Sena of the Liberation

by S.H. the Writer

Fate swings to a fro, back and forth as does a pendulum. And with each swing, possibilities change and shift. The path of one can be decided simply by the small changes in fate's flow, and perhaps possibility itself can be ever changed. This is a story of two, of brothers ever parallel, shaking the fate of the world itself in calls for liberation and rebellion.

6. Stage 6

Stage 6: The Prince and The Rebel

The Britannian Concession area, while large, only took up most of the central wards of Tokyo. The reconstruction plans meant that said settlement was slowly expanding outwards across the whole of the old city, left in ruins from the war and all but rotting in the years to follow. It was here on the outskirts of the "proper" Britannian city that the Japanese citizens were left to eke out their lives in squalor.

Any remaining wards were now designated as ghettos, and it was only a matter of "when" these derelict districts would be slowly built over by the ever-expanding Britannian Settlement, ever inescapable in its towering sterling steel visible from no matter where one looked from within the city.

Much like the marred Mount Fuji off in the horizon, it was a constant, agonizing reminder of what had happened to the nation since it had become an Area under Britannian rule.

And while the settlement area did make a point of setting up barriers around edges of the zones that were soon-to-be expanded, since key infrastructure still moved through both the settlement and ghettos, getting into them was easy enough for anyone deciding to venture their way into them for one reason or another.

And for Sena, that kind of sneaky ease was welcome as he moved through the Shinjuku Ghetto. Making sure none really spotted him was easy enough to pull off.

Making sure his hair was left a looser mess, the tail "hastily" tied in place by a worn-out ribbon. Baggy, somewhat ill-fitting clothing that appeared as if the outfit was simply assembled from whatever had been easier to get his hands on, and perhaps the biggest difference, hiding the color of his eyes. Sena accomplished this through a handy little bit of Britannian tech he'd gotten his hands on. A small, almost impossible to notice device that sat behind his right ear. A tap to it enough to shift his eyes from that Britannian royal purple to a nondescript shade of brown.

Handy stuff, infiltration technology normally reserved for information specialists. Just one of the things being royalty let him get his hands on for things like hiding his identity. And a hood courtesy of the jacket he'd picked out certainly helped with hiding his features from most people.

And really, when one was walking past destitution and debris that there simply wasn't the equipment to move, going unnoticed was a lot easier than it likely would have been otherwise. A deep, heavy pit was in Sena's stomach though, every passing glance like a stab to the heart. Just hours before, he'd been at the utter peak of all of this, the top of the tower that stared down at these people and reminded them constantly of what they had lost so long ago.

"Talk about a damn farce…" under his breath, Sena could only curse it all.

But, muttering about things wouldn't do him any good, so onward it was. His destination was the old subway systems, nowadays left to sit derelict and empty in place of the Britannian monorail system of the settlement. In those areas, the connecting areas were being built over with time, replaced with new infrastructure to support the super-structures being built over the old.

But for the ghettos? They made for some rather convenient hideaways for certain sorts keen to stay out of the public eye. Or, as Sena had caught on, wily Knights wanting to break in their Knightmares where the security system would be able to notice them tearing through at full speed. And it wasn't as if the more abandoned districts of Old Tokyo weren't being used as practice for urban combat by the Knightmare units to begin with.

So, who'd notice one little Glasgow stowed away in some old maintenance garage for the old subway?

As he neared the old subway entrance at a particular bit of Shinjuku's old main street that something rather unusual for the ghettos got his attention.

Someone who certainly didn't quite look like they belonged here. A girl about Sena's age, a curtain of black hair spilling out from under a large hat, and while her clothing certainly looked like she was attempting to blend in with the ghettos, a bulky somewhat ill-fitting jacket centering it, the ensemble was just a bit too well kept to be something that was scrounged up. Blue eyes darted about as she looked around the square, a rather hefty bag of foodstuffs clutched in her arms.

And a lot like himself, Sena caught both Britannian and Japanese features on her pale face. He felt more than a bit awkward he'd somehow gotten good at identifying people like himself, but maybe it was just a sense of things that led him to intuit that.

I might want to unpack that later… as he contemplated that unfortunate implication, where the girl ended up was enough of a surprise.

A group of young children, all playing about with whatever poorly kept toys they had, approaching her from a bit off with beaming smiles on their faces. Sena was a bit too far away to hear what conversation started, so resigned himself to watching from where he was, taking a seat on some of the rubble. Besides, a quick rest would be helpful.

With all the excitement they could, the children took the offered fresh food with gusto, their thanks just loud enough for Sena to pick up on as the teenager handed the items out to the children. While most of the kids were quick to scurry off and start eating, one of them, a girl with pigtails and a white dress, hung around the teenager for a moment longer.

It was a rare enough sight, but it also told Sena plenty. The ill-disguised girl couldn't possibly have been from the ghettos. Aside from her attire being too well-kept, the fact she had such a bag of fresh food at all was certainly a tell. It wasn't as if Numbers couldn't get access to fresh foods, but those were tightly rationed by government-controlled sub-markets and awfully expensive for them to get at all. At best they would be getting the leftovers and second-hand sales that would've otherwise been tossed out for the "real" citizens.

That, or they got ahold of them through the black market. More than a few of them had been cropping up. Some from well-meaning sorts just looking to help the Japanese where they could without drawing suspicion. Others for more illicit and far more unsavory means. Sena was willing to overlook the former, but part of him would be more than happy to wipe the latter out entirely given the proper means.

To Sena's surprise, the child then looked to him. She looked at the loaf of bread in her hands and then back to him, and Sena immediately realized what was going through her mind. Oh man… and he was proven right as the girl started trotting over to him.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Sena's heart panged a bit as the girl approached. "You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you? Big Sis brought a lot of food, so there's plenty to go around."

"Haha, thanks, but I'm good," Sena knelt, patting the girl on the head. "I appreciate the offer though. And I'm sure your big sis brought all that for you and your friends. The adults would say you need it more than us too."

"Yeah, they say it a lot," the girl giggled, Sena chuckling as he withdrew his hand. "Are you from another ward? You don't look familiar."

"Yeap, but where I'm from is a secret, so don't tell your friends," Sena put a finger to his lips, the girl giving an awed look. "I'm Sumeragi. You?"

"Hina! It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, Hina. You're a nice kid. Now run along, I think your big sis is glaring daggers at me," Sena looked to the side, Hina looking back to the girl still with the other kids, but not at all removing her attention from Sena, clearly ready to step in the second she thought anything was going on.

Hina nodded and hurried back over to the other children. Sena stood and trotted along, exchanging a glance with the teenager as he headed towards the old subway terminal. As Sena descended the stairs down to the old underground, a sudden shadow caught his attention.

"Hold on!" Turning around, Sena was met with the girl from before atop the stairs. "You're not actually from the ghettos, are you?"

"And what makes you say that?" Sena tugged his hood forward a bit, making sure his face was still plenty obscured by also pulling up a face cover that he'd kept hidden under his jacket's collar.

"It's just… a feeling, I suppose…" Sena raised a brow. "Why would you even be heading for the tunnels? You're… not one of those terrorists, are you?"

"If someone heard you call them that, they'd take some umbrage," Sena chuckled as the girl's hands clenched. "Who I am doesn't really matter, for you and those kids at least. You visit them often?"

"When I have the time. It's the only thing that makes me feel like I'm doing something. They're all war orphans. Nobody's around to take care of them, so I…"

"Then you're doing a good thing. Even if it's not much, at least it's something. Better than some folks could admit to," Sena turned off to continue, stopping just before he passed through the old entrance. "Oh and tell those kids to avoid the old subway lines for a while. Might get a bit loud down here, so best they steer clear."

"So, you're really one of them?"

"Hahaha, hardly… ehhh, kind of, if you think of it a certain way," Sena pocketed his hands, hopping over a bit of rubble. "No need for you to get too involved, y'know?"

As Sena looked back, he caught the girl with a downcast look. Her eyes said it all. He'd seen it plenty among anyone in the ghettos. The look of someone who was lost, looking for something. A cause, a reason. Something to say why they were still alive despite all of this.

"Even if you're just helping a bunch of kids, that can be plenty. We all go about things in our own way. So long as you feel like you made the right decision, that's plenty. Take care of 'em, those kids are definitely better off for it."

With that, Sena started off down the old tunnel, his final word being a wave to the girl as she watched him vanish into the dimly lit pathway. Drawing a PDA, Sena brought up a map of the subway lines, eyes on a marked section that each ping registered him as closer and closer to by the moment.

The walk there allowed Sena to simply take things in. Different from the dilapidation of the ghettos yet connected all the same. The rotting veins of the old city, left to be gouged out by the new and one day forgotten like dust in the wind. But for now, rotting as they were, these tunnels had use. A place the Britannian police and even military rarely dared to go looking for anyone.

A perfect place to hide, be it people or equipment. And in this case, even a Knightmare could safely be "forgotten" in these darkened paths.

And while it took him quite a way out from Shinjuku, the place Sena was looking for didn't take long to find even if following the map required him to split down a few branches and bends of the subway. He knew he was there when the headlights of a rather fancy car came into view, and waiting near it was a hunched over older man, who like Sena was keeping his face hidden behind the veneer of a mask, a more ornate ballroom one than Sena's ratty cloth cover.

"So, you must be the one taking this old thing off my hands," the masked old man chuckled as Sena approached, clearly sizing him up. "You chose quite the way to blend in with the Elevens."

"Can't have anyone getting too nosy," Sena reached into his jacket and pulled out a chip, flicking it between his fingers, noting the man eying it. "Knightmare first, then I hand over the chit. Gotta make sure you're not trying to screw me like some sorts would. Y'know, just keeping things off the books so my superiors don't get antsy."

"Oh, please good squire, I wouldn't stoop as low as those black-market dealers here in the ghettos. I have standards to maintain, and one of them is keeping my word. And you would also understand that for me…" the man snapped his fingers, Sena barely giving a reaction as four men in suits slunk out from behind nearby pillars. "Making sure some punk squire didn't drag the military with him is also necessary for me."

"If I was trying to get you caught, believe me, I'd use a different method than buying some mothballed Glasgow stowed up in the tunnels. There're better sources to track guys like you from anyway. So, we gonna do this easy way and make the deal, or the goon squad gonna keep glaring at me?"

As he looked around the group, Sena moved his free hand under his jacket, fingers slowly grasping the grip of his own pistol, just in case he'd need it.

"Hah, I admire the guts to not squirrel away first thing. Alright then. Open the hatch," the masked man gestured to one of his goons, the man nodding and undoing a padlock on the garage door, throwing it open and stepping in to turn on some lights.

Within was Sena's goal here. A Glasgow, the earliest mass production model of Knightmare Frame first deployed by Britannia seven years ago. The machine was in a kneel within the otherwise almost empty garage, the drab paint scheme left to dull and fade with the years of inactivity. Visually speaking it looked to be in decent shape, little damage to the armor and even the tires of the landspinners looked useable, a lot less wear than he expected present on them.

And as Sena expected during his scan of the machine, aside from the singular slash harken on the chest and a combat knife strapped to a hip, there wasn't a sign of any kind of serious armament.

Not that asking about it would help his case what with the story Sena had fed.

"The previous owner hid this one away not long after the end of the Second Pacific War," said the masked man, Sena giving a hum. "He needed it off his hands, and let's say I have a certain interest in "lost" hardware such as this. And you could say I had some ideas for it… really whoever came around first."

"Ahaha, so you would've even sold it to some of those rebels if they could scrounge the cash up?"

"Money is money," The masked man then lifted a hand, "Now, you've seen it. Give me the chit, and you get the key."

"I'll promise you right now it isn't bugged or anything," smoothly but slowly, Sena held the chit up to make sure it was visible to all. Once the man nodded, Sena handed it off as one of his men stepped over to retrieve it.

The suit slid the object into a small laptop, and after a second, nodded to his boss.

"It's clean, sir. No virus or signal to go off."

"Good. Give the boy the key, and we can be on our way."

The suit nodded, in turn drawing out the key for the KMF, pressing it into Sena's palm and stepping away. As they backed off, Sena removed his hand from his gun, matching the now removed tension around them all.

"The system was run clean after it was acquired," said the suit. "ID and key lock were wiped as well. It'll be up to you to set them back up."

"Oh, it does have an energy filler in it with a suitable level of charge to get it to wherever the hell you plan to move it," The masked man took a bow. "Consider it a courtesy. Do enjoy your practice, young squire."

"Oh, I will…" Sena bounced the key in his hand, following the men out as they left the garage and piled into the fine car. Sena leaned against the wall as he watched the vehicle peel out, only then ducking into the garage again, finally removing his mask and hood as he strode back to the quiet mech. "Alright buddy, let's see what shape you're really in. Kozuki just said he needed something useable…"

Finding the external release lever on the side of the main block, with a quick pull the hatch hissed open. Sena grumbled a bit as the hinge whined in an uncomfortable way, telling of a worrisome degree of age on the parts.

Then again, he wasn't expecting much else from a KMF that had been crammed in some garage without maintenance for years on end.

And despite the worrisome groans, when Sena took the seat, it slid back into the cockpit without trouble. While Sena was used to them, the Glasgow's ergonomics were far from nice and cozy, his hands almost awkwardly pressed into the square control sticks despite things.

The startup was shockingly clean as Sena inserted the key, the old machine rumbling to life with little trouble. Sena's gaze shifted to the main information panel as it started up, taking a careful look at the display's scan of the Frame's internals and overall structure. Such a panel was vital for pilot information, since knowing the state of your machine in detail was handy even in the heat of combat.

Especially if one needed to make use of the eject function or to jettison an arm or leg if needed.

"Let's see… most things are in good condition, but the age of the parts is probably gonna show if this thing gets pushed too much…" Sena muttered aloud as he flicked through the information before him. "But it's as usable as the guy said it would be. And that's all I need… now as for the factsphere…"

Sena put his hands to the controls, flicking the trackball a few times. The Glasgow's head shifted upward, and the front panels shifted out as a large spherical camera let out a pulse. The monitors taking up the rest of the cockpit lit up, an environmental scan running across the garage and tunnel. Sena grimaced when the radar panel flickered, through a quick whack from the bottom of his fist corrected it.

Mostly.

"Good enough. Now, let's see how it actually runs."

With a few more flicks of the control sticks and pedal presses, the landspinners on the side of the Glasgow's legs dropped down. Not moving the machine from its crouched pose, Sena rolled the aging Knightmare from the garage and into the tunnel proper, machinery whirring as ages of dust buildup were cast from it. Arms shifted and spun; legs adjusted after ages of stillness as it rose to full height.

Sena would almost call the metal alive with how the Glasgow finally moved, free of its years of sleep under his command, like stretching out one's morning stiffness.

As the Knightmare whirred and readied, Sena licked his lips in anticipation. All of his training in one had been in sparring, controlled arenas and training grounds without much extra space. So, the thought of getting to take one at full speed like he was about it was quite an exhilarating one.

"I got some time before I need to meet up with Kozuki… so might as well enjoy the ride there!"

Sena pushed the pedals to the floor, laughing as the Glasgow took off after a brief burnout of its landspinners.

The walls of the subway tunnels rushed past Sena as the Glasgow roared down the old rails, Sena taking the time to really test how it could move, coasting up along the tubular walls and leaping from one end of the tunnel and back as he sped along. His only complaint would be the fact the machine wasn't responding quite as quickly as Sena would have wished, but that was more something he'd dealt with for Glasgows in general.

But Sena couldn't deny the feeling. The feedback from the controls, the crispness of the information provided even by the aged factsphere. And even if it felt like the machine wasn't responding to his liking, the smoothness of it all still exhilarated the young man.

And after a fair few hundred or three meters, Sena brought the Glasgow to a steadier speed, especially since his phone was ringing. Quickly inserting his signal scrambler once he saw that "Red" address, Sena turned the device onto speaker mode.

"Took you a while to call!" Sena chuckled as he kept on with testing the Glasgow, Naoto chuckling from his end.

"Was just giving you time. I'm assuming the deal got sorted out?"

"'course. Giving the Glasgow a test ride right now on my way to the spot. She runs, well… like a machine that's been shut up in a garage for a few years," Sena snickered as "Red" let out a throaty laugh, meanwhile he was also inputting some map data. "But hey, better shape than some barn find car at the least. A sealed-up garage in underground tunnels is good preservation, who'da thought?"

"I've got a couple stories about cars from Tamaki I could share…" "Red" audibly shook the thought out. "I'm near the spot too. Remember where?"

"The old terminal near Kabukicho. Not too far from there now. See ya' in a minute."

"I'll be waiting on the platform. I'll signal you once I see the Glasgow."

"Roger that."

Sena hung up, increasing his speed a bit to hurry things along. As the tunnels shifted to a familiar terminal, Sena slowed when he caught a flashing signal from just ahead, right at the platform that at one time years ago served the comers and goers of the day. Sena brought the Glasgow to a screeching stop, turning the machine around so the cockpit ended up facing the platform, making for a perfect exit point once he stopped.

And as Sena popped the cockpit open, he heard clapping as the seat retracted out.

"Haha, nice show! Guess all that practice with the 'real' Knights isn't for show," leaning up on the top of the cockpit was a red-haired young man with dark blue eyes, dressed in practical, rugged attire and with a standout red headband. Kouzuki Naoto, aka "Red", one of Sena's more recent contacts in his endeavors to learn more about the situation among the rebels scattered around Japan.

"Just about anyone with basic control dexterity could pull that off," Sena chuckled as he stood up, Naoto letting out a hum. "Probably need to look at some things. I've always found Glasgows to respond a bit slow, but this one's also… no need to repeat it again."

"I'll be sure to give it the look over," Naoto caught the key as Sena passed it to him. "Thank you! Now c'mon, let's go talk about why I wanted this thing to begin with."

Naoto gestured for Sena to follow, the teenager following the young man up to the main street proper, the two stopping just outside of a now deteriorated, faded red gate structure still standing as proudly as it could even when surrounded by rumors. Even the faded Japanese lettering on the center of it remained legible enough for Sena to read: Kabuki-cho Ichiban-gai.

"Quick question!" Naoto held up a finger as Sena looked down the main road past the torii gate. "Do you know what Kabukicho was like before the invasion?"

"I think it was a red-light district?" Sena put a hand to his chin. "I only read about it since whatever books I could scrounge up weren't exactly in the best shape. But back then it was known for being where a lot of hostess and host clubs were."

"Also love hotels, nightclubs, tons of shops and restaurants, and plenty of bars!" Naoto led the way into the dilapidated district, Sena trotting after, his eyes skimming along the ruined signs still clinging to their buildings along every road. "We used to call this place the Sleepless City… now it's just as dead as any other part of Tokyo."

Sena could already image how these streets could have been filled to the brim. People coming and going from the different locales, be it bars or places of perhaps more ill repute, huddling around the restaurants to eat meals before carrying on. Throngs of office workers enjoying their nights, couples enjoying the amenities and more.

All just a faint image juxtaposed with the quiet, rubble strewn ruins left in the wake of the invasion that ruined the once vibrant city. Even the wide square Naoto stopped at was just a hollow shell of what once was, left to be reclaimed by nature and not a soul in sight as the man took a seat on an old bench.

Not a word had been exchanged in the minutes it took the two to reach the square, just silently ruminating on everything around them.

"Don't go looking guilty now," Naoto looked at Sena with an amused glance, and the boy realized just how he'd likely had a guilty look on. "The invasion had nothing to do with you, royal blood or not. We share that particular little problem anyway. And besides, I'd be wasting my time taking those frustrations out on someone who's as old as my sister over all of that."

"I just can't help but think it'd be… different," Sena sighed as he sat down next to Naoto, his gaze looking off in the direction of the Settlement. "Not even a couple hours ago I was standing at the top of the occupation area, looking down at all of this… from that high up, it's no wonder Britannians don't even take the time to consider what it's like down here on the ground."

"Well, that means you have a better perspective than most," Naoto folded his arms. "But I'm not here to reminisce about old times. By now you know I'm a member of a rebel cell… so, wanna know why I wanted to get my hands on a Knightmare? Even some rickety old Glasgow?"

"Gotta admit I'm curious," Sena raised a brow when Naoto handed over a folded slip of paper. Unfolding it, Sena's eyes widened further as he skimmed it. "This is information on a weapons facility. Where'd you dig this up from?"

"Let's just say being able to pass yourself off as a Britannian has it's uses for rebel work," Naoto twisted a few strands of his red hair, Sena also catching Naoto glancing at his own black-as-night hair with perhaps a bit of envy in his gaze. Didn't take a scholar to tell that the combination of red hair and blue eyes was far from typical Japanese features.

"So why trust me enough to show me this info?" Sena folded the papers back up, handing them back to Naoto. "For all you know me getting that Knightmare could be a lead into a trap. Maybe I snuck a tracker on it so that you and your cell would get caught eventually."

"Hahaha! Please, if that was your plan you wouldn't tell me," Sena looked to the side as Naoto called the bluff. "Wouldn't have even entertained talking to me beyond the exchange of the Frame itself. And yet, you followed me all the way out into the ruins of an old red-light district, knowing damn well I could have been the one laying a trap."

"So, we both didn't fully trust each other," Sena let out his own laugh as he stood up again. "Alright then, what's with this facility that got you so interested you'd need a Knightmare?"

"I think it's some kind of black site," Naoto flicked the papers open, skimming them over again. "Sure, on the surface it looks like any other facility, normal stuff you'd find in different production areas of the settlement… but take a look at this," Sena leaned in, his eyes following Naoto's index finger to a copy of a supply manifest. "For a weapons facility they're oddly light on, well… weapons. Sure, there's some materials you'd find if the place was producing firearms or other military equipment. But not enough for a full production line's usual output."

"So, you think it's only for some kind of cover?" Taking the papers again, Sena flipped through the pages, carefully eying what bits Naoto had gotten. Unfortunately, much of the documents were also blacked out, an annoying level of black bars cutting entire paragraphs of information out. "Wherever you got this from clearly didn't have the clearance for anything else but the basics."

"It was the best I could get ahold of without being caught. And that's where I'm hoping you can come in," Sena raised a brow again, Naoto chuckling. "You have an in that I don't. Not just as a squire, but because you're a prince. Being the younger brother of the viceroy means you've gotta have clearance higher than even some ranking officers."

"That's not untrue… as a prince anyway," Sena folded the papers yet again, clapping them shut with a flick of his wrist. "But as far as any military personnel are concerned, I'm just a commoner. Sena Sinclair only has the information clearance of a Private… meaning basically none. If I went snooping around where someone could find me…" Sena let out a sigh, sitting back down with a dry chuckle. "Why am I complaining about blowing covers? I'm here in the middle of the ghettos talking with a terrorist as far as Britannia is concerned. I lost the right to worry about that weeks ago."

"The second you told me you were a Prince of the Realm. If you want to feel better about this, consider it me, say, blackmailing you. Gives you a cover story in case you get caught," Sena shot Naoto a wry smirk as the man snickered. "This is why I needed the Knightmare. If it turns out this place is some kind of black site, it's probably what me and my cell will need to make some kind of plan. But… for now I can't be too sure, not until I can confirm what exactly is being done there."

"So, you're covering your bases ahead of time. What's the plan with the Glasgow?"

"I'll keep it in a garage near one of our hideouts. Been collecting some parts here and there where I can, so I should be able to fix it up a bit on my own. And once I have the info I need, I can make a plan."

"What would your men say if they knew you were asking for help from a Britannian prince?" Sena's dry laugh ebbed when Naoto gave him a more serious look.

"I'm not asking for help from the Sena zel Britannia," said the man. "I'm asking for help from Sumeragi Sena. You told me it was your mother's name. And if I'm right about who your mother is, it means you've got more sway here in Japan than you'd think. So, will you help me?" Naoto stood and offered a hand. "I want to free my home, even if it means having to rely on my Britannian blood… I'm sure you can understand that feeling at the least."

"More than you know," Sena stood, taking the handshake. "I decided a long time ago I'd change this empire, even if it meant fighting against it."

"Then let's find out how you can fight against Britannia," Naoto grinned, Sena returning it with a confident smirk of his own. "Welcome aboard, Sumeragi."