LES MUSICIENS DU MONDE
A CROSSOVER STORY
2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016
Outside Perspectives: Recap
As the title suggests, this is a recap chapter. Beginning from the events from Arc I to the current arc. Why had I decided to do this now as opposed to the beginning of every new arc since this story's inception? Timing, pure and simple. And since conceptualizing with friends who have contributed to this story and I'll be forever grateful to them, we have come to a conclusion regarding the principal group in question, the orchestra itself. And when my friends gave their analysis on the events so far from an outside perspective, it was eye opening to say the least. So here it is, the sum of its parts of what occurred after certain events in Arc I and II that led up to the beginning of Arc III. But not from the POVs of the main characters; these are outside perspectives.
APRIL 2005, WEEK FOUR
Philadelphia, PA, USA
[Amity High School, Amity Park, Friday, 12:35AM]
All of the teenagers and faculty started screaming, but there were some teachers who tried to instill a sense of calm. The former Children could feel something was wrong and in the middle of the chaos, discreetly headed for the main building. Wilfredo and his friends noticed and followed them, even when their teachers yelled at them to come back and stay put. The same went for Danny and his friends and pretty soon, the former Children, the musicians and the day-to-day ghost fighters headed for the crossfire.
Danny hovered up the flights of stairs with Sam, Tucker, and Valerie tailing him. Their ectoplasmic weapons were charged and ready. But they also wondered what was going on with members from the orchestra, or the former Children for that matter. Once on the second floor, the team saw the former pilots taking out the soldier constructs in quick fashion. Too quick in comparison in how they would. Even if the soldiers weren't real, the realness of the situation would cause them to still hold back. But to see the pilots taking them out and taking the guns, felt very intense. Seeing Wilfredo doing to same thing also had them viewing him as a very distinct intense guy compared to his own friends. The down and dirty styles their classmates demonstrated were at odds with Danny's own or even Sam's. Valerie can do this but only if she were forced to. But seeing the second nature of these guys in front of them as they now head on up to rescue their professor told him a lot about the orchestra: they were no nonsense. They ram straight inside and did not take concern for their safety. Only the objective and if these apparitions were real people, he doubted they would behaved any different. That sent a shudder down his spine.
JULY 2006, WEEK TWO
Beirut, Lebanon
[Le Royal Hotel, 6:23PM]
Ahmed Said was on the balcony of the hotel, visiting the orchestra members who haven't left the city just yet. The other international members left, so that left only the Americans. Being around them shattered any notions of Americans he may have had. It helped that the family in charge are Lebanese themselves, making things easier to relate to them. From Alberto's stories of his own childhood in a rough neighborhood before moving to Philadelphia, or Zane's stories of New York, or Wilfredo's in Brooklyn, it showed him the diversity and the downtrodden nature of the world's sole superpower. It didn't matter if it were America, Europe, or out here in Lebanon: there were those who had a lot and those who had very little. Then they heard explosions to the south. It relieved him that it didn't hit his home or anyone he knew. But those who ran stores he and his family go to, were at risk.
The American members took pictures of fighter jets in the sky or helicopters. The guy they refer to seemed to have had accurate information on where the bombs will be dropped or who was getting out. Ahmed then knew with the sun setting, he had to be heading home soon. He didn't want to leave the orchestra, the group he had gotten to know. And when his picked him up father, another feeling came through. He wasn't sure what it was. But now, he and his father were heading south, into the hot zone of Beirut via the 51 Highway.
"أب. (Dad.)," he spoke, "أحب هذا الأوركسترا حقا. أعلم أنهم آمنين وسوف يذهبون إلى ديارهم قريباً. ولكن أنا أيضاً أشعر بقلق بالغ بالنسبة لهم. لماذا هذا؟ (I really like that orchestra. I know they're safe and will go home soon. But I'm also very worried for them. Why is that?)"
His father didn't reply as he was driving fast, heading back to their neighborhood. His mother would be worried by now and when there was a sense of safety, his father replied.
"لأنك كما تعلم منهم أدركت أنهم في الحقيقة ليسوا مختلفين عنا. (Because as you got to know them, you realized that they are in fact no different from us.)"
Ahmed looked at his dad who replied and then added with this, "وهي تعمل على حافة بركان. والآن، ولعلهم يرون الحرب لأول مرة، ربما أو لا، فإن لديهم الآن سبباً جديداً يدفعهم إلى المضي قدماً في استخدام الموسيقى كحصان طروادة. (They operate on the edge of a volcano. And now for them to see war for the first time perhaps or not, they now have a new reason to push forward with music as their Trojan horse.)"
He didn't understand his father, "ماذا تعني؟ (What do you mean?)"
His father sighed as he glanced at him quickly and shifted gears to rush through an empty highway. He then responded once he felt he was okay for a few moments.
"أنت شاب. وكنت طفلا عندما احتل السوريون البلاد. عندما كنت في عمرك، كان عليّ أن أعيش في ويلات الحرب الأهلية. وقد مات كثيرون، وفر كثيرون منهم، ولكن الباقين ظلوا في بيوتهم. وكانت هناك ثلاث طرق للعيش والبقاء. إما أن تكون قد توجهت إلى مكان إيواء، أو كنت تحمل مسدساً، أو قررت تقسيم الحرب إذا كان لديك المال والوصلات. (You're young. And you were a child when the Syrians occupied the country. When I your age, I had to live through the ravages of the civil war. Many died, many fled, but the rest stayed. There were three ways to live and survive. You either headed for shelter, took up a gun, or partied away the war if you had the money and connections.)"
Ahmed listened to his father who continued. He looked out the window and can tell he was closer to home now in record time. He silently prayed for his new friends and his mom back home. His dad then got his attention.
"يأبني(Son.)"
"نعم، أبي؟ (Yes dad?)"
"ويسرني أنكم انضموا إلى أوركسترا جديدة من أميركا، مع أعضاء دوليين، ومع قائد لبناني لا يقل عن ذلك. إنها ستكون فرصة عظيمة لك. ولكنني أريد أن أذكركم بشيء تعلمته من ذلك الوقت المظلم الذي يتكرر الآن. (I'm glad you have joined a new orchestra from America, with international members, and with a Lebanese conductor no less. It would be a great opportunity for you. But I want to remind you of something I learned from that dark time that's repeating now.)"
"ماذا -؟ (What?)"
"إن الشباب في النفوس قد يجدون أنفسهم وقد وقعوا في شغف العصر. بغض النظر عن تحيزهم الشخصي على الكثير من الأشياء. تذكر ذلك. (Young souls can get caught up in the passion of the times. No matter their personal biases on a lot of things. Remember that.)"
Ahmed blinked and slumped in his seat, "أه والد أكيد شكرًا. (Uh, sure dad. Thanks.)"
Not knowing how to take it, he stayed silent for the rest of the trip home. As the car drove on, bombs were heard across the city near the airport. Dangerously close to his home. But since many places have bomb shelters there, he would be all right. And so would his family. He wondered also if his new American friends would make it out of the city and head home safely.
OCTOBER 2007, WEEK FOUR
Philadelphia, PA, USA
[Amity Park, Tuesday, 10:23PM]
Danny was home and done his patrol of the city. Ghostly threats have calmed down and surprisingly haven't spiked when he was in the hospital. The visit he had from Wilfredo was what he would not admit, needed. Now he was on the lookout for knights who put him in the hospital in the first place. And if his old acquaintances now in New York are being tailed as well, then this new predicament was a lot larger than he ever had anticipated. Now all he needed was to get his friends on track.
"My friends," he muttered as he had his hands behind his bed, lying down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling.
"Tucker," "Sam," "Valerie," he added and then he thought of his sister. He wondered if she was all right on her date. Then his ghost sense activated.
He jumped out of bed and transformed. His body has transformed from a lanky, slender form, to now being taller and broad shouldered. His muscled now visible underneath his ghost fighting uniform. Which now has a white cape, designed to accentuate his invisibility form to hide even from ultraviolet light. Which can sense his body heat when his parents invented a new set of goggles on their ghost hunting escapades and helping him from time to time.
He turned invisible and flew upward, passing through his house and now levitating above it. He then sees a horse with wings flying towards him from a portal with the Fright Knight. The ghostly knight looked as intimidating as well on his flying steed and his dark armor with green and purple accents. His sword sheathed in its scabbard and held the reins of his horse.
Danny was about to fight but the knight held up its hand, "I have not come to fight, Sir Fenton," he spoke in a deep resonating voice.
"Sir? Uh…I'm not a knight."
"True. But your actions as of late would make you a candidate for knighthood in the olden days. And you fell in the hands of declared knights recently. The Forever Knights."
"You know them?"
"I know of them. And your mystic friend in New York is also aware of them. Spying and taking out perceived threats to their activities across the country. Using not steel but weapons from beyond the stars."
Danny was now confused as he levitated in front of the knight. He then straightened his posture and crossed his arms, "Funny; knights with alien hardware are a new thing."
"Considering you're a Halfling fighting what is basically your kin, are you this surprised," Fright Knight asked as his horse neighed a bit.
Then Danny sensed a portal opening and out comes his ghost dog, Cujo. It no longer held its puppy form, but instead a full-grown, fierce guard dog. The dog levitated, but stood in mid-air on its four legs next to Danny as he pet its back. The dog calmed down but still on guard with the Knight present.
"I am here to do my rounds on All Hallows Eve, Sir Fenton. Allow me to fulfill my duties to watch over the spirits in this region before heading home. You have my word."
Danny looked at him and with a silent nod he agreed to the knight's request, "Have a party."
The knight chuckled, "This is not a feast I am familiar with. Simply, I am following my duties. But I do understand your modern speech," he said and held the reins of his flying steed.
Danny chuckled at the ghost's lack of understanding of modern colloquialisms. But he let it slide, knowing over the years, the two have developed respect during this time of year. And since the defeat of Pariah the Ghost King, the two are two of few who instill order on ghostly matters.
But then the tone from the ghost went from cordial and polite to one of caution. The tone was the ghost's own. But it also had a quality that was surely not his own.
He spoke, "Take heed. Those whom you have befriended have darkness in them. And in time will they face three trials: one for money, one for anger, and one for shame. That is not the end. A messenger will come and with him, righteous fury. His debts will be paid. And the eight shall be forged in fire and light."
Then the knight ceased his words and looked at the Halfling warrior before him. He felt his head through the armor and his winged steed reacted to his brief moment of no control. The knight calmed it and looked at Danny with a mixture of confusion and silence.
Danny when he heard this was confused, "What?"
"I bid you a good night," then the knight held the straps of his horse and flew off into the night. Danny, now alone, with only the knight's words ringing in his head like an old song.
He groaned and the ghost dog licked its face. As the two then left to do their nightly patrol before bed, there was a presence below. A robed woman the color of midnight was gazing upon him and the knight through her mask. The mask was wooden and painted azure. The shadows around her seemed darker but coincidentally, the area seemed quieter wherever she walked.
DECEMBER 2007, WEEK THREE
Moscow, Russia
[Tuesday, 4:23PM]
Inside the halls of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, it was a madhouse. Since the delivery from an anonymous woman who handed them the hard drive with all of the evidence to shut down the GBCC, it was now a turf war so to speak between the Moscow Police, the Moscow Criminal Investigations Department (MUR), and the infamous Federal Security Service of the Russian Federations (FSB), formerly the KGB. No one knew who the woman was, all surveillance footage around the Lubyanka were altered or erased by a sophisticated computer program. All they knew was it was done by several outside hackers, who none of them can trace as of the moment. The hackers who ever they were used servers across the planet to mask their digital signatures, supplemented with alternating algorithms to further make their detection difficult. But all the bosses knew in a boardroom knew is this, global media was having a field day.
The Major General of MUR was frustrated over the news, knowing his own teams tailing the bank executives in Russia were thwarted by a third party was embarrassing, "Должны ли мы просто позволить этим анонимным людям войти и делать за нас нашу работу? Неужели они так жаждут славы, чтобы помешать работе полиции? (Should we just let these anonymous people walk in and do our job for us? Are they that glory starved to interfere with police work?)"
The Assistant Director of the FSB agreed but was much more calm. Even though he was reading the article about the loss of money for the bank's customers. Billions lost and even if the corrupt executives were arrested, the people who trusted their money, all of whom were rising entrepreneurs in the new tech market in software and digital applications for computers, not to mention the economic fallout starting to affect the global economy was going to make everyone here busy for a while.
The assistant director was accompanied with an officer from the Economic Security Service branch of the FSB who then spoke, "Поскольку многие законы были нарушены, наши самые большие последствия здесь являются еще одним дополнением к катастрофе западных рынков. Это не российская проблема, а глобальная проблема. Эта чушь с ГБКК придает дополнительный вес обеспечению внутренней экономической безопасности. (As many laws were broken, our biggest fallout here is another addition to the disaster of Western markets. This is not a Russia problem, but a global problem. This GBCC nonsense is adding more weight to handing domestic economic security.)"
The Major General then spoke again, "Я считаю, что в этом вопросе мы должны прийти к консенсусу. В противном случае эта страна пострадает. А инвесторы, прибывающие для развития нашей экономики, будут искать возможности в других местах. (On that, I believe we have to come to a consensus. Otherwise, this country will suffer. And investors coming in to develop our economy will seek opportunities elsewhere.)"
"Учитывая это, я думаю, что что бы мы ни решили здесь, это будет пользоваться поддержкой президента и премьер-министра. (With that said, I'm thinking whatever we decided here will have the president and prime minister's support.)," as put by the assistant director of the FSB.
The room was silent with only the sound of the heater, and several others shuffling papers, and the scribbling of notes. What followed was a discussion that eventually led into the evening. None left until it was nine o'clock. Elsewhere in the city, with the orchestra hunkering down and relaxed that no one has traced them for their actions, elsewhere in the city was their contact, Yuri Ivanovich handling another matter.
[Gorky Park, 9:30PM]
It was snowing and the cold was biting. But for Yuri it was another night. He waited for someone to come with tidbits of information. Then she came, a brunette with glasses and a heavy coat who traveled from Poland. She held a manila envelope under her arm with a big bag with her belongings. She handed it to him and he opened it. He read it twice and looked at her, "To jest prawdopodobieństwo, że coś się stanie? (This is the probability of what's to come?)"
He asked in Polish and the two began to converse in the same language.
"Tak. Już kilka wysoko pozycjonowanych starszych i tylerów Forever Knights zaktualizuje terminy wysyłki zaawansowanej broni w Stanach Zjednoczonych. (Yes. Already several high positioned elders and backers of the Forever Knights will upgrade the timelines on shipment of advanced weaponry in the United States.)"
"Aby wzmocnić swoje fortece, nie mniej. Prawdopodobieństwo, że młody bohater z zegarkiem znów się nastanie. (To fortify their fortresses no less. And the likelihood of a young hero with a watch will re-surface once more.)," he asked the Polish woman.
"Wierzę. Zawsze istnieje wzorzec dla tych rzeczy. (I believe so. There is always a pattern to these things.)"
"Istocie. (Indeed.)"
Then he added, "A to, co niedawno grupa ta rozpoczęła działalność w tym banku, będzie później wróciła do życia. Czy rozumiesz? (And what that group had started recently with this bank will reverberate years later. Do you understand?)"
She nodded and added cryptically, "Dla tej ziemi uwielbia się gniew. (For the land loves the stranger.)"
With both sharing a mutual silent understanding, the two parted ways and she headed for the train station via a taxi Yuri hailed. He waved a goodbye to her and as he walked, he encountered a skinhead pointing a gun to him. But Yuri took care of him by taking the gun, ejecting the magazine and used the butt of the gun to whack against the man's head. Since Yuri wore warm leather gloves, no fingerprints would trace this incident back to him. Just part of the tradecraft he thought.
As the snows continued to fall around him, not even he noticed a woman in a wooden azure mask and a black robe looking at him from a distance. If anyone were observing this, she would have disappeared in the blink of an eye.
JULY 2008, WEEK THREE
Bellwood, TX, USA
[Ben's Home, Wednesday, 1:34PM]
Journal Entry 789 (…joking. Capt. Kirk from old school Star Trek)
To be very honest, I am beginning to question why Danny likes them. Them meaning Les Musiciens from New York. Sure I can get them helping out during the Highbreed Invasion. And sure, they took care of the Forever Knights in one night. Normally I would call this a lucky break. Hell! I would kiss the girls there (many of them are hot) for helping out. But something is bugging me (in more ways than one) about them. Sure they helped out, but they came off as selfish and didn't care about us (us meaning, my friends, my team, grandpa, and me). They just came in, stormed their way onto our turf, caused some covert chaos, used giant robots and then left.
Ernesto was tight lipped about his cousin and seemed loyal to family (I can respect that). But then the three pilots of those giant robots were so…(fucking up their own asses). Especially that girl Asuka, who asked me whether or not I'm selfish for offering them a spot in my team (she should be so lucky to be honest. I mean I was polite). Maybe I should have learned tact as Gwen said, but still, having heavy guns like them on our side would be great. But to have them running around the world is well…dangerous. I've seen this enough to know they would run out of luck.
Les Musiciens from Danny's point of view are trying to do stuff we cannot do anymore (it's not like having a life is not on my mind. It is!). Sure, going on tour and play music is cool, but classical? I mean, who listens to that these days? Sure mom does (she's cool like dad) and Gwen's mom (bitch). But still…I don't know. They are good but also come off as jerks. I can't even imagine what made them like that.
(They need to take a chill pill).
Ben puts down his pen and closed his notebook. He found it a habit to put in additional thoughts. To be more honest in the privacy of his journal, his way to vent emotions he normally bottled up. But he also noticed moments where he would free write in some entries, which have started when he put on the Omnitrix again. Or when he assumed his grandpa died. Or even when Michael took advantage of his cousin, Gwen. He felt this was healthy to vent thoughts and emotions in a medium where he felt embarrassed in front of his cousin and his former enemy now turned friend, Kevin.
He checked his alarm clock, "Ugh, well time to work out a bit."
He changed clothes into white t-shirt, green shorts, white running sneakers, and headed out of the house. He decided to take a simple jog and do some other exercises at the park. When he started running he noticed some local cheerleaders from school doing a carwash for the locals. They waved at him.
"Hey Ben! Keep it up!"
He waved grinning and he noticed their tight bikini bodies, glistening wet with water and soap. He gulped and tried to stifle his urge to run to them and help, but his thoughts did reflect what he really thought.
'One of these days…what Julie won't know, won't hurt her. I've saved the world over and over. Why not have a little fun with one or two or…No stop it! I am not like that anyway! But still...'
His wandering eye didn't stop for him. As the afternoon got hot he took off his shirt and proceeded to workout in the park. He did some pull ups, push ups, abdominal crunches while hanging upside down, some kata moves in karate, savate, and some Queensbury boxing he picked up from his grandpa. His tan got more olive in tone during the summer, which was normal for him. His toned physique got attention from passersby, girls his age and even young women in their early twenties who make casual observances. And while working out, he took extra glances at the toned bodies of girls jogging or doing Pilates on the grass. This gave him extra motivation to push harder and increase his pace.
He then drank water from the public water fountain. He sighed and hanged his shirt at the waistband of his shorts. His skin tanned and mildly burned by the sun, glistening with sweat, and his face reflecting the stress is worked out of his system. His walk home was relaxing.
He arrived home and went to take a quick shower. Once he finished minutes later he noticed Danny in his room, "Busy day?"
Ben smiled, "Yeah, sure was. What brings you here?"
Danny sat down and crossed his arms, "It's about the orchestra."
Ben frowned slightly, "I think we talked about that already. They're their own thing and I can respect that. It's those pilots that really piss me off."
"I know."
He turned around as he approached his closet. Surprised by what the older hero admitted, "What?"
Danny sighed as he saw Ben dressing himself in his standard attire, minus the green jacket. So as he averted his gaze, he explained himself, "I know them long enough to know how they work."
"Like what?"
"Like what we saw them do in the desert; or at least those who fought alongside us. Don't you get it?"
Ben looked at him as he puts on a fresh t-shirt to go with his jeans, "I think I do. They're all messed up in the head."
Danny gave him a stern look, and Ben felt a bit shamed. Danny calmed a bit and continued, "It means whenever we can, we keep an eye out on what they do next time. I'm pretty sure after this they'll take a long break and would probably not step on our turfs when it comes to hero business. But if that day ever does come, you call me directly. Understand?"
Ben cautiously nodded. He noted what the older hero had to say and knew he was right. In fact, he wouldn't trust that orchestra as far as he could kick his soccer ball across the field. He'd rather face down Vilgax three times in a day than to trust them with anything important.
Meanwhile, far from Earth
Planet Augstaka
Reinrassig III of House Deralla the new Highbreed Supreme is going over new peace talks on the various planets their species had conquered on galactic genocide. Their parasites were being redacted and healing the various aliens from the infections wrought from them. But the road is a long one to establish better ties with the various civilizations across the galaxy and establishing peace talks with the Galactic Council. He and others in the High Chamber where the council convene to review their actions are taking a look at the events of the Earth invasion and those who fought it off. They observed Ben Tennyson's team, the Time Walker (Paradox), Azmuth, their ships, their DNAlien mutants, their captains on the ground, the ghost warrior, the mystics, and finally the EVA Units. The fifteen minute window of three mecha units decimating 50% of their armada and one colored purple letting out a roar before getting in position to throw a lance, the other two guarded the purple unit's east and west flanks, the video feed they accessed to see the human pilots in various expressions.
One Highbreed scientist ordered for the video to stop and asked in a guttural tone, "What is that?"
He pointed out the glow in the eyes of the pilots. Something no one noticed and perhaps not even the three in question. The one with red hair glowed a menacing blue, the one in the black unit had its eyes glow a feral gold, but the one in the most powerful unit; the seemingly innocent looking boy had his eyes glowing a diabolical shade of red.
"These three need to be observed and their units closely. If the Plumber authorities do not do something to curtail that energy, they will turn their eyes on them for interfering in their fight against us. And stopping this pilot from launching that lance."
The scientist spoke as he pointed to the three human pilots and pointed at Shinji's picture in particular. He exercised caution and added a foreboding warning for what may come.
He added with, "Those mechanical demons can conquer one planet of that size in a matter of days. What are the possibilities if the three here decide to lead an army on a terrestrial or galactic scale to satisfy their inner bloodlust?"
The council looked on in horror, fascination, and shockingly, in awe. Whoever these three were, they all silently prayed the three won't come seeking absolution and finishing their bloodlust in the guise of justice for seeking to conquer the human home world.
NOVEMBER 2008, WEEK TWO
London, England, UK
[Whitechapel, East London, Thursday, 4:45PM]
Connor and Edward were in their safe house and would stay there for some time to get their bearings. He planned for this eventuality ahead of time since Ben Tennyson had let that dragon escape, and when the news of GBCC's downfall shocked the world. Their safe house was located in Bow, in close proximity to Bow Church. Their safe house was Spartan to say the least, but it can house four people if needed. With only Connor and Edward his former squire, it was roomy for the both of them. But since being interrogated by Scotland Yard, and constantly on the lookout for news, they only left their abode to get fresh air, refurbish their refrigerator, or do nightly patrols to see if anyone or anything was out of place.
Edward was depressed as he looked out the window, "I can't believe I am saying this, but I miss our castle in America."
Connor heard this and laughed, "I never understood why our brothers in arms would build castles and fortresses in America. Canada I can perhaps be more convinced of. But in the United States it seemed just an anachronism."
"How can you say that," Edward was shocked by Connor's blunt statement. Which only got him a dry expression and an arched eyebrow.
"Loyalties shift when things go tits up, as our cousins here across the pond would utter. But you and I are of that cloth of medievalism. Romance sure in chivalry, but in reality, struggling to maintain an order that has long lived its worth."
Edward was silent and looked out the window again, "What of our training? Our code? Our mission?"
"Are you not listening or letting this sink in, boy? The knights are finished! You best remember that!"
He exclaimed which caused the young man to wince, still a teenager and pretty much new to the outside world. Sure he's seen alien activity in the US, in and around Bellwood. But when it came to human society as a whole, he was told time and time again to never mingle with the common people. They were one of the last of the chivalric orders in the world. Them, their rivals in the Brotherhood of the Chalice, Order of the White Lotus in the Middle East, deemed heretics by Sir Patrick in his order, as well as a more obscure one in Southern Europe, more foreboding than the former, known as the Order of the Scorpion. And when he saw that young man who rushed in to rescue his cousin, him and his mystic allies, and that damned orchestra who rushed into the castle, esoterics were real. They've always have been.
"Is that sorceress in Ben's company a mage or mystic," he asked out loud, knowing expecting a response from Connor.
"Neither. She's a pretender, with blood from beyond the stars. She knows esoteric arts, but is an untrained savant. No more, no less."
"So then are the abominations as the aliens?"
Connor was silent and then worded it carefully so Edward can understand; "They are for better or worse, the guardians of this world. Without them, this world would fall prey to even worse threats than Ben and company. It was they who mastered and killed the dragons. But they did not come for the dragon in our keep."
"Why not?"
"I overheard one speaking to Sir Patrick regarding the dragon imprisoned in the keep. Patrick wanted his aide for an esoteric's power and allies can slay dragons, much less one. But the esoteric declined."
"Why?"
"I believe the woman said, "It is no dragon. It does not have the power of dragons of old."
"But that dragon was in our care and watch for a thousand years!"
"Indeed. But to this woman, it was no dragon. And with that she left the castle keep and returned to wherever her home was."
Edward listened and was slightly disturbed by this. Nearly as much, as the shock of losing his home and now fleeing to the UK. To have heard of an esoteric to dismiss the dragon that Ben had let free was unnerving.
'What other powers are lurking in the sunlit and shadows of the world? I shudder to think.'
NOVEMBER 2009, WEEK FOUR
London, England, UK
[Bayswater, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, Monday, 3:34PM]
Natalie Crawly was in her home overlooking the Kensington Gardens Square Garden. In her home, which was a two bedroom flat, furnished, clean, modern chic, and her sitting room were backup notes and interviews she uploaded to an external hard-drive to continue her work. For the past year since the fall of the Forever Knights organization, and months before that was the fall of the Global Bank of Credit and Commerce. She looked over the event that happened in Moscow, interviewed the jailed top bank runners, and the news from the time. Based on the extensive research into two events, she concluded one thing; none of it made sense.
She gets up from the sofa with her work spread out on the coffee table. She picked up her digital recorder. She pressed record and talked into it:
"The downfall between the two incidences has two very distinct patterns. The first was covert, planned out, patient, shrewd, and for lack of a better word, elegant in corporate destruction. The second however is an entirely different matter. For one, it was carried out in haste, all within a twenty-four hour period. Why? Why did this second event with a solid connection to the now defunct bank was carried out in a fiery manner?"
She then paused for a moment while the recorder kept going. Then she continued, "I have several ideas on whom or what group was responsible. For them to be covert, but explosive; able to hide from the world, but in plain sight before everyone of us."
She then stopped recording and set the device down atop several papers and notes. She went to the balcony window and lit a cigarillo. The cool autumn air refreshed her senses while she savored her light. The ideas, the evidence, and the men she had interviewed, all of them were blindsided by this. She racked her brain for any sort of leeway into an insight. This continued as she looked below at the square and people walking about. As the embers of her cigarillo gently burned and as she puffed to keep it alight, a clue came to her.
Below was a group of college-aged students taking pictures of the area and having a good time walking. She watched them walk around and heading for presumably, age appropriate venues of entertainment. She wondered if this had been her clue all along, "To hide effectively, you must be in plain sight."
She then stepped back inside, closed the balcony window, and sat back down. She set her cigarillo onto an ashtray and picked up her digital recorder and pressed record:
"A group to hide in plain sight, are the very ones who will shape the world in the coming decade. College students. And at their fingertips, technology to level the playing field for economics, labor, human rights, welfare, health, the environment, and scores of other issues across the planet."
She then paused and felt a surge of new energy to continue her work in a new direction and concluded with, "I've got work to do."
DECEMBER 2009, WEEK ONE
Ribble Valley, Lancashire, England, UK
[Ribchester, Wednesday, 3:45PM]
Connor and Edward were in perhaps the last safe house available to them as knights for the past year. But even in this village, some distance away from the nearest city and certainly far from London, they were still too exposed. Since departing Newcastle and surprisingly thanks to Ernesto and his family in helping them to escape their assassins, they were far safer than they were a year ago. However, one year of inactivity was not enough to quell their worries. They have to move to Wales as part of their final push for freedom. As Connor was confident in making this plan work, Edward had final doubts.
"But we're still in the UK. Why can we not head for South Africa, Australia, or New Zealand now to avoid assassins," he asked as he packed his few belongings.
"Because they are expecting us to!"
Edward winced at Connor's outburst. Connor did not verbally apologize, but his facial expressions indicated his regret for his anger. So Connor explained as calmly as he could.
"Wales would serve as our final push for freedom. The old Commonwealth is vast and even though the British Empire is long dead, old remnants of the Knights' strongholds are still spread out. Some countries more than others; take India for example. The Knights picked up and left when India gained independence and separated into two countries, leading to the formation of Pakistan. South Africa also is a no go with it only serving for a time as a black site."
Edward nodded as he let his former master continue.
"Africa as a whole is out of the question. Not stable enough. Canada surprisingly was not a spot for the organization. The same went for the northern United States. The Union organization, where magi and mystics of the New World made a semblance of authority and organization, disallowed our presence beyond the southern states. So that leaves two countries; can you guess?"
Edward nodded cautiously, "Australia and New Zealand."
"Correct. The British Virgin Islands, Jamaica, the Caribbean were never considered. The heat and limited land size were detrimental to our operations and mobility."
"I think having castles in the southern United States also limited our mobility," Edward scoffed mildly and Connor belted a loud laugh.
"Ha! There is intelligence in your head after all!"
Edward rolled his eyes and then commented, "I would rather not have to live through heat again. Texas was intolerable."
Connor held up his hand and walked out of the bedroom. He returned moments later with a rolled up map. He laid it out on the hardwood floor and used books as paperweights to keep it in place. He pointed to the southern part of Australia and then the circled outline of New Zealand. Edward then looked over the major cities. Sure they would blend in with the crowds. But knowing his experiences and those in the knighthood, large cities were never comfortable for him or anyone else in the old order. And their mannerisms would stick out more in modern cities. So their own safety is to be close to cities, but far enough away from too many prying eyes. He did look at the map closely and New Zealand is looking favorably in his eyes. But also too obvious due to the fantasy franchise based off of Tolkien's works filmed there and popularized the islands.
He then looked to Australia; a country and continent whose climates would perhaps rival the United States in terms of extremes. Not to mention the number of poisonous insects, arachnids, and snakes sent shivers up and down his body. But then he looked to the island to the south, Tasmania. He considered it and then motioned Connor to the island, "What about here?"
Connor looked at it and then at Edward. He grinned and ruffled the young man's blonde hair, now grown out in waves to just above his shoulders, "Not bad. Not bad at all."
Edward felt satisfied that he at least got some praise from Connor. Perhaps their time here and then the path they'd create from here to their future home is not so hopeless after all. Just as long they did not have any missteps along the way.
APRIL 2010, WEEK ONE
Bristol, England, UK
[Avonmouth Docks, Monday, 9:23PM]
Sergeant McKinney was driving his Vauxhall Astra Mk6 with Natalie in the passenger seat. They arrived in Bristol two days ago and since then were awaiting the arrival of their contact, who had called McKinney's precinct two weeks prior. He secretly notified Natalie to come along and leave her phone at home. Their only modes of communication with the mysterious contact were calls by landlines, email, and letters during those two weeks. But all were short with vague instructions on where to meet. So this was arranged two nights before, a rendezvous at the docks.
Natalie looked out the window before asking, "I've been meaning to ask. Have you ever had those movie meetings with informants at the docks before?"
McKinney laughed, as he turned left he responded, "Think less of movies and more on the questions you mean to ask the contact. No drama, no cameras, just the questions. That's all."
She nodded and sat up straight. Within the next few minutes they arrived at the docks and they see a parked car alone in the darkened car park with only the street lamps illuminating the space. Their car stopped about twenty yards and both got out of the Vauxhall. Natalie grabbed her bag and nodded to McKinney. Natalie sees the car and the contact came out. McKinney searched him, standard procedure, and once done Natalie approached him and began to ask her questions.
After the meeting, she and McKinney went back to their hotel, packed up and headed out of Bristol. As it was advised by their contact and McKinney agreed. During their trip out of the city, Natalie felt fear and the constant need to look to her side or behind to see if any car or person was following them. It was nerve-racking to say the least and at the most, now saw the risks involved in work not in her immediate field. So they bolted out of Bristol using the A420. Their drive was fast and McKinney was cursing along the way, trying to suppress the fear that built up from that contact.
After some time they found solace in the town of Faringdon. They checked in at the Old Crown Coaching Inn. They checked in and got a room with two beds. Once they calmed down they turned on the TV and the two sat on their beds. With the TV on and a music talent show to drown out their excess anxiety, McKinney first spoke.
"Now you see why this part of the work is not enjoyable."
She nodded, "Indeed. I need a good drink," she said and he nodded silently. So the two headed down to the bar that was still open.
The two ordered pints of ale and they sat in silence at the counter. But after a couple of sips, she was the first to break it, "What that man told us is going to take a lot of work for me to put down. But considering what we dealt with these past few months, I don't want to put you at risk with your superiors."
He brushed off her concerns a bit, "Not too worried about that. But from now on, you avoid following me closely on the field. Otherwise, the risk increases. And we don't know who else would be knowledgeable of our activities."
She nodded, "And what about your superiors in Scotland Yard? No doubt they have repeated in avoiding this case or myself lately."
He chuckled slightly, "Don't take it as an offense, but you and your work are welcome distraction from the everyday drudgery. In any case," he drank his ale.
"I'd say this evening is reason enough for a shag," he offered and she smiled coyly at him.
She drank the rest of her ale, "You're right. But no shagging," this got her a heart laugh from the sergeant.
"Then an evening of drinking to drown away our fears," he offered and she clinked his glass with hers, "Cheers."
[Faringdon, Tuesday, 8:23AM]
The two were eating their full English breakfasts, resting their hangovers a bit. Natalie and McKinney were also skimming their shared newspaper, in this case The Times with any more information about the Knights or anything else. They found none, except for a peculiar incident in Lisbon, Portugal of an altercation that left some damage and the reports of 'magic' was peculiar to say the least. That headline looked sensational to her, but what did catch her eye was the near assassination of Thomas Mountbatten Cloade in York. He was the final key and she wanted to interview him. Unfortunately he was still recovering in the hospital and needed time to recuperate.
She showed the article to Sergeant McKinney and as he read it, he looked at her and they both knew they needed to interview him. But at the same time, doing so would pull them into a deeper conundrum they had no business in. Natalie's research already had them paranoid, and approaching this man in York would increase their shared paranoia more. Natalie sighed as she sets down her fork and knife, with a look of frustration on her face he knew. They were close to solving a mystery, but this was as far as they'll go.
"I want to go home," she said, sounding defeated.
"You sure you want to go home," he asked, but only to see if she really wanted to go home, or her drive for this research was stronger.
He got his answer when she responded, "I'm sure. I'm tired and this research has consumed me for nearly a year. You've too kind to put up with me," she said.
He smiled lightly, "It's never a problem miss. But I would heavily advise that we cease this investigation for a while. We can reassess later. How about it?"
She nodded silently in agreement. The two finished their breakfasts and once done, they went back upstairs to get their things and checked out. Once in the car, they got back on the A420 and headed back to London. Wordlessly, they recollected on the information Natalie collected and from there, she had to work on her hypothesis in secret and try to get on with her everyday routine from now on. She and McKinney had no choice. They nearly fell into the abyss. They won't repeat that mistake any time soon. However, the future didn't brighten. The horizon eastward turned dark with a storm looming. Then the weather report came in. It was going to rain.
MAY 2010, WEEK TWO
Rennes, Brittany, France
[Opera House, Friday, 8:45PM]
The music of Symphony in C Major, composed by Georges Bizet and performed by the Orchestra of Brittany was wafting in the main hall. Everyone was enjoying the music being performed and somewhere in the seating arrangement were members from the Brotherhood of the Chalice. The few members who have targeted the remaining Forever Knights across the world, Mei Chen from China, Stephanie Sheh from Singapore, Wu Chow from Vietnam, and Alonzo Steel who was an American expat from Japan. Horace Chua from Malaysia is on assignment in Sri Lanka and Rajesh a Gurka from Nepal is in the UK handling matters for several families regarding the liquidation of the Knights. There they sat enjoying the music and when it ended, intermission was had and the audience got up row by row to head for the restrooms.
While the third piece of music will be performed, the four members headed for a near secluded spot before speaking amongst themselves about the progress made since the beginning of the year.
"Several orders are accepting our new position. Even the secretive Order of the Scorpion in the Iberian Peninsula is making moves to have others there accept the paradigm shift."
Alonzo Steel spoke which then prompted Stephanie to shed light on a developing matter, "The Order of the White Lotus in Turkey, Syria, and the Kurdish region are willing to have meetings with our organization's head."
Wu Chow however was curious about Rajesh, "Why isn't Rajesh here again? He almost never misses a meeting with any of us."
Alonzo sighed and explained, "Again, he had an assignment of infiltration and fulfilling his duties as retainer. He's infiltrating the government of the UK to weed out the last resistance from the Forever Knights, and retainer for the Rathbone Family in Kent."
He then added, "And Horace is in Malaysia to quell an insurgency between a Triad group wanting to put down stakes there, and the local esoteric group wanting their heads to be displayed in public. It's a delicate matter."
Mei was surprised more by what is going on in Malaysia than Rajesh's absence, "The last time that happened with any sort of significance," she spoke with a slight accent, "Was when the British were there and used head hunters to track communist insurgents in the jungles."
"Well is ain't that bad sweetheart. Just a nuisance for Chua to slog through," Steel reassured her.
Mei nodded. But then she brought up one more thing that Horace Chow showed her on the way to the opera, "We have noticed things even as far east as Vietnam and China. Graffiti along the base of our safe houses with the phrase, 'Beware Old George'," she said.
"Who is he," Chow asked and continued, "I've heard the stories that he was a famous Forever Knight, or one of its founders. But I figured he's an old legend."
Steel nodded to indicate that it was no legend, "It's sole founder. He's a legend all right. And very real."
Stephanie looked at him with a concerned expression, "And you were lucky you lived. You faced against him while on assignment in the Balkans. What has curious was this: Why did he let you live?"
Alonzo looked at her and the rest of the group, "To pass on the message to others in our organization. He lives, he is active, and he's everywhere and nowhere. All knighthood organizations are out looking for him and hunting him. But he's a legitimate threat. He has superhuman strength and above human endurance."
"In other words, he let you live because he could have killed you at any time," Chow said and Alonzo nodded in confirmation.
The group was silent and before they knew it intermission was over. It was time to return to the hall to see the rest of the program. They opted to leave, but since safety is in numbers and using the crowd to blend in, they decided it was prudent and safer to return with the rest of concertgoers. And not let those ticket purchases go to waste. Good music was good music.
SEPTEMBER 2010, WEEK ONE
Tokyo, Japan
[Nerima, Wednesday, 3:34PM]
Tomohiko Akazawa is relaxing in Shakujii Park, sitting on a bench that faced the man made lake. It has been a week since his trip to America, a week since meeting Shinji there with his friends and those from the university (Tokyo University of Fine Arts). Tomohiko was proud of his successful recital in Los Angeles, and acknowledged the success of LMM's first operatic recital. He took in the summer air and despite the heat and humidity, and him in light clothing consisting a light colored suit for the summer, he rejoiced in this moment of peace. To hear the ducks quacking and the soft breeze emanating in the leaves above, he was calm.
But he also had his mind wander back a bit to Shinji. Since meeting him at college, he wanted to compete with him. Push his own musical technique and in doing so found his style that is as different as his rivals. It's the yang to Shinji's yin. His own style was technical prowess and keeping his emotional dynamics subdued, but appealing to the general audience. It was a style that was more or less the standard in Japan, a contrast to Western cellists. Shinji's style however wasn't so much 'Western' in his observations. But, it did have an emotional depth many in his age had never expected. There was a dark emotional color to his playing that showcased his experiences and pathos in a non-verbal way. It was an unpolished technique that reflected his more independent audience, but paradoxically, near effortless. To some of his fans, who watch a lot of Detective Conan say that Tomohiko is the 'cellist of the east' while Shinji is the 'cellist of the west'. Amusing as it was, he never put much stock into it. But he found it flattering nonetheless.
He got up and wiped the spot where he sat. As he walked home from the park, he got a phone call. He took out the phone from his blazer's inner pocket and answered.
"もしもし？ (Hello?)"
"赤澤さん、こんにちは。お元気ですか？(Hello, Mr. Akazawa. How are you?)"
'ダマスク。私に連絡しても、このプロンプトはシンジが出ないと思いました。(Damn. I didn't think Shinji would be this prompt when contacting me.)'
Tomohiko walked at a gentle pace and spoke to his rival, "元気です。アメリカからの飛行機は、不用意だった。温室からのあなたそしてあなたの同僚はまた同じ飛行で3 日前に飛んだことを知るべきである。(I'm well. The flight from America was uneventful. You should know, you and your colleagues from the conservatory also flew on the same flight three days ago.)"
He heard Shinji chuckle, "同じフライトスケジュール。同じ平面ではありません。 (Same flight schedule. Not the same plane.)"
"真鍋氏も同じ違いです。 (Same difference, Mr. Manabe.)"
Tomohiko said and he had to admit, smiled to himself as he spoke to Shinji. It continued when he asked, "それでは、3 週間後に世界で次の旅をする場所はどこでしょうか。(So where is your next excursion in the world in three weeks time?)"
"スウェーデンに向かいます。北欧諸国に初めて進出することをお約束します。 (We would head for Sweden. First time for all of us to venture to a Nordic nation, so I promise to bring you back something.)"
"真鍋さんの面倒をみたくはありません. (I don't want to trouble you Mr. Manabe.)," Tomohiko crossed the street on a green light, keeping to a polite tone laced with cheekiness.
"ほとんどない。今はライバルであるため、少なくともプレゼントを買わなければなりません。(Hardly. Since we are now rivals, I have to at least buy you a gift.)," Shinji responded with an equally cheeky and happy tone.
The two continued for the rest of the way. Tomohiko despite himself was enjoying the conversation with his rival. He worked it out already that maintaining a professional rivalry would be beneficial for the both of them. Thus logically, creating a professional friendship later. Shinji was known in Japan as he had known, but unsure of it he has compared to his own. Shinji's fan-base revolved around students, alternative culturists, outsiders, and the cosmopolitan. His own was equal to Shinji's but more traditional audiences in music conservatories, high society, and more importantly, the standard repertoire. Shinji and he represent the opposites of the spectrum in stylistic performances and audiences. But he hoped with enough time, the two will give everyone in Japan and perhaps, across East Asia something to talk about.
He wondered about this as he finished his talk with Shinji.
'友人の1 人が、これがマンガなら、学校の環境でクラシック音楽の「プリンス」になると言っていました。私達は限界に互いを押し、美しい音楽を提供する学校の競争相手である。それが鳴るようにチーズが、多分それへ真実がある。(One of my friends said if this were a manga, we would be the 'princes' of classical music in a school setting. We would be school rivals who push each other to the limit and deliver beautiful music. As cheesy as that sounds, maybe there is truth to that.)'
He chuckled a bit and headed home. He decided a quick workout before dinner and further practice before bed would be in order.
OCTOBER 2010, WEEK FOUR
London, England, UK
[Bayswater, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, Tuesday, 9:01PM]
Natalie since that meeting in Bristol has finished her work. But she never published it. It's kept safe in her home and only she and McKinney know of it. Since then she was living her day-to-day life as uneventful as possible. At the moment she was in her home as she watched the news with a story about Philadelphia on Channel Four. It was being called the 'Firestorm of the Century' and with good reason. With fires and explosions along the ports and neighborhoods, and reports of anonymous individuals with the local hero Danny Fenton battling rogues throughout the week; this had echoes of what happened before. She was having her evening tea before bed and sat down to watch. The previous accounts of magic, paranormal, ghosts, magi, mystics, the mysterious contact from Bristol was right all along. She was on the right track all along. But even if she were right, she felt a sense of dread. She didn't want to be right.
She then put mute on the television. She then called her confidant since the mess started, Sergeant McKinney of Scotland Yard. She last seen him in April when past investigations and hypothesizing on those responsible for the past incidences. She waited for him to pick up and then he did:
[Southwark, South London, 9:04PM]
"Are you watching the news," he was blunt with him at his flat in Southwark, wearing his robe and holding a warm glass of milk.
He sat down so he can focus on his conversation with Natalie. He watched the news on mute so he can speak with her over speaker, "I am and it seems my ideas are coming to fruition."
He heard her voice and sighed as he sets his glass of milk down on the table, "They are. But with these people may or may not about to come out of the woodworks. Very soon in my opinion."
"But even if they would, where would they strike?"
"Now isn't that the million pound question to ask. Look, we've come this far together and I would support to the best of my abilities. But to be honest, we are near the end of the line in our work. Our positions will not allow us to go further than this."
"I know. I know. But this is so frustrating how we are so close and my ideas with your help in fleshing them out over the year. I hate to see it all go to waste."
"Then don't let it. Send it to someone who can do something with it. The group you proposed who is both hidden and exposed needs to know that whatever their intent was, noble, cannot be done so with impunity. And traditional law enforcement agencies are out of the question. Mi5, nope, Interpol, forget them, and don't get me started on our American cousins across the sea."
After a moment of silence, he heard her respond, "I know one person."
"Good. Let me know how it pans out."
He hung up and drank his warm milk in silence. Meanwhile with Natalie at her home, leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. She wondered if the decision she was about to make is the wisest of decisions. She and Sergeant McKinney have been working on this in secret for so long, to then bring in another person is risky and if others found out, she is finished. But her decision was made up in her mind. She knew who to call, or rather, write to.
NOVEMBER 2010, WEEK ONE
London, England, UK
[London Borough of Haringey, Wednesday, 2:23PM]
Natalie was parking her car on Birchwood Avenue in Muswell Hill and heading to see her uncle down the street. She clutched her bag and Sergeant McKinney was with her for a sense of protection. So while making her way to the home, she adopted the habit of looking around for anything suspicious. And since McKinney was an officer, he was licensed to carry his badge and handgun in case anything was to happen. She then found her uncle's place with a wooden gate and she with McKinney entered. At the door she rang the doorbell. A man in his early 40s with a build similar to McKinney's but slightly slimmer at the waist with few wisps of grey along the sides answered the door. The two greeted him and Natalie thanked him for allowing this to happen.
Minutes later with tea served for the three, Natalie's uncle looked over her research in relative silence with occasional questions asked. McKinney filled in the gaps with what was going on with Scotland Yard since last year. As he looked over the research, the interviews, the evidence, the tapes she kept regarding the GBCC and the Forever Knights, he was astonished by the level of work his niece was able to do. He looked at her and Sergeant McKinney and finally spoke.
"Sergeant McKinney I have to say thank you for assisting and looking after my niece."
McKinney nodded in acknowledgment. Her uncle then looked at her with a slightly serious expression, but also a look of pride, "Natalie, you have risked your safety for a hunch on a possible hypothesis on had transpired. I would call this foolhardy. But also I am proud of you for sticking to this hunch. You have managed to perhaps, figuring out what sort of group had done this."
"Now it's wondering what they will do next? Where they would target? Who are they? How are they organized? And when to anticipate their movements?"
The man nodded, "All great questions, but no answers will come from traditional sources. Or from trusted officials; no, this needs an outside force to quell and teach a lesson to this unknown group."
Natalie and McKinney were surprised, and asked him in unison, "Who," which only got them a grin and a cryptic response, "Professionals."
A bit later, Natalie and McKinney left her uncle's home. They were assured sooner or later, the results of her writings would bear fruit. But it will not be visible in the news, their offices, or any form of British government. The two did not take solace in that. Natalie however trusted her uncle and convinced McKinney to do the same. However, it will go about, was left to be seen.
ONE YEAR LATER
DECEMBER 2011, WEEK TWO
Kent, England, UK
[Rathbone Estate, Tuesday, 3:20PM]
Alastair Rathbone was in his study and it's been only a fortnight since he's come home from Sairgoth from across the Door. He was working and the invitation to attend a concert in London in a month's time, and the prospect to reunite with Eda is laid on his desk. The grandfather clock ticked away the minutes as he wrote letters between the magi office in London, the Department of New Technology, and looking over the intelligence of two or more groups attempting to cause an incident in the country. Then a knock came on the door and it was his valet and the family's retainer, Rajesh.
"What is it?"
"The go ahead to grab the people attempting to rock this country," he said cryptically and held a manila envelope.
Alastair arched his left eyebrow and grabbed the secret contents. A Natalie Crawly wrote the work, but the name on the envelope was to his recollection and learning the ins and outs of Britain, an associate with esoterics across the British Isles. As he read the contents, he was astonished how close the woman was in figuring it out. The GBCC incident, the downfall of the Forever Knights, and to add to it, the Firestorm of Philadelphia; what it revealed to him was that the possibility of a group, no more than 20, all college educated but started younger was responsible and using their group (humanities, arts, etc.), mobility, and age to appear and disappear.
He then picked up the memo that contained the intelligence regarding the same thing. He looked at both papers held in each hand. The final pieces of the puzzle began to fit. Then in an act of serendipity, the ticket to attend a concert of LMM in London around January, then Philadelphia where they performed as well. The cities they performed around the GBCC incident, and the night the Knights fell. He turned serious and when the face of Eda came to mind, sadness filled him. But knew in a couple of weeks, justice will be planned out, but also a grander plan will be carried out. However, that is for another time.
To be continued
Author's Note: I decided to get rid of the first note I posted a couple of years ago for this arc. I felt now the story has more or less followed that plan to the letter, but also branching out in areas that it is going beyond the original plan. I have accepted it and from here on out, expect a story that is organically growing as a tree, with roots protruding through the sidewalk for good measure.
Since the lock-down due to COVID-19 is still going on in the US while the E.U. is successfully reopening, I want to wish everyone of you well and good health. It is July already by the time this is uploaded to this site. In addition I am going to open a new account on AO3 in the very near future. Take note, this is just a recap. New material will come shortly.
Read, review, critique, and I'll see you readers very soon.
Edit: Had to fix the Russian dialogue due to all of the words were packed together when I uploaded it from Word to here. I apologize for that.