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Hey everyone. Last chapter at last. Before I begin, I want to clarify a potential mistake in this chapter. A captain outranks a commander, at least in the navy. However, I refer to the unnamed officer in this chapter as "commander", and he is treated as Ky's superior. Just warning if anyone feels like nitpicking me. Also, due to the number of page breaks, some of the text might not have gone through. Be careful. Enjoy.
The IPF Commander gave a snort in response. His arms were still crossed as he glared down his nose at Ky Kiske. There was a definite sharp contrast between the two. The Commander was prim, proper, groomed, and looked to be the picture of military efficiency and effectiveness. Ky, on the other hand, was still slowly and painfully wrapping his wounds in bandages and extracting bits of metal and other shrapnel from his skin. Luckily, some of the incoming officers had plenty of medical supplies.
“I honestly can’t believe it, Captain.” The Commander responded. “You rant and rave…you make one special order and warrant request after another…you request leaves of absence every other week to follow up on a chase…and when you finally have Sol Badguy in front of you, you let him go.”
Ky paused in the middle of dabbing one of his open wounds with a cotton swab, dipped on the end with antibiotic. He kept his eyes downward, however…and cold as usual.
“…As I told you, sir. I was too weak to give pursuit.”
The Commander let out a sigh in response and rolled his eyes. “Yet you seem well enough now to refuse being airlifted out of here, and to doctor yourself.”
“Just first aid, sir.” Ky answered. “And I had to stay to give my field report.”
The Commander kept his frown. There was no news there. Only a few hours after the air strike was aborted and Ky gave the word that the area was secure, some three hundred IPF members arrived in the vicinity. Twelve dozen more were beginning to land at key points around the island. All of them were beginning to launch an in depth investigation of the grounds for the tournament, and to arrest anyone they could find. Already, two civilians had been found tied up and had been arrested. Four other bodies had been located. None of them, however, coincided with Ky’s story. Those ones had yet to be located.
Ky and his superior officer were in the shadow of the stadium. The sun was high now, and everything in the ruin of the city was visible. It had come to life at this point, now that ships were being kept running, and police officers were swarming everywhere. Readings were being took, evidence collected, and all other signs of struggle or activity being swamped. They had already found the area they believed to be the Gear, who was none other than the infamous Black Knight, Testament, used as his base of operations. However, they were still trying to make their way toward an entrance.
The Commander paused for a bit longer, but then let out another sigh as he straightened again. “Is that the entire story?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, between what you gave us, and what we got from that albino man, we should have the full timeline pretty soon…”
A rough shove accompanied this, one that nearly made Chipp spill forward on his face. That would have been bad…because his arms were cuffed behind him, and he was unable to brace himself with them. The young man had to struggle not to turn and give a glare to the officer who had done this. A day ago, and he might have wheeled around and beat him to a pulp. Yet he was too weak right now to do much in the way of fighting. And even if he hadn’t been…there was another factor as well. It seemed that he was still having to learn even now, without his mentor…
Chipp straightened back up to full height. As he did, he pushed his body back and rubbed against the officer. In response, he got a rather hard object pressed into his back and another shove. This time, Chipp went with it. He stepped up and into the waiting helicopter. This wasn’t a small one, like the kind used for reconnaissance or a gunship. It was much larger, and he saw that it had numerous seats along it that featured attachments for restraints and chains to whoever sat in them. The cockpit was completely closed off from the rear. It was obvious that it was some sort of criminal transport vehicle. For now, Chipp was the only one in it. He wasn’t sure if there’d be more.
As Chipp stepped in, the officer followed him close behind. He led him on until he got to a seat near the front. After that, he roughly extended his hand and shoved the young man down into the seat. Again…Chipp had to struggle not to react violently. He went with it and got into his position. After that, the officer reached over and quickly buckled him in with a locking restraint, and next used cuffs on the bottom of the chair to lock his feet down as well.
“Keep quiet and do what we tell you.” The officer flatly ordered. “You’ll get to a doctor faster that way.”
With that, the officer turned and walked back out the way he had come. Soon he went to the open rear of the helicopter, stepped outside, and then turned around. He reached up, grabbed the hydraulic cover, and slammed it shut. A clicking immediately was heard as it locked. Chipp was left alone in the silent interior.
Once that happened, he inhaled calmly, exhaled calmly, and then turned and faced ahead. One of his hands, balled into a fist, relaxed and revealed a key he had quite easily swiped off of the officer’s belt when he had ran into him on standing. Once out, he quickly moved it to his fingers and began to go for his handcuffs.
Yes…he had stayed. There was little other option for him. He had no ride off of this island. He had never really thought of ensuring one. All he had cared about was his revenge. And now, after being beaten and left to hang in a bizarre cage for a day or so…Chipp had time to get some clarity of mind and think other things through. He had time to consider all of the things he had seen and discovered. And in the end, he had elected to turn himself in. Not permanently, of course. He knew enough to know that he’d still be tried for murder. He couldn’t allow that. Not yet. But he did tell the police the story, as best as he could remember it. It deserved to be told. At the least…that crazy Dr. Baldhead deserved some credit for what he did for them before he died.
However…Chipp thought of other things besides that. In particular…he kept thinking back to the fight. The one fight of the “tournament” he had officially been in. Him versus that stranger in red… That man who seemed to know all of his tricks and respond to them…counter them… And he thought about what he had told him…that he wasn’t “worthy” of avenging his master…
At the time, Chipp had been infuriated by that. His desire for vengeance blinded him to all else, and he struck back as violently as he could. As a result…he was sloppy and easily beaten. He was bashed soundly until he was unable to stay angry. And once that happened…his mind finally began to clear. He began to hear the man’s words anew.
Chipp wanted revenge more than anything. His master deserved justice. And yet…how had he been going about it? Many of those men had been wicked…but did they deserve death? If so, then hadn’t Chipp deserved it himself? Hadn’t he once been at the mercy of others as well as his master, and been given a second chance? Why should they have been any different? He could have beaten them and left them for the police to take…but he didn’t want that. He wanted to spill blood. And it wasn’t entirely out of a desire for justice. He realized now…it was a way of making himself feel better. Killing other criminals…spilling their blood…made him feel like he was somehow avenging Tsuyoshi’s blood as well. And the more he did so…the more he wanted. It made him feel better…more in control…more justified… Until, as Chipp realized now…it had become another addiction.
That man in red…he didn’t know Tsuyoshi from anyone else. Yet he had been so eager for vengeance that he had attacked him, simply because he wouldn’t answer a question. A question that, Chipp knew now, was unjustified in the first place. The man was right. He was out of control. He was only a step from attacking innocent people. The soul of his master would never have forgiven him that if he had done so. And he himself would not have been able to either. Furthermore, he had gotten wild…sloppy…uncontrolled… He was violating everything in his teaching.
It seemed so strange to think of it this way now…but Chipp realized that the man beating him, his capture, and everything that had followed…all of it had worked for the best for him. Because of it, he was stopped in the middle of his rage and forced to think. He was forced to look at himself, when he was restrained and unable to do anything else to block out the pain. And once there…he saw the wrongness of what he was doing. How he wasn’t going about on a mission of true justice…but rather smothering himself with feelings of revenge.
As the key finally fit into the cuff, and Chipp began to slowly turn it, he decided on what he had to do next. He’d go back into training. He still had to sharpen himself considerably before he was on Tsuyoshi’s level. He had to be able to beat any opponent. And from now on…he’d wage his revenge more calmly. More carefully. He’d pick his targets more specifically. He’d ensure only the truly guilty ones were punished. As for those he needed information from…there were other ways to make them talk without threatening them with death. Some far worse than making them pay for their crimes with their lives.
The cuff fell from his wrist, and Chipp immediately went to the other. He’d pretend to be captured for now. Until they got back to shore. Then he’d make his escape and make it back to the States. He had lots of work to do…
Ky looked up from his doctoring and put the cotton swab to one side. “I believe that my judgment will prove to have been the best at the end of the investigation. I did cancel the air strike, but Justice is dead and the area is now intact for further in depth investigation. I was trying to spare lives. I wasn’t willing to kill innocents to take out criminals. Besides…there’s still a chance that they can be recovered before they manage to escape the island.”
Axl cracked a smile as he kept on Millia’s heels. “What? After all we’ve been through together, love?”
Millia grit her teeth as she kept pushing through the trees. Right now, she would have preferred to be able to run to her motorboat, but that was hardly an option now. She was still rather bashed and weary, and she hadn’t slept or eaten in days. What stamina she still possessed had been used up in running away from Testament’s prison and the approaching IPF members. It wasn’t until she was finally clear of them and back into the safety of the nearby forest that she realized she had picked up a shadow…in the form of Axl Low.
“Besides, I ain’t got a choice.” Axl continued. “I don’t have a boat. I hitched a ride here. I gotta get off this island somehow.”
“…And you figured I was too exhausted to beat you off.” Millia grumbled.
“I’d be lyin’ if I said that wasn’t a factor.”
Millia actually bared her teeth that time. Too bad he was telling the truth. She had gotten so tired that her hair locks could barely extend.
“You do owe me for savin’ you back there.”
“Don’t remind me.” Millia answered, not feeling like debating that May and Chipp probably had as much to do with it themselves, not to mention the fact that she had been the one who freed herself from her own prison. “You may get more than you bargained for by tailing after me. I’m still a marked woman. I never did take out Zato-1 on this trip. He could kill us both if he found us now.”
“He can’t possibly be as bad as those roots.” Axl answered back. “So…what will you be up to now?”
“Trying to find another lead on him, or another way I can attract him to me, if you must know.”
“You’ve really got it out for him, don’t you?”
Millia nearly slowed in her step when she heard this. Hearing that particular phrase brought back some memories…memories of being back in the subway and duking it out with that man in red. She remembered what he had told her. And at the memory of that, her face softened somewhat.
“You could take a few days off…” Axl suggested. “You know…just until the bones begin to knit before you start breaking ‘em again.”
Millia didn’t answer…but she thought back to where this had begun. Her sitting in a bar, the same as she had done most nights, wandering in and out from city to city. The thoughts of how she was just drifting through the mortal coil called life. The fact was…she had been more alive and active when she heard Zato-1 was back then she had been in years. When she realized that…she realized that the man in red might have been right. What was she doing? What life did she have for herself? Was the substance of her existence wrapped up in trying to justify herself? In trying to avoid her own sins in the past? And if so…then what was she doing?
“Get a tan…see a movie…spend a fortnight styling all of the hair you have crammed in that head…”
The man said she had to find something worth living for. Something worth fighting for. But what? Had she ever really cared about anything else? Was their anything in her life that she could think of? And if not…then what sort of life did she really have? Just her and her empty soul… And if so, then he was right. She didn’t have anything else but her revenge or her desire to live. And that in itself wasn’t enough. If she wanted to have a life…she had to start making it for herself. She had to try and find the something worth living for. She had to try to make a difference for herself.
“I don’t know…what’s still around after a hundred years? Is Rio still ticking? Cancun? Paris?”
“…Ireland.”
Axl stopped in the middle of his suggestions, and though Millia couldn’t see it, he turned to her in confusion.
“Pardon?”
“I’m going to go to Ireland now.” Millia continued. “There’s enough power in this boat to get me there in a few hours. You can come with me, if you like. I’m going to go into the first pub I can find and order a thick beer. You can come with me inside.” She paused after saying this…but then added something else, almost as if this was the point to the small monologue.
“If you buy me a drink…I’ll talk to you.”
Millia continued to walk as she said this. Axl, meanwhile, paused a bit before he kept on after her. He didn’t know what had brought this on. He wasn’t even sure what significance it had to it. However…he did feel a bit better on hearing this. So…Ireland was still kicking? Axl was British, but he also had a thing for good bars. And he doubted that after all that had gone on that the Protestants and Catholics were still blowing each other up. Since the tournament had fallen through, he figured he’d have to get used to being in this time period for a little while. It’d be nice to go someplace normal like a pub and forget about Gears and bombs and man-eating plants and hair…
The world’s gotten real crazy… Axl thought to himself with a sigh.
It was still night, although dawn was fast approaching. And much as she had been when she first started this, May found herself walking through the forests on the island alone. The others had broken up once they were out of that hole. May herself, on hearing the truth about a bomb, had turned and run for it. That probably wasn’t the best idea. She couldn’t run that far being weighed down by the giant anchor, and by the time she was in the forest and thought that she was safe, she realized she had separated herself from all of the others. Needless to say, she felt like smashing herself in the head with her own anchor and ruefully turned to begin trekking through the forest again.
As the young woman came to a clearing, and began to emerge from the forest to trudge through the long grass in it, she grumbled to herself. This tournament had been the biggest bust of her life. She hoped to get in and have Johnny busted out. Now she was stuck on this overgrown weed. She had been beaten by giants, entombed by plants, nearly sliced up by crazy doctors, ran for her life from a bomb (which, it turned out, never went off in the first place), she had no food, no water, no ways of getting ahold of the May Ship, and she was left to run around on this island until she died. Worst of all…none of this had done a thing to help bust Johnny out of prison.
May couldn’t take it any more. It drove her nuts. The girl suddenly planted her feet and stood her ground. Balling her hands into fists and looking thoroughly irritated, she turned her head to the sky to give out a yell of desperation and rage…
And was immediately bowled over by a blast of hot air.
The pirate gave a cry and opened her eyes in shock as she was thrown backward, head over heels, losing her hat in the process. Even as she did, a sonic roar began to fill her ears. It was practically mind numbing, and she was so disorientated from being blasted back all of the sudden and having been beaten so much already that she could barely make out what was going on. However…the sound did seem somewhat…familiar.
May landed with her head on the ground, her feet in the air, and her skirt splaying over her body, exposing her skivvies. As it did, the wind around her died down, as did the sound of the roaring. However, the blast still came, and there was still the sound of roaring, likely the source of whatever was generating the wind. May stayed motionless for a moment, before flailing out madly to try and right herself. Seeing as she wasn’t even fully aware of what position she had ended up in, that took a moment. Yet in the end, she threw herself down and up into a seated position. Pouting a bit, she quickly rose to her feet, snatching up her hat with her and placing it back on her head. As she rose up and looked out, however…her irritation vanished.
It was the May Ship.
Naturally, the massive airship could barely fit into the clearing. The bottom loading bay was hovering just above the ground. The massive engines were turning in order to keep it aloft at a height of only a few feet. Some of the trees on the edges were being bowled over or blasted aside. Yet it managed to stay there. And right now, as May gaped in amazement, it was a miracle. It was the best sight she could hope to see.
Even as May stood there in dumbfounded surprise, the bottom loading bay opened, allowing people to exit. One did a moment later. April, smiling and looking rather clean and unmarred compared to May, leapt out and gave her a wave. Yet soon after that…a much taller figure leapt out. A hand reached up and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat as he did so to keep it from blowing away in the blast, but once he was out he removed it and looked up, beaming his own smile at May.
His wide hat was black, as was the long black coat he wore and his black pants. Gold fastenings and buckles stood out from it, and especially on his large black belt that he wore around his waist. His boots appeared to be brown leather, however. He wore no shirt, exposing a rather muscular chest, although it wasn’t “ripped” or “hulking”. His messy blond hair poked out from under the brim of his hat, possessing an affixed silver skull. Aside from this, he carried a curved wooden stave at his side, and looked at the world through jet black sunglasses.
May saw this…and had to pinch herself quickly to prove she wasn’t dreaming.
She was wrong. The May Ship was the second best sight she could hope to see.
“JOHNNY!”
In seconds, seeming to forget the fact that she was tired and sore, May had run up to Johnny and flung her arms around him so tightly that she was airborne for a moment, and she and the man twirled around once before returning to their original positions. Even then, Johnny soon looked a bit uncomfortable from the crushing hug that May continued to give him. However, he kept smiling and looked down at her.
“How’s my favorite first mate been doing?”
May released a bit, and beamed up into Johnny’s face. “I’m fine…” She said distractedly, having instantly forgotten all of the woes that had befallen her until this point. “But forget about that. What about you? You were in prison! I was so worried! I got in this tournament to try and get this Gear to bust you out…”
Johnny gave a nod. “I heard about that. April and the rest of the crew told me everything. Pretty brave of you, May, to go in all by yourself.”
May’s eyes nearly teared in joy as her face turned as red as a tomato. She nearly swooned before managing to calm down a bit. After composing herself, however, she looked a bit more anxiously at her idol.
“But how did you get out of that jail by yourself? We tried thinking of everything to bust you…”
Johnny cracked a cocky smile and put his hands on his hips.
“Oh, you all didn’t have to worry about me. There isn’t a prison built that can hold Johnny Sfondi. All I had to do was wait until the guard came by to move me to the interrogation room. She was a pretty young thing…so it wasn’t in my heart to hurt a lady that much. I settled for just knocking her out. After that, it was simply a matter of beating up every last guard in that entire institution and pirating the first transport plane I got my hands on.”
May continued to beam at him. “You’re so valiant, Johnny…” She spoke with dreamlike admiration. Yet as she looked on at him…her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “…What’s that on your neck?”
Immediately, Johnny’s smile faltered. Nearly giving off a bead of sweat, he reached up around his collar and quickly pulled it up and over a red splotch that seemed to match a certain woman’s lips. “Um…nothing. Must have gotten scratched there during the escape is all.”
May seemed to accept this answer, and soon went on smiling.
“As soon as Johnny met back up with us, we came out to pick you up.” April continued for him. “There’s a locater in all of our uniforms. All I had to do was lock on to your location and come and get you.” After this, the pirate blushed somewhat and gave an innocent shrug. “Sorry I didn’t think to give you a way of contacting us. I didn’t hear until now how rough this tournament was. We heard on the radio there were all sorts of bloodthirsty types coming in. The IPF is getting ready to swarm the island. And you said that there really was a Gear here?”
May impatiently raised a hand and waved it at April without looking. “Yeah, yeah…it was great…” Immediately she snapped it back and clung onto Johnny again, already starting to lead him back to the ship. “Now tell me more about how you escaped, Johnny. I want to hear your whole story…”
The hulk had managed to make it considerably north of the city. It had taken quite some time, but he still had enough strength to make it that distance in a short period. Once there, he curved toward the nearest beach, one of the potential rendezvous points. But long before any of this had happened, he had sent another message toward Zepp. This one announced that the mission was over. The target was neutralized. As for potential technology, it was unrecoverable.
He wasn’t able to give a bigger report until he had arrived at the point. This was one of several he was supposed to go for when he needed to be picked up. His superiors had recognized it might not be prudent to do so in the middle of the hot zone. As he had expected, they were en route to the Gear’s base before he had given them a call. Yet on hearing his message, and realizing that he had carried out his original duty, they altered course to this area instead. In the time it took the giant to arrive, he only had about ten minutes of idle time before a massive, fully armed, Zepp air battleship touched down on the shore.
There were several soldiers moving about now, but they weren’t going to be there long. They were investigating as much of the area as possible before they had to leave again. The IPF had already responded with greater numbers, and Zepp wasn’t willing to pick a fight with them at this time. They would have to settle for what they could get while they could.
That left Potemkin here, much in the same position as he had been in when he arrived. None of them seemed to mind his injuries that much. That was fine by him. Most of it was just dermal anyway. Even Kliff Undersn had barely been able to leave any lasting damage on him. However…that still left him with the matter of General Gabriel…and the matter he had before this started. And the fact that he had to hope he believed his tale. He was struggling to draw up on his old irritation and aggression and use that to mask up his fear. He hoped it worked…
Although he wasn’t in the comfort of an office, the general still looked as rough and ready as he normally had. He kept his gaze leveled on Potemkin, his arms behind his back, and his look stony and businesslike.
“So…that’s all?” The General asked. “This is what you have to report? The Gear is dead but the weapon systems he devised are unrecoverable?”
“Yes sir.” Potemkin simply responded.
“But you can confirm it was a Gear?”
“Yes sir.”
Gabriel crossed his arms in front of him next. He turned his head to the ground and thought for a moment. His finger tapped against his elbow.
“…I must say, I’m not all that pleased or impressed.” Gabriel answered. “This is probably the sloppiest job you’ve ever done for us. You barely managed what I would consider as ‘success’ in the first place.”
Potemkin struggled not to shake. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this, but he interpreted it as prying. He had to say something to try and cover it up.
“…I could have ran.” He finally stated.
“Indeed you could have.” Gabriel nearly snapped back. “But instead, you do the job so ineffectively that you make me question your usefulness in this scenario in the first place. It would have been far simpler for you to just wait for us to come in.”
“I did what I had to do given the amount of time.” Potemkin immediately lied. “There were other people in the area, and each one was a real threat…”
“I’m afraid I care little for your excuses.” Gabriel cut off, turning his head back up to the slave soldier. Potemkin leveled his gaze at him, and suppressed inner irritation. However…something about Gabriel’s stare unnerved him. It seemed to be deep…probing…as if it was sifting around what he said and deeper into his story. Potemkin, on seeing this, felt a bit uneasy within. He thought he was straight-faced enough with his lies. Was he?
“The fact of the matter is that you were captured almost immediately after contacting us, and you escaped from the heart of the facility without anything to show for it other than that the target is dead. We wanted him alive at best. And we wanted to recover something of what he was using in the first place. That was an implied priority…one that you ignored. I know full well in the past you’ve displayed considerable chagrin toward Zepp authority and government. And since you can’t directly disobey us, it makes sense that you might try and do something a bit more…underhanded, so to speak? And your handling of this mission makes me seriously believe such was the case.”
Potemkin felt his heart begin to slow. He struggled to maintain a poker face…but he couldn’t keep his eyes from widening.
“…I know better than that, General. You still had my family.”
“We still have your family, soldier.” Gabriel immediately countered. Potemkin’s fear vanished for a moment as his blood boiled. He should have known it all along. They hadn’t let them go yet. Of course…why would they? Why would they make any deals with a slave soldier at all? Why would they care to respect honor or duty or anything with him?
“And this wouldn’t be the first time that a slave soldier has had a surge of rebellious, if foolish, bravery. You especially have had a rather great streak of it. You might not have been able to hurt us…but you could take away something we wanted, yes? You knew from the start that you were so valuable that you’d only be put on jobs which were of great aid to us, yes?”
Potemkin couldn’t help it. He swallowed.
“Sir…I only cared about getting this job done… I wanted to get back to my family…”
“I’m sorry, soldier…but I’m afraid I don’t believe your priorities are fully in order…or that you have Zepp’s best interests in mind.” Gabriel coldly concluded.
Potemkin felt his hands begin to sweat. Anxiety began to fill through him…and it drove his mind to think. This was it. He had to try. He always wondered whether or not the explosives could kill him, or if the control was only in the hands of the immediate officers in the vicinity. He had to attack. It would take a miracle, but he might be able to bring them all down before they shot. If he didn't, he'd die for certain now. After that…he’d just have to play it by ear. There was nowhere he could run or hide, but he had to try…
“And because of this…" Gabriel continued. "I am immediately assigning you a new mission to demonstrate to me where your loyalties lie.”
Right before Potemkin was about to spring forward and wring the neck of the officer…he stopped himself. His face actually turned to a bit of puzzlement. The General, however, didn’t change. He kept his arms behind him and looked ahead to the slave soldier. His face was as stony and calm as always. That was it.
Potemkin couldn’t believe it. Perhaps he truly was as valuable as he thought. They weren’t going to kill him. They were going to send him out on another mission. Normally he hated these things. The thought of doing another mission right after one would have driven him to rage. And yet, right now…it almost sounded as if he had been pardoned off death row. He had to resist looking too eager or excited, showing that he had excessive gratefulness. Yet as he held on longer…he realized there had to be a catch. These things weren’t that simple. It wasn’t how Zepp worked. Something about this mission had to be designed to punish him. He held on, bowing his head humbly, and waited to hear what.
Gabriel cleared his throat, and then raised his head a bit more.
“Your current mission is this. You will accompany us back to Zepp. At that time, you will be dropped at the foot of the capitol building. You will ascend to the highest floor and capture the High Administrator. With any luck, we’ll be able to use him to get many of the high officers to surrender without a fight.”
Potemkin’s head stayed bowed for a moment…before that phrase fully sunk into his brain. When it did, his head snapped back up and he looked at Gabriel in total confusion.
“…Excuse me?” He forgot to add the designation.
Gabriel frowned at this. “Did I stutter, soldier? Or should I say, Potemkin? Your mission is to carry out one of the most important steps in Zepp’s revolution.”
The giant looked even more stunned.
“Did you say…revolution?”
“Yes.” The officer calmly answered. “This airship…these officers…myself…for the moment we are all still fully in Zepp’s employment. However, all of us have already entered into a pact with one another to be one of seven battleships that will launch an attack on Zepp’s main capitol within a few hours.” A pause. “…I’d very much appreciate it if you joined us, Potemkin.”
The hulk didn’t answer. His face was still full of confusion. He couldn’t understand what he was hearing. It sounded like a joke…like he was misunderstanding something. But was General Gabriel saying what he thought he was saying? He gaped at him silently without change for a few moments.
Seeing this, Gabriel inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. He bowed his head and stepped toward the giant. One of his gloved hands came up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he removed it, he looked back to the giant’s face. His voice was still very strong and hard…but his face looked just the slightest bit softer.
“Are you confused? Are you unable to believe that you can see a military officer that hates Zepp as much as you do? I was born into the higher military elite of Zepp, Potemkin. But I was not apart from people just like you. When I was younger I had many friends who were in the lower slave class. As I grew up, my father tried to start separating me from them. He started to try and educate me in the system of predestiny. I was to be the ‘haves’. They were to be the ‘have-nots’. However, my father, and the other higher officers of Zepp made a critical error. They tried to keep the world below apart from you, but they couldn’t from us. If they tried, we would have been ignorant and two-dimensional in command abilities. We had to learn.
“It wasn’t long before I started to see that Zepp was a government designed only to sustain itself to the subrogation of everyone else, including its people. It was a parasite, forced to consume everything and produce nothing to survive. I stayed with my friends who were slaves for years. All the way up through military school I broke off to visit them. Each time I saw them growing sicker and weaker, until they were eventually worked to death. They hoped that would ‘break my ties’ to them. Instead, it pushed me over the edge.
“I worked very hard to get where I am. I studied tactics night and day. I made friends with all the right people. I went through all of the appropriate motions for decades. And do you know why? So that I could be exactly where I am right now. Right in the position where I can slip as many knives between as many shoulder blades as possible. In the position where I can bring this totalitarian dictatorship crashing down from the false Heaven it created off of blood and broken backs. I’ve spent half my life making the appropriate ties, agreements, and partnerships. I had to work as an extensive puppeteer in order to get everything in perfect place. And now, right now, is the time to finally set the revolution into motion.”
Some of Potemkin’s confusion vanished…but still he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The man was serious. He really was intending to carry out a toppling of Zepp's government. And he was going to do it now...right now. And he was telling him all about it.
Of course...that didn't necessarily mean much. All that Gabriel was talking about was a revolution. If he caused one, it could be to create his own dictatorship under him. He was saying quite a few flowery things, but ideals seemed to die out quickly when power had to be maintained. He was sure that he had managed to win over quite a few with this talk. Yet for all he knew, he was just doing this in order to try and persuade Potemkin to his cause. Play off of his irritation and frustrations with life, and use him as a tool. Isn't that what leaders did? Made tools out of everyone else? Zepp had...
And yet…Potemkin didn’t quite believe that. The look in his eyes…the passion that was beginning to fill his voice and undertones… It seemed completely out of place in a Zepp officer. They were supposed to only support the system. This kind of passion and voice…he had only heard of it before among slaves who grew tired of being treated like dogs. They did rise to rebel…and invariably were killed. Yet the voice, the tone, and the passion through them was what mattered. And that’s what Potemkin saw right now in the face and body of General Gabriel. He saw the fervor traveling through him as well as the coldness of his expressions of loathing and anger. Thoughts begin to arise in Potemkin's brain...possibilities...
He’s serious.
He really wants to cause a revolution.
Gabriel paused for a moment to take in a deep breath, and then spoke on.
“…I know you let that technology get lost on purpose, Potemkin.” He continued. “I’ve spent years learning how to read people. I could see it in your eyes. That’s exactly why I want you. Not just for your strength and your abilities. Because you’re a man who knows when something needs to be done, no matter what price has to be paid. I was right. According to Zepp, this was probably your greatest failure. But according to me…this confirms what I want to know for certain. That you’re a man I want at my side when I remake Zepp into a better world.”
The General removed one hand from his back, and proceeded to delve it into his uniform coat pocket. He didn’t fish around at all. He immediately grabbed what he wanted and pulled it out. When he did, he twisted it around and held it in front of him so that Potemkin could see it.
On doing so…the giant couldn’t help but let his mouth hang down.
The key.
“You’ve proved yourself to me, Potemkin. But I have yet to prove myself to you. You probably can have little faith in me. You probably refuse to believe that a man like me could possibly care for these things. That I will just make myself a new High Administrator. And it’s because of that reason that I must do this.”
Immediately, Gabriel leaned forward and stuck his hand with the key out. A moment later, and Potemkin found himself trembling and sweating as he felt the slightest movement against him. His heart seemed to stop beating as he heard the key insert into the lock. A turn followed.
An eruption of steam went off around Potemkin’s neck…and then, for the first time in years, he felt his skin exposed as the metal loosened.
The hulk couldn’t move. Even when Gabriel leaned back and placed the key back in his pocket, and then crossed his arms behind him, he still couldn’t move. It was only after he was able to feel it for a while, to sense it, to know that it wasn’t a dream…that he was able to slowly move one of his huge hands up toward his neck. His long fingers slowly extended and moved around the metal collar. Yet now…he was able to lift it and fully put his fingers around it. His mouth still hung loosely. His eyes were aimed to the sky. His hand slowly tightened…and at long last, he forced himself to pull.
The collar easily slipped off of his neck. The skin felt the gentle breeze for the first time in an eternity.
Potemkin couldn’t help it. He felt his eyes begin to tear. He was free.
His arm fell to the side and released. The collar fell to the ground with a heavy thud and lay there motionless. The giant raised his hand to his neck and felt around, relishing the sensation that was there. Gabriel let him do so for a short time. But then, he spoke up again.
This time…Potemkin found himself willingly looking down and listening.
“You’re free to choose your own destiny now, Potemkin.” Gabriel announced. “As for your wife and child…they’ve already been picked up by one of my subordinate officers. They’ll be dropped off safely in Paris very shortly. You can do whatever you wish. I’m sure the IPF will have no trouble releasing you once you’ve freely told them everything. You can go back to your family and happily live out the rest of your days.
“However…know this. There are many other people still on Zepp. Many other slaves. We were able to get yours out easy enough. The rest will have to be fought for. And there will be even more if we are unsuccessful in this revolution. There was a time in which Zepp was supposed to be a paradise. It can still be, if people are willing to work for it. I am one of those people. I will not compel you or bribe you or order you, Potemkin, but I will ask you, from one man to another. Are you willing to fight for a cause you believe in? And if so…are you willing to believe in mine? Will you help me?”
This last sentence…the last phrase…lost all command overtone and steel. It was just as Gabriel had said. It was a humble request, from one man to another. And to end it…Gabriel raised his hand out to the giant. He was offering him to take it.
Potemkin’s hand left his neck. He looked to Gabriel, to his hand, and then back to him. He didn’t move yet. Part of him was telling him to turn and go. Why stay? He had his wife and child at last. He was in a position where he could no longer be used or tricked. He was free. He could tear this little man in half right now if he wanted. A side of him said to spit on this man’s ideals. He’d be made a fool of again. He should leave that island and let it rot. What should he care?
It didn’t take long for those thoughts to evaporate.
The fact was that he did care. If he hadn’t, he would have simply done as the High Administrator wanted and provided him with the Gear and the weapons. But no…he had taken his spot in that tunnel and been unable to move. And if it wasn’t for Kliff Undersn, who had looked with pity on his plight, he might have made a terrible mistake. If it wasn’t for the sacrifice of that crazed man, he would now be dead. You couldn’t go around in life apart from other people and not caring. Perhaps if the government had cared about more except themselves, then none of this would have ever happened. And in spite of everything else…he couldn’t leave the rest of the slaves there. He may have never realized it until now, or believed it mattered (he had to look out for his own family), but now he had a choice…
Potemkin stared longer at Gabriel’s face. He saw that it had been hard and strong. However…there had been something that stood out from it from the first day he met him. At first, he thought it was something bad. Something that made him harder and more merciless. Only now did he realize what it was. There were lines of cruelty on Zepp's military elite. The lines that had formed themselves on the faces of every high officer, every soldier, and every taskmaster. The lines that showed that this person had ceased to think of the slaves as human beings and thought of them as animals. The lines that showed that this person saw the world as an enemy and a thing to be conquered, not anything to want or look after. The lines that showed the chalk outline of a murdered conscience and an empty soul.
Gabriel looked harder, fiercer, roughter, and more steadfast than the meanest general in the world…
But he didn’t have those lines.
And when Potemkin saw this…he believed him at last.
The giant swallowed once and shut his mouth completely. His own eyes became fierce and dedicated. He extended his hand out and took Gabriel’s.
For the first time, and one of the few times he would ever see it, the General smiled.
“Zepp’s orbit is nearly here. We attack in two hours. We’ll need to get you bandaged up and ready.”
The General turned around, and began to march back to the air battleship.
“General?”
Gabriel halted, and turned back to Potemkin. The giant hesitated a moment, but then looked down and looked to his feet. The heavy collar still lay there. He stared at it for a long time, seeming to try and make a decision.
“…Will this collar lock and prime for detonation if it’s collapsed again?”
The General hesitated on hearing this, but shook his head. “No. Those functions are controlled by the key, and it’s been unlocked.”
Potemkin hesitated a bit longer, still looking at it. He was still thinking about his decision. A bit to Gabriel’s surprise, when he did react, he leaned down, snatched the collar off of the ground, put it around his neck again, and collapsed it. Now wearing the slave symbol again, he began to walk after Gabriel toward the airship.
The General regarded him with confusion. As soon as he was alongside, he began to walk with him.
“Why did you do that?” He asked.
“Two reasons.” Potemkin answered. “The first is that I want the world to know that I am a soldier still, but that now I am my own master. I choose when my restraints are off. And I want to remember what it was like to wear this…so that if things ever turn this way again I will know what it meant to wear this yoke.”
Gabriel showed little reaction other than he contemplated this reasoning. After a pause, he spoke again. “And the other reason?”
Potemkin cracked his own smile for the first time he could remember.
“…So that I’ll be able to see the High Administrator soil himself when he tries to blow me up.”
“I’ll agree to that once I’ve seen his body.” The Commander grumbled in response. “Again, I don’t envy you having to explain yourself. I thought you were someone we could depend on.”
“I believe I acted fully in accordance with the best possible outcome.” Ky answered. “In my opinion, that makes me very dependable.”
The officer gave him a glare. “You can tell that to the Commissioner’s face and see if he agrees. Why don’t you throw that insubordinate tone in with it, while you’re at it? I’m sure that will go over well.”
Ky stared back at the man for a moment, but then swallowed a bit and bowed his head in respect. “I apologize, sir.”
The Commander merely snorted. “Is there anything else you can tell us about this incident that might end up being useful?”
Ky hesitated a moment, but then raised his head. He paused again here, as if he was uncertain whether or not he should say this. Yet in the end, he decided to speak.
“There is one thing, sir. I found out something invaluable about Sol Badguy.”
The Commander groaned. “Him again. That’s all you care about. Damnit, Captain…if you botched up this mission so that you could pursue your stupid little vendetta for him…” He growled a moment, and then looked to Ky and glared at him right in the eyes. The look was so angry and fierce that it made the knight lean back.
“Listen up and listen good, Captain.” He barked, nearly like an angry adult disciplining a child. “I’m getting sick of you going off on your own and I’m not alone. Your insubordination is really starting to irritate the higher ups. If you want to stay on duty, you better start shaping up. Enough of your stupid knight’s code, enough of your stupid rivalry, and enough of you taking the law into your own hands. You do what you’re told and only what you’re told. And you stop questioning your orders at critical moments. Understand?”
Ky stared back silently. His mouth hung very slightly. It seemed as if he was surprised by that sudden tirade. However…one only had to look a bit more to realize it wasn’t the tirade alone that had done it. The words themselves had impacted him. They were sinking into him, and he was throwing them around in his brain. The Commander didn’t care about that. Perhaps it meant he was finally letting this sink in. After a moment, the knight’s mouth closed. He stared back expressionlessly and emotionlessly at the officer. The Commander realized he was done thinking, and finally straightened up.
“Now…what’s so damn important about Sol Badguy that you consider it of any value in the face of how much you let slip up?”
Ky didn’t react. For a moment, he simply stared back. He showed no emotion. After a moment, however…his face turned just the slightest bit grim as his eyes turned down. A faraway look went into them.
“…I have reason to believe he’ll be headed to Norway instead of France.” He spoke quietly.
The Commander grit his teeth and practically hissed. “Who gives a rat’s ass…” He grumbled as he turned and began to march over to some of the nearby investigating soldiers.
Ky was left sitting alone in his position. For about a minute, he continued to stare at the ground and stayed silent and emotionless. After that, however…he calmly resumed doctoring his wounds.
A shifting of feet was heard rushing up to him. Once it reached about six feet away, it halted. The Commander, still having a rather dark look, turned away from the bloody position and to his side. One of the police officers in charge of investigation was standing there and saluting. The Commander recognized him as the one who was supposed to inspect the power plant area.
“Report.” He stated.
“We’ve combed the entire plant, sir.” The officer answered. “We’ve found signs of a struggle and bloodstains, but the body of Zato-1 is nowhere to be found.”
The Commander grit his teeth and turned away. “Couldn’t even do that right, could you, Captain…?” He grumbled aloud. “Dead my ass…” After this, he turned back to the officer. “Can you see about tracking him?”
The man ruefully shook his head. “No sir. The blood stains are close to a day old at this point, and the field spectronomer reveals it’s only Captain Kiske’s blood. The only proof Zato-1 was ever there at all is a pair of shattered lenses.”
The Commander continued to look annoyed, and sighed as he turned back around. “…The coast guard better get out here soon. This area’s too big for us to cover. If we’re not careful, the one target we should have gotten is going to slip through our fingers…”
It didn’t go unnoticed. The two crewmembers of the yacht stirred on hearing it. Both were perched in lawn chairs on deck with fishing rods over the side, essentially idling until their boss came back. A case of beer was open between them, although it hadn’t been touched in quite a while. Both of them had been napping most of the morning. However, on hearing the sound of the palm slam down, both snapped up and looked over to the side of the boat.
One of them immediately brightened and began to rise.
“Boss!”
Their boss didn’t answer. Instead…his body looked frozen and immobile for a moment before the arm seemed to spasm, although it was simply tightening fast. Almost in an uncontrolled movement, the form of the man shot up and over the edge of the boat. It did so quick it nearly spilled forward and over. The legs moved stiffly and rigidly to try and stop it from falling. As it was, it only managed to keep it from falling part of the way. The body still hunched over and propped itself up with one hand.
The other crewmember rose, and with the first they began to look uneasy at this. “Boss?” The first called out again. “You alright?”
The form didn’t answer. It stayed frozen in that position. Occasionally…a random muscle moved briefly, almost as if it was testing it to see if it would move the body in a way that improved it. It did not, however. Soon, the two men noticed this, and both got up and began to rush over to the man’s side.
His blond hair was messy and dirty, and splayed over most of his face. All that one could clearly make out over his face was a strip of black cloth that had been torn from his clothes and tied over his eyes. The body itself was charred in several places from severe burns. The clothing was peeling off along with the skin. It hardly seemed possible that such a man could be alive. As the two ran up to the sides of the man, they realized this…and grew even more horrified at what they were seeing. Little did either of them know that the skin already looked a lot better than it had yesterday.
Once at the man’s side, they didn’t wait to be asked. They immediately grabbed his arms and pulled them up. Both failed to notice the fingers of the man instinctively formed claws and tried to pierce the skin of their wrists. It wasn’t until the man was fully up that they relaxed. Both crewmembers supported him after this.
The man’s body lay limp in their grasp. The head hung down, as if the neck had no muscle in it.
“Boss…what happened to you?” The first crewmember asked.
“Did that bitch do this to you?” The second chimed in.
The man didn’t answer. Instead…his legs stiffly tried to shift underneath him. They were rigid, not flexible as they should have been for normal posture. The head stayed down a moment. But then…at long last, some sort of force went into it. Slowly, the neck went rigid, and the head was drawn up with it. It took a few moments, but soon it leaned back, and let the hair spill away from it. The face beneath was revealed for both men to see.
It was definitely the face of Zato-1. A bit burned along the neck and cheeks, but him none the less. His shades had been replaced with the strip of black cloth. However, something was different. The face looked like that of someone who had a stroke. No facial twitches. No muscle tightening. No expression. It was blaise and lifeless.
Both men looked in at this.
“Boss?”
Very slowly, the man’s lips cracked. A noise seemed to come from his throat. It was deep and guttural. It twisted and warped as it went forth. After a moment, the tongue within the mouth seemed to twist. It was weird. It was like someone knew what he wanted to say…but didn’t know how to make his body work to say it. As a result, it took a few moments before, in an almost inhuman tone, they heard a single world come out.
“Drrrrr…iiiii…vvvvvve…”
“Tony, he said drive.” The second crewmember spoke up.
The first immediately nodded. “You got it boss. We’ll be back home in a snap.” He turned over to the other and motioned. “Get him into a chair.”
The second nodded back. A moment later, and the first took off. As for the second, he put his arm around the man’s waist, turned, and began to lead him back to the lawn chairs. The legs of the man worked, but they were still too stiff and rigid to do much. He didn’t appear capable of keeping balance. After a bit of work, the second crewmember managed to get the man to a chair. He immediately got him around and lowered him into one. He adjusted him so that he was upright and comfortable, and then backed off slightly.
“You need anything boss, just ask.”
The man didn’t answer. His head rolled to the side uselessly. He looked almost catatonic. The crewmember looked worried at this, but stepped back and sat in his own lawn chair soon after.
A couple of minutes later, and the engines on the ship roared to life. A minute after that, and the yacht began to pull back and make its way away from the island. The limp man stayed motionless the whole time. The second crewmember looked to him anxiously throughout. He could barely tell if the man was alive or dead. He kept up like this as the ship went into gear and fired up to full speed. Soon, it was pulling away on its newest course, taking it far from England and back to Europe.
It was only then that the limp man moved. Abruptly, his head snapped around and looked to the side facing the crewmember. This man, anxiously watching him in his chair, perked up at this. Only then did he realize that the man wasn’t looking to him. He seemed to be looking down to the case of beer between them. That puzzled the crewmember. Wasn’t Zato-1 supposed to be blind? He didn't know that they had put that case there. So how did he see it?
He didn’t know, but he must have seen it somehow. Suddenly, moving like a snake snap, the arm of the man came to life, shot out with fingers outstretched, and lunged for a bottle. It missed by a wide margin, but the man didn’t stop. He let out what sounded like some sort of whine/hiss…and his hand swept back in an arch until it grasped the long neck of a beer. Immediately, he yanked it back up and snapped it back to his body, appearing to catch it against his chest. He next raised the neck up to his mouth. Once there, to the crewmember’s surprise, he extended his head over it, opened his mouth, grasped the end, and then bit the bottlecap off. He snapped his head to the side, again seeming erratic, and spat it out, and then turned back to the bottle. To the crewmember’s unease, he tipped it in the air and back, and let the contents rush out and over his face. It splashed over his hair and his eyes before it finally managed to get over its mouth. When it did, the man didn’t drink it normally. He just let it flow into his open jaw, swallowing some and letting the rest fizzle out over him.
Once the bottle was empty, the arm of the man swung down and smashed the bottle into a hundred pieces. The crewmember leapt back a bit at that in his chair. The limp man didn’t seem to notice. The faint outline of a smile went out as he turned his head back to the cooler. He reached out and grabbed another. This time…he hit it on his first try, and brought it back much more carefully. Soon he bit off the head of this one, cutting his gums but not seeming to care, and then began to drink this one sloppily as well. However, this time he aimed it over his mouth on the first try as well. Much more went down his throat too.
The crewmember swallowed a bit.
“Boss…are you feeling ok?”
The bottle was swung down and smashed again, right next to the previous one. The man let out a satisfied “ah”, and then leaned back a bit in his chair. As his smile widened a bit more, he looked up to the sky.
The crewmember couldn’t tell for sure…but he almost thought he saw red lights underneath that cloth covering his eyes.
The man spoke, still rough and sluggish…but far clearer this time.
“Caaaall…meeee…Eddieeee…”
“Report.”
“We managed to excavate to the area of what we believe was Testament’s base of operations.” The officer responded. “But I regret to say it will take some time for us to get any further through it. The area has been filled with interlocking tree branches and roots. It resembles some of the security systems the Gears used back when they occupied Eastern Europe. Clearing it out without damaging any technologies will require chainsaws and time.”
The Commander frowned yet again. This wasn’t his day.
“There’s no way through it at all?”
The officer regretfully shook his head. “No sir. The entire area is almost like a solid wall. There is one thin opening into the interior, but no human could squeeze through it.”
It was almost like toothpaste being squeezed through a tube. The head just barely cleared the drain, and the body beyond it seemed to expand and flatten out as it came. The other arm was flush against it, unable to be used and only being compressed against the already thin body to get it out. As he slowly drew himself out over the edge, he finally managed to get the other arm free, and used that to pull the rest of his body out. The legs themselves had been too compressed to use in the gutter. They had been fairly useless through the trek, and remained locked together as the man pulled them out.
Once over the edge, however, it was revealed that the feet were pinched around half of a giant scalpel. As soon as his whole body came forth, he reached over and took it in one hand. He next cracked his legs and joints a few times and then put them underneath him. Letting out a long exhale of relief, he stood up and examined his location.
It was farther away from the city and the headquarters. Only the distant sound of IPF officers was audible. He was deeper in a forest, and on a hilltop overlooking both the city he had been in and the sea far in the distance. There were some distant voices, but for the most part he was totally in the clear. They couldn’t get to him now, especially with how well he could hide.
Because of all of this…the battered, dirty, and injured man cracked a wide, toothless smile. It was a bit unsettling at first to look at…but if one looked a bit longer, they’d realize that it was friendly and innocent. If one stared at it long enough, got to know what was behind it well enough…they might even grow to like it.
The doctor’s clothing was in shreds. Most of it had been torn prying himself free from the roots. His muscles were nearly exhausted from cutting his way out. The scalpel had been worn permanently dull. It would have to be sharpened or replaced. His face was a mess. He had reset as many of the bones as possible, but he had to use old newspapers for bandages to cover up most of it. Now he was some twisted, bloody, paper mache man on most of his head. Yet despite all of this…the doctor hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
It felt as if he had spent years under a cloud of misery, and yet now it had finally cleared. For so long, he could never seen anything except that bloody operating table. Now he could see everything. The forest…the sky…the sun…all of the world. All of it looked beautiful and hopeful again. His soul had been unchained. He was free. Even now, when he thought his final act would be to atone for his sins by saving those strangers while giving up his life…it turned out he was wrong. Nancy was still looking out for him. He managed to escape, and was free again to live a new life.
The doctor hardly knew what to do first. He felt lighter than air…even giddy. He didn’t know how he could begin. He didn’t know if he could begin. The name of Dr. Baldhead was synonymous with twisted evil and abominations. Although he now wanted to try, how would he be able to gain people’s trust again? Where could he start from this? Would he try to open his own practice again? Fulfill the hospital or school idea? No…that was no good. Even if he had enough clout for the world to allow him these luxuries, he didn’t want to encourage his pride again, or arouse the ire of others. He had to do something else…something different… But could he? Was it possible? Could he really make a new name for himself after everything he had done?
As the doctor thought of these things…something suddenly smacked him in the face. The wind had blown some sort of object against him. His eyebrows furrowed, and he quickly raised one of his spindly hands to grab it and pull it off. He extended it in front of him afterward, much as he used to view medical records or x-rays, and examined it. What he saw forced him to pause.
It was a normal paper bag.
If this was anywhere else, one might not have thought that was that spectacular. It was just trash. However…this wasn’t anywhere else, and soon it began to amaze the doctor. This was England. It was a place that had gone unused for years. No stores or grocers had operated here for nearly a century. And yet, somehow…through rain and war and fire and age…here was something. This paper bag still remained. It was a good one, too. Thick material. Durable. No wear or watermarks. The only folding was in its original packaging. In fact…it was perfect. It was the most perfect little paper bag the doctor had ever seen.
The doctor looked at it a bit longer…and began to smile.
It was like providence had hit him. As if his burning bush from God had taken the form of an intact paper bag. To most others in the world this meant nothing, but he knew it meant that even after so much wear and tear and erosion and destruction, something simple could still emerge clean and untouched from it all. This bag seemed like such a little piece of useless garbage, but it wasn’t. It was every bit as good as it had been when it was first made. It was every bit as useful. It would hold just as much groceries or goods as any other bag in the world. Maybe even more so.
The same thing was for him. It didn’t matter how he had been ravaged both physically and mentally. That was because he still had his skill. His talent. His perfect hands. And he could use them just as good now as he ever could. There was a part of him that was still unspoiled after everything that happened, and he could put it to the betterment of the world.
He knew now it was possible, and he’d do it. As he used to wander in the shadows to bring death, now he’d slip in and out of them to bring life. He’d go from being an angel of death to a miraculous deliverer. He’d prey on disease and ailments now, helping people who were too poor or far gone to get help from anyone else. His purpose was clear to him now, and seemed more likely and certain than anything else in his life ever had. This innocent paper bag was the sign. The promise.
Still smiling, the doctor flipped the bag open. He shifted one hand underneath it, right to where his one unswollen eye would poke through, and proceeded to punch an eyeglass-sized piece through it. With that, he pulled it up and calmly slipped the bag over his own head. Other might call it ridiculous…but this was his new identity. Dr. Baldhead had been put to death in that room. He would be a new doctor…no, a healer… The greatest of them all. And he would take on the name of the most infamous doctor of all, one who also made a journey from damnation to salvation.
“We haven’t recovered the one of Dr. Baldhead yet.” The man answered.
The Commander hesitated a moment, but then gave a nod. “Very well. Dismissed.”
Both officers saluted, and then turned and began to march away. The Commander himself gave a sigh and turned around back to Ky’s position. As he did, he looked above it a bit, on to where the ruined stadium was. There were a few drop ships there. One was picking up the body of Kliff Undersn. As soon as news hit the media that he was dead, there was likely going to be an international day of mourning or something. Ky would probably screw up and blab it out as soon as he was back. That would get the media working on finding out what they were doing there in the first place, and that would be a problem if word of a Gear being present came out enough to be blown out of proportion. That Captain was definitely growing to be far more trouble than he was worth…
Luckily…the Commander knew already that enough data had been collected from this mission for the boys in engineering to have something real to work with. They wouldn’t have to worry about a human element in the IPF much longer…
“Commander!”
The officer once again looked up and turned around. A third officer was coming up to him, no doubt with a report. He soon reached him and proceeded with the same salute as the second. Something small was being held in one of his hands. However, the Commander turned fully to this one. Here was something he actually wanted to hear.
“Have you recovered Testament’s body yet?”
The man looked regretful in response. “Sorry, sir. The directions Captain Kiske gave us were vague at best. We have an area of four city blocks to cover. Two of them are overgrown ruins. It could take hours to find anything there.”
The higher officer’s eyes narrowed.
“I want his body, Lieutenant. Don’t come back to me without it.”
In response to this, the Lieutenant began to tighten up his grip and raise something.
“That’s why I came back, sir. We haven’t recovered the body yet, but we believe we have it located to one of the ruins. There were some shreds of a black uniform there, stained with blood. Part of it was burned, so it likely had contact with Sol Badguy’s blade. Yet some sort of pocket was retained inside it. It contained this.”
The officer extended his hand. The Commander looked down in response. He was presenting to him a small, spiral notepad. It looked like it would typically be used for sketching small notations rather than anything major. Its cover was still intact, but it had been half burned away, and singed around the edges.
“One paper had been removed from it.” The Lieutenant continued. “However, whoever did so, who we can probably assume was Testament himself, he forgot to remove the second page behind it. I took the liberty of making a rubbing with a pencil. It’s incomplete, but it does offer a clue.”
The Lieutenant proceeded to flip open the cover. The current first page was revealed, having been marked with pencil, and was brought up in front of the Commander’s face to see. The higher officer himself narrowed his gaze and leaned in a bit closer to read it.
Only one word and a fragment was there.
Find D
The End
FINAL NOTES: Well everyone, thank you all for sticking through this story to the end. Based on the stats, I estimate that only about one out of every ten people who read the first chapter stayed on to read the whole story. So if you're one of them, thanks!
I thank you all very much for the nice feedback as well. There were quite a few points I thought I'd make people upset due to a few liberties with the plotline. I tried my best to make it flush with the endings, but seeing as history differs a bit depending on which game or ending you obtain, it was kind of hard. In this last chapter, I tried taking many of the endings and fitting them in the canon, although particular fighters didn't win the tournament (i.e. Potemkin's freeing by Gabriel, Dr. Baldhead's transformation into Faust, and the first appearance of Johnny).
I also am glad you all enjoyed it despite my own feelings. To be honest, this fanfiction didn't come out the way I wanted. With so many characters to juggle and plotlines around, I don't think I used nearly as much time as I wanted to develop Chipp's character or story (My least favorite fight is Chipp vs. Sol). And May, who is actually one of my favorites, got practically sidelined. I tried making Justice practically "god-like" in fighting ability, but all that ended really coming out was physical material.
Several people have asked me if I would do a Guilty Gear X novelization next. For now...I'm going to definitely have to say no. Doing the multitude of fight sequences in this story was extremely difficult, and Guilty Gear X features a lot more characters to try and keep track of (especially if I use a plus version and include characters like Bridget [who honestly scares me and Slayer). It's also much harder to set up. Very few of the characters in Guilty Gear X are actually out to kill Dizzy, and as a result it's hard to put together conflicts which would lead to a fight. I'd probably be able to do Sol vs. Ky, Millia vs. Eddie, and Millia vs. Venom...possibly Baiken going around picking fights with whoever...but other than that I'd just have to have Testament and Dizzy beat up on everyone. Also, I'm not fully in tune with everything in the "Guilty Gear" universe. I've already changed at least one plot item. I'm not sure how worse it would get with Guilty Gear X, especially since that game has far more multiple endings. I know I don't want to do a Guilty Gear XX novelization...
For now, for those of you who may have followed me here, I'm going to continue with the fifth part of "The Servant". See you around.