[Royal Fleet One – 30mins from Illyria Castle. Approximate remaining flight time: 8hrs, 30mins. Traveling speed: 500mph.]
Exiting the immediate airspace of the capital, Ky walks into the airship's bridge room. He removes his jacket, placing it on the couch cushion next to where he's taken a seat – with the sheathed Thunderseal leaning against the adjacent chair. Laid out on the table in front of him were a bottle of wine and a glass, along with a small charcuterie board. "At this cruising speed, it'll take nine hours…." He pushes a button to contact the pilots. "Any word on how the other airship's doing?"
"Theirs was traveling at 750mph, with a duration of six hours." The pilot glances at the monitor connected to Sol and Aria's airship, taking note of how close it is to D.C. "As of now, it's approximately two and a half until they land." The adjacent screen picks up attempted contact – the information's displayed by four headshots. "King Kiske, you have an incoming call from the war room."
"It's only been half an hour. What could they want? Send them through." He answers, greeted by the image of Leo, Millia, Zato, and a plus one on the other end. "Oh, did something come up?"
"No, but unlike you," Leo places his left hand on the back of Ramlethal's chair. "We're putting Ram to good use. She's aiding us on this end."
"Please don't put it like that." She gives him a side-eye. "Ky, I have something to ask."
"What'd that would be?" He raises an eyebrow, slightly tilting his head to the side. "Do you need authorization for a workstation?"
"It's not that. I'm working as Mr. Zato's assistant. What I ask is you keep your channel open."
Her strategic method of thinking is part of why he's glad she's allied with them. "Good thinking. Constant communication's vital." He changes the subject to ask, "any update on our songstress?"
"You mean I-No? She's still in the interrogation room."
"No attempts at a breakout," Millia glances at the image of I-No casually strumming her guitar against the quiet stillness of the chamber. "But it sounds like she's singing the culture's praises as a one-woman church chorus." The video call transitions from the two-way comm to show what's currently downstairs. The candle's flame continues to flicker, softly lighting the table's center – shadows are cast from the light against her hat and the cups from hers and Aria's conversation earlier.
"I wonder if this rain will stop one day
Someone's been crying all along
No worries, there's only one road so I can't get lost
All I have to do is walk
Place by the name of heaven, the promised land
Everyone is waiting in a very long line
Place by the name of heaven, there's a comfort in that
I don't hesitate, just be guided."
"Didn't strike me as the religious type. Sounds like something you'd hear on a Sunday morning."
"Or the end of the world." Valentine picks up her mug, taking a drink of the white mocha she asked for. "I think she's full of it."
"Ram!"
"What?" She looks over her shoulder to see the mixed bag of reactions. Leo's trying to figure out where she's picked up a speech pattern like that. Millia raises her eyebrows and Zato's mouth slightly curves downward. Ky thinks she's learned making those types of remarks from Sol. "Am I wrong?"
[7hrs, 50mins]
One of the two swordsmen from the next room over gets his attention. "Another incoming call, sir."
Testing out a newly installed airship feature, he answers and activates the holographic projection. A life-sized model of Dizzy takes the seat next to him – the same happens on the other end with his holo-image next to her. "Ky?"
"What is it, Dizzy?"
"Oh, it's nothing." She has the magehound in her lap, scratching behind its ears. "We received a call from Ramlethal earlier. She says she's going to assist at the castle." The puppy jumps down to the floor, running out of the frame. "Why didn't you take her with you?"
"I believe my reasoning was logical." He motions to hold onto one of her hands – the pseudo-contact feels just as real as if she were on RFO with him. "Public opinion of her in the Kingdoms has improved, but I reasoned with her not to gamble a reputation tarnishing in the States." He lets go to loosely cross his arms. "Honestly, it's the same reason why I didn't ask you, Sin, or Elphelt to come with me."
"That's… fair."
"I'd say with how the media's shared your mother's image that her secret's increasingly important to keep."
She agrees with his choice, believing he's made more than enough points. "Aside from us that are in her family and friends circle and the castle's crew, how many more know?"
"Four, being Vernon and his three closest acquaintances."
"Do they know about the other her?" Dizzy raised one of her arms, "drawing" a halo shape above her head. "Jack-O, I mean."
"Far as I'm aware, the only person outside of Illyria that does is Vernon." Despite being his creation, Ky's fairly sure that Asuka doesn't know of her continued existence (let alone how she's been "living.").
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes. What is it?"
"If… if my mother never had that illness and was never put into sleep, do you think we would've met in another life? I wouldn't be my current self, rather I believe I'd have been a normal human."
That possibility's crossed his thoughts a handful of times these past few weeks. "I do." Ky thinks of something to get her to laugh. "Your father most likely wouldn't approve of me in that situation either." It warms his heart that she's found it humorous. "You were there with me when we found him punch drunk on the floor of the liquor storage."
"Should we tell her about that?"
"Probably. That'd be something I'd share at a wedding reception. How's this for practice?" He pretends to hold up a decorative glass, miming tapping the side with a dining utensil. It hasn't been decided or brought up yet, but he's placed himself in the role of best man. "Quite some time ago, Sol went into the castle's food storage area. Broke in, to be more precise, since I found the door in shambles. In any case, I came running when I heard the noise." Ky's already imagining the glare Sol would shoot in his direction – he slyly smiles in return. "He calls it a refrigerator, but as with all of the castle's facilities, it's spacious to the point of absurdity. Even finding someone in there is no simple task."
"This'd make for an embarrassing story."
"That's the point."
"I'll continue it then." Dizzy follows by thinking of herself as the maid of honor. "In time, we found him in front of a wall of 5000 liters of liquor. 84 varieties, all lined up and organized."
"Now, I can't judge the cost of alcohol by sight alone. But I did recognize the bottle he held in his hands: It was the same kind of cheap liquor you can find in nearly any restaurant. I told him he could've at least chosen something worth the cost of repairs to the door. How do you think he responded?"
Both answer the question. "'There's hundreds of better drinks out there, but I always end up choosing this one.'"
"He chose it not for its quality, but because it fits his tastes. After all this time, he could've let go and found someone else. But he didn't. Instead, he waited until my mother returned to his life."
"Exactly. I don't know the full extent of what happened between them and the Gear Maker, but you were the one who suggested we didn't leave after I dragged him into her hospital room. We eavesdropped on their conversation and peeked through the door's window." Luckily for them, no other hospital staff members paid any mind. "I've known him for at least a decade, but I've never seen him do that. Aside from yesterday."
"You mean hug someone and cry for several minutes? He may be a Gear, but there's a human somewhere in there. I still wonder why he showed me mercy back when we met in the Grove. Perhaps it was… how much I look just like my mother?" Her smile fades, with her applying a serious vocal tone. "Ky."
"Yes?"
Dizzy stands up, turns to face her husband, and holds her hands up towards her chest. "I'm asking you to make a promise. Promise me that the four of you will come home safely. I don't think I can run a home of bipedal superweapons and an entire political superpower by myself."
He responds by kneeling on his right knee, holding his left hand out for her to place hers on top of it. Miming a kiss to the back of her hand, he lifts his head to look up at her. Giving a confident smile, he nods before telling her, "you have my word."
[5hrs, 40mins]
It's been around twenty minutes since the first airship landed in D.C., and ten since the tense remote "reunion." Holding a conversation with his father-in-law after waking up from a brief nap, Ky takes a sip from his glass of sparkling lemon water. "How was your flight?"
"We made it here in one piece." Sol pauses working on his weapon to look at the nearest clock, taking note of the time. "The meeting's starting in under two hours, but Aria went off somewhere."
"She did what now?"
"She's off with the only lady Service agent here because her pet gave a palm lick and paw of approval. I'm sure they won't be long."
Ky smiles at the thought of his mother-in-law taking the opportunity to know more people. "Already making friends, huh?"
"The President and VP like her."
"At the very least Vernon knows who she was." He finishes the tomato-mozzarella panini he's been slowly eating for an in-flight meal. "Aside from that, anything seem out of the ordinary?"
"No. It's been eerily quiet. How long until you get here?"
"Five and a half hours."
Sol narrows his eyes for a second before raising one of his brows. "Jesus, Ky. Can't that airship of yours go any faster?"
"Don't push it, Sol. Call me immediately if anything happens."
[3hrs, 10mins]
"Odd…." One of RFO's pilots detects an unusual occurrence. "I can't connect to anyone in the White House."
"What do you mean?" The other asks. They eye the monitor that's stuck repeatedly displaying the flashing red-tinted message [INCOMING CALL]. "That… that can't be good…."
Wholly oblivious to the commotion that's transpired, Ky remains present on the bridge. His personal comm's been online with nobody on the other end – he's trying to think of why. The open call channel relays both Millia and Ramlethal yelling through. "Ky? KY! Answer us, dammit!"
"Pick up, Bambino!"
He furrows his brows before answering, countering Leo with, "will you stop calling me that?"
"I'll stop when we're dead!" This isn't a video call, yet he can tell there's a furious expression on his colleague's face. "We've been trying to contact you! Why haven't you been picking up!?"
He rules out the possibility that he's experiencing technical difficulties. "I keep getting an incoming call but it's not connecting. What in God's name is happening there?"
The volume level visualizer's bars turn red as they reach the top. "That's what we're trying to find out!"
"Someone's taken over," Millia continues. "Brainwashed nearly the entire security force, launched every major weapon the world over, and as of now the status of the rest of the G4 ambassadors are unknown!"
"The rest of them?" Something about that statement doesn't sit well with him. "Who's missing?"
"Vernon," Zato responds. "He's not as you put it 'missing.' He's under the protection of Aria and Sol."
"Mostly her, with Jack-O supposedly fighting as a teammate," Ramlethal shows a frame from the scrap Aria instigated. "Had a feeling she'd be the one to pick fights with intruders. How much longer until you get there?"
"…three hours."
Her voice laces with irritation. "Can't Royal Fleet One go any faster? I can fly quicker than that!"
"We heard you," the pilots added in. "Our normal cruising speed's 500 miles per hour, but let's see if that's possible."
("I hope we make it before it's too late….")
[White House – conference room]
Gunshots continue on the outside, loud enough to be heard despite the distance and walls. Chaos's guards remain in offensive positions, pointing their handguns at the representatives.
"Wh... What is going on out there...?"
"A D1 order must have been issued some time ago. From the sound of things..." Daryl coolly turns his head towards the unwelcome guest – the latter faces him with a sly grin. "I would imagine Chaos has backup troops outside, as well."
[Ventilation system]
"Something tells me you've been waiting for a fight since this morning."
"Well, duh. That was the practical. Aren't you glad I insisted I tagged along?"
"Obviously. Then let me be the one that says you passed with flying colors. And bodies." Echoes of the fire fight's made its way into the vents. Sol doesn't stop his crawling next to Aria – both maintain their proximity behind Vernon. "You hear that? Something's going down outside."
"And there's more. Wonderful." Aria sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If only Chaos could save us the trouble and bring them in our direction." What she said came back to hit her as a bad idea. She's experiencing an early stage of fatigue. "On second thought, I take that back."
"Hey," he momentarily stops to gently pat her on the shoulder. "Don't push yourself too far."
"Let's try averting additional confrontations for now, yeah? Just a little further," Jack-O discloses how little the distance from their current location and destination is. "Then we're home free."
"She isn't a program and she's a navigator too?" Vernon's still curious as to how two people share the same body and the other lives in a piece of magi-tech. "Amazing."
"You're right about the first thing, but the real navi's Aria. She's a two-in-one, literally: fighter and support. I'm just the backup." Looking up past the building's map in front of her, she notice's a bright beam of light. "Everyone, stop…." She listens for a humming noise; it's steadily getting louder. "I'm detecting something."
"Halt!" His voice hushed as he holds his right hand out behind him. A small, white sentry bot walks around the corner into view. Thankfully it's facing straight ahead, ignoring the three living bodies off to its right. "If that thing notices any of us, we're all gonna be Swiss cheese."
"I don't need both of you to tell me that," Sol thinks to himself.
"Don't move a muscle." They all hold their breath – two sweat beads form and begin rolling down from the top of his head – observing the pocket-sized threat from a far from safe distance. Uneasiness slightly rose when it turned its head in their direction, holding it there for three seconds, before returning to face in front of itself again and walking off.
After a relieved exhale, Aria asks, "how did you know?"
"Hm?"
Sol takes the next words out of her mouth. "How did you know that machine wouldn't come our way?"
Vernon looks over his shoulder to smile before continuing to crawl. "My gut."
"Yeah well, your gut's gonna be all over this vent if you're not more logical next time." Aria slinks past Sol, shooting a side-eye before following the lead.
Continuing through the vents, Vernon stops at an intersection. He turns his head in both directions to check if the coast is clear before resuming crawling to the right. Inching towards the next ventilation grate, he peeks through, greeted by the destination. All three stop, with the pair assuming stationary positions across from him. "This is it."
The automated door opens, revealing a bunny guard walking in, with another continuing their rounds in the hallway. Studying him going to the other end, Sol notes, "he's on patrol. He'll be gone soon."
Somehow, an echoed voice doesn't immediately catch his attention; rather what does is Vernon placing his right hand back on the edge of the grate after wiping sweat off. The guard stops in his tracks, "Hm?"
"Thank God he didn't notice us." The bot from earlier caught up; Vernon's panic prompts them to look over their shoulders. "…!"
Approaching the exit, the guard hears another noise from above. "So, I wasn't just hearing things."
Aria moves to the side, keeping a defensive stance with one of her arms up, while Sol faces Vernon again. Keeping his voice low, he reassures, "we're gonna be fine."
"What do we do?"
The bot rotates itself to scan its surroundings. Using one of the decorative gold and royal purple chairs near the door, the enemy takes one and places it underneath the grate, using it as a boost platform.
Sol lifts his right hand up, palm open. "Stay completely still."
"Oh, like THAT's logical!"
It goes on alert after spotting them, hopping in place with its eyes flashing. Hearing the small alarm sounding, the soldier doesn't know what to make of it. "What the—"
Readying himself to spring into action, Sol quips, "sure it is." He grabs the bot, throwing it down against the vent grate. Impact breaks it off with a dust cloud; the frame drops atop the hand that tried to lessen the impact. After the dust settles, the chair's knocked down on its back, where the soldier's pinned down. Out of reactionary habit, Vernon raised his arms to cross in front of him. Activating its firing mode, the sentry locks onto its target, shooting multiple rounds. Sol jumps through the opening, landing sole-first onto the assailant, prompting it to explode. Once the black cloud dissipates, Vernon uncrosses his arms and looks down at the cracked floor caused by one of his bodyguards' actions. Said individual straightens his posture, subtly raises his head and arms up, smiling at his companions. "See?"
Aria watches Vernon's disbelief as he holds his right up to the side of his face. She offers to help him get to the floor level by reaching out and pointing down with an index finger. "Do you trust me?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course, I do." He hears Sol pushing the dead body aside and fixing the chair's position to where it's directly underneath. Holding onto one of Aria's hands and the edge of the vent opening, he exits feet-first, gently landing on the bi-colored furniture. He steps down, moving towards an old operator's chair. "How are you getting down?"
"Like so." She extends her staff to connect both ends against the vent's top and the room's floor, sliding down it like a fireman's pole – she does so upside down, stopping at the right position to lower herself onto her feet. Standing up and shrinking her weapon down to its inactive size, she places it back in her belted pouch. Looking over the row of Old Era workstations, she asks her assistant, "think you can work something out with this?"
"Aha… no?" Jack-O nervously laughs before shrugging. "I actually don't know. Let's play it safe by only having me possess tech that's yours. I claim zero responsibility for what'd happen if I did enter this control console."
"It was just a thought."
As the two approach the door, Vernon examines the pre-ban technology for the calling mechanism – he locates it on the centermost console. "Alright, I found it!"
While he's reaching for the dials to contact potential assistance from Zepp, the door slides open. Sol steps out to see the off-white hallway's clear from any additional presences. "Hurry it up. We can't stay here forever."
"Don't rush me. Unlike you, when I say 'we're gonna be fine,' I mean it."
"Why's that?"
"This is a relic from an age gone by."
That catches her interest. "Our original time? Or before then?"
"Most likely before. I've heard it's more of a wiretap than a telephone."
She notices her partner's stern glare as he folds his arms. "You are so impatient."
[Independent Airborne State of Zepp]
Suspended somewhere in the clouds above the Indian Ocean, a nation built upon an ultra-dreadnought receives an American news broadcast. The reporter's voice echoes throughout the colossal ship's control room. A tall, lithe muscular man donning a highly decorated military uniform stands with his hands behind his back as he watches over his operator crew.
"Though most local civilians have been evacuated, we have confirmed that some have been left behind. We cannot yet speak to the number of losses. Meanwhile, police, civilians, and the military have joined together in a desperate attempt at saving lives."
One operator's busy at his station, typing on the key ring boards, abruptly stopping once a red dot lights up in front of him. He spins his chair to the left, facing his superior. "President Gabriel, we're receiving a call on the emergency hotline."
"Oh? Then why haven't you picked up?"
"Well, it's an unregistered number, sir. So, frankly... There's no telling who might be calling."
"What?" He contemplates the next course of action, deciding on one. "Trace the call."
"Yes sir!"
Back in the White House's air command post, Vernon's still tampering with the call dials. The silence breaks with a static buzzing. "They picked up!"
Due to the tech's age and presumably from the fuzzy signal due to the jamming, the voice of President Gabriel prompts the three to face the speaker. "I don't know who you are, but this is a private line used strictly for matters of national security. If you intend to keep it busy as some sort of childish prank, we reserve the right to take all necessary defensive measures. Within five seconds, we will have your location traced. Within fifteen minutes, the tactical nukes should arrive." As he's unaware that this is an emergency call, his threatening tone causes Vernon's jaw to drop. "If you feel any responsibility whatsoever for the poor souls within three kilometers of you, then don't ever call this number again."
Facing away from his guardians, Vernon's eyes white out. "..."
With his arms still crossed, Sol asks, "how'd it go?"
"...They're going to drop a nuke on us."
"HUH!?"
Following his reaction, Aria and Jack-O exclaimed, "say WHAT!?"
The same Zeppian operator finishes the call tracing. "Did you find them?"
"Yes, sir! But, er... The call came from the White House!"
Resuming the live coverage, the reporter's voice returned. "There's currently so much gunfire around the White House that it could safely be called a warzone. With no information regarding the dignitaries of each country inside, many are concerned for their safety..."
Realizing the (potentially) grave error of his answer, a wave of guilt washed through Gabriel's body. "Er..."
[The Pentagon – control room]
Erica, Goldlewis, and the Pentagon chairman stand together in the middle of the dimly lit room, watching the console with the planetary projection. An operator off to their left catches activity on a nearby monitor. "The White House just contacted Zepp via the emergency hotline! They'll be sharing the call with major organizations from each country. The President... is unharmed!"
A collective feeling of relief spreads across the crew members. Placing itself on the main monitor, a blue online call panel activates in the view of everyone present. The call itself connects all three the White House, Zepp, and the Pentagon into one.
Gabriel relocates himself to his commanding post, taking a seat after the misunderstanding's been sorted out. "My apologies, Vernon. Glad to hear you're alright."
"For now, yes, but we don't have much time. I'm going to tell you all I know, so listen carefully. The White House has been taken over by terrorists. I managed to get away, but the others are being held captive in the conference room. Someone's injured, too. If you can, please, send back-up right away."
The chairman inquired about the intruder. "Do you know who's responsible?"
"Only his name. He calls himself 'Happy Chaos.'"
"Is that a joke? Happy...?"
"He's after Asuka's Tome. And to get it, he needs me to give him access to the PEOC."
Gabriel's next to ask questions. "How many troops does he have?"
"I can't say. They're everywhere, and heavily armed."
"That doesn't make sense... How would they get past security?"
"I don't want to admit it, but most likely..." Goldlewis begins. "The security officers were brainwashed."
"Dickinson!"
"Echo Team and I saw it with our own eyes. I'm sure of it."
"We've lost track of how many we've taken out," Aria and Sol added.
"Come again?" Their addition sparked confusion and interest. "You two have been fighting them?"
"Uh, yeah," she carries on. "What kind of bodyguards would we be if we didn't get into fights to keep him safe?"
"I'm not sure I follow, but do you understand what this means...? In this complex alone...," the chairman continues. "We have over 300 stationed officers."
"It's not safe to stay here." Vernon sneaks a glance at the door, ensuring another bunny soldier hasn't found them. "The moment this call's done we're going to try to escape, but we will need backup immediately."
"Hold your horses!" Dickinson cuts him off. "It's just as dangerous outside as in. Mr. President, I believe it would be wise for you to retreat to the PEOC until backup arrives."
"Not a chance. We can't let Happy Chaos gain access to the PEOC. And you don't have to worry about me. I'm with Sol and Aria."
Amidst the chatter from those around him, Goldlewis doesn't skip a beat. "That partner of his?"
Aria stretches her arms out to fend off her fatigue. "I'm a little tired from taking out a good number of the brainwashed forces, but yeah. Hi?"
"You should've seen it," Sol and Vernon simultaneously spoke.
"We did, though only for a few moments." Erica starts the salvaged replay footage on a smaller monitor to show Goldlewis – a message pane from Zepp requesting to also see the video appears, with her signaling the okay to patch it through. "Do you still doubt her now? While you were out assisting Echo, the Illyrian team managed to catch this with us." She pauses the fight on a frame of Jack-O laughing and kicking a metal sphere towards a bunny soldier – next to her is an angry Aria jabbing a metal pole into another's stomach. "Turns out, the Gear Maker likely doesn't know about her other 'secret.'"
"Oh, haha," Aria nervously laughs. "You know about that?"
He's in disbelief at this new information. Nowhere in the intel about her that's been shared did it say anything regarding another one. "You're two people!?"
"If you don't mind me asking, Ms. Aria – the one in the blue jacket, I presume," Gabriel rings in. "Just who are you?"
She takes a deep breath before responding to both. "To the Secretary: is that important right now? To the President of Zepp: I'm sorry, but I can't disclose that information."
"Yes, she is," Jack-O cuts off the conversation's flow. "But can we all focus here! There's more to it, but everyone here knows the basics."
"Well, I'll be." Reacting in the exact opposite of how they thought, the Secretary's tone hints at how he's secretly rooting for their success. "In that case, head to the parking lot from the West Wing. That should be your quickest, safest route outta there. That's where I'll pick ya up."
Vernon smiles at the proposed plan of action. "See you there. Signing off now."
After the call ends, the chairman barks out the order, "send in the reinforcements!"
[Conference room]
"So," Daryl watches Chaos twirl around on a chair again. "What do you plan to do after this?
"Hm?"
"Will you be reading that book in your jail cell? I can't say I've ever heard of a case in which a single criminal successfully overthrew a government."
"Nor has the White House ever been taken over. There's a first time for everything."
"I just find it a tad curious. You could have made your demands after launching the missiles. Why didn't you?"
He gives a push to spin the chair around another time. "Do you have a name, O King of Illyria?"
"Daryl."
"Alright, Daryl. I'll indulge your question." He rises from the seat, holding his arms open towards the ceiling. "I don't just want to make history; I want to make history fun. I want to write a script for reality and enjoy some authentic drama."
"Haven't you had your fun already, then? Look at the state you have us in." The gunmen still have their weapons pointed at the three ambassadors, with the dead knight unmoved, and the injured hanging by a thread.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I take no joy in seeing people suffer. I want to see them struggle."
"Semantics."
"Not at all! A wax figure and a human being: at a glance, it's hard to tell the difference. But the two are entirely different, no? Let's say my goal was to create the strongest shield ever. How would I go about doing that? By creating the strongest sword. A sword justifies the existence of a shield. Humanity has always exhausted every possibility. That's the exact sort of drama I want to see."
"What was the motive behind your initial goal, then? Without the sword, the shield would be unnecessary."
"The motive? Sorry, to me the very idea of a motive is nonsense. Cause I'm a wax figure, you see."
[Cargo garage]
Peeking around the corner of the open doorway, Sol counts how many external units of Chaos's forces patrol the gardens. Across the gap from him, Aria and Vernon follow his example. "This place seems safe enough. First, I'll take out the guys by the side entrance." There's an enemy inspecting a nearby vehicle. "I'm sure someone will notice the noise, but I'll deal with it. While I've got 'em distracted, you and Aria make for the exit as fast as you can."
"Got it. Wait," Aria's caught what's off about it. "What? You can't be serious."
"I think he is." Vernon's half-sure about this. "Can we pull it off?"
"Brown bears don't give birth to pandas." As they're the only ones in the space, Sol begins to walk out of cover. "If you believe in that, you can believe in me."
"Then what will you do?" To lessen the distance between them, they follow to the tail end of the shipping container in the center.
"I've got unfinished business with Asuka."
She stands next to her partner, reminding him about their agreement. "You're not going alone, remember? Once Vernon's safely picked up, I'm coming back to find you."
Seated atop the crate, Valentine lightly swings her legs, making sure she doesn't create noise by avoiding contact against the metal. "We're a team, whether you like to see it or not."
"I see..." Vernon places his hands in his pants pockets. "Thank you. You three have been an immense help." He takes out and offers his left hand towards Sol, awkwardly leaving it in place for a few seconds.
Sol redirects his attention to looking back around. "I'm not a handshake kind of guy." Aria stands behind him, placing her arms underneath to hold his. "What the—…? Really?"
"Come on, Solly." She smiles, putting on a playful tone and puppeteering him to shake hands. "Don't be like that."
Hearing Jack-O's hushed giggling in combination with Vernon's subtle smiling, Sol fights the urge to break free from Aria's grasp. He knows it won't end well if he does. "I guess I am now."
"This world is brimming with potential. So long as humans put in the effort, they can realize true greatness. Make it a reality. The miracles of nonfiction surpass even the most masterful works fiction writers can dream up." Chaos stops his lap around by standing near the fireplace. An additional crack begins to grow underneath the eagle decoration. "However, if some lady of the lake rose up out of the water and offered you any book in the world... No one would ask for a history book. That's because reality isn't very fun."
Daryl retains his icy stare, speaking not only for himself but everyone else still of their own free will. "Can you truly say that a reality you're scripting is nonfiction?"
He stands on the chair adjacent to the fireplace, assuming a half-squat. "Is a robbery happening on the other side of the world right now 'real' to you?" Adjusting his sunglasses, he leans back before standing upright, then jumps onto the conference table. "We all write the script of our own lives. Our 'reality' is what's written on our own page – nothing more. The important thing... is whether or not we can experience it for ourselves. I'm going to write the history books of the future. And a hundred years from now..." Lifting his right above his head, Chaos grins before snapping his fingers. "Kids won't be falling asleep in class anymore." The entirety of the White House begins rumbling, prompting the representative trio to look up and around.
"Does D.C. get many earthquakes?"
"Even if it was one, I don't think there's been a magnitude stronger than this…."
[Illyria Castle – war room]
"That can't be right…."
"What is it?" Millia looks over Alexis's shoulder, trying to find what's off. "What did you find?"
"The… the sensors have picked up on a colossal heat source within the White House!"
"A heat source of that scale?" Her eyes widen out of fear. "Don't tell me...!"
Walking further into the garage, they all watch bits of ceiling varying in size drop along with small clouds of dust polluting the air. Fissures begin appearing on the surface level through the street's asphalt and lawn's greenery. The White House's perimeter becomes enveloped in a massive black dust cloud, with the rumbling intensifying.
An automated voice echoed throughout.
"AVALON TYPE-1 DEFENSE FORM ACTIVATED. ALL PERSONNEL, STAND CLEAR OF THE TRANSFORMING ZONES."
As they assume defensive stances, Aria turns her back to Sol and Vernon, covering the south in case someone spotted them. Nowhere in her intel on the White House's architecture did it mention anything about that. "Avalon Type-1 defense? Transforming zones?"
Watching the additional containers slide around with the platforms shaking, Sol vocalizes his irritation. "You have gotta be kidding me..."
Vernon follows with his voiced incredulity. "It's real...!" They look back to see the clouds obscuring their view of the surrounding city – the ascension's begun. Stepping past his companions and out onto the back edge, Sol walks through the door seeing what's visible now that the dust subsided. The sight of the relatively lower buildings' rooftops and treetops move further away with each second.
Goldlewis abruptly stops in the middle of the street, watching the form of a colossal spaceship emerge from underground. "Wh-what in God's name..."
"But how?" Vernon stands outside, wide-eyed and in exponentially furthered disbelief. "This really is... Project Tír na nÓg!"
The sections where the East and West Wings were built upon branch out from the center, repositioning themselves as the vessel prepares for transit. Goldlewis starts running to the scene. "Vernon! Vernooon!"
"Tír na nÓg..." The room starts folding in on itself – it's due to the rotations. Narrowly avoiding the shipping container that slid out, Sol rushes to catch Vernon before he falls after losing his balance – Aria grabs onto his other arm.
He nervously laughs while his legs fruitlessly kick in midair, clearing his throat and hearing another container approaching. "Behind you!" Jack-O and two servants appear to stop it, giving enough time for them to bring him back aboard and dodge. Confirming everyone's immediate safety, the three briefly disappear, allowing the object to fall; the very least they could do is hope no innocent bystanders are near where it'll land.
"What in the world is that...?" Turning about his left, the chairman shouts, "has anyone confirmed the president's escape!?"
News aircraft flying around the skyline continue live coverage, avoiding collisions with each other and the surrounding buildings. What's left in the middle of it all is a gigantic crater where the White House once was. "We are continually bewildered as things develop at the scene. The government continues to remain silent, without so much as a word of official instruction to local residents. We've received word that just before this chaos began, there were reports of a suspicious group sighted in the vicinity of the White House. Suffice it to say, the safety of the president and those inside the White House remains a mystery..."
Daryl rises from his seat, walks towards one of the glass doors, and gazes outside; everyone else remained in place. "I must admit, this turn of events surprises me."
"During the war, there were military-industrial complexes the government didn't know about all over the world. And this White House here was built to shelter a small number of the villains who ran 'em. A Noah's Ark of their own."
Running against the sudden shift in orientation, the three safely reach the door leading into the hallway. Fighting strong winds, Sol slams it shut, while Vernon's catching his breath. "Didn't think it was possible to get sent back to before the starting line. You got any more house rules we should know about?"
"Honestly, I'm wondering the same thing..." A soft thud behind him gets his attention. "Is she okay?"
Aria supports herself by placing a hand on the wall. She's slouched with her head down, wide-eyed as her vision goes white. Taking heavy, labored breaths, what she sees glitch shifts from the hallway they're in to the dream environment. Consisting of the bleakly defined battlefield, it changes to the front lawn of the White House, to blank and blinding light, and back again with vivid photographic detail. She drops to her knees while holding the sides of her head, trying to make even the slightest bit of the near future out. The arena's been revealed, with three of her allies clearly defining themselves as Giovanna, Jack-O, and the samurai. What's new is there's an unknown additional body with something coming out of their chest cavity behind I-No.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to hate myself. There's no point in holdin' a grudge about something. All of my choices. I could've quit. I'm just a cold metal.
I didn't know that I could see the sky with my eyes closed. And a moon to talk to. The world will spread everywhere if I want it to. Tell me more, how many miles is life?
There is nothing wasted about our lives. The snow falling in spring. Moon hangs during the day. One with self and time. So what! Let's get to the bottom line. If so, what do you fight for?
The remaining half of those also fighting alongside her remain mysteries.
.dnalb os gnihtemos hguorht stuc tI .dnats tsal rieht rof elims yehT .sehcrot tcidrev gnitnioppasid a ,sesproc erom sgnirb ecitsuJ .yfitset ot elggurts yehT .yks gninrub eht sllif esioN
!derevocsid eb ot tey si taht dlrow a si ereht wohemos tub ,yadyreve htap siht klaw I ?os ti si eil yb noitcivnoc eht si erehT .thgir lla tuo emoc noos lliw ti ,ytnelp deussi ssenippaH
.evila wolg eht peek ot nac I sa raf sa gniog m'I ,erif elap eht gniraeB .sroloc ym htiw senihs daor sihT .sdrow fo xulfni na ni ,noom ylenol eht rednU ?raef ot evah I od tahw oS .edirP .htiaF
"A massive airship… with an obelisk in the courtyard…." She blinks multiple times to return to reality. "Of all things, this is the first one to come true…."
"…Aria?" Sol gently asks as he and Vernon get close, trying to calm her down – her breathing stabilizes. "Is this… part of your vision?"
"How do you know that?"
"I think I saw it too. Did you see everything?"
.rehtie ,llafnwod ym ton er'uoY .wal eht ton er'uoY .em ton er'uoY .lla s'taht ,sweiv ruo evah tsuj htob I dna uoY / If your voices will fill the sky, I'll take the wasteland. But I won't be alone. Never!
"I… I can't answer. I know how today ends, but I don't know what happens from now until then." Her brief vision around the unconscious body laying by itself shifts from blank light to a de-powered Frederick. She's unaware of how the reversion occurred. The possibility of his reversion connected to the newly seen body crosses her mind.
.niap eht lla gnivael yb esol ot rewop eht tsol eW .wolg mraw eht ni yawa gnidaF .ytivarg yb del wons ekil ,ylwolS .nwod gnillaf era eW .ehtaerb t'nac I dna sduolc eht evoba nwod ro pu on si erehT
Fading away in the warm glow
One of the younger operators reports from her desk on the command level. "The White House has completely left our line of sight."
Goldlewis walks in, immediately barking a question at her. "What about radar!?"
She acknowledges his presence from the weight of his footsteps. "I've checked, but they seem to be using stealth magic."
"So, we have to rely on our own eyes..." His voice hardens. "Send up anything that can fly! Don't let it out of our sight!"
Leo's voice rings through, indicated by the call panel. "Secretary Goldlewis."
"Second King."
"Do you have any information on that aircraft?"
"Last time I checked, the White House couldn't fly!"
"So, Millia was right."
"Do you know something?"
"I do. If you're going to pursue that thing, you'd better be careful. It's not exactly a luxury or commercial airliner."
"Secretary," she breaks through his train of thought. "One of our planes has visual contact!"
"It does?"
Several meters away from the White House, a fighter plane keeps its distance. The pilot communicates their current status. "This is Firefly 3, reporting in. Unable to establish communication with Avalon. I'm going to attempt an in-air landing."
"No, wait...!" Amidst the chatter, Goldlewis fails to warn them in time. "Don't get too close!"
An automatic cannon resembling a cross between a gatling gun and ballista rises from a section on the Executive Residence's rooftop. "...What is that thing?" Aiming directly at the plane, it fires, taking out the side engines – critical damage sounds the emergency alarms that drown out the pilot's screams as it comes crashing down, scraping a distance before coming to a fiery stop.
"We've lost contact with Firefly 3..."
"Is this a nightmare...?"
[Presidential Emergency Operations Center]
Asuka maintains his composure and paces around the central meeting table. "How could he have known of Tír na nÓg? More than that, how is he able to control it?" He stops in his tracks, preparing to cast a counter spell. "Chaos has to be..."
Hiding out in one of the kitchens, one of the counters with three pots acts as a cover point. Two of their comms go online, illuminating a pale shade of blue. Vernon's is the only one that doesn't. "A call? Do we have reception now?"
"No," Sol keeps his voice down. "This is a magic signal intrusion... Only one person could pull this off... Right, Asuka?"
"True." On the other end, he's smiling in relief while his summoned circles rotate. "Are you three alright?"
"I wish. They've got us locked down. We're here with Vernon."
"Good to hear. You rescued him, I presume? Keep him safe at all costs. If the enemy truly is after the Tome... We cannot afford to let him have it."
"There's something I gotta know. Can just about anybody read the Tome?"
"They cannot. Only me... and Chaos."
Keeping up his involuntary job as the lifeline for everyone else in the room, Daryl inquires, "just what are you?"
"You really wanna know?"
"That man, Chaos... He's my teacher. History's first and strongest magic wielder... The Original."
Resisting the urge to grab the nearest kitchen knife and jam it into the floor, Aria clenches her fists. She remembers the day Asuka and Jack-O went into Leo's office and revealed Ariels's true identity as the Universal Will, along with her creator. "He's who created that… that thing that attacked me! And you did NOTHING to help, despite everyone else present urging you not to override my mind!"
Word about her accident hasn't reached anyone in the White House aside from Vernon, but he's able to put two and two together. "…So, you met Her, have you?"
"Yeah, unfortunately!"
"I'm sor—"
She ends up setting fire to a nearby pot; the intense heat melts most of the metal down to a puddle. "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! I don't want to hear it! That should give you a clue as to what I've retained from the merge!"
"Aside from your other self's aggression?" One dreadful answer comes to mind. Her screams from the sabotage echoed through his head. He feels his heart skip and the past century plus of regret weighs him down. "Impossible… you don't mean the —"
"Man, she's furious with you as is!" Sol cuts him off. "Unless you want her to give everyone here a demonstration and send us crashing down to Earth, do NOT finish that sentence!"
[".mih tsniaga ti esu os ,eromyna terces a ton s'tI .flesruoy fo erus os dnuos uoY"]
("You shut up too!")
"The Original..."
"The man who introduced the world to magic?!" The Chinese Federation rep's shocked expression says it all. "But—"
"The Gear Maker's teacher. The author of the 'Tome of Origin.' The father of magic. And the savior who opened our minds and spearheaded mankind's revival when the world lost its science. Only one of you is telling the truth. Is it you, or these documents?"
"Neither. Back when I was the person you and Asuka knew... This... and this," Chaos points to his heart, then to his forehead. "Weren't broken yet."
Sol doesn't fully believe it. "You sure that guy's your teacher?"
"His appearance and demeanor have changed considerably... But his aptitude for magic is undeniable."
"...Great, so we're headed for the worst case scenario."
"Headed for?!" Vernon almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. "Is that some kind of joke? How could things get any worse than they already are!?"
"Chaos's goal…." Aria starts off. "Is to make I-No complete."
"I-No..."
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Sol shares a piece of info they already know. "Chaos already has I-No's other half."
"There's no way..." Asuka pauses. "My teacher would never do such a thing..."
"We figured it out earlier," she interrupts him. "It's him as her other half or me saying goodbye again to stop this, and it sure as hell won't be me."
An inkling feeling that she's not the only one in that body crept back. Just how does she know about one of the possibilities to complete I-No? "You know about that too? That's definitely out of the question."
"Fine. Then what do you think his next step is?"
He doesn't have an answer for that. "...Alright. I'll give it some thought. Meanwhile, please try to stay safe."
"This wouldn't be a bad place to fight, but we don't have an escape route, either. We might end up moving, depending on how things shake out."
"I'll pray for your safety."
As the call's ended, an uneasy Vernon heads for the kitchen's entryway. "Just how much worse can this get?"
A white and blue commercial class airliner that reads SkyAir cruises through the clouds. One of the two pilots detects something far off in his line of sight. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"I can see what looks like an aircraft up ahead. Are we on the right route?"
"Let me confirm." The co-pilot activates the comm console. "This is TH10-8. We have eyes on an unidentified aircraft. Requesting information, over."
A voice from the command post they're connected to shares, "that's not right. There are no flight plans that should be overlapping with TH 10-8's route. We're not showing anything on radar, either, over."
"This is the captain speaking. Respectfully, that's impossible. I can see it with my own two eyes. It's a massive aircraft. At this rate, we're at risk of impact. Requesting evasive assistance, over."
"That's odd... Is there any response from the TCAS or ADS? TH 10-8 should be the only aircraft in your vicinity."
"Holy shit..." his jaw drops. "It's the White House! The aircraft ahead of us is the White House!"
"Come again?"
"Taking evasive maneuvers!" Hands on the controls, he pulls the handles towards his body, narrowly missing a collision. "Was that... Air Force One?"
"The White House nearly collided with a passenger craft," an operative near the wall of radars shares. "Backup is on the way."
"Good. The PWAB will be issued orders in cooperation with Zepp." Goldlewis orders, "change your communication channel to 7.1 to confirm."
"Confirmed."
"Understood." Three fighter jets fly in formation, pursuing Avalon. "Still," the leader asks. "The Post-War Administration Bureau?"
"I get it, but right now, those ex-assassins and company know more about the White House situation than we do. Save your complaints for later. Any updates from your end of things, Illyria?"
Disguising her voice with a filter to avoid any unnecessary panic if someone recognizes her, Ramlethal answers, "we're workin' on it."
"This is Millia Rage, director of the PWAB. Do any of you have a visual on the White House?"
"Naval Officer Dokken reporting. Gargoyle 3 is tracking their signal." A request to share the tracking tech pops up on the bottom right corner. The source says the one who sent it is from Illyria Castle — it's approved.
"Thank you, Dokken. If that craft is armed, make sure it maintains a distance of 500 meters. I'll put it plainly: the White House is a fortress. It's equipped with a system that detects aircraft transponders and automatically intercepts. Stand by outside of the effective range and avoid contact until further orders."
"Roger that."
"Now that we've located it," Zato brings up the immediate problem. "We face a new issue. We're unable to act until we make contact with the inside, or it runs out of fuel and crashes. We need an aircraft that the White House cannot see."
Gabriel has a solution. "I believe we could be of service on that front. Though it's not a suitable craft for hostages, and I can't guarantee it will make it in time."
"It's better than sitting here twiddling our thumbs," Leo assures. "Please send it."
"Right away."
"We'll work on what we can from our end." Millia points to the crew off to her left. "Plot the White House's route based on its current vector from Washington, D.C."
"Chief of Staff Erica Bartholomew has given us access to their confidential files. With international cooperation, we will now proceed with our analysis of the black box." Zato sifts through the shared information. "Hopefully, we'll find a clue."
"Here's to hoping." She mutes her comm out of precaution. "Ramlethal?"
Following the example by lifting her mic upward to mute and disabling the filter, she asks, "are we on a first-name basis now?" Watching the older blonde nod her head, she gives her a small smile before turning back to face the screens. "Already a few steps ahead, Millia."
Placing his hands atop the nearest surface, Goldlewis inquires of the surrounding workers, "what's the damage report?"
The woman standing to his right turns towards him with her hand hovering above her left ear. "Initial reports say 48 police and soldier casualties. But that doesn't account for the numerous civilians caught up in all this."
"Was this a political group? Some single ideologue?"
Cracking under the pressure of the situation and from her own guilt, Erica covers her face with her hands – she balls them up into fists. "Illyria tried to warn us. I downplayed the danger because I-No was in custody." Her voice almost cracks, yet she maintains a tearless, somber tone. "These deaths are my responsibility."
One of the few things in this world Dickinson truly hates is seeing one of his close friends exhibit sadness or a similar emotion. "I don't know who they are, but the enemy is in there." His voice softens to lift her spirits. "This is no time to beat yourself up."
She can't bring herself to look in his direction, doing so only through the corner of her eyes. "We've worked together for a long time. I know you could do this on your own."
"Only if blamin' you for all this made me twice as efficient." He lightheartedly laughs before turning to face away again. "Listen, if workin' together for a long time builds trust, then there's no one you should trust more than yourself." Stroking his beard, he thinks about their special welcome guests. "And those two – three? – risking their lives to keep Vernon safe… I can't believe I'm saying this, but Aria and the other her have earned my trust."
Erica's and Goldlewis's comms activate, acting as the receiving end of a broken static voice ringing through. "He—, can –ou –ys hea— me? An—one?"
Tensions temporarily alleviate as she recognizes who it is. "Gio! Of course, she wouldn't fall under Chaos's influence. You're still on your own free will, right?"
"W—l, ye-h!" Rei's heard barking in the background. "No -y I'd le- that t-ing ta-e c-n-rol of -y m-d so ea-ly."
"Where are you?"
"Eri—! Go-dl-is! -ank god yo-'-e able to he-r me. Li—en, I'm at the — -kzzrtsh-"
"It's no good, she's cutting out. That jamming's still in effect." Goldlewis scans the row of monitors in front of where he's standing hoping someone's found her. "Can anyone get her location?"
"Dammit!" One bangs their hands down. "I had it, but she just dropped off the sensor…!"
"Pardon the interruption. Was that woman accompanied by a wolf-like creature?"
"That's an affirmative."
"She's alright." By using a combination of experimental heat tracing tech and what's on Gargoyle 3, Ram's effectively utilizing her resources in their favor. "By my tracker, she's somewhere in the centermost area of the White House's executive residence building, currently making for the exit on the first floor."
"That's a relief." He exhales easily knowing Gio's okay. "Thank you kindly, Miss, erm, what was your name?"
She stops herself from answering, glancing over to Leo and Millia before responding. She thought they'd prevent her from sharing that info, but they gave her the okay to do so. "Ramlethal Valentine."
First, the odd couple of Sol and Aria are in the White House protecting Vernon, with a third bodyguard in the form of Jack-O, and now the last threat to humankind's working cooperatively with them. Right now, he's hoping he doesn't suffer a heart attack from the absurdly strange choice of allies. "Ah hell! You gotta be kidding me! Of all the cards in the deck, we just had to get her in the mix!?"
"You must be terrible at card games if you're dissatisfied with what you were dealt. Just be glad she didn't tag along with Ky," Leo remarks.
"Why didn't the First King show up with them in the first place!?"
"He isn't there yet?" He checks the status of Royal Fleet One, taking note that the aircraft's still in transit. "Bambino…!"
"No!"
"I heard my name. You called?" Ky breaks his radio silence. He's been listening to the multi-channel exchange between the Pentagon, Zepp, and the Castle since it began. "My channel's still open, you know. Thanks for connecting me, Ram."
"That's enough, all of you!" Erica raises her voice to get everyone involved to quiet down. She huffs to collect her thoughts before continuing the conversation. "King Kiske, are you aware of the White House's status?"
"That it's a flying fortress that'll shoot down anything if it gets too close? I am well aware. My pilots were informed and we're keeping our distance." He sighs before continuing with, "it'll delay our ETA, but prevent more unnecessary casualties."
"Miss Valentine, can you provide us with status updates?"
"I'll share what I've found." She leaves the file analysis to Zato as she reads off her notes. "Multiple knocked out agents and soldiers in the hallways." She changes the scan to focus on one area. "Location: conference room. One deceased, one critically injured, no additional harm or damage so far. The remaining representatives from Illyria, Oceania, the Chinese Federation, and knights are alive."
"Are you able to locate Sol, Aria, and Vernon?"
"They're in the West Wing headed towards what appears to be a cargo garage?" Traces of a fifth individual inching towards the quartet appear – the systems fail to gather any data on them. "Uh oh."
"Uh oh?" Erica doesn't like the sound of that. "What did you pick up now? Did you get an update on Giovanna?"
"No… this is a different lifeform…." Ram works up the guts to inquire, "is this Chaos person working alone?"
"Not that we know of."
Someone on the far-left end of the control room exclaims, "I think I've picked something up!"
Relocating to a new secluded position and hiding behind a container that didn't fly out earlier, Jack-O notices a blinking icon in the image of a white and red demon mask appear on the radar. Sol and Aria instinctively scan the surroundings for an additional presence, while a bead of sweat rolls down Vernon's face. Her voice laces with fright as she asks, "…we're not alone here, are we?"