In the Shinjuku ghetto, the train that Alistair had gotten onto slowly made a stop on the tracks, nowhere near a station. The young man noticed the ruined buildings, seeming to be a different part of the area altogether. As Alistair was about to get off the train, he patted the conductor on the shoulder.
"Thanks for the lift. Sorry about you not getting any passengers, lately. You deserve plenty of pay." Alistair spoke with sympathy to the conductor.
"Ah, it's no problem. I'd prefer it if the natives of this country were happier. But with all the martial law stuff going down, dropping on their defenseless heads...parts like this just become more and more common. Like Britannia's sucking the life out of it." The conductor said, looking at the desolate area of Shinjuku.
"Man, Britannia caused all this? Greedy and haughty, all in one package. Can't leave well enough alone for even a millisecond." Alistair said, clearly not happy with Britannia's methods and imperialistic nonsense.
As Alistair was about to get off the train, a sudden purple mech jumped onto the tracks, aiming its assault rifle at the train. This mech was a Knightmare Frame, known as a Sutherland. Alistair could see the resemblance in the face of the Sutherland between it and the Glasgows he saw, years ago. Because it was a military machine, only soldiers were allowed to pilot these Knightmares.
"Attention, police suspect! I'm a soldier of the Britannian military! Come out with your hands in the air, and you will be handed over to the police for questioning and a court trial!" The soldier yelled over the speakers of his Sutherland.
"A Sutherland! Why does my luck keep getting so bad!? That's the goddamn military, right there!" The conductor was panicking, figuring he was going to die for aiding Alistair in escaping the police.
"No problem, I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll talk him into a proper fistfight, or somethin', to get him out of that big metal toy of his." Alistair, despite all the guns pointed at him earlier, despite the mech pointing a gun that could turn him into red mist being pointed at him, currently, showed no fear in the slightest. He just kept smiling, determined to win.
"Good luck... Oh, wait, I never asked... Where are you from?" The conductor was still scared of the Knightmare outside of his train, but still had enough courage to ask Alistair that question.
"Me? I'm from America." Alistair spoke honestly, answering the question.
The conductor's eyes widened upon hearing that answer. It looked like he knew precisely what Alistair was talking about, and all fear had disappeared, being replaced with a rather tranquil anger. He reached into a compartment at the front of the train, and gave Alistair a belt of grenades he had confiscated, some time ago, when some terrorists forgot them.
"Give 'em hell." The conductor firmly wished Alistair luck in dealing with the giant threat outside.
Alistair nodded, and put his hands up, holding the belt of grenades in his left hand. He was slow in his exit, wanting to make sure there weren't any panic shots. He could hear the Sutherland actually tense up as soon as he walked out, as if it were about to shoot.
"Easy, easy. I just found this on the train. I think some kind of extremists left it behind by accident. Think it could be used as a means of tracking them down, if there are fingerprints on it?" Alistair spoke with plenty of weight on his words, choosing the route of persuasion rather than intimidation. He figured that handing the soldier the belt of grenades would give an opportunity to actually deal with said threat.
There was a brief pause, as the soldier contemplated on what to do. Then the cockpit opened, the soldier in the usual blue pilot suit of the Britannian military stepping down for a moment to take the belt of grenades from Alistair. The transaction was slow and steady, with Alistair having a plan without the soldier realizing it.
"Very well, you've made a pretty good point." The soldier remarked, as he got back into his Sutherland as swiftly as he got out to take the grenade belt, the cockpit closing and shoving the object onto the floor without a second thought. His voice once more came from the speakers. "However, you're still under arrest. Especially after resisting arrest the way you did."
"True, true. But, uh, quick question, good sir." Alistair spoke up, and showed his left hand to the towering Knightmare, which had a grenade pin around his index finger. "Are the pins necessary? I feel like they are."
Suddenly, the soldier's gasp could be heard, as the pilot panicked inside the cockpit, looking around for the belt of grenades he carelessly just dropped inside the small space. Removing the pin alone couldn't start the countdown to explosion, but a motion that could remove the safety lever on the grenade, such as an impact on a surface, would. The small space wasn't dark, but it did provide no room to reach down. As he yelled out from being unable to escape certain death, all the grenades exploded, taking out the cockpit of the Sutherland entirely and causing the rest of the Knightmare to fall backwards into the streets. A combination of speaking skills and sleight of hand was able to take down a Knightmare.
"I'll take that as a yes." Alistair snarked, dropping the pin onto the road below.
"Impressive sleight of hand. You definitely seem like you've experienced lots of fighting despite being...sixteen years old, I think." The conductor spoke up, thankful that the Sutherland was gone.
"I'm used to fighting. Doesn't mean I enjoy it. Like, at all. Enjoyment ain't necessary for it. Just the will to do so, if push keeps coming to shove." Alistair responded, being honest but vague about his experience, for the time being. "You should head on back to the station, say you just rescued a few workers from the trouble of having to walk back to their homes in the city, or something."
"I think I will. But be careful. The military's been really antsy, lately, ever since the incident with Prince Clovis. He was killed, a few days ago, by a guy in a mask." The conductor then waved goodbye, the train once more diving on the tracks, on its way back to the station.
"One of Charles' kids, dead? Whoever did him in must've had a very clear reason to, due to actions caused by that kid." Alistair talked to himself, having heard some new information about the current situation in Japan.
As he slowly made his way to the streets, Alistair started figuring out what Britannia's big game plan was for a country they had taken over. If Clovis was running everything from the Britannian government building with the highest security and managed to be killed, it would only be a matter of time until a replacement would show up. Even without a royal from Britannia to lead their operations, the Britannian military would still have their own leadership to turn to, until someone else came along to pick up the slack. He wouldn't know who else would be coming by to take Clovis' place, or when, but someone else coming along to maintain Britannia's "order" was inevitable, as governments like Britannia's rarely ever gave up on anything they could sink their teeth into. While Alistair was lost in thought, walking along the sidewalk, a voice from a Knightmare boomed behind him.
"Excuse me, young man!" A somewhat baritone yet also somewhat bombastic voice called out to Alistair, who quietly clicked his tongue.
'Damn... Can't use the same trick twice, I already used up those grenades... And, the pistols on me won't do the trick, so… Words are the only weapon I've got, here...' Alistair thought to himself, before turning around to face the Sutherland, speaking out loud. "Yeah?"
The Sutherland in question was rather different from the usual model in that it had red shoulders, possibly signifying some sort of commander or ace pilot. Alistair knew he couldn't fight the Knightmare, by himself, and had to try every trick he could to get the pilot to leave him alone and avoid conflict. However, things seemed to be taking a turn, due to the pilot's attitude.
"This area's gotten dangerous, lately. You should try and head home, before it gets dark. I think even Britannian criminals and drug dealers like to hang out in these parts..." The soldier spoke with Alistair in a somewhat friendly tone, as if he wasn't sent by the police and was on his own mission, making things somewhat easier for Alistair.
"Fair enough. Though, these parts could use some repairs, from the looks of things. The Japanese need some proper comfort in trying times like these, right?" Alistair was being persuasive toward the soldier, but unknowingly fouled-up by not using the slur that Britannians used for the Japanese, "Elevens".
"...Yes, the...Japanese. ...Huh. That actually rolls off the tongue and sounds cooler, doesn't it...?" The pilot was muttering to himself, Alistair's persuasive tone having a more positive effect than intended.
"I take it that you're on a mission and that I should stay out of your way?" Alistair asked the soldier in the Sutherland.
"Yes! Thank you for reminding me, young man! Zero! I, Jeremiah Gottwald, will have your head!" The soldier shouted, unintentionally introducing himself as Jeremiah Gottwald.
Jeremiah's Sutherland then sped off on its Landspinners, moving rather fast toward its destination. Alistair shrugged, not even knowing how Jeremiah wasn't antagonistic towards him, and continued walking. It felt a bit too ambiguous to believe that a friendship was formed from such an interaction.
Meanwhile, at the Tokyo Police Headquarters, the Chief of Police, a man in his 50s with medium-length white hair, a short white beard and green eyes by the name of Gordon Kaplan was in his office, looking out at the city as the sun was starting to set. A few seconds later, a Police Major like James, a man with short auburn hair and blue eyes named Jackson Ramsay entered the room, sitting on one of the sofas.
"Well, looks like good boy James is on the run. How he managed to evade death is beyond me." Ramsay spoke, sounding rather confident and arrogant.
"Yes, quite a conundrum. Using him as a scapegoat to attempt to fully control all the other officers was a smart tactic. For one like you." Chief Kaplan responded, giving his ally a rather backhanded compliment as he approached the opposing sofa.
"Yeah, keep up the stoic act, boss. See where that gets you." Ramsay spoke softly and sarcastically as he said that. "Look, if you're wanting full control of the police, James had to go. That had to happen, no matter what plan you picked. He's way too soft for stuff like what we're trying to do. Could never stand such high-and-mighty BS."
"True, he would have caused a divide in the police force if he had his way any longer than he already did. Nothing more than a short-sighted nuisance." The Chief of Police scowled as he sat on the other sofa. "What about the other suspect, this boy with icy blue eyes?"
"Small fry, for sure. But he should be nothing more than guts and blood, when he gets shot by the Sutherland I sent his way. The guy piloting it is no slouch, he'd make short work of the kid in a heartbeat." Ramsay showed no end to his confidence, as if his actions gave him some sense of glory and satisfaction.
"For your sake, I hope you're right. We can't afford any screw-ups." Chief Kaplan then put a cigar in his mouth, and lit it with his lighter, exhaling a puff of smoke.
Meanwhile, in an alleyway in Tokyo, James remained hidden in a closed dumpster, waiting for the officers to finally give up the chase. Frustrated, the officers left the area, having lost their target, causing James to slowly climb out of the dumpster and sit down against a wall, panting. The man grunted, rubbing his shoulders.
"Goddamn... Now the entire department is after me. I can't go back to my apartment now, that's the first place they'd look. Guess I'll just have to go into hiding..." James talked to himself, worried about his livelihood, now that his job was out the window, due to a good deed.
As James looked at his surroundings, two Japanese men, one wearing a violet jacket, khaki pants and white shoes, and the other wearing a tan long-sleeved shirt jeans and brown shoes, both with different styles of short dark brown and black hair, respectively, approached the officer, curious about him. Despite being Japanese, the two men looked like they didn't have too much beef with a Britannian. Though, it could be presumed that James was alright in their eyes, due to seeing him hiding from fellow officers.
"You doing alright, man? You look like you ran a marathon. By force." The man with the jacket looked rather worried about James.
"In a sense. I became a scapegoat for some kind of asinine scheme by a bunch of dirty cops. Now I've got nowhere to go." James was honest with the Japanese men, showing no ill will towards them.
"Shit, that sucks. Even Britannians aren't exempt from being treated like ass." The other man with the long-sleeved shirt responded, honestly shocked at Britannians treating their own people so poorly.
"Taiga, we've seen that shit before, ourselves. Remember when that kid just bumped into that noble, last month?" The first man said, referring to his friend by his name.
"Oh, yeah. God, they're just assholes to just about anybody, aren't they, Ichika?" The man called Taiga responded to his friend.
"In any case, if you need a place to stay, we've got a sort of hideout. Though it's not as fancy as you might think." Ichika offered James a place to stay, so that he'd have a roof over his head.
"I could actually use that, thanks. I never went for fancy, either. Too expensive, even at my...former paygrade." James accepted the offer, slowly getting to his feet and dusting off his police uniform. "I'm James. James Samson."
"Ichika Saotome. The guy with the louder mouth but the harder punch is Taiga Hoshino." Ichika introduced himself and his friend.
"Okay, accurate, but you don't have to be a dick about it." Taiga gave a sarcastic remark to his friend, not even denying what was being said about him.
James couldn't help but laugh at the friendship the two had, and Ichika and Taiga laughed about the whole thing as well, all three walking off together. For once, the police Major was having a good time. Things may have turned for the worse, in terms of his job, but he made some new friends to help him out.
