if I told you? Kudos for the feedback, though – glad to see you're enjoying it, or at least appear to be.
Demons – Glad to see you enjoy Time Baron. He's shockingly easier to write than everyone else. Maybe because of how detached he is.
Jetzer - Taking a divergent path. Trust me, I double-triple-quadruple check these details before posting (although sometimes I forget to include spellchecks, whoops).
Suzululu4me - Glad to see you're enjoying it.
HalfDragon - I'll have to read that at some point.
Esoulix - Shinjuku is like my favorite battle in the entire series, so I wanted to play with it quite a bit. I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the differences. The Lancelot will be coming up soon...
Sorry about the temporary hiatus, everyone. Not only have I been cast in a play and tentatively starting a rock band, but there's work, too. So here's something of a prologue to the next chapter.
[*****]
AREA 11
Kallen Kozuki left her house a little after seven, as the November sun was just beginning to rise. Normally, she would have been a groggy, bleary-eyed, dreamy mess at seven in the morning, but Zero's abrupt call last night left her shaken and curious as all hell. It sounded urgent – imperative, even.
He sounded alarmed, honestly. All the more reason to get going…
She adjusted her scarf and double-checked to make sure she had her mini-purse/weapon hybrid in her pocket, and set off into the heart of the Tokyo Settlement. Her eyes wandered across the tightly-packed city, the passing storefronts and neon signs that were the bulk of Tokyo's inner city designs. The streets were largely car-deserted, but plenty of people were milling about, be it early-morning joggers or men and women off to work. A considerable amount of police officers about, which made Kallen pick up the pace a little more.
Kallen stopped at a vendor to buy some breakfast. All of a sudden, she noticed a singular Japanese man running towards a group of police officers stationed near some newspaper kiosk. Before Kallen even had a chance to breathe, the Japanese man pulled out a crudely-made Molotov cocktail, and chucked it at the officers. The man had flubbed his throw, however; the Molotov exploded on the sidewalk, leaving behind a small bed of fire. The police officers stumbled back in shock and begin shouting at the man. In response, he pulled out a pistol and started firing.
Good. They're getting what they deserve.
Those who were observing this were screaming or running away by now, but Kallen was transfixed. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sudden, impulsive onslaught of violence. It was like a dream. She barely even noticed how the man's weapon was abruptly shot out of his hand; the police promptly surrounded the arsonist and tackled him to the floor, proceeding to give him the beat-down of a lifetime.
"Filthy, ungrateful Eleven!" one of the officers spat, delivering a blow to his jaw.
"You son of a bitch!"
"Teach you some fucking matters, Eleven!" A powerful kick.
That does it. Kallen squared her shoulders and started walking up to the officers, murder written on her face. She would have gone through with it, too, had a hand not grabbed her forearm. She turned to see who her would-be guardian was, and was fairly surprised at what she saw. A woman, wearing a short brown leather jacket atop a velvet shirt and black leggings. She wore a white cap perched atop her head that largely concealed her face, save for her bright gold eyes and mouth. Two long strands of green hair shot out on both sides of her face. In spite of all of the obscuring clothing, Kallen could tell how thin this mysterious lady was.
"Don't bother," she said, with a finality in her voice.
"They're going to kill him," Kallen whispered back, harshly.
"He made a choice, and he has to suffer the consequences for said choice. Even if you get involved, you're only prolonging the inevitable."
Just couldn't mind your own business, could you? Kallen clenched her fists. "What are you saying? I just let it happen?"
"That's the wisest decision for now. Now, let's go. The Black Knights are waiting."
What?! Kallen shifted to face the cryptic woman, but she was already leaving. Kallen raced to catch up to her, surprised and a little unnerved.
"Um, run that by me again?" Kallen whispered, frantically looking around to ensure nobody was listening.
"You work for the Black Knights. Therefore, you must go to work, correct?"
"Are you one of our contacts? Spies? Informants?"
Or a Britannian spy?
"It's kind of romanticist, don't you think? The Black Knights? The protectors and enforcers of justice?"
Kallen was scared beyond all belief. Her hand slowly slid towards her pocket, felt to ensure her pouch was still there. She quickly scanned the immediate arena of action, wondered how she could get away with murder quickly and efficiently in a compact place like the Tokyo Settlement. After a moment of thought, she grabbed it—
"You'll go blind if you stare at me like that," she continued. "You don't need to worry. You could say I'm one of your trusted associates."
Kallen returned her weapon to her pocket. "I just had to ask because… I've never seen you at any of the Black Knights structural meetings. Ever. Do you… have a codename?"
"C.C.," she explained, with a dispirited, listless wave of her hand.
"C-2? Um, nice to meet you," Kallen said, trying to walk proudly and confidently in order to mask her fear and embarrassment. "What do you… do?"
"Espionage. Data collecting. A little this, a little that. Mostly mentoring."
"I see…"
"Do you think of yourself as a racist?"
Kallen coughed, shocked. Very direct, this woman. "No. I don't discriminate."
"But you hate Britannians."
"I… yes. Of course. But they're the racist ones! Their crimes against the Japanese are unforgivable."
"All Britannians?"
"Well… no."
"So you hate most Britannians."
"Why are you asking this?" Kallen cut in, frustrated, lowering her voice. "I don't even know you."
"Do you even know yourself?"
"It's too early in the morning for this crap…"
"You don't have to answer any of my questions. You could ask me some as well. I'm an open book when I want to be."
She kept saying all of that in an aloof, uncaring tone of voice that irritated Kallen to no end, but she figured punching a supposed Black Knight in the face would look bad for publicity. "Fine. Where did you come from? Where do you live? Are you new to our cause or have you been in another cell? If so, which one? Why are you serving with us?"
"I've come from a far-away place. I live here, in the Tokyo Settlement. I suppose I'm new – I'm not as seasoned as you, or your compatriots, but I've had my share of battles and missions. And I'm serving with you because there's something I want I'm not going to be able to find anywhere else."
Interesting. Unless she's playing tricks with me. "Something?"
"Yes."
"Mind expounding on what that something is?"
"Trade secrets."
"…I'm good."
"I thought so," C.C. continued. "Do you miss Japan?"
A familiar melancholy washed over Kallen, and she found herself pouring her heart out. "Yeah. It used to be an amazing place. Diverse place. I always associate Japan with nature, and… paradise, really. Just paradise. But Area 11… Area 11 is all about war. Wars from the past and present, wars that still need to be fought, wars that have already been fought but will need to be fought again. We're chasing paradise now."
"Area 11 is much more affluent than Japan," C.C. pointed out. "Technology. Construction. New cityscapes."
"But it cost us our freedom," Kallen said, bitterly.
"Do you hope?"
"I have to. Without hope to cling to, what else do we have? Maybe there's a chance to see Japan again. I hope the chance comes soon."
"There's a lesson to be learned. Here in Area 11."
Kallen glanced at her.
"Good intentions only go so far," C.C. explained.
[*****]
