Spring Beginnings, Chapter 1: Spring Comes
This is today's newsflash at seven-thirty, brought to you by the good people at KNN. Today's host - Darius Eisenhower.
"Good evening Kerning City, thank you for tuning in to KNN at seven-thirty. Today's highlights on the coast will be on recent plans by the Maple World Government to expand Marines presence on the west coast following several armed assault on Kith Harbor ships ferrying supplies from Lith Harbor. Chief of Army, General Montegomery, has pledged to investigate on the recent occurances..."
Not the news I wanted. I'm more concerned about some rather disturbing intelligence I've just received from that woman. She seems to know a thing or two about the recent developments of armed conflict, since they were the first to happen on such a highly publicised note since seven years back.
The device I had in hand - Jerry, as I usually call it in honor of another person - beeped. I glanced at the device quickly, and found that that woman was on the line. That alone means no one could trace this call, then.
"Shiba?"
"Yes, woman?"
"You watching tonight's newsflash already?"
"Yes, I already am. But other than the usual pledges and the minor social cases, there isn't much to look at."
"Watch out for the next segment, then."
"Whatever for?"
"Do as you are told. Don't forget, you signed the agreement, so no questions."
"Suits me just fine then," I remarked, hanging up on the connection and letting in some air from the night sky. Even then, the outside air at this hour was something most would find unbearable, and I wasn't so inhuman to not acknowledge that it is pretty disgusting to stay in this room full of worse-than-stale air for too long.
"And we're back from the intermission break. In another Marines-related newsflash tonight, the government has officially announced for the public recruitment of individuals skilled in ore-mining and combat skills, in addition to plans to initiate excavation on a newly discovered island forty kilometers off the south of Florina Beach.
After reviewing photographs of the new island, it has been discovered that there are unknown individuals living on the island, in addition to the unusual occurance of a supply ship docking close by. Military experts believe that it could be a concealed Bloody Amaryllis mining project at work, and allowing the Bloody Amaryllis to proceed would be "suicidal."
'Yes, definitely, there are some very dangerous hints of illegal activities going on. (Michael Hail, Professor, University of Kerning City Military Academic Head of Department) Leaving this unchecked would be disastrous since we are unsure where the vessel was headed for during its departure. Advanced mining machinery, normally under corporate control, could be an issue to look into. This has to be investigated, definitely, and the sooner the better.'
In social news today, Pope Tristen III took time off to grace the Annual Expression Contest..."
... so that was the thing the woman wanted me to look into. Let's see if I can't get information from the access node...
***
The contestants' room was filled with a lot of people, as usual, but mostly these were authorised back-pass holders who wanted to take a good look at this Victorian Games' two very different contestants. A locker with a green/black schema Old World chinese shirt adorned by the side, was the one given more attention to.
Behind the locker, the Hunter-Assasin (more commonly known as Huntersin) inspected his ornately crafted bow with care as he pored over any minor details that could affect the competition. A hunter's life is his ranged weapon, and in Jake Kenders' case, it was his most precious Arund-class contest longbow. Having seen much of the action from the start of the Games, this bow had done all it could to lift the slender Huntersin within reach of a back-to-back Spring Championship trophy, a feat never attempted before because of the highly volatile and random nature of the Games, especially in the free-for-all Open Category contest.
"A little polish here will do, then," the boyish-looking Huntersin with a head of jet black hair mouthed off, as he delicately placed the finishing touches to his refining exercise, using a light liquid which neatly glossed the surface of the longbow. Under the dusk light, the longbow would sparkle brightly, and it would do well to impede his opponent's vision when he comes up close for a macho repartee.
On the other side, was a muscular-built man in his mid-twenties. Seated on a bench nearby, the entire time given for preparation by the Games committee was used in mediation as he slowly chanted a Highlander's battle verse. The man who hailed from the harsh desert-highlands of the North did nothing of the sort that his more illustrious opponent did, quietly mediating away in spite of more than a few amused glares in his direction. A black horse of the competition, punters rated Kai Yangoros at best odds of 10:1 for his relative inexperience, frequency of technical rather than outright wins, and supposed fatigue during the run-up to the finals, coming very close to defeat against a female Assasin whose only slip in the contest was to allow Kai time to recover, providing him with a much-needed opportunity to land several critical hits against his opponent, eventually achieving a technical win.
"Please insert your weapons into this capsule," an old man adorning the Games committee shirt requested from amidst a group of press reporters, with two contest bunnies (the name for girls in bunny suits, whose main role in the Games is to attract publicity) holding one gachapon-capsule, super-sized. Jake and Kai duly complied, inserting their equipment into the capsule. Just before the press dispersed, Kai offered his right hand forward.
"Let's do this. May the best man win," Kai gestured, his tone with just the right amount of testosterone.
"Of course!" Jake replied in earnest, returning the favor in equal measures with a firm, steady handshake.
***
Ladies and Gentleman, come on in and step right here! For this Channel Victorian show viewed by millions islandwide, today is this Spring's hottest contest, sponsored by none other than C.V. - Better than Reality!
This is your host, Jack Braune, bringing to you The 57th Spring Victorian Games!
Today's Open Category Finals matchup is held at no other than the BlueWater Dusk Coliseum, an oval-shaped, bush-dotted stadia arena basking in the glow of the dusk as it lights up the arena ever so slightly; a perfect finale for this spring's action-packed contest, don't you think? The environment now is at a cooling nineteen degrees Celsius, just the right temperature to get everyone going!
The rules of the Games, for the convenience of first timers, go like this: A straightforward contest, as the fight is conducted within the boundaries of the arena. The time limit for each match is twenty minutes, and it's a one-round-settles-all contest, no overtime, no nothing. If anyone of the contestants collapse during a contest, the person has ten seconds to get up or forfeit the match.
Look at the crowd, ever so enthusiastic with the banners and everything, and even some cheers - would you believe it! - for the old-time contestants, as they emerge from the Tunnel into the Combatants' Stands. There, at the center, is Hector Match, winner of the Open Category contest five editions ago. The forty-year-old Games unarmed-combat veteran was knocked out of the contest in the Round of Eight by today's finalist, Kai Yangoros, in a closely-fought, electrifying battle that ended with a technical decision against him. A majority of fans polled post-match felt that Kai was lucky, but, as you know, decisions are decisions.
Less of the trivia, and let's get right on to the action! Today's Open Category Finals is a classic "range versus power" matchup, as Jake Kenders, our winner for the last Spring Games, puts forth a first attempt to defend his Open Category title, something never done by previous Game Winners! We have on the show as guest commentators:
Trayner Baxter, president of the Victorian Games Committee and --
Kyle Lin, personality sports reporter!
Welcome on the show, Trayner, Kyle...
"The Victorian Games, huh..."
The largest television in this district is a mere thirty-four inches, and an immediate sitting space before the television would normally fit no more than ten persons. Yet, for this poor men's zone, a run-down communal hall was housing over two hundred people huddled around the same decrepit electrical, haggling and growling loudly over heated discussions of the Games unfolding before their eyes.
"...That Hunter is in trouble. He has a problem with casting his magic sometimes, and it has affected him in almost every other contest. Irregular usage of mana..."
"... That's interesting, what is it you're murmuring about, young girl?"
Lena Kotsworth's thought processes were broken into abruptly by a burly-looking middle-aged man, his hulking chest towering over her small frame.
"I... I was saying, that Jake Kenders might not win."
"When they say blondes are stupid, they really mean it," growled the man impatiently. "Are you sure you know what you're talkin' about? He's a sure-fire! I placed twenty thousand mesos, banking on this guy winning!"
"I believe this match would become a technical decision, because of Jake's erratic spell-casting... Kai is... is more reliable, because he has devastating power with his sword. The contest with that arrogant Assasin-class girl would be enough to tell."
"Ya gotta be joking..."
The hulking man looked at Lena, and gave a rather disapproving look.
"Girl talk sure is... confusing! Yes, that's right, confusing! Blonde talk is worse!"
"I wagered today's salary on this... one thousand," remarked Lena, ignoring the insults.
"Good, you sure took your chances with little... because you might lose all of it," laughed the man as he reached over the far side of the table for a can of beer. "The odds are impossible, you see? Last I checked with Toto Joe the Booker--"
"His odds climbed from twenty-five-on-one to fifty-six-on-one," interjected the young lady. "I know... I bought the ticket when his odds was fifty-four-on-one--"
"OK, here goes! Quiet, little girl!"
As the television's speakers echoed the signal for the fight to begin, the crowd of two hundred started to drown out the place with their impassioned shouting, cursing and swearing.
***
And we're off! Jake marks his presence in the B.D.C. with a very well-timed and accurate arrow, which narrowly misses as Kai Yangoros is forced to tumble aside to avoid damage. Kai is closing in on Jake now, but Jake is using - lord, no, three arrows at once, the triple-arrow tactic! - and Kai is forced to take cover! That would count against him in the match!
Yes, indeed, it has been a wonderful start to the Open Cat. contest, with clear favourite Jake Kenders almost cleaning the entire arena clear of artificial cover! Once the cover is gone, that would count in Jake's favor with the judges! Oh, and look, Kai scrambles into the heavily forested area with a risky diversion using branches and stones from around the place! He's making himself look foolish now, but surprises can happen out here and I won't wanna be on the losing end!
Once again, this edition of the Victorian Games is brought to you by BlueWater Armors - Bringing you a safer Victorian Games with light contest armor!
Back to the contest - oh! - it seems like Kai has finally gotten too close for comfort! Jake is now too close within range, and has to fire off distractions from his longbow in order to gain some distance and sight against Kai! This match is now even steven, with neither side yielding completely to the other's moves. Wow!
Kyle, how do you make of this?
Well, I think heavily against Jake, as I've been saying for a long while already. His moves are mostly... I would say, amateurish, sometimes completely and conveniently forgetting his purpose for a certain manouvre, and he sometimes can't find great positions to take cover in. During the quarterfinals, swordsman Elanovich almost swooped over Jake with his rapid double-blade techniques, but was unfortunate to be caught dead in the chest area, and knocked out of the ring because of unnecessary exposure! Had it been for real, Jake's arrow would have killed the careless swordsman given the impact. Kai has been mostly a reliable bet for the entire contest, winning eight out of ten matches with technical decisions.
Same here, I think. I mean, Kai seems to play in a cautious manner, so his - hold a moment, look!
***
The burly guy beside Lena, unable to resist his utter surprise, bounced off his chair in shock; as did the rest of the people glued to the television set. It got so much attention that the vertically-challenged Lena was having trouble trying to watch - or even listen to - the match as commotion and protests rang among the two-hundred-odd.
"What an excellent move!" Yelled the voice from within the television set. "In one single precise attack, Jake was caught dead by Kai and was struck out of ring before Jake could even respond! The match is over!"
Since she did not catch the event happen, no thanks to the shock and the hoo-har that came and went with the people in front of the television set, she had to make do with the instant replay as the crowd continued to disperse in disappointment.
"Take a look one more time," announced Jack Braune. "As Jake whirls around, he finds Kai suddenly appearing from right behind him, but his Arund was not a shield and his dagger was not in time. The force of Kai's powerful sword technique effectively hurled him out of the arena, and with only his third non-technical knockout of the tournament, decided the match in just under two minutes!
Lena stopped for a while. Why would a speedy Huntersin like Jake completely miss this move? Then as the instant replay flashed through the screen for a second time, this time from a closer, on-the-ground angle not more than three meters away from the action, she understood why.
He simply... froze on the spot, she had concluded. It was not that Jake could not have reacted, Lena reasoned, given that he had grown a reputation for being the best counter-and-parrying combatant of the last Spring Victorian Games, a mean feat considering that neither the Assasin-class nor the Hunter-class were trained in such combat.
It was that, for some reason unexplained, he simply just... froze.
"Lena Kotsworth?"
Lena turned around in surprise, not aware that she was totally lost on postgame analysis.
"I believe you've made a bet for the Finals?" Asked a blonde-haired strongman, a face of cleanly-cut features making him decidedly gentleman, and with an endearing, charming voice to boot. Lena blushed, but quickly concealed it in a heartbeat.
"Oh, sorry, Mister Toto," she hurriedly apologised, handing over the ticket to Toto Joe. "This is a bet of a thousand mesos, at odds of fifty-four-on-one."
"That would be fifty-four thousand mesos then," he remarked, quickly scrawling, and then handing over a rather dirtied Bank of Victoria cheque for that exact amount to Lena. "I've watched the match and heard your analysis. You will do well as a punter on the Games."
"T-thanks, I think I was just being lucky..."
"Ha, ha! I do think that sometimes people just need a little bit luck to get themselves out of downtrodden situations!" He chuckled, chugging a can of beer while he spoke. "Well, then, see you around next time! I've got little in the way of business since most of the people placed their money on that Huntersin, but I need my beer at Jason's little hole! Check ya later."
Before Lena stepped out of the communal hall, though, Joe pulled her back abruptly, firm yet not molesting.
"The Snarl is watching. He's also listening. It's fifty-four grand mesos, so be careful where you're going. I'd suggest the bank, if I were you."
Lena peeked across the road. Sure enough, the hostilities were warming up really quickly. Amidst the crowd of sick men laying down on the streets begging for money for a quick fix, it was all too obvious the gangsterism that was ripping through the neighbourhood.
Lena walked out of the communal hall, with a nervous smile across her face as she placed her hands close to herself, cheque out of sight. On the other end of the street, she could see some really rapid, really manic whispering going on amongst the men and women of the district, and for some reason her gut feeling told her that she would be in danger pretty soon.
"What the hell... I had better get outta here soon."
Without another word, she went from brisk walking to a sprint, and soon her sprinting was picking up into a scrambling run; subsequently many other less savoury sprinters started their own.
After her's, of course.
***
"What the hell... It had to act up at that point of time..."
Jake winced, not exactly injured but just pained from landing in an awkward position. After a short moment of trying to find his footing, he finally managed to prop himself up from where he had fallen into - atop safety mattresses laid out by the arena personnel for just this kind of situation. When he eventually got down from the mattresses, he was treated to a standing ovation by everyone within the arena. Somehow he felt wrong about the collective gesture, but nonetheless had to acknowledge and appreciate it even if he didn't completely understand what all the clapping and whooping was for.
"Even though Jake Kenders failed to defend his title, ladies and gentleman, we now have official word... that he has broken two of our Games' record by going on for fifty-one matches without losing, and for the most number of consecutive non-technical knockouts at eleven, besting the previous records by a very large margin!" Jack Braune walked towards Jake briskly, and held out the microphone for Jake.
"Jake, how do you feel about this loss now?" Jack Braune remarked, with just the right clear, bright tone that Jake thought all professional emcees should have had, since he had gone through one previous Victorian Games with a lousy, overtly cheerful female emcee.
"Er, well..." Jake blurted out nervously, "Well... I... I just kind of underperformed today. There was... maybe a bit too much showmanship for me, I would say, because Kai over there --" as he now looked in the winner's platform's direction, into Kai, his opponent, who applauded with the rest of the audience, "-- he caught me trying to break his game psychologically, and used that against me. Overall, I'd say I had a good game today, but it was too bad I couldn't defend my title. Nevertheless... Viva la Victoria!"
His parting shot, one that he felt he was not exactly in sync with, was accompanied by more cheering and whooping, as he was led slowly but surely on a rising platform, and with two bunny girls by his side, to the winner's platform. Jake didn't want to admit it, but that moment he had felt the bunny girls glare at him in a hostile manner.
"You almost made it, boy," remarked Trayner Baxter in his trademark deep-throated tone, as he handed over the runner's up medal to Jake, in and over his neck. All of a sudden, with the runner's up medal over his neck, the realisation hit Jake like a hammer on the proverbial wall; he'd just lost his title defense, albeit through some odd occurence that wasn't entirely his fault.
With that sudden realisation, he felt too ashamed to be standing face-to-face with his victorious opponent, who calmly took the Spring Victorian Games trophy to a very loud, upbeat, and victorious tune, as well as a grandstanding parade complete with fireworks into the evening sky.
That instant, Jake muttered a hurried "excuse me", and slinked off into the locker room amidst the flash of cameras all around the arena. It was enough to split a man apart, the intense pressure.
***
"Damned it! Damned it! Damned it!"
Jake kicked very hard at his own locker, unable to fathom just why he could have just froze and stopped dead for Kai. He had gone for so many matches without incident at all, even if his spell-casting was a bit suspect at times.
"Why does it always happen to me? Why do I always choke at the last minute? Damned it, damned it all!"
His loudest kick on the locker echoed throughout the room, as if to ventilate his unspeakable despair away. Then the door swung open slowly, as if expecting for Jake to respond.
It was Kai, championship trophy still fresh on his hands. All the celebration has left inedible confetti all over the trophy, just like the last time Jake held the trophy. Jake was embarrassed totally, even ashamed to face Kai at all, yet strangely it wasn't Kai who started bragging or showing off.
"Mr. Kenders, I may not know you very well, but I acknowledge my luck in today's battle," began Kai in earnest.
"Luck? How lucky would you have been, Mr. Yangoros? I didn't react in time, you hit me out-of-ring, game over. How hard could it have been?"
"Very hard," was the candid reply. "I don't understand the reason behind it, but I realised you were... what was that called... ah, paralysed for a moment."
"... What do you know," Jake scoffed. "I lost, simple as that. No explanations."
"... Well... at least you knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I was there. If you were not struck by the paralysis, I'd be exposed. Like Elanovich."
"... For a winner of the Victorian Games, you sure are big on postgame analysis." Jake's tone began to soften down, much less on the aggression than before.
"I like to review myself after such contests. Don't mind my weird habit, Mr. Kenders--"
"Fine, Jake will do. Your name?"
"Kai Yangoros. I'd prefer Kai if you would."
***
What does a person do with a cheque when he or she is poor? Cash it in, of course. But even that is difficult when you consider that Lena Kotsworth lives in West Berksley, and that a cheque was enough to lure a blood-hungry mob baying for her blood.
To think it was just a simple, innocuous bet on The Finals.
The nearest bank in which to bank in the money would be located at the other side of Trinity Street, the East-West border of the entire Berksley district. The street itself was clearly a class apart from most Kerning City locales; the bank was simply magnificent in the way it glossed and shone like a sparkling diamond. However, most people would end up at the teller's because the personal bankers would not serve West Berksley residents, as was the curt contents of a notice clearly pasted on each and every junction of Trinity Street.
"Ya don't have to say the same thing more than twice," remarked a panting Lena as she passed the fifth such notice along the same street. Suddenly, and without notice, her hands were forcefully yanked backwards as the mob group began an ambush on her, trying their best to snag the cheque away from Lena. Snapping herself free of the vice-like grip, Lena made a run for the other side of the road, underneath rather than atop a rather conveniently-built overhead bridge made for the express purpose of safe passage across the street.
"Lena Kotsworth! We know where you live! Hand over the money and share it equally, or you and your family will get it from all of us!" Threatened the leader of the mob, whom she recognised only by his nickname and the trademark snarl across his face - that's it, his nickname is The Snarl.
"Hey, you think this is funny, don't you?" Retorted Lena as she held onto the cheque, stuck right in the midst of Trinity Street. "I spent a whole day earning my money, and now that I've earned a fair amount to live decently with my family, you expect me to go back to square one?"
"We're West Berksley people," remarked the ultra-tan-skinned Jody, a girl no more than Lena's age yet every bit of her a potential mobster. "Every bit of meso counts. We just want you to realise that!"
"Realise that, my foot!" Spat Lena. "I know what you guys did to the Kumoya family when you guys heard that they also struck lottery. You are just plain selfish, the lot of you. Now bugger off!"
"Just shut up and hand the cheque over!"
"No way, over my dead body!"
The Snarl did what he did best - snarl away. That didn't even hurt one bit, thought Lena. Then...
"Guys, we'll kill her for the cheque! Charge!"
I really shouldn't say that ever again, Lena had decided before making a run for it.
As Lena frantically escaped the poorly-thrown shurikens and weakly-stabbed daggers while braving the traffic, she was cornered by at least five, or six of Jody's mob. In desperation, she released some mana power from the tip of her fingers, and with one powerful swipe, lashed a magic claw spell out against the three opponents right before her, sending them sprawling backwards with a nasty, forceful scratch to their faces. They would have some lovely injuries to tend to in the morning.
The rest, however, were able to get very close to her before she could summon a fire storm spell that would surely have burnt her assailants bad. Forced to step back from the mob, she suddenly found herself terribly outnumbered nine-to-one on the last turn that would end Trinity Street. It was the classic dead-end, with a wall too high to scale and a mob too many to kill.
"Give it up, Lena! You're not going anywhere!" The Snarl, content with the play, came in for the kill.
"Says who the girl isn't going anywhere?"
A young man, no more than in his mid-teens and dressed in a magenta bandana, with a matching leather half-jacket, a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, popped out from right behind the snarling group, and with a stroke of his fingers, started searing their eyes with a concentrated beam of white, so much so that the mob had to shut the eyes down in utter agony.
"Come on, whoever you are, get outta there now, and fast!"
Lena felt her entire being pulled forward unwillingly, so she was unable to decide between being appreciative and being nasty. Once far away from the mob, the youngster quickly led Lena (equally young) in the direction of a really... long limousine, akin to those owned by rich people. The youngster casually flipped through whatever he had inside the limousine, then tossed a dress in Lena's way.
"Go to the back of the vehicle and get changed," he remarked. "No one will see you around there, including me!"
"Wait, hold on a moment, why do I have to --" Lena began to protest, but was interjected by an even faster youngster.
"If you wanna die, then by all means wear your old clothing! Butler, prepare the hairdresser and the stylists here pronto."
"Will do, young master."
"What, wait, you, hold there a moment, I didn't even agree to this!"
Before Lena could protest any further, the eager-beaver stylists had arrived. Naturally, a makeover is in line.
***
Thorough discomfort. That summed up just about everything Lena thought about, although inside that young, innocent head of hers lay more than a million different thoughts as all the confusion threatened to overwhelm her. Calm down, Lena, you're just lucky to have survived a mob, she breathed as she walked uneasily with the as-yet-unknown youngster down the street, to the main entrance of the bank that she could only have ever dreamed of.
The sliding glass doors opened smoothly, welcoming Lena and the youngster into a world of extravagances. In the bank, business was being made by the trillions of mesos through cups of overpriced coffee served from golden cups, and every other girl out there looked like a million. The bankers were especially charming people, with a fine, delicate balance served between servitude and beauty.
"Good evening, Mister Sanger," greeted the first bank assistant they came across as she greeted the youngster.
"How may I be of service?"
"Good evening, Stacy. Um, could you do some banking for this lady today, instead?"
Stacy glanced all over Lena, herself dressed up in a pretty white gown and given fresh, neat curls to her hair, and then stared at her bank book, and opened her mouth wide in genuine horror a split second before she covered it up. Lena was not sure what that gesture was for, but after a short while, she became aware that Stacy the banker was staring at - for a very long time - the very page that stated her residence address, which of course was none other than 33 Avram Street, West Berksley, Kerning City.
Again, she had thought, one of those who look down upon West Berksley people. The discomfort from earlier suddenly reared its head and magnified itself a hundred times, causing Lena to feel sick deep from within.
"Stacy? What's the delay? Surely a few moments of--"
"OK, sir, I'll be right on it. There. Done already," she said, in a celebratory tone, almost as if she was jubilant in sending away a West Berksley folk.
Lena snagged her own bank book from the lady curtly, and pretended she was going to hiss at the banker hussy by showing her teeth. In the end, though, she didn't.
She was too tired to bother, either, from feeling so utterly sick.
***
"Hey, there you go... back to your old self," declared the youngster, almost proudly, as he walked Lena down to the same part of Trinity Street where she was rescued, barely three hours ago. The night sky was particularly soothing (or cold, depending on one's constitution) with the cool gusts of spring winds blowing repeatedly against flags hung up on the road lamp-posts bearing the embelm of the Maple World Government, causing a rather disturbing flapping noise.
Almost as if the people from earlier were hissing at me, Lena imagined, a moment before she shook that thought out of her system. No one would be chasing her anytime too soon since she'd just had her golden hair curled up, now carrying a look a million mesos away from her unusual, natural rebonding.
"I'm wondering about something," Lena blurted out all of a sudden as she was about to walk up the bridge. "Why did you help me when you knew I came from a West Berksley--"
"Inane stuff," declared the boy. "I am not in the least bothered, much less to know where people come from. If any people of my profession cared about that, they would've already failed a long time ago."
Lena stopped and stared really hard at the youngster. "Don't mind me, but you don't look like you're a professional to me."
"Oh, really?"
"Not that I would know what profession you are, given that you're wearing like anyone now."
"Oh, am I? That was something I wasn't aware of, though," Darren replied, then suddenly his face turned in a wide horror Lena knew nothing of.
"Oh, no, I totally forgot!"
"Huh?"
"I need to go to Shih Lin, pronto! Damned! Butler, you there? Get the limousine down here now!"
"We might meet next time, then, it would seem," giggled Lena as she watched the youngster panic and rush towards the cross-junction. In less than fifteen seconds, the extra-long limousine emerged from the other bend and swiftly raced towards the youngster.
As the youngster rushed his way into the vehicle, Lena suddenly called out to him from where she was, just before the youngster was about to depart.
"Hey, you! What is your name?"
The youngster heard her call for him, and replied in similar fashion from within the extra-long limousine before it sped off from the cross-junction that marked the middle of Trinity Street.
"My name? It's Darren, Darren Sanger!"
Darren Sanger, eh, thought Lena wistfully. "I'm sure I heard that name somewhere before..."
"I'll see you around, then, if we're meant to! Butler, we're going to Shih Lin next. On the double, move!"
Lena waved Darren goodbye as the vehicle boomed past her, slowly walking across the overhead bridge to the other side of Trinity Street, thinking of everything else but the money; the winds slowly caressed against her red one-piece dress, one that has long faded to a dark pink and growing too short for her after years of use and re-use.
And then she found a hooded someone waiting for her at the other side of the bridge, impatiently tapping his foot.
"Look at da goddamned time now, wouldja, Lena?"
***
"...Young master, don't mind me mentioning, but we're already three hours late--"
"Be quiet for once, will you? Anything wrong to help a damsel in distress?"
"Sorry, young master."
"...Lena, eh?" For some reason, Darren just kept grinning to himself as the vehicle rumbled ever so slightly along the long roads of the dark city. "Interesting person, I'd say!"
"Don't you say that every time, young master--"
"BUTLER, what did I just say?!"
"...excuse me, young master."
"You're excused," was Darren's sharp-as-daggers reply. "Now, while we speed up there, could you bring up info on the corvette we just produced? I'm going to need it pretty soon."
"Young master, you're not thinking of the governmental project now, are you?"
"Butler, I am so not going to excuse you if you wouldn't shut up now."
"...Excuse me, young master."
"You're excused, for the last time. Also, bring up the information that we got from R&D on the prototype beam rifle."
"But aren't those -- *COUGH!*"
"Excuse me?"
"After you, young master. *COUGH!*"
***
Everything the Bloody Amaryllis has been doing for the whole of last winter finally has a crystal clear objective to it. Pity, I didn't understand until much later, so here we are running circles around the subject. The device rang once again, and it was not too difficult to conclude that the woman is calling again.
"So you know everything, head to toe now?"
"Crystal clear," I answered. "It seemed stupid, too, but the plan beneath is unbelievably deceptive. Imagine the kind of damage that sort of thing can do, huh, woman?"
"Luckily, we aren't too far removed from the person behind the whole thing. At least we know this is going on right now."
"Yea, and we're going to have to move in soon to stop all of it, but... well, you know, I'm this one big problem here. If I go in, there's bound to be trouble."
"I think you know clearly that without your involvement, our whole engineering could go to pieces. So I think you're actually better positioned to clear up the danger than anyone else."
"Are you absolutely sure, woman?"
"Yes I am. I'm going to link you up to the next ferry that goes there."
"Roger that."
"Oh, and remember..."
"We never had this conversation, right?"
"...goodbye."
Going to a new island, huh? "Jerry, activate geographer mode, jack into the satellite we used earlier, and scan the island at coordinates exactly 40km south of Florina Island. Please identify potential ground zero zones, production facilities, defense mechanisms."
"Yes, sir, activating geographer mode type four - military scanning activated."
"Alright, then, Jerry. Inform me when you're on standby state. Now, to fabricate a personal history..."
***
"...Good evening, Captain Bai She, here is your clearance four pass."
"Thank you, Sergeant," I had remarked without trying to look at her, not even through the shades I had been wearing. Humans have a strange way of identifying people years later even if that person had worn anything that could've hidden his eyes. Any form of eye contact is almost going to be deadly, because sooner or later someone is bound to discover that "Captain Bai She" is not an attachment understudy officer from the Henesys-Ellinia Border Node intel unit. This ferry, while not exactly the fastest that the woman could have linked me up to - about half a day later than the civilian ferry that moved off - this was the most convenient in uplinking to more significant intel that the military could be in possession of, even though the risk I am taking is pretty huge.
"Evening, sir!"
"Evening, soldier, carry on please," I replied, feeling myself move faster and faster in order to avoid contact with too many soldiers. Finally, after a fast round of brisk walking, I managed to duck into a rather deserted part of the ferry - to be exact, it was a transport corvette with a mobile helipad - and from there I begun a fresh round of intel-gathering.
"Uplinking with military satellite and intelligence... I.C. module active."
I.C. refers to the Informations Chamber, dubbed by most as the so-called Internet version four, including the versions that was active back during the days of the Old World. The military I.C., however, is actually more in-depth in terms of the amount of information it has compared to the civilian-access I.C.; not surprising since it belonged to Victoria's only legimate military force. Legimate... hur?
"Sometimes I can be taken in by all the foolish propaganda myself," I muttered to myself under my breath.
"Whose propaganda are you talking about, "Captain" Shiba?"
Did the woman behind me just called me Shiba?! Instinctively I took up the handgun attached to my waist and clicked to semi-auto. The lady right behind me, the redhead bowl-cut, the distinctive pheonix irises... It was that woman.
"My, my, what a rash personality, Shiba... oops, sorry, I mean, "Captain" Bai She..."
"Woman, don't scare me like this! At least have the courtesy to call me by the pseudonym I'm taking!"
"Aww, ain't the spy cute..."
"No jokes. We agreed on this when I agreed to help you." It was at this point that I realised that my right arm was still up, handgun cocked with a single round. No point tiring my own arm, I'd decided, so I flicked the handgun's catch back to safe.
"Fine then, you humorless snake," she snubbed, trying a rather weak pun on my pseudonym. "This corvette arrives on the island at the same time as the civilian ferry service. I'll de-register your name from the corvette once you reach the LST-based port, so you can stop shifting about when you're there. Other than that, I can't help you. You're really on your own now."
"Whatever you say, woman."
I decided to get back to work quickly to settle my tensed-up nerves from the shock I was given. Even though it was definitely considerably mild compared to the real electric shock I'd received in the past, it still felt like static on the ends of my hair nonetheless. Then, as I noticed the woman still staring intently at me while the announcement across the corvette signalled for sixty seconds before departure, I had to question the woman.
"Why are you here, woman? Shouldn't you go back to managing the I.C. system?"
"...I still find you cute, is all. OK, then, I'll see you in three month's time."
"I won't miss you," was my dry reply.
"I won't, either, but it'll be bad to lose an ally like you. We don't number more than three of us."
"I can keep myself alive, but no amount of teleportation magic will help you if you don't get off the corvette now--"
The woman left the room in the blink of an eye, before I could say more. Suits me fine. Now it's time for work... as Captain Bai She.
To be continued...