#Or is it rather... something like... One's status in an army? Like. General. Commander. Lieutenant. Etc.

[xbraveheartx]

It just occurred to me... Fuoco's full boss title... is King's Flame, Fuoco.

... Romeo... Romeo I have QUESTIONS...

[crispyjenkins]

fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)

(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao

i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip. 

support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)

  It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.

  Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6. 

  Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else. 

  Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign. 

  Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.

  Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?

  "Master?"

  Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

  She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."

  The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.

  "I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."

  Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."

  Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”

-

  When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.

  The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself. 

  That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.

  "Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression. 

  "Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."

  "I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"

  Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."

  "Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."

  They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate. 

  The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.

  He could never refuse Jango, after all. 

  "You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve. 

  "'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.

  And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."

  He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them. 

  Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.

  Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then. 

  His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him. 

  "Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.

  Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners. 

  "Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.

  “Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind. 

  “It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.

  He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”

  Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”

  “That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”

  Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”

  Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”

  And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.

  “I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”

  “I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?

  Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.

  “And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.

  “I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

  Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”

  But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”

  Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”

  Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response. 

  “I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”

  Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”

  Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”

  “Could we do this later?”

  “Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”

  Jango looks to the ceiling for patience. 

-

Mando'a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.

[neostriatum]

All we are, and all we have...

[AO3] [Dreamwidth]

Title taken from these photos (archived version here) in one of photographer @rabbitinthemeadow's series. All Mando'a translated at the end.

--

Maul inhaled.

This was unusual, given his certainty that this time he had died. It had not quite been the death he had been craving, but it had been an honourable one at the hands of his arch-enemy, and the peace it had granted weighed heavily in his hearts despite their absurd insistence at beating.

Exhaling, he stretched his senses out into the Force. It was the surest way to place himself, and the thrum of the living against his mind was enough confirmation for him.

So. Alive again. And not even on Dathomir.

The walls of the palatial bedroom were obscenely Kryze’s, still holding the decorations and gilding he hadn’t the presence of mind to change early on in his reign. The confirmation laid bitterly on his tongue, and abruptly he was fed up with the idea of living on a planet he had already spent roughly twenty years on the first time.

The Force was a strange beast, and the idea that it could punish him by undoing so much of his life as he had breathed his last sounded about right. But- and he clenched the ridiculously expensive sheets in his grasp, but-

Light seeped into his skin, a thready but still present brush of warmth against his skin and senses. It reminded him of Kenobi, the gentle reassurance of peace as he died. It was almost cruel, how comforting the memory was, especially now that the destruction of the Jedi hadn’t happened yet.

His comm chirped, fracturing the euphoria of the revelation at hand. Maul clapped a hand to his mouth, not sure whether he was restraining a laugh or a sob. The Light was fracturing his resolve to the Sith, and all he could feel was relieved.

Forcing himself to steady, he pulled the comm to him, answering with a brusque, “Maul.”

Hope. What a strange feeling.

--

It was difficult, trying to undermine the goals Sidious had so deeply impressed on him that they were etched into his bones. But no longer did the man’s edicts reverberate in his lungs with every breath he took, filled instead were they with an unrestricted buoyancy that threatened to make him hover at the slightest provocation.

Was this how a Jedi felt? It baffled him, but also explained the way they seemed to flutter through the Force, a marvel of nature instead of a tragedy shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Meditation was at once easier and excruciating. The Force had always been a soul-sucking entropy, to be treaded carefully and yet bent to one’s will. But these shards of light burned, forcing growth in the holes in his soul that had been scraped raw where Sidious had laid claim. Where a grave once stood now blossomed a garden, and beauty caught his eye more often than grief as he accepted the Light making itself comfortable.

His thoughts strayed often, his deaths compounding and overlaid. Many times did he force himself to put his comm away, to restrain the urge to howl in the direction of Obi-Wan Kenobi and bring the entirety of the man’s formidable army upon Mandalore’s heads.

Perhaps, Maul pondered, it would provide suitable vengeance for Kenobi. To conquer the world of his once-lover and reassert balance sorely lacking in this galaxy.

The thought clung to his mind, a thorn catching on cloth, and it unraveled the loose plan. Kenobi - despite his once harshly-denied ties to the Dark - was not the type to exact his rage upon the world, no matter how deeply routed the ditch of grief ran in his heart.

No, only hope would attract hope. And Maul, with his own hearts still thudding painfully at the still-burning loss of his brother, knew Kenobi now better than the man himself did.

With a smirk, Maul gestured one of his soldiers close. There was a trap to be laid, and he knew just the bait.

--

Obi-Wan stared in bewilderment at the missive tied to the trooper in front of him. It was, to put it politely, unhinged chaos.

The trooper wasn’t even one of his - he had checked. And then handed the very long roster of the entire Third Systems Army to Cody to double-check. And then, on Anakin’s insistence, to R2.

“Well, Lieutenant,” He sighed apologetically, “It does indeed look like just a spot of bad luck.”

“If it helps, sir, I’ve got a clean bill of health.” Smoke offered, still looking a bit pole-axed to be in the same room as him and Cody, but faring rather well, all things considered.

Cody sighed even deeper than him, which had the expected impact of Smoke straightening his back to parade-perfect straightness. His commander waved the trooper back to at ease, pressing a thumb to his temple in an attempt to relieve the burgeoning migraine from this shit-show of a situation.

“Healthy except for a shaved head.” The commander commented, and wasn’t that the crux of it. No injuries, nor signs of surgery, though that was no guarantee given Smoke’s… transit time, and that in itself was a bundle of issues.

The good lieutenant shrugged, and, well- that did seem to be that. Only a lingering sign of sedation, but then being sent through the absurdly mundane postal system in an admittedly well-equipped box did carry that sort of assumption.

Helix, moving aside the privacy screens to perform another check on the trooper, patted them on the back, “Think about it this way, vod. You were important enough to be mailed first-class.”

Cody gave up all pretenses at maintaining an authoritative façade and groaned, “Usen’ye, vod.”

The medic made a wry, rude gesture back, chuckling. Helix clicked a few things on his datapad, and gestured to the trooper, “You’re good to go, vod. I’m recommending to put you on light duties in case anything crops up, but everything seems to be in order.”

“Oya!” Smoke grinned, looking forward to their unintentional vacation. Hopping off the cot, they grabbed their helmet and left, a bounce in their step.

“Well at least someone’s enjoying this,” Helix shook his head. He glanced at their Jedi, who was still scrutinizing the honest-to-gods paper that had come with Lieutenant Smoke, “What’s on that thing, anyway, General?”

Obi-Wan startled, smoothing his beard absently. “Oh, some sort of message,” He surmised, “I think someone’s asking for help.”

Cody grunted at that, sidling up to the general to peer over his shoulder. The message itself was in Mando’a, written neatly and precisely. “It is paper, though.” He said, “Are you able to-” “Check it for signatures?” Obi-Wan hummed, already switching the paper to one hand so he could remove the glove from his other. With glove sufficiently bitten and removed, the man mumbled, “Not quite as well as Quinlan.”

The two clones exchanged an amused look at the man’s single-minded intensity for a new discovery. It was dropped as quickly as the glove from their shocked general, a strangled gasp mingling with the dull thud of Obi-Wan’s glove as his hand laid as if riveted to the paper.

“General,” Cody said, tone stiff and demanding information.

Obi-Wan shook his head once, muttering the message out loud, a lilting cant to the words as he absorbed the new information. “K'olar, Kenobi. Jorhaa be mirjahaal.”

The intervening few moments were tense, and Cody wondered whether he should tap out an alert as a preemptive measure when his general’s gaze snapped to his. The blue eyes seemed to glow, something physically impossible for the man’s species and yet perfectly understandable for the scope of his mythological status.

It drew that familiar stirring of faith forth, and Cody nodding in acknowledgement. Whatever the General saw, he approved of, for he nodded back, seeming to fold himself back into his mortal form.

“Gentleman, I have a call to make.” Obi-Wan announced, “I believe we’re going to Mandalore.”

--

This lure of hope was maddening, tugging at his spirit in a fluctuating jerk of attention. Maul took to pacing more, which in turn drew the attention of Kyr'tsad and the few New Mandalorians that lingered in Kryze’s court.

“Alor.” Bo Katan interrupted him while he prowled in search of some way to release all of this damnably energy. Sparring had ceased to entertain him days ago, the thorough victories and the sheer fact that his rage was no longer reliable fuel.

Brave warrior that she was, the Kryze sister merely stared placidly back at his scowl. “Who is it, precisely, that we are expecting? There are rumors growing, and it would be better to quell the dissent.”

He exhaled sharply, feeling the burning warmth of the Light sinking deeper with the action. “Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc,” He chided her, a distant part of him relishing her shock at his smooth handling of this system’s language. “We are heading into a war, Kryze. And I have invited a powerful ally to bring us all to glory again.”

It was interesting, how stark the hope was that flooded his senses. And pleasing - for Maul was right. Hope brings hope, and only shall it grow when given room.

He felt the insistent tendrils of Light settling in his own hearts, and smirked at joyful look that greeted him.

--

Obi-Wan felt it difficult to meditate. He sighed, glancing in the direction of his desk, where that damnable paper was carefully stowed away.

The Force was an insistent swell, burgeoning with ultimately welcome but distinctly unhelpful feelings like joy and anticipation. He appreciated the encouragement to rest his worries, but feeling the remnants of Maul’s Force signature was only ever going to be unsettling.

Should he trust the sincerity ringing forth from Maul’s message? It wasn’t something that could be easily faked, but then specialists in Force artefacts like Quinlan were too far away for a quick consultation, and whatever was brewing now on Mandalore, it needed immediate attention.

Anakin was worried, and that in turn set himself on edge, dredging up the feeling of Satine’s cooling body in his arms and how much it had hurt to breathe through the fracturing of his heart.

And now, exactly like last time, Maul was at the center of it. But now, only Maul was at the center of it.

That in itself was a quandary, for Maul had become so prevalently obsessed with him since their first fight on Naboo. Not that Obi-Wan could say much, for a twin flame burned in his own spirit at the mere thought of the other man. Grief at lost opportunities, yes, but now he had to contend with an overture of… what?

Peace? Was that what Maul truly wanted, now? The Force seemed insistent that it was no lie, and the Force had never led him astray, no matter how confusing the path.

He inhaled, loosing his spirit into the currents of the Force once more. One tone stayed with him, and it was the consistent feeling of hope.

Whatever it was, it would be alright. Obi-Wan had to trust that.

--

Entering the Mandalore system was nerve-wracking on its own, their only steering the stark thread of faith beating along with Obi-Wan’s heart. With Cody at his right hand, and Anakin at his left, he managed to feel unmoored from the reality of how quickly access was granted to the Negotiator as they made their way to the capital planet.

His troops seemed to sense that they were about to escort their general into some battle they couldn’t accompany, and the Force surged with the echo of their prayers as they worked in calm, professional tandem. Obi-Wan found that his heart had room to swell in pride, listening to their manda as they passed checkpoint after checkpoint.

Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end, and he regretfully withdrew from the jatne manda his troopers unintentionally enveloped him in. He inhaled, steeling himself for the upcoming meeting.

“Olarom at Manda’yaim.” Echoed through the Bridge from Mandalore’s flight control.

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement, clapping a hand to Anakin’s shoulder with a smile at the press of well-wishing from his old padawan. He met his commander’s eye, watching the man draw himself up in anticipation.

“You have the bridge, Commander,” He ordered, knowing that the Negotiator and everyone on it was in the safest hands they could possible be.

“K'oyacyi, General.” Cody assured him. The Force bolstered his commander’s sentiments, and Obi-Wan found himself smiling.

“I will, Commander.”

--

Although their assigned diplomatic partner was… unusual, Obi-Wan had still insisted on peacetime protocol rather than the loose-handed play at reconnaissance and body-guarding the 212th had become accustomed to during their general’s usual diplomacy. It had brought sour looks to even the High Council when they had convened at his request, but if Obi-Wan was going to throw all of his faith into the Force’s will, then he was going to follow its pull to the letter.

And with that notion in hand, he arrived with only a complimentary guard and his lightsaber as bodily protection, armor shed and cloak donned. It almost made him nostalgic for the first time he and his master had arrived, guileless but with heightened awareness.

The trip to Sundari was mostly quiet, and it felt good to practice his Mando’a with those who had grown up through the same Mandalorian turmoil as he had, a common ground by which to foster good relations with the guards accompanying him. The variety of dialects was pleasing, and the stories fulfilling.

It made him miss with distinct fervor his own troopers, the camaraderie so similar it was at once dissociative and yet yaim’la. The guards were attempting to be polite to their Alor’s guest, but curiosity was a trait every sentient shared, and so Obi-Wan whiled away the time between his shuttle’s designated landing spot and the palace by sharing tales of home and the front lines, cultivating rapport in the manner he had learned as a Padawan.

The flutter of hope settled warmly across his shoulders with each smile and laugh, Mando’a settling on his tongue as if it had never left from that year traversing the system with Qui-Gon and Satine.

(Maybe Anakin did have a point about that year here.)

New friends tentatively made, they traversed the corridors to deliver Obi-Wan to a very familiar room. Bo Katan Kryze lounged in front of the closed doors, a moue twisting her features despite the curiosity burning in her eyes.

“Kenobi.” “Lady Kryze.”

She scoffed, but stood aside with a nod of her head that still managed a respectful tilt. He nodded to her, feeling the mantle of the Force’s direction settle in his bones.

It was time to see what Maul wanted.

--

For all his planning and treading the edges of Sidious’ intimidating scope of influence, Maul still couldn’t help the stutter of his breath as Obi-Wan Kenobi walked through the doors of this room exactly as he had hoped.

He had abandoned the idea of the throne room as soon as it had occurred to him and his overeager advisors. They were meant to meet on equal grounds, and this antiquated room with its oblong table, seats of the same height, and walls illustrated by tapestries of famous monarchs past would make its mark.

The impression was certainly gathered by Kenobi, curiosity flitting across his face as he recognized that this was neither throne room nor the one more popular for meetings with advisors. He gestured for the other to sit across from him, taking his own seat.

In lieu of speaking, Kenobi instead pulled the missive out of his pocket, sliding it across the table with a flick of his fingers until it sat in the middle, slouching in his chair.

“Tion gar vercopaan par ... me'jorbe?” The Jedi drawled in askance, “Jorhaa'ir be mirjahaal?”

Maul ticked a brow upwards, catching how loaded the tension was between them. He leaned back himself, matching Kenobi’s posture. “Elek. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc.”

And that irrevocably caught Kenobi’s attention, a considering frown and nudging at his shields the other’s reply. Maul lowered some of them, where the Light was the most enduring, and felt the ripple of stupor from Kenobi at the revelation. The Force bounded between both of them, a thought-quick upending of expectations.

Kenobi broke his gaze, glancing around the room before twirling a finger. He nodded, flicking his wrist in dismissal.

The Jedi leaned forward, “Sidious.”

Maul leaned with him, “Is Palpatine.”

Kenobi made a punched-out sound, not questioning the answer as he tugged at his beard. The Force was an insistent undulation over his senses, now, the familiar press of the Jedi’s signature settled against his own as the other man thought.

It reminded him of the last time he had died, weariness eclipsed by the Light and Kenobi’s own spirit as he was sent off. The sensation coaxed him to close his eyes, mellowed by the reassurance that Kenobi was taking significant part in the future.

He drifted in the Force for a while, buoyed by the Light surrounding and binding him. It was calm, a gentle warmth while he waited for his next directive.

Peaceful.

And interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder, somnolence shaken from him with determination by Kenobi himself.

“Maul. Maul.” The Jedi called to him, looking altogether too relieved for an accidental meditation. “I was about to call for your guards. Are you alright?”

He gusted out a sigh, ascribing the trembling in his hand as he grabbed Kenobi’s to weariness. While the Force still sung to him, a clarion call of peace that rung in his ears, Kenobi’s presence pressed more forcefully upon him, a rousing direction to bring his senses to bear.

“I’m fine, Kenobi.” He muttered, sitting up and ignoring the way the other helped him do so. The nudge the Force made to speak the truth, however, wasn’t so ignored, “It is no easy thing to change alliances in the Force, Jedi. Not for a Sith.”

The searching, concerned look he bore as gracefully as he could, pulling the paper on the table toward them both. Maul read the words he wrote once more, turning to hand it to Kenobi.

“I can bend Mandalore to my will, Kenobi.” He said, firmly twisting his words together with his memories of the Jedi Purge, “But it will be more difficult to bend your army to yours. We have a common enemy, and I will help you with this.”

“Because they will not listen to me?” Kenobi questioned, frowning.

“Because their will is not their own,” Maul corrected, withdrawing the control chip from a pocket, holding it up and watching the pieces come together on the other’s face, “This is in every clone’s brain. It is Sidious’ doing.”

The lash of Dark intention was unnerving, not only from its originator, but also how aberrantly different it was from the Light he had grown accustomed to. It sat bitterly on his mind, but heartened him at the resolve this Jedi tempered himself into before his own eyes, how similar it was to their last meeting on Tatooine.

It was that blend, that knife-edge Kenobi strode, that spoke hope to his senses. And it made him smile, bouncing that emotion back at the Jedi before him, something real and earnest that drew a sigh and tentative smile from Kenobi.

“You removed one.” Kenobi stated, a cunning light in his eyes. “How do we remove the rest?”

Maul grinned, “Very carefully.”

--

Mando'a Translations

Usen'ye, vod - Piss off, mate

Oya - Many meanings: literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.

K'olar, Kenobi. Jorhaa be mirjahaal. - Come, Kenobi. Speak of peace. -- mirjahal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Kyr'tsad - Death Watch (lit. Death Society) - breakaway Mandalorian sect

Alor - leader, chief, *officer*, constable, boss

Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc - Better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones that you can't. (Mandalorian proverb.)

manda - the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like

jatne manda - good mood - a complex sense of being at one with your clan and life

Olarom at Manda’yaim - Welcome to Mandalore

K'oyacyi - 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*

yaim'la - comfortable, familiar, sense of *at home*. Can also mean local to the speaker.

Tion gar vercopaan par... me'jorbe? - You wish for... what reason?

Jorhaa’ir be mirjahaal? - To speak for peace (of mind)? -- mirjahal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Elek - yes

[brindaneer]

Inspiration and positivity are what the entire human race is in dire need of during these uncertain times. The present blog acquires additional importance for us because the film it deals with is possibly one of the most motivational motion pictures produced by the Hindi movie industry in the past few years. Penned by the inimitable Javed Akhtar, and directed by Farhan Akhtar, Lakshya showcased the progression of Karan Shergil from an aimless, albeit good-hearted soul drifting through life into a dutiful officer of the Indian Army. Karan's path of self-discovery was not merely an entertaining watch; it was also about the vital role that initiative and determination could play in our lives. Thrown in the midst of a world pandemic after a hundred years, most of us have lost these amazing qualities up to some degree at least, which is probably why pondering over this film in particular seems to be a productive job at the moment. Ironically, a film that several people have drawn inspiration from over the years (people had actually joined the Army after watching Lakshya) had been declared a 'box-office flop' during the time of its release. In that aspect, Lakshya resembles classics like Kaagaz ke Phool, Mera Naam Joker, Pakeezah, Jane Bhi Do Yaaron, and Andaaz Apna Apna, all of which failed to take the box-office by storm, but went on to obtain cult status among viewers later. Astounding? Definitely. Great films sometimes fail financially without rime or reason and unfortunately, the same fate befell Lakshya.

At its core, Lakshya was Karan's story and not a war film. The war and Indian Army provided a perfect setting for Karan to find his true calling. Nevertheless, intricacies of the Kargil war along with the destruction, desolation and pain that accompanied it, and which are also inevitably associated with all international armed conflicts in general, were far from being neglected in the story. A great writer is able to strike a balance between various dimensions of a plot without compromising on his actual intention, and who better than the legendary Javed Akhtar to achieve that? He was complimented by his talented son, the captain of this ship, who ably steered the film into a direction his father had envisaged while writing the script. Karan's metamorphosis from a lazy, casual college-going boy, perpetually confused about what he really wanted to do with life into a mature and responsible man was laced with humour and drama in equal measure, a strategy Farhan had previously employed while depicting Akash's journey in the epic 'Dil Chahta Hai'. Yet, the real genius lay in how different these two journeys actually were. Nobody could accuse Farhan of repeating what he had already done in his debut directorial venture.

Moments such as Karan listing his engagements of the day to Romi's (Preity Zinta) father upon being asked about his future plans in life and then literally hijacking that man's opinion on the importance of giving the best, no matter what the job was, to pacify his own father were examples of the witty humour we were talking about earlier. Of course, the actors took these scenes to a different level altogether. Hrithik’s delivery of ‘Main ye sochta hoon Dad’ after Karan had just rattled the ‘achcha ghaas kaatnewala’ lecture, and Boman Irani’s (Karan’s strict father) poker faced ‘Thik sochte ho’ in return have never failed to elicit roars of laughter from viewers till date. This wit pervaded most of the film’s first half as Karan continued his antics- the expression of his eternal confusion through the iconic ‘Main Aisa Kyun Hoon’ (apart from displaying Hrithik’s insane dancing skills through the choreography of the one and only Prabhu Deva, this sequence also aptly conveyed Karan’s inherent dilemmas), his decision of joining the Army only because another friend had promised he would come too, his disappointment upon being dumped by that friend, his ‘unconventional’ marriage proposal to Romi and his characteristic callousness as well as indolence even during his stint at the IMA were hilarious to say the least. Hrithik’s comic timing was pitch perfect in every scene, and perfectly suited for the nuanced, elegant genre of comedy that the script had aimed at.

Just when we thought Lakshya was a hoot, Farhan introduced the dramatic element in it; and he did so with such subtlety and ease that the ensuing sequence of events seemed to be the only natural course for the film to take. The scene where Karan fell into the pool by sheer unmindfulness during one of his drills and got punished by his commanding officer was somehow able to generate a strange mixture of sympathy as well as laughter amongst the audience and proved to be one of the watershed moments in Karan’s story. Hrithik’s masterful portrayal of humiliation as Karan knelt in front of his fellow cadets engendered such palpable discomfort within us the first time that re-watching it remains difficult even now.

The Karan that emerged on the other side of this event was somewhat different. Staying true to his fickle-minded nature, he jumped the wall of IMA and fled home. Nevertheless, regret could clearly be observed on his countenance as he sat with his parents, head bowed in shame, forced to accept defeat in front of his father- a man, who had always underestimated him. The grievance in his eyes upon over-hearing Mr. Shergill's unfavourable opinion of him hinted not only towards Karan's underlying strong ego, but also revealed his latent desire to prove himself. The hurt ego, along with his heart, was eventually completely shattered when the one person who had genuinely believed in him refused to be a part of his life anymore. Romi, played by Preity Zinta with her usual vivacity and boldness, broke up with Karan at the same place where she had once agreed to marry him because he had failed to live up to even her expectations. For Karan, someone who had probably harboured feelings of inferiority ever since childhood because of incessant comparisons with his brother, this became the ultimate betrayal. As viewers, it was our interpretation that he never really understood Romi’s point of view; he only attributed one primary meaning to her actions- her belief in his worthlessness. Looking at this entire sequence from a neutral perspective, one might say that both Karan and Romi deserved some empathy from each other. Karan’s lack of conviction in everything he did naturally upset Romi to a point where she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Can we really blame her? As far as Karan was concerned, he had to bear rejection from someone, who, he had hoped, would never judge him like his dad. Before this, he had been able to bear the brunt of his father's expectations because of the security that his relationship with Romi provided him. However, when she pushed him away, he truly hit bare ground, with no one to break the fall. The scene that followed the break-up will possibly remain one of the best pieces of emotional acting in Hrithik’s career forever. As easy as it might seem, crying your heart out on screen can actually be very difficult in practice. Hrithik obviously nailed the sobs, but more importantly, he conveyed his character’s rancour towards Romi most effectively through the unspoken hurt in his eyes, thereby suitably justifying the transition Karan would undergo next.

With no comfort zone left for him to turn to, Karan did what his parents, especially his father, and Romi had always wanted him to do. He grew up. He could have sulked like a petulant child and continued to live a directionless life like he had done previously. Instead, he chose to prove himself to Romi and made that his life’s goal. Ironically, Romi had disapproved when he insisted on joining the army earlier because she felt he was doing it to rebel against his father. But this was a different Karan. He was not rebelling anymore. He was trying to show Romi that he could be much more than what everyone thought about him. Sub-consciously, it was not just she who was the reason for this transformation; rather, it was both his dad and her.

Karan’s second stint at the IMA provided viewers with some of the finest moments in the film. His dedication towards learning and training, initial isolation and finally, amalgamation into the student community were fascinatingly depicted through the brilliant title song ‘Haan yahi rasta hai tera, tune ab jana hai, Haan yahi sapna hai tera, tune pehchana hai, tujhe ab ye dikhana hai......Roke tujhko aandhiyaan, ya zameen aur aasmaan, payega jo lakshya hai tera....Lakshya ko har haal mein paana hai’. Now, let us take a brief moment to acknowledge the terrific music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy which truly set the mood for the film. This song in particular struck a chord with us because of the simplicity and eloquence with which it expressed the inherent message of the story. The picturization was top-notch with several nuances throughout. Few moments stand out even now such as Karan passionately screaming ‘Dhawa’ during his drill, something he had been completely casual about earlier, Hrithik’s unflinching eye-contact with the CO who had previously punished him indicating that Karan was a changed man now, and Karan’s increasing camaraderie with his batch mates.

The song was followed by two important sequences, superb for the understated nature in which they expressed first Karan’s unspoken resentment towards his father, and then, his blatant grievance against Romi. In the first, Karan’s mother informed him that his dad had wanted to attend his graduation ceremony but could not ultimately, and in the second, Karan himself called Romi to inform her that he was finally a lieutenant of the Indian Army. At this point of time, talking about Hrithik’s acting probably seems redundant. So, we apologize for the redundancy (What? Did you think we would stop talking about it? 😱😱). Karan’s casual brushing away of his mother’s statement about Mr. Shergill conveyed volumes about how he had ceased to expect anything from his father; it also revealed the disappointment he felt, courtesy of Hrithik’s amazingly layered performance. Similarly, his delivery of ‘Saare faisle tum nahin kar sakti Romi’ was spot-on. It was optimally hurtful, just like it was supposed to be.

As his job brought Karan to Kargil, Ladakh, and he met his commanding officer, Colonel Damle, played to usual perfection by the enigmatic Mr. Bachchan who managed to captivate the audience completely during the few brief moments he had in the film, as well as other colleagues, the lines between proving himself to the two important people of his life and finding his true ‘Lakshya’ began to blur. By his own confession, he had never thought about the significance of being an ‘Indian’ until his senior colleague Jalal Akbar (a brilliantly natural Sushant Singh) took him to the border (pretty prophetic that Hrithik himself went on to play a different Jalal Akbar later in his career, right?). In all honesty, a considerable section of the audience probably felt the same too. The stunning Trans-Himalayan locales shot so artistically definitely added to this feeling, although any border area is usually capable of engendering such thoughts. The landscape of Ladakh has a strange haunting quality about it, and that played a substantial role not only in making the film a visual treat but also metaphorically with respect to Karan’s journey.

As he truly began to love his job, Karan realized that he was finally ready to let go of his ego as far as Romi was concerned. Unfortunately, Romi, after a lot of thought, and pining for Karan, had decided to move on with life, much to Karan’s shock and dismay. The scene where he stood outside the venue of her engagement and watched her laughing with her fiance was one of a kind for the lack of melodrama that usually accompanies such sequences. Its speciality lay in the director’s nuanced handling of emotions and the actor’s terrific portrayal of subtle poignancy.

Run down and broken by the trials of his life, Karan returned home to his parents, only to receive news that his leave had been cancelled, and that he was urgently required to return to base. The moment where he bid goodbye to his parents was the first time when his father openly expressed love and concern for him, although not exactly in those words. The visible tension on Mr. Shergil’s face as he lost his cool and asked Karan to tell the complete truth was a testimony to his worry for his son who was about to go to a border area amidst serious disturbances. The part where Karan hugged his mother and left with just an uncomfortable glance towards his dad was another of those amazing subtle moments which characterized Farhan’s direction for this film. Hrithik’s discomfort and Boman Irani’s disappointment were both heart-rending to watch and as a viewer, one really wanted to reach out and give both of them hugs. A special thanks to Farhan and whoever was in charge of casting for signing Boman Irani in this role. Hrithik and his scenes were like mini acting classes that aspiring actors could take tips from.

Sometimes, it is difficult to get on with life, more so after losing one’s love forever like Karan had, but military training had instilled a sense of duty and discipline in him that was impossible to ignore. Of course, he had already begun to find a deeper meaning in his life through his job, especially after spending time with his superiors and colleagues. And, so he marched on. Had Romi seen his sense of responsibility even during a time when his personal life was in turmoil, she would have been proud. However, the realization that this was his true calling was probably yet to come to Karan. It did, in phases as he learnt about the war situation from Colonel Damle, and then embarked upon it.

If two people are destined to meet, even the universe conspires to bring them together. The same thing happened with Karan and Romi as they crossed paths unexpectedly in Kargil, of all places. The scene where they saw each other amidst a convoy of army vehicles is absolute poetry. Kudos to Preity for being so natural with her expressions always; she was brilliant in every scene, and especially here as Romi’s eyes changed from pure surprise on finding Karan there to a subtle melancholy and probably hope ( ?) at the thought of their future interactions. Hrithik, as usual, was spot-on with Karan’s ‘seeing a ghost’ expression as he moved past her, without getting an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity regarding her presence there.

Their next exchanges were laced with intense angst, but not of the typical Bollywood kind, rather much more controlled and nuanced. The part where Karan, after knowing about the demise of his good friend Abir (from the IMA) found his other pal Saket (Abir’s closest friend) venting out at Romi requires special mention because of the seamless manner in which it shifted from a discourse on the necessity and morality of war to a fantastic interaction between the lead couple, their first face-to-face conversation since the break up. It was formal, yet intimate; mundane, yet special; filled with hope for more on Romi’s part, and discomfort as well as suppressed anger on Karan’s. This scene was followed by his a little mean ‘pata nahin’ when Romi asked him if he had decided whether they should meet or not, and his angsty ‘congratulations’ for her engagement. Of course, the poor guy had no idea that she had broken it off after finding out that her fiance who was apparently a highly motivated successful individual was also a narrow-minded chauvinist. The irony of life! Once again, kudos to the genius of Farhan Akhtar. Without even mentioning it, he managed to point out the difference between Karan and Rajeev, and it was clearer than ever why Romi loved Karan. Remember ‘Maine aj tak tum mein koi choti baat nahin dekhi’ ? However, Romi obviously did not explain the truth to Karan. It was truly frustrating at times to see these two souls so much in love with each other, and yet unable to let go of their stubornness. Nonetheless, the frustration could be borne because of the brilliant intensity of their scenes and the wonderful chemistry these two shared. Truly, we do not talk enough about Hrithik and Preity’s amazing on screen bonding. We really should!

Karan eventually found out about Romi’s broken engagement from a letter his best friemd Ashu had sent him a while back. Hrithik’s expression of shock portrayed the extent to which the news had unsettled Karan. Incidentally, just when love had given him a second chance, Karan encountered death more closely than ever. After an initial victory during the first battle (the one in which he had saved the life of a senior officer, and killed opponents for the first time; also possibly the one where he began to realize that serving his country had started becoming his passion), Karan and his battalion were massively defeated in the second and several lives were lost, including his close colleague, Captain Akbar’s. The scene where Akbar succumbed to his injuries in front of his best friend, Dr. Sudhir (played by the late Abir Goswami, may he rest in peace too) who tried desperately to resuscitate him while motivating the gasping man with remarks such as ‘aam khane jana hai na’ can make people cry anytime without manipulating their emotions or forcefully tugging at their heartstrings. In fact, this was true for every battle sequence in Lakshya, which made it one of the best war movies Bollywood had ever made. Notably, the script treated every character with sufficient respect including even the ones who had screen times of just a few minutes. Everyone had a well-crafted story arc, however small it might be but integral to the movie. Most importantly, not for one second did we feel that Karan had taken up the screen space of others.

The best example for this was provided by the great late Om Puri ji, who played the role of Subedar Pritam Singh. Of course, if you have the privilege of casting an actor of his calibre, your can rest assured of the outcome. Acting is at its best when it does not feel like enactment, and not many actors are more natural than Om Puri ji! Appearing on screen for not more than four to five scenes, he delivered some of the most profound dialogues in the film. He explained to Karan how a soldier knew better than anyone about the destructiveness of war; yet he had no other option but to be a part of it. When Karan asked why wars took place, he pointed out that human greed had drawn boundaries upon the earth’s surface and if it were in their hands, men would partition the moon too. How true it rings, especially now. People are actually talking about ‘making life interplanetary’. If it ever happens, countries are going to fight about demarcating territories there.

Moving on! Excuse the length of this blog please! A film like Lakshya has so many subtle intricacies that it becomes impossible to leave out scenes. But don’t be impatient please. We have almost reached the end of our ‘Lakshya’. A few sequences still deserve mention. First, the iconic ‘Tum kehti thi na Romi meri zindagi mein koi lakshya nahin hai?’ The defeat accompanied by the loss of close friends and colleagues had augmented Karan’s determination to win but our hero had also finally discovered his passion, his true calling. In moments when such epiphanies occur, is there anything else left to do other than crying? Probably not. That was exactly what Karan did. As usual, Hrithik’s performance elevated the quality of this scene, like so many others. The part where Karan pledged to Colonel Damle that either he would execute the mission successfully, or he would not come back alive was again equally impactful because of both Hrithik and Mr. Bachchan. The way Colonel Damle looked at his officer after this momentous declaration conveyed the immense pride, gratitude and grief he felt at that moment. Truly, Mr. Bachchan needs no dialogues to express emotions. His eyes do it all. And the same is true for Hrithik too.

Now, its time for our favourite scene in the movie. You guys must be thinking that we agree on everything. Well, we do agree a lot, but disagreements occur too. However, there was no disagreement on this one. We think its a lot of other people’s favourite too. You are right! We are talking about the scene in which Karan called his dad. This was on the night before the final mission- a mission that was near suicidal. Upon seeing his colleague Vishal take off his engagement ring and put it in an envelope, Karan finally acknowledged what he was running away from; something that he had buried deep down in his sub-conscious- his conflicted emotions towards his father. The knowledge that he might no longer be alive for a resolution made Karan pick up the phone and dial his number. Here is an anecdote in this context. When Boman Irani started shooting for his part in this sequence, Hrithik’s lines were being read by an AD, and Mr. Irani could not get his shot right because he was not able to get the proper feel. Acting is a lot about reacting, and the non-impactful delivery by the AD hampered Mr. Irani’s shot. Finally, the person in charge of the sound came to his rescue and Hrithik’s dialogues were played in audio (Hrithik’s part had already been shot by then) to which Boman Irani reacted. And what an outcome. This is the true mark of a great actor; he not only excels himself but helps others soar too. And what an honour to have helped an ace actor like Boman Irani! The performances by both in this scene were superlative and manage to leave us with lumps in our throats even today.

In his first ever heart-to-heart with his dad, Karan confessed that he had always disappointed his father and told him that he was aware of it. In return, his dad who initially had thought Karan had called his mom, finally told him how proud he was of him. A salute and heartfelt gratitude to all the parents out there who send their children to serve in the security forces so that civilians can live in peace. The smile on his son’s face was proof that he could die happy. The tears in both their eyes expressed the craving they had towards each other; the dejection that Karan had always felt upon being ‘ignored’ by his father was replaced by the understanding that his father had always loved him; the pain on Mr. Shergill’s face portrayed his disappointment for waiting so long to convey his love to Karan- so long that there was a chance he might never see him again.

Having poured his heart out to his dad, Karan finally set out to achieve his Lakshya of recapturing Point 5179 and hoisting the Indian flag on it, but not before a much needed conversation with Romi. What an amazing bond these two shared. Karan did not need to tell her explicitly that he knew about her broken engagement; she did not have to tell him that she still loved him. They just knew. Her ‘to phir main zindagi bhar intezaar karungi’ was far more intense than a conventional ‘I love you’. The beauty of this scene lay in the complete lack of melodrama which one usually associates with Bollywood scenes of this kind. No over the top background score, no hysterics, not even a hug! And the fact that they wanted to hug, but could not (because Karan’s seniors were waiting) made this moment even more poignant. Hrithik and Preity were the epitomes of subtlety here. The frustration of not even being able to touch each other before Karan left for a life threatening assignment was so tangible that even the audience imbibed it. Seriously, why did not Hrithik and Preity work more? They were so attuned to even each other’s silences!

The final mission proved the truth of Romi’s words. ‘Jis din usne decide kar liya ki use kya karna hai, aap dekhna wo kahan se kahan pohochta hai’. Indeed, Karan reached the peak of success, literally and metaphorically. The mountain-climbing scene deserves a special mention here. It was so perfectly done that the only comparison that comes to mind is the famous rock-climbing sequence in ‘The Guns of Navarone’ by the iconic Gregory Peck. And in all fairness, Captain Mallory only climbed a cliff; Captain Shergill had to climb a peak of the Trans Himalayas! Jokes aside, both scenes shall forever remain goosebump- inducing. Karan, obviously hoisted the Indian flag, and just in time. Boy, did he make Colonel Damle proud or what?!

Thanks to our friend Mita for this wonderful VM .

There is a saying that everything works out in the end, and if it does not, it is not the end. It indeed did happen that way for Karan. He found his goal, and achieved it too. As he walked out of that elevator, and hugged his dad finally, we surely did feel contented. And who said Mr. Shergill did not know his son? Well, he might have taken time, but now he understood him better than most. When Karan’s mother asked if they could go home, he objected. Go home? What NO! Karan had to go and fulfill his other 'Lakhshya’, right?

How wonderfully thoughtful of Romi to stand at a distance from Karan’s parents, wanting to give them the private space that they needed! Actually, kudos to the director for his sensitivity; such subtlety is not something that we frequently see in Bollywood. So thank God for ‘Lakshya’. Just like Karan’s story ended on a positive note as the camera focussed on him and Romi, holding hands, finally embracing each other, ready to step in to a new chapter of their lives, we also end this blog with a bit of optimism.. Let us all hope and pray that ‘Hum Jeetenge Ye Baazi’ (modifying Javed Akhtar’s line a bit) on behalf of every Indian, and every person in the world dealing with this pandemic.

P.S. This blog is dedicated to all the front-line workers (doctors, nurses, other medical personnel, medical suppliers, delivery executives, grocery storekeepers, and all other emergency personnel) who put their lives in danger everyday so that we may survive. Please know that you are always in our prayers. Also, let us all hope that no one remains shy of masks and vaccines anymore. Those are the most effective ways of countering this virus. Stay safe everyone!

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire (Trevante Rhodes x Reader)

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader.

Warning: Suicide mention, Dark Themes, Depression Themes, Angst

A/N: Hey y’all, so I don’t know if y’all remember Trevante’s character in that dumbass Predator movie but he play Ex-Commanding officer Gaylord ‘Nebraska’ Williams. If you haven’t seen the movie I won’t spoil it for you but I took that character and his back story and kind of twisted it for the purpose of this story (ps there are no aliens or anything here, the events of the movie never happened, i just used his character and backstory). THIS IS SLOW BURN!!! I plan for it to have a couple more chapters, at least 3 more and maybe a little epilogue. Not gonna drag it out like my Untitled Series (lol remember that fossil 🤣🤣) but it’s gonna have some build up. Really sad themes in here so please be cautious. Also let me know what you guys think and if y’all would like to see more of it ! Anyway i hope y’all enjoy it🥰🥰🥰

Well today was the day. You were getting a roommate. A real roommate. But not by choice.

Your Uncle and last close relative you had left, was an army general, and his Lieutenant, his number two, the young man he’d always seen as something akin to a son... put a bullet in his brain.

It tore your Uncle apart. Your Aunt was barren and the two never looked into alternative methods to have a child.

By protocol, the Lieutenant was supposed to be dishonorably discharged from service but your uncle had managed to pull a few strings and get the boy a temporary leave of absence. And that’s where you came in.

Mental health was something you’d struggled with your whole life. Finally, on the verge of a mental breakdown, you left the city, opting to move into a cozy small cabin on the edge of a little New England town. You had a job at the local museum by day and that helped cover most of your bills, your Incle quietly taking care of the rest. You were happy here. And healthy. It finally put you in a place to heal without the expectations and constant showboating of modern society. You’d found your peace at last.

And your Uncle knew it. And he hoped it would do the same for his favorite soldier as well.

You’d been nervous at first, having never had an actual roommate before, let alone a suicidal, male ex-soldier with PTSD that could probably snap your neck like a twig given the slightest inclination. All concerns you’d brought to your Uncle who’d assured you “The kid wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless that fly was himself.”

So you’d trusted that. He was set to arrive today. You’d spent the entire weekend making sure your home was spotless and that his room would have everything a guest would possibly need. You knew how hard it was to bounce back from a dark place and environment was one of the greatest impacts.

At 13:00 sharp, your Uncle was pulling into your driveway, as punctual as ever. He exited the vehicle first, pulling you into a hug. You could see he’d aged considerably since the last time you saw him, his hair beginning to show small sprouts of grey on the sides.

“Uncle Raynard, long time now see,” you smiled. He and your Aunt lived nearly two states over so it was rare you’d go to visit, especially by yourself.

“Y/N, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” he chuckled, laughing as you rolled your eyes. You’d been the same short height since you were in middle school.

“Did you have a safe drive over?” You asked, watching as the other car door opened.

“Eh, we got a little rain once we hit the highwa-“ your uncles words began to fade into the background as you watched one of the finest men you’d ever laid eyes upon step out of the passengers side of the your uncles Cadillac.

Smooth, dark skin, full lips, incredible physic, thriving beard, and he was tall to top it all off. Your confusion was off the charts. This man looked like th poster child for Black Male self care and self love. For him to look like that and not want to live, you knew whatever was eating at him sure as hell couldn’t be skin deep.

“Ah, took you long enough. Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to Lieutenant Gaylord Williams, Williams this is my pride and joy, my niece Y/N.” The lieutenant dropped the suitcase he was holding in one hand and held it out to you, his other hand carrying an enormous duffle as if it was as light as a grocery bag.

“Most people just call me Nebraska,” he said shaking your hand. His voice matched his build and features perfectly: deep, sensual and sincere like his words were going straight through you.

“Ne-bras-ka,” you said in a bit of a daze as you shook his hand slowly. You could see the veins trailing up his arm.

“Thanks for uh... for having me,” he said with downcast eyes. You could see he was obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Of course, any thing for Uncle RayRay,” you said flashing a smile at your Uncle.

“Well I’d love to stay longer but the roads are supposed to ice over from that rain later tonight and I’m trying to get home before then. Anything you need before I take off?” Your Uncle said giving you one last hug.

“I’m think I’m good. Be careful on the roads. Gotta get back to Aunti Mae in one piece.”

“Course, nothing less.” He turned to Nebraska, “Anything you need before I go, Lieutenant Williams?”

“No sir,” he said raising his arm to salute your Uncle but Raynard pulled him into a hug instead.

“It’s gonna be alright, son. You’re gonna get through this.” He said to him, holding him tight. He tensed for a moment before hugging your uncle back. You smiled at the scene before you, seeing Black men openly support each other in cases such as these was a rarity. Mental health was a touchy subject to begin with and most opted to ignore it rather than combat it.

“You two be good and I’ll call when I make it back home,” and with that your Uncle drove off, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly. You just realize how bitterly cold it was outside.

“Well you must be freezing, let’s get you inside,” you said holding the door open for him.

“Need any help with your bags?” He glanced over at you, purposely looking down as if to reference your short statue before continuing inside. Apparently he wasn’t much of a talker.

“So you’re room is going to be upstairs if you’ll follow me,” you led him to the room across the hall from your own. You’d been using it the last couple of months as sort of a green house where you grew all of your plants because it had an enormous window allowing for plenty of sunlight to stream through however you’d cleared them out and arranged them throughout the rest of your home so they’d still thrive outside of the room, only keeping a few in there that were especially sunlight dependent.

“Here we go. Need any help settling in?” He shook his head no looking around the room.

“Alrighty then. Anything I can get you? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Tea? Fresh-squeezed orang-“

“I’m good,” he said in a small voice. It almost sounded unnatural coming from him because his voice had such a deep timbre to it.

“Okay well I’ll let you settle in and come back to check on you later.” And with that you tiptoed out of the doorway

God he was so.... mysterious? Was that even a good word to use? It wasn’t really much of a mystery what he did, you knew and he knew you knew too, maybe that’s why it’s so awkward? Maybe he was just reserved? Shy? No, he’s in the army, they don’t get the luxury of being shy. Quiet? No they don’t get to be quiet either. Serious? Yes that’s it, he’s just a serious man and that’s what’s making everything so tense. Well that and the fact he put a bullet through his- okay no, nope we’re not gonna keep dwelling on that. He’s here now and he’s alive and that’s what matters. He’d probably rather forget that whole incident by now so you should go ahead and try to put it out of your mind as well.

Your mind was racing and you hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going but had somehow ended up in the kitchen. You figured now was as great a time as any to start on a late lunch. But what should you cook for him? You couldn’t just make lunch for yourself, that’d be rude, especially on his first day. Maybe something Italian, everyone liked Pasta right? What if he didn’t eat meat? Or cheese? What if he was vegan? You knew some militants kept very strict diets and you’d hate to put him in such a compromising position. So you quickly decided to get to work and began cooking at once.

~*~

About an hour later you were almost done cooking when you realized you hadn’t heard a peep from Nebraska this entire time. The house was made of wood and would creak the second anyone put the slightest amount of weight on it, especially someone his size, yet you’d heard nothing.

You quickly ran upstairs, panic beginning to settle in as your thoughts took a turn for the worst. You swung the door open to see him on the bed fast asleep. He hadn’t changed clothes or even bothered to get under the covers. His bags were untouched in a neat corner of the room and he slept with his feet still firmly planted on the ground as if he had been sitting on the edge of the bed and simply laid back.

You didn’t mean to stare but this was the first time you got to actually appraise him without those intense brown orbs staring back into you. If you thought he was beautiful before at a glance then up close he was down right gorgeous. Even in his relaxed state, his arms rippled with veins, his swollen muscles making him look absolutely sculpted. You took note of his full lips, slightly parted in slumber. He was a silent sleeper, he didn’t snore or actually really move at all. It was almost as if he were.... dead.

The last thought seemed to bring you back to reality more as you remembered why you’d rushed up here in the first place. Now you were faced with the decision of waking him up from his nap or letting him sleep through to the evening.

You decided against the latter and moved towards him about to shake his shoulder when you paused. He was a military man, there was no telling what type of things he’d seen or reflexes he had. You decided to take a few steps back.

“Nebraskaaaa?” You cooed. He didn’t even twitch. You decided to grab one of the pillows off the bed and nudge him gently with that.

“Nebraskaaaa,” you cooed again, a little louder this time. His eyes fluttered open but he didn’t move. He simply stared at you, his eyes red from sleep.

“Heyyyyy....” you trailed off awkwardly, setting the pillow down, “lunch is um... lunch is ready.... if you’re hungry that is... or not.... either way it’s ready...”

“Yes ma’am,” he groaned, his voice thick from slumber. You could have fainted right there.

“Okay so I’ll see you down there then?” You realized how stupid that sounded the moment it left your mouth and mentally cringed. You couldn’t control your word vomit around him and that was presenting itself as a growing problem.

Luckily he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as he stood up, stopping at the doorway extending his arm in a swooping motion.

“Ladies first,” Okay maybe he was trying to kill you. Or maybe you were so accustomed to men having the manners of a bent spoon that you were just overthinking. Either way you had to get a grip on this or risk ruining all your best underwear.

“Thanks,” you said walking past him with your head down. Maybe if you ignore how fine he is, you’ll idle down until you’re used to it. That was going to be your plan. Just wait it out, eventually his looks won’t phase you. Or his voice. Or manners.

You made it downstairs and began to set the table. It took less than a minute because with only two people there wasn’t much to set. Nebraska stood staunchly at the doorway as if he were unsure what to do in this situation.

“You gonna sit down?” Wow that sounded rude. You couldn’t win for losing today, maybe it’d be best if you just didn’t say anything again ever.

He sat down without a word and you began sitting lunch on the table. Once everything was complete you stood proud of your creations.

“So I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions so I made Vegan Lasagna and Greek Salad hold the feta. Of course if you’d like feta I have that too, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. I kn-

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said lowly causing you to falter in your rant.

“Oh... um..... I.... don’t mind. I cook for myself all the time anyway and there’s always extra so there’s really no change. Besides, I want you to feel at home here. And nothings says home like a home cooked meal.” You chuckled lightly. He said nothing. You were beginning to think maybe this stoic nature was his everyday personality and not just shyness.

The two of you ate in silence even though neither of you ate very much. You were to nervous to really eat and mostly picked at the food on your plate. He slowly ate his own portion, neither of you really putting a dent in anything.

When he finally finished, he rose from the table and headed towards the sink.

“Are you finished as well?” He asked reaching for your plate.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you said handing it to him. He eyed the near full plate of food before dumping it in the trash and washing all the dishes. You began putting away the leftovers. When there was nothing left to do, you both kind of stood there in a thick silence.

“Thank you.... for the meal. And your hospitality,” Nebraska nodded towards you, before heading back upstairs towards his room.

You decided to do a bit of reading since you had time to pass this Sunday evening so you curled up on one of the plush chairs in your living room and started reading a new book by one of your favorite authors. It wasn’t newly published of course but it was new to you because you’d never read it.

You weren’t sure if it was the snow trinkling outside the window next to you, the comfortable silence in the house, or the exhaustion from preparing for a new guest but you’d fell asleep within ten minutes of sitting down, your book long forgotten.

When you woke up, it had to be late at night, the window beside you pitch black and covered in snow. You noticed the blanket you kept in a little basket in the corner of the living room was now draped across you. You knew you hadn’t grabbed it before you fell asleep so the only culprit had to be your new mysterious roommate.

You felt your stomach flutter at the sweet gesture. You silently scolded yourself about getting use to this type of thing. As soon as he got himself together and was army ready, he’d be gone and you’d never see him again. There was no use getting attached now if he was just going to leave.

~*~

A/N: So let me know what y’all think! I really did feel like Trevante Character in Predator was the only one actually fleshed out plus he was the only one who wasn’t just telling jokes and screaming. As always I’m tagging my usual Trevante gang, I’m so sorry if I forgot anybody, let me know and I’ll add ya to the list (best way is to let me know on my Trevante taglist post because I always check there first.)

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth h @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles @bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks @blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88 @labelletemps @wawakanda-btch

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

The Wrecker: An Amphibia Prequel Fanfic: Chapter 1: The Crossroads

…

 Darkness.

 Crickets chirped…

 Birds tweeted…

 Leaves crunched under his feet.

(First 59 seconds of “Hey Mando!” – Ludwig Goransson)

 The daylight sun was barely up as the hooded soldier trudged through the forest floor, his footsteps quiet enough not to alert more beasts, but loud enough to make an impact. The muddy path was imprinted by his black laced leather boots, and the leaves of trees were cut down instantly by his sharp sword of steel, which glimmered and shined in the approaching dawn, near blinding in its light.

 He covered his eyes, for a moment, the scars surrounding his face now illuminated. Red, sharp lines that stretched all around his eyes and chin, telling of stories he’d rather not share. His hands were a different story: They were covered in blood.

 And not just blood from the Herons he had had to tackle before, an unfortunate part of his morning routine.

 If he resided at Toad Tower, he’d have a warm bed and a hot meal, and the herons and tomato plants and Nightmare Trees would leave him be.

 But his nights… Would still be restless.

 Closing his eyes for a moment, leaning on a tree he didn’t have to kill, he could still hear the screams of that last heron he had to strike down.

 They were just like the screams from yesterday.

 He sighed, a pain in his chest. 60 years old and still running… Somehow.

 How that business in Swamp Port hadn’t killed him he still couldn’t tell you.

 But the screams… They didn’t leave. They hurt way more than all the wounds he had ever been dealt, and he been dealt a lot over his 30 years of service.

 He was used to tangling with criminals, with ruffians, with mercenaries…

 Freedom fighters though… Were an unwelcome new development.

 Ever since Toad Tower had doubled down on its control of Amphibia, the plebs had been responding badly. Especially those from Marsh Pond, the main supplier of silk to the Toads. Once the relationship had been purely diplomatic and peaceful, but something in their nature had caused a need to fight back.

 As the keepers of the peace, they were sent to stop an impending war.

 He could still feel it.

 They normally took prisoners. Even with the recent more “aggressive” tactics deployed by the soldiers, they normally left enemies of the state to rot in prisons.

 But he had, for the first time, panicked.

 He had for the first time chosen the path oft followed, and he had killed a fellow frog.

 But…

 Was that the first time he had chosen that?

 The blood still didn’t wipe as his leaf crunching began to sound more familiar, and the trees took the shape of a sunny, seemingly serene path. The sounds of orders being given, of soldiers marching and of swords striking echoed down to where he stood, large and imposing, broad shoulders drooping and round, orange face filled with thought.

 Thought of the terrible things he had done.

 Thought of all the things he had killed.

 Thought of what once was…

 He turned around, for a moment, looking back.

 Home was back there. Home, in the farm, where his family once proudly stood. Home, with the lush green ivy and the sunny days and the smell of fly pancakes sizzling on the griddle, and the cool of the lake and the satisfaction of a hard day’s work.

 Home…

 But he didn’t belong there.

 He had rightfully been removed from there…

 To where he truly belonged.

 On the one hand, he wished he could take it back. He wished he could bring back the poor frog he had killed.

 But he knew it was too late. For him… There was no other way.

 No one else wanted him…

 And this was the only thing he was good at.

 Taking a small breath, his eyes still getting used to the bright rays of the sun, he failed once more to wipe the blood off…

 He turned around, black cape swirling, a dark shadow falling over him.

 And with that, he walked towards Toad Tower on the road he could not stray from, knowing he could only get worse… So at least he’d just get it over and done with.

 Who knew?

 Maybe today would be the one where Frog would take mercy on his soul and have the enemy strike him down once and for all.

 Maybe today…

 He would rest.

        “Atten….Hut!”, a commanding and direct, yet not rough voice rose through the air.

 (“National Anthem of Roman Empire” – National Anthems of The World)

 Dozens of swords rose up in salute as a large green toad, with shining golden armor and an honorable velvet cape marched down the pristine halls of Toad Tower.

 Said halls were quite a spectacle to behold: Full of bountiful treasures, like the Dread Pirate Mog’s Chest of the Deep, and the mythical water producing sands of The Red Spotted Desert, full of glorious works of art, lavish portraits and marble statues of captains of the past, full of amethysts and emeralds and sapphires that sparkled even at darkest night.

 Cashmere carpets and curtains of gold filled the floors and walls, and a beautiful ceramic mosaic of the entire Captain blood line enriched the ceiling with a feeling of purpose: This was a legacy to be observed with great care.

 But the soldiers of Toad Tower, all different shapes and sizes of the same kind of crony, were too busy fixing their eyes on the most important man in any room he’s in, but one, now standing on a small humble wooden footstool in the middle of the great hall: The illustrious, the bold, the magnificent, the all powerful and all caring father to his men:

 “Lieutenant Grime, SIR!”, the men called out in salute.

 A sense of pride burning in his chest, and a warm smile spreading across his face, Lieutenant Grime motioned with his palm for the men to relax.

 “Thank you, company. But I am here not to order, but to confirm your well being.”

 Stepping down from the stool, Grime observed the men with the eyes of a concerned leader.

 “Yesterday’s battle was a hard one, indeed. We nearly lost some brave toads, and we even found ourselves going farther than we are used to.”, Grime reminded solemnly.

 A rather courageous, yet prone to violent outbursts soldier answered proudly.

 “We all reported to the medical chambers, Sir! We are in prim and proper condition!”, the soldier, Bog by name, said.

 Grime smiled and shook his head, humorously, illiciting a few hearty chuckles from his men. “Fit as a fiddle, perhaps, but the mind is a slightly more complicated instrument, my dear Bog.”

 Bog piped down, feeling a little sheepish. He did not like being shown for a fool in front of the others. He was a warrior first and foremost, and he liked the aura of power it gave him.

 Grime walked among his men, looking them in the eye to see if he could detect anything.

 “Our mental health is crucial for our survival: A man whose battle is not with his enemy, but with himself, is a man who cannot move forwards. You cannot march on to victory if your feet are chained with doubt and guilt.”, Grime informed, softly and surely.

 The men tried to heed his wise words, and they continued to listen carefully as Grime continued his monologue.

 “I know that some of you think that what we did yesterday was a step too far: A step backwards into the dark times of my grandfather, Captain Mire.”

 Grime took a moment to pause, a fraction of conflict showing upon his normally cheery eyes: The mark of his grandfather’s crimes against frog and toad kind was a weight he still carried.

 But he was not to despair. His men would follow in his lead.

 He turned back, and observed the soldiers with determined inspiration.

 “My men… There are times where we face a crossroads, and times where our actions lose their black and white coating. This war is a complicated one, one where our enemies are our friends.”, Grime said.

 He looked up to the sky, up with hope, as his eyes gleamed with belief. “But we must persevere! We must do what is right, even when skies are grey… And misty…”

 He smiled, as he repeated an oft repeated line, the motto of his species: “We are…”

 “The line…”, a deeper, much more commanding voice sounded down the halls, and everyone, even Lieutenant Grime, kneeled in respect, as the one they all followed and served walked in.

 He was taller than even Grime, his armor was somehow more golden, and his scar ridden face was complimented with a steely look, one that could shake the skies and part the oceans; His hands had turned the tides of war many times, and his eyes told a story of power…

 And of prophecy.

 “Captain Muck, SIR!”, the soldiers saluted, Grime included.

 All the toads continued to kneel, as Captain Muck, leader of the Toad Army, and by that, leader of all of Amphiba, marched down towards Lieutenant Grime and offered his hand.

 Grime humbly took it, standing up, but not too much as to not appear in charge.

 “A most eloquent speech as usual, son.”, Muck complimented, an ancient smile on his face.

 Grime proudly accepted it, nodding. “The honor is all mine, father.”

 He added, in a slightly longing tone, “It has been many moons since we last saw you here at Toad Tower.”

 Muck patted his son’s shoulder blade, agreeing with his progeny. “Yes, son, it has been too long.”

 He then greeted the still kneeling army with the voice of a jubilant general, raising their spirits in an instant. “It has been TOO long since I last had the honor of seeing my loyal subjects, whose successes greet children at night and fill the mugs of lonely toads at the inns!”

 The toads cheered, standing up and applauding their great and powerful leader.

 His golden cape swirling, Muck turned to Grime and inquired of recent events.

 “Tell me, how did yesterday’s skirmish befall? Have the terrorists been disposed of?”

 Grime shook his head, albeit not for the reasons Muck expected. “Not quite, father. And I must add, that I wouldn’t go so far as to label them terrorists, more misguided allies.”

 “Now, I wouldn’t go so far myself, son! Allies or not, the once faithful citizens of Marsh Pond have turned on their protectors.”, Muck replied, taking on an amused tone

 “Turned, true, but not for empty reasons: They seem to think that our efforts to protect them are from a dictatorial standpoint.”, Grime retorted, thoughtfully.

 Muck scratched his chin, seemingly puzzled. “How on Amphibia can one interpret our generosity as malice amazes me to no end. It is as if a son would turn on his father, after years of diligent care.”

 Grime had to agree. “You always know just what to say, father.”

 Muck winked, and continued his assessment. “Now, misguided or not, did they lose?”

 Grime nodded curtly. “I would say. They even…”

 Grime struggled with this. Not one frog had died in almost 3 generations of Toad rule. He knew it was a mistake, and he knew it was a consequence of his good intentions, but it was a shadow on his, no… On their legacy.

 He stammered, a rarity, before delivering the truth. “They had lost one of their own. By accident, mind you. But frog blood spilled on Amphiba yesterday, and we are to blame.”

 “To blame? Son, you have an odd perception of justice.”

 Grime was, for the first time, truly surprised, and he showed it with his widening eyes. “Justice? A frog died!”

 “A terrorist frog, son. And one who would have been a repeat offender. Whisperings of this event have stretched across Amphiba, even to my very doorstep.”, Muck informed.

 “So that was why he had come”, Grime thought, feeling a pang of sadness, but it soon passed.

 Muck reached out his arms in welcome. “Times are changing: Our codes must adapt to such things. If criminals must die to set an example, then we will teach the next generation, as we have done before.”, he said.

 He looked back at Grime, making a point. “As you yourself said, regardless of the grey and misty skies, we MUST do the right thing.”

 Muck then extended his sword and sent the tip to the floor, causing an echoing sound. “We ARE the line!”

 “WE ARE THE LINE!”, the soldiers, even Grime, chanted.

 “Well then…”, Muck began, turning once more to his son. “Who is the hero we must laud? Who is the brave soul who has given Amphibia a chance to sleep at night? Who is my champion?”

 Muck pointed at Grime, causing Grime to feel uneasy. “Was it you, my son?”

 Grime hated it, but he had to disappoint his father, though secretly he was glad he didn’t have to carry the burden of murder. “No, father… But I do know who it was. I led the operation, after all.”

 “Well then? Who was it?”, Muck asked.

 The doors suddenly opened, causing a deafening sound, one which made Muck and Grime stare at the arrival of their most trusted soldier.

 “Look…”, one toad soldier whispered. “It’s The Wrecker…”

 (“The Mandalorian Main Theme” – Ludwig Goransson)

 This sent a hush across the crowd, and as The Wrecker, soul still heavy, but mind made up of his fate, his fate to be nothing but the villain of his own story, walked towards Muck to salute him, stunned whisperings and awed gasps rained down the halls as the soldiers made way for him.

 “The Wrecker…”

 “The greatest Toad soldier not of the bloodline…”

 “I heard he once took on 30 mercenaries with one hand!”

 “I heard he’s never lost the beetle race at the Bizarre Bazaar!”

 “I heard that he eats herons for light snacks!”

 The Wrecker tried to ignore his “accomplishments”, his heart getting harder by the minute.

 He was as much of a monster as the herons outside…

 He wished he could learn to live with it.

 “Ah! The Wrecker!”, Muck greeted with loud approval, walking down towards his trusted muscle.

 His armor jingled as he put a proud hand on The Wrecker’s shoulder, and he inadvertently sent a shiver down the warrior’s spine.

 “Fashionably late as ever, but after 30 years of immense service, can I really ask for more?”, Muck complimented, grinning.

 The Wrecker said nothing, as this was customary of him. He rarely addressed anyone, mostly because the sound of his own voice reminded him of a different time.

 No matter how hard he tried to change it, that small sound of home stayed.

 He couldn’t kill his past.

 Muck didn’t notice any of that, choosing to continue to lavish praise. “I see that you have done what no frog or toad has done in years: You have killed an enemy of your country. I am insurmountably proud!”

 He then motioned towards Grime, who quickly joined. “I feel as if now is finally the time you accept your long overdue reward of becoming a co-Lieutenant!”

 Grime proudly beamed. “I would be MORE than happy to share the post with you, my friend!”

 And it was true: Grime was not only happy, he was his friend. Perhaps his only one.

 But The Wrecker said nothing.

 And Muck understood.

 “Well, I think you’ve earned the right to refuse that. You are a good soldier, with or without medals. But a banquet tonight at toad hall, at the very least?”, Muck offered, a voice full of hopeful anticipation.

 The Wrecker aquiesced. There was no reason to create a fuss. They could celebrate; He would just try to forget he wasn’t lying cold on the wet grass of an abandoned battlefield.

 Muck laughed heartily as he announced the upcoming banquet, which sent the whole hall cheering, and as they finished, Muck announced another important thing.

 “Well, the time for frivolaties is over! We must take action once more!”

 He lifted his sword in command, and everyone followed. “Marsh Pond must be taught its lesson before its disease of the mind spreads! The line must be restored to proper balance! Go out today and teach them this lesson! And if you must, kill the ones endangering our safety!”

 Looking at The Wrecker, Muck smiled, almost evilly now. “What say you, Wrecker?”

 The Wrecker sighed. He would only be going deeper…

 But he had no home to go back to.

 All he had…

 Was the end of the road.

 If he really was to be a villain…

 If there really was no honor for him…

 Then he would finish his job.

 Straightening up and clenching his fists, The Wrecker said:

 “…When do we start?”

 THE WRECKER

 CHAPTER 1: THE CROSSROADS

            (“Isolation” by Brian Taylor – Iron Man 3 plays)

 The carriage shuddered and rattled as it made its way down the long, crooked and winding road towards Marsh Pond. The pebbles on the path kept interfering with the wheels, causing much bumping on the ride.

 While outside the sun shone brightly, and the crickets and butterflies played with the dandelions, inside the carriage was a very different atmosphere.

 These were fighters, warriors, and soldiers, on a mission to defend their homeland. There was no more serious mission.

 In fact, this was the first tax day check the toads had had to make in a long time, and tensions were high after yesterday’s battle.

 The soldiers tried to distract themselves from the past and future events, however, by keeping themselves busy; Idle minds were often potent for traumatic memories.

 So inside their dreary and dark camouflage green and oak tree brown carriage, they wasted time to forget that their time was short lived, and that their days were numbered.

 Some were participating in a spirited spitting contest using Private Berry’s helmet (his mum had given it to him, apparently, which only reinforced their decision to use it). The riccothests echoed across the carriage, disturbing the few who chose to sleep.

 “Quiet down there, ya fuckin’ morons!”, one shouted out, throwing his spear at a fellow toad who just managed to duck, causing the others to laugh jovially.

 Such moments of levity were few and far between, so when they presented themselves the men would jump to the occasion.

 Besides spitting and sleeping, writing letters home was another popular activity.

 One Pugs by name was doing just that, writing home to her parents back in Toad country.

 Her quill was fast and efficient, since any toad soldier worth their weight knew that an outside attack could happen at any minute.

 If you wanted to settle affairs, you had to make it snappy.

 “We’re off now to Marsh Pond. I believe you once mentioned it in one of your bedtime stories, papa. Is it…”

 She stopped, choking for a moment.

 She then resumed, but the parchment was a tad damper than she had intended. “…Is it as wonderful as you said it was? If so… I’m sorry. We may have to burn that place down. I hope I haven’t disappointed you or mama.”

 While this letter was being written, the last activity remaining was being practiced by Lieutenant Grime and The Wrecker in their lonely corner of the carriage, barely illuminated, shadows casting over their armor and faces.

 Grime seemed in a melancholic mood, contributed to by his Father’s seeming ignorance of him (a selfish motivation that illicited shame in Grime) and a general guilt over the death of the so called “Terrorist”.

 Sharpening his dagger with another, Grime seemed fully focused on the task, as if perhaps it could distract his troubled soul.

 And The Wrecker did the same with his sword, albeit less distracted.

 Such was the soul of this warrior, he just…

 He just couldn’t ignore.

 He had killed a frog…

 And he couldn’t even truly state self defense.

 He had panicked, and he had failed. Again.

 Failure.

 If The Wrecker had a single consistent motif in the symphony of his life, it would be titled “Failure”.

 He was nothing but that.

 He had failed his family…

 His town…

 His father…

 His people…

 And even himself.

 He had tried his luck at farming, the arts, merchant work, and even begging, and it got him nowhere.

 Every time he tried something, he fell flat on his face, reminded once more of his uselessness.

 At everything…

 Everything but fighting.

 For some odd reason, he was adept at surviving, at persevering in a fight.

 It was some sort of innate instinct of his.

 The will to survive, despite the fact that he was clearly unwanted, even by himself.

 This will, however, was slowly being eroded away by the waves of guilt that washed over him.

 “I’m no good at anything but destruction. I am nothing more than a blunt tool.”, he lamented as he sharpened his sword.

 He sharpened harder, causing sizzles to fly.

 “Might as well put my back into it. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die at least getting one thing right.”

 Meanwhile, Pugs continued to write her letter, and The Wrecker overheard her pleas of forgiveness to her parents.

 Coupled with the rattle and shake of the carriage and the sharply contrasting blue sky he could see from the lone window, The Wrecker found himself thinking back to a different time…

 When he was a different person…

 “Dear Mum and Dad…”, a 20 year old Wrecker dictated, sticking the quill in his mouth and recoiling from the taste.

 “Yech! Anyhow, I’m on the carriage to college, and I have never been more excited!”

 He wasn’t exaggerating; he had spent the entire trip looking out the window in excitement, gawking at the sights and sounds, amazed at the different kinds of snails and frogs he was seeing, alongside the marvelous skies out there.

 “I’ve only seen such blue skies in my dreams…”, he muttered to himself, tapping his chin in thought on what to write.

 He soon came up with another idea, and wrote it down quickly. “How are things at the farm? I hope the corn is growing better than last time I handled it!”, he added, smiling, but the smile was oddly unnatural on his youthful face.

 He soon found himself staring at the piece of paper, knowing he had to say something deeply hidden inside.

 Looking from side to side, he added with shaking, guilty fingers “I’m so sorry that I brought shame on our name. I…”

 A tear fell on the bench next to him. He wiped it quickly, not wanting anyone else to be affected by it.

 “I… I’m sorry. But I promise: This is the last time I’ve failed! I will bring honor to our family and town, and I will prove that… That keeping this pollywog was the best decision you made!”

 Feeling a sense of pride burst in his chest, he finished with a determined grin. “Looking forward to making you proud! Sincerely…”

 He stuttered, wishing he could justify the title. “…Your son.”

 Sitting back, he took the parchment and stuck it in his ready made envelope, scribbling the address carefully.

 “Seriously? A letter to your parents? What are you, 5?”, the taller turqouize frog next to him, who was busy whistling a merry tune, suddenly interjected.

 Wrecker turned to him in objection, annoyed by the incessant whistling. “Gosh, Mellow, why you gotta be such a wet towel?”

 Mellow responded with a flick to the ear. “Why you gotta be such a baby? Blue skies and weepy family letters? Grasshopper pie much?”

 He sneered and removed a lettuce leaf from his teeth with his fingers, causing Wrecker to cringe. “It’s like, dude! You and I both know what happened back there.”

 Mellow suddenly took on a sadder tone, and he eyed his carriage mate with a sympathetic look. “…Why are you lying to yourself? No one has ever given you a chance. I wonder if even you do.”

 Wrecker took a deep breath and looked out of the carriage, still seeing blue skies. “Well… My first chapter was not bright… But that’s what re-writes are for! This is a new page for me! I… I just know it!”

 “…And I ended up flunking out. I couldn’t even succeed in the one elective I got right.”

 Wrecker sighed, a cold shiver down his spine.

 When was he finally going to accept that there was no other way?

 This was the only thing he was good at…

 Whatever he once was… Whatever he could have been…

 It was gone, lost forever in the winds of the past.

 He wasn’t who he once was.

 He was The Wrecker.

 And that would never change.

 His last sharpening of his sword was particularly loud though, and it caused Grime to observe his comrade with slight concern.

 The two never really talked (well, Wrecker never really talked that is), but Grime had learned over the years they had spent as fellow soldiers when he was in a stormy mood.

 He may have only been 20, but he was wise beyond his years. He could tell when guilt was steering a man’s ship.

 “…I’m worried about today too.”

 Wrecker said nothing. He just tried to focus on his sword.

 “…Father seems… Very pre-occupied of late.”

 Again, Wrecker said nothing, though he was used to Grime expressing his insecurities about his father. Grime had no one else to tell, which made Wrecker even guiltier: What could he do to help him when he was himself?

 “…Sorry, I’m venting again. I just… I hope I’ll make him proud today.”

 Wrecker nodded and silence reigned again.

 But Grime had another thing to address.

 “…I know yesterday was difficult, but you did a good thing in the end. Father wouldn’t have said so if it wasn’t.”

 Wrecker now REALLY wanted to ignore, and his sharpening got louder and harder, sparks literally flying.

 “I mean it. You… You saved us from those Terr… From those frogs! They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you! I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you! You… You are a hero to us all, Wrecker!”

 Gritting his teeth, Wrecker stood up and looked at Grime with a mixture of guilt, pain, hatred and resignation. “You’re wrong.”, he stated, with finality, and he began to step away as the carriage dragged to a halt.

 Grime was surprised by this, and feeling that he had to make Wrecker understand that he was one of the best… No, the BEST of them all!

 Standing up, he grabbed Wrecker by the shoulder pad, turning him to him, startling him for a moment.

 “Wrecker… You made sure no one died!”

 Wrecker pulled himself away, fury and anguish in his dark eyes.

 “…He did.”

 The doors slammed wide open, and shoving all the others aside, The Wrecker stepped out onto the outskirts of Marsh Pond, the all too familiar scent of corn, sunflowers and hay hitting him in the face and sending him back.

 In response, he shoved his sword violently into a dog sized maggot and wiping the blood on his cloak, giving himself an extra imposing look, The Wrecker forebodingly walked towards the peaceful for now farmlands, eyes narrowed, heart clenched.

 The rest of the men followed, tense and prepared for anything. Death was in the air…

 War was coming to Marsh Pond.

         (“The Scavenger” by John Williams – Star Wars: The Force Awakens)

 “Ok, Xena! I’m ready!”

 Standing in a wide field of about 20 rows of green silk plants, ready to be harvested once more thanks to the winterless skies of Amphibia, the ultramarine/perriwinkle webbed feet of 20 year old Annie Lilypad curled up in anticipation, her massive hitting branch at the ready, her eyes showcasing excited confidence.

 Annie was standing on the southernmost side of the field, mere meters away from the farm she had spent all her life in wishing she was anywhere but there.

 Not that her childhood had been some sort of nightmare, mind you, but Annie was the sort of frog with her head in the clouds. For Annie, life was most fun when she got to truly express the mess of interests in her mind out in the open!

 And today was a good day to be herself!

 “Serving up!”, called out Xena, a buff and athletic artichoke green frog, whose short stature didn’t affect her strength one fold. Using her well toned arm, Xena hurled a massive dead fly towards Annie, a fly so big it would have freaked out any ordinary frog.

 But Annie Lilypad was NO ordinary frog.

 Narrowing her eyes and smirking confidently, Annie took a few steps forwards, readied her branch, and with a mighty guttural roar of power, unleashed her whack.

 “BACKHAND!”, She screamed, and the fly was sent hurtling back in tremendous speed, Xena barely ducking as it hit the granite wall with a humongous splat, coating the wall (and XENA) with fly guts and ick.

 Blood was also coating the stone barrier, but it was nothing compared to the other splats of fly body parts spread around the wall. And with the work done, one could see that the seemingly benign and needlessly violent endeavor had a purpose: A crude spelling out of ANNIE WUZ HERE was now being appreciated by Annie, Xena, and the now arriving Shirley, a tall and lanky magenta frog who whistled in approval.

 “Realizing your identity through the mediums of art and murder by stamping yourself onto the shackles that hold us down! Deep, man…”, Shirley nodded, feeling the art by closing her eyes and breathing it in.

 “I see you used carcasses. Tres chic! Gives a very REAL and RAW feeling to the work!”, she complimented, patting Annie’s back, who closed her eyes in pride.

 “Well, what can I say? Some girls paint, some girls fight, I just ROCK!”, Annie boasted, and she flexed her arms as Shirley and Xena applauded.

 “Too bad this is the closest we’ll ever get to self realization.”, Xena commented, shoulders drooping, and the other girls nodded sadly, well aware of their predicament.

 Marsh Pond was Amphibia’s number one silk farm (using both silk worms and artificial manufactured silk to meet the suffocating demand), and its center of the arts and sports. It was a cultural mecca to frogs and toads of all ages, artists to athletes to merchants, and since tourism and trade were the majority of economic influx to the village, ESPECIALLY thanks to the crippling Toad Tower taxation, Marsh Pond was on a constant schedule of 24/7/365 work.

 This meant a few things: It meant that farmers, artists, sportsmen and tour guides had to work their asses off. It meant that a silk harvest that died out or was stolen would potentially send a family into the streets, if not into the grave.

 And it meant that no one could ever leave Marsh Pond.

 Which was great, if you wanted to be a silk farmer, or an artist, or a road travelling merchant, or a beloved boxing champion.

 But it meant the end of the road before it had even begun for some frogs.

 Like Xena, who had always wanted to set her own wrestling show and travel from town to town, entertaining the masses.

 Or Shirley, who wanted to paint more than fields of silk and dusty old farmers, who wanted to paint the setting of the sun on Mount Rebirth and the starry skies that hovered over the near impossible to find salamander cities that touched the clouds.

 Or Annie… Who wanted nothing more than to see it all.

 But alas, these three frog lasses had nothing more to look forward to, other than decades of farming the same land over and over until they became part of it, nothing else but moving fertilizer, destined to be snail grazing.

 Annie sighed as she sat on the porch of her farm house, her friends standing idly by, knowing there was no hope.

 “If only…”

 It echoed and echoed in their minds, the enveloping emptiness of the concept wringing out any happiness they had left. There was nothing to do, nothing that could be done. And so, they just stood there, feeling empty and lost in a sea of dead possibilities.

 Well, Annie sat, but you get the picture.

 Sighing, Xena and Shirley excused themselves, since the job of a farmhand/daughter was never done, and their breaks were surely over. Annie was still waving goodbye to their already departed shadows when her father opened the door and took a deep breath.

 “Another day, another harvest. Come on, Annie! We have to hurry before the Tax Toads arrive!”, Leap Lilypad ordered, and Annie stood up, but her will was clearly not there to be found. Walking inside, Annie began to slap on her overalls and sunhat while Leap looked out into the distance, clearly anticipating something.

 In fact, the liberty tinted frog seemed almost tense, as if he knew of a great and horrible truth connected to the things out there in the outskirts. Looking back, he saw that Annie was still getting ready inside the Spanish Blue farmhouse with a red tiled roof and brown porch. She was wrestling with her overalls in the entrance room/living room, the wooden brown walls failing to elude a feeling of warmth.

 Leap smiled softly, before frowning at the distance again. Stepping carefully, Leap, hands in his pockets and heart in his chest, walked right into the middle of the silk field. The smell of corn, sunflowers and hay hit him in the face and he closed his eyes, enjoying it.

 This could very well be the last time he could ever stand in his garden and just smell the roses. This could very well be his final day.

 Leap felt the ground with his feet, he felt the wind in his hair, and he heard the longing call of the giant silk worms in the distance. The sun shone brightly in the sky, giving a golden aura to the clouds, as if they were reaching out to him. As if Eliza was still reaching out for him.

 Silently, he removed his hat and placed it near his chest, a single tear shedding. He took another deep breath as he looked at the clouds forming a shape that looked like her webbed hand, reaching out for him. Always reaching out. It took all his strength not to reach back, and give it all up.

 “Don’t be a fool…”, he told himself, and he took on an unsure smile. “You’ll… You might be seeing her again. If this works… You’ll be seeing her all right.”

 But Leap did not want to die. He did not want to perish and leave it all, leave his bountiful crops, his fields of peace, his warm fireplace, his…

 “Dad? Are we getting to work or not?”

 Leap startled himself awake, forgetting his daughter entirely. Turning around, he saw her dressed in the most unnatural way: Dressed like him. Her sunhat was tilted, of course, and her overalls were loose and nearly torn, as was to be expected. Her face was glazed, but determined to please, and her hands were holding a sheer with which they would get the crops.

 Leap knew that the Toads would be here soon, and that harvest would not happen. And he also knew that this wasn’t his daughter. And he also knew that Eliza wouldn’t have approved.

 Leap smiled as he gazed upon her, though. Over the decades Leap had grown many wonderful crops of silk, corn, pumpkins and wheat. He had the prizes, scars and tired bones to prove it.

 But of all his creations, none were as beautiful nor magnificent as his daughter who was not one bit like him. And he wouldn’t have changed her for a minute.

 Soon, he would have nothing. Soon, she wouldn’t have to farm for him or anyone. Soon…

 Soon he would meet Eliza again.

 Leap closed his eyes and took one last deep breath, knowing that what he was about to do would not only help others, but would help his daughter escape. And that was worth the most painful death there was. He had signed up for a reason… And he would make sure it was not in vain.

 Placing a hand on her shoulder, Leap struggled not to weep as he said “You know… I need to deal with the tax visitors first. Why don’t you…”, he began, and he took her hat off and unbuttoned her overalls.

 There were a million things he wanted to do, but he opted for only a kiss on her forehead. “Why don’t you go out to city square? Have the day off?”

 Annie was flabbergasted, and she showed it by jumping up and down excitedly. “What what what what?!?!?! You never let me have days off! Won’t we all, like, die out or something?”

 The wind tickled his ears and Leap chuckled and shook his head. “I am a grown man, dear. I can handle this by myself.”

 Annie wanted to leave more than anything. She HATED working in the fields, she LOATHED farming and she DESPISED the decades she was going to waste doing all that over and over and over again. But Annie was kind hearted despite it all, and more than all the previous things, she HATED leaving her father alone to do all the work.

 “Are… Are you sure?”, she asked, rubbing the back of her neck. “Even if it’s just the taxes, I could help with that! Surely you didn’t burn a whole weekend of my life for nothing!”, she joked, but she really did feel uncomfortable, and her sad eyes showed that.

 Leap, however, insisted, and he held her hand in his. “I promise you: Nothing bad will happen.” He narrowed his eyes, as if he had to make sure she believed it no matter what. “NOTHING.”

 Annie, slowly accepting the idea, nodded her head and kissed him on the forehead. “Ok! But I’ll work extra hard tomorrow! I promise!”

 In all the excitement, she hadn’t noticed her father’s frown at the fictional concept of “Tomorrow”.

 Dropping her things, Annie raced out of the gate filled with fly parts and cheered, hoping to get the latest batch of Beetle Jerky while it was still hot. Her cheers could still be heard by Leap as he walked towards his barn, the old frog staring back to where she had left and sighing.

 Holding his hat to his heart, he closed his eyes in a sort of prayer and stated as if it was fact “Nothing bad WILL happen, Annie. I swear. You’re not going to see your mother yet. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

 Wiping a hanging tear, Leap remained rooted to his spot for 5 minutes, before finally rousing the courage to begin the final chapter of his life, turning around and opening the barn door with a resounding and determined thud. The sound echoed across, startling the silk worms, who woke up and mooed almost like cows. Even the oldest and largest one, Kya, roared with surprise when the sound occurred.

 Rushing to her aid immediately, Leap shushed the large worm with soft pats to the head and affectionate whisperings of love. The worm slowly calmed down and nuzzled its head on his, the mucus not bothering Leap for a moment.

 All the other worms soon quieted down, and for a beautiful instant, all was silent in the barn. Leap tried to enjoy it while he could, knowing that the storm was inevitable.

 “Is she gone?”, a voice called out from the darkness, near the edge of the barn, disrupting the peace and causing some of the worms to call out again.

 Leap sighed, knowing his time was up. “She’s safe. And that’s all that matters.”

 Leap walked towards the noise source, still shrouded in darkness, the odd hum of a strange object reaching his ears and sending his heart racing.

 “What’s the matter, Leap? Have you lost faith in our mission?”, the voice asked, concerned this time. It was genuine; this voice and the voices that hadn’t spoken yet besides him were salt of the earth types, believers in their cause and fighters for freedom. And Leap had been one of the biggest voices for independence for years! If he had lost faith…

 “Have no such fear, brothers. I am just…”, Leap began, before clenching his fist and making his mind up. “I’m just thinking of how happy Eliza will be to see me.”

 Leap stepped in and the light revealed 9 other freedom fighters among the bale and hay, stretching their feet and ready for what could be the final day of their lives, though some of them were a tad more confident in their security.

 Tattered rags, rakes, pitchforks and torches waiting to be lit sat patiently among the group, weapons of the oppressed that hardly stood a chance against the Toad’s superior armory and fighting technique. Outdated books on Toad Strategy wasted everyone’s time on a measly wooden desk that was yellowing with age as much as the papers inside said books, a lonely candle wasting wax as well. Sunken and lost faces of rebels stood transfixed in time, awaiting the next move in the chess game of their lives.

 Leap went up to the head of the rebellion, Mog Gravel, and nodded his head slightly.

 “Have you no such fear, Leap.”, Mog encouraged, and he presented their last hope. “We are outnumbered, outmatched and out of time… But we are not out of hope.”

 He smiled, hoping to incite light in the darkness. “No one ever is.”

 Leap wasn’t so sure, but he knew the weapon had potential. He bit his lip and pointed at it, fear in his eyes. “So… Have you found out what it does?”

 Mog shook his head, but his spirit didn’t waver. “No… But we do know one thing: What we have… Could spell the END of Toad Tower…”

 And as the frogs all stared with a mix of fear and hope, the tension thick in the air, the Calamity box did nothing more but hum, it’s gems lighting up the dark barn with not hope, or fear…

 But destiny…

                 “CORN! FRESH, DELICIOUS CORN! CORN THAT’S HOT, HOTTER THAN YOU, I BET!”, a farmer shouted out, rolling his wheelbarrow full of cobs of corn next to his wooden stand that smelled of quality produce and parsley.

 “20 gold coins for THAT measly carrot? Just the one carrot?!”, a frog housewife with brown bangs and a purple purse complained loudly near a different produce stand with older, decidedly less fresh produce, that smelled of rotting potatoes.

 “Ma’am, ‘ave you SEEN the new taxes? I’ve got a family to feed!”, the stand manager said, a bearded fellow whose stomach informed that he had seen better days.

 “And I can’t feed mine if you charge such prices!”, the housewife retorted, and she slammed the stand with her purse, fire in her eyes.

 “Darius is going to win! His odds are high, and he’s got a mean right hook!”, a large, bald frog with squinting eyes debated with his friend at the kiosk, the steam of his black coffee making his eyes squint even more.

 “Eh, you’re full of shit! Alexander may be smaller, but he comes at you from everywhere at once!”, his thinner, nearly spikey haired friend countered, smoke spewing out of his hookah, the kiosk manager handing him a plate with his pretzel.

 “Swamp City ports close tonight at 6 PM. You want to be out of there as soon as possible, otherwise you’ll be stuck there for the weekend, and that’s when The Hive wakes up.”, an elderly merchant informed his first time delivering son.

 “Got it, dad.”, the son said shakily, wary of what could befall him, but desperate to please.

 Life in Marsh Pond was always hustling and bustling, never a moment to rest, and once, that had been it’s reason for success: The draw of the potential riches to be gained, the art to be adored, and the excitement to be had had caused an influx in population.

 But The Toads had changed that, and there was only so much increased demand that one city could contain. Coupled with the disillusionment the new generation had gained the last few years, and the city found itself on a threshold. The farming industry was slowly depending more and more on artificial crops, which were damaging the soil, the athletes association was struggling due to its one city event limit, and less and less frogs picked up a brush, for there were only so many times you could paint the same background.

 There was no other way around it: Marsh Pond was dying.

 And today it would draw its last breath.

 “Oh, no, my ball!”, a young frog girl named Daphne, who was bubble gum pink, exclaimed and she chased it onto the stone paved road, narrowly dodging the merchant’s son.

 “Daphne, come back here! You can’t run into the road!”, Daphne’s mother shouted out in fright and ran after her.

 Daphne bounced off the angry housewife’s head, knocked over by accident the corn wheelbarrow (“Sorry!”) and leapt from the gamblers table at the kiosk to reach it just in time.

 “Yes! I got it!”, she squealed happily, but when she looked up, she saw…

 CLANG!

 The sound of a sword hitting down on the ground was supplied by the Toad soldier now staring right at her with a nasty growl, and she hushed up immediately, whimpering from the look on his face.

 (“Firelord Ozai Theme” – Jeremy Zuckerman and The Track Team)

 Silence immediately took over the other frogs, who stopped all what they were doing to stare at the incoming chaos. The housewife shivered, the merchant’s son gulped quietly, the men at the kiosk sighed wearily, and Daphne’s mom glared with resigned desperation at the toad soldiers in front of her.

 Only the wind howled, causing the armor and terrifying war helmets to clank, their faces never moving.

 The towered over the frogs, their black as night cloaks blowing in the wind, like the wings of flesh eating vultures ready to prey on them all. The bells in the woodshop stand rang ominously, the tension in the air too thick to be cut.

 No one even dared move, as The Toad soldiers let their dominance be known by freezing an entire town with the act of simply appearing.

 Some of them, like Pugs, were already ashamed of their arrival, but the majority were like Bog, nearly grinning from the opportunity presented before them to burn this place to the ground. Their way of life was under siege, and Marsh Pond would know pain if it meant protecting the state.

 Only Grime seemed not to read the situation, too fixated he was on keeping the peace and being The Line. He knew his father had all but approved the use of brute force, especially in finding the “terrorists” who had stabbed Amphibia in the heart, but Grime just couldn’t bring himself to do it, which depressed him completely. How could he ever live up to his father, to his bloodline, if he couldn’t follow his orders? Of course, it was only a suggested course of action, which Grime was more than ready to stake his honor on if it meant that no more bloodshed would be undertaken. Grime knew he was doing something wrong, but he just couldn’t execute more frogs. There HAD to be another way.

 So he would take it. And so he tried to, as he walked up to the front of his men and cleared his throat, ready to address the citizens as to the manner of their arrival. Perhaps he could ease the storm, and steer the ship in the right direction.

 Perhaps he could still be a good leader.

 “Citizens of Marsh Pond!”, Grime’s voice boomed across the market space, all powerful and all reaching, arguably even stronger than Captain Mire. Everyone who was already looking at him focused even more now, and anyone who hadn’t been now had their eyes trained on him and him alone.

 Two other soldiers quickly positioned themselves in guarding positions, their spears pointed right at Daphne and her Mom, who still couldn’t budge, so scared they were that they were rooted to the spot.

 They quivered and whimpered, tears streaking down Daphne’s cheek, but somehow Grime didn’t notice.

 No one did, it seemed, too focused they were.

 No one did…

 But The Wrecker, who took one look at the child and saw someone he hadn’t seen in years…

 Himself.

 Meanwhile, Grime continued his speech, barging on with his well meaning but ineffectual declaration. “We are NOT here as your enemies. We are here as family, a family that is concerned.”

 Wrecker wanted to find a way to help Daphne and her mom move away, but one of the guards freaked out and threatened them with her spear, making the two frogs run off, scrambling away, bruising their knees on the rocky road.

 Wrecker just stood there silently, feeling his heart hurt just a little bit more as Grime continued, his soul beginning to intensely remind him of the past, of who he was, and of who he has become.

 “You mustn’t be afraid…”, Grime soothed, and suddenly Wrecker was 20 years old, and his father was holding his hand as Captain Mire stared into his eyes with a devilish grin, one which sent a shiver down his spine even now. He was crying then, and having his face touched by the toad leader was only making things worse.

 “We aren’t here to hurt you…”, Grime promised, but Wrecker could see Bog already sheathing his sword, and he could also see Mire “caressing” his face and sticking a knife to his face, nearly drawing blood.

 “We’ll make a fine slave of you yet…”, he whispered in his ear, and Wrecker could still hear his own screams echo into the night.

 “We aren’t here to scare your misguided warriors into submission…”, Grime phrased carefully, and Wrecker could see his neighbors being slaughtered as he narrowly ducked a sword that lashed at his head, his heart pounding, his mucus glands working overtime.

 “And we aren’t here to punish you…”, Grime neared finishing, while Wrecker could almost feel the flickering embers of the fire as his village went up in smoke.

 He could still hear the screams.

 They never left.

 Suddenly, as if past and present had collided, Wrecker felt as if he could actually see his younger self turn around and look at him.

 He blinked, confused, puzzled, startled, and every other synonym you could think of. How was this happening? It wasn’t possible!

 But there he was, looking at who he was, and who he could never be was staring right back.

 But it was not an empty stare; far from it. It was full of anger. Of rage. Of…

 Disappointment.

 “You were supposed to be better. Now, you’re going to burn another village. Only this time it WILL be your fault. And you will create more wreckers.”

 The younger version then shook his head, and sadly asked an armor piercing question: “Did you really hate yourself so much… That you chose to be what you hate most of all?”

 And Wrecker could only stare as Grime concluded his speech, the winds only getting stronger, disrupting a previously sunny day as grey clouds filled the air.

 “We are only here to collect your generous donations to the state. Not your state, not my state, but OUR state. For we are ALL Amphibians!”, Grime stated as fact, but the sight of the tremulous frogs, the image of defenseless children and frail old Frogs quivering at the sight of the heavily armed and massive Toads told a very different story. One Grime was all too happy to ignore in his all encompassing desire to be just.

 Finally ready to continue on their mission, Grime stated one last “Thank you for your co-operation” and promptly turned to Bog and Wrecker, the former bursting for the chance to punish those who sought to hurt his comrades, the latter still seeing his younger self look at him with disappointment.

 The other men all began to flank to two sides, used to this arrangement. Some pointed east, spears and swords once more pointed at the terrified townsfolk, and some pointed west, their backs turned to Grime, Bog, and Wrecker, but their nearly robotic flanking most definitely visible.

 The three most senior soldiers in the ranks glanced at each other, an aura of silence for a moment: Grime, the respectable and honorable leader; Bog, the vengeful and enraged master fighter; and Wrecker, the best fighter and the most reluctant, though his resigned nature could still make him useful. The tax day collections were to happen as normal (collect from those who pay, punish those who don’t), with the added instruction to snuff out some intel about the freedom fighters. All 3 men knew very well that a battle, an ambush, an attack, SOMETHING will happen.

 One rathered nothing would, one rathered something would, and one rathered an end to his torment.

 “Well, It’s time to divide forces. Wrecker, are you going on your own or with one of us?”, Grime asked, cordially. He knew that Wrecker was a lone wolf by nature, and he always tried to accommodate for his friend. Besides, he was good enough on his own. He was more than a match for whole squadrons of freedom fighters.

 Wrecker stared silently at the two of them, not sure what to choose for once, but Bog quickly settled it, an arm around his fellow warrior’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant! I’ll keep an eye on Amphibia’s best frog killer!”. Wrecker looked down in shame as Bog just grinned.

 Grime narrowed his eyes. He had just about enough of all this acceptance of a crime. He didn’t find Wrecker in contempt for a moment, but he did NOT want another catastrophe here, and even Grime could feel the tensions rising. He HAD to put a stop to this before it was too late, his father’s respect be damned!

 Stepping towards Bog, trying to break it nicely, he suggested “I would hope that kill was a one time thing. Even IF the warriors show up, we are more than capable of bringing them to justice ALIVE.”

 Now, normally Bog would have complied with orders (even if he disagreed with them). At most, he would have grumbled a bit. After all, he was an underling, and he knew that.

 But earlier that day, Bog had FINALLY heard a Toad leader say what he had ALWAYS wanted to hear: That he could protect his brothers and sisters properly! That he could defend his homeland from ANY threat!

 Bog could finally be a proper toad, like in the stories his grandfather used to tell of Captain Mire, and his glorious conquests down south! Bog could finally make HIS family name mean something!

 Bog could finally mean something.

 And not even the son of Captain Muck, with all his pathetic and nausea inducing speeches of peace could take that chance away from him!

 “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, perhaps you didn’t hear: But your father specifically approved of this so called “crime”. Maybe you need to get with the times and man up!”, Bog countered, loudly, almost aggressively, and he puffed up his chest, as if he was calling Grime to fight him.

 Grime was shocked, as was Wrecker, who had never seen such defiance, least of all in a loyal soldier like Bog. It was so surprising Grime actually began to feel a weird fire burn in his head, a rage he didn’t know he had.

 What was this toad doing? Defying HIS commands? Questioning HIS authority, the authority given to him by generations of Toad rule, his frog given birthright to lead HIS people to greatness?

 “What would father think?”, Grime thought, seeing the look of disappointment in the old man’s face. He was no Toad! Why, he was barely a maggot!

 And that made Grime even angrier, his teeth gritting and his face getting redder by the second.

 Grime puffed his chest too and stared Bog right in the eye. “Now, listen here, soldier! I am in command here! We are THE LINE. And we are here to keep the peace, not end it!”

 “We are in mortal danger, and you want us to just sit down and play nice with the enemy?”, Bog retorted, anger rising in his throat too.

 Wrecker didn’t even know what to think anymore, so he stayed silent.

 “The same blood flows in their veins as ours. We will not spill it!”, Grime growled, truly feeling enraged. His aforementioned veins throbbed and his fists clenched painfully, the palm getting nearly cut by the impact.

 “And what are you going to do if I protect us? Kill me?”, Bog checkmated, and Grime realized that for the first time, he was truly at a loss for words. Bog had him trapped: If he threatened to kill him (which felt terrifyingly enticing), he would be a hypocrite. And Bog was beloved among the men; they might just mutiny if he killed such a loyal soldier, and…

 Grime took a deep breath, feeling his horrible red hot anger and recoiling. He…

 He wasn’t like that. He…

 He didn’t kill.

 Grime took another breath and decided that he would have to let this be (for now) and allow Bog to do his thing until he could stop him. He’d need a chance to prove he is right in front of everyone…

 The cogs turned in his head as he deduced that no matter what there would be a skirmish, and if he could lead them when that happens, if he could control the battlefield and show that they wouldn’t have to kill them… Then he would be proven right! And Bog’s insubordience would be easier to deal with!

 Yes… He would do it like that.

 Happy with his plan, Grime backed off and said “Well… Let’s see what happens. Perhaps you will find that not all roads of success are paved with blood.”

 “…Keep telling yourself that.”, Bog sneered, and he walked off, Wrecker joining him in silent anguish.

 As they walked off down the busy streets, the people still practically frozen in place, Annie Lilypad had finally arrived at her destination, but before she could buy a single Beetle Jerky, she was greeted all too sadly by her least favorite sight in the world: Toad soldiers.

 “Not them!”, she thought angrily, and she glared with hate at the two who passed her, Bog and Wrecker.

 “Those guys always take everything from us! And they bully everyone in town any chance they get!”, she thought madly as one soldier pushed an old man hard into a nearby wall.

 Annie wished with all her might that she could do something, as more and more people got shoved and pushed and growled at, but she knew that if she did, she could be thrown into prison at best! After yesterday…

 Who knew how many hours she had left.

 But instead of feeling grateful to be alive, Annie just felt guilty. She stood by the side, thinking what she felt but not acting upon it. What was her value if she let injustice slide?

 “Great, Annie. You really are nothing.”, she mumbled darkly as she walked in the inn, her appetite nearly gone now.

 How could she ever be true to herself if she always stood down when the chance to leap arrived?

           It had been about three whole hours since they had started the visitations, and every house in Marsh Pond was left in near ruins, stripped and bared of its possessions, its residents scarred by the ruthlessness of the Toad Army. Bog and the soldiers, alongside a regretful Wrecker, had managed to ransack and desecrate home after home with zero challenge, the defenseless frogs receiving the justice they deserve for betraying their comrades.

 It was a monotonous cycle; The soldiers would walk in and make sure that none of the frogs would commit a heinous and cowardly attack on them, Bog and Wrecker would crowd control with Wrecker restraining the heads of the treacherous families and Bog rightfully punishing the tax evaders for failing to pay the reasonably high fees by removing any and all precious items from their houses as compensation.

 “We tried to pay… We really did! I sold all my silk worms, my wife works morning, noon, and night shifts at the hospital, and my children are starving! You must consider our situation, we wanted to, we really did…”, one maroon frog said, but it was a poor excuse in the eyes of Bog, who tightened his choke on the criminal’s throat, the wall getting more and more cracked by the effort.

 “Not good enough. I wanted to stay at home and not have to teach you to work harder, but I guess we don’t always get what we want…”, Bog replied, grinning wildly as he began pounding the frog in the stomach hard, the hurt man’s children and wife gasping as he choked for air, his insides shivering as Bog stared down at him and spat.

 “Wrecker, give him a good kick. Like you gave that outlaw in Swamp City that one time…”, Bog ordered, and Wrecker sadly stepped up to do so, causing the frog to heave heavily and cough violently.

 The same thing happened to the baker in town square when he was on the other side. When he was someone else.

 The frog gave all he had, but he didn’t give any intel on the “terrorists”, a worrying trend that continued in every other house they visited.

 They saw broken jaws, they saw shattered teeth, they saw black eyes and twisted elbows and bleeding chests, but they didn’t see a sliver of information on the whereabouts of these so called “honorable warriors” that stood up for Marsh Pond and its now crippled folk.

 “So you don’t just refuse to support your protectors, you actively band against them?!”, Bog screamed as he and a few other men lifted a barely composed woman, who was close to a concussion by now, so bruised and beaten she was.

 “I… I swear I know nothing… I swear on Frog’s name…”, she pleaded, but her prayers fell on deaf ears as she fell right through her own table, Wrecker watching from the sidelines, his sword stopping the woman’s wife from rushing to her aide.

 “Swear to Toad Tower!”, Bog declared with rage, and he shook off the impure blood from his fingers as the woman lost sight in one eye for the rest of her meaningless life.

 “All the houses look like they did back… Back in my village.”, Wrecker noted, as the wife screamed for him to let her tend to her love.

 Wrecker laid his eyes on the sobbing mess before him, tears dripping on his sword as he sadly realized that all the people looked the same too.

 In fact, this woman looked a lot like a woman he once knew…

 A woman he once…

 Wrecker barely swallowed the weight in his throat as he robotically followed the order given and threw the woman at her wife to “lie together in the filth”.

 As the righting of wrongs continued, as more and more souls were pierced by his actions, Wrecker tried to somehow reason it all, as Bog broke the nose of yet another thief of the state.

 Sure, every one of these sights disgusted him, but it was nothing new! He had been in countless battles, in countless prisoner orientations, in countless Tax Day checks. He had fought in skirmishes big and small, he had broken arms and legs and shoulders and ribcages, he had protected his homeland!

 But…

 But had he really?

 Were these his people? Were these his opinions? Was this his true self?

 Wrecker had never wanted to go down this road, this path. He had wanted to be anything else, but so lost he was on his journey, he found himself too late on the wrong trail. But was it too late?

 Wrecker thought so. He thought so greatly.

 He tried to avert his eyes as the frog retched out blood, but he couldn’t. This might as well be him making that poor man lie in a pool of his own blood, for crimes he couldn’t help but commit. It was him who was taking these people’s belongings, him who was starving these dying kids, him who was looking for war criminals who didn’t commit a single wrong.

 He was in the wrong. He was the sin, the sinner, and somehow the executioner.

 He could still hear the screams of the frog he killed.

 He could still hear his own screams.

 And now he could hear a third scream, the scream of an orange tinted frog boy, around the same age as he was that night, shaking his father awake and bursting into ugly tears.

 “You… He didn’t do anything! My uncle (ah, so not his father) is innocent, you… You monster!”, the young man called out, suddenly leaping at Bog and punching him in the face, causing all the soldiers and even Wrecker to gasp in shock.

 Bog recovered enough from his surprise to growl at the boy, his imposing figure causing the young man to cry and shake, a mess on the floor.

 And as all this happened, Wrecker looked at the boy and saw someone he hadn’t seen in years: He saw himself.

 He too had leapt for his father’s (well, the boy leapt for his uncle but still) defense that night. And he had nearly died. He too had challenged the beasts who feasted on his village… And for that he was nearly enslaved.

 He was…

 “Wrecker, teach this demon child what you get when you mess with the Toads!”, Bog ordered furiously, dragging Wrecker in front of the child.

 Wrecker’s lip nearly trembled as he unsheathed his sword, the boy hiccupping from fright, like he did. Clinging to his body for safety, like he did.

 He was…

 “Come on, Wrecker… Add to your list of accomplishments! Imagine the tales they’ll tell of the one who killed those who wish to silence us! Those who wish to destroy us! You will be the greatest legend in Toad history!”, Bog encouraged, goating him on.

 Wrecker breathed heavily, remembering his disapproving past self, remembering the horrors of that night, remembering how he screamed for a second chance…

 They had nearly killed him. They had nearly stopped his misery. He was cornered, he was down, and he could feel his heart slow down, and for a moment he thought that he had finally gotten what he deserved…

 But then she had come.

 Leaping into the scene, dressed like the night, she had cut them down. She had bundled him up (despite his size) and she had run to the hills, barely making it as they bit at her heels.

 It had taken the fastest knife slash he had ever seen to ensure he would survive.

 That night, she had told him to run. To find a new life. To live.

 To be the best version of himself. Not a slave, not a mistake, not an embarrassment…

 He would be a good frog. He would be a good frog.

 And she had ensured he would live so he could find himself here, about to create another Wrecker.

 If he killed the boy, he would have become the monster he always feared… And if he spared him, he would create a tortured soul, another Wrecker. And knowing himself, Wrecker could only wish he wouldn’t live to see someone like him.

 “Well… What are you waiting for?”, Bog asked, puzzled, patience wearing a little thin.

 Wrecker saw it. He saw the threshold. The place of no return.

 Both choices would condemn him to be what he always thought he was. Would he truly go that far? Would he truly kill a child?

 Was he really a monster?

 For so long, Wrecker would have told you that he was.

 For so long, Wrecker would have taken the step so the torture could end, so that he could finally recognize that it was too late for him, and that the final rest could finally descend on him.

 He had longed to be good all his life, and then he longed to finalize his metamorphosis.

 But as he gripped the sword, as he towered over the boy, he saw that his soul still flickered ever so slightly…

 Perhaps he couldn’t save himself.

 But he could save the boy. He could at least do that.

 He could at least do ONE. GOOD. THING.

 CLANG!

 Bog’s eyes returned from the sword to see an even more unbelievable sight: “That’s too far.”

 “…Is it?”

 Bog snarled as he stepped up to Wrecker, somehow towering over him.

 “Is it? I assume you didn’t notice all the other “horrible” things we did. I assume you have forgotten your brothers and sisters back home who could all die thanks to these brutes!”, Bog shouted, pointing at the crying messes on the floor, the children, the old lady, the man who was still shivering in his blood.

 Wrecker was beginning to get afraid. Bog was capable of doing anything. And worst of all… He was beginning to make sense.

 Not in that way, of course. But what had made the other things they had done less bad? He had stood by and participated and allowed all this to happen for 30 years now. What made this different?

 But the little voice still pleaded, his soul still fought.

 He stared right back. “We are protectors. Not killers. I… I won’t let you kill an innocent child. Or an innocent man. That is not the way.”

 Wrecker had expected a growl, a punch, a stab, anything. But Bog surprised him once more by laughing uproariously.

 Finishing, he wiped the spittle off of his mouth and whispered a heart shattering statement: “So… You want to play hero, eh? Go ahead… Prove to me you’re not a monster. Go ahead… Prove you still deserve to live.”

 And it was that that made Wrecker freeze.

 Why was he doing this? To… To save himself? Was he only doing this to ease his conscious?

 Wrecker looked at his hands, and saw nothing but blood. He had the audacity to dare to think that he could ever be more than the monster he was from the moment he was born. He had the gall to claim he was doing this for anyone but himself.

 He was saved by selflessness, and he was as ever repaying it with selfishness.

 It was HIS fault he drafted, it was HIS fault he had failed at all other vocations, and the crimes and atrocities committed were on his hands, not anyone else’s!

 Bog was right… He was the monster.

 He had crossed the threshold years ago. There was no way back.

 Wrecker looked down, and with a resigned huff, with a last breath of spirit, walked away, the road long gone, his chance dead once and for all.

 He was no frog…

 He was The Wrecker.

 And that was all he would ever be.

 “Good riddance! Come back when you’re ready to do the right thing!”, Bog shouted out, and returned his gaze to the broken frog before him, the uncle of the boy slowly standing up.

 “Anything to say… Traitor?”, Bog inquired with hate lacing his words.

 The frog hesitated… He would send his people, his friends to sure death. He would kill his comrades and doom the effort. He would be the frog who let Toad rule stay forever.

 But… But he made a vow. He had to keep that at least.

 “…I’ll tell you where they are. Just… Just don’t kill the boy. His… His father died yesterday. He’s suffered enough.”

 Bog took a deep breath and nodded.

 “…Leap Lillypad’s farm. It’s the last house down east. There’s 10 of them. And they’re waiting.”

 He then shook his head, guilt already making it spinning. “That’s it. That’s all I know. I promise.”

 “I believe you.”, Bog replied genuinely, and began to leave, his steps sending tremors through the room.

 As he continued walking, he smirked and said “The boy will live. But you… You won’t.”

 The frog stared wide eyes, barely holding himself up on the wall as the rest of the family gasped in shock. “What? Why?”

 “No honor among thieves… You’re a traitor in two ways. Scum like you don’t deserve to live. You’re nothing but a murderous rat. And there’s nothing I hate more… Than a selfish beast.”, Bog declared, and turning around he shoved his sword right through the frog’s guts, blood covering his face, his teeth yellow and red…

 And he laughed.

 “Leap Lillypad…”, he announced as he walked outside.

 “Today… Frog resistance dies.”

                (“Isolation” – Bryan Taylor, Iron Man 3)

 Tick.

 Tock.

 Tick.

 Tock.

 The Wrecker sat at Pickle’s Inn, the destruction around him surrounding him with more evidence of his failure. A glass of swamp slush mixed with Spyritus, which of course was the finest in Amphibia thanks to the finest grain Marsh Pond had to offer.

 A fly floated in his drink, and Wrecker gazed melancholicly at it, tiny ripples extending forever across time inside.

 Another ripple. Another ripple. Another ripple.

 Another life he has ruined.

 He failed the boy. He killed his father. He failed the boy’s uncle. And that was just today.

 He had 60 years of that to look back on and regret.

 “It’s amazing…”, he thought, looking at the drink and sighing. “Every single decision I’ve ever made has led me here. And every single one has been wrong.”

 He was here to drown his sorrows, perhaps forget that he had ever done any of this. Perhaps he could forget his regrets, and just continue serving, unaware of how wrong it all was. How amazing would that be! To live a life, ignorant of the pain he caused!

 But he couldn’t do that. Clearly, he was bad at being bad too.

 His heart beat rapidly as his hand extended to his belt buckle. His eyes tried to not avert from the dagger. The one he had used to indict himself of his sins for so long.

 “Perhaps the old girl can serve justice just once…”, he thought, sure that… Maybe… Just maybe… This was his chance. He couldn’t help it: Hope didn’t die. He couldn’t be bad, he couldn’t be good…

 Perhaps the best he could do was finally get out of the way, like he had always been told.

 “Guess I never did listen… Did I?”, he thought sadly, and he felt the dagger around, turning it with his palms. It was a bit blunt, worn from years of fighting. A broken tool… Like him.

 “How fitting.”

 If he could just rouse the courage… Just do the act…

 It would be a coward’s death, sure. But at least he wouldn’t be causing more pain.

 And at least he would rest. Finally… Sweet, glorious rest. A rest he had only ever dreamed of… One where maybe… It would all seem funny.

 The dagger began pointing in the right direction…

But the journey to its end point was still on hold. He gulped, as he instinctually recoiled at the prospect of shoving it in.

 “No!”, he shouted at himself, in his head. “I must be brave! This is the only thing I can do that would mean something! This is my last option!”

 He grunted. He shook. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he willed the knife to finally end it. End his pain. At least that.

 “At least give me that!”, he cried, begging for release.

 But…

 The dagger wouldn’t budge.

 The Wrecker, despite his loathing, couldn’t bring himself to die.

 Leaning back, just so very tired, he wondered “Now what?”

 He leaned on the desk, head buried in his hands. “I can’t be good, I can’t be bad, I can’t even be dead. What use am I? What’s left to do?”

 A single tear… Rolled down his cheek. “Where to go? What road to take? Who am I?”

 He whispered. “Why am I?”

 But there was no answer. Still no answer after all those years.

 Shivering, Wrecker truly wondered what was his next choice. What could he possibly do?

 Left with no choice, Wrecker looked up, as if he could see the sky through the roof, and begging, prayed to something, anything.

 “Please… I know I don’t deserve it… But… Please give me a sign…”

 He let out a pained sob, chugging down his entire drink, feeling his chest set on fire inside. It hurt like hell.

 “But not enough.”, he thought, setting the glass down, the clink echoing down the bar table and awakening Annie Lilypad, who was not used to having free time, as you can see.

 “Blaadgdsgsgsg I’m awake! Mwa wake! Nwot nappsing!”, She gibberished, shaking herself awake and looking around with blinking eyes to find...

 “(GASP!), she gasped, noticing the toad soldier from before, when she was walking towards the inn. His armor was dark, foreboding, his cloak bloody and tattered. His face was scar ridden, bulbous and ugly, and his entire aura was imposing and terrifying. Annie could hardly believe her eyes: How could ANYONE look so scary? Even for a toad, he seemed monstrous.

 At first, Annie wanted to hide, or even run as fast as she can, before she found herself 6 feet under. Rooming with her mom on a cloud was NOT something she looked forward to (at least, not yet). Her eyes darted around like mad, praying for some sort of escape. She could dash outside, but there were soldiers everywhere, and he would surely catch up. She could leap to the ceiling, but she wasn’t that sticky, and he could probably throw his dagger from down there. She could cower under the chair… But that would be pathetic and she would die of embarrassment alongside actual death. Also, he’d catch her.

 So all Annie had was to shake in fright as Wrecker looked down at her, a small size difference, but a difference nonetheless. And Annie was tall for a frog!

  “Maybe I could whistle innocently! That never works in the plays I see, and everyone knows fiction isn’t reality!”, she proposed to herself, and she began to do just that, her eyes lazily glancing at the ceiling, her whistling off-key.

 Wrecker observed this for a good 10 seconds before saying “…If you’re trying to get me not to notice you, you’re doing a pretty lousy job.”

 “DRAT! PLAYS! YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT LYING TO ME!”, She cursed, her fist shaking at the ceiling, which made Wrecker look towards it curiously before resuming his thousand yard stare at the wall.

 Annie suddenly realized 2 monumental things: The Toad had noticed her…

 And more importantly, he wasn’t trying to gut her, or shake her down for taxes.

 “Weird!”, she commented to herself, but she was relieved, and she showed it. At least she wasn’t dead or poor! That was something!

 Annie sighed, relaxed, and noticing that she still had some beetle jerky left, began to chew on it noisily, eyes closed in satisfaction. “Nothing like the satisfying crunch of beetle jerky!”, Annie said a loud without realizing so, before shutting her mouth in fear.

 She looked at Wrecker, who looked back at her, seemingly remembering something as he stared at the jerky.

 A million thoughts raced in Annie’s head: “Ohnohe’sgonnakillmehe’sgonnasmushupmybonesandtearmyarmsrightoffandsqueezemyeyesandspreadthejellyontoastwhichI’msurewouldtastegreatbutstillnonoIdon’twanttodiethere’ssomuchIstillwanttodosparemylifeifanyoneisupthereHELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 She saw a million different outcomes to her predicament, all of which involved her dying a million different ways.

 None of them actually predicted what would happen:

 “Beetle Jerky… I remember that.”, Wrecker stated, taking a slice and admiring it, the grease and crispness warming his palm in a nice, soothing way, like a warm cup of tea on a rainy November night. His eyes actually seemed to light up, and they made the dark and dreary inn just a little less gloomy.

 And, for just a moment, he actually smiled, a real, genuine smile. “They sold this when I lived in my village. I always liked it.”

 Annie had to blink rapidly to even begin to comprehend: What the hell was happening?

 Wrecker, meanwhile, continued to smile as he described the snack. “The savory, salty taste. The just slightly too hot ends that char your tongue, but in a pleasant way…”

 Annie actually began to smile too. How did he nail the exact feelings she had for Beetle Jerky?

 “Yeah, I know!”, she said with a grin, grabbing a slice too. “But you know what’s the best part?”

 “You bet! Nothing better than…”, he started, and they both exclaimed at the same time after taking a bite…

 “The crunchy sound.”

 Annie looked at him, still chewing, and smiled with her mouth full.

 And Wrecker, for the first time in almost 40 years…

 Smiled back.

 And for a moment, all was peaceful at the inn with two lost souls, mourning their nothingness.

 Alas, though, peace was rarely idle. Annie soon held her head up with her arms and, a little hesitatingly, offered an unsure question, a slight quiver in her words. “I… I didn’t know toads liked Beetle Jerky.”

 Surprised by the racist statement, Wrecker answered the quarry of sorts with an educating statement. “Well, I’m not a toad. But Toad aren’t the problem.”

 He narrowed his eyes, guilt racing though his bones, like the blood in his veins. “It’s Toad Tower that’s the culprit.”

 Annie, meanwhile, was still trying to make sure she heard the FIRST statement, and she rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? You’re not a Toad?”

 A short pause, and then Wrecker nodded.

 “…Are you sure?”

 Wrecker once more took a moment to answer before saying “…I’m something much worse.”

 Annie mumbled “Yeah, I can tell. You came here and ruined everything. But if that’s the case, why are you criticizing your leaders?”

 Sighing, Wrecker began standing up, only to find Annie standing in front of him, curiosity, righteous anger, confusion, and sadness all storming inside her as she held her ground, demanding an explanation. “Wait, no, that’s not good enough! If you’re not a Toad, that means you’re a Frog. And if you’re aware enough to say you’re way worse than the Toads, and that Toad Tower is the problem, then how come you came here to destroy our home? Your home?!”

 Wrecker grunted and pushed past Annie, like she was thin air. His expression sold on his frustration, but also on his self resentment. “No offense, kid, but I’m not going to sit here and give you my life story. I came here to forget, not to be pitied.”

 Annie was shocked. What was UP with this guy? First he looks all scary, then he’s all friendly and chummy, THEN he’s all self hating, and how he’s mean? What the hell is he on?

 Collecting herself, the young frog woman realized that if he was going, that meant he was going to continue hurting (or enabling) her friends, her neighbors…

 Her family.

 Enraged, Annie clenched her fists. She was sick and tired of the Toads and their oppression of poor innocent people. She had seen what they were capable of. How could this guy, who seemed to get that, just walk back in and allow them to continue? He HAD to understand that was insane!

 Still furious, Annie suddenly realized that THIS was her chance, and her eyes widened as the eureka moment made her glow: OF COURSE! The universe was presenting her with a chance! A chance to spare at least ONE frog of more suffering! Of more pain!

 If she could stop this guy before he did any more harm, then Annie would have finally done something worthy in her life! She would have finally done SOMETHING!

 Still, stopping a toad soldier… This guy looked tough. He could probably bite her head off or something! What good would she be if her head was off and everything? She needed it for head-related things!

 Annie considered doing nothing, retreating. She was strong for her age, but she would be nothing against a trained beast like him. There was no use. Better to go back and let him do his work.

 …

 But that was not who she was. Not one bit.

 Like a bolt of lightning, Annie ran out the inn and turned around just in time to meet Wrecker again face to face. The warrior was startled for a moment, but not for long, and he frowned down at her. “Listen, little girl, I am not some sob story! So back off!”

 Annie stared him down, fully determined and not afraid for a moment. “I’m 20 years old.”

 “Whatever. I don’t care, which is what you should do with me. Now, let me go!”, Wrecker ordered, and he began to walk down to her, but she stood her ground and stood on her tippy toes to be even taller than him, eyes blazing.

 “No! Toad or not, you’re a jerk like the others! Maybe even worse! How can you do something you know is bad? How can you let them do something you know is wrong? What kind of person are you?”, Annie shouted, not an ounce of fear or reservation in her tone. She felt brave, for the very first time. She felt…

 Meaningful.

 But Wrecker was not impressed. In fact, he seemed very pained: His eyes were so narrowed you could barely see them, his nails were digging into his palms, and his body was shaking, but whether it was with rage or with desolation, one couldn’t tell.

 Barely able to form words, Wrecker tried his best to get the girl out of his way and out of his head: “Move. Away. Now.”

 “Make me!”, she challenged defiantly.

 “No!”, Wrecker shouted, perhaps too loudly.

 “Why? I thought you Toad Tower guys were ok with killing, considering yesterday!”

 “That’s not who I am! You don’t know the whole story!”

 “Then what is it, then? Why are you letting this happen?”

 “It’s not like that!”, Wrecker tried to finish, but he was really beginning to lose it. He was going to crack any minute now.

 “Really? Because I’m starting to think you’re just a no good, cowardly, vulgar, evil murderor!”, Annie flung the insult, and that was it.

 He snapped.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!”, Wrecker screamed at her before falling to his knees, sending a thud that nearly made Annie fall down to the ground.

 Still regaining her balance, Annie stared at Wrecker with shocked eyes, as Wrecker began to actually shed a tear in front of another person.

 He didn’t wipe it.

 “You think that I don’t know what a monster I am? You think I don’t hear that poor frog’s screams? I’ve spent 30 years living a lie because I was the worst at everything but surviving!”, he shouted, his voice getting weak, his true self showing itself to the world, fragile and hurt, an injured soul crying for help.

 “I tried to ignore it… I tried to be better… I tried to be good, I tried to be bad, I tried to be dead! I tried to follow their orders, I tried to stop them from hurting this village, I tried everything!”, he exclaimed, shivering now, his carefully constructed tower of continuity finally crashing down to the ground. All walls and barriers were down as Wrecker finally admitted he was lost to the world.

 Annie, meanwhile, was still shaken, and she could only listen as Wrecker tried somehow to get across how lost he was.

 “I KNOW I’ve done horrible things… I can’t take them back. I can’t take anything back. And I don’t want to be forgiven, ‘cause I don’t deserve it.” Wrecker choked out, wishing his dagger had been braver.

 Burrying his face in his hands, Wrecker finally admitted to a single, horrible truth. “I am sorry. I truly am sorry. But it’s too late for me. It’s been too late for me since the moment I was born. I’m not good, I’m not bad, I’m not anything.”

 He sighed morosely, accepting his fate. “I’m trapped in a cage of my own making. I can’t fix what I did. So just forget about me. Go ahead and be someone. Take the right road, and stay there. Because if you close your eyes… If you give in to yourself… You’ll turn into me.”

 Silence reigned, and with Wrecker still on the ground, Annie did not know what to say. She was saddened by his tale, for sure. She could tell it was real: No one would just act something like that out. Whoever this person was, maybe they weren’t so bad. After all, what kind of villain advices a kid to do better, what kind of villain apologizes for his failures?

 Maybe there was more to him than meets the eye.

 Besides, she knew how he felt. Perhaps… Perhaps she could cheer him up… Just for a moment.

 Slowly walking up to him, Annie sat down silently and looked down at him tenderly. Wrecker, noticing her, looked up, his tear still running down, his face representing the mess inside.

 Smiling softly, Annie sighed and said “…I’m nothing too.”

 Wrecker blinked for a moment…

 And not being able to help himself…

 Smiled.

 “I appreciate that. But as I said: It’s too late for me. I’ve been wrong about every single thing in my life.”, he replied, still broken.

 “If that’s the case…”, Annie said, still encouraging. “Maybe you’re wrong about this as well.”

 Wrecker sat up and observed the woman with an odd look, not knowing what to make of her. Did she actually think?...

 Hesitatingly, she held his hand, and he recoiled at her touch, having not felt the tenderness of another person for about 40 years. She too found the moment a little scary, his bruised and rough hand feeling like nothing she’d ever touched, like the thorns on a rose. But, well, the thing with roses is that there’s more to them than meets the eye, now isn’t there? “I don’t think a nobody would be so nice to someone he’s never met. I don’t think a nobody would try to stop his fellow men from hurting my friends. And I don’t think a nobody would do try and help little old me in anything.”

 Wrecker shook his head, failing to believe any of this.

 She was just being nice for the sake of being nice, and that was all.

 …Or was she?

 After all, as she said, perhaps he was ALSO wrong about this, which would simultaneously be surprising and not surprising!

 Perhaps…

 Wrecker looked at Annie with a rising feeling of renewed hope, or perhaps purpose.

 Something about this young frog with messy hair and a winning, toothy smile, with eyes that seemed to cheer him on, despite only having met him a few minutes ago, made Wrecker feel as if maybe there WAS hope.

 After all, if someone this innocent, this surprisingly kind, and this hurt by the Toads could look at him and say that he could be better, then…

 Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

 But before Wrecker could even begin to think about how amazing that would be…

 BOOM!

 A flare shot up to sky, illuminating the clouds and clearing with a fiery red that changed the mood on the ground completely, Wrecker narrowing his eyes in recognition, Annie’s eyes widening in concern, not knowing for a moment what that was.

 “What does that flare mean?”, she asked hesitatingly, fearing the worst.

 Wrecker, sadly, had to confirm those fears. “That’s the reinforcement flare. They’re fighting the freedom fighters for sure.”

 Annie nodded to all this before realizing where the flare was coming from. And as soon as she did, her eyes filled with tears and she scrambled up from the ground, frantically, face screaming with panic.

 “OH NO! DAD! THEY’RE IN MY DAD’S FARM! THEY’RE GOING TO KILL HIM!”, She screamed, barely believing the words. Heck, she was barely controlling her body: It was like it was on auto-pilot, and she was just along for the ride as she dashed like a madwoman down the gravelly road, scratched feet be damned!

 Wrecker, who had no time to react as the brave girl ran into certain death in lightspeed, soon realized she did exactly that. There was no way she would survive: With Bog leading that battalion, and when they’re fighting those revolutionaries… Why, she’d be dead in seconds, if not sooner!

 …She’d be dead in seconds.

 This poor, innocent, kind soul who did nothing wrong, and who was only being attacked because she was a frog, would DIE because he had failed to stop Bog.

 Wrecker breathed heavily, overwhelmed and guilt ridden, before something woke up in him and he realized: This was the poor boy he had failed today all over again.

 Once more, Wrecker had let a child be in danger because he had wandered off his path.

 Yet, here was the crossroads yet again, clear for all to see.

 One path led to his safety, to a lifetime of dutiful service and easy living, and a chance to go down as one of the greatest warriors the Toads had ever known: A path of eternal honor and pride.

 The other would lead to his certain death, be that in the battlefield, in prison, or even by execution: He would be shamed and humiliated, and his name would go down as a synonym for treachery, and for cowardice. A path of eternal failure and damnation.

 He would never get a chance to fix all his sins. Never get a chance to prove his worth.

 And for a moment, Wrecker hesitated, Wrecker wondered if maybe he was making the wrong choice.

 Maybe it would be easier to just stay on the path he was on, and give in. After all, he WAS a failure.

 …

 But the girl would live.

 Standing up immediately, needing no more convincing, Wrecker clenched his fist, unsheathed his sword, and with a determined deep breath, knowing his minutes were numbered, said…

 “Here goes nothing.”

         (“Fire Nation Theme” and “War” by Jeremy Zuckerman, The Track Team and Lucas King)

“We know you’re in there!”, Bog shouted, pounding the barn door that held the freedom fighters away from his wrath and rage. No one of course answered the door, the fighters preparing for their final stand together, praying it would not be the final stand of frogkind.

 Bog’s battalion stirred nervously as he kept battering away at the door, splinters of wood flying off from the impact of his fist. Armors clinked and clanked in the wind, and weapons shook at the ready, the soldiers well aware that inside were ruthless and vicious enemies, ready to grind up their bones, massacre their families and burn their homeland to the ground.

 Wiping the blood off of his dagger, a piece of ribcage attached to it, that turned into dust as it clattered on the ground, Bog pointed back at the inferno behind him with mock and challenge in his tone. “If it’s your farm you wanted to keep, it’s too late, Lilypad! Your livelihood is like your time: Burning away rapidly!”

 He was almost laughing, a terrifying mixture of rage and utter glee on his face, Pugs noted, still carrying the guilt of her involvement in this sordid affair.

 “Well? What are you afraid of? That we prove you are the vermin you’ve always been? You frogs have done nothing but live off our generosity, and if you think you can destroy the masterace, you have another thing coming!”, Bog called out, most of the soldiers verbally agreeing, shocked that such malevolent actions were planned to be taken against their families and friends.

 “So go ahead… I’d like to see you try!”, He roared, and the field, for a moment, grew silent.

 The sun was almost down, but the battlefield that was once the place where a farmer cared for his daughter more than for himself was illuminated by the bright flicker and crackle of the fire behind the soldiers, which only increased their sweating. The ground which had once been the source of Annie’s first steps as she decided to help her father with the farmwork was now being walked on by toads determined to bring forth his final steps. And the barn where he found the very item that would change Amphibia forever was now being torn apart by the power hungry and blindly self righteous men who had driven his father to hide it here in the first place.

 It was all so poetic, but Leap had not time for poetry. He only had time for the here and the now, and that meant ensuring his daughter lived and his species survived.

 Taking one last lingering look at the place where it began and ended with the smallest hint of a tear in his eye, Leap picked up a carved axe with a watermelon red head, and with fast and efficient work thanks to years of dutiful farm work, chopped a doorway open.

 “MOO!”, the silk worms bellowed, their eyes wide with panic as they stormed out of the barn and raced to the hills, leaving a mucus trail behind them that smelt of home to Leap.

 Turning to his brothers, the front door nearly burst open, a hand beginning to make its way through, Leap nodded and motioned for them to charge as he ran out the back, eyes aflame with courage.

 His legs were barely out of the barn as, armed with rakes, sticks, lit torches and pitchforks, the other freedom fighters stormed right out into the battlefield, their collective effort knocking Bog and his soldiers back onto the ground with a collective thud.

 “For Freedom! For Equality! For Marsh Pond!”, the fighters called out, in utter defiance, hearts in their chest, as Bog slowly rose up and laughed quietly, a chill running down his soldier’s spines.

 “What a pity, then, that you die for nothing…”

 Raising his sword, Bog lumbered up and in one clean motion sliced the head off of the frog in the middle, before fighting off two rakes at the same time, easily holding his own and grinning with anticipation.

 “CHARGE!”, He ordered uproariously and his battalion began to enter battle formations and flank themselves for an offensive onslaught, swords and daggers aimed at the enemy with assurance and poise. Meanwhile, the archers ran back and positioned themselves for long range attacks, though the flaming crops made it hard to see or hear.

 “CHARGE!”, Mog Gravel, who was taking on Bog with a torch now that his rake was lying broken on the ground, ordered, and the fighters left standing ran to confront their oppressors with fires in their bellies and determination in their eyes.

 The sounds of sword swipes and pitchfork clanging echoed across the field as the Toads more than held their own, but found themselves struggling with the utter passion the freedom fighters were exhibiting. Each sword and dagger strike were blocked with a pitchfork and stick parry and vice versa.

 Torches fell on the ground and set one fighter’s rags on fire, and seizing her chance, she grabbed a soldier by the throat to set him on fire too, the two burning to a crisp before the eyes of the horrified warriors.

 Sticks poked out a toad’s eyeball, who quickly retorted with an eyeball removal of his own, blood gushing out of the wounds and painting the path red.

 Arrows sailed down and struck through the heart of one freedom fighter, but due to the intense fire that blocked their sights, the archers also ended up piercing their fellow toads through the heart or head. Some struck fighters would end up taking their arrows out and, with moments left to stay alive, pierce an opposing warrior with same deadly arrow.

 Pugs, meanwhile, was seeing all this and panicking as she sustained the siege with the others in the barrier, soon to be next to lay their life down the line. But Pugs couldn’t stand another second of it: She was not only seeing her fellow comrades die, but also innocent frogs who merely wanted to live as fellow equals die. She was destroying the place her father had described to her so many times before, and she couldn’t live with her betrayal.

 She could only help one faction. And so, she did just that.

 Racing off to the beginning of the burning crop field, she took out her signal pistol and aimed it towards the smogy sky that was not so blue anymore.

 Bog, still barely fighting off two other fighters, while three others somehow managed to subdue his entire battalion, which only furthered to piss him off, turned to her while still fighting and bellowed “Don’t you DARE call for backup! Lieutenant Grime will impede out victory!”

 For 13 years, Pugs had lived and served under a regime that had trained her to fight all those who sought to destroy the common good.

 So she didn’t see it as a betrayal as she looked Bog straight in the eye…

 And shot the flare gun anyway.

 Bog wrestled the frogs off of him and growled at the defiant teen, his sword ready to kill a fellow toad already. “You’ve taken your final breath for your people, traitor.”, he uttered, almost silently, rage consuming him.

 “…Yes. I have.”, she replied bravely, and with one swoop…

 SHNIKK!

 She collapsed onto the ground, her own sword protruding out of her chest.

 Bog stared at the body with zero emotion and merely turned around to confront the men who tried in vain to take him from behind, continuing to overpower them.

 But, unfortunately for him, the other toads were horrified at the death of their friend, who was younger than some of them. They gasped and stared at her now limp body, and this allowed the three frogs armed with pitchforks to slice through their ranks, slowly turning the tide of the battle.

 “YOU IDIOTS! KILL THEM! THEY’RE OUTNUMBERED!”, Bog screamed, and his suffering continued as the sound of hurried marching approached his ears.

 Managing to avoid the archers, Grime and his battalion (who were more or less in agreement with him on not killing the freedom fighters) arrived at the field, shocked and stupefied by the events that played out before them: 5 frog warriors were managing to push back an entire battalion of toads. Add the flaming crops, the limp bodies scattered all over the ground and mutilated by the ignoring feet of the soldiers and the rain of arrows that they barely avoided, and it was a tragedy playing in near slow motion.

 “P… PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN! WE… WE WILL TAKE THEM DOWN PEACEFULLY!”, Grime ordered with a mighty shout, but his words meant nothing in the chaotic battlefield. He could barely choke out the words, so taken aback he was by it all. He had sworn he would fix this before it happened, but now it was more than too late! His brothers and sisters, and his fellow frogs were mowed down like flies by the very thing he promised he’d prevent!

 If he wasn’t trained to suppress such pathetic showings of weakness, he would have gone down to his knees and wept for the lives lost.

 But he had to make his father, and his mother… Proud...

 He had to.

 Marching over to Bog and deflecting the pitchfork strike of the frog before him, Grime hollered at his turncoat toad. “I TOLD YOU TO DO WHAT IS BEST FOR AMPHIBIA!”

 Bog, growling, sliced the head of the same frog clean off and stared Grime straight in the eye. “I AM! ARE YOU?!”

 As the two toads clashed with words, Wrecker and Annie finally arrived, narrowly avoiding the arrows.

 Annie’s eyes were hungry with worry: She had clearly cried all she could along the way. Her feet were sore, her knees screamed to buckle and her chest was burning almost as much as the fields she had once worked in, which set off the water works again. She frantically called out for her father, but heard nothing. “DAD! DAD! DAD, PLEASE ANSWER ME!”

 While Annie’s heart tore itself apart, Wrecker found himself narrowly deflecting arrows and looking around for something else: Any threat to the girl’s life. He couldn’t care less about himself, which was why when the flames licked his coat and just failed to set him on fire or when an arrow grazed his cheek or when a sword nearly cut his arm off, he didn’t care.

 All that mattered was that this girl he didn’t even know, would live. All that mattered was that one person would benefit from knowing him.

 He didn’t matter: His path was gone. But she still had a long way to go.

 “Kid…”, he started, as he grasped her by the side and carried her, almost like a briefcase, or a kitty.

 He looked at her, and his eyes flashed with concern, as he realized this all felt sort of familiar. “…You have to survive. Your heart has years left ahead of it.”

 Annie tried to wrestle out of his grasp as he narrowly dodged slash after slash. He slid under a torch, dust kicking up and blinding some of the men.

 “NO! I HAVE TO FIND MY DAD!”, She screamed, her voice nearly lost, tears dampening his arm. She kicked and flailed around, sobs strangling her throat.

 Wrecker looked at her, not knowing what to do. He had to save her… But how was he going to save her AND find her father?

 But the look of utter fear on her face reminded Wrecker that he was once in that exact same place.

 With one key difference: This father could be saved.

 Rousing courage, Wrecker looked around and suddenly spotted a hint of blue skin and a sunhat peeking out of a grassy spot outside of the barn.

 Looking down at Annie, Wrecker decided to play hero, and for once, play it right. “Kid, I just might have good news for you.”

 The smile on Annie’s face made Wrecker wish he could live long enough to see it again.

 If only he had noticed that a pair of eyes were trained on him…

 A pair of eyes, with a mouth that snarled…

 Racing towards the grass, Wrecker could feel his heart leaping from his chest, nearly making him suffocate, as he dodged arrow after arrow, covering Annie from any harm. His body was suffering too, though, the wounds from before beginning to slow him down, and the heat of the fire making his vision blurry.

 His whole body seemed to be seething with pain, as a particularly sharp arrow lodged itself into his back, making him grunt with pain. Blood was surely spewing out of it, but he didn’t have time to care about that.

 This girl NEEDED to see her dad. This girl NEEDED to live.

 “Come on, old man…”, he whispered harshly at himself, turning around and staring straight at the halestorm of arrows that descended upon him, each one looking like it could be the one that finally put him to sleep.

 “Use those survival skills for someone worthwhile!”

 His sword flashed through the air, nearly blinding him and Annie as he took down arrow after arrow, with shocking speed and precision. Each sharp messenger of death was cut down like it was nothing, arrowheads falling aimlessly onto the ground before him, as he backed along, Annie still being held tight.

 Annie had never been that close to death in her entire life, and she was still internalizing seeing her own neighbors fighting for their lives against those monsters. But she had also never seen such bravery as Wreckers in that moment, as he stared death in the eye and never relented.

 Suddenly, he looked at her, mucus dripping down his face from his pores, a gash on his left cheek. It was horrifying at first, when, suddenly, in the most tender voice, he asked “Are you hurt?”

 In that moment, Annie realized that Wrecker was more than he thought he was. In that moment, Wrecker was finally seen as more than a monster.

 “…No.”, she answered, and Wrecker suddenly turned around.

 “Come on! There’s someone who looked an awful lot like you over near that patch of grass! Blue, sunhat, ring a bell?”, he asked, quickly, taking the chance to run as the archers finally stopped firing at him from before.

 “THAT’S HIM!”, Annie shouted with glee, and in no time, Wrecker leaped in the air to land right where…

 “Where is he?!”, Wrecker shouted, in disbelief, and Annie too was shocked, seeing nothing but grass.

 “I… I don’t get it…”, Annie stuttered, tears in her eyes again.

 Wrecker looked at her sadly, bewildered. “He… I saw someone, right…”

 “STOP THE FIGHTING!”

 The swords stopped slashing, the daggers lay dormant in the bloodied and bruised hands of the soldiers, and not a single arrow flew as all eyes laid upon the speaker who stood in the middle of the field, not a single word uttered.

 Because Leap Lilypad held aloft a box, one none of them have ever seen before.

 While one would surely wonder why they’d stop for a thing they did not know, the answer was quite simple: The frogs next to him immediately dropped their weapons and stood behind him, faces suddenly losing their determination and adopting an all too terrifying feature: Surrender.

 A clank was the first sound to echo as Grime let go of his weapon and brandished his words, with utmost care and precision. “…Now… Whatever that is… I’m sure we can talk it out…”

 Silent steps progressed towards Leap, who showed no fear, no hesitation, no worry.

 Just resolve.

 Annie saw him, saw her father step closer to the jaws of death, and a scream nearly went out of her mouth, if it wasn’t for the other figure that suddenly appeared before them, a sword now aiming at her throat, dangerously close.

 “Wrecker… What are you doing with this monster… This FROG?”, Bog spat in derision, silent madness present in his eyes as the wind stopped and time stood still.

 Grime, meanwhile, dropped his dagger and steadily raised his hands in peace, showing he had no intent to kill or hurt the farmer before him, who held aloft his ace in the hole with steady hands.

 “Listen to me… We are NOT your enemies.”, Grime reassured, voice as soft as a mother’s caress. “What my commander did, what my men did… It is my fault. Not yours. Not anyone else’s.”

 Leap stared at him oddly, recognizing in him something very familiar.

 Annie wanted to see her father, wanted to save him, wanted to leap out and dash into the field and protect him from harm, but one inch and her head would be rolling near the grass.

 Wrecker, meanwhile, moved the sword away and fixed eyes with the brute before him, unwavering for once in his life.

 His voice, however, was jumpy, aware of what could befall the poor girl he HAD to save, if he, as usual, failed.

 “Bog… Listen to me… Leave the girl out of this. She’s not your enemy.”, Wrecker explained, trying his best to calm the toad down.

 But Bog was too far gone, and too afraid to do such a thing, and he grunted, the ground shaking from his rage.

 “Have you gone mad?! She’s the enemy! They’re all the enemy! They want to kill our brothers, our sisters, our families! We are THE LINE, Wrecker! And she… She’s going to burn it all to the ground. She’s the monster, not me!”, Bog screamed, years of programming, of brainwashing, packed into one shove, but Wrecker stood his ground, and didn’t fall.

 “I thought that break would clear your mind…. But you’re not thinking clearly!”, Bog stated, teeth gritting in fury.

 Wrecker took a deep breath, looking for a moment at the tearful Annie.

 Realizing she was all there was.

 One life.

 It mattered.

 She mattered.

 And maybe, for just a moment…

 He would matter.

 “Please…”, Grime asked, offering his hand, doing his best to ignore his father’s voice screaming at him for taking this route. He took one knee, to show solidarity of sorts. He had to do ONE GOOD THING. “…Please… It doesn’t have to be like this.”

 Leap sighed, his mind made up long ago. Nothing could shake him… Not even a genuinely good toad soldier. “I’m sorry… But it does.”

 Leap closed his eyes, feeling Eliza’s touch once more. He could still feel Annie, when he had first held her… And made a vow.

 “No, Bog…”, Wrecker said, stepping up, sword now up in the air and glinting. (“The Mandalorian Theme” by Ludwiig Goransson plays). A deep breath, a choice made.

 The warrior was at peace with his decision.

 “For the first time in my life… I am thinking clearly.”

 He raised a protective hand to cover the sobbing Annie, who covered her face and prayed it would all just end.

 “I participated in your war… And turned into a monster. I killed an innocent man and I hurt those in need. Because I thought I had no other choice.”

 Wrecker sighed, before staring right into Bog’s eyes, the beast barely listening.

 “But… I’m TIRED… Of being the monster.”

 Wrecker restlessly grunted as he tried to do something right once more.

 “I have to do ONE. GOOD. THING.”, Wrecker stated, prepared to die on this ground for Annie. “This girl MUST live. So… Strike me down 100,000 times.”

 Wrecker closed his eyes…

 For once…

 At peace.

 “I’ve felt worse pain…”

 A moment passed…

 And Bog pushed him aside, roaring with rage.

 “I have to do ONE GOOD THING. One day… There WILL be peace.”, Leap said.

 “There is no war.”, Grim countered, trying to somehow save it all. “We are one.”

 Leap chuckled warmly and shook his head. “No… No we are not. Not yet.”

 And with that, Leap reached for the box opening, as a wave of arrows, swords and daggers flew at him, and as Grime, terrified of what could happen, leapt in front of one of his men to defend him from what would befall.

 “Fine, Wrecker! I’ll do that once I’m done with her!”, Bog screamed, and he raised his sword, Annie screaming with fright and closing her eyes, hugging herself as death knocked on her door.

 Wrecker, on the floor, stared at this and suddenly…

 “No…”

 Suddenly…

 “No…”

 Suddenly…

 “NO!!!”

 Leapt in front of Annie, deflecting Bog’s sword with his own.

 Finally…

 He did ONE GOOD THING.

 Leap then opened the Calamity Box…

 And as a blinding light spread across the area, as bright as the sun’s rays, Leap shed a million tears and smiled at the sun.

 “Farewell, Annie… See you in a moment… Eliza…”, he whispered, and from then on, was silent.

 BOOM!

 A massive, ear piercing land destroying horror inducing scream of an explosion erupted and sent a shockwave that made the earth itself quake, as bodies flew in all directions, houses got ripped out of their roots and hills got turned into massive sinkholes.

 The streets of Marsh Pond disintegrated instantly, carts and arenas and merchant guilds practically melting, people turning into dust, fires spreading across the crops and destroying them instantly.

 The sky itself seemed to crack almost, a tear nearly caused in the time space contimuum.

 The box had only been opened a crack.

 (“Anakin’s Suffering – Imperial March” – Sad Ochestration)

 Once the explosion began to settle, a dust storm rose, one which woke up a somehow still alive Grime, who could barely believe it himself.

 Choking, he coughed out the dust and rubbed his eyes, only to find that beneath him…

 Was nothing.

 Heart skipping a beat, Grime stood up, and saw that in front of him…

 Was nothing.

 And there was nothing in all the other directions.

 Grime’s stomach tossed and turned, and his heart pounded and his brain pulsed as he turned around and around, but still saw nothing.

 No bodies… No buildings… No crops… No barn, no house, no nothing.

 There…

 They were all gone.

 “How had I even survived?”, Grime thought, staring at his hand as if it wasn’t there.

 Then, it hit him: All his men were dead.

 Grime felt dizzy, his head spinning as he tried to somehow compose himself.

 He stumbled along the grass, trying to breath and not collapse, when he saw Bog’s body.

 At first, Grime assumed the worst, but no… His heart was beating.

 “Unfortunate.”, a voice rang in his ear, and Grime felt a sudden jolt in his heart, as if he only now realized what those words entailed.

“I don’t want that!”, He shouted, but it was no use, the voice continued.

 “You failed me, boy! You let those men die because you weren’t brave enough! How will you ever earn your title, your bloodline, your family, your life! If you do nothing but sob for those who live to serve you! Serve us! You are failing me, boy!”, the voice shouted, and Grime felt like collapsing to his knees, but it would be weak…

 Like Bog…

 And those men…

 Those men HE failed…

 “You should have saved them…”, a different voice called. It was softer, feminine, more caring…

 But somehow, Grime still felt shame.

 “I was weak… I was a failure, like always…”, he sobbed, getting to his knees, realizing he was the only real survivor.

 Grime thought back: to how his methods failed to stop the explosion, to how his foolishness allowed him to leave Bog unsupervised. He was in charge, he was responsible…

 He had killed all those men.

 Blood had been spilled that day…

 And it was all over his hands.

 Weeping, Grime pounded the floor with rage, as if in prayer it would set the clock back, but he was trapped in a horror of his own making.

 “I failed…”, he sobbed. “I failed… I was supposed to be good enough.”

 Grime shivered as his heart cried out for his brothers and sisters he had murdered in cold blood.

 He looked up to the sky, with tears in his eyes.

 “I just wanted to do… ONE. GOOD. THING…”

        (“Corynorhirnus” – Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard)

 Meanwhile, north of the now totally decimated and demolished Marsh Pond…

 “…Wrecker…”, a voice called in his head.

 Wrecker’s eyes were closed, but somehow, the warrior knew he was floating.

“…Did I do it? Did I… Did I actually do ONE… GOOD… THING?”

 Silence.

 “…Yes.”, the voice answered simply.

 Tears flew freely for once. He sighed in relief. “I… I never thought this day would come.”

 His voice was almost like a child’s as he asked “…Are you sure this is not a dream?”

 “No. You really did come through.”

 “She’s safe?”

 “Yes.”

 Wrecker’s small moment of dread escaped as soon as it came, and he grinned, actually grinned, as he realized…

 “So… I WAS worth it… I… I’m not just a waste of space…”

 His tears cascaded to the ground and Wrecker’s heart slowed down.

 “…Can I rest? Please?”, Wrecker begged, his tone that of a boy who just wanted to be loved once.

 “…You are not The Wrecker… There’s still value in you… You just have to find it…”

 The voice seemed to smile.

 “Wrecker… You are capable of so much more… Than just One. Good. Thing…”

 Suddenly, Wrecker jolted awake, seeing nothing but forest plain…

 And a box that looked all too familiar in his palms.

 At first, he gasped: He saw what that thing was capable of.

 He couldn’t take it!

 Yet…

 Could he leave it?

 “In the wrong hands…”, Wrecker thought, a sense of responsibility that was always there now finally free.

 He didn’t have to finish.

 Pocketing it in a flash, Wrecker turned around, wondering if perhaps the voice was wrong, perhaps he could rest…

 But then he saw her.

 (“Wild Woods” – Forest Music and Relaxing Magical Music – Elven Woods)

 Sitting on the forest floor, the wind blowing her hair, Annie Lilypad bowed her head in mourning to a pile of leaves and sticks she had assembled to form a grave.

 She wished she had the body…

 But it was the least she could do.

 “Thank you… Thank you for loving me, despite me.”, she prayed, her words rising to the skies…

 A cloud seemed to smile at her.

 But she couldn’t tell if it was her imagination.

 Annie had cried so much, she wasn’t sure she could cry more. She was just so tired…

 So she just hugged her knees to her stomach and shook.

 What was left for her to do?

 Who was left for her?

 …What path should she take?

 And in that moment, Wrecker understood his rest would have to wait.

 But he nodded his head, not with pain…

 But with purpose.

 “…Job’s not over yet, old man.”, he told himself, and he limped towards Annie, the explosion having done a number on his right leg.

 Annie was still cold as ice when a hand was placed on her.

 “Come on. Let’s get moving.”

 Annie suddenly looked up, surprised, as the warrior who nearly died for her of all people walked past her and stopped, looking back.

 He motioned with his head, and she slowly stood up, confused, bewildered.

 Why her?

 “…I don’t understand.”, she said, shaking.

 Wrecker took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure how to say it.

 Suddenly, he looked down…

 And saw a path.

 A light turned on in his head…

 And he looked at her.

 “It’s too dangerous out here. Until I can find a place for you to stay… Someone has to keep you on the right path.”

 Annie listened carefully…

 And despite her father’s death…

 She smiled through the tears.

 This…

 This hero had given her so much.

 She had a chance to make up to her father, and be someone.

 And maybe even help this strangely kind stranger.

 Running up to him, she grasped his scarred hand, which had an oddly healing effect on him.

 “Strange… I just got hired for the same job.”

 Wrecker didn’t know what to say…

 But for the third time in a day…

 He smiled, genuinely.

 Perhaps he had finally caught up with the winds of change.

 (“The Mandalorian Theme” – Ludwig Goransson)

 As the duo began to walk down the path, Annie just had one question: “You know… I never introduced myself. My name is Annie. Annie Lilypad.”

 She stared up at him, sending him the love he hadn’t had in 40 years. It was magical.

 “What’s yours?”

 Wrecker looked towards the sun…

 And took a deep breath.

 Who was he?

 He squeezed her hand protectively.

 “…I’m the Wrecker.”

  END OF CHAPTER 1.

       1.  From the very first few lines, this story is about a frog who goes by the name “The Wrecker” and works for the Toads. The intent of this story is to tell a tale of a man who has hit rock bottom, only to discover there is still a capacity for good in him, leading him to slowly but surely climb out. It is one of my favorite types of story, so it was bound to happen!

2.  The soundtrack choices were not easy, but I went for what sounded best in my head. I recommend listening to the songs, but you don’t have to! I would love to know if you guys also have any musical suggestions for the series, since I only know so much!

3.  Fitting that the main inspiration for this fic (The Mandalorian) is the theme that’s used the most, and the one that starts us off. A tale of a complicated and better than he thinks soul.

4.  I usually don’t have a ton of description on my stories, since I’ve always been more of a dialogue and feelings person, but I was happy to incorporate it here! I feel like you can feel many of the scenes, give or take a few mistakes (I am new at this!

5.  All questions about Wrecker (including who he is) will be answered in the future episodes!

6.  I write Toad Tower like a combo of The Empire, Rome, Nazi Germany and The Fire Nation. I try to write from their perspective while offering a glimpse of who they really are from those who are not blinded. The self importance seeps through, sometimes I forget they’re the bad guys! Of course, not all toads are bad (see Pogs, Grime).

7.  Creating cities like Marsh Pond and Swamp City was oodles of fun! I’ve never had to put so much thought into locations before, but I felt like those places feel real!

8.  I never show a flashback of Wrecker killing the freedom fighter because really, it’s unnecessary. He killed someone in what was basically self defense, and situation where he could have died. But this “evil” warrior guilts over it. Seems like perhaps he’s not so bad…

9.  The Path or Road theme is a fave of mine: Wrecker truly thinks he can never leave this road, and when the chance comes he fails again. But that’s the thing about chances: You get more than you think.

10.                   Wrecker is very much an extention of my guilt, depression and complexes.

11.                   Stuff like Dread Pirate Mog’s Chest of the Deep (Dread Pirate being a Princess Bride reference, Mog a generated frog name) and the water producing sands of the Red Spotted desert (Red spotted frogs exist, thought it would be a cool visual) are inspired by the Star Wars method of easter eggs: Don’t give too much, just enough to inspire the imagination. How DID they get those things? What is the history? Who was Mog? A red spotted desert? I would be honored if someone ever wrote stories about those!

12.                   Amethysts, emeralds, sapphires… A la the Calamity box gems (but not the real ones)

13.                   Rome is of course the inspiration for Toad Tower! Lavish, beautiful, it’s hard not to like it! It feels glorious, but it hides a dark truth!

14.                   I especially enjoyed writing the contrasts: See, this Toad Tower looks better, and this Grime feels better, and looks better (no scars, no scary eyes, soft voice, golden armor) but as you will soon see, the Toad Tower we see in Amphibia might not be so bad in comparison. It’s all golden before it darkens into bronze.

15.                   Grime is… Complicated. Anakin Skywalker and Zuko are major inspirations. Grime’s tale is one of tragedy, of a fall from grace. His origin will likely induce tears, and he’s become arguably the most complicated character. All your understandable questions on how THIS nice guy is Grime will be answered soon.

16.                   Not Captain Grime, since this is 10 years earlier and he is 20 (we’ll get to why soon)

17.                   Bog only got worse every time I wrote him. He was only ever meant for a cameo or two, but his violent nature and effective use as a magnifying glass into the evil of the Toad Army and what could Grime become helped a lot!

18.                   Grime is eloquent, so that was fun to write! Getting in his head inspired a few nice sentences!

19.                   Mire’s crimes will be revealed soon enough; just know it’s a Sozin sort of situation, a la Avatar.

20.                   Crossroads are another theme: Big decisions happen every day, and we must make them. We can step closer to the light, or to the shadows. It’s our choice.

21.                   “We Are The Line” is my version of “This Is The Way” from “The Mandalorian”. It is the Toads motto, and their attempt to convince themselves that they are in the moral right for their totalitarian control of Amphibia.

22.                   Captain Muck (for Muck and Grime are synonyms of sorts) is the main villain of this story, and he is more important than he seems. He is the Ozai, the Palpatine of the story, and he is the abusive father that sets Grime on a dark path. Keep an eye out for him, his influence is massive on Grime. I hate him.

23.                   Note how even Grime kneels like a common solider. Muck is THE DICTATOR of Amphibia in every way, his iron grip stronger than anyone else’s.

24.                   A favorite note of mine is how the freedom fighters are addressed: By Grime, it is always in a positive or neutral light, since he believes in the possibility of peace and co-existence. By Muck and many other toads, it is as terrorists, monsters, those who wish to kill their families, their brothers and sisters. Enemies of the state. And Wrecker too sees them as freedom fighters, but that’s later.

25.                   For those curious: No frog had died since a massive massacre that nearly destroyed an entire town, which was Mire’s doing. Since then, Muck had tried to create an illusion of peace as he searched for the one thing that could give him control of Amphibia. Hence, the reason why this violent and disgusting toad had never killed a man… Yet.

26.                   Grime’s relationship with his father is complex: Differing philiosophies do not induce hate. In fact, Grime wants his father to be proud of him, perhaps his biggest motivation, alongside redeeming himself (that’s later) and creating peace between frogs and toads.

27.                   Grime sees Wrecker as a friend (more on THAT later), but Wrecker sees him only as a fellow person to disappoint, so he stays away.

28.                   “When do we start?” may seem an odd line for a guilty man, but the idea here is that Wrecker is so desperate for rest, he’d rather die bad now then fail once more. He truly believes there is no hope, that he has hit rock bottom. But hope can cut through, even in the darkest of times. He still has a chance.

29.                   Crossroads in plural… Because there is more than one chance for redemption.

30.                   Not all toads are bad; in fact, many of them are downright just brainwashed. Pugs is an example of how the lines of black and white are blurred. She really is a good toad.

31.                   Grime, like Wrecker, is constantly criticisizing himself. Grime has an ingrained shame and guilt complex, as well as a fear of failure and a need to be good. Both men share these traits. It’s how they deal with it that’s important. If you read the chapters, you’ll see how they mirror each other all the time.

32.                   Many clues hide in this and the other chapters as to the identity of The Wrecker. I wonder if anyone will know.

33.                   Like many of my protagonists, Wrecker struggles with the concept of his own existence. It is a pain I share: The need to prove there is a reason why you were born. Justifiyng your own life… Is a very lonely business.

34.                   Mellow is definitely my LEAST subtle name yet.

35.                   Re-write your own life. Your story may have had a bad beginning… But it does not mean it’s who you are. It’s who you choose to be that makes you who you are.

36.                   Wrecker is a good man, and not just because of the guilt he feels. But it does play a big part in his story: If he’s such an unfeeling monster, he wouldn’t regret his actions. Regret is the first step towards accepting you need to change.

37.                   Annie is based on my sister. So I love her very much. She is also inspired by Anne Boonchuy, hence the name.

38.                   Annie has many skills Anne has: She has the athleticism, the tennis skills, the energy, the optimism.

39.                   Annie’s big problem: She feels like she has to do something GREAT. She doesn’t realize she IS something great. She too, wants to justify her existence.

40.                   Leap was never intended to play such a big part. In fact, he too was going to be a bad father. But instead, he ended up playing a pillar to aspire to be for Wrecker and Annie, and despite his sacrifice, I feel that he didn’t know that it would kill the entire town. I feel a lot for him.

41.                   Liberty blue, for he strives for liberty.

42.                   Leap enjoys the smell of the farm, Wrecker doesn’t.

43.                   I love how Wrecker and Grime had parents who could not understand them, yet Annie did, which helps he be the moral compass of sorts. She knows what it’s like to be loved, so she loves in return.

44.                   Annie and Anne learned how to pay taxes.

45.                   Annie and Anne also love beetle jerky.

46.                   Nature Vs Technology: The Frogs have old weapons, old tactics, and they have nothing truly advanced. The toads have state of the art weapons. Armor vs rags

47.                   The Calamity Box. Yes. Yes indeed.

48.                   I loved writing all the little details and citizens of Marsh Pond! It was teeming with life!

49.                   Darius and Alexander are references to Alexander the Great and King Darius’ battle? You know, the whole ancient world theme.

50.                   Marsh Pond is part Arab village, part native American village, part medieval town, part renaissance Italy, part American farmland.

51.                   The Toads are sure that the Frogs want to destroy them, not noticing the irony that they guard their captain from little children and mothers.

52.                   Spyritys is literally the most dangerous of alcohols. Wrecker is trying to poison himself.

53.                   Shrek references in dialogue that is stuck together that Annie says is tight!

54.                   Wrecker, as I said, represents my guilt. My shame. My regrets. I haven’t killed anyone, but I am very self resentful and I search for redemption. I can only hope that… That this can help others to see that they too deserve to live. I still fight for that right. But… Maybe I’m not so bad too. Maybe…

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 49

The trip east was fairly quiet, at least concerning my companions. The super mutants, raiders, Gunners, and ferals that make up Boston’s populace were as violent as ever. Ada is formidable, despite her convictions that her defensive capabilities should be improved. Valentine saved Cait from a Gunner’s missile, which she repaid by blasting her way through a pack of ferals that took him by surprise.

“Your contract’s with Holmes, not me!” he scolded her.

“Yer boyfriend and that wicked sword of his are fuckin’ fine!” The last feral fell, “Damn shamblers give me the creeps. There, now we’re even, you and me.”

Valentine was puzzled, “Even?”

“For knockin’ me out o’ the way of that tattooed cretin’s missile. I keep tellin’ Holmes, I don’t like owin’ debt to anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Word of advice though, it’s bad manners to steal cigarettes off the guy you’re supposedly saving.”

Cait laughed, and tossed him the pack.

I decided that rather than attack General Atomics immediately, we should first stop by the Castle, as it was just south of the factory and the sun was already setting. We could rest and prepare, and alert the Minutemen to the Mechanist’s threat. As it turned out, the Minutemen were already aware of the hostile robots roaming the Commonwealth.

“General!” Ronnie Shaw greeted us as we entered, “Sure do have impeccable timing.”

That likely wasn’t a good sign. “Do I?”

“Just missed the Brotherhood vertibird dropping a messenger by our front door. Said their scouts had noticed you coming this way.” She held up a holotape, clearly annoyed if not offended that the Brotherhood would be spying on the area. “This is for you.”

I took the tape, labeled “For General Holmes Only” in block letters. “Before I deal with this, the reason I’m here is--”

“Robots.”

I blinked, “Yes.”

Shaw nodded, “Got word from Sanctuary, we’re scrambling reinforcements to every checkpoint and settlement near where they’ve been spotted. Can’t reinforce everywhere yet, spread us too thin, but we can at least bolster the known threat zones.”

“Ah. How did Sanctuary--”

“One of our provisioners was attacked, we let Sanctuary know. Then word came in from MacCready about robots at the Ironworks, and Colonel Garvey got right to work alerting everyone to keep an eye out for robots built from scrap terrorizing folks. Good commander, that Colonel of yours.”

I smiled, “I hope to justify his faith in me to be the same. We have a plan to find the person responsible for these robots. Ada,” I gestured to her, “believes that we will find some in the General Atomics factory north of here, and they might provide us with the information we need.”

“It’s a start at least.” Shaw glanced at the holotape in my hand, "Your quarters are as you left them."

I thanked her, and took the holotape to the quarters reserved for the General. My companions followed, Valentine because he was concerned, Cait because she was bored, and Ada because she had nowhere else to go. I played the tape on my Pip Boy.

 “This is Elder Maxson speaking to General Holmes. My reason for contacting you is two-fold. First, the situation between our organizations is reaching a breaking point. This truce cannot survive indefinitely. As I have no desire to declare war on the Minutemen, yet, I invite you to discuss the matter with me. Second, I have no doubt the Minutemen are aware of the hostile robots that have appeared in the Commonwealth. My Scribes have been unable to track their origin. You seem to have an uncanny ability to find that which is hidden. Therefore, I request your presence on the Prydwen to discuss the new threat to both Brotherhood and Minutemen forces in the Commonwealth, and to negotiate new terms between us to keep the peace. Bring your second and third in command with you, as a token of goodwill and to ensure that there is no miscommunication in the chain of command. I insist.”

The recording ended.

"If Maxson thinks you're delivering Danse on a silver platter," Valentine said, "he's flipped his lid."

"Having Preston and I there adds a level of security for Danse," I pointed out.

"Unless he wants to wipe out the whole Minutemen command at once."

"He knows the Castle's artillery would destroy the Prydwen at the first sign of foul play. I'll contact Sanctuary first thing in the morning and see if Danse can shed some insight on his former commander's intentions."

Danse and Preston’s reactions were as I expected when I told them about Maxson’s request.

“With all due respect, General,” Preston said over the radio, “what the fuck?”

“He is insistent that both you and the Lt. Colonel are present at the negotiations,” I said.

“No. There's--”

“Garvey,” Danse scolded, but Preston spoke over him.

“--no way this isn’t a trap!”

“With all three top ranking officers on board the Prydwen, Maxson is assured that the Minutemen will not strike at the Brotherhood,” Danse explained. “It’s a power play, a bit of arrogance perhaps, but it is not a trap. He will expect us to take precautions. If we do not contact the Minutemen after a set amount of time, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. If Liberty Prime takes one step outside the airport, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. Maxson will not risk his flagship being destroyed, especially not while he's still on it.”

I could hear Preston’s frown as he said, “I hate everything about this. This is not a good idea.”

“Good idea or not,” I said, “attending without you two will be taken as an insult, and could be the slim excuse Maxson needs to justify swift action.”

“Understood, General,” Danse said, ignoring Preston’s sigh, “We’ll meet you at the airport seventy-two hours from now.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

It was roughly a two day walk to the airport from the Castle, which gave us the day to investigate the General Atomics factory. We wasted no time; Ada wasn't certain what information we might find on the Mechanist's robots, if they were still in the factory, but it was the only lead we had and I had no intention of letting it slip through our grasp.

The Mechanist's robots were there, in greater strength than I'd expected. I was glad to have extra assistance. Cait barrelled through, recklessly but effectively blasting modified Mr. Handy's and eyebots out of the air while Ada's laser fire was a welcome addition to Valentine and my bullets against the robots on the ground.

Each eyebot was broadcasting a message:

 "Attention, people of the Commonwealth! I, the Mechanist, have come to bring about an age of peace. Do not be alarmed. These robots are your allies, your protectors, and they will not rest until the Commonwealth is saved. Together we will restore justice and bring about the dawn of a new age."

"Can't these things shut up!" Cait shouted.

"I think the Mechanist and I have very different definitions of the word 'saved,'" Valentine added.

"He can't actually mean any of that rot," Cait continued. "If he does, he's loony."

"Considering he built an army of scrapbots," Valentine grunted as his fight with what once may have been a protectron went to fisticuffs, "I'd say he's probably pretty nuts!"

Then the robobrain armored like a tank appeared. "Aim for the brain!" I shouted, dodging a swing of its tesla-coil arm. Ada and I fired as Cait and Valentine did their best to keep the other robots still standing occupied.

With a shudder and a crackle of electricity across its surface, the robobrain fell. Tense silence settled. When it was clear no more robots would be coming around any corners, we relaxed.

"What the hell is that thing?" Cait asked.

"It's called a robobrain," I said, "though I've never seen one so weaponized before." I'd only ever seen them inside the Vault near Far Harbor, and those were much smaller compared to this one.

She stepped closer, "Is that… is that a person's brain in there?"

I nodded, "It is."

"That's disgustin'."

"I agree."

“According to my data banks,” Ada said, “the robobrain was considered one of the most technologically superior robots ever constructed, but the model never reached full production status.”

"Wonder where this one came from," Valentine said.

Cait huffed, already bored by the conversation, "So how're we going to find the Mechanist with these heaps of junk?"

"We look for clues," I said, and got to work.

Ada, Valentine, and I searched the robots while Cait paced the room.

Valentine whispered to me, "Holmes, that woman has more psycho in her than is healthy."

"There's a healthy dosage of psycho?"

"You know what I mean. She took a hit, took a stimpak after snapping her arm back in place, and then took a second psycho for good measure. I'm amazed her heart hasn't exploded."

I sighed, "There's nothing I can do about it now, and I doubt she'll welcome conversation, especially with the state she's in."

"The crash ain't gonna be great either."

"What do you want me to do?"

He was quiet a moment, shaking his head. "I don't know. She's done her job so far, I'll give her that much, but she's gonna fall apart soon.”

"Are you detectives looking or flirting?" Cait shouted from across the room. "Hell of a lot more quiet chat than discovery goin' on."

"Jealous?" Valentine called back.

"Of you?"

“Enough,” I interrupted. “Ada, any luck?”

“I have not yet discovered a significant indicator of origin,” Ada reported.

“I’m going to look over the robobrain again,” Valentine said.

I approached Cait. “Valentine tells me you were injured?”

She was offended, “Stimpak patched me up just fine.”

“Good. And are you supplied for the trip north?”

"What?"

“Hey, Ada,” Valentine said, “My robot anatomy is a little rusty, but does this look like something interesting?”

He held up a device, which Ada examined. “Impressive technology. If my analysis is correct, this is a specialized radar beacon. I suspect it's how the Mechanist was keeping track of the robobrain. Thank you, Mr. Valentine, this may be exactly what we needed.” Ada turned to me, “As the next logical step, I need you to install this beacon within me so we can use it to our advantage.”

“Install it?” I admit, I balked at the prospect. Modifying weapons and armor, even building traps and turrets were one thing. Installing a radar beacon into a sophisticated robot seemed to be something else entirely.

“You'll need to use a robot workbench to ensure proper installation,” Ada explained. “I have the schematics. Do you want to return to the Castle to build it?”

“No,” I said, “not the Castle. There is an engineer out west who would be just the man for the job, and the location far enough away from the Brotherhood’s patrols to avoid attention.”

We decided that Valentine and Ada would leave for Sanctuary and tell Sturges about the robot workbench Ada’s creator invented, while Cait and I would make our way north to meet Danse and Preston at the airport. Valentine wasn’t thrilled with the plan, but he didn’t have a better suggestion, either.

I had already told Ms. Shaw about my meeting with Maxson before we left. As Danse suggested, I gave her explicit instructions for action to take should anything seem amiss. And so Cait and I started the walk north to the Prydwen.

[cienie-isengardu]

Darth Vader and the violence against imperial low-ranking soldiers (Old Trilogy)

I have habit of re-reading star wars comics & books, mainly focusing on Darth Vader. I have quite clear idea of his character, shaped by various sources AND my own thinking & analyzing made over the years.

One of the things that never sit well with me is idea of Vader using violence against low-ranking soldiers for no fair reason.

Don’t get me wrong, Vader killed a lot of imperial soldiers, there is no deny of that. Either he sent them on very dangerous - sometimes simple suicide - missions without regard for their life or because “there was no mercy for failure among the Imperial military”. Vader was the ultimate executor of those who either betrayed Empire or were incompetent. Looking how the whole Imperial Army became corrupted, how so many people put their own ambitions and gains over the welfare of the Empire, Vader’s ruthless presence was essential to keep the whole military in check.

And Dark Lord of the Sith was effective at his job, to the point that some characters - like bounty hunter Dengar - thought about him as a really busy man, who “had his own political agenda, men to command, an Empire to run“.

As much as Vader lacked patience for fools and tolerance for failures - what usually resulted in someone’s death or at least force-choking - in the movies alone he never punished or threatened imperial low-ranking soldiers. All the verbal & physical violence was directed at officers, especially those with high status. At admiral Motti, for being disrespectful for Vader’s belief about Force, at admiral Ozzel for incompetence, at captain Needa, for too hasty reporting success (catching Millennium Falcon) that turned out to be failure, at just-promoted-to-admiral Piett - if he failed him again. At Director of the Advanced Weapons Research, Orson Krennic, for being more focused at competing with Tarkin rather than performing a recommended task. But common troopers? Nope.

Frankly, the Old Trilogy gave us very noticeable contrast in Vader’s behaviour that always depended on with whom he worked. The undertone of famous scene during Imperial Meeting in ANH was much different than, let say, boarding Leia’s ship. For better analyze, here a short summary.

In A NEW HOPE:

After stormtroopers took over the rebel ship, the first thing Vader did was looking for enough alive rebeliant to interrogate. The few who fell in the first phase of imperial attack were dead, Vader didn’t say anything, just moved on. Stormtroopers went with him.

Next scene, Vader personally interrogated Antilles after his trooper reported that “The Death Star plans are not in the main computer”. Not satisfied with rebel’s lack of cooperation, Vader ordered “Commander, tear this ship apart until you've found those plans, and bring me the passengers! I want them alive!” He sounded angry (then again, the man can’t say a word without being terrifying) but there was no threat what will happen to stormtroopers if they will not find the plans. They didn’t, as far as we know, no imperial soldier died in result.

Stormtrooper captured instead Leia, Vader had no patience for her lies and imprisoned her. Commander Daine Jir* pointed out flaws in Sith’s plan. No violence against him or against commander Praji*, who reported “Lord Vader, the battle station plans are not aboard this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but no life-forms were aboard.”  Vader’s final words in that scene, “There'll be no one to stop us this time” sounds not only confident about the future; the use of “us” is an interesting choice of words. No stop “me” or “Emperor’s plans” or Empire as a whole. Us. Vader referred to himself AND his troopers who hunted those rebels (and plans of Death Star) for a while.

During meeting with the most important Imperials on Death Star, minute or two after showing up with Tarkin, Vader was force choking Motti while saying the famous “I find your lack of faith disturbing”. If Motti didn’t act so arrogant, Vader wouldn’t feel obligated to prove him wrong. There is visible contrast between Vader on battlefield (surrounded by his own soldiers) and Vader surrounded by high-ranking officers. The Dark Lord of the Sith is one of the most powerful being in Empire yet he is “outsider” during the meeting. There is no place at table for him, he isn’t part of military nor government the way Motti, Tagge or Tarkin were.

During battle of Yavin, Lieutenant Tanbris* informed “We count 30 rebel ships, Lord Vader, but they're so small, they're evading our turbolasers.” Vader’s reaction? “We'll have to destroy them ship to ship. Get the crews to their fighters.” Once again, Vader used plural “we”; he was going to join his troopers in fight against rebels. [Side note, since Tanbris is part of Vader’s own crew, it makes sense he went straight to his boss, not to any official commander of Death Star. Then again, the 501st Legion wasn’t personally responsible for protecting battle station but Vader involved himself in fight on his own because no imperial high ranking officer - be it Tarkin or Motti - either didn’t think about using TIE fighters or were too arrogant to believe rebel attack may be dangerous to them]

Vader met two imperial pilots on his way to his personal TIE. He calmly told them “Several fighters have broken off from the main group. Come with me.” Not much emotions, no threats what will happen if they fail him. During fight, he only told them to cover him while he is dealing with rebels.

So, in ANH we have one a bit force-choked admiral, no threats against low ranking stormtroopers or imperial pilots. Vader doesn’t have patience for Motti’s arrogance & bullshit, but he doesn’t mind Jir’s insight and is one of few imperial high-ranking officers who takes part in dangerous fights against enemy. Vader doesn’t speak much with other high-ranked officers (beside Tarkin) and in final battle he doesn’t just sent people on front line - he personally take action to secure Empire’s victory (and if not for Han Solo, he could succeed) while Tarkin, underestimating enemy, put faith in superiority of the Death Star.

In The Empire Strikes Back, Vader’s status in imperial army changed. Until now he operated outside of military hierarchy and though he was always the second-in-command of Empire, now he was officially titled as Supreme Commander. Also, Vader already knew Luke is his son and became obsessed with finding / capturing him. The idea of having son at his side, made Vader closer to idea of overthrowing his master and thus “tread on thin ice”. Because of the “promotion” to official Supreme Commander, for understable reasons, we see Vader more around officers than stormtroopers. Still in TESB:

the first man killed by Darth Vader was admiral Ozzel. Reason? Incompetence. Even then Vader’s line “you failed me for the last time” indicates that it wasn’t the first mistake that Ozzel made. Unfortunately for the imperial officer - due to his obsession with finding Luke - Vader lost patience more quickly than usual. (General Veers tried excused admiral’s mistake but Vader didn’t punish him in any way for speaking on behalf of another officer who clearly never was favored by Sith Lord; captain Piett get promotion)

The Rebel Base was under attack; though in the movie alone we didn’t see Vader in battle action (not like in Star Wars Battlefront), it’s clear he joined troopers at some point and went into  Rebel Base before that was secured.

Later, Vader sent pilots after Millennium Falcon that hides in asteroid field which is like, the most(?) obviously cruel thing he did to common troopers, as far as movies showed. Then again, ANH already proved how high ranking Imperials do not care for people in general and Vader lack of care for wellbeing of subordinates does not stand out that much from “imperial norm”. What I mean, we still did not see him tormenting troopers for fun or act out anger by hurting them but using available forces in military operation that was important to Empire (and Vader’s wish to save find son). This does not excuse the callousness of Vader’s decisions but there is no malice towards troopers per se. He is doing what imperial officers would do - use troopers to archive victory for the glory of Empire.

Still, Vader does not mind use bounty hunters and mercenaries to do the dangerous job. Something that does not always sits well with imperial officers (Piett). If Vader could hear or feel in the Force admiral’s complain, he did not show any anger or care for it.

Captain Needa was second victim of Vader. This one death seems like unnecessary violence, especially since the officer was presented quite as honorable man (willing to take all blame on himself). But Needa reported capturing enemy’s ship that turned out to be not truth and was killed in result. No mercy for failure, after all. Still, no man under his command was put in harm way, as far as we know.

Later Vader was busy on Bespin, with the torturing Han Solo and fight with son. When once again Millennium Falcon run away (and the supposed ), the face of admiral Piett makes it clear, the man was painfully aware he failed. Yet Vader did not kill  nor threaten him in any way. Maybe Piett was to some degree liked by Darth Vader (he chose him after all) or maybe Piett was truly lucky man cause the Sith was too busy with his emotional/family conflict to care. Piett survived and was once again seen in RotJ.

Return of the Jedi puts once again Vader in different perspective. This time the focus on Sith does not involve much military matters, now his story resolve about personal conflicts; duty vs desire, master vs son and so on. Of course, we still can see Vader working well with admiral Piett or warning / threatening Moff about delays in construction of Death Star but he had no chance to take active part in combat like in previous movies.

So, in the Old Trilogy there is not much hints Vader used physical or verbal violence against low-ranking soldiers. He was willing to sacrifice their life for “greater good” of Empire (or his own plans) but as far as movies shows, he did not force choke them for mistakes or talking back, like he did to Motti or director Krennic in Rogue One. And this shapes a lot of my thoughts about Vader, his relationship with other imperials and how he fit - or not - the imperial norms.

Of course, comics and books presents the matter in various ways but this is something for another meta(s). A meta(s) I hope to write in nearest future. For now, remember that the higher in rank someone is, the more critical, judgmental and strict Vader became.

* the names of imperial soldiers comes from additonal sources.

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden: Chapter 13

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by buying the official releases here.

← Previous || Index || Next →

Violet Evergarden

The railway that parted from the southern maritime country Leidenschaftlich finally being extended to northern nations was something quite recent.

Public means of transportation were rather useful for traveling around a wide continent, yet the trains across the mainland contributed greatly not only to each person but also to society in terms of logistics. It could be said that the current results had been achieved due to the North-South feud of the Continental War being terminated on a superficial basis.

The information that a ceremony would be held for the departure of the intercontinental train spread quickly in the city of Leiden, and people rushed in pursue of tickets for the first trip. On the following day, the morning newspaper prior to the departure ceremony – which was completely taken over by the latter – was made to be delivered not only throughout Leidenschaftlich but also to the neighbor countries.

Although it was a trivial article for those who were not interested in the subject, the appearance of a single woman amongst the published photographs of people seeking the tickets instigated, for better or worse, a surreptitious feeling in those who knew her. Lux Sibyl, who would be at the CH Postal Service first-thing in the morning, smiled proudly upon spotting the figure of her beautiful friend. A novelist who quietly recited words in the middle of the mountains was in high spirits as though he had found a treasure amidst the article’s photos, and laid it as decoration on his cutouts wall. A young astronomer on the way of a journey bought two more copies of the same newspaper after a moment of astonishment, and Cattleya, who was on an amanuensis duty at a place far away from the office, asked her male client, with the newspaper at hand, who the cutest one was between herself and the woman displayed in it. Someone who had not seen her face for a long time surrendered himself to tracing it with his fingertips.

It was only a picture, but on the morning of that day, a premonition that something special was about to begin was engraved remarkably in the minds of those who had been involved with Violet Evergarden.

The departure ceremony was held in the Leidenschaftlich Station at two o’clock in the afternoon, and at three o’clock, after the passengers had come aboard the intercontinental train, it left the city by the end of the formalities. Children riding a train for the first time leaned their bodies forward over the windows and praised the scenery, proudly boasting to each other about the good fortune of managing to entrain the first expedition. Those using it for work-related transferences were satisfied with the careful customer service and safe driving, and those who had booked the sleeper cars had their hearts stolen by the comfort as their bodies immediately embraced the drowsiness.

The operation went on without a hitch in general. Minor troubles were witnessed, such as the employees in charge of transporting baggage sending a passenger’s luggage to the wrong room, or a customer from one of the dining cars who had ordered a dish without onions finding a small piece of onion in it and getting angry, but they were nothing that could be considered important.

The passing scenery outside the windows was gradually dyed in madder red, and just an hour after the departure, the world began to be surrounded by signs of the night. Once every hour, the train was required to be refilled with water.

“We will soon temporarily stop at the water supply point, so please sit down as the train will shake.” The porter advised the customers of each car.

As people were completely fascinated with the tour, they did not attempt to impede those who remained on their feet without any intention of sitting down. There were also many who observed the scenery while sipping alcoholic drinks. Those in a good mood did not listen to what others said.

The porter, who had given the warning, smiled while thinking along the lines of “what troublesome patrons” as he gently walked next to said passengers and asked them to take their seats.

It was an exceptionally wonderful voyage. Nobody imagined any tragedies would happen. Nor did anyone find the behavior of those individuals suspicious. The fact that they stuck a knife to the porter’s neck and slit it went unnoticed as well.

That day was genuinely supposed to be a marvelous one for several people.

At two quarters past four o’clock, under the thick clouds spreading in an autumn sky, a corpse was discarded on the railroad track as if it were dirt. It rolled onto the ground, and, before the crows could greedily devour it, it was found by the owner of a nearby meadow, who happened to be passing by. Much like rain pouring onto the surface of a lake, such thing hinted the extent of some sort of big incident. The first drop was the dead body. One, two more drops fell from the sky, which marked the discovery of a problem that was now progressively growing.

The abnormal demeanor of the intercontinental train, which had originally been supposed to make stops yet was passing every station while keeping the passengers on board, caught quite a bit of attention, and at some point, the army was mobilized. First came a report from employees and civilians from one of the stations that were passed by, and the message was relayed to the military police.

The military police based itself mainly on law enforcement duty to protect the safety of the citizens’ everyday lives, and was a separate entity from the army, despite having the word “military” in its name. By the time the military police had arrived at the Leidenschaftlich Army Ministry, a reinforce request for the situation had been issued from the Leidenschaftlich National Railway as well.

The headquarters of the Leidenschaftlich Army Ministry were, in one word, a fort. For a mere building, it had a hardly describable architecture. Firstly, there was a castle tower-like construction that housed the Army Ministry, with double stonewalls surrounding it. There was a dry moat outside of the walls, and the trees and shrubs beyond said moat had been entirely cut down in order to open the view. There was no place for foes to hide in case of invasions. The structure already seemed to intimidate with an unsaid “if you want to defeat me, come try”.

Being able to bask in a constitution that was so well-attuned to hostility was likely a proof that its soldiers had overcome numerous aggressive wars. In such setting, by courtesy of the country’s system, the reinforcement request project, “Case of the Intercontinental Train’s Hijacking”, was set to be launched at the Army Ministry on an early stage, but the recruited officers were not yet aware of the extent of the chaotic rain’s dispersion.

At twenty minutes past five o’clock of that day, in one of the Army Ministry’s rooms, Gilbert Bougainvillea was discussing the course of action of Leidenschaftlich’s army’s Special Offense Force, which he used to lead.

“Disbanding would be reasonable, but if it is to be handed over, I would like to be the one to choose the personnel.”

Gilbert Bougainvillea, who used to be a major of Leidenschaftlich’s army, had equitably served as lieutenant-colonel, and, in recognition of the achievements in the Great War from the Special Offense Force of Leidenschaftlich’s army, then led by himself, yet another position promotion was acknowledged and he was allowed to wear the rank insignia of colonel. After becoming a colonel, operating inside the Army Ministry was basically his main task. The way it was, his troop had been on march both inside and outside of the country, since the circumstances had required post-war armed interventions, yet it was left afloat as a result of his successive career.

“It’s my honest opinion that disbanding it is regrettable. There are members who want to resign from it due to being promoted, but even with those posts vacant, it has a high level of excellence. To the point it can very well work as an independent unit. Well, the higher-ups probably won’t allow that so easily... since they might think of it as your private soldiers.” A bluish black-haired man agreed with Gilbert’s words. “Laurus Schwartzman” was written in the nameplate on his desk.

Gilbert nodded at the outlook of the person who had the same status of colonel as himself but used to be in the position of his superior in the past. “Eventually, we could create this independent unit... From the viewpoint of those who are managing it, a unit that has too much freedom is dangerous, but it spends great efforts when there are big emergencies. However, if we are told that there have been none of those until now, we will not be granted consent. Therefore, I would like to leave a foundation ready for the sake of this occurrence... and, if I am to pass it down to someone else, I want a person who puts everyone’s individual qualities into consideration to take over it. The members were mostly polished by being brought into my personal care, after all.”

“Who do you intend to appoint as successor?”

“Idris. He’s fit for being commander.”

“Isn’t he a fellow without education or supporters? It’s almost like me. Won’t you recommend someone from the Bougainvillea lineage? There ought to be people in the army who are from your branch families.”

“Colonel Laurus... you recommended me because you dislike faction-based nominations, yet now you’re telling me to nominate a Bougainvillea? Idris is clever even without education. He’s also vastly ambitious. As for supporters... I can become one.”

“I was just teasing; don’t get so angry.” At Gilbert’s low voice tone, Laurus soon laughed and apologized. As he became older, Gilbert had come to possess a presence that he did not in his younger days.

“Well, then, regarding the placement of a successor in my troops... I will count with your assistance for the necessary arrangements.”

“And my recompense will be...?”

“My little sister has said she wants to ride a horse with you in our next outing.”

Laurus showed a pleased reaction and Gilbert sighed a little, his shoulders slumping as if a weight had fallen upon them.

Gilbert’s position in the army appeared stable, but it was not so in reality. Although there were people who supported him simply for being a Bougainvillea, there were also those who attempted to ostracize him for it. Gilbert had reached a period in which he would have to decide whom he would take as his allies. Jealousy and corruption always rose wherever there was influence. Gradually gathering into his hands those people who were so hard for him to become like and securing them tightly under his arms was something necessary for Gilbert as of late.

Laurus was someone whose back he had used to observe as if chasing after it when he had joined the army, and now Gilbert was finally side-by-side with him. There were very few who could manage through the promotion from colonel to brigadier-general and from brigadier-general to major-general. As Laurus himself did not display interest in being promoted, Gilbert believed he would not go above being a colonel. His origins, unlike Gilbert’s, did not leave him in an advantageous condition for disputing success, either.

“This is up to the two of you, but please don’t ever upset my sister, since she deeply cherishes you. Promise me.”

“I know she does. She confessed her love for a guy like me, after all. I intend to be with her even in my grave.”

He displayed no signs of looking for competition and his nature could be trusted. For Gilbert to think he could leave his sister to the latter’s care, he had to be a commendable individual.

Upon easing the wrinkles between his brows with the fingertips of his left arm, which had become a prosthetic, Gilbert took in his hand a newspaper unrelated to work that was lying on the desk. Ever since he had read it in the morning after waking up, he had carried it around with him while on-duty. He subconsciously looked at the part of it that had photos of the intercontinental train.

“You’ve... been reading that since morning, huh. You like trains?”

“If there comes a chance to get on a tour ride, I want to try it.” With gestures that could not be perceived as unnatural, he folded the side with the pictures and put the newspaper down.

The two men had been in a situation in which even Laurus had come to question why Gilbert had abandoned the Warrior Maiden of Leidenschaftlich’s army in the aftermath of the Great War, and therefore, he did not wish to get into the topic. As they chatted about trivial everyday matters, someone knocked on the door.

“Colonel Schwartzman... ah, Colonel Bougainvillea, you’re here in a good timing. We are having an emergency meeting. A big incident has happened. The case has been established at the countermeasures headquarters, so please come quickly. Right now, we are summoning all the personnel from the task force.”

Being told so by the administrative official, the two looked at each other’s faces and stood up at the same time.

Those who gathered at the headquarters, in which a roundtable was prepared, were mainly colonels. The occurring incident would be explained by the major-general beforehand.

“First and foremost, at two in the afternoon, a departure ceremony was held in honor of the intercontinental train, and one hour later, the passengers came on board and it left the station. It passed by Attaccare, which was one of it stop stations, and proceeded just like that. It was also at this time that a corpse was thrown off in the vicinity of Attaccare. The body was found and reported by a farmer of that neighborhood. According to the information of the Leidenschaftlich’s National Railway, the train is currently stopping at the Rauschend station, which is one of the water supply points. A demand for reward in exchange for the passengers was issued to Leidenschaftlich through the station’s staff.” While everyone paid attention to him, the major-general said bitingly, “The enemy is telling us to release a political felon who is being kept in the Altair Prison. He’s a criminal from one of the countries that had formed an alliance in the previous war, Rohand. After the proclamation of their defeat, he blackmailed his motherland’s leaders into revoking the announcement, caused an internal conflict and was arrested. The ones responsible for this hijacking incident are maybe his guard dogs, certainly his comrades. Meaning the main offenders of this case are people who still don’t want to acknowledge that they lost the war.”

A feeling of tension ran through the place as the major-general recognized the other party as an ‘enemy’. In Leidenschaftlich, ‘enemies’ brought harm to the whole nation. They would all become targets of elimination, and most of them counted with military power as their means of control, unwilling to solve anything with dialogue.

“To top it off, the enemies hope to migrate to their country. The train is headed to a port at north of the continent. They have a ship prepared there as well. It seems they expect everything to go flawlessly...” The major-general punched the north part of the map laid on the roundtable.

The people seated at the roundtable did not move even upon being startled, and their line of sight was fixed on the major-general. They accepted the anger emanating from him.

“We... we of Leidenschaftlich’s army... exist for the sake of defending our people and territory from foreign threats. To allow something like this after ending a war is a disgrace to Leidenschaflich’s name. But this is not just a matter of honor. There have already been casualties. This is quite an obvious statement, but it’s clear that our country’s people will be taken throughout this trip until the migration succeeds. There are surely women and children who can’t fight back in that midst. It’s not hard to imagine what they’ll go through. We must prevent this no matter what. The ‘enemy’ is moving. The problem is how to take the reins. We shall form a strategy considering the hypothesis of even worst-case scenarios. From this point on, I give everyone, regardless of them being upper or lower ranks, permission for voicing suggestions.”

At the major-general’s words, everyone started composing tactics while observing the map. The train was in motion. If they were to strike it, their only option would be invading it. Attacking from the outside would compromise the lives of the passengers inside. The opinion that there was no choice but stand in wait for it at one of the water supply points and ambush it all at once was settled down no matter what. But the enemy would probably anticipate that much. The concern that a hostage could be killed for display just so the criminals’ passage would be permitted was enunciated, as well as the fact the passengers would be in tantalizing circumstances, as they would not be able to do anything until the train stopped at the water supply point. They sought for urgent contact.

The debate became heated. Amidst it, only Gilbert was reticent as he paled in silence. His ears registered everyone’s exchanges. He was also formulating in his head what proposals he should verbalize, as doing so might be necessary. However, a single fact dominated his entire body and halted its outward functions.

——Violet is on board.

There was no way he could have mistaken her figure as he spotted her in a photography of people trying to buy tickets for the first trip. It was extremely natural for an Auto-Memories Doll traveling around the world to rely on trains. Meaning there would be no one else to be aboard the intercontinental train in her stead.

——If I called Hodgins, would he answer?

He had judged Gilbert for leaving Violet without a trace. In their last conversation, he had said he would be cutting their ties until Gilbert reconsidered it.

“Gilbert...? You’re... quiet, but don’t you have any ideas?”

As Laurus spoke to him from the side, Gilbert turned towards his direction. He was probably making a face that he normally would not. Laurus leaned back with a start.

The major-general promptly noticed it. “What’s wrong, Laurus? Don’t hold back in giving your suggestion.”

“No... I... right, I agree with the ambush at the water supply point. It will be off-the-cuff from the garrison on the railway, but I think we can’t do anything other than prepare the troops and stand in wait... I believe that organizing a plan and personnel that can back us up during a seizure battle after the waiting is most crucial. The fact that stopping at the water supply points is mandatory for the train is its trait, after all.” Once Laurus had uttered his proposition, perhaps due to thinking Gilbert was feeling sick, he asked the latter in a low tone, “You okay?”

Gilbert nodded without saying anything. As the major-general requested his opinion as well, Gilbert settled for saying, “I approve the flow of the current situation’s discussion.”

Since he was worried about Violet’s and the passengers’ safety, Gilbert favored the course of action of a short-term decisive battle.

——Still, it is only a matter of time for an antagonistic view to manifest. Just as he thought so, what Gilbert dreaded soon became a reality.

“I sense an incongruence in this trend. To ensure the success of our scheme, wouldn’t it be better to formulate a plan for us to take control of the train at the last station in that northern port?” After Laurus and Gilbert had expressed their valuations, a colonel who had been solely observing, much like Gilbert until that point, raised his voice.

“Ahmar, when you object, you have to explain your plan in detail.” The major-general urged colonel Ahmar to speak further.

Laurus had an obviously unamused face on. Bearded and enormous, the man named Ahmar was on par with him, but the two of them were like cats and dogs. The people present were aware that the fact Ahmar had not voiced his own suggestions until then was due to wanting to oppose Laurus. The air became heavier.

“This opinion was given just a bit ago, but if we target them at the water supply point and end up letting them pass, the number of deaths would go up, right? The perpetrators would kill hostages for revenge, and their demands towards us would be bound to increase. In that meantime, I can already see that they would use a ransom for their requisitions. If that will be the case, making the other party think that things will proceed as they requested and then taking them down at once is a better idea. I’m sorry for regressing the discussion, but if this is an emergency, I believe we should choose an assured plan.”

“No! If you think about the citizens, we should act immediately! How do you think the people in that train are feeling right now? Are you saying that while knowing how long it takes to reach the last station?! Their families, too, want the army to do something as soon as possible!”

“Laurus, you always show off your principles with emotion-oriented arguments, but that’s unnecessary for a strategy. Results are everything, and we can elaborate the process later on. Are you giving those suggestions by picturing the aftermath of the aftermath? There have already been casualties, and for the sake of causing no more of them, we’ve no choice other than have the passengers endure it.”

The subject of the meeting was split into two sides: Laurus, who thought about the citizens’ rescue before anything else, and Ahmar, who prioritized bringing the situation under control.

Gilbert, who was silent beside Laurus, could even feel his restless heart sort out in the course of events. Rather than agitation, his impatience to do something about the direction that things were taking, which was not the one he wanted, was becoming stronger. Gilbert could not consent to Ahmar’s methods.

It was difficult to imagine that Violet Evergarden would tamely ride all the way to the final station. She would likely take some sort of action. The fact that she was on board enthused not only great hopes but also a sense of unease.

——If she’s on her own, it’s evident that she will be reckless.

She was not the kind of young woman who would not use self-defense were she in a situation that required it. Gilbert had disciplined her that way.

——I must go for her aid. I must protect her. It’s precisely because she’s strong that she...

It would mean taking back his resolve of that day, in which he had shed tears while making the decision to part ways with her. Should she find out he was still alive, Violet would definitely attempt to become Gilbert’s tool once more. That was his biggest fear.

——I don’t want... to see the one I love acting as a tool ever again.

Gilbert asked himself – in the current circumstances, what was the man named Gilbert Bougainvillea most afraid of?

——Violet’s death.

Gilbert asked himself – in the current circumstances, what did he wish for the most?

——Her safety.

Peeking into his heart’s discords, what he had to do was crystal-clear.

——Is this... also fate?

Gilbert closed his eye once. He evened his breathing. The face of the girl he had forsaken resurfaced in his mind. So did her appearance from that picture, which showed she had grown up a good deal curing the meantime they had not seen each other.

He had spent many efforts until managing to secure that position. The next one he would aim for was the seat of major-general. The farther up he climbed, the more he would be able to do in exchange of his free conduct being restricted.

At that moment, while such an incident was going on, he could feel God’s guidance yet again. He had become distressed when worrying about Violet, but could clearly understand what he had to do upon reasoning calmly.

——What are you living for? Don’t get worked-up.

Slowly, slowly, he opened his adhered eyelid.

——I’ve chosen a path in which I’d be able to walk at times like these. The time has come. That is all.

“May I... offer my suggestion?”

No wavering remained in his emerald-green orb. He stared at the major-general and everyone at the round table with his eye open. He knew what conduct he should take even without thinking about it.

“I have an idea.” His voice was neither too loud nor too low. “Firstly, about dispatching soldiers to the garrison located on the train’s route... I agree with it. We simply must not let it go to the North. Should it, by any chance, reach the sea, the navy will be the one to deal with it. I will talk to my older brother, Dietfriet Bougainvillea. As the Major-General has said, we should move while keeping the worst possible scenario in mind.”

It was important to speak with a calm attitude.

“About the current problem of where the dispatched soldiers should engage, I am against a battle at the final station. Should the place turn into a battlefield, emotion-based issues with the northern side will be involved. Those people are heroes from the North’s viewpoint. Showing them being purged in northern lands – their own home – would become a great display, but we should expect that it would instigate a shock big enough to cause an incident. Right now, they are showing a well-behaved attitude towards the Southeast regarding the release of their military forces, but they will definitely hold a grudge against this.”

“We shouldn’t be discussing such a thing now!”

Gilbert responded level-headedly to Ahmar’s angry roar, “The one who talked about picturing the aftermath of the aftermath, Colonel, was you.”

“You... have some nerve to be using such rude words with me, given that you became a colonel just recently...”

“The Major-General stated from the very start that we should give our suggestions freely. Are you against the Major-General’s decision?”

As their superior was cited, Ahmar refused to back off with a “no way”, his face becoming bright red.

Just as Ahmar had done with Laurus, Gilbert laid out a protest, “Please allow me to continue explaining my idea. There is no guarantee that the damage is limited only to the passengers. It is necessary to evacuate all of the stations along the train’s course and the citizens in their proximities as well. Paired to the ambush attack at the water supply point, I propose an infiltration plan by tailing them from the capitol Leiden.” He stated loudly with a manner of speech that had a touch of composure and elegance.

People judged others mostly through vision and hearing. Taking such conduct would make them think, “what this man says is worth listening to”.

“‘Infiltration plan’, you say? Will we make it in time if we start chasing them now?”

Gilbert retorted Ahmar’s mockery without so much as raising a brow, “I will have the Nighthawks take flight.”

“Even if the train is on a stop now, it will eventually move!”

The one who became emotional would lose.

“Even if it does, it will stop again. To replenish water. If the infiltration turns out successful, it will greatly increase the accomplishment rate of the estimated suppression at the water supply point. Rescuing the passengers is a top priority. The more time this hijacking case takes, the more the death toll will rise. Both the criminals’ side and the victims’ side are losing their sanity. You shall know whether or not the Nighthawks will make it in time if you leave it to me. Let us mobilize the Leidenschaftlich Special Offense Force. Of course, I will be the one in command.”

There was a stir. He examined the major-general’s complexion, but the latter did not find fault in his proposal.

Not letting the flow slip away from him, Gilbert resumed speaking, “Just a while ago, there was a remark about how we must prepare personnel specific for this sort of situation, but everyone, have you forgotten? The Leidenschaftlich Special Offense Force has been widely active as a raid unit since wartime. They clearly have the role disposition necessary for the process of an infiltration with a small number of people. If we are told to move now, we can act immediately. Although there may be opinions that I should not be the one commanding on-site given my rank, the troops are still in my care, and my status is of recently-nominated colonel. I shall prove my effectiveness. Please think of me as a board piece. A board piece that will mobilize the navy, and, if everything goes well, fulfill the infiltration which will bring a quick resolution to this. If my troops fail, the ones lying in wait will be the dispatched soldiers of Leidenschaftlich’s army. I find it extremely hard to believe that this incident merely stems from the North’s revenge. There must be... something else happening behind the scenes. There is not only one trap. I feel that... they are seeking for a devastating win, for which they have yet another scheme that we would not be able to crush along with the twofold and threefold traps they have laid out.” After pausing once to swallow saliva, Gilbert inquired, “Major-General, what do you say? I wish you would let me do it.” He pleaded, yet the right to decide was not his. Maintaining his posture, he pleaded even more with his eyes and approach.

Gilbert was aware. From an early age, he had always understood how he should behave in front of whom whenever he was in the presence of others. Were he to make a mistake, admonition would come flying at him. That was the secret for triumph in order to live as a Bougainvillea. Depending on the attitudes he took, he knew what his opponent’s outcome might be. Within the world he understood, he currently existed for the sake of the one and only person that he once did not know he loved.

“Well, give it a try. Demonstrate your abilities as a board piece.”

“I will definitely show you satisfying results.” While replying, Gilbert had already created a different strategy.

If there was something that could have been considered a brilliant day in the life of Samuel LaBeouf, it would be today. He had been elected head engineer of the frontal engine room of the first intercontinental train, which would remain in the country’s history. One had to wonder how many kisses of joy he had planted on the polished, black car walls. He had boasted about it to his family and friends countless times. The people who knew of his efforts praised him sincerely and saw off the first service with a smile. Initially, Samuel had planned to spend his time humming a tune while journeying around the world as the Sun set, replaying that wonderful day in his head.

“The substitutes... still haven’t arrived?”                                         

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...!”

It was exactly six hours and forty-three minutes into the evening. Samuel had a gun thrust at his neck from behind. The unmoving body of one of his colleague engineer and assistant lay at his feet, head hanging loosely. Said person, who had greeted and chatted with him on that very day, was now immobile. The train which tale had only just started and which name would be engraved in history had suddenly been hijacked and occupied by criminals.

——Why... Why... did it come to this? What did I even do?

When exposed to a cruel fate, people would mostly have similar thoughts. Firstly, they would bemoan their doom.

——Where and what did I do wrong?

Then, they would trace in their brains the way back to when they were struck by misfortune. The time in which the intercontinental train that Samuel had been supposed to drive had left the station of Leidenschaftlich’s capitol city, Leiden, after the departure ceremony was over had been a while before dusk.

The intercontinental train, so-called “Femme Fatale”, was a full thirteen-car train composed of Locomotive 1, 2 and 3, Single-Room Sleeping Car 1 and 2, Simple Sleeping Car 1 and 2, Passenger Car 1 and 2, Panoramic Seats Car, Dining Car 1 and 2, and a freight car. In order to pull the other ten cars, each of the three locomotives had an engineer and engineer assistant, and with a steam whistle as sign, each locomotive would do a triple-heading to adjust its pace. Therefore, even if the driving staff were lacking by just one person, the operation would not go as desired.

Femme Fatale had been invaded by hijackers with weapons not even an hour after departing from Leidenschaftlich. The hijackers had scattered into each car upon the start of the operation, seizing the train from the freight car. In the process, the ones murdered were a porter from Simple Sleeping Car 1, one engineer from Locomotive 3 and Samuel’s partners – a total of three assistants – from Locomotive 1.

Femme Fatale needed replenishment of water, which was its fuel, from the stop stations. Currently, parallel to the water supplying, a demand had been sent to Leidenschaftlich and the National Railway for replacements to the vacant engineer and assistant posts, and the substitutes were being awaited. The hijackers seemed to have made other demands to the government, but did not notify Samuel, who was merely one of the hostages, of such things.

They had a cloth bearing the national emblem of a certain northern country wrapped around their arms. What on Earth was their purpose? Was it to take revenge for their defeat? Did they have even more outrageous plans? Either way, it could be assumed that their group was full of people that behaved carelessly and did not take orders. After all, no matter how much they lacked knowledge of how trains worked, they wound up killing staff members for hindering the operation.

“Don’t worry. If you hadn’t listened to our instructions, it’d be a different story, but since you are a driver, we won’t kill you. This space is crammed. Don’t get too scared and wet your pants. It’d stink.” One of the hijackers said as if to calm Samuel down, perhaps due to his fearful form being unsightly.

“Hum, once the vacancy is supplemented... until what point am I supposed to drive...?”

“Go to the final stop with no changes in the course. What we demand of you is to deliver us safely.”

He had thought that saying anything would irritate them and earn him a violent response. Thus, he was a little surprised to be able to talk normally to them.

——They may be human beings just like me, but I can’t bring myself to think of them as such.

From Samuel’s viewpoint, they seemed like people from a completely different world.

There were obviously people other than Samuel LaBeouf wondering why things had turned out that way. Unlike Samuel, who had his life assured to some extent for being in the position of engineer, the ones in question were the frightened passengers, who had no idea of when they might be killed should they get on the hijackers’ nerves.

Several hours had passed since the incident had started upon arrival at the water supply point. The number of criminals was not too big, but a few of them were monitoring the hostages by taking turns with one another. The information that an engineer and some assistants had put up a resistance and been slaughtered in the frontal engine room, and that replacement personnel was being awaited had not come down to them. The state of tension due to fear persisted for a long while, and the mental condition of the passengers was nearing its limit.

“Aah, really, why did this have to happen?” In the back of Dining Car 2, one of the customers – an elderly gentleman – lamented with his meal gone cold in front of him.

——At this point in time, I was supposed to be seeing my niece wearing her wedding dress and getting married in our hometown.

He had not expected that the train ride, which had begun with such a happy mood, would turn into something so horrid. The big incidents he would see in newspapers and hear about in rumors always took place far away from him, and therefore, he had never imagined that a disaster of similar proportion would actually occur.

He had not been directing his words at anyone in particular, but the woman sitting close to him reacted to them.

“What is an intercontinental train even meant to be...?”

Amidst such an overwrought scenario, a beautiful and refreshing voice echoed in his ears, “Just as the name says, it is a large-scale vehicle that makes connections through a railroad that goes from one end to the other of the continent, and transports anything, from goods to people. It grants accessibility and profit to many. However, trains cannot run if there is no railway. To build railways, the ground must be shaved off. Even if there are flowerbeds or homes on said ground, whatever might be on the way is forcefully removed and their existence is eliminated.” It belonged to an eccentric, attractive woman who only mutely watched the change of colors in the sky without letting out a single scream ever since the car had been taken control of by the hijacker group. As though a machinery or something of the sort was embedded in her head, she talked on smoothly, “In order to build this railroad, it seems that a northern castle, which used to be a cultural monument, was demolished. Moreover, I have heard that operators from the North, the losing side, have suffered profoundly from overwork due to low-wage labor. Paths are opened with explosives so that we can get through mountains. The number of explosion accidents that happened in the process was not small.” The woman’s blue eyes observed the northern country emblem wrapped around the arm of a hijacker that held onto his weapon.

“That can’t be. You shouldn’t tell lies. Such a thing was... not in the newspapers, was it?”

Few were the people who would not become uncomfortable upon hearing that the state or nation they belonged to was the evil side. As the gentleman spoke a little indignantly, the woman – Violet Evergarden – spouted forth, “It is not a very well-known story. I, too, heard it by coincidence when I was traveling. I have been to everywhere, after all. Most likely, it can be presumed that this was their impetus... but if that were the case, taking the chance of destroying this train car and killing us should have been the main goal. They have murdered crew members, but seem to regard the lives of us passengers as considerably important. There... might be some other purpose...”

The gentleman was shaken at such a frail-looking girl uttering the word “murdered”. “By that, you mean...?”

“Who knows? Since they have taken us as hostages... it is reasonable to believe that they are making demands to the government.”

The gentleman was not convinced of Violet’s speech, yet was impressed by her intelligent guess.

——Just... what exactly does this girl do for a living?

She was a mysterious young woman who had an appearance akin to one of those dolls that small children would carry around. The fear that had been enveloping him settled down a little due to his curiosity regarding her.

“Still, that has nothing to do with us. I simply... wanted to attend the wedding of my distant niece.”

“Yes. However,” Violet continued, “Our circumstances also do not matter to them. Each side persisting on their convictions is what wars are about. This place can already be considered a battlefield.”

The world, which had been covered by dusk, morphed into evening. The soft glow of the lanterns hanging in the car produced a gentle light that significantly contrasted with such an edgy situation. Blue eyes stared at the state of the water supply procedures outside, the car’s lamps and the men yelling at a few passengers that had been taken hostage, respectively.

“I should soon... get going.”

It was then that the gentleman finally noticed. She was not merely observing the situation in silence. She had been aiming for some sort of opening.

“Hey, you, I don’t know what you intend to do, but it’s better to stop...”

“It is completely dark outside. This window is rather large, is it not?”

The gentleman was confused at the remarks that did not make sense.

“Sir, if I may ask, do you smoke cigarettes or cigars?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you have matches?”

“In my right pocket...”

“Please allow me to borrow just one of them later.” Saying nothing but that, Violet promptly stood up. She slowly raised a hand to her hair’s bundle of braids.

The gentleman could see that her hand grasped a thinly-sharpened silver stick. It was one of her hidden devices, which could be used in both close and long-range combat, but from an ordinary person’s view, it could be perceived as nothing but a thick needle.

However, one of the criminals held Violet at gunpoint as she had started acting odd. “Hey, what are you doing?! Hands up!”

“Understood.” She raised her arms, just as she was told.

The next instant, only the lanterns of the car abruptly burst and the lights went out. The screams of the passengers mingled with the hijackers’ angry voices. But there were no gunshots. The sounds of something striking and of breaking glass continued. Then, it became completely quiet. Everyone was enveloped in bewilderment at the silence that met them amidst the pitch darkness.

What had happened to the hijackers? What had been made of the girl who had suddenly stood up? What on Earth was going on in that car at that moment? While the passengers’ minds were filled with questions, fire was lit back within one of the shattered lanterns. A beautiful woman holding a match emerged from the dark like a spirit. With an index finger against her lips, she whispered a “shh”. The woman stood out vividly against the colors of the night. All the passengers who took notice of her fell silent under compulsion.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am a traveler. Everyone, I am aware that you must be tired. Please wait a little bit longer. I will now take control... of the guards outside and the freight car.” Saying no more than that, Violet blew out the match’s fire with a whiff.

The gentleman realized then that a match had been taken from his breast pocket without his notice.

Within that world of darkness, only noises began to echo yet again as one of the left-side windows was opened and someone landed outside. The sounds of gravel being stepped on and of someone running ensued. After a short while, a man’s groan could be heard. A few seconds later, there was a rustle of something heavy being dragged.

The passengers shuddered, astonished with the unexpected turn of events. They then heard a treading over the gravel once more. It was a nimble pacing, coming close to the car. The footsteps of the unseen person fueled the sense of uneasiness in those who had been immersed in fear for a long time span.

“Excuse me.”

“Hih!” The gentleman yelped curtly as the window was casually knocked from outside.

Violet stood in the outer world, where one could rely solely on moonshine, with the moonlight against her back.

“Everyone, make sure to remain quiet. Please escape before the people from the other cars come to attack this one.”

Doll-like clothes, doll-like features. The hints of her humanity were dim in everything about her.

“Do lend a hand to women, elders and children. Please follow along the railway and walk in the opposite direction of the ride. It will most likely take time, but if you go to the nearest station, the military police will definitely grant you protection. It is not a good idea to stay at this station. People who seemed to be station’s staff were conversing amicably with the guards, so there must be other entities participating in this takeover.”

One could tell without directly seeing her fight. She was not an ordinary person.

People started to climb onto the window and come down in a surge.

“What about you? Will not you come with us?” The gentleman asked the enigmatic woman whom he was curious about once he set his foot on the ground.

Violet shook her head. “I have something to do here. An incident such as this one is a first ever since the war ended. Most likely, Leidenschaftlich’s army will make its move to deal with this strife. It is exceedingly difficult to stop a train... which is like a box with people inside, without attacking from the outside. If the inside is emptied, there will be no need for hesitation. It is clear that a battle will commence at one of the next stop stations. Until then, I have to do what I can...”

“That... isn’t something for you to do, right? Let’s all run away together.”

“No...”

Her blue eyes were staring down at the gentleman in front of her, but her consciousness lay elsewhere.

“No, it is something I must do. This is... This is... for the sake of someone whom I wish to become the strength of, even if indirectly.”

She was looking at Gilbert Bougainvillea, who was, somewhere far in the distance, surely spending efforts on the rescue of the citizens.

“Fortunately, I was going to arrive at the place where that I was heading to one day earlier than planned. I happened to use this train by coincidence, but there are other means of transportation. If I am still able to contact my head office today, they should be able to prepare a substitute for my duties... This is a rather big incident, so my company’s president might have already anticipated this situation and arranged a replacement. That is my only matter of concern.”

“You should be concerned about your own body rather than about things like that. It’s dangerous... Aren’t you just a young girl?”

“Worry not. The night has deepened, so I believe I can take control of this with the least possible damage.”

“‘Control’, you say...”

“Take control” were the words that she had spewed a while before as well. It was neither “put up a resistance” nor “seize”. The standpoint she spoke of was different. She was planning to force the battle into surrender. That beautiful woman did not seem fearful or nervous in the slightest of being outnumbered.

——I have a feeling... that this is not quite having confidence.

All of her actions appeared to the gentleman as an automatic mechanism.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I am not.” Her attitude was of someone unbothered by the fact that she was about to pick a fight with hijackers.

The train soon started moving.

The gentleman thanked her for saving everyone as she climbed back in and asked lastly, “You, what’s your name?”

Violet’s expression grew even more attractive than before while she placed an index finger against her lips without saying anything. As the train was gone, the gentleman was unable to hear her name.

Back at six hours and twenty-seven minutes, Gilbert had sent out an emergency convocation to his own troops, assembling them at a runway where Nighthawks took flight. All were waiting at a standby place near said runway for the transmission of the operation’s contents, the arming of the troops and the adjustment of the Nighthawk planes to be finalized. He had decided to make use of that time and contact the two men he needed to speak with.

“We are connected to the Leidenschaftlich Navy Ministry.”

“Sorry about that. I’ll borrow this as it is. I’m counting on you to keep people away for now.”

The person from the communication room, whom Gilbert had requested beforehand to make a call to his brother, conceded him the seat.

His brother’s voice could soon be heard. “Gil, you had a favor to ask your great older brother?”

It was the tone of someone feigning displeasure, Gilbert thought.

Although Dietfriet would make requests to Gilbert, the opposite usually did not happen. Whenever he did ask for anything, his brother would take a stance of annoyance, but never refused him. He probably felt indebted to Gilbert for the treatment that he had been giving the latter so far.

“Yeah, Brother. I do have a favor.”

There was no way the older one would be unhappy that his younger brother was relying on him.

Gilbert had been able to declare in the meeting that the navy would be mobilized since his appeals’ chances of success were visible. The circumstances seemed to have been transmitted to the Navy Ministry as well, and so, a request for a battleship to be dispatched and prevent the migration from the port capitol of the North was officially issued.

Even though both were national organizations, Leidenschaftlich’s army and navy were separate entities that shared the military budget. A mediator was needed for one to acquire the other’s cooperation, or else, it was quite difficult to do so whenever there was no great gain for either. With the passage of time, the fact that Dietfriet had betrayed the Bougainvillea – a family that had joined the army for generations – and enlisted into the navy had been turning into an asset for the two brothers. Just as Gilbert, Dietfriet had carved a position for himself that enabled him to move his troops to a large extent.

“Well, then, I will definitely pay you back for this one day.”

“Bring drinks and celebrate my birthday with me when it comes. That’d be enough.”

“If it’s something like this, I’d do it even without it serving as repayment.” Gilbert replied and was about to hang up, but his fingertips, which had stretched towards the communication equipment, halted at the next words from Dietfriet.

“That’s right... just one more thing. The reason you’re so desperate is because of ‘that’, isn’t it? I saw the newspaper. I ended up spotting ‘that’ in it even without wanting to. Has ‘it’ come to see you? ‘It’ discovered that you survived, right? I was curious as to what happened afterwards. Did you make ‘it’ yours?”

“Hah?” It was common since their childhood for his brother to prank him, and so, Gilbert thought that had been tasteless witticism at first. “Stop with the bad jokes at a time like this, Brother. Violet doesn’t know of my survival.”

Silence.

“Brother?”

“It wasn’t a joke. I see... I was sure ‘it’ was gonna go see you as soon as possible, but I was wrong, huh? So ‘it’ is laying low because of this situation... Since you’re so nice, you stayed away in order to give ‘it’ a peaceful life, so you’re sure to be worrying that ‘it’ might find out about you because of this emergency rescue plan. Don’t fret. ‘It’ already knows.”

“What... What are you saying...?” Cold sweat slowly trailed down his back. “There’s... no way she would.” His voice was faltering.

“But it seems so. Last time I saw you during the Flying Letters... I told you I had seen ‘it’, right? Back then, ‘it’ asked me... if you were alive. I gave an answer that neither affirmed nor denied anything. And so, ‘it’... she became convinced. That you were alive, I mean.”

Although Gilbert could not change what had already happened, he felt like saying “wait up”. His vision went white. He was dizzy enough to be on the verge of throwing up. With a hand on his lips, he kept quiet.

——Violet... knows?

“Hey, Gil. You okay?”

He had heard in detail from Hodgins about how much his lie had afflicted and saddened her. If she had learned that he was alive, then Gilbert was nothing to Violet other than the Lord who had tossed her away without so much as praising her military deeds. There would be no helping it if she came to hate him.

“Why... did you do something so uncalled for...?!”

Intense wrath engulfed Gilbert’s heart. He was close to venting, but the only outlet for his rage was his brother.

“Like I care. Don’t involve me in your blind love mess. I didn’t answer, but she was convinced of it. That’s all.”

“You think it’s unrelated to you... Brother, you always... Just how am I supposed to face her...?!”

“The people closest to you are family, right? It looked like she had always been believing that you had lived. When she confirmed that you were, how can I put it? Well, she had her eyes shining like an idiot. If she hasn’t gone there to see you... that’s right. There’s only one thing I can think of. Since she’s a tool, she’s waiting for her Master to pick her back up. She’s probably anticipating a moment when she’ll be needed... ‘cause she’s dumb. It’s a good opportunity, so go fetch her.”

“Brother—!!”

“You were preparing yourself for the worst while making this emergency rescue plan, right? Be thankful to your older brother for giving you this push. Bye, Gil. Leave the sea to me. Next time we meet will be on my birthday... Love ya.”

“Brother, wait!”

The line was turned off one-sidedly. Gilbert was mute out of great perplex.

Perhaps people were waiting for the conversation to end, as the door was knocked from outside the communication room. Someone from his troops handed him a baggage with the weapons and ammo that he had specified. The one who had brought the baggage was concerned about Gilbert’s oozing distress, taking it merely as a glimpse of the intense negotiations with the navy, but in reality, that was not the case.

While checking the baggage’s contents, Gilbert held firmly onto the gun. Should he shoot a bullet into his own head, his worries over everything he was shouldering would certainly be gone, but he could not do so.

He then contacted Leidenschaftlich’s CH Postal Service. A girl with a young-sounding voice answered the phone, but informed him that they were on temporary closing for the day. It seemed that they already knew about the hijacking incident.

“Please announce... that I called to offer help in the hijacking case of the intercontinental train. One of your members is in it, right? If you just say that I am from the Leidenschaftlich army, he should be able to know who it is...”

He could faintly hear a state of agitation on the other side of the line. It was a shout from his old friend, followed by the thud of something like a chair being knocked over as someone stood up, rustles of falling paperwork, and finally, he was able to catch sounds of breathing.

“Gilbert! You... Where have you been and doing what?!” A voice clearly coated in anger echoed in his ears stridently. Regardless, Gilbert wound up feeling joy. It had truly been a long time since he had last talked to Claudia Hodgins.

“I heard just a bit ago from the secretary that you had contacted the army. Sorry. I was in a meeting.”

“Don’t go having meetings while one of my employees is in major trouble! You... know what’s up, don’t you? The army is making its move, right? In the hijacking case of the intercontinental train, I mean! She is... She is...”

“I am aware. Violet is on board, isn’t she? There was a photo of her in the newspaper.”

Hodgins was dumbfounded at Gilbert’s casual response and immediately retorted, “Don’t talk so calmly!” Losing his composure even more, he started making odd claims, “I am the way I am, and you were supposed to be like me too. You were supposed to be like that all along.”

——He’s sentimental, and a boisterous guy.

Gilbert ended up laughing. He felt embarrassed of how much he had longed for that noisy friend of his in the meantime they had not talked to one another. Not letting it show that he was just as anxious as the latter, he replied with words that were not solely his vanity, but also merged with his true sentiments, “As if I can afford to lose my mind. During times of crisis, it’s my duty to come up with means of protecting the citizens.”

“Does Little Violet... count as one of those citizens?”

“Obviously.”

“Are you mad... that I let Little Violet get in danger even though you entrusted her to me?”

Gilbert was sincerely surprised to be asked something completely different. “What are you saying? I’m grateful to you. I wouldn’t have entrusted her... to anyone else. You’re a man with sense of responsibility, so I left her to you. But that has nothing to do with what is happening now.”

“I don’t think so.”

Gilbert realized what Hodgins was talking about as if he had grasped the matter with his hands. Even though he was not at fault, blaming himself while wondering what else he could have done was a trait of his best friend’s personality.

“Hodgins.”

“What?”

“You’re my number one friend.”

“What’s with that, out of the blue...?”

“Hodgins. A friend like you... won’t show up before me ever again. You’re that important, even if you don’t want to be. I’m the same to you, aren’t I? That’s why... I had thought you were taking my sins lightly. You asked me why I had let go of Violet and told me to come see her, right? And said I shouldn’t call you unless I reconsidered it.”

“I did. I definitely did.”

“I... I keenly felt that I was the last person she should see, so I let her go. When we first met, I had believed it was best for me to watch over her while keeping her at arm distance, but that was a façade, and in the end, I used her as a tool.”

“But that... under those circumstances, there was no helping it. I would have done the same.”

“Is that really so? I... don’t think you would. How is she now, the Violet that you guided and raised? If I... hadn’t made the wrong choice... if I hadn’t raised her by my side, she would have grown up without knowing the battlefield. The current Violet is how she was originally supposed to be. That’s why it’s not your fault if something like this happens in the process. For starters, this was an accident.”

“If you’re gonna say that, I can shoot it right back at ya. Don’t make it seem like Little Violet fighting alongside you in the war was something bad. That’s blasphemy against every soldier we lived with in that period. The problem was how you would have guided her after that. And it was then I got angry, because you were prioritizing only your own feelings and not thinking about Little Violet. But, listen! I’ll cease fire temporarily. Now isn’t the time to be on break-up. We’re both her guardians. Let’s save her.” His tone was determined and seemed to deliver the heated, glaring gaze of his greyish blue orbs even through the communication equipment.

“I agree with that... For her sake, anything I can do... In order to keep her away from the army, I have done several preparations to prevent her return. Personal connections, merits... I devoted myself for everything to be the utmost and very best. I’m in the middle of that even at the moment. If it’s to protect Violet, I won’t nitpick methods.”

“So, you’re gonna put up a cool pose like, ‘whatever is not for her sake... shall be excluded, even should that be myself’ and protect her from the shadows?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

By the looks of it, Hodgins also did not seem to know the truth. That meant Violet really had concluded on her own that Gilbert had survived, and, as Dietfriet had said, was simply waiting for him. For her Master to come retrieve her.

“But I wonder about that... Soon, the lie I pinned into her might be busted. There’s a high chance I’ll come in contact with Violet.”

After a brief silence, Hodgins’s request for repetition in the form of a “Haah!?” resounded loudly. He finally took notice of turbine sounds coming from behind Gilbert. “Wait a bit, then where... are you now?”

“Near a runway that was reserved for my troops’ Nighthawks. I’m currently coordinating the departure.” Gilbert loaded his gun while speaking. He had also taken off his military uniform and finished changing into his battle outfit. The latter felt more familiar on his body.

“Of Leidenschaftlich’s Special Offense Force!? Yo-You... are commanding them and going for the rescue?!”

“That’s right.”

“You... said you wouldn’t see her! Is it okay if you do?!”

Silence. Gilbert believed the conversation would drag on for much longer if he revealed that Violet apparently knew about his survival.

“Why are you quiet? Isn’t that it?”

“When everything is over, I’ll apologize and report to you too. This is in order to save Violet. There’s no other option anymore. If we do end up meeting, I’ll beg for forgiveness...”

Their time to talk was shortening.

“Then prepare yourself for the worst. This is something that you caused.” Hodgins said something similar to what Dietfriet had. “So, what will you do once the Nighthawks take flight? Don’t tell me, you’ll jump onto the train while it’s in motion?”

“That’s right.”

“You really... are insane sometimes! A knight-in-shiny-armor gone crazy over love! Haha! I’ll praise you for that.”

Hodgins’s laughter could be heard. As Gilbert was unable to counter-argue, his face reddened.

“By the way, eh, are you... still a lieutenant-colonel? Wasn’t there some deal about you receiving other two rank promotions?”

“You’re full of questions... They waited for my injuries to heal. I became a colonel a few days ago.” With his prosthetic left arm, Gilbert stroked the eyepatch on his palm, which hid the right eye he had lost. Even with only one side of his vision, his handling of weapons had not deteriorated.

“And yet you’re the one in command!? That’s even more insane! The higher-ups sure made a great concession!”

“No more mocking, Hodgins. I told you, didn’t I? If it’s for Violet’s sake, I don’t nitpick my methods. Of course, our objective is to settle down the current situation, but there’s no way that can be done without me commanding on-site. Earlier, you said you’d do everything you can. If those words weren’t a lie, I want you to show me your data-acquiring skills. Is there any information that the military doesn’t know of?”

“Got it. I’ll tell you. But lemme just say one thing.”

“What is it...?”

“You... turn into a huge idiot when it comes to Little Violet, huh. I... like that a lot.”

“Shut up.”

Why was that? Between friends, even if they spent a long while without speaking to each other, once they eventually opened their mouths and reached out to one another, they would end up talking as if the flow of time in that gap had never existed. The two forgot about back when they had stopped contacting each other and begun to chatter.

“I’ll say what we have here, so you tell me too. Let’s have an info exchange. The hijackers had in them the national emblem of a certain northern country, Rohand. Remnants of an extremist party that also caused trouble before by raiding a construction site when the railroad of the intercontinental train was being made are in that group. Still, it seems they were not supposed to be a number of people significant enough to cause such a big incident... they might’ve gotten more collaborators.”

Gilbert ran a pen through his notebook. He also spoke about what he had heard during the meeting, as well as about the demands for a political offender kept in the Altair Prison to be handed over and to migrate to another continent in exchange for the passengers. He was aware that they were not ones to negotiate with in normal circumstances.

“Our information and yours aren’t that different in terms of freshness. The train is currently making a stop at a water supply point. It’s been confirmed through the supplementary information from the Leidenschaftlich National Railway that an engineer and some engineer assistants of the train were killed, and that the criminals sought substitute personnel. It’s good that we were able to buy time, but you said that their numbers must be small since they’re taking such reckless actions despite having a plan, right? Normally, when an anti-government organization swells up and spontaneously discharges like this, it’s mostly due to worthless bastards being drawn into it by a primary factor of making numbers balance. Meaning they have caused a situation where there’s no turning back, huh?”

“Either way, they wanna slap the South in the face and migrate to a country that isn’t their own. Did you know that Rohand’s territory is on the railway’s track? For example, if we had been the ones to lose the war, Leidenschaftlich’s towns had been destroyed and a roadbed had been built across it, what would you think?”

“I would provisionally evacuate, store weapons, gather warriors and come back.”

“If it were me, I’d find my happiness in another land, but you’d do something like that. This is probably also valid for the enemies. And surely there is a comrade of theirs in the Altair Prison whom they’d think that could do it. If I... were the criminal of this incident, and you were in Altair, maybe I’d have done the same as them.”

——If it were you, you’d take a smarter route. Gilbert thought but did not voice it.

Perhaps having been able to realize something from Gilbert’s silence, Hodgins said quickly, “The enemies are level-headed enough only not to kill the passengers, but they’ll soon give in to despair. If that happens, there’s a high chance that the number of deaths will rise. You said our information wasn’t different in freshness, but I still have material. The regulations after the calling-off of military forces in the North are rigid. If the hijackers managed to get weapons, it’s most possible that they imported them from another continent. It’s been confirmed there are armed groups that get their hands into weapons that we’re not yet familiar with through entwined foreign trades with other countries and continents. Still, it looks like the relationship between the arm dealers of these continents and the people of ours who want weapons can’t be considered good. It seems the fees are pretty overcharged. Meaning they’re being taken advantage of.”

“Even Leidenschaftlich has problems in foreign trades with other continents. They are wary of our natural resources and don’t stop just at interchanging goods, but also try to buy lands here. It is, aah... almost like that.”

“Yeah, like a forewarning that there’s some project involving the South and North. You get it? There’s a need to understand the background of the incident happening right now. At first glance, it looks like a fight between Leidenschaftlich, of the South, and a country of the North, Rohand, but in reality, there’s one more entity. It’s only watching. But it exists. As a third influence, it wants to know just how well Leidenschaftlich can handle a situation like this one. Other than being on the side that won the war, we’re also the greatest military nation.”

“Migration plans, another continent, new armaments.”

Albeit messily, a summary of the incident was unraveling within Gilbert. A thread trailed around his mind, and the results of the accumulated information came out. One: the contents of the demands made by the hijackers were that, once the intercontinental train arrived at its last station in the port town, the political offender and war criminal of the North were allowed to migrate with them to another continent. Two: they, who were from the defeated nation, had been able to execute the hijacking through the other continent’s support.

Those with good intuition could tell. The current situation had been induced because the trigger of a next war was about to burst. Just when everyone was thinking that the horrors of wartime had settled down in their continent, there were now other continents targeting it.

As Gilbert’s supposition wound up hitting bull’s-eye, his head grew heavy. “Our victory needs to be overwhelming.”

“Will Leidenschaftlich dispatch rescue troops other than yours?”

“The orders have been given. They’ll target the water supply point, attack, help the passengers escape and engage into battle. It’ll be an ambush from the army garrison of the North. If, by any chance, they still strive towards migrating to another country, the ones they’d have to face next would be the navy. My brother is also on the move. But we can’t let them get to the sea. For that, I have a favor to ask you.”

“What is it? You can say anything.”

“Buy the land of a water supply point station that the train is expected to pass by.”

“Hah?”

“Trains usually require water supply. It’s a one-stop-per-hour ratio. Once the water is replenished, we’ll lose an opportunity of rescue again. However, it’s predictable that they will use hostages as shield and the dispatched northern troops would have to allow their passage. I want a place where they will definitely stop at. And then, I want the railroad to be destroyed so that they won’t be able to not stop... That’s why, buy the property, and break it down.”

“‘Buy it’, you say, like it’s something easy...”

“You can’t?”

“Don’t ask stupidities. It’s not a matter of being able to or not. I will do it. My employee is on that thing!”

“Since it’s you, I did think you’d say that. The lands of the passing points are divided into two types: those owned by the Leidenschaftlich National Railway and those that were rented from the original owners and are in use. When I looked at the map, I was able to narrow the places where we’d be able to have a flashy ambush battle, yet in which it would hardly affect other territories and that the train would afterwards undoubtedly stop at once far away from the water supply point, down to a few stops. And among them, there is only one point that is a private property. I want you to purchase it with your talent for business. From now, as soon as possible.”

Gilbert himself thought he was saying something unreasonable.

“You... Gilbert, you...”

However, he was certain that, if it was his best friend, the latter would definitely manage it.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Why did you narrow that down?”

“To tell the truth, the major-general didn’t approve of this strategy.”

“Well, there’s no way anyone would immediately nod at being told ‘let’s buy land, destroy it and kick our enemies’ asses’, is there?”

“It seemed I would have been able to convince him if I’d had more time, but unfortunately, I’m about to fly. I’ve decided right then to make of this not a military, but a private strategy. The money will come from me. Places in possession of the Leidenschaftlich National Railway can’t be negotiated. However, if it’s a land up for rent owned by one person, it can be nominally made private. Buy it under your name. If you become the titular, whatever you do with it is your own business.”

“Even so, it’d be bad to destroy it, right?! It’s being rented by the National Railway, isn’t it?! Even if it’s private in name only, it’s being used by the National Railway. I can’t just go damaging the property.”

“That’s where your assistance comes. After the private property is sold, extort the one responsible for the National Railway. You can do so when the incident settles down. The Leidenschaftlich National Railway’s crisis management will surely be interrogated about its absence after this case is finished. Say that you’ll make an escape route for them. In normal circumstances, I’d rather have them hand the land over themselves, but that’s impossible for bureaucratic bungling. That’s why we’ll be the ones to propose it. If we let the criminals get to the sea, this won’t end just with the ones responsible being fired. In exchange of us being able to go rampant in a private property, make people promise not to investigate them later on. And then, ask a newspaper company to...”

“I’ve been able to catch it somehow. You got me involved in this with the intention of making it into some impressive tale, right?”

“You’re quick.”

The plan that Gilbert had come up with was like a sequence.

The postal company president Claudia Hodgins, for the sake of his employee’s protection and out of worry for the safety of the people taken as hostages, would suggest a cul-de-sac to take place in a territory rented by the Leidenschaftlich National Railway itself (said postal company president was also a former Leidenschaftlich soldier and carried the achievement of having been promoted to major). Fearing the situation’s aggravation, even if the Leidenschaftlich National Railway were to predict through the suggestion of the property owner that the railroad would hardly be usable afterwards, it would prioritize actual lives over expenses and agree to the scheme.

Henceforth, an arrangement of the strategy being transmitted by someone from the army and the plan being immediately executed would be printed out. In reality, the land would not belong to Hodgins since the one paying for it would be Gilbert Bougainvillea, but as long as such fact did not see the light of day, any sort of grandiose story could be created about it. Unlike the current circumstances, severe public criticism was something that could be eased.

“I’m counting on you as insurance. If this doesn’t work, we’ll just carry it over to the next water supply point. However, there will be more victims, and the possibility of Violet’s survival becoming dubious will be higher. A fast resolution is necessary. I’ll let you make use of one of my subordinates. He has the documents for the land’s purchasing, so call him. You’ll probably have to negotiate with its representative, but if it’s you, you can work it out with your misleading flattery.”

“I’m honored for the compliments! But this will definitely be busted later. People know about our relationship, right?”

Gilbert turned around upon being tapped on the shoulder. It seemed the Nighthawks were ready.

“I don’t mind even losing my position for this. But I will try to prove that I’m not someone who can be cut off so easily. Rather than me, what’s important is the citizens’... Violet’s safety. Listen, I don’t forgive those who put the citizens of our Leidenschaftlich in danger, no matter who they are. A number of lives have already been lost. We’ll definitely pay them back. It doesn’t matter who the other party is, be them the North or another continent. Our Leidenschaftlich does not yield to foreign invasion or pressure. It’s been like that ever since its foundation. I will make the enemies regret laying their hands on Leidenschaftlich.” The Bougainvillea heir spat out his quiet anger in a voice tone that even his friend would find ominous.

It was precisely seven hours and sixteen minutes into the evening. Why was there no one around?

One of the hijackers cried out upon seeing the state of Dining Car 2. He looked about. The interior of the dark car shook with the steam whistle of the locomotive.

The train, which had been making a stop, had finally begun to move again. The Leidenschaftlich National Railway had responded to the hijackers’ demands and sent replacement personnel to the pitiful engineer, Samuel LaBeouf. He was currently attempting to drive while another hijacker thrust a gun at him.

Things had expanded to a point in which it was impossible to understand many aspects of the several happenings. One of the aspects was the empty dining car that the man was staring at. Not only the passengers but also his companions, who had been in control of Dining Car 2, were nowhere to be found.

The man recalled a cryptic ghost story passed down at the northern homeland that he used to live in. It stated that when one was abroad a speeding vehicle in the middle of the night, they should not look outside from anywhere other than its front, whether it was a carriage, a car or even a train.

——The reason why is...

He put a hand on the frame of the only window that had been left open.

——...because non-humans are guided by the moonlight and follow it.

Then opened the window to see the back of the car.

——A frightening ghost might be baring its fangs and running after us.

However, what chased the train was nothing but the moon floating in the night sky. The smell of prairies during nighttime only granted the man trapped inside the box called a train slight coldness instead of terror.

“Hah.” The man caressed his chest. Apparitions did not exist – he was able to confirm that much. Rather, what remained unconfirmed was the cause behind the disappearance of the passengers and his comrades.

“I will be taking this.” The words the man heard came from a direction he would never have imagined. By the moment he both caught them and understood their meaning, his collar was simultaneously grabbed and he was tossed outside.

The train was in motion. It was not too fast, but no one would survive unharmed should they fall off. Before the man collided with the ground, what he saw were blue eyes staring at him from atop the train and a golden light sparkling against the moonlit night. While swallowing his breath at such beauty, the man bounced onto the soil like a small ball.

Violet readied her position on the hurtling train. Her hips carried a military saber that she had borrowed from the man when throwing him out. Her body was already equipped with numerous weapons snatched from other hijackers.

After experimenting the saber, dagger, and pistol sword that did not suit her lovely ribbon-tie one-piece once for each, she went back to the saber. It seemed their heaviness was not yet overwhelming, and she put them away in weapon holders that also appeared to have been stolen.

Violet’s fighting style was similar to a spider’s. At first, she had merely defeated one hijacker when bumping onto him, as he had sensed the strange state of the freight car and had come to check it, but as others would come searching for their comrade who had not returned, she concluded, “this is a good opportunity” and hid herself while on standby, eliminating them one by one. Right before losing interest, the hijackers would see the upside-down figure of a woman appearing from outside the window and let out a scream before fainting. She had laid out the yarns and was hunting the preys that she had successfully drawn into her spider web.

There had been four people monitoring the hostages in Dining Car 1. The only remaining hijacker had continued keeping watch while surrounded by people. As he became unable to handle the eeriness of Dining Car 2, he went to seek support from the car ahead.

Although the passengers of Dining Car 2 had been freed during the train’s stop, there was nothing that could be done to somehow rescue the ones of Dining Car 1, even if the guard’s eyes could be evaded. Violet gazed forward as if glaring. She decided that her next task was to take control of the engine room and make the train stop again.

Violet advanced while deftly walking onto the scaffold. Her resolve had no signs of crumbling as she was headed, silent and unaccompanied, towards a seizure battle. She was no longer a girl soldier. There were no commander officers beside her. She was treading through a life in which she did not have back-ups, with no option other than making choices on her own. As a result of that, she was taking actions without anyone’s instructions in order to help the passengers. She was attempting to do what she could as Violet Evergarden.

“Major.”

The train that they happened to be riding in had been taken over. If she had the ability to help them escape, she would simply do so. In retrospect, in case her Lord was indeed alive and in the army, she had utmost trust that he was definitely thinking of a method to save that train, even if said person was not aware of what she was doing.

“Sounds of turbines?” Violet suddenly looked up at the empty night sky. A noise unlike the one of the train’s sprinting mixed with it in her ears. She could see several flying objects looming right over the train.

“There! That’s the culprit!”

A bullet gushed through the night sky. A gunshot echoed along with a man’s voice. From within the locomotive, a gun was aimed at her. One of the hijackers, who had been in a frenzy while looking for the passengers that were nowhere in sight, as well as the person who had most likely caused such a situation, had finally found Violet running on top of the train.

Violet peeled her eyes away from the objects flying in the night sky and concentrated on the battle. She sped up onto the locomotive while lowering her posture. After taking some distance, she constrained the criminals inside the locomotive by shooting at them, then resumed running. The best idea was to get inside the car as soon as possible, but it did not seem that she would be able to do so immediately.

“Who... are you?! The one who helped the hostages of the rear car escape was you, wasn’t it?!”

The men climbed from the window of the Passenger Car to get rid of Violet. From both behind and ahead of her, the men bearing the emblem of the North were gradually approaching her with the intention of attacking from both sides.

“Answer! Who are you?!”

“I am a mere traveler.”

“Liar! Did you know about our plans? No... it’s not like there would be anyone foolish enough to come aboard alone if they knew. Come here! We’ll interrogate you about the details. Put down the weapons.”

Violet put the gun back into the holder.

“Wrong! Leave the weapons at your feet!”

Not listening to the restraint order, she took a large step. “Who...” while saying so, Violet landed on the chest of the one that had been threatening her, her fist diving into his face.

The fist that came from a woman so fine-looking was much heavier than it seemed. The man rolled down, taking a few others with him.

“Who... said anything about complying with you?” with her low grumble, battle commenced.

The men charged at her from back and front. Firstly, she crisscrossed the knife bouts from a man who had come from behind. She defended herself with her left hand, grasped his face and pushed him backwards. As he faltered, she swept him off his feet and, just like that, delivered a kick to drop him off the train.

An enemy who rushed towards her from the front attempted to hit her with his bare hands. It was a tall and broad man. He probably had confidence in his physical strength. Merrily, he targeted Violet’s face. Receiving a series of kicks with both arms, Violet aimed for an opening, placed a hand onto the hull and rotated her long legs. While he was overtaken by her kick, she sank the fist of her free hand into his stomach. But the man seemed to have a hard protection plank hidden under his clothes. She did feel that something had bent, but there were no sounds of bones breaking.

“I’ll crush your face! Die!” After a pause, the man raised his fist towards her once more.

Violet accepted it with one hand, pulled the gun from the holster and shot his thigh at close range.

“You... that’s unfa...”

Nothing was cowardly about Violet, who had been raised in the battlefields. She gently pressed the collapsing man’s shoulder, and he disappeared into the dark with a scream. As Violet was on her own yet again, the rattling of the train resounded in her ears.

That was the power of the woman named Violet Evergarden. It was an actual proof of strength from the weapon whose name was not in the registrations of Leidenschaftlich’s army.

The train’s hijacking plan was failing in a progressive fashion. The perpetrators mostly carried out a rash behavior, but that was not the direct cause. They had enough military force to control the weak passengers. However, and Auto-Memories Doll who prided herself in having the strength of an unmatched warrior had ended up mingling with said passengers.

The moon in the sky had been enclosed in nightly clouds and temporarily disappeared, but the moonshine slowly began to gleam down over the world again. When the moonlight guided Violet once more, there was a different enemy in front of her. Even without being invited, Violet showed herself to them.

“Are you... a soldier of Leidenschaftlich?” The low voice of a man could be heard. It was a quiet way of speaking. He had features that gave off an impression of transparency and steadiness. Although its color was dull in the nightly darkness, he was clad in an azure coat. Rohand’s national emblem was embroidered on it. For whatever reason, he had a long case in hands.

“No, I am no longer a soldier now. I have a question as well. Are you the strongest person among the ones responsible for this takeover? If possible, I would like to fight whoever that person is.”

The man gripped his case firmly. As he did so, its exterior detached and fell to his feet, revealing a bayonet. With flawless etiquette, he bowed at Violet. “I am the leader of Rohand’s chivalric order... as for my name, I’ve already abandoned it. I am the strongest one that you seek. I have... seen you in the battlefield. You’re Leidenschaftlich’s witch, right?” The leader of Rohand’s chivalric order observed Violet under the moonlight with an indescribable gaze. It denoted his fear and wrath at the fact that the young demon of the battlefields had grown up so much and stood before him yet again. However, she was but a beautiful woman no matter how he looked at her, and so, he was perplexed. “Your fighting form was... just like a fierce god... I’ve heard no rumors about you after the Continental War ended, but... I see, so you’ve been doing this kind of obscure work.”

The air that steamed from the leader was unlike the other men that she had fought.

“I apologize for not meeting your expectations, but the witch you speak of has already departed from this world and is not a soldier anymore. I am now only a traveler. I am not doing anything assassin-like, either. I did give your comrades a rough treatment, but they are sure to be alive. Although this is arrogant of me, as a passenger of this train, I have a request. Please release all the hostages.”

“That cannot be done.”

“I suppose so... We are being used as material for some sort of trade. Even I can understand that much. Why are you doing such a thing?”

“It’s to take back the things... and the person... that you guys have trampled over.”

“Do you mean to start another war?”

The chivalric leader chuckled. His voice rose into laughter, but it did not reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, but want to ask you something. Is the war over to you?”

Did she not think she would ever be asked such a question? Violet grew stiff.

“I can’t read you very well since you’re expressionless, but the fact that you aren’t answering means you have a clue, right? That’s what soldiers are about. Forever and always... our memories of viciousness stay with us like remnants of burn marks and do not disappear. It will never be over for me.”

The exchange had a sense of déjà-vu.

“However... in truth, it is already over.”

“Still, war will happen once more.”

Such words were Violet’s former self in essence.

“The faces of my deceased companions. The smell of corpses. The weight of a gun snatched from an enemy’s dead body, the night I spent in pain after being beaten by a senior officer without knowing the motive. I had been able to endure all this... because I believed that, someday, the war would end and supposedly something brilliant awaited me in the future. But how was it in reality? My friend that had been going for the same dream as myself was put in prison, the higher-ups who started the war are living leisurely, and now our nation is becoming our enemy. The soldiers who protected the citizens with their lives at stake are labeled as useless and get stones thrown at them by peasants. My hometown was gone without a trace as the victorious country laid a railway track for its trains over the motherland that we tried to protect. I also tried to forget about it. But, in my heart, forever and ever, even now...”

There were deep dark bags under the chivalric leader’s eyes.

“...even though I wake up in the morning, sleep at night and I am breathing, a fury that I cannot suppress burns within my body at unexpected times. To solve this, I have no choice but kill your country, which made me this way. Not just the South. The West, which conspired with it, too. This is still just a tiny beginning. From this point on, our original lives will start. Are you satisfied? If I have to talk, given that I’m not so good at conversations, I’ll do it with my fists.”

There was a reason why he had said “our”. One, two, three more people who wore the same azure coat as him appeared and took out the bayonet from their own long cases and aimed the weapons at Violet. On top of the train in movement, the former chivalric order with their bayonets and a former girl soldier wielding several kinds of weapons put themselves in position and stood facing one another.

It was like the law of causal response. Violet’s past pursued her no matter how much time passed, never letting her go.

Violet held onto the brooch on her chest only once. “Why... did things turn out this way?” was a question that surfaced in everyone’s minds when cruel things happened, but not in hers. That was because the one who used to be her Lord had told her, “without ever blaming anyone, live on”.

“I am a taciturn myself, so that would be of help.” Violet unsheathed the saber and bowed in a lady-like manner.

At seven hours and thirty-four minutes, Hodgins had proceeded to a branch office of Leidenschaftlich’s National Estate Purchase Agency. It was the place that had been selected and that he had relied on for the construction of the CH Postal Service’s headquarters. Upon claiming that he had a negotiation to discuss with the person in charge, whom he was on close terms with, the receptionist promptly gave him a positive response. Separated by a desk in a private room that he had been led to, the two of them were gazing at each other.

“No, even if you say that, President Hodgins...” Compared to before he had listened to Hodgins, the one in charge – John Wishaw – showed signs of discomfort in his face.

He was a man in his mid-thirties who appeared young enough to be in his twenties. He was often despised for his looks, working as the manager of that branch office regardless.

“Are there any issues?” Fronting him, Claudia Hodgins’s way of speaking was in accordance to their ages, but he was one or two levels above the latter in being a dandy. Normally, one could often witness an attitude that poked fun at people coming from him, but the expression of seriousness he displayed in critical moments could stir people’s hearts, even with them being of the same sex.

John recoiled at Hodgins’s attacking stare. “As I said, your request is extremely hard to accept. About the land ownership purchase of the village you asked for, Ritorno, just acquiring one section of it is already hard, let alone the entire thing...”

“The truth is that just its train station is fine, but it’ll earn us more profit to buy the whole village while we’re at it.”

“The station is the village’s public property, and cannot be a subject of general estate negotiations.”

“No, that’s wrong, isn’t it? I contacted the Leidenschaftlich Legal Affairs Bureau before coming here. The station is a private property. It’s one of the large pieces of land that the village head, Miss Ian, inherited from her ancestors. The railroad that was laid down for the sake of the mining industry that said ancestors had started, and the station that was built for the same reason is Ritorno village’s. Leidenschaftlich’s National Railway uses the station as a water supply point for the trains to make stops at, but passengers can’t get off there. Because it’s a private property. You’d see that if you check the estate registration. Can you open the file in your hands?”

Albeit reluctantly, John opened the documents regarding Ritorno’s territorial data. The proprietary was the head of Ritorno’s coalmines.

“You sure... are knowledgeable.”

What Hodgins had said was true.

“It’s pretty famous. The station where people can’t get off at, that is. It’s got romance to it, right? But it’s not like no one can get off at it. Those who have Ritorno’s coalmine labor certificate and its residents can. It’s because it’s a private estate that outsiders can only enter and leave from a place other than the passage exclusive of those who have permission after undergoing troublesome procedures... Now, let’s return to the problem. I just want the land that has the railway where the intercontinental train will run across.”

——I’ll persuade you. I’ll persuade you. I’ll persuade you. I’ll definitely persuade you.

Hodgins made gestures and drew John Wishaw into his own story, almost like a stage actor. His eyes narrowed softly, but there was no kindness in them. “Shall I explain the usefulness of this transaction in an easy way again? Ritorno village is currently undergoing a continuous decline in population. It used to be famous for its mines, but mining became impossible due to an accident from several years ago. Although the railroads remain, the number of workers is decreasing and young people are leaving. It’s also not a place for tourism. It’s clear that it will turn into ruins. Part of the village was rented when the railroad was laid down. The village’s economy comes from clinging onto the money earned from that with all their might. How many people are there in the village now?”

“Around ninety...”

“That’s about the same number as a few ten-people households in a family gathering. Can they withstand the winter this year? Can they live on without sucking up to the youngsters who work away from home?”

“They must be... having a hard time.”

“I can see the finale of this tale. But there’s something that can turn it into a ‘Never-Ending Story’. Currently, our company does postal services and dispatches Auto-Memories Dolls, but there’s a project that we recently started working on. The manufacturing industry. Right now, we order letters, stamps and seal wax from other companies, but we are planning to manufacture and sell our own in the future. I’ll hire all the villagers for that, from elders to children, as long as their hands can move.” Hodgins stood up and sat on the sofa that John was on.

Although there was a distance between the two, it was short. John’s nervousness increased, but he was somewhat relieved in comparison to when Hodgins was in front of him.

It was psychologically less menacing to talk side-by-side than have a face-to-face conversation. The lesser one had to look at the other’s face, the more the tension would alleviate. Hodgins was never taught about such fact by anyone, instead acting on his own experience.

“What are you worried about?”

“Is there any realtor who could instantly close a deal after being told that the land to be bought would be transformed into a battlefield?”

“I see... There is a resistance... I get it, I get it. I totally get it. Of course, I won’t force you.” He repeated the words that empathized empathy, then lowered down the conditions already presented, “If I can’t buy the Ritorno village, I’ll buy the proposed site. I’ll buy it anyways. I explained the reason why from the get-go. I want to solve the hijacking incident happening right now faster than what the army is taking to make a move. For that, I need a place where there could be gunfire. I want to buy not only the station but the whole village and introduce business to it as an assurance. Y’know, I’m in the same position.” Next, he presented the conditions once more in a direction that appealed to emotions, “A girl who is like a daughter to me and was left in my care by the most precious friend in my life is on that train. I want to save her. I have connections with the Leidenschaftlich army. I tried asking about it, and the way things are now, it seems it’d be hard to execute a rescue if the train doesn’t stop. The best idea is to aim for a water supply point, attack, help the passengers escape and bring about the battlefield, but the military forces can’t be immediately readied just with forestalling. It would turn not into support from our own country, but into an ambush attack in a land occupied by the North’s army. Incidents like that are out of reach from the army’s handling, and the one that gets mobilized is the Special Firearms Attack Unit.”

The Special Firearms Attack Unit consisted of offense troops dispatched whenever there were cases that would be too much for the military police to deal with in domestic and overseas territories owned by Leidenschaftlich. As Leidenschaftlich, which had struggled with invasions during its long history, had always been successful in its interceptions, it would build national military bases in the invading countries as a partial compensation. During the Continental War, they had taken the role of stock areas as well. The Special Firearms Attack Unit was certain to be present in military divisions and maintained the peace and security of their vicinities. The one which would be mobilized that time was not the troop from the division near the station that the train had already left behind, but the troop from the division that lay further ahead.

“That’s why I will buy the land where a water supply point that the train is expected to pass by soon is located.”

John gulped noisily at Hodgins’s words.

“I’ll buy it and destroy the rails. I’ll create a place in which the army will be able to move around easily. It will also be advantageous for the Special Firearms Attack Unit, which will arrive before they do. The conclusion of this situation will be much faster if they come, right? Anyways, I want to make the target stop moving. It’s not about being able to do it or not. I will do it. My employee is on board. John, are you married? You aren’t, right? Then, are your parents doing well? I see. I wonder what you’d think if your parents were aboard that hijacked train with guns pointed at them in this very moment. I believe that the number of deaths will be much smaller if you help me right here and now. On the other hand, if you refuse, the risk of who-knows-how-many people dying will increase. You could be either a hero or a reaper.”

“B-But, we’d be doing that without the government’s authorization, right?”

Hodgins grinned. “The responsibility for it isn’t yours. After all, the contractor is me. If what we’re about to do works out, it’d be just me doing whatever with my own land.”

“That is... inconceivable. Are you saying you have personal troops or something? Even if you manage to stop the train by chance, rescuing the passengers would be impossible...”

Hodgins did not display frustration in front of that young man, who was completely seized with fear. On the contrary, he put a hand on the latter’s knee and spoke in an even gentler and sweeter approach than before, “I’m the one who decides whether it’s impossible or not.” However, he was clad in a forceful aura. “I’m not an idiot either. There’s no way I’d be a stranger to battlefields. I’m not proud of it, but I used to lead troops in the past.”

A scent that had been unknown to John during his entire life wafted from Hodgins to the tip of his nose. As he glanced at his side, their eyes met. The latter’s greyish blue eyes, good physique, broad shoulders and warm chest were right on sight.

“I... the fighting power that I have... I don’t wanna call it ‘fighting power’, but still... I now move on by trusting the power of the people that lend me their strength.” His hand that had rested on John’s knee grasped the latter’s own hand without his notice.

In regards of Hodgins, his field of expertise – having a way with words – was one that could capture others, but its true value did not lie there.

“Aren’t you just an intermediator? There’s only one thing I want you to do.”

At any rate, his ability to blend poison and honey in order to deceive people was unmatched.

“I want you to propose this deal to the village chief. That’s all, John.” As John remained silent, Hodgins put another hand on his knee. “I want to get to know... your human candor.”

——I’m sorry, beautiful-hearted youth.

One step short of his next chessboard move, Hodgins felt his conscience ache.

——I’m really sorry for dragging you into something like this. But there’s someone who wants to make that place into a battlefield.

His checkmate on John Wishaw was accompanied by a smile. “So, will you become one of the rescuers? If you can’t do it, I don’t mind contacting the village myself. You’re a manager and I’m a trader. We’re both proficient in talking, but if it were me, I could get the agreement of a client in five minutes. I’ll show you that skill of mine.”

Over the double lines in the contract for land renting written on parchment, the name of the new contractor – Claudia Hodgins – was printed. As the document procedures were finished soundly, Hodgins unreservedly patted John’s shoulder while the latter hung his head depressively as though wondering if they had not actually done something outrageous. Hodgins then called his company, the CH Postal Service, after being allowed to borrow the telephone.

Gilbert and Hodgins were not the only ones distressed by the current strife. After one ringback tone, Lux answered.

“Little Lux. Is everyone moving according to my instructions?”

“They’ve all been dispatched. If you give permission, President, I can call and get them to move right about now. It’s mostly the postmen, though...”

“You’ve only gathered strong ones amongst the men, so that’s okay. A fast-working secretary is the best thing...!”

“Have you already put the plan in motion?”

“Poor lands are bought often, after all. It’s easier than seducing a girl. More importantly, the station of the village I’m about to mention, Ritorno village... tell everyone to lay waste to it, no matter what method they use. We’ve talked to the villagers. Anyhow, it has to get to a point where the fact that the train won’t be able to pass it by will be clearly visible from the engine room. Don’t let them forget to wear a red cloth so that others will be able to tell them apart from the enemies. Also, tell them to fire a smoke bomb as a signal that the plan is being executed.”

“It might be late for this but, hum, even if it’s for the sake of a rescue... won’t the influential people of this country be angry at us or something...?”

“That’s right. Even if it’s my property, people will probably be upset. After all, a private business – a postal company, no less – will be taking actions that will bring big damage to the economic activities of the state management.”

“Are you all right with this?”

“What we’ll do is destroy the railroad and protect the people who will escape from the train when it suddenly stops. We won’t interfere with the military... as long as the guys who are there don’t go rampant... most likely... yeah. Even if they do, getting yelled at is my job. I have an acquaintance from a newspaper company. If this incident brings something good, I’ll ask them to write an article that will make it difficult to put the blame on us. Everyone involved will be livid, but big organizations are weak against public opinion that the army joins into, and there are matters that could be used against us, which is why I will do something about it. I won’t let anyone do anything that would end with you stranded in the streets, so stay calm. Anyways, just tell everyone that, once the locomotive stops, they must concentrate on rescuing the passengers, and run away if they think things are dangerous. That’s all. I’m about to head there on the Nighthawk that my friend arranged for me.”

“President Hodgins.”

“What is it, Little Lux?”

“I want to go too.”

“No can do. I need someone patrolling the office in my stead. I trust and count on you.”

“Violet was my first friend! I... may not be able to do anything, but… I want to go help her even if I do nothing!” Lux said with a tearful voice.

“Little Lux. It’s not like you can’t do anything. It’s because you can that I’m leaving the company to your care. What you can do now is let me stay free. There’s a lot of work that can be done as I move. That’s linked to helping Little Violet. I’ll definitely save her and come back, so just you wait.”

“Really...?”

“Really. I’m always causing you trouble, but have faith in me.”

“I do. I do, so please come back soon... as fast as possible... with everyone, I mean.”

“I will come back. To you, who are protecting my place to return to, that is.”

Eight o’clock in the evening – the time in which people’s days would come to an end and they would be arriving at their homes. In a certain town of a certain country, Cattleya Baudelaire was having an argument with the cabby of a shared carriage. It seemed that the streetlights illuminating her almost meant to reveal her anxiety just from how unreliably they shone.

“The carriage arranged for today has been completely occupied, so I can’t let you get on.” The cabby’s explanation was mixed with a candid advice.

“Like I said, I’m begging you!”

Cattleya’s nose and cheeks were dyed red. Such thing would be a given when exposed to cold weather or quarreling, but she was rosy up to her eyes as if they were bloodshot due suppressing the urge to cry.

“You know it, right, that the intercontinental train was hijacked?! I... have to go there! My... my... my colleague is... my frie... nd is... I... got to know about it, and then... and then...”

Cattleya, who had come to find out about the circumstances, had been traveling in an extreme rush after finishing work. She had already passed by the transportation facilities of two cities. When doing so, she had contacted the CH Postal Service and was finally close to the coalmine village that Hodgins had instructed her to go to. The last vehicle headed to that village was about to depart.

“Don’t say such selfish things, Young Lady! Just move already. The world doesn’t spin around you. You’re causing problems to the customers that went through the proper procedures.”

“I’d do the procedures if I could! But Violet might die! I... I... have to go help her! That girl... is super strong, but now that things have come to this, I don’t know if she’s okay! If she dies, then... That’s why I want to go! Please, I could even just go holding onto the scaffold, so let me in!”

Seeing Cattleya shed tears in exasperation, the cabby was at a loss of words. “I’d like to do so if I could...” He looked into the carriage. The people inside were giving him irritated looks, telling him to hurry up and go. However, there was a single man who stood up without glaring at him.

The carriage’s doors, which had been closed, opened up. From within it, a dark-haired man with a gentle aura poked his head out. “Hey, I’ll get down. Let her take my place.” He had a distinctive voice tone.

“Master... but... you...”

“I don’t mind it. I’ll stay in this town for one more night. Can you prepare the earliest carriage of tomorrow morning for me?” The man broke into an uplifting smile.

The cabby was exceedingly moved by his overflowing kindness. Those who worked in the service industry would mostly meet clients with troubles. Finding such a compassionate one was a first in his long life working as a cabby. His chest grew warm due to having heard about Cattleya’s situation as well.

“Hey, Young Lady! Be thankful to this kind person... dang it. Master, I’m unloading your luggage. Young Lady, give me yours.”

“E-Eh?”

“Someone is getting off so that you can replace him. So you’ll be able to hop in and go to where your friend who is about to die is at. Good for you...”

“Seriously...? T-Thank you. Thank you very much!”

“The one you should thank is that young man.” The cabby said while taking her luggage.

Still unable to believe the luck that had befallen her, she faced the man while still surprised and bowed her head. “T-Thanks! Thanks for real! I’ll pay the fee for your stay; thanks for real!”

The man let out a giggle at Cattleya’s aspect and stretched his hand out. He wiped the teardrops traveling down her cheeks with his fingertips. The act was so natural that Cattleya had not been able to react negatively. Rather, she embraced a feeling of ecstasy that was almost like how she would feel around Hodgins.

“H-Hum... erm...”

“I don’t mind it, Young Lady.”

The man’s orbs somehow held a cohesive power. The mole under his hazel eye was charming.

“You’d said ‘Violet’, hadn’t you? Violet Evergarden?”

“Yeah, you... hum, do you happen to know her?”

“That’s right. I had her write a letter for me once. I guess...” After being quiet for a brief moment as if in thought, he spoke with profound significance, “hm, that you could say... we have a deep relationship which we can’t tell people about. We’re also old friends. I’d intended to go see her in a bit, but it seems Leidenschaftlich is getting involved in stuff that reeks of fire. I’ll let some more time pass to go see her. Can you send her my regards?” With a black cloak on, the man started walking away as if melting into the night.

“W-What’s your name?! I’ll give her... your name!”

As Cattleya said so, the man turned around and laughed. His pale skin made him look like a ghost against the nightly road.

“Edward Jones.” The man waved his hand, and Cattleya waved back with a big smile.

The fact that nobody noticed he was actually a fugitive formerly on death row was one of the happenings of that night.

Also at eight o’clock, Gilbert Bougainvillea was glaring at the ground after setting his body out of the Nighthawk. It was a sight that could make one feel dizzy. They were flying quite high, as to not be spotted by the enemy.

“Found it; it’s at northwest.”

“All right, Colonel Bougainvillea. I copy.”

At northwest was a glowing object rushing through the pitch-black terrain through the rifts between the clouds. It was the intercontinental train ‘Femme Fatale’.

“This is Unit 1. We’ve found Femme Fatale. Begin descending.”

With the signal from the pilot’s radio, the total of seven Nighthawks systematically targeted the earth. In the process, they witnessed a fireball rising noisily from amongst the mountains in the direction of the train’s track.

“That’s the smoke bomb released from the water supply point that the Colonel talked about.”

“Switch to strategy number three. Unit 5 will retreat. Join the Special Firearms Attack Unit, which is waiting for the train’s arrival, and inform them of the situation. Say that the target has fortunately stopped due to a sudden forest fire or something of the sort. In order, from Unit 1 onward, the first half of the combatant team will land on the battlefield. We will seize Locomotive 1, 2 and 3, which are the heads of this thirteen-car train. Act after the emergency stop. Following the descend of the combatant team’s first half, the second half will give support and start a surprise attack from the outside after landing. There will be civilians assisting us with protecting the crew. Whoever has a red cloth around their arm is a cooperator. Don’t attack them by mistake. All right, listen up, everyone. The result of this strategy could determine the outcome of this unit’s continuity. If it’s you guys, you can probably to work things out wherever you go, but I want you to stay somewhere my eyes can reach for a little longer.”

The pilot of Unit 1 let out a chuckle. It was because Gilbert had said something off-character.

“I pray for our success. Well, first half, prepare to descend.”

With a total of six units – save for the fifth, which had now withdrawn – and a personnel of twelve people, Gilbert’s troop, the Leidenschaftlich Special Offense Force, was in formation and currently attempting to challenge the hijacked intercontinental train. Firstly, the six people in the back seats would land on top of the train and begin the suppression. The train’s Locomotive 1, 2 and 3, which operated connectedly, would each be taken control of by two people. Divided into those who would go inside and those who would stay outside, they would start their fight against the hijackers. Subsequently, the six people of the pilot group would lodge near the place scheduled as the train’s next stop. It was a plan that allowed them to give cover to the six people infiltrating the train and protect the passengers from outside.

Gilbert led the members of the Special Offense Force, which was a compilation of a few elected people, not with the army conduct of a team that followed the usual form of leadership, but as ordinary squad members that would engage in a coordinated battle, after having them memorize the instructions of his meticulous plan. Even if they were short on one person, someone else would compensate by taking on their task.

Along with the members of the first group, Gilbert jumped from the Nighthawk charging forward and fell onto the top of the running train. Low-altitude flights could not last long. He had bet on the moment, leaped, and, after desperately grabbing hold of the hull, he fixed his stance on the train.

Evidently, the people inside would notice that there were aircraft turbine sounds overhead. A man who seemed to be a hijacker from Locomotive 1 came out. Gilbert stretched his artificial left arm and punched him in the face, and as the man recoiled, he grabbed the nape of the latter’s neck, dragging him out from the window by the torso. Although a hijacker from the nearby Locomotive 2 fired his gun at Gilbert, he wound up hitting the unfortunate man whose body was half outside.

“Colonel, I’ll be going ahead.”

One of Gilbert’s troop members, who had jumped off and landed after him, twisted his small body and kicked a hijacker from Locomotive 2 that had Gilbert at gunpoint, getting into the train in the process. Gilbert threw the man shedding blood out of the locomotive and sneaked into it as well.

“Please help! Don’t kill me! If I die, so will the passengers and this locomotive!” the one who scream-cried as if begging for his life was the pitiful Samuel LaBeouf.

His assistants were dead. One young engineer assistant substitute was growing pale while attempting not to step on a corpse, and there was no sign of other hijackers.

“Please be at ease. I am a colonel of Leidenschaftlich’s army, Gilbert Bougainvillea. We are now initializing the rescue operation of this train’s passengers.”

“A-An ally? Someone from the military?” He had probably been bracing himself the whole time, since he shed a single tear with a clearly relieved expression.

Gilbert gently tapped his shoulder. “You were quite brave. It would have been the worst possible situation had you become distraught. You’re worthy of a medal.”

The sincerity in Gilbert’s facial traits and the aura surrounding him brought about a coaxing effect unlike the one Hodgins’s would. Anyone would be overcome with emotion upon being told such things by a beautiful soldier who had stretched out a helping hand to them during critical circumstances. Extremely touched, Samuel started trembling.

“Engineer, what is your name?”

“Sa-Samuel, Colonel.”

“Mister Samuel. Seeing you as a hero of Leidenschaftlich, there’s a favor I want to ask. What’s the next water supply point?”

“It’s Ritorno.”

“There’s another of our battalions in that place. There will be a big signal, so please make an emergency stop before entering the station’s premises.”

“‘S-Signal’, you say?”

“You will know the signal when you see it. After the stop, please evacuate from here and run to the direction of the village.”

Samuel and his assistant looked at each other.

“But, the passengers... and also... my other colleagues...” Samuel looked down at the bodies of his former co-workers.

“Even if they aren’t alive anymore, I want to hand them over to their families.” The two said in unison.

“Everything will be fine. Another unit of the army is supposed to arrive besides ours. Once everything is over, the ones who have passed on and you two will be delivered back to our country. However, I want those who can still move their legs to evacuate temporarily on their own. People with red cloths on their arms are overseeing the evacuation. Please go along with them.”

Perhaps due to feeling comforted, Samuel heaved a huge sigh. However, as though to shake off his relief, gunshots could be heard from somewhere.

——Is someone... in the middle of a fight?

Gilbert had ordered his subordinates to mingle with the turmoil of the emergency stop and crush the enemies after blowing smoke shells inside the cars. Should there be attacks from within Locomotive 3 onward, they would be as much of an obstacle as possible. Presently, the number of members who had come first was of six people. Out of the recruits selected for that elite troop, each bore combat power equal to ten ordinary soldiers.

“I think... this is probably from outside. Given the sound.”

Being told so by Samuel, Gilbert tried to set his head out the window. His face was hit by tree branches.

“Since a while ago, something’s been off. I’ve been hearing shouts. I... have been praised since I was little only for my good ears, so even if it’s from very far, I can hear people cursing.”

“You should be more proud of yourself. If what you say is true, we must aid whoever isn’t in the criminals’ side. Sorry. I’m going upstairs. Again, don’t forget your mission.”

At Gilbert’s words, Samuel nodded while showing a smile that denoted both delight and nervousness.

Despite hindered by the air resistance, Gilbert climbed onto the top of the train once more. The land on which the railway had been built probably used to have a flower garden in the past. Despite having been trampled on, the petals of the flowers that still held life scattered in the wind that opposed the train’s course. Within the world of pure darkness, colors such as white, blue, yellow, red and orange not yet mowed by autumn flew about. Although they would eventually be reduced to dust, they created a stunning sight that decorated part of the world until their very end. Far beyond the rich hues, Gilbert found who he was looking for.

“Colonel, does the situation require reinforcements?!” The sixth unit descended after the others, and Gilbert’s pair had just landed as if on cue.

Gilbert stopped him with a hand. “Idris. It seems a civilian is fighting against the hijackers... We should have noticed it earlier.”

“We were frantic about our fall during the landing, after all. I also didn’t see anything. Well, then...”

“I will go. I will be nominating you as the next commander. If I by any chance do not return, you take charge.”

“Do you mean this seriously?”

“I do.”

“I have enough talent to get promotions and surpass you soon. Please, come back safely and continue standing in front of me. If I don’t have someone to chase...”

Instead of replying, Gilbert knocked his shoulder with a fist.

The group of people wearing blue coats erased the figure of the person he sought. Moreover, he would have to go all the way from the foremost car to get to her. It would take time.

Gilbert broke into run without hesitation.

Still at around eight o’clock, bullets flew from the bayonets of the chivalric men. Though they scratched Violet’s body, she dodged the direct hits and charged forward.

Scuffling above a moving vehicle against such a number of people was testing. Perhaps the other party was aware of that much, as someone other than the chivalric leader attacked first. Violet ran as if being sucked in by him. He defended himself from the saber swung down at him with the bayonet, but Violet was able to avoid the several gunshots by taking a large distance, and then started running adroitly once again.

“For our war comrades that were killed by you!”

Violet threw the sheath at the face of the man who blurted that out and dealt him a jump-kick instead of slashing him. The chivalric man, whose legs had lost balance, seemed to be about to collapse, but managed to stand still. He grinned and pulled the bayonet’s trigger.

A bullet was fired. With her eyes wide, Violet avoided it just by swiftly moving her neck. Her ribbons flew away. Blood welled from her bundle of braids and her hair came undone. Her ear had been grazed. The bleeding gusted, but she did not let any agonized sounds out.

Violet kicked the man in the chest with the tip of her boot. He screamed as he fell. However, the next person to go down was Violet herself. Even though she took on the repeated bayonet blows raining onto her back with the saber, she lost in weight. The saber itself was gone from her hands after being shot at.

The knight who had attacked Violet’s back found her as she somehow managed to cling to a window frame. When a surprised passenger tried to open said window, she inserted a hand into the gap and pushed it open with her mechanical arm. Just like that, she entered Passenger Car 2.

“What happened?!”

“That woman, she went inside...”

The remaining chivalric men realized that the lights of the Passenger Car 2, which had been shining from below their feet, were suddenly gone. The passengers were screaming.

“S-Should we go back in?”

“Wait.”

The other two men were silenced by the chivalric leader’s order of restraint.

Eventually, they could no longer hear any screams from the window that Violet had vanished into. They could not catch a single noise.

The chivalric leader was deep in thought. What kind of mess would the witch-like former girl soldier make next?

“Who... is down there?”

“Someone from the deployment armed organization that we hired.”

“There were people from it in the Panoramic Seats Car and Dining Car 1 too. But, the people positioned in these last two cars chased that woman up here... and were defeated. They’re supposedly being replaced, though.”

As the lights went off again, screams intensified from the Panoramic Seats Car and Dining Car 1, respectively. And then, they became quiet.

The chivalric leader felt goosebumps under his blue cloak at such bizarre phenomenon-like happenings. “She’s moving.”

‘Femme Fatale’ was a thirteen-car train composed, from front to back, of Locomotive 1, 2 and 3, Single-Room Sleeping Car 1 and 2, Simple Sleeping Car 1 and 2, Passenger Car 1 and 2, Panoramic Seats Car, Dining Car 1 and 2, and a freight car. Violet had jumped into Passenger Car 2. And then, she had probably moved on to Panoramic Seats Car and Dining Car 1. She herself had emptied Dining Car 2. What would she do by running off to a place that had nothing?

“Leader, maybe we really should go inside...” one of the chivalric men attempted to say, but his knee collapsed and he dropped down. A hole had been caved in it.

More gunshots followed suit.

“Get down!”

Bullets brushed their heads.

The unharmed chivalric man extended a hand to the injured one. The palm that had stretched out to help was shot.

“Retreat! Go in and call for reinforcements!”

“But, Leader—”

“Bring a gun of larger caliber!”

The subordinates crawled towards the concatenation while pressing down their fresh wounds.

The direction where the bullet had come from was undoubtedly from the last car. The shooting had been done in succession, but ceased yet again. The eyes of the chivalric leader could see something blossoming from within the darkness.

“So they have escaped? I will pursue them later. Well, then, one more time.” ‘It’ politely called out to him and waited for him to stand up.

The woman was a battlefield conductor. She played melodies through concocting attacks, enhancing the emotions of her spectators with overwhelming martial arts, flabbergasting them with unimaginable actions and dominating the area completely. No matter how wet with blood her hair was, how torn her clothes were, or how many injuries she earned...

“Well, then, one more time.”

...she did not stop fighting. The chivalric leader had come to clearly understand why she was nicknamed the Warrior Maiden of Leidenschaftlich.

“Here I go, Major.”

Violet was likely out of bullets. She discarded the riffle that she had stolen from an enemy downstairs. She then took out a dagger. The weapon of her opponent, the chivalric leader, was a bayonet. The weight of their swing was different.

The two clashed with one another without saying anything. She dealt him consecutive blows with her knife-edge, but in the end, the dagger lost to the bayonet in weight and snapped. Violet disposed of the weapon that she became unable to use, tossing it away with her prosthetic arm without even sparing it a glance. It scratched the chivalric leader’s face, yet he, too, indomitably swung the bayonet from the side and hammered Violet’s body with it. As her posture crumbled with the impact, more strikes ensued. As Violet dodged from the tip of the bayonet’s blade, her chest was cut. She instantly set her hand out, swaying her weight just like that, turning her body over and taking some distance. Perhaps because he was indeed superior to the others, the attacks from the leader were different from theirs in agility.

Violet looked for weapons at hand. She reached into her skirt and pulled a ballistic knife out of the knife holder fastened around her thigh.

The needles once concealed in her hair had disappeared back when her hairdo had come undone. The ballistic knife was the last weapon. After it, she only had her fists.

“Just how many weapons do you have hidden within your person?”

“They are for self-defense.” With her breath ragged like that of a beast, Violet stepped backwards. She knew that the next attack would be an important blow to determine the outcome of the battle. Although she was up against someone inferior to her in fighting power, anyone would be breathing heavily after continuously standing up and battling to that point. Regardless, she did not have so much as a teaspoon of will to lose.

That was until she realized something that had been supposed to be on her exposed collar was gone. Her rough breathing halted. Her line of sight darted about as she withdrew.

“Although I am your enemy, I admire your thirst for victory. You know not to give up.”

It was not something she should worry about in such circumstances. Nevertheless, her eyes searched for the brooch. She was unable to immediately find the object that twinkled, mismatched and beautiful, on top of the train.

“It is not... as if I wish to win. By winning this fight, there is not a single thing I would gain.” Violet spoke unwittingly fast. She should not let him realize that she was searching for something.

“Then what do you seek through fighting?”

“Nothing, it’s just that a situation in which I have to fight has been created. That’s why I do so. To me, fighting is living. If I lose, it only means I will die.”

“You’re saying there’s no emotion in that?”

“I do not know. I... know nothing about myself. I am a former soldier, but I do not remember anything from before becoming one. It might be late at this point, but I wonder... if it isn’t strange for me not to remember anything like this. I don’t know where I was born, whose child I am or what my name used to be. But, whether or not any of that has troubled me, I would say it never once did. That... That...” While speaking, Violet found the brooch. It bumped right against the chivalric leader’s feet.

He noticed it as well.

“That is because... I have been waiting for something that would cancel all of it out.”

She pushed down and killed the feeling that she wanted to rush over to and take hold of.

“Just when I thought that the talk was getting long... so this is it?” The leader signaled for her to halt with his palm while picking it up. It was his first time seeing that it belonged to someone. “Is it something important?”

Would he throw it away if she nodded at that? Or would he give it back? Violet did not know. However, if she were in his shoes and had someone she must save and things she must do no matter what after that battle, doubtlessly, she would have to try imagining herself in his position in order to understand his thinking.

If she were him...

“Come get it!”

...that object would become a mere bait to attract her enemy, regardless of what kinds of feelings it was packed with.

The brooch was tossed into the air. Violet instantly broke into run. The chivalric leader’s bayonet came at her. Violet aimed at his feet and flung the ballistic knife. Perhaps he had anticipated that much, as he repelled it as if outriding it. In that meantime, Violet grabbed the brooch. The gem floating in the night sky was the same as her Lord’s eyes, which she had defined as the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Idiot!!”

She prevented an attack with her left arm, which was not the one gripping the brooch. As she lost her center of gravity due to consecutive blows, she fell back one, two, three steps. And then, finally, Violet’s left arm broke apart, spewing out many of its parts. They were smashed and severed from her in a way that made them seem like scattering petals.

Thump, thump, thump. Violet felt her heartbeats echo unpleasantly in her ears.

For some reason, time was flowing slowly. The chivalric leader swung down his saber while raising his voice as he spouted some sort of insult at her. Her back hit the train’s scaffold. As he stepped on her stomach with his military shoe, she was unable to move. A few seconds thereafter, she would be skewered. Everything was unfolding, but it was as if it all were in slow motion.

Rather than the tip of the blade approaching her, Violet stared at the emerald brooch that she had not let go of until the very end. It was firmly grasped within her right hand. She had wanted to gaze into that green during her last moments were her eyes open while she was still alive.

Its shine was that person himself.

——Major.

He would not go anywhere anymore.

——Major.

They would not be apart anymore.

——Major, I... lived.

That made her extremely ‘happy’.

——Major, do you remember... that you embraced me when we first met? You had feared me for a long time. Beasts can sense that sort of fright very keenly. Even so, you kept me by your side. Most likely... I... definitely... had been thrown away because I would settle in the hands of anybody. Even so, I had wanted to be useful because you needed me. The days in which I was unable to see you were of continuous lacking, as well as experiences that seemed to give place to more of it. I had always wondered why you had told others to say that you had passed on. One day, should I have managed to meet you, I had wanted to reply to your question of “why can’t you understand my feelings” and to the words “I love you”. Major, was I... was your Violet... still loved by you?

Rather than the sound of bones and flesh being severed, gunshots that seemed to cut through the wind ensued. The bayonet disappeared from Violet’s line of sight. The arm of the chivalric leader was abruptly swung as if it were a toy, and he was kicked to the opposite direction.

Someone was fighting back.

The chivalric leader asked in shouts who the third person was, but did not receive an answer. The other silently drew his saber and shielded Violet. He then began to attack. At such way of handling a blade as he readied it and the back that she had always walked along with, Violet swallowed her breath.

“Violet, are you alive!?”

That voice was the exact one Violet would replay in her head as to not forget it. Her heartbeats reverberated intensely. Albeit forcefully, she raised her body.

The man cut down the squad leader with his saber and turned on his heels towards her with a frantic expression. Before her eyes was a person unlike how he used to be in the days that she had contact with him. His appearance had changed greatly from when the two of them had first met. However, there was one thing that remained intact: the fact that once blue and green orbs locked with one another, time would halt between them for just a little while. It was as if they meant to say, “Time, stay still. You are beautiful.”

Such was how things were from the very start.

“Major!”

From the very start, the two of them had been born to meet by chance in that manner.

Gilbert dashed towards Violet, supporting her frame. “Come, Violet.” He knelt down, and, after lifting her squatted body and carrying her sideways, he took off his sword belt and wrapped it around his arm. He then wrapped it around Violet’s. “I will... explain the circumstances later. There are many things that I want to apologize to you for. But for now, forgive what I’m going to do... Don’t ever let go.”

Violet recalled what she had been firmly grasping – the emerald brooch that she had retrieved hastily during the fight. She slowly unveiled her fingers and showed it to Gilbert. She then looked straight at him. While only he was reflected within that blue, her lips shaking, she was unable to muster any word out. She merely wished to inform him that she had kept the item.

Upon seeing the emerald brooch, Gilbert’s eyes distorted bitterly. “You... still had this?” His demeanor as he took the brooch from Violet’s palm and put it back on her as if to sew back together her blouse, which had been ripped on the chest area, was the same as of his past self.

“...jor.” She attempted to say something to him – anything would do. “Major!”

However, the chivalric leader, who was supposed to be lying down, was trying to stand up. Supported by one of his injured underlings, he pointed a large-caliber shotgun at them. “You dog of Leidenschaftlich...!” His neck bled with the blow from Gilbert’s blade. He spewed blood bubbles. “I’ll erase you! I’ll erase the two of you at once! You’re needless in this realm! Disappear from our world! Disappear! Disappear! Disappear!”

Either side would be unable to fight without receiving assistance. It was too late to convince the other party to put an end to the conflict. Neither could shrink back.

“Major, please leave me behind.” Violet said without hesitation. If releasing her and letting her fall to the ground would make things easier, since it was him, he would definitely be able to overcome the situation. That was what she believed.

“I told you not to let go.” Gilbert shook his head. His grip on Violet’s arm and torso grew even stronger. He then raised his other, prosthetic hand from above the train.

The chivalric leader laughed. He had most likely concluded that the embracing pair had chosen to die together.

“Major... then, please,” Violet gazed at her Lord, who was far more beautiful than the gem that she had been unceasingly protecting, “do not go anywhere.”

The shotgun was aimed at them.

“Please, stay by my side... I do not mind however you treat me. I simply want to be with you. That is all. Nothing else... is necessary. Major, I...”

She had learned how to write and could speak countless words, yet they would not properly come out in front of the person she truly cherished.

“...want to be together with you.”

The one standing there was not a doll. It was a girl who yearned for love from only one man.

“I’m not going anywhere... I need you. I’ll be by your side...!” Gilbert Bougainvillea answered the plea as if yelling.

It was because something other than a bullet had flown into their line of sight.

At twenty minutes past eight o’clock, Samuel LaBeouf, who worked as an engineer in the unfortunate intercontinental train, obeyed the command from the Leidenschaftlich colonel that had showed up like an electric shock and continued his task while waiting for the signal. What on Earth would said signal be? Even though he had been told that he would immediately know once he saw it, what should he do if he accidentally missed it?

Nevertheless, his worry was unnecessary. After all, an occurrence that would supposedly break the current situation in the deadlock awaited him.

An ostentatious blast arose, explosion lights scattering in the darkness of the night. At such a timing, a terrible catastrophe was happening ahead, in Ritorno village.

“What’s that?! Stop, stop! Emergency stop!”

The station was on fire.

Back at seven hours and fifty minutes, an attractive young man with sandy blond hair and sky blue eyes was hanging up the phone with an “I got it”. His outfit was slightly mismatched for the small assembly place of a desolate village.

“Benedict, what did President Hodgins say?” inquired a hard-faced, equipped man with black skin and a thinly shaved hairdo in the form of a crucifix, wearing a striped shirt and shoulder holsters.

“The old man is coming here. He gave us three orders. One: to lay waste to this village’s station in a flashy way, so that it will be visible from the train heading towards it. Two: to aid the passengers and consequently rescue V. Three: to suppress that armed group as they will likely put up resistance. A contract has already been sealed by law. This land belongs to our company. He said it’s okay to wreck it without hesitation. Everybody, let’s go save V!”

During the convocation from Lux, who was in the headquarters, she had attempted to make the CH employees there congregated take guns. In response to that, everyone had started noisily frolicking as if they were in a festival.

Each of them had different ages and skin colors. They were the people Hodgins had gathered and described as “all weirdoes with their own circumstances”. The ones who had been called and rushed to that assembly spot were them – the postmen who made deliveries throughout the entire continent. It was unthinkable that they were about to participate in a dangerous rescue operation by an emergency order from their boss. Their attitude was closer to drunkards at a bar.

In contrast to them, a funeral-like atmosphere loomed over the villagers of Ritorno. It was only the expected, for a bizarre postal agency staff carrying weapons had suddenly informed them that their village’s station would be destroyed.

Benedict walked over to the oldest woman in their midst, who was seated on a chair. “Granny, we’ll make a bit of a fuss. If there are people amongst the villagers who can treat the wounded, I want you to bring them along if you can.”

“You’re already going to make me work?” It was an accusing manner of speech.

Benedict frowned. “You guys were convinced by our good-for-nothing President’s words and sold this, right? Aren’t you well-off, since every single person in this village is gonna be employed by our office? Granny, you’re our colleague too. You’re now a company employee, so of course we’ll make you work. If you suspect we’re deceiving you, you’re wrong.” With the click of his cross-shaped heels resounding, he stood in front of the village chief, abruptly bringing his face close to hers. “You’re mistaking that with being protected. If that old man thinks about doing something, he can use some pretty awful methods. But he didn’t do so and instead made proper negotiations, and also complied with the price discussions, right? The Old Man... the President treats people crudely, but he treasures his workers. Right now, we’re on the move for the sake of an employee that he’s super attached to as if she were his daughter. She’s like a little sister to me too. We cherish her. So don’t be so scared. Stand tall.”

“That’s right. The President definitely rewards hard work with payment and support. The industry will function here only in the future. At the outset, lifesaving will be our duty, Chief.” Another postman added, as if to assist Benedict’s rough persuasion.

“Are you really going to do this?”

“We are. Once it’s said we’ll do it, we definitely will. And if we’re beaten, we’ll do it over. That’s what our agency is about.”

“You don’t hate it, right?”

“Oh, what’s that? You can put on a strong face too?”

“I’m a woman born and raised in coalmines. What a foolish question.”

Even though a huge incident was about to begin, the air surrounding them was light, and everyone walked one after the other towards the station in a somewhat calm atmosphere. In spite of them having confronted the problem of how to break down the station, the chief offered the remaining coalmine explosives that were no longer used.

“Granny, you’re getting into it, huh?” Benedict gave the village chief a thumbs-up to show his gratitude.

However, there seemed to be several people with traumas prevenient from detonations, and so most of the villagers were merely observing from afar and the postmen were the ones who installed the explosives.

“I... When I was born, the mine had already been closed, so it’s my first time seeing an explosion!”

Children making merry were the sole spectators that approached the area.

As he was caused to step back, Benedict commented, “Good for you.”

“I’m bad at dealing with adults, but this is amazing!”

“You’re bad with adults?”

“Before I was born, there was a blast in our coalmine and it’s still burning even now. And it’s said that a lot of people died in it. I’ve never seen my grandfathers. Both died from that.”

“Hmm...”

“It’s already been buried, yet it’s the only spot that doesn’t get covered by snow during the winter. It’s super hot. I can’t make too much fun of it when I think about how my grandpas are probably down there, though. It’s better not to be a coal miner, but I don’t like being poor either.”

“Is that so...?” Benedict put a hand on the head of the child that attempted to continue speaking and ruffled his hair. He looked one more time at the village chief, who was sitting on a chair that someone had arranged for her.

“Are the preparations done?”

“Yeah.”

“This is importunate of me, but your President really will compensate us plenty for this matter, won’t he...? I’ve gotten worried. Although this is lifesaving... our station might be just one of the train’s passage points, but if it gets destroyed, Leidenschaftlich most likely won’t stay quiet.”

“I’m telling you not to fret, aren’t I?” Benedict put a hand on his hip, and after a brief moment, he laughed mockingly. It was probably because the person in question had surfaced in his mind. “He’s incredible. When he gotta do something, he does it. He’s a good man. So be at ease.” He said reassuringly.

“Is that true...? I sold the village because surviving our winter would cost us a lot... I want the children leaving this place as immigrants to build their own lives, too. Your job will be the last straw of this favor. I will probably be able to meet your President eventually, but you tell him as well.”

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him too.”

“I’m counting on you.” A smile appeared on her wrinkle-covered face. Surely, there were wrinkles that she had acquired not simply from aging, but from numerous hardships.

“Granny,” Benedict raised a thumb, “you’re a woman of the coalmines, right? Don’t get scared of some big fireworks. I like strong women.”

“Kids shouldn’t talk so haughtily.” The village chief laughed. Perhaps due to laughing too much, tears formed thinly in the corners of her eyes.

A while thereafter, a flicker was ignited on the fuse line. The way it danced in the middle of the night was like a blaze serpent.

At Benedict’s call, everyone started the countdown, “Five, four, three, two, one!”

Heat, wind and blares surged and overwhelmed the people present. Hot gusts and shock waves burst up, the women letting out screams. The rail flew away and the station’s building collapsed, covered in flames. It was a spectacular sight. Still, what an occurrence. Like a flower blooming in the evening, the destruction was somewhat beautiful. Long accustomed to explosions, the elderly ladies clapped their hands, the children wept, and the CH postal service’s personnel cheered while blowing whistles. Each then took back their weapons.

“It might be late to say this, but that doesn’t seem like a job postmen should be doing.”

“Well, it’s fine from time to time, right? Considering my previous occupation, I would never refuse a request from the President, since he brought me back into decency.”

“Are we decent, though? By the way, are we gonna receive any bonuses for going through this danger?”

“It’s sweltering. Shouldn’t we extinguish that fire before the rescue? Benedict, hey, Leader.”

“Y’all are noisy. Listen. Make sure you don’t get mistaken and shot by the army. No accidental shootings, either. Friendly fire is the worst. Don’t get carried away and do anything radical. Also, put on the identifier. If any of you find V, tell me immediately. She’ll get a lecture for giving us this trouble. Anyways, our main objective is V!”

The train’s sounds could be heard in the distance.

Benedict wrapped a red cloth around his arm. “Welp, after the fireworks, comes the festival.” With his pistols ready, he licked his lips.

At twenty minutes past eight o’clock, the after-effects of the massive explosion also reached Violet and Gilbert. Scattering light and flames soared like flowers from within the pitch-darkness ahead. A part of the station’s roof, which had been blown up, came flying and directly struck the backs of the chivalric leader and his subordinate. The trigger was pulled, yet the bullet disappeared into the wrong direction. As the two had not been prepared to even hold themselves in place, with expressions of surprise, they hit the car frame and rolled down. Violet had instantly attempted to offer her hand to them as they crossed her side, but such arm was the damaged one.

“Violet, don’t let go!”

Gilbert endured the impact until the train completely came to a stop while supporting Violet. He could catch the screams of the passengers. The train stopped without turning over, just barely about to collide with the station.

Without a moment’s delay, gunshots could be heard. A smoke curtain was leaking out of the train’s front. Members of Leidenschaftlich’s Special Offense Force were beginning to take control of it by seizing the opportunity, as Gilbert had. Additionally, while avoiding obstacles in the station, not just one but several motorcycles leaped towards the train. To say they were leaping was an odd manner of speech, but there was no helping it since it was happening in the literal sense. They were coming both as single riders and in pairs, but there was one thing all of them had in common.

“Everyone who wants to run away, come here!”

They were employees of the CH Postal Service. Taking advantage of the commotion, they rode the motorcycles that were normally used for delivering letters and started guiding those who were trying to escape towards the direction of the village. Amongst them was a strong man who snipped back at the hijackers that were shooting intensely through the window glasses. It was Violet’s colleague, Benedict. The other Leidenschaftlich battalion, which acted as reinforcement to the rescue, made its appearance as well.

Gilbert exhaled a sigh at the sight before him. So did Violet. It seemed that all the measures to protect the passengers were working finely.

In their peace of mind, the two were petrified for a while. After all, the scene was frighteningly whimsical. Ashes, sparks and fire flashes dissipated through the wind in the darkness of the sky, dancing as they rained down.

Gilbert took off the sword belt he had tied around Violet. He then striped the jacket of his battle uniform and put it over her shoulders. “Violet.”

It seemed dangerous to get down in such conditions. The next action Gilbert was supposed to take was to contour the turmoil and entrust Violet to the rescuing team of postmen. He also had to return to the battle and help suppress the chaos.

“Major.”

“Violet, listen.”

“I’ll land you a hand, so you have to get up.” was what he had been about to say, but the words retreated to the back of his throat as he looked at her.

Violet’s eyes flickered. The tears she had accumulated seemed about to flood even now.

“Major...” She steadfastly held onto her chest area, where her brooch rested on.

Gilbert Bougainvillea was right in front of her eyes. Just that fact made the sound of her heartbeats loud in a way not even the battlefield could manage.

“I will fight too. You have come to save the civilians, right?” Perhaps because she had always been disciplining herself into being as a machine, Violet attempted to be of use to Gilbert even in such circumstances.

“You’re a part of them.”

“I am... Major’s... tool.”

“You’re no tool. You, who I am to protect, should not fight. That duty is mine as the Colonel of Leidenschaftlich’s army, Gilbert Bougainvillea. It is also the job of my subordinates. Violet, I will deliver you to a safe spot now.”

Violet’s face was of someone who had received a blow. “Colonel... Major... Colonel... Gil... bert.”

“I don’t mind being called ‘Major’.”

“Ma... j... Gilbert...” Violet wound up hiding her face with her right hand. Tears traveled down the gaps between her fingers.

She was currently ‘sad’.

“If... I am not a tool, why... did you say you would not let go...?”

Being told that he would not to let go had made her ‘contented’. However, being denied of her own reason of existence was ‘sorrowful’. If he had showed himself to her once again, why would he not allow her to go back to being a tool? In Violet’s perspective, she was aware that her value lay only within violence.

“Violet.”

As she forever swayed between being a tool and a person, at that moment, Gilbert attempted once again to convey something to the girl who did not know love.

“I made your life a mess. I let you go to war. I hurt you. I regretted it so much that I thought of killing myself. Yet I knew that you had always been searching for me. Even though I had decided to protect you from afar, today, I couldn’t hold back and ended up coming. I am... not the sort of man you take me to be. Not a magnificent lord, nor an honorable individual. I’m definitely not worthy of you.”

That his love would not run out, no matter what she was, wherever she was living or even if she were a fool.

“Still, even now, I love you as a person. To me, you’re not a tool.”

“Even... if I... am not... a tool...?”

“I am not your master anymore, either. Regardless, I want you to let me stay by your side.”

Silence.

“Violet?”

Violet allowed something that seemed to fiercely burn her throat to pass through. Her tears were feverish. They were proof of her feelings, which she had only shed a number of times that could be counted with one hand in her life.

The first time she had cried had been when she used to be a girl soldier. She was a young female tool with beautiful eyes of gem-like blue irises and golden lashes.

“I...”

Her current self no longer had the same stature as when she and Gilbert had first met. Neither was her appearance the same as when she had been to the battlefields. Her hair had grown lengthier and she had become the graceful and dignified young woman who now stood before him. With the grown-up figure of the girl he had loved, as the existence whose hand he had let go of, she now stood before Gilbert.

“I...”

After a few years had gone by, she had finally arrived at the place where she would be able to transmit her feelings.

“Had not understood at first... the meaning of Major leaving me, handing me over to the Evergarden couple, and entrusting me to President Hodgins. Or the reason you had told me to become free. I merely... wondered all the while about why you had not discarded me, despite the fact I was not needed. I did not understand... any of your feelings, Major. Even now, Major, despite you telling me this, I find myself thinking that I am better off as a tool. I... I am the one... who is not worthy of you, Major... My existence is... like some kind of failed product that was created by mistake. That is why the thoughts of people, too... But...”

Large teardrops streamed from her blue eyes. They trailed along her chin, pouring onto her emerald brooch.

“I have become able to somewhat feel. With this new life, which Major granted me, it was only little by little, but I have become able to understand. The sadness and joy... pride, fear, everything... that someone can feel towards another person... I do not fathom those as my own, however. But through writing on others’ behalf, and through the people I meet, I can feel them. Major, I... gradually... have also come to understand... the things you say.”

The things he had said. The things he had told her about.

“If I... had done more for you when you were younger, I wonder if you would have interest in these things.”

“Even if... you think that... to me, you are...”

“Do you... want my orders that much?”

“Why... do you think of everything as an order no matter what?! Do you... really believe I see you as a tool? If that were the case, I would not have held the little you in my arms or made sure that no one would mess with you as you grew up! Regardless of anything, you don’t realize... how I feel... about you. Normally... anyone would... surely understand. The reason why I’m angry and why I’m suffering is you. Still, you don’t comprehend a single fraction of that.”

“Do you not have feelings? That’s not it, right? It’s not as if you have none. Isn’t that right? If you don’t have feelings, then what is this expression? You can make a face like that, can’t you? You have feelings. You have... a heart just like mine, right!?”

“To love is... to think that you... want to protect someone the most in the world.”

“You’re important... and precious. I don’t ever want you to be hurt. I want you to be happy. I want you to be well. That’s why, Violet... you should live on and become free. Escape from the military and live your life. You’ll be fine even if I’m not around. Violet, I love you. Please live.”

“I have come... to understand them.” Before she realized, her voice had deflated as if withering. Her field of vision was blurring as well. Tears continued to spill from Violet’s blue eyes. The lips that used to say she did not understand feelings mustered different words, “I understand... ‘I love you’... a little as well.”

She did not understand everything yet. Nevertheless, without denying any of it, she meant to understand it from then on. The motive behind her intention of making such efforts was being told that she was loved by Gilbert Bougainvillea.

Gilbert’s chest was tight with the emotions going rampant in it. A thin film of tears spread in his eyes from grief and delight.

“Violet.” Gilbert stretched his hand out.

His fingertips halted halfway. He had suddenly become afraid of touching her body – something he had had no time to feel just a moment before since he, in order to protect her, had held onto her with deathly desperation.

Would she accept him? She was Gilbert’s tool no more. Neither was she a small child. He could not touch her so easily.

Violet Evergarden – one living being, the only woman he loved in the world – stood there. It was Gilbert’s first time ever loving someone. He used not to know the intricacies of loving and being loved.

Within the sounds of battle that suited the two of them, something was finally commencing.

Gilbert adored her crying figure so much he could not help himself. “Violet, I want to wipe your tears.”

At the request, Violet hid her face within her hand even more. Surely she disliked being seen weeping. In her own reasoning, she dreaded the possibility of being hated by the man in front of her through any and each one of her actions. She instinctively assumed that, although love was something gentle, it was also fragile.

“Violet, please. Show me your face. No matter what form you take, my feelings towards you won’t change.” As she did not look his way, Gilbert said while laughing shyly, “See, I’m on the verge of crying too.”

In truth, his tears were already pouring. He was unable to poise himself. There was no stopping them. Tears formed and fell, formed and fell. Just as his feelings for her, they could not be impeded.

“Violet.”

Violet’s body shuddered as her name was called – just called – by him.

“It’s fine if it’s little by little. If you... are coming... to understand it, I will wait any amount of time. Little by little is okay. I won’t... pry for an answer immediately. Until you say ‘I understand’... I will wait however long it takes... only for you. Today, I’d wanted to tell you ‘I love you’ once again, but it’s not as if I had desired anything from you in return.”

His tears wound up spilling once again.

“I... will not steal from you anymore, and I don’t wish to do anything other than give. If, one day, you ever come to think that you ‘understood’, I want you to accept my love. Violet.” The man said to the sobbing girl, who attempted to suppress her tears with her artificial arm, “I love you. Let me dry your tears.”

The one behind the wrist that he took hold of and moved away was not a taciturn, expressionless and truly machine-like Auto-Memories Doll. Instead, it was a human child who was crying out of slight happiness and fear from receiving the ‘number one’ form of love from someone for the first time.

Gilbert embraced Violet, who shed tears while trembling, after slowly caressing her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He whispered as more tears overflowed.

“Violet, I love you.” 

‘Auto-Memories Doll’. It had been a long time since such name had caused a scandal.

The creator was the researcher of mechanical dolls, Professor Orland. His wife, Molly, was a novelist, and all had started once she had posteriorly lost her sight. After becoming a blind woman, Molly was extremely depressed for being unable to write novels, which was the meaning of her life, and had grown weaker with each day. Unable to bear seeing such a thing, Professor Orland had built the first Auto-Memories Doll. It was meant for processing everything said by the voice of its established master, as well as writing down words said by human voices – in other words, a machine that served for ‘amanuensis’.

Although he had only meant to make one for his beloved wife, it had later become well-known with the support of a great amount of people. Currently, Auto-Memories Dolls were sold at a reasonably low price, and there were types that could be rented or borrowed.

Those who worked with amanuensis were referred to as ‘Auto-Memories Dolls’ around the world. It was a profession revered by many since ancient times.

In the industry that dealt with Auto-Memories Dolls, there was a particularly famous individual. Her voice had a sweet ring to it and matched her beauty. She was a female Auto-Memories Doll with golden hair and blue eyes.

Her workplace was CH Postal Service from a grandiose southern country, Leidenschaftlich. It was a notorious company, which had received awarding from the Army Ministry for its cooperation in resolving the hijacking incident of a certain train. The young president of CH Postal Service had been featured in the newspapers of the time bringing supplies to the scene. The postmen had worked to rescue the passengers. A brunette of impressive beauty had wailed while hugging the wounded and wrapping them in blankets.

The company had had several photos of it published, but it was not as if they had any connection to her popularity. If anything, to say that the company was known because she was part of it was more accurate. Stamps with the name of the flower that she had been named after were best-selling items out of the ones produced by CH Postal Service. From one person to another, the rumors about her knew not where to stop.

Exactly what kind of being was she, you ask? The impressions from those who had actually met her were many. Some would say her voice was pleasant. Some would say her handwriting was pretty. Some would say their hearts were saved by her. Some would praise her charms by claiming they had been bewitched by her.

Have you become interested in requesting her services? I shall tell you how to hire her. If you wish to meet her, all you must do is give a call. If you search in a telephone book for a postal company in the name of ‘Hodgins’, you should be able to find it right away. Most likely, a young woman with a still childish and intellectual manner of speech will immediately hear your requirements through the phone. When inquired if you have preference for any Auto-Memories Doll, say her name. You might be left in the waiting list, but an Auto-Memories Doll who is worth waiting for shall be sent to you in the future. As long as a customer wishes, she will appear anywhere anytime.

“I rush to wherever my clients might desire. I am from the Auto-Memories Doll service, Violet Evergarden.”

She was but a slightly strange girl.

[qqueenofhades]

The Rose and Thorn: Chapter I

summary:  Sequel to The Dark Horizon. The New World, 1740: Killian and Emma Jones have lived in peace with their family for many years, their pirate past long behind them. But with English wars, Spanish plots, rumors of a second Jacobite rising, and the secret of the lost treasure of Skeleton Island, they and their son and daughter are in for a dangerous new adventure. OUAT/Black Sails. rating: M status: WIP available: FF.net and AO3 notes: I said I was not going to write any more CS fic. That lasted exactly two days after finishing TDH. So, I gave in to the rabid plot bunny. This story will focus a bit more on the kids, but Killian and Emma will absolutely be there and have a role, and I am excited to continue the saga and no doubt sign myself up for another monstrosity of unfortunate length. Welp.

The bastard on the parapet above was very definitely aiming directly at him, and that, no matter his mixed feelings on why he was here in the first place, was the one thing Samuel Jones found bloody inexcusable. He ducked as the next round from the apparently very dedicated Spaniard blasted the trunk of the palm tree next to him, then fumbled another cartridge from his belt, tore the twist with his teeth, poured half the powder into the pan, and pulled his grimy ramrod to shove the ball, and the rest of the powder, down the barrel. Drew a bead on his target – the officers had about given up calling through the usual make ready, present, fire commands in the heavy bombardment, and every man was more or less shooting at will anyway – cocked it, closed one eye, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked, boomed, and actually went off, which was always a happy surprise when it did. Peering through the smoke, Sam could see to his chagrin that he had not shot the Spaniard, though by the volume and quantity of what sounded like some very Catholic curses, he thought he had at least come close. He crouched back down to start the cumbersome reloading process yet again, thinking that when he had agreed to do this (well, insofar as he had had an actual choice), it had been, in his mind, far more glamorous. The order had gone out through the Province of Georgia for all able-bodied men of arms-bearing age, sixteen to sixty, to join Governor James Oglethorpe in his march to St. Augustine, the capital of Spanish La Florida, and (theoretically, at least) capture it for the English Crown. Such, therefore, was the idea.

Reality, naturally, was turning out to be far more complicated. To say the least, Sam’s family had an extremely delicate history with the English Crown, and this war, which had broken out last year, 1739, on deliberate provocation by the British to improve their economic position in the New World and hang onto their slave-trading right with Spanish colonies, was about as dislikable as it was possible to get. England and Spain were always fighting each other anyway, and Sam’s father and grandfather had both been strongly against his going (his mother as well, though for different reasons). Sam understood their philosophical objections, and to some degree shared them, but he himself had different concerns. His twentieth birthday was in September, and he absolutely did not intend to be the only young man of his age sitting around on his hands while the rest went off to war. The society and good opinion of a number of fetching young ladies was at stake. He was going to make the most of this.

It was possible, Sam reflected, as he squinted against the glare off the water, that there were easier ways to accomplish this objective. The siege of St. Augustine had been, thus far, a very nearly unmitigated disaster. While Oglethorpe had started out with some modest success, the Spanish had recaptured the satellite citadel of Fort Mose in a surprise attack, wiping out half the Highlander and Indian contingent that had held it, and the Royal Navy blockade in the harbor – which by the very word, blockade, was supposed to keep Spanish supply ships out – had failed at that one job, allowing them to slip through the siege lines and replenish St. Augustine’s dwindling provisions. Sam’s father, the former Royal Navy lieutenant who had fought in several battles of the last major Anglo-Spanish war (now about four wars ago) would have been absolutely aghast at this incompetence, and it had left the British army, on its heels, with no option but to try to bash their way into the city by brute force. Which, given current events, was shaping up exactly as well as might be expected.

Sam ducked again as a second blast from the Spanish artillery on the walls crumpled the much-abused tree next to him into matchwood. His ears were ringing, and sweat was pouring down his back from the bruising July heat. He was not wearing the ubiquitous red coat of a soldier, but the blue wool jacket of a Continental militiaman, and either way, he was bloody boiling. He shucked it off, tucked his linen blouson shirt back into his breeches, and threw a hopeful look at the sky, imploring it to help out with a breeze or a bit of rain. Though he was likely to regret that instantly if it actually did, as it would turn this entire low-lying salt plain into hellacious mud, and Commodore Pearce, the lion-hearted commander of the Navy fleet, already had his bloomers in a bunch about hurricane season. One drop, and he’d probably run screaming, wig flying.

Sam snorted to himself, reloaded his musket again (he wasn’t as fast as the well-drilled Army lads who could get off four shots a minute, but he wasn’t some bumbling backwater country boy either – not that you’d know, the looks he got) and fired. The Spaniard was engaged in preparing to visit some other malfeasance on him, and this momentarily interrupted said proceedings. Indeed, their eyes locked among the chaos, and Sam had the brief and unsettling impression that the man knew him from somewhere, or had otherwise some animus with him that went beyond the general conventions of two blokes on either side of a flag trying to blast each other’s brains out. Then there was another explosion, the field gun next to Sam backfired and someone went down screaming, and he forgot about it.

A few more inconclusive salvos were exchanged for the next few hours, but it was clear that the resupplied city was well prepared to hold against a few piddling bombardments, and Sam heard the officers yelling to fall back. God, this was embarrassing. They outnumbered the Spanish almost three to one between Army, militia, and Indians, boasted five Navy frigates and three sloops, and yet they were the ones scuttling away with their tails between their legs. It was a slog of close to a mile back to the British camp, a small tent city pitched on marsh and cut by glades (which, camp rumor held, contained several man-eating crocodiles), and the soot-faced, sweaty men were trudging in hungry, tired, and massively dispirited. It was clear that unless something changed, and quickly, they had permanently lost the advantage in Florida, and sporadic pay had not improved their tempers. The regulars could be more or less assured of theirs, but the militiamen were already clothed and supplied at their own expense, and as the Crown tended to hold the position that they should feel grateful to serve their rightful sovereign from the goodness of their hearts, this was not a profitable occupation. Or –

“Jones. Hey. Jones!”

Sam looked up with a start at the shout, to see his friend Nathaniel Hunt, one of the other men who had come from Savannah, where the Swan-Jones family lived after moving from Boston fifteen years ago. Sam was madly in love with Nathaniel’s sister Isabelle, who was chief among the young ladies whose good graces he hoped to obtain by this venture, and he turned to him, wiping his face with his arm. “Aye?”

“General Oglethorpe wants to see you.” Hunt looked rather intimidated. “Personally.”

“Oh?” Sam had to repress a brief swoop of unease. He had figured that he was mostly invisible among the ranks, and extra scrutiny was never terribly welcome for someone of his particular pedigree. To have the commander asking for you by name was. . . well, hopefully it was just to settle up about those back wages, but not terribly likely. “I’ll be along in a moment, then.”

As Hunt trotted off, presumably to relay this message, Sam untied his long dark hair from its thong, combed his fingers through it, and splashed a little water on his face, which had only a minimal effect on the accumulated dust. He scouted up a new jacket and retied his neckerchief, and when he looked more or less presentable for an audience with the general – who, apart from his military station, was also the governor of the Province of Georgia and someone with the power to make things difficult for Sam and his family – swallowed hard and set off across the camp. Twilight streaked crimson and orange and gold across the western sky, and supper fires were starting to be lit, small earthbound stars, as clouds of stinging insects buzzed up from the marshes. The soldiers slapped them, grumbled, cursed, passed around canteens and bowls of stew, sitting on half-rotted logs and leaning their muskets against knots of saltgrass. Sam suddenly desired their company more than he had a minute ago, if an unexpected visit had cropped up in the meantime. This was probably nothing. Routine procedure.

He reached the central tent after a few more minutes, gave his name to the redcoats on guard outside, and waited as they ducked in to inform Oglethorpe. Then they beckoned him through, and Sam advanced warily as the flaps fell shut behind him. He had a pistol in his belt, not that he thought he could shoot the bloody Governor if this went pear-shaped, and he clasped his hands behind him, feeling as if he was back at school with the particularly irascible Latin master. “Ah – Your Excellency? I’m Samuel Jones. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” James Oglethorpe was a trim mid-forties aristocrat in a currently rather damp and flyaway wig, which he seemed to have made a losing effort to tame. He was sitting behind a camp desk heaped with piles of papers and parchments: requisition orders, army reports, maps of the region, dispatches from the scouts and spies, and doubtless a hundred and one bellyaching letters from Commodore Pearce about the needs of the fleet. A few candles were wedged precariously onto the edge, along with some fugitive inkwells and penknives and a half-finished plate of dinner and decanter of brandy. “At your ease, soldier.”

The last thing Sam felt was at ease, but he snapped a salute, clicked his heels, then adopted a slightly more casual posture, taking the camp chair across from Oglethorpe when the governor nodded to it. He tried not to fiddle with the loose thread on his jacket cuff. “Sir?” he prompted, when Oglethorpe kept writing. Likely shouldn’t, keep your mouth shut until the commanding officer spoke to you, so on and so forth, but holding his tongue (or his temper) had never been one of his particular virtues. “Did you – ”

Oglethorpe gave him a dry look, as if to say that he would find out if he just shut up for a moment, and removed the gadroon from the candle, dropping melted wax onto the letter and sealing it with a stamp of his ring. Then he said, “You are Samuel Jones of Savannah, Georgia?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is your father Killian Jones, formerly first lieutenant of HMS Imperator in the Royal Navy?”

A slight chill went down Sam’s back, as this was never a well-boding line of questioning. Still, he kept his expression neutral. “Yes, sir.”

“And your mother, I believe – ” Oglethorpe checked one of his papers. “Emma Jones, née Swan, who was at one point in operation of a vessel, the Blackbird, that – pursued business opportunities outside of the usual parameters of enterprise?”

“If you’re asking if my mother was a pirate,” Sam said bluntly, “I think you know the answer.”

Both of Oglethorpe’s eyebrows raised at that, but he forbore to rebuke this impertinency. He set aside his papers and regarded Sam levelly, fingers steepled. “Both your parents, weren’t they? Your father’s notorious alias was Hook, later in his career?”

Sam winced. So much for this being innocuous. “My parents have been upright citizens for almost three decades. And considering that Georgia was founded to provide a refuge for those who might have landed themselves on the wrong side of England’s laws – you should recall, sir, as you did the founding – surely you can’t be registering a moral objection now?”

“There is,” Oglethorpe said, “rather some difference between the honest poor abused in workhouses, those escaping the unjust vicissitudes of religious oppression, and other such deserving refugees, than there are between notorious and unrepentant high seas pirates. On that note, I believe your grandfather was also a pirate? James McGraw, known as Captain Flint – reported dead some years ago, by hanging?”

Sam kept his face straight. The number of ersatz “Flints” captured by the authorities and inevitably executed had in fact become something of a running joke with his family – “hanged you again last week, Grandpa” – but this meant that Oglethorpe had been doing quite a bit of digging. Not merely to boast about it, either. “Aye,” he said, since there wasn’t much use in denying it outright. “But my grandfather is, as you say, dead.”

“Mm. And you are most likely named for the late Captain Samuel Bellamy, a former close associate of your parents, and also a pirate?”

“Yes,” Sam said resignedly, deciding not to mention that this man was additionally his godfather, as he had a feeling that would be making Oglethorpe’s point for him. “Also a pirate.”

“Mmmmm.” Oglethorpe’s nostrils pinched, but at least he was not shouting for the redcoats to rush in and string Sam up – yet – so there had to be some purpose to this interrogation. “Well, young Jones. You have a. . . colorful genealogy.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam was thirsty as buggeration, but he did not suppose that the governor was about to offer him a drink. “Anyone else to ask me about, sir?”

Oglethorpe gave him a cold fish-eye, seemed to consider it, and then sat back. “That will suffice for the moment. I suppose it’s to your credit that you are forthcoming about it. Though, one would also reckon, quite dangerous.”

“My parents never tried to hide who our family was, and used to be. Even as much as they’ve lived peacefully since they left that world behind.” Sam’s tone matched the governor’s for levelness, but he was not about to sit here and listen to his kin be slandered to his face. “Is there a purpose to this? Sir?”

“So you are going to claim that, despite this, you are a loyal subject?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sam decided it was best to finesse this question. “Fighting for you? And from what I can tell, the whole thing has gone tits up without any help at all from me.”

Oglethorpe looked pained.

“Er.” Sam coughed. “Feet. Feet up.”

“Well – despite your markedly uncouth matter of phrasing it, I cannot argue with your conclusions.” Oglethorpe took the decanter and poured a bracing tot of brandy for himself. “The failure of the blockade was a serious blow, and by all indications, we will have to retreat. That damnable poltroon Pearce has also turned lily-livered about keeping the fleet out in hurricane season – though considering what happened twenty-five years ago, just down the coast, I suppose he has a point.”

Sam concurred on this accord, as the legendary wreck of the 1715 Spanish treasure fleet was an event well known across the New World, and once more pertinent to his family history. He was, however, slightly wary as to why Oglethorpe had turned that quickly from interviewing him about said history to dropping bits of undeniably sensitive intelligence. His first instinct – that Oglethorpe wanted to blackmail him somehow – felt accurate, but it was more than that. Having made it clear what was at stake if Sam should refuse, viz. the potential continued peaceful existence of his entire family, the carrot must now follow the stick, and Sam didn’t feel like waiting it out. “Well?” he said. “What do you want from me?”

Oglethorpe’s eyebrows made a now fairly-accustomed pilgrimage toward his hairline. “Do you always speak so. . . openly to your superiors?”

“I’m not one for flimflam.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “You do want something from me, don’t you? That’s what you’re getting at. You’ve been elegantly insinuating how much you know about my family and how much trouble you could make if I don’t cooperate. Let’s assume for the moment that I’m cooperating. What is it?”

“Well.” Feathers ruffled, Oglethorpe had to take a restorative gulp of brandy. “Among our other misfortunes, Governor Montiano has recently captured several of my clerks and aides-de-camp, men with detailed knowledge of our plans, capabilities, and the continuing broader operation of the war. We are preparing for a – well, never mind. Suffice it to say that the future strategy of the English Crown will be considerably jeopardized if Montiano succeeds in passing that intelligence to his overlords in Havana. In exchange for your agreement to work as my personal agent in this matter, tracking the Spaniard with the intelligence and taking whatever measures necessary to ensure that it is not received, I will. . . take your word for it that your family are productive and peaceable members of society. Is that clear enough for your tastes?”

Sam repressed a brief and unpleasant sensation that he knew exactly which Spaniard would be carrying the letter to Havana. “So you’re what – asking me to put my inherited pirate skills to work in your interests? Shoot the messenger, as it were?”

“If that is what it takes, then it would, of course, be sanctioned by the state of war that exists between Great Britain and the Spanish empire. Not, of course, that I find the prospect tasteful. I am aware that murder remains a sin in the Anglican confession, and I would not ask you to commit it without due cause.” Oglethorpe actually looked candidly at Sam for the first time in the conversation, which was nice enough of him that Sam decided against mentioning that his family wasn’t much for church. “All I ask is that the letter with the intelligence does not reach Havana. And since you, as you note, have somewhat of a heritage with these acts, you can employ your own discretion as to what that involves.”

“And I’m supposed to do this for free?”

“On the understanding that your family would be guaranteed their safety, yes.”

Sam considered, tapping his fingers on his knee. He wanted to point out that guarantees of safety were not going to cover any bribes, fees of passage, food or lodging, or other expenses, and that the militiamen were, as noted, already several months in arrears of even their modest pay, which always seemed to be the first to go whenever the supply chain was in straits. Not too much in straits, though, given that Oglethorpe still had his brandy. Wouldn’t want to deprive him of that, to be sure. “But you’re still not expensing me for it?”

“I should not be surprised that the scion of pirates haggles like a fishwife.” Oglethorpe pulled out another sheet of parchment, dipped his quill, signed it, and stamped it. “In that regard, well, this is for you. Letters of marque. It entitles you to take that which you require for your sustenance, under the auspices of your status as a servant to His Majesty, George II.”

Sam grimaced. “You’re making me a privateer, you mean.”

“I am hiring a pirate,” Oglethorpe pointed out, with some asperity. “Not a priest.”

This was, Sam supposed, rather flattering in its way, so that he wondered if he wanted to correct Oglethorpe’s amusing but mistaken impression that he had been raised as a miniature buccaneer from the cradle, wrapped in the skull and crossbones as a baby blanket and taught his letters by chalking DEATH TO ENGLISH TYRANNY over and over on the slate. He in fact had no more real knowledge of the pirate life than any other nineteen-year-old lad with an overactive imagination, because his parents had always ensured that he never had to live that way. But he could not deny that he was curious. They had all experienced it, they had known it, they had bled and breathed it, and grateful as he was for his comfortable and prosperous childhood, he felt that he had rather missed the boat, in more ways than one. He was proud of what his family had been, even as he knew there was no place for them in this ever more modern world. And yet, he could not help but want his own taste. Just a little. Just that same breath of adventure, of freedom.

He hesitated, then took the letter. Not that he knew entirely what to do with it, but it couldn’t hurt to keep it for now. “Am I going by myself?”

“An army company would attract attention, and I won’t be able to spare men from our rearguard, given that Montiano and his negroes are likely to be breathing up it.” Oglethorpe sighed. He himself was a fairly progressive man as such things went; it was on his express instigation that slavery had been banned in the new colony of Georgia, and he had cultivated genuinely good relationships with the local Indians, several of whom were here fighting for him. That did not mean, however, that he was inclined to view a hostile alliance of Spaniards and black men favorably. Slavery had been outlawed in Spanish Florida since 1728, granted in gratitude for them rising up to defeat an attempted British invasion, and since the issue of its continued trade  lay at the heart of this war, Sam rather thought that despite any personal convictions as to its moral wrongness, Oglethorpe was still supporting it by fighting for the system that sustained it. “You may, however,” the governor went on, “choose a traveling companion. Your mission will be dangerous, and it is best not to go entirely alone.”

“Hunt,” Sam said at once. Whatever was going to happen, he’d feel far safer with a friend from home at his back. “Nathaniel Hunt.”

“Very well. If you think you can trust him, you’d best be on your way.” Oglethorpe looked as if he knew that he was depriving Sam of a hearty meal and a good night’s sleep, but time was of the essence. The Spanish agent might already have a head start. “Good luck, Mr. Jones.”

-------------------

“Please,” Nathaniel said as they trudged through the thigh-high salt grass, “tell me that you’re not doing this to impress my sister.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam prodded gingerly ahead of him with his musket. There were all kinds of poisonous vipers around here – moccasins, copperheads, cottonmouths – and he’d seen a man bitten, have his leg swell up blue and bloated, then die in agony hours later. The sound of the camp had almost, but not quite, faded behind them, and as they had to get back to St. Augustine, determine if the courier had left yet, and avoid being killed all before sunrise, Sam was setting a brisk pace. “Besides, even if I was, fair’s fair, isn’t it? You’re not going to tell me you don’t have eyes for Geneva?”

Nathaniel was a tall, lanky redhead, which meant that when he blushed, it looked as if his entire head was afire. The fact that said blush was visible even by moonlight was testament to its ferocity. “Shut up.”

“Aha.” At least, Sam thought, Nathaniel could take comfort in the fact that he was far from alone in this affliction. Geneva Jones was twenty-four, a striking beauty (not that Sam himself was vested in this, as she was his older sister, that would just be bloody weird) and the present captain of the family ship, the Rose, which had been a Navy sixth-rater in its former life before their mother commandeered it. Geneva had always demonstrated more of an aptitude and aspiration for sailing than Sam, who preferred to conduct his misadventures on land (the one trait in which he sensed that he might have disappointed his seafaring relations) and as such, had been the one prepared to inherit said vessel. Come to think of it, this mission also couldn’t hurt as a chance to polish Sam’s credentials as an old salt, or however that worked. “You do.”

“I said, shut up.” Nathaniel kept walking determinedly. “Besides, someone has to come along to be sure you don’t break your fool neck.”

“It’ll be a good story,” Sam said. “Have your uncle print it up in his paper. Or he can put it in the other one, Poor Richard’s Almanack. I’m sure it would be very popular.”

Nathaniel looked mildly horrified at this suggestion, as if his uncle Benjamin found out, it would assuredly mean that his mother, one of the other sixteen children of Josiah Franklin and his two wives, would find out as well. “I think I’d rather face the Spaniards.”

“There, see, you’ve that going for you already.” Sam stole another wary look from side to side, checked the grass once more for poisonous beasts (of whatever variety) and jumped the creek, before gesturing to Nathaniel to halt. “This shouldn’t take long. Keep watch.”

Nathaniel blinked, utterly baffled. “Keep watch? For what? We’re not even out of the camp yet. Hate to break it to you, Jones, but that’s one of our supply wagons just there, not a Spanish artillery position.”

“I know it’s a supply wagon, you dolt.” Sam cracked his knuckles. “I said, keep watch.”

Bafflement remained the chief emotion on his friend’s freckled countenance a moment longer, until it was replaced by horror. “Oh no. Oh, no. Sam, don’t you – ”

“I have a letter of marque, remember? And this is the hell of a lot easier to start with than some Spanish fortress or man-o-war bristling with guns. Besides, they haven’t paid us anyway. Do you want your share or not?”

“Oh my god,” Nathaniel said. “You are going to get us killed.”

“Just keep quiet and let out a good yell if anyone comes this way.” Sam checked that the sentries had passed, then limbered up the side of the wagon, untying the lashings and burrowing beneath the canvas like a determined weasel. He could still hear Nathaniel muttering imprecations to himself under his breath, clearly vastly regretting this decision not an hour into it, but, well, that was his misfortune. Sam rummaged around in the dimness, saw beady eyes and batted away the foot-long rat that was gnawing on the grain sack, and finally happened on one of the petty cash chests. The main strongboxes were kept in the governor’s pavilion with the guards, but the supply wagons needed to have their own capital on hand to barter or purchase provisions for the army, and the drivers were not always terribly conscientious about taking it out every night – who would bother to steal it, in the middle of camp, when being caught would either get them short a hand or a noose around the neck? Aye. Rhetorical question, Jones. The answer being you.

Sam took the ramrod from his musket, which he had brought into the wagon with him for this express purpose, and worked at the lock – not terribly complicated – until it gave way. He might not be a full-blown pirate, no, but growing up with them had given him a black-market skill or two, and he opened the chest, grabbed one of the money sacks inside, gave it a good jingle to test that it was full, and then stuffed it into his jacket and bailed out of the wagon to the extremely judgmental stare of Nathaniel Obadiah Hunt. At least it was his, and not anyone else’s, and Sam scrambled to his feet, brushing grass off his breeches. “Let’s go.”

Still shaking his head, Nathaniel shouldered his own musket and their rucksack of provisions, and they trotted at a healthy pace until the British camp had mostly disappeared behind them. St. Augustine lay dark on the horizon, the Castillo de San Marcos bristling with fortified positions and torches burning along the walls. The Spanish were no doubt extremely vigilant as the possibility of a second English sneak attack during the night, and Sam and Nathaniel had to be very, very careful picking their way across the outlying island. It was still strewn with the remains of the bombardment earlier, broken trees and heaps of stones and here and there, unpleasantly, a staring corpse already starting to smell ripe from the heat. Some of them had supplies still with them, and might have had coin, but Sam already had what he needed, and he was no grave-robber. Leave that to the scavengers.

At last, they reached the bay, slipped through the mud flats left by the outgoing tide, and cautiously eyed up the ships in the harbor. All they really had to go on was that Governor Montiano would be sending his intelligence to Havana, so they could hitch a ride aboard one of the sloops – it shouldn’t be too difficult, if Sam presented his commission from Oglethorpe. He thought vaguely of the fact that his family might wonder what had happened to him, if he did not return home with the rest of the retreating army. When tasked with a vital secret mission, you did not get a chance to ask if you could write to your mother first, but Sam hoped they wouldn’t worry. Besides, any letter he gave to one of Oglethorpe’s minions would provide them with an excellent chance to find out exactly where his family lived, the fact that his grandfather was not dead, and other such sensitive details. Finish this, and they’d be. . . well, Sam was not so naïve as to think that this would shield them from scrutiny forever. But still. This could matter.

He took a deep breath, hitched his pack up, and started to walk.

---------------------------

It was the dream that woke Emma, though once she opened her eyes and felt herself return to reality with a small gasp, she was not quite sure what it had been. It slipped quietly away on the tides of sleep and the stillness before sunrise, and she blinked hard, left with only a vague sense of unsettlement and unease. It faded, though, and she let herself sink back into the pillows, Killian’s arm settled around her waist where he had draped it before they had fallen asleep. In the deep heat of a southern summer, neither of them saw much call to wear anything to bed, and much as Emma enjoyed being cocooned in amorous embrace with her dearest spouse, she was also rather too warm, and she lightly disentangled herself, settling his arm on the mattress and admiring the dark sweep of lashes on his cheek. He looked young in his sleep, he always had, despite the advancing streaks of silver that frosted his hair, the well-weathered lines that framed his eyes. At almost fifty-three – his birthday was in a few more weeks, on Saint Bartholomew’s day at the end of August – he would have fallen under the militia conscription order as well, as men were not exempt from service until the age of sixty, but a one-handed man did not qualify as able-bodied, could not fire a musket or otherwise fight, and besides, it was possible that the Colony of Georgia did not want to clutch Captain Hook too closely to its bosom anyway. That past was kept quiet and private these days, and Emma did not think that the authorities were fully aware, but no sense in tempting fate. Besides. She was just as glad to keep him home.

That made her think yet again about Sam, whom she had not stopped worrying about since he had marched off with the rest of the men in January. At going on six months, this was the longest he had yet been away from home, and with the slow and piecemeal movement of news through a war zone, there was not necessarily any way to know that they would have been informed by now if he had died. The founding of Georgia as an organized colony, when previously it had been the vital buffer zone between the British Carolinas and Spanish Florida, was always destined to be a point of serious contention, and Emma could not help but resent that her family had once more been caught up in one of England’s pointless, damaging, draining wars. Still. At least the rest of them were here, together. At least she had this.

She paused, looking down at Killian, then settled closer alongside him, deciding that the heat, given that the sun was not quite up, was not too onerous after all. She traced a finger down his chest (his magnificent fur was also rather silver in places) and then lower, opening her palm, as he made a deep, rumbling sound in his sleep, stirred, and she saw a crack of blue beneath those lashes, grinning at her. He arched his back, pressing himself into her hand. “Well, love. That’s one way to wake up.”

“Good morning.” Emma leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting him, his weight and warmth and presence, to chase away whatever demons were lingering from the darkness. Her hair fell loose, the blonde gone white in a few sizeable places as well, as he reached up with his good hand to play with it, tucking it behind her ear. “Did I interrupt a good. . . dream?”

“Nothing comparable to the real thing.” Killian shifted as she rolled on top of him, uttering another satisfied-sounding rumble as she palmed him. He wrapped his shortened arm around her waist, settling her into the grooves and lines and hollows of his body where she had learned to fit so well, and they passed an extremely pleasurable interlude with the minimum of talking. Then, when she had rolled off again, both of them enjoying the deep flush of climax spreading through them with the same steady glow of the rising sun, he said, “What is it, love?”

Emma supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he could, as ever, sense even the faintest tremors of disquiet in her soul. “Nothing.” She circled his nipple with her finger. “I’m all right now.”

Killian gave her one of his Really, Swan? looks.

“Really.” Emma had to laugh. “Just worrying about Sam again, that’s all. I had a dream – I don’t even remember if it was about him – but it felt like one of those. . . those motherly things. It’s been hard on me, the not knowing. I’m ready for him to come home.”

“You can’t keep the lad close by forever,” Killian said gently. “When I was nineteen – well, I’d just joined the Navy, so everything seemed possible to me. You’re not the smartest of creatures when you’re a boy of that age, so – whatever Sam’s been doing, whatever he’s gotten himself into, it’s likely best we don’t know, eh? Be far too stressful otherwise.”

Emma buzzed a reluctant laugh, even as she couldn’t rid herself of the faint, lingering thorn in her heart. Still, however, there were happier preoccupations on this front. “I don’t suppose Geneva will be awake just yet. She was rather late arriving last night.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, with the same doting look he had always worn when discussing the subject of his daughter, for all the twenty-four years of her life to date. Geneva had just returned from her trip to Boston, where Henry had remained with his wife Violet and their two children, Richard and Lucy. Henry had a respectable position as a reader of law and history at Harvard College, though he had been making noises about moving the family to Philadelphia and taking up with Nathaniel and Isabelle Hunt’s uncle Benjamin and the newspapers, pamphlets, and publishing business he was profitably running there. The Hunts were longtime friends of the Swan-Jones family, also with their roots in Boston, and Emma hoped that Nathaniel, who had likewise gone to war, was at least trying to keep her son out of trouble. He seemed to have a far better grasp on what that actually entailed than Sam did. He’s too much like the rest of us.

At any rate, Geneva sailed fairly frequently between Boston and Savannah, keeping up the family tradition of female captains in her mother’s stead, and she might have picked up something about the progress of the war on her peregrinations. Emma sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and went to pull on her shift and drawers, then her stays. “Give me a hand?”

“Very funny, Swan.” Killian rolled his eyes tolerantly, though he had in fact become quite good at doing up his wife’s corset with one hand; he did not always bother to put on the complicated brace for the hook if they were merely lounging around at home, and he tended to wear his false hand when they were going out. Savannah might be an opportune place for ex-pirates to settle, given the philanthropic considerations that had attended the colony’s founding, but that did not equate to openly displaying it before everyone’s faces.

Once Killian had laced the stays, not too tightly, Emma shrugged on a light lawn dress, and Killian himself pulled on a loose shirt and buttoned breeches, both of them leaving their feet bare as they padded downstairs and into the airy solarium that adjoined the house’s kitchen. They did not keep servants, though they could certainly afford to do so; that would just have to go into the ledger as another item with which to shock the neighbors. Killian sat at the table as Emma filled the kettle and set it on for coffee, to which all the Colonies had become ragingly addicted, and set on a pot of porridge to warm. When it was burbling appealingly, she took it off, spooned it into two bowls, and took the honey pot as Killian passed it with a slightly pained look on his face. This was her taste in breakfast more than his, as Killian tended to insist on boiled mackerel, grapefruit, and other severe and bracing choices of morning meal. You could, and might have long since, taken the sailor out of the Navy, but etc etc.

They had eaten for a few minutes in amiable silence when the stairs creaked, and – clearly drawn by the scent of food – Geneva came shuffling in in her dressing gown, yawning and groggy. Nonetheless, both Killian and Emma quickly got to their feet to greet their daughter with a kiss, and Emma ladled out a third bowl of porridge, pouring coffee into an earthenware mug (she and Geneva liked it with a bit of cream and sugar, Killian insisted on quaffing it black as tar). “How was the voyage, sweetheart?”

“It was a bit of a bloody hassle, actually.” Geneva shook her tousled black locks out of her face, sat down with her breakfast next to her father, and began to voraciously devour it. “The Spanish are crawling straight up the arse of any ship that seems remotely English, and I must have had to declare my goods ten times. Not to mention the looks those bastards give me, whenever I say that I’m the captain. I spent five hours arguing with the guardas costas off Cape Hatteras.”

Killian and Emma exchanged a look, as they themselves were too familiar with the guardas costas, the Spanish patrol ships that had made pirate lives so unpleasant back in the day. This war, moreover, had ostensibly been started by one – when the master of the guardas ship La Isabela had seized and boarded a British brig, the Rebecca, and cut off the ear of its captain, one Robert Jenkins. The incident had remained a source of insult, but only that, until the British government, looking for an excuse to declare war on Spain, had fanned it into evidently the most major outrage the country had ever suffered, anywhere. (Colorful legends that the severed  appendage had been displayed before Parliament remained unverified.) “Off Cape Hatteras?” Emma repeated. “They’re not supposed to be so far in English territory.”

“Must have been my lucky day, then.” Geneva gulped down another spoonful of porridge. “We all know that the real profit from the annual ship comes from all the contraband aboard it, so I suppose they were determined to ensure it wasn’t me. I finally sent him packing, though.”

“Aye, that’s my lass.” Killian looked enormously proud. The “annual ship” meant the one ship of trade goods a year that Britain was allowed to send to the Spanish colonies in the West Indies, as they were otherwise a closed market that only Spain was allowed to trade with. The Spanish colonists, however, were as eager for English luxury goods as their government was for them not to have them, and were willing to pay exorbitant prices for their acquisition. Hence, whichever captain was chosen for the annual ship must be barely able to hold the wheel, as his palms had been so well greased. Half of the smuggling in the Caribbean for the entire year must go through that ship, and was fenced profitably at its port of destination, so the guardas costas must be even more overzealous in trying to catch it and prove a major success to Madrid. “While you were out, did you. . . hear anything of how things are going, in Florida?”

A slight shadow passed over Geneva’s face, as she clearly knew they were asking for news of her brother. “Only rumors, but it didn’t sound promising. Oglethorpe is besieging St. Augustine, has been since June, but whichever nobhead they have in command of the Navy fleet seems to be sleeping on the job. The sea blockade hasn’t been effective. They might have to fall back.”

Killian snorted, as even his long departure from the Navy would certainly not prevent him from judging it harshly on its failures. “Typical.”

“Aye.” Geneva scraped the bottom of her bowl and looked hopefully for a second serving, which Emma took it to provide. “Then again, what would you expect? I doubt the South Sea Company is actually giving them any money either.”

“No,” Killian said scathingly. “Seeing as that would detract from losing it in illicit insider trading and gaming the stock market. Likewise typical that twenty years after they crashed the economy the first time, they’re given a kiss on the arse by Westminster and their very own war, isn’t it?”

Geneva, who had been only four when the “South Sea Bubble” burst for the first time, ruining a number of common creditors who had been persuaded to invest at artificially skyrocketing stock prices in the promised opening of trade with the Spanish Indies (but not, of course, the wealthy shareholders who had conned them into it) raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like a grumpy old man, Daddy, don’t you?”

“I’m justified, lass,” Killian said, with great dignity. “Well, if Oglethorpe is retreating from Florida, that might mean your brother’s coming home, but it’s not necessarily good news for the rest of us. That means the Spaniards might be on the march, and if they make it to Savannah – ”

The Swan-Joneses exchanged a look, as they all knew that what befell captured cities in wartime was rarely pleasant. Finally Geneva said, “We’ll leave on the Rose, we’ll take Granny, Grandpa, and Great-Uncle Thomas with us. Go back to Boston, if we have to.”

“Ah,” Killian murmured. “So England can take another home from us.”

There was a brief and unhappy silence, as nobody was eager to uproot from Savannah, where they had lived for fifteen years, and surely Miranda, James, and Thomas must be even less so. Still, that remained as yet a theoretical difficulty, happily, and Geneva drank the last of her coffee, then set the cup down. “On that note, I was actually planning to visit them today. I brought back some books for them. Did you want to come?”

“That sounds lovely.” Emma started to rise to her feet. “I’ll get the horses hitched up.”

“No, Mother, I’ll do it. Soon as I get dressed.” Geneva pushed her back down. “Stay.”

Raising an eyebrow, Emma did as instructed, as she had to consider that perhaps it would not be the worst thing in the world to consider hiring help. When Sam was home, he was saddled with all the chores that it was useful to have a teenage son on hand to accomplish, but with his extended absence, and the fact of Killian’s limitations, that meant that most of the housework and general mucking about fell to Emma. Neither of them were getting any younger, and there were certainly any number of interested applicants. At least a maidservant and a footman, as they could likely get by with that, and she would treat them better than Leopold White had ultimately treated her. She would have to place an advertisement in the Virginia Gazette, published in Williamsburg, as that was the chief newspaper serving the southern colonies. Gone were the days when all the Americas had only had the Boston News-Letter, printed once weekly, to rely upon, as the trade was steadily growing – thanks in no small part to Ben Franklin, in fact. She’d look into it.

Geneva returned in fifteen minutes or so, washed and brushed, and went to hitch up their two horses to the buggy, which she enjoyed driving through Savannah’s cobbled streets at decidedly unladylike speeds. Various outraged guardians of public virtue had registered their objections to Killian, which were promptly and thoroughly ignored, and several local ministers were more than slightly convinced of Geneva’s status as a Cautionary Tale to all the impressionable young women in their parishes. Emma bit a grin as her daughter helped them up onto the running board, adjusted her hat to a fashionable angle, gathered the reins in gloved hands, and snapped them lightly over the horses’ backs. They rolled out of the carriage house, and down the road.

It was a hot and clear late-summer morning in Savannah, the air already thick as soup, and the merchants were at least as interested in reclining in the shade as they were in hawking their wares. Geneva only attracted a few stares, as most of the locals were resignedly used to her by now, and they sped up once they had crossed town, taking the road (well, wandering country lane) that led out to the small house, built under huge old oaks, where Miranda Hamilton McGraw lived with her husbands, who were at least as married to each other as they were to her. Hearing the buggy’s wheels crunching up, she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, and Geneva waved to her. “Stay there, Granny,” she called. “We’ll come over.”

Miranda did as instructed, though her face had lit up with joy to see her granddaughter, as the two of them were very close. She was not much for traveling these days, as she had never entirely recovered from her ordeal in Charlestown and the lasting damage it had left in her, and at the age of sixty-five, she was more than justified in a quiet retirement. When Geneva had unbuckled the harnesses and led the horses to the trough, she hurried up the garden walk to hug her grandmother (gently) and kiss her on the cheek. “I have a surprise for you.”

“More than just this unexpected visit?” Miranda raised an eyebrow, turning so Emma could kiss her as well, and Killian nodded affectionately. “I didn’t think you’d be back from Boston for another week at the least.”

“Wind was good,” Geneva said, with the casual competence of the experienced sailor. “Though the delays with the guardas nearly wiped that out.”

Miranda’s brow furrowed. “They’ve gotten quite bold again, haven’t they?”

“Don’t worry, Granny, I still have both my ears,” Geneva assured her, linking her arm through Miranda’s, as Miranda took a better grip on her cane with the other hand, to escort her inside. With Killian and Emma following, they went through to the small kitchen at the back of the house, where James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton were reading the paper in their shirtsleeves. Flint was likewise in his late sixties, but tough and strong and weathered as a stump of ironwood, his hair gone mostly the rich, mellow white of redheads, though there were ginger streaks left here and there and in his beard. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t been “Flint” for many years now, and while everyone was grateful for it, it still tended to be how Emma thought of him. Fonder, rather than the previous wariness and careful, always-contested alliance, but an older lion was still a dangerous one, and he more than certainly still had his claws. Even his life here in peaceful obscurity with Miranda and Thomas had not softened those edges entirely.

And yet, Flint was smiling as he stood up. “Well,” he said, crossing the floor to clap Killian on the shoulder, let Emma kiss his scruffy cheek, and hug Geneva with one arm. “Thought I smelled trouble. Those bastards let you back into port then, Jenny?”

“Only with minimal bribery, aye,” Geneva said dryly. She stepped past him to hug Thomas, who – although she and Sam would have happily called him grandpa as well – insisted that he did not want to take away from the family that James and Miranda had built in the years without him, and was content to be known as great-uncle. “I’ve a surprise for you.”

With that, she took out a large parcel wrapped in brown paper, handed it over, and watched with barely concealed delight as her grandparents opened it. There was a leather-bound edition of the poems of Catullus, the same of the histories of Tacitus, a copy of Gulliver’s Travels by the novelist Swift, the newest Poor Richard’s Almanack, some tracts by the philosopher Locke, and several French books with risqué woodcuts. “This must have cost you a fortune,” Miranda said, finally looking up from lovingly paging through each. “Are you sure you don’t want us to – ?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Granny. It’s a gift.” Geneva shook her head firmly. “You know Henry’s at Harvard, and he’s thinking about moving to Philadelphia and taking up with Mr. Franklin. You’ll have more books than you know what to do with.”

“Gracious, you’ll spoil us.” Miranda’s eyes shone, belying her protestations, as she squeezed Geneva’s hand. “Well, what next for you, after all this industry? Surely a young lady as busy as you won’t be sitting at home for long, much as we might enjoy your company while you are.”

“Actually.” Geneva’s voice was the sort of carefully offhand tone that was used to impart potentially uncomfortable information, while trying to make it sound as ordinary as possible. “I was thinking about going to Nassau.”

That caused everyone in the kitchen to sit up sharply and pay attention. Killian and Emma glanced at each other, as James, Thomas, and Miranda did likewise, a current running among all five of the adults. Thomas had never been there, and the other four had not been back since they had left. It was a bustling center of (mostly) lawful commerce these days, rather than a notorious outlaw haven, and they obviously could not stop Geneva going if she wanted to, but that would certainly take a few tries to swallow. “Nassau?” Emma said at last. “Why?”

“Uncle Charlie’s there,” Geneva pointed out, which was true. Emma’s brother, Charles Swan, had stayed on New Providence Island and risen to a position of some significance in its politics. The pirates’ old and sworn enemy, Woodes Rogers, had actually been reinstated to the office of governor after he was released from debtors’ prison, though his second tenure was quite a bit less successful than the first, and he had died there in 1732. Upon the occasion of his decidedly unlamented demise, Charles had taken over as the acting governor of the island, holding the office for a few months, before he formed the strong opinion that such a career was not at all for him. He returned to his work with Max, the de facto mistress of the island anyway, to manage David and Mary Margaret Nolan’s shipping and merchant concerns in the Bahamas, of which a portion of the considerable profits had been sent to Killian and Emma for years. And yet, none of them had ever quite felt up to returning. It felt like tempting fate, given everything that had happened to them there. Charlie had visited them in Boston and Savannah alike, but they had never returned the favor with Nassau. It remained too delicate.

“Aye,” Emma said at last, slowly, seeing that her daughter was waiting for her to answer. “I can understand you might want to visit, and aye, Charlie would be happy to introduce you to the merchant guilds there. But it’s. . . it’s surely not where you mean to make a career?”

“One of you should be a pirate,” Flint suggested. “Seeing as Samuel can’t sail to save his life.”

Miranda gave her second husband a deeply reproving look. “James.”

“No, Grandpa, I don’t mean to be a pirate.” Nonetheless, Geneva had to bite her lip on a smile. “But I – I’ve wanted to go there for a while. I feel as if I should at least see the place.”

“By yourself?” Thomas raised a grey-blonde eyebrow. “From what James and Miranda have told me, it’s not the sort of place I’d think a young lady would feel comfortable venturing alone – it might be slightly more respectable these days, but a fresh coat of paint is scarcely about to fix all the holes in the walls, only hide them. Nobody would know me, and therefore I doubt I’d attract any singular attention as your chaperon. Permit me to come along.”

Flint and Miranda both started to say something at this, then stopped. Surely Thomas must be just as curious about the life they had shared there for a decade without him, and with his long years of work on the plantation where he had been sent by his father, thus to expunge the scandal from the Hamilton family name without actually killing him, he was still reasonably spry and active. As he pointed out, it would attract no attention for an older gentleman to be traveling with his great-niece, and no matter if it had been a quarter century or not, there was no way Captain Flint could set foot on Nassau again without lighting the entire Caribbean afire with the news. The world presumed him dead several times over, which was not entirely inaccurate insofar as Captain Flint had long returned to the sea and only James McGraw remained, and it was that anonymity which was keeping him, his wife and husband, and the rest of their family safe. Nobody needed to look for a dead man, or think to try him for his crimes. Bringing him back to life might be more trouble than it was worth.

“Thomas,” Miranda began at last. “Are you sure? Do you want to – I could go with both of you, if you thought that would – ”

“You can’t travel well,” Thomas reminded her. “And I know you and James have not spent a single night apart since you found each other again. Stay here and look after each other as you did for so long, my dear ones. It’s my pilgrimage to make, now. Assuming, of course, that Geneva would be willing to bring an old man along.”

“Of course, Great-Uncle Thomas.” Geneva seemed surprised that he would have to ask. “I’m not planning to be there long, just a fortnight or so. If you wanted more time – ”

“No, no. A fortnight should be fine.” Thomas smiled at her. “Likewise, I thought it was time that I visited. So then. That’s settled?”

Flint and Miranda glanced at each other, their hands linking under the table, then nodded. Just as well, Emma knew that she and Killian could not prevent their daughter, a grown woman and captain of her own ship, from returning to the place where this had all begun, their home and their fortress and their battleground for many years. Still, Emma hoped it would go quickly, and that Charlie was correct when he insisted it was no different from any other bustling port city in the New World. She had carried a certain image of Nassau in her head for so long that it was a shock to think of her daughter going there, bringing the two worlds together again after their years of separation, until sometimes it seemed to have dwindled almost into a dream lost on waking. Like the one this morning, like that faint whisper of unease but nothing discernible or solid. Only shifting shadows, and countless ghosts.

“Very well, then,” she said at last. “But please do be careful.”

----------------------

Geneva and Thomas left three mornings hence, once Geneva had had a chance to resupply the Rose, be sure that her crew had been paid (they were too used to her schedule to complain that she was dragging them out of home and hearth and their wives or mistresses’ beds after not even a week ashore, and she made sure the money was good enough that they didn’t) and made at least reasonably certain that there was not a hurricane brewing up further out to sea. It wasn’t a terribly long journey from Savannah to Nassau, and she had sailed to the Caribbean before, but it was still not one she cared to risk if the weather was going to be a pain in the hindquarters. Especially given how anxious her parents and grandparents already were about the enterprise, no matter how hard they tried to disguise it. She didn’t mean to worry them, but she was also fully confident in her ability to handle herself, and her great-uncle Thomas, while he might not be one of the several pirate captains in the family, had learned from necessity how to defend himself. They would be fine. Her uncle Charlie would be there too. No worries at all.

Geneva was also aware that her family was especially sensitive about the prospect of storms, given how her godfather, her brother’s namesake, had died. She had only met Sam Bellamy once, when she was far too young to remember, only hours after her birth on a remote strip of Caribbean sandbar, which was also where her grandparents had been married and made the fateful decision to sail for Charlestown and avenge the betrayal of their old friend, Peter Ashe. She had been taken away with Henry by their uncle Liam and aunt Regina, who lived in Paris these days, and who Geneva also did not remember, given that they had left France and returned to the Colonies when she was still less than a year old. She knew her father missed his older brother, as the Jones boys had never been separated in their lives until Killian’s disgrace and downfall, his transformation into Hook, but Liam was likewise not much for traveling any more, wanted his sailing days to be behind him, and was haunted by the events of Charlestown in a different way. He had had to kill the bloodily infamous privateer and terrifying mercenary captain, Henry Jennings – also to protect Geneva and Henry, and which Henry remembered but would not talk about – and that memory, the cost of what it had taken to bring down the monster who had wreaked so much pain and havoc on their family, had left him never the same again.

Geneva had begun to mull the idea of suggesting to her parents that she take them to Paris, though it would certainly be the longest voyage she had ever attempted; she had sailed plenty in the Colonies and the Caribbean, but the Atlantic was a different proposition. Not that she thought she wasn’t capable, and if worse came to worse, she would have both her father and mother, experienced captains in their own right, to help. But if she wanted to go to Nassau, she also wanted to go to France. Could not help but think of that Scottish folk ballad, and how oddly, poignantly appropriate it was for their scattered family. The water is wide, I cannot get o’er. Neither have I the wings to fly. Give me a boat that can carry two, and both shall row, my love and I. She wanted her father to see her uncle again, wanted to mend what still seemed so deep and raw and broken. A ship there is and she sails the sea, she's loaded deep as deep can be. But not so deep as the love I'm in, I know not if I sink or swim.

Nonetheless, Geneva did her best to banish such melancholy preoccupations for their departure. Grandpa, Granny, Mother, and Daddy had all come to see them off, all with a flood of last-minute advice about Nassau. Despite their misgivings, she couldn’t help but think that they all missed it, at least a little, though some of their suggestions were wiser than others. “Get into at least one fight,” her grandfather said, sotto voce, as he hugged her on the quay. “Don’t tell your parents.”

“Grandpa.” Geneva raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to start a second war, you know.”

“Pity. I think England deserves all the wars it can get.” James McGraw smiled, not entirely reassuringly. “Jenny, you and Thomas look after each other. That place is not just a bit of quaint family history, you know. What Nassau did to me, to all of us. . . it can catch you off guard, if you’re not prepared for it, and it can change you. You’re smart, and you’re strong, and you’re hopefully more bloody sensible than we were, but still. Pay attention. Both of you.”

“I will,” Geneva promised, turning to kiss her grandmother and then hug both of her parents. They were putting a brave face on it, but they were still clearly struggling with letting her go again, when the questions of her brother’s whereabouts remained outstanding, and she hoped she ran across the little twerp on the way, give him a good shake for making them worry. Sam Jones had a very high sense of adventure and a very low sense of self-preservation, which could make for a combustible combination.

Farewells completed, as Thomas kissed Miranda, hugged James, and promised Killian and Emma that he would likewise look after their daughter, the travelers went aboard the Rose, and Geneva gave orders for them to make ready to depart. She and Thomas stood on the deck, waving to their family as the Rose began to take the wind, until they were quickly dwindling small specks. Geneva ensured that everything was in order, said one more. quiet prayer under her breath, and went to take her turn at the helm. When she looked back again, Savannah had vanished astern, there was only the sea behind her and before her, and all the world was sunlight.

[hisazuki]

Yona ch.137 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 137 “To our allies” summary with pics

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

Do not use the raws or translations for scanlations and don’t upload them on other websites. If you need watermark-less images to make graphics, send me an ask (not on anon) and I’ll give you a link - you can only request 3 images per chapter.

The Wind tribe soldiers are observing Shin. They’ve noticed their army is gathering near the border: war will probably start soon. Han-Dae asks Tae-Woo if they’re going to obey Soo-Won’s orders. The general replies their tribe lives right next to Shin’s territory, so it’s a given they were called to fight. They must be ready for when the Sky tribe comes, that’s when the fighting will begin.

Han-Dae isn’t really happy about the war. Saki doesn’t understand why: didn’t he choose to go to Sei and fight the last time? Han-Dae says it’s because he had heard about Lili being captured (the rumor said she was weak, but he quickly changed his mind when he saw her ^^;). They both agree wars won by hurting people are difficult to come to terms with.

Back to Yona’s group. Ogi says he sent a messenger to the Wind tribe and that he should reach them in half a day. He asks Hak if “avoid battle” was really the message he wanted to convey. Hak says their priority is to buy time, even if Shin might start attacking in the meantime. Voldo suggests they hurry to the border as well.

Min-Soo rushes in and tells them about what he overheard: the Sky tribe will head for Shin in 3 days, and they have about 20000 men. Everyone is worried, the war will break out earlier than they expected.

Yona tells Hak to go to the Wind tribe first. She will try to slow down Soo-Won’s army. She plans to talk to a certain ally of theirs... Hak doesn’t want to let her go without him. Ogi offers to send a messenger instead, but Yona says she wants to meet that person herself, even if it might be difficult. Min-Soo is willing to accompany her.

Again, Hak says he won’t let her go alone. Argila will go with her, then. Yona tells Hak to go. The Wind tribe is waiting for him. She doesn’t want to have any regret, so she’ll do what she can on her own. She’s confident buying time and waiting for the right opportunity will allow them to find a way to end things peacefully between Kouka and Shin. Then they’ll all be able to go to the dragons, Yoon and Ao.

Hak says he understands and he’ll be waiting.

Yona realizes what she’s done, hides her face with her coat and leaves with Argila and Min-Soo. Hak is still stunned.

Hak: ...What was that?!

Voldo: She already left.

Hak: Hey, wait.

Voldo: I told you, she left.

Hak: Nononononononono it’s weird it’s weird it’s weird pukkyuu!

Ogi casually remarks things have turned pretty bittersweet in here. He’s having fun (and put Yona’s kanzashi in his hair :D).

Hak is upset. He can’t let himself be caught unawares by everything the princess does, but for her to do such a thing just like that... can’t she give him a break?

In the carriage Ogi lent them, Yona’s buried her face in her arms, blushing furiously. When Hak told her “I’ll be waiting” with his worried look, she felt she didn’t want to part with him. She talks to herself in her head: “Yona, there are things you should and should not do, you know?” “What are you trying to do, Yona?”... She has to forget and put it out of her mind. She must focus.

Han-Dae has read Ogi’s message. He wonders if it’s really from Hak. Tae-Woo recognizes Hak’s handwriting. The soldiers are confused: should they obey Soo-Won’s command to wait for the Sky tribe and fight with them, or listen to their former general? They turn to Tae-Woo for answers.

Tae-Woo reminds them they’re all from the Wind tribe, and from Fuuga. Kids from Fuuga have had something etched in their souls since very young. No matter how great the Heavens are, no matter how admirable the king is, there’s only one person standing at the top of the Wind tribe.

Tae-Woo heads to Shin army’s camp with his small group. Meanwhile, he tells his soldiers to have fun, they’re not going to fight. Han-Dae is worried: their leader told them not to fight, but is it really alright to go to Shin like that?

Apparently there was a 2nd page to Hak’s letter. It said to get along well with people from Shin. Problem: soldiers from Shin aren’t friendly at all! Han-Dae wants to give them some wine, but gets almost shot with an arrow.

Tae-Jun is in the castle’s courtyard, all muddy. Kyo-Ga scolds him for playing in the mud at his age. Tae-Jun says he’s been harvesting iza crops in a nearby village. Kyo-Ga is still angry: what good will it do him to learn agriculture? He’s his assistant now, can’t he see how much effort Kyo-Ga put into learning various things, obeying Soo-Won and trying to rebuild the Fire tribe?

Huk-Chi arrives and tells Tae-Jun he has guests waiting for him. Tae-Jun runs away from his brother and later thanks Huk-Chi for coming up with this lie to save him. But his aide tells him he really have guests, and they’re envoys from Hiryuu castle. Tae-Jun freaks out: did he do something to anger the king?

The first person he sees is Argila, a scary-looking guy who looks like he’s a seasoned warrior. Then 2 hooded figures... Min-Soo asks Huk-Chi to leave the room. Tae-Jun loses it: they’re here to kill him, right? Oh no, he has been traumatized by mean-looking warriors in the past! And he feels like he’s become a better person lately, but that doesn’t prevent him from still doing bad-ish things from time to time!

Voice: Tae-Jun...

Hisa’s thoughts on the chapter: 

Well well, it was high time we saw Yona pulling strings to achieve what she wants without relying on the dragons. Not only has she decided to use her influence to stop the war, she’s also “decided” to move forward on a more personal level (although her kiss with Hak was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing).

There are several things to discuss in this chapter, so I’ll just address the topics as they appeared.

1) Soo-Won. He’s still proceeding with his war plans, as he told Yona in the previous chapter. However, there might be something suspicious in the place he’s chosen to discuss this topic with Kye-Sook. It's an open room with no doors, and looks like a storage area. Obviously that’s where Min-Soo was headed, as he was pictured carrying books. No doors means Soo-Won didn’t care about being overheard and his war plans aren’t a big secret, or he purposefully brought Kye-Sook here knowing Min-Soo would be around to hear them. Was it his intention to have Min-Soo report back to Yona all along?

2) Min-Soo. What are you doing, Min-Soo? I can’t understand you. Rather, I don’t like this sort of redemption arc so late in the game. Kusanagi dumped his backstory on us last chapter, explaining why he was loyal to Soo-Won while still inclined to help Yona. Why is it now okay to defy SW’s orders even though he couldn’t a few months (?) ago when the king saved his life? Did something happen to his mother, has he found other powerful allies, or does he just not care anymore? I’m confused -_-; He’s like a convenient newfound ally that I want to trust but can’t.

3) Hak and the kiss. Yona asks Hak to go to the Wind tribe. I don’t really see what he can achieve over there that he couldn’t do via Ogi’s messengers. They know Soo-Won will arrive in 3 days, it feels like he only goes there to confront him and take the blame all on himself for the Wind tribe’s treason (which might be an admirable thing, but what can he hope to do against 20000 soldiers?). That’s where the kiss comes in. As I said when I first read the chapter, to me it was a non-event. Not because it doesn’t mean anything for Yona and Hak, but because the chapter has been constructed such as to place that kiss in the middle of the chapter, and not at the end like you’d expect for a meaningful, heartwarming confession. Just as Hak said, he mustn’t let himself be overwhelmed by what the princess does. That kiss might’ve been a pleasant surprise, but Hak didn’t even question it (like, does it mean she likes me? was it just a parting kiss? etc). It wasn’t romantic, and there were onlookers. Hak and Yona didn’t really get to enjoy it - it’s not the usual “I love you” shoujo kiss. Which brings me to point 4).

4) The Wind tribe. What the hell was that about Hak being their god and standing at the top of everything? Sure he’s powerful and played with the kids and probably attracted their loyalty, but... how blind and lovestruck can they be with Hak? From what we know, when Hak was young Mundok was the true leader of the Wind tribe, and Hak was the nice big brother everyone could annoy and train with even if he was reluctant, and he didn’t like going to the castle to perform his duties (partly because of Yona). He became their general at a young age, yet it was during King Il’s reign: during his time as a general, did he get to lead soldiers to battle or make strategies or anything that would justify being elevated to god-like status among the Wind tribe? Is Mundok such a doting grandfather that he’d let everyone worship Hak like it’s no big deal?

I fear this kind of buildup is a bad omen for what’s to come. The goodbye kiss + the Wind tribe saying they’ll blindly follow Hak to the ends of the Earth? This definitely smells like a bad-things-ahead/death flag. Only I don’t expect Hak will die, but I suspect something might happen to Tae-Woo or Han-Dae. Idk, the kiss upset me, and maybe that’s why I’m seeing bad vibes in the Wind tribe’s loyalty.

5) Tae-Jun. He’s back! And somehow he made up with his brother, seeing as he is his assistant/lieutenant now. I can’t wait to see how he’ll react to what Yona tells him. I was expecting Kyo-Ga to still be studying at Hiryuu castle, because he clearly will be an obstacle to defying Soo-Won’s orders. Maybe that’s where Min-Soo will come in handy, if he can lie and say he’s here as the king’s representative.

Next chapter will be titled disturbance/perturbation. I’m hoping we’ll get to see a bit of Kouren’s side of the story, but it will likely be the continuation of Yona’s talk with Tae-Jun and the confrontation between Soo-Won and the Wind tribe.

[ispani-world]

“Unprecedented”                  “UNPRECEDENTED” (He does not die at the gate, he recovers and go’s to a country that will protect him from extradition. He will then grow his cult and strive to overthrow the USA. He will declare himself the leader of the country in exile.   FADE IN: EXT. ATHENS GREECE - SEPTEMBER TWENTY FIFTH 2016 -  THE FESTIVAL OF CRONIA.OVER FESTIVAL SCENES: The festival Cronia honors the Greek God Cronus, the ruling Titan who came to power by castrating his father Uranus. To ensure his safety, Cronus ate each of the children as they were born. This worked until his wife Rhea, unhappy at the loss of her children, tricked Cronus into swallowing a rock, instead of Zeus. When he grew up, Zeus revolted against Cronus and the other Titans, defeating them, and banishing them to Tartarus in the underworld of CroniaGreeks in various ancient garb, parade a statue of the Greek God Cronus through the streets. The worshipers arrive at the temple of Cronus, and enter. The statue is placed on a high pedestal. Worshipers kneel and then place their foreheads to the floor. The indistinct sounds of people praying. CAMERA PANS AND STOPS ON AN INDIVIDUAL MAN DRESSED THE SAME AS THE OTHERS. INDIVIDUAL MAN Almighty Cronus, in the name of my father, Dionysius, who you loved and protected, destroy my enemies and grant me the power to rule in your name. EXT. TEMPLE OF CRONUS The Individual Man exits the temple and is met by VADIM and VIKTOR. Vadim is the new head of the KGB, Viktor is his young assistant. The men walk away.EXT. SPACE A spacecraft orbits the earth. SUPER TITLE - 3a.m. EST November 4 2016 INT. SPACECRAFT A three person crew performs tasks. Dialog in Russian with English subtitles. CREW 1 Well where are we now with the program? Crew 2 Almost. Crew 3 I have them and they are waiting. EXT. SPACE The spacecraft passes over Greenland. CREW 2 (V.O.) It’s ready. CREW 3 (V.O.) Victory, victory. On my count. 9, 8, 7, 6, ... EXT. SPACE Camera POV above the satellite as it flies over the eastern seaboard and heads west across the middle of the United States. As the satellite moves east to west across America, small green laser lights beam down to the middle of each state. They flash four times and then stop. FADE OUT. INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - NEWSMAN NEWSMAN Candidate Mark Davilla has conceded. Dionysius (Dion) Dodge will be the next president of the United States. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Senator Marshal JEFFERSON sits at his desk. His aide AARON Clements stands in front of the desk. AARON I think the other side of the aisle will secretly cheer his win. JEFFERSON Of course, he will destroy our party. AARON Then why did you vote for him? JEFFERSON I didn’t, and you never heard that. AARON You didn’t vote for the party candidate, I can’t believe that... yes I can. JEFFERSON You too? AARON Yes, and because I’m loyal to the party. But this man... there is something wrong in his world. Do you know he prays to an ancient Greek god. What will we do, what can we do? JEFFERSON But he’s a Christian, he say’s he is. You’re right, his world... Jefferson shakes his head, stands and walks to his window and peers out. EXT. CAPITOL BUILDING A large group of people of all ages and colors are demonstrating carrying assorted placards that read: We refuse to accept a fascist America - Cult Leader of hate - The Dion, White Supremacist. Some show The Dion as Hitler, Mussolini, a raging insane face. INT. OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS (The Dion) DODGE - NIGHT   (It is now revealed that the Individual Man from the temple of Cronus is, The Dion.) THE DION enters his office. He is mid-sixties, overweight and wears an outlandish toupee. Waiting are his two closest advisors, Les BENSON and SANDY Sully. Dion walks to his elaborate desk and sits on one corner facing the advisors sitting together on a couch. THE DION What happened today that I won’t like? BENSON An angry demonstration at the Capitol. THE DION How many? SANDY Not large, a couple of hundred... THE DION Couple of hundred, good. Soon they will love me so much, they'll invest in my new Vodka products. BENSON Vodka product? THE DION I bought out a vodka distillery in Saint Petersburg. SANDY They make vodka in Florida? THE DION Russia. And when I import it here, it will become the biggest selling vodka in America. SANDY You can’t do that. THE DION Why. SANDY You will be the president of the United States in two months. THE DION Please! I can do whatever I want, who’s going to stop me. Beside my people support me in whatever I do. So just go out there and look pretty and say what your told to say. SANDY I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to question you... Benson stands, moves away from the couch. BENSON Ah, you have a meeting with General Lindsey in one hour. THE DION Call him and tell him I want to meet at Brussels for dinner, I forgot I have a date with Annie. SANDY Your girlfriend is going to sit in on a meeting with the general. THE DION I’ll be marrying Annie after I’m in the White House. Need a First Lady and Annie is smart and loyal. Plus a royal wedding will be good press. BENSON And the most beautiful woman in Washington. THE DION Thank you. (Turns to Sandy) Don’t you agree? SANDY In the world! Sandy quickly turns and as she walks away, she removes her cell phone. THE DION I might even invite the Taco wagon loser. Close-up Sandy talking. She has a couple of tears forming. INT. SPACE COMMAND CENTER - KOSMICHESKIE VOYSKA ROSSII People sitting at various computer monitoring screens. Two men stand and talk, VIKTOR Guskov and VADIM Trukhin VIKTOR Success is a wonderful feeling. VADIM Agreed. Two more phases and the assassination will be done. A WOMAN at one of the monitors turns in her chair to face the two men and waves them over to her monitor. WOMAN Excuse me, we have an anomaly. They walk over and stare at her screen. VADIM What does it mean? WOMAN All information may revert back to the original. VIKTOR It makes no difference, it’s over. VADIM Maybe, but if there is a paper trail recount... INT. HOTEL ROOM Two men are in the room, retired army Lieutenant General John MITCHAM and retired Admiral LINDSEY McMillan.   LINDSEY John, I understand you have four Majors and one Colonel on board. Their all retired, right? MITCHAM Correct. LINDSEY We need more active duty guys onboard... MITCHAM I’m talking to a Lieutenant Colonel now, and he say’s he has a couple of Captains with Iraq experience with him.   LINDSEY Good, we will need some down-line officers when it happens. Let’s break this up for now, I have a meeting with our boy. Lindsey’s cell phone rings, he listens. LINDSEY OK... With his girlfriend? He snaps the phone shut. LINDSEY Loose canon is a polite term. EXT. SMITHSTONIAN MUSEUM   The two men exit and begin a slow walk down Constitution Avenue. They are KILLJOY and BO NELSON KILLJOY The assassination will happen. BO NELSON When? KILLJOY Not sure, but I’m thinking soon after the inauguration. We have till then to get our plans in working order, and then call a meeting of our people to give them their final orders. BO NELSON So we're looking at early March for our final briefing.   KILLJOY Yes, we have men loyal to the cause in law enforcement all over the country. We will identify every possible location that may have a significant demonstration. There should be a minium of three of our people in these locations. BO NELSON Amazing that so many are ready to do this. KILLJOY They must follow orders to the letter to guarantee the results of the demonstrations go according to our design. BO NELSON Are we getting everything we asked for? KILLJOY As soon as he is installed in the White House, every National Guard division will be ordered to supply the weaponry. BO NELSON Some governors will resist. LEWIS We have more governors then they do, the states that won’t cooperate will be covered by our states. The two men continue down Constitution Avenue, then turn right on ninth street toward the mall EXT. THE MALL WASHINGTON DC Drone shot of Killjoy and Bo Nelson walking toward the Washington Monument. BO NELSON (V.O.) I wonder what George would think about a new founder of the country? KILLJOY(V.O.) Interesting thought because in the beginning, as commander in chief, many considered Washington as a king. BO  NELSON (V.O.) But Washington resigned as commander-in-chief, rather than seize power, proving his opposition to dictatorship and his commitment to American republicanism. KILLJOY (V.O.) A true patriot, wonder how he would feel in today’s world. They stop at the foot of the monument, and both look up to the top at the same time. Camera pushes to the top of the monument. EXT. MILITIA CAMP FLORIDA EVERGLADES Small house on poles with steps down to the ground. A group of men in Camo clothing sit and talk. All have assault type weapons. The leader of the group is Bert ULSTERMAN. ULSTERMAN The day we have all dreamed of is coming. We’ll be shipping boatloads of them back to where they came from. The white race will rule again. He lifts his fist and screams white power. All the others do the same. ULSTERMAN OK, OK, now we get to work building bombs, lots of bombs. INT. HALLS OF CONGRESS Jefferson walks down the hall reading some papers. Aaron from behind jogs up and grabs Jefferson arm. Jefferson turns while pulling his arm fee. JEFFERSON What the hell is this... AARON I’m sorry sir... Metcalfe is pushing for a re-count. JEFFERSON That’s not going to happen. My office, twenty minutes, better bring that computer GEEK we just hired. Jefferson hurry’s through the hall. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Jefferson is standing at his desk with his lap top open. His Secretary enters. JEFFERSON Make a reservation for three at the Grill, tonight, eight... SECRETARY Yes sir, you know that’s about an hour away in Strasburg. JEFFERSON Make the reservation. She leaves. Jefferson takes out his cell phone and punches in a number. JEFFERSON CARL, this is urgent, meet me at the Grill restaurant in Strasburg, eight tonight. He listens. JEFFERSON Cancel it, this is more important than you can imagine. Yes, I know about Metcalf asking for recount. Jefferson snaps the phone closed. He walks to his window and stares out. Anti-The Dion protestors march. Aaron enters with the GEEK Jefferson turns from the window. JEFFERSON (To Geek) How does an electronic re-count work? GEEK A couple of ways, they can prompt the machines to re-calculate the digital vote, or just do a paper trail where they have them. My guess they will first re-Calculate, it’s quicker. JEFFERSON How can the electronic vote be altered? GEEK Basically it can’t, the equipment has built-in safeguards. I have no knowledge of any program that can over-ride that. JEFFERSON So it’s impossible! GEEK I didn’t say that... JEFFERSON Then say what the hell you mean. Is it possible? GEEK Yes... but not probable. JEFFERSON Damn. Aaron and the Geek exchange glances. JEFFERSON OK, that’s all. He waves them out. They exit. INT. BRUSSELS RESTAURANT - NIGHT Lindsey is being escorted to The Dion’s table. Brussels is a very elegant European style restaurant. They reach The Dion’s table. Seated with The Dion is ANNIE Weston, a super model look with long strawberry blonde hair, and when she stands she is nearly six feet tall. THE DION General Lindsey. ANNIE Good evening General. Nice of you to join us. Waiter approaches. Lindsey Bombay Sapphire, extra dry, straight up. Waiter looks to The Dion. ANNIE We’re fine. The waiter leaves the table. THE DION I assume you have everything in order. LINDSEY Going well except we are going to have problems with some of the governors. THE DION Buy them! LINDSEY We’ll try. THE DION Everyone can be bought. LINDSEY You heard, Metcalf is demanding a re-count. THE DION Believe me, that won’t happen. LINDSEY I don’t know, he has a lot of friends in congress. ANNIE Wasn’t he recently divorced? LINDSEY Something about an affair with his assistant. The Dion looks at Annie with a big grin on his face. The waiter arrives with Lindsey’s drink. THE DION Go ahead and order, we have. Lindsey picks up the menu. THE DION Tell me about your meeting in Beaufort. Lindsey looks at Annie. THE DION Your meeting in Beaufort. EXT. National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Washington DC Two men stand and talk next to lion statue. They are FBI agents Jake FELDMAN, mid-thirties and Tony RUSSO, mid to late twenties. Both are from Jewish families. Feldman’s great grandmother, a survivor of the Holocaust, And Russo’s great grandfather, an immigrant from the Jewish ghetto of Rome Italy. FELDMAN Anyone else know about this? RUSSO No, I stumbled across it when I was checking out a closed file on Martin Luther King. FELDMAN Closed file on an assassination plot, how old is the report? RUSSO That’s what caught my attention, last month. FELDMAN Who would close a file in one month? RUSSO The DEPUTY DIRECTOR. FELDMAN Oh, oh... RUSSO Covering somebody’s ass... FELDMAN Why cover-up an assassination conspiracy? RUSSO Pretty sketchy, huh? FELDMAN What do you want to do? RUSSO I don’t know, talk to Daniels, maybe nothing. Let’s go get some coffee. They walk down the path away from the lion statue. INT. GRILL RESTAURANT - NIGHT Jefferson, Aaron and Carl sit at a table. CARL (A little loud) Come-on Marshal, an assassination? That’s a daily rumor. JEFFERSON Lower your voice. (He whispers)I don’t know who, but someone is going to kill Dion. I have my computer guy trying to trace the E-mail. When we pinpoint the time, we’ll see if any cameras at the library can spot who sent it. AARON This is serious, an assassination of a president elect. CARL (Smiles) and we want to stop  it... JEFFERSON Not funny Carl, I hate the son-of-bitch too, but... CARL Is this why we are having dinner way out here? AARON There are thousands of ears everywhere in D.C. We must find out who and stop it. CARL Did it say the word assassination? JEFFERSON Clearly mentioned assassination, but no name. CARL Then how do you know it’s Dion? JEFFERSON I don’t know for sure, but who else could it be? AARON In the subject box it said ancient Greek despot. That’s Dion Dodge, who else do you know that fits that character? You’re an expert on Greek history... CARL Ah yes, Dionysius. The Dion’s given name. Dionysius’s, the very worst of a despot-leader. JEFFERSON And? CARL After Syracuse fell he was made supreme leader. He was given six hundred personal mercenaries, to guard him. After faking an attack on his own life, he was able to increase his guard to one thousand. He consolidated his power and established himself as a tyrant. JEFFERSON Could that be what he’s planning? CARL Get real Marshal, that’s La-La Land stuff. But, I can believe, someone really wants to take him out. He’s made a lot of enemies.   AARON Then back to the original thought, do we warn him? JEFFERSON Not just yet, let’s make sure it’s not one of our friends. AARON And if he’s killed in the meantime... JEFFERSON We have enough time to find out. We handle this ourselves, and keep it top secret quite. CARL OK, but I still think it’s LA LA land stuff, Seven Days In May. AARON Seven Days In May??? CARL A movie, rent it... The waiter arrives with their food. INT. HOME OF THE RUSSO FAMILY - PHILADELPHIA - NIGHT Russo sits at the family table with his father MICHAEL and younger sister LELA as his mother, SARAH fills their plates with pasta. She sets the bowl down and takes a seat at the table. Michael twirls his pasta on a fork, stops and looks around the table. MICHAEL I thought you were making garlic bread... SARAH It’s in the oven, I’ll get it. She stands and heads to the kitchen. MICHAEL I hope it not burned. SARAH I turned the oven off, maybe it’s OK. LELA Catch any bad guys lately? RUSSO Nope. MICHAEL Why not, the country is full of them. Thank god we have a new president. RUSSO You voted for him? MICHAEL Of course, you think I would vote for that crook Templeton? Didn’t you vote for him? LELA I didn’t! He’s a racist, misogynist, self serving hypocrite. And he hates Jews. MICHAEL You have to quit hanging out with all those libtard friends of yours. Sarah returns with the garlic bread. SARAH Who you talking about, the Dion? RUSSO I didn’t vote for him either. He is all the things Lela said, but I believe he’ll plunge our country into isolationism and start wars with every country that disagrees with him. Sara places the garlic bread on the table and sits. SARAH I think that’s a little harsh. We must give him a chance. LELA Mother, I can’t believe you voted for him. SARAH I talked it over with your father, and... LELA We’re Jews, he hates... MICHAEL Many of our friends are not aware we are Jews, they see our Italian last name... SARAH Italian Jews, it is a bit strange to them. MICHAEL They never heard of the Ghetto in Rome! RUSSO Let’s change the subject. How do you think the Jets will do this year? They start eating. MICHAEL They have a good team, some really good rookies. Should kick the butts off of the Giants. Lela stands. LELA Thanks mom for another great meal. SARAH You’ve haven’t eaten... LELA Enough, I’m still on that diet. So a little pasta goes a long way. SARAH Eat a little more... LELA I have to go, my roommate and I are looking for a new stereo system and Macy’s is having a sale on them. She leaves. MICHAEL Her roommate. How come we never meet her roommate? Russo and his mother exchange glances. Russo stands. RUSSO I need to get back to DC tonight. Thanks mom. Love you guys. Russo exits. MICHAEL Is her roommate a man or a woman? SARAH I don’t know, she never mentions. MICHAEL God I hope it’s not a woman. SARAH Why? Michael slowly moves his head side to side and hold his hands up in prayer. Sarah shrugs, stands and removes plates from the table. EXT. FAIRFAX VIRGINIA - SHOPPING MALL - NIGHT Feldman and his wife, NIKKI stroll through the mall. NIKKI Let’s go to Tiffany’s. FELDMAN And do what? NIKKI Oh, just look around, we‘re killing time until the movie starts, right. FELDMAN We could look around just as well at Penny’s. NIKKI Not is much fun... Anything interesting you can talk about? FELDMAN Not really, Russo and I are working on that serial killer case in Georgia. NIKKI Never mind, I don’t want to hear about that. Look. Nikki walks over to a Bed, Bath and Beyond window. EXT. SEA GULF PIER ON CHESAPEAKE BAY Russo, Feldman and a third man, JONATHAN KAUFMANN. Kaufmann is a fraternity brother of Feldman. They walk along the pier carrying fishing poles and tackle boxes. They stop at a spot far away from the few other fishermen out on a cold and cloudy day. Each man begins to prepare the poles for a day of fishing. RUSSO It must be fifty below zero today. FELDMAN Forty five, above, and that’s too cold for me. RUSSO Then why are we here... FELDMAN Ask my brother. RUSSO Right you guy’s were fraternity brothers at Duke. Heard you belonged to some secret Society, which one. KAUFFMAN You know, if we told you we would... RUSSO Have to kill me, really which one? FELDMAN No Jonathan, I like him, I want to keep him around. KAUFFMAN OK. So who’s going to win the Superbowl? Russo’s face shows a big surprised look. RUSSO Ah, um, Jets, no doubt about it. FELDMAN Redskins, whoops, I mean Washington. KAUFFMAN Both wrong, Seattle. What can I do to help... FELDMAN We can’t go poking around, the Deputy Director will get wind of it and... RUSSO We think it’s for real, and if he’s covering it up, it has to be orders from the director. FELDMAN It sounds nuts, but I’m scared and I don’t scare easy. RUSSO You’ve been working deep for years, and you only report to the director. Nobody is going to question your interest in the matter. FELDMAN Maybe the Deputy Director, but who is going to go to him about your activities. Hell they're not even supposed to know you exists. KAUFFMAN Do I have everything you know? FELDMAN Yes. Kaufmann casts a line out into the bay. EXT. BEAUFORT COUNTY AIRPORT SC A Beach King Air outside a hanger as two men walk around the aircraft. They are Killjoy and THOMPSON. Killjoy is doing a pilots pre-flight inspection. KILLJOY You have to be kidding, Bo Nelson, a plant? THOMPSON My men were undercover attending an anti-Dion meeting. They were instructed to photograph some of the leaders. When we reviewed the photos, we noticed a face in the background of one of the photos that looked familiar. We enhanced, and it turned out to be BO Nelson. Have you confronted him? THOMPSON No, we wanted to get your advice... KILLJOY Hold off, he may have also been undercover. I’ll talk to him and see if I can bring up some of his investigations. Maybe he’ll mention that meeting. THOMPSON If he’s a bad guy, he knows too much to stay alive. KILLJOY I know. Want to go for a ride? THOMPSON I think I'll pass, I’m running late for another appointment. They shake hands. KILLJOY We need to know about Bo Nelson. INT. A GULFSTREAM G650 - MAIN CABIN Bo Nelson is sitting in the main cabin alone. He turns to stare out the window. Sandy enter hands a beer to him. He takes the beer and starts to drink out of the bottle. SANDY Would you like a glass? BO NELSON Nah, where’s The Dion? SANDY Up front talking to the captain. And you should call him mister Dodge, or mister president. Bo returns to the window and then turns back to Sandy. BO NELSON I bet he likes that. It’s really big. SANDY What is? BO NELSON Lake Michigan, were flying over it. SANDY Oh. I’ll be right back. She leaves the main cabin. Bo turns back to the window. INT. A GULFSTREAM G650 - COCKPIT AREA Sandy approaches The Dion, who is leaning in talking to the pilots. SANDY Excuse me. The Dion turns. THE DION I’ll be right there, keep him entertained for a couple more minutes. INT. A GULFSTREAM G650 - MAIN CABIN Bo is standing as Sandy enters. SANDY Need a refill? Bo holds up the bottle. BO NELSON Not yet. Sandy moves to a window. SANDY Where are we now? BO NELSON Just crossed over Chicago, saw the Sears Tower. The Dion enters. THE DION Sheriff Nelson. They shake hands. They sit. THE DION Exterminate any criminals lately? The Dion laughs. Bo Nelson’s face say’s... what? THE DION A joke Bo, you were in the exterminating business before you ran for sheriff, right. BO NELSON Oh yea, right. Only for a couple of years. THE DION What did you do before that? BO NELSON In the Army, an MP. THE DION So you do have police experience? BO NELSON Yes. THE DION Sandy, a drink, Bo, another beer. Bo now holds up his empty bottle. Sandy exits. The Dion leans toward Bo’s ear and whispers... EXT. FLATHEAD LAKE- NEAR THE BORDER OF MONTANA AND IDAHO Two men fishing. They are Montana Senator, Dusty BINGHAM and Idaho Senator Norbert QUILL. Both are retired Army generals. Several yards behind them are four men, body guards of the Senator’s. Quill’s rod bends. QUILL I got one. Feels like a monster. Quill battles with the fish on his line. Bingham moves over to their fishing gear and grabs a net. As Quill is reeling the fish in, he steps into the water, slips and fall into the two feet of water. Bingham rushes over and helps him up. Quills continues to reel the fish in as he steps out of the water. The body guards have rushed over to assist. Quill lands a big lake trout. Bingham scoops it up in the net. Quill holds his arms up in triumph. His bodyguard steps forward and Quill hands him the rod and reel. Bingham holds out the fish to Quill. They stand together as Quill holds up the fish. Another bodyguard snaps a photo with his iPhone. The group moves toward two SUV’s parked a short distance away. INT. RESTAURANT OVERLOOKING THE LAKE Quill and Bingham enter followed by the bodyguards. Quill heads toward the reastroom sign and disappears around a corner. Bingham heads to a table and sits. The bodyguards take a nearby table. A waitress approaches Bingham’s table with menus and a pitcher of water. She places the menu's on the table and pours water into two glasses. The waitress walks back to a counter for more menu's and a pitcher of water that she delivers to the bodyguards table. Quill approaches the table with Bingham, drying the top of his head with a paper towel. The waitress approaches with a regular towel and hands it to Quill. He sits and continues to dry his head. Bingham picks up a menu and studies it. Quill finishes drying his hair and hands it to the waitress who just walked to the table. Quill picks up his menu. QUILL That was some fish. BINGHAM Compared to the one I caught, your’s looked like Moby Dick. QUILL I love fishing. BINGHAM Yep, and we are very lucky to live in two states with some of the best fishing in the country. What are you having? QUILL The Ruben, it’s the best thing on the menu. The waitress returns. BINGHAM Two Ruben’s and two bottles of Coors. It looks like Metcalf is going to get his re-count. QUILL Don’t think so. BINGHAM Why’s that? QUILL He’s broke, his ex-wife walked with most of the money. BINGHAM So... QUILL As The Dion say’s... Waitress arrives with the beers. EXT. OPEN SEA - NIGHT A GULFSTREAM G650 cruises over a calm sea. INT. A GULFSTREAM G650 The Dion, Sandy, Benson and Lindsey. Sandy is serving drinks. As she walks back to the bar, Lindsey checks out her body. He gives The Dion a little wink and smiles. The Dion smiles back. Benson eyes are glued to his laptop. BENSON Victor Guskov and Vadim Trukin will be there. I couldn't find out who else might be there. LINDSEY Vadim is the new KGB boss. BENSON Took over after Akim Koslav disappeared. Premier Konstantinov, say one thing against him... THE DION People should learn not to insult their leader. SANDY I heard he only disagreed on a new government project. THE DION A good way to disappear. Annie enters the cabin and sits next to The Dion. THE DION I’ve arranged for you to see your mother Annie smiles. A FLIGHT ATTENDANT approaches from the cockpit area.. FLIGHT ATTENDANT Half hour mister president. Flight Attendant leaves. THE DION I like that more than I thought I would. SANDY What? THE DION Mister President. I’m a president now of a world wide corporation, but soon... BENSON Of the United States. THE DION And Dion Industries, I’m not giving that up. SANDY We may have a fight on our hands if... I’m sorry, I’m not disagreeing with you. Um, I, I... THE DION Go fix me another drink, and one for yourself. Calm down, it’s OK, I still love you. INT. RESTAURANT HAVANA CUBA Vadim and Viktor sit at a table. VIKTOR You do know he’s insane! VADIM That is why we can not trust him, completely. Konstantinov indicated he will do as told or... VIKTOR If they succeed in forcing the re-count, who would replace him... Vadim points with his chin. The Dion, Benson and Sandy enter and walk to their table. Two of The Dion’s bodyguards follow and place themselves on either side of the doorway. Benson and Sandy are carrying briefcases. Sandy pulls a chair out for The Dion, and he sits. Benson and Sandy sit. VIKTOR Annie, where is she, I’m anxious to meet the next first Lady THE DION She’s having dinner with her mother and other members of the family. VADIM Very nice gesture, no wonder everyone loves you in America. BENSON I didn’t know Annie was Cuban, she looks European. THE DION A Russian family that settled in Cuba after Castro took over. BENSON Oh. Benson opens his briefcase and passes two large envelops to Viktor and Vadium. BENSON Lists of office holders that are not with us. Senators, Congressmen, Governor’s, mayors etcetera. THE DION Find ways to marginalize them. Some information to have them removed from office. BENSON Arrested... VIKTOR Arrested? THE DION Bribery, racketeering, embezzlement, hell think of something... pornography, child pornography, just do it. We need to be prepared if the re-count happens. VIKTOR Can’t you make it happen again. BENSON The recount doesn’t work that way, the system only affects electronic votes. The paper trails are the problem. SANDY That’s enough states to change an election... THE DION I’ll make sure that never happens. The Dion stands. Benton and Sandy stand. VADIM You’re not joining us for supper? The waiter arrives. THE DION We’re meeting Annie and her family. The Dion turns to the waiter. THE DION I love the Cuban people. No one loves the Cuban people more than me. Believe it. They leave the restaurant. Vadim and Viktor watch them exit, both shaking their heads. INT. HAVANA RESTAURANT At a large table, eight people are having dinner. A band is playing a mambo. Annie is dancing with a young Cuban man. The Dion enters with his body guards. He surveys the room first POV is of the large table. An elderly woman waves to him, its Annie’s mother ESMERALDA. He approaches the table and gives Esmeralda a kiss on the cheek and looks around the table. THE DION Where’s Annie. The music is very loud. ESMERALDA What? The Dion looks toward the dance floor and sees Annie with a young man her age. THE DION What the hell is she doing... ESMERALDA Oh, relax, its her cousin ARTURO. The Dion walks out onto the dance floor. Annie sees him and breaks away from Arturo and grabs The Dion and starts dancing. The Dion is not a very good mambo dancer. THE DION Your cousin. ANNIE Yes, Arturo and I grew up together. They continue to dance. INT. HAVANA HOTEL BAR Benson and Sandy sit at a table. The Dion enters with his bodyguards and approaches their table. THE DION Better get some sleep, we’re leaving at five in the morning. SANDY Where's Annie? THE DION Staying at her mothers tonight, we’ll pick her up on the way to the airport. Sandy and Benson stand and leave with The Dion. Body guards in front and back. INT. THE DION’S HOTEL ROOM - LATER The Dion is on his laptop. He hears a knock at his door. He walks to the door and peers through the peephole. POV, Sandy’s face. He opens the door and she steps in closing the door behind her. She puts her arms around his neck and kisses him. SANDY Miss me, or is Annie all you can handle? Moon over Havana. INT. THE DION’S HOTEL BEDROOM He and Sandy have wild sex. Moon over Havana INT. BEDROOM DOORS TO A BALCONY A breeze is stirring the curtains to reveal the moon over Havana. ANNIE (O.C.) Si primo, mi primo favorito. Subtitle reads, Yes my cousin, my most favorite cousin. Annie and Arturo in bed. Arturo rolls over and begins licking Annie’s body. He starts at her breast and then down past her bellybutton. Close-up on Annie’s face as she moans. ANNIE Mi primo favorito. INT. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON - MORNING Jefferson is on the phone when Aaron enters. JEFFERSON I need to go, yes tonight. And next time call on my secure line. Jefferson snaps the phone shut. JEFFERSON What do we have from the GEEK? AARON Not much, even tho the computer stations are covered by security cameras, there are times that people block a view to different computers. JEFFERSON Any other way we can trace that e-mail? AARON We’re running the video footage through a face recognizing program to see if it brings up anyone we know. JEFFERSON Check out the outside cameras too. AARON Right, didn’t think of that. JEFFERSON Anything from the other side on this? AARON No, nothing and I find that strange. JEFFERSON Why’s that? AARON If the they don’t know by now, or if they are ignoring it, they're behind it. Maybe we need to confront Langford... INT. OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS DODGE The Dion is at his desk typing into his laptop. The clock on his desk shows four AM Thompson enters. THE DION Ah, Rocky, just a minute, I’m on Twitter. Have a seat. Rocky Thompson sits and stares at the walls covered with memorabilia. Camera pans the walls: On one wall there is a giant painting of The Dion. Surrounding the painting are photos of The Dion and world famous people. With Ronald Reagan, both of the Bush presidents, the Beatles, Hilary and Bill Clinton, Pope John, Benjamin "Bibi" Netanyahu, Vladimir Putin. Another wall filled with The Dion posing in front of his many business enterprises. Hotels, Country Clubs, Casinos, wine racks. The third wall, The Dion with many different beautiful women. The fourth wall, behind his desk is all glass, with a view to a grand garden. Much like a palace would have. The Dion closes his laptop. THE DION Sorry to get you here so early, but I do my best work at this time. THOMPSON No problem, I’m up every day at five, workout for an hour, then go have coffee with the locals from my town. THE DION They love you? My people love me more than anything, you can take that to the bank. THOMPSON I’m pretty well liked, in fact... The Dion cuts him off. THE DION Bo nelson, what’s the problem. I like Bo. THOMPSON He was seen at an anti... you, meeting. THE DION I was told about that and I talked to Bo, he assured me he was their doing surveillance on who attended. That’s good work for me. So you can just forget the idea that Bo is a threat to us. Believe me. THOMPSON OK, I trust your judgement, that’s why I voted for you. THE DION Thank you. About the election, you know, Metcalf is demanding a paper trail recount. THOMPSON I know. THE DION We don’t want that. THOMPSON Will it produce a problem... THE DION Oh no, I won by a landslide, but we can’t take any chances with my enemies. THOMPSON They need to be rounded up and sent back to where they came from. THE DION I understand your thought, but many of them were born here. THOMPSON So put them somewhere that keeps them quite. The Dion stands and walks toward the door between two of the walls. THE DION Come with me. He opens the door and waves Thompson inside. Thompson enters the darkened room. INT. OUTER OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS DODGE Sandy is sitting at her desk as Benson enters and heads toward The Dion office door. BENSON I need to talk to him. SANDY Not now, he’s in the secure room with Rocky Thompson. BENSON What’s going on? SANDY Who knows. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR JUSTIN LANGFORD - DAY Close-up on television screen, BREAKING NEWS - BREAKING NEWS. Face of NEWS ANNOUNCER with video of woods in the background. NEWS ANNOUNCER This just in. The body of Senator Conrad Metcalf found early this morning. Langford sits at his desk facing the television. His jaw drops and an anger covers his face. LANGFORD Them sons of bitches. Langford’s assistant, OWEN Andrews, burst through the door. OWEN Did you hear? LANGFORD I’m watching it now. Close-up television screen. NEWS ANNOUNCER Metcalf, recently divorced father of three, apparently killed himself with a pistol found at his feet. LANGFORD Never, he would have never killed himself. I know the man... he was a fighter. He was murdered because of the re-count demand. INT. FBI OFFICES WASHINGTON DC - ASSOCIATE DEPUTY DIRECTOR DANIELS       Associate Deputy Director DANIELS looks up from his desk as Russo and Feldman enter. DANIELS Good morning, have seat. They sit. Daniels opens his desk drawer and removes an envelope and places on the desk. DANIELS You’re being taken off of the serial killer case. I’m assigning you full time to the Metcalf’s death. FELDMAN The bureau thinks there is something there? DANIELS Let’s just say, I would like you to look into to it. Good. Daniels pushes the envelope toward the men. Feldman picks it up. RUSSO Good. The men exit the office. INT. FBI OFFICES Feldman and Russo walk and talk. RUSSO You think he’s doing this on his own. FELDMAN Not sure. Doesn’t make a difference, he’s our boss. RUSSO Just following orders, right. Montage: Feldman and Russo searching the area around Metcalf’s death site. Searching his office. Removing his computer. Questions his staff. INT. HOME OF METCALF’S EX-WIFE - KITCHEN Metcalf’s ex-wife MRS. METCALF is serving coffee to Feldman and Russo. MRS. METCALF Connie and I divorced after a year long separation. We reconciled a couple of times, but then realized it was better to divorce. Our children are adults, and we have been basically leading separate lives. Politics was Connie’s love. RUSSO They claim he took is own life... MRS. METCALF I don’t believe that, it was not in his nature to give up. The two men stand. FELDMAN Thank you for your time, I know it’s not easy losing a loved one. MRS. METCALF Yes, I never stopped loving Connie, even after... She begins sobbing. INT. FELDMAN VAN Feldman driving, Russo in passenger seat. FELDMAN I think we do a full court press into The Dion. RUSSO We better get Daniels OK on this. INT. OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS DODGE - NIGHT The Dion, Sandy, Benson and Annie, watching television. THE DION It will be official today, but I’ve felt like the president for weeks now. Annie reaches out and gently squeezes The Dion’s hand. Close-up on their hands coupled. Close-up on the TV, NEWS ANCHOR reading a sheet of paper. Flashing on the screen, Breaking News, Breaking News. Benson picks up the remote and turns up the volume as the News Anchor begins to speak. NEWS ANCHOR I’ve just received an incredible new update. For the first time in history the Electoral College has rejected the election results and have given the election to Mark Ramon Davilla. Son of Cuban Immigrants. Davilla was born in Miami. At age eighteen, his parents immigrated to Israel  when he was eighteen. Davilla refused to leave with his parents. Close-up on The Dion’s face. THE DION He’s a Jew? NEWS ANCHOR Graduated from Sanford and received his law degree from the University of Chicago... Close-up The Dion THE DION No, no, I’m the president, not this two bit taco pusher. (Screaming) No, they can’t do this, I’ll sue them, I’ll sue all of them. The Dion becomes unhinged, he throws things, upends a table, repeatedly kicks the office couch. Annie rushes to him. ANNIE Please calm down, they can hear you in the outer office. The desk phone on his desk beeps. Benson picks it up, listens and then replaces it. Annie is continuing to calm down The Dion. Several beats later he collapses onto the couch. Benson approaches. BENSON Media people are in the outer office. ANNIE Already? THE DION Of course, I’m The Dion. (To Benson) What do I say. Sandy approaches. SANDY You tell them this is not over, the Congress still must agree, and that won’t happen because the Congress knows you’re the better candidate and you won. THE DION I need to go on the network talk shows. SANDY Alright, I’ll go out there and deliver your comment about its not over yet. THE DION No, let Benson do that. But go with him, and give me some privacy for awhile, I need to pray. Sandy’s facial expression at that comment shows utter bewilderment. She leaves and closes the door behind her. The Dion walks to a wall, drops to his knees and places his face on the floor. THE DION (In prayer.) Almighty Cronus have mercy on your soldier, who was born from the flesh of Dionysius, your faithful and loyal subject. My enemies grow strong, send me the plan to destroy them. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR JUSTIN LANGFORD His entire staff is in his office milling about. Laughing, shaking hands. Celebrating. OWEN The tweets were insane, and he did them at four am. The staff burst out in another fir of laughter. JUSTIN LANGFORD Doesn’t make up for Metcalf, but it helps. OWEN The Congress will re-install him. JUSTIN LANGFORD I know, but let’s enjoy it for now. OWEN You have a meeting in one hour. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Aaron enters. Jefferson facing the window. AARON You heard... Jefferson does not turn around. AARON People are saying he’s completely unhinged. Ranting Tweets, threatening to sue the entire Electoral College. Jefferson turns around wearing a huge smile on his face. Aaron at first is stunned, then he begins to giggle. Jefferson try’s to hold it in, but then erupts in laughter. Both men laugh hysterically. Slowly their laughter subsides. Jefferson walks to Aaron and puts an arm around his shoulder. JEFFERSON Ah, that felt good. The jackass had it coming. But, it won’t last. AARON Of course, but it was fun. Jefferson walks to the liquor cabinet and pours two glasses of bourbon. He hands one glass to Aaron. JEFFERSON A toast to the Electoral College, true patriots. They raise their glasses. INT. FBI OFFICES WASHINGTON DC - ASSOCIATE DEPUTY DIRECTOR DANIELS OFFICE. Feldman and Russo stand before Daniels desk. FELDMAN Pretty shocking... RUSSO And very courageous... DANIELS Courageous, in what way? RUSSO I mean it’s never been done before... DANIELS You know it won’t stick. But I agree, it was courageous. Feldman and Russo exchange glances. DANIELS I believe we are on the same page, I hope we are, because I’m about to confide in both of you, my fears about a Dodge presidency. FELDMAN We’re on the same page. Sir. DANIELS Have either one of you heard anything about an assassination? FELDMAN Yes sir, we think there is a plot to assassinate The Dion. DANIELS I’ve uncovered some information that its not about assassinating The Dion, a Senator or any one person. It’s about the assassination of America, our democracy. RUSSO I don’t understand... DANIELS My gut feeling is The Dion’s plan is to become president for life, with the help of the Russian government. FELDMAN Whoa, that’s crazy... DANIELS The plans of a Machiavellian mad man. Do we agree that there is something inherently wrong with The Dion? Feldman and Russo exchange glances again. Together they nod their heads in the affirmative. EXT. MONTAGE STREETS IN VARIOUS CITIES - MOBS Armed men and women marching carrying signs declaring support for The Dion. The Dion our hero. The Dion, our savior. The Dion, our Commander and Chief. Rise up, support The Dion. Kill all Electoral College. The Dion will send them back to where they belong. Electoral College members watch your back. INT. OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS DODGE The Dion, Annie, Sandy and Benson watch the news. COMMENTATOR Lawmakers are calling on The Dion to calm down his supporters before people are seriously hurt. THE DION Seriously hurt, if the congress doesn’t reverse this, people will be seriously dead. Cronus will act. SANDY What, Cronus? The Dion ignores Sandy’s questions. BENSON Let’s make an attempt to quiet things down. THE DION OK, Sandy, this is what you do best. Go out there and make me look good. I’m doing the Sunday talk show circuit. ANNIE Don’t do that. THE DION Excuse me... INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - SUNDAY TALK SHOW - CHUCK WHITE HOST Chuck White, The Dion, liberal panelist, Fillip ORTEGA, conservative panelist, Eric ROLLINS, and Journalist Penny PATTERSON. HOST Some are saying your reaction to the Electoral College decision was too harsh. THE DION They can’t do that, I’m the president. ROLLINS Yes, The Dion was elected president... ORTEGA You're not the president yet. The Dion lunges for the man. Camera swings away from the scene. INT. TALK SHOW PANEL - LATER Host TODD Smith and four panelist. PANELIST ONE He was right to remark he was not yet sworn in… PANELIST TWO It was not smart to bring up, he knows how The Dion reacts to negative things said about him. PANELIST THREE Wait, are you saying The Dion can't control his temper. PANELIST TWO No, he controls it very well, but now with the Electoral College refuting his win, that's big… PANELIST ONE As president of the United States, he will face much harsher criticism, how will he react then. PANELIST TWO The media, this network, is blowing this out of proportion. Nobody cares, in fact many applaud his actions, Ripely is a very aggressive interviewer, other guest on his show have reacted hostile to him during their interviews. TODD But attack, well we will soon find out how this all will end when Congress votes. PANELIST TWO (Laughing)We know how it will end since our party controls the house. And god is on The Dion’s side. PANELIST THREE Not my god... INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - EMPTY NEWS DESK As crew prepare the set for the show, the newsman Todd and the shows PRODUCER stand to the side of the news desk. PRODUCER You find it very disquieting. TODD I do, look how quite it is in here this morning. PRODUCER I know. Crew member motions to Todd. He steps up to the news desk and sits. Lights. TODD The unprecedented move by the Electoral College has been reversed by the congress. The next president of the United States will be Dionysius Dodge INT. OFFICE OF PRESIDENT ELECT DIONYSIUS DODGE The Dion at his desk shuffling papers. Benson and Sandy shuffle papers. The Dion stands and begins to pace waving his papers. THE DION General Mitcham, Admiral McMillan and General Skip Wilson. That’s my JOINT CHIEF OF STAFF. BENSON You need one more. THE DION He must be of Greek heritage... SANDY Why? THE DION Soon you will know, soon the world... He stops mid-sentence, lowers his head in thought. THE DION General Linus Nikias, get him. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Jefferson and Aaron. JEFFERSON Department of Homeland Security, Bo Nelson... AARON Surprised everyone. JEFFERSON Rothbury Michigan? Sheriff for one year? AARON He does have some police experience from his Army days. The word is that The Dion thinks Nelson is the best man for the job. JEFFERSON Right, no brains, just follows orders. Anything else. AARON Attorney General, Lamar King. JEFFERSON Oh my god, he’s not even a lawyer anymore. He was disbarred for embezzling. AARON But never indicted. JEFFERSON Nothing more, please, I can’t take anymore. The other side must be... AARON They are. Jefferson walks to the window and peers out. EXT. THE CAPITOL BUILDING Camera pushes in to the swearing ceremony of the new president of the United States, Dionysius (The Dion) Dodge. The Dion taking the oath. EXT. PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE Thousands of protesters. Rocky Thompson, out of uniform, stands on a corner, cell phone to his mouth. THOMPSON Where the hell are our people. No, I’m on Pennsylvania and Constitution. All I see are fucking liberals. Get them off the busses and walk the rest of the way. Thompson pushes his way through the crowd of protesters. Thompson crosses the street. At mid-street a young woman carrying The Dion - Fascist Pig signs, hands one to Thompson. Thompson takes the sign and crosses the rest of the way. Thompson standing on the corner holding up the protest sign and talking on his cell phone. THOMPSON Killjoy, can you hear me. I’m on Pennsylvania and Constitution. Crowds of protesters heading toward the Reflection Pool. I’ll wait here. Where are you? EXT. INDEPENDENCE AVENUE Killjoy standing amongst a crowd of people. Protesters shouting anti The Dion messages. KILLJOY I can hardly hear you. OK, but don’t wait there. We’re on Independence, passing the Library of Congress, meet us at the Grant memorial. How many with you. Good, I have thirty five, with your twenty, we will get it done. Yes, we have signs. Killjoy begins walking, a crowd of men walk with him. Thompson and his men reach the Reflection Pool. Thompson holds his sign high, twenty other protest signs go high. The twenty one men with their signs held very high move toward the Grant Memorial. Both groups of men reach the Grant memorial at the same time and begin to circle it. Thompson and Killjoy move off to the side to talk. THOMPSON Who has the smoke bombs? KILLJOY Lewis and Booker. THOMPSON Have them wait for about twenty minutes. My guys will start to rile up the anti-The Dion protestors. On my signal, set off the smoke bombs. Then everyone start yelling like the National Guard is moving in. KILLJOY My guys are waiting to bash some heads of these fucking liberals. THOMPSON Do it in the middle of the smoke. INT. TV STUDIO Close-up on Commentator Todd Smith. TODD Violence erupted today as President Elect, Dionysius (The Dion) Dodge was sworn in. Thousands of protestors disrupted traffic all across the Washington DC area. But things got out of hand at the Reflecting Pool. Montage of Thompson’s men causing violence. INT. TV STUDIO TODD Dozens of protesters were hospitalized. Some with serious injuries. Blake Barnside was at the site. Here is his report. INT. THE WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Benson and Sandy watch the news report. THE DION That’s just the beginning. Close-up on Sandy’s face shows shock. THE DION There is an event at the Partridge House in my honor. It started an hour ago. Call my driver and notify the agents that I will be leaving in fifteen minutes. INT. TV STUDIO NEWS ANCHOR cups his hand over one ear with an earpiece in it. NEWS ANCHOR This is real breaking news, ah... President Dodge has disappeared following a dinner at the Partridge House. The president dismissed his Secret Service security team saying his private security force would take over for the remainder of the night. Now the president’s whereabouts are unknown. INT. WHITE HOUSE SECRET SERVICE OFFICE Head of the president’s secret service bodyguards, Clint CHRISTOPHER, is speaking to two Secret Service AGENTS. AGENT 1 They boarded a Challenger 650. AGENT 2 Owned by Christian ORLOV, dual citizenship, here and Russia. He owns mining operations in Belarus. AGENT 1 We pressed the fuel tech, he heard Minsk mentioned. CHRISTOPHER Find out who Orlov knows in Minsk. INT. FBI OFFICES - ASSOCIATE DEPUTY DIRECTOR DANIELS OFFICE. Daniels, Feldman, Russo and Kauffman.   Russo shaking Kauffman’s hand. RUSSO Glad to see you back. KAUFFMAN We now have someone on the inside. RUSSO Who? Kauffman glances toward Daniels. DANIELS Very close to  our man, both of you will be told after Feldman gets back from Minsk. FELDMAN I’m going to Minsk, why? DANIELS The Dion is going there, and he is going alone. FELDMAN No Benson... DANIELS Nor Sandy. Kauffman will meet you. Here is the contact information. Daniels hands an envelope to Feldman. RUSSO What about me? DANIELS You will be having a meeting with a favorite of The Dion’s. INT. CAFE TANDOR - MINSK BELARUS RUSSIA Two waiters carry plates into a private dinning room. INT. PRIVATE DINNING ROOM The waiters enter with the food and place it around the table. Sitting at the table are The Dion, Vadim, Viktor and a RUSSIAN ARMY OFFICER. VADIM (To The Dion) You will love the way the mutton is cooked. THE DION I’m not a big fan of mutton. RUSSIAN ARMY OFFICER (Heavy Russian accent) A special Indian way of cooking, very tasty. THE DION (Turns to Vadim) All I heard was, “a special way of cooking. Vadim, I know you and Viktor speak English. VIKTOR The general said it is cooked at an extreme temperature inside a little oven. The Dion takes a bite. THE DION This really good, I think I will like Russian food. RUSSIAN ARMY OFFICER (In Russian) It would be wise if you would learn to love it. Ha, ha. The Dion looks at Vadim. VADIM He said there is much to like in Russia. EXT. CAFE TANDOR PARKING AREA The area is filled with vehicles. A small van pulls in and parks near the rear of the restaurant. INT. SMALL VAN Kauffman, Feldman and a third man, PERCHIK. PERCHIK This is good. FELDMAN But we don’t know where they're sitting inside. KAUFFMAN This is new. We downloaded The Dion’s voice. The equipment then searches the building for a voice match. PERCHIK Then we verify just by listing to it. FELDMAN It’s no bigger than a cell phone, we don’t have anything like that. PERCHIK When we’re done, I sell you this one for fifty thousand Euros. FELDMAN I might be able to arrange that. INT. PRIVATE DINNING ROOM Waiters are clearing the table. The Russian Army Officer raises a glass of vodka. RUSSIAN ARMY OFFICER Na zdorovie.   Viktor raises his glass. VIKTOR To your health. THE DION Is this the vodka company I bought? VADIM You bought a vodka company, which one. THE DION Dmitry, it’s made in Saint Petersburg. VADIM Sorry to say, but it’s made in China. They sell it here in Russia to American tourist. The Dion ignores this statement. THE DION The next phase is in place and ready to executed. RUSSIAN ARMY OFFICER Details please. THE DION Can we talk freely here? VIKTOR The restaurant was swept just before we arrived. It will continue... VADIM Proceed. THE DION There will be violent demonstrations across the country. VADIM You are arranging that? THE DION The demonstrators will be calling for my head. Some will be threatening to storm the White House. The national Guard will move in to break up the riots. People will be killed. There will be an attempted assassination on my life. I will increase my private security force. INT. SMALL VAN All three men listening to The Dion describe the next Phase. FELDMAN That’s all we need, let’s get out of here. KAUFFMAN Hold for another minute. INT. PRIVATE DINNING ROOM THE DION Once Marshal Law is in place, the military will take over. It will be called a Junta, but only until they re-install me as president for life. I will form a relationship with Russia, and our two countries will... A KGB MAN burst into the dinning room. KGB MAN Stop, stop, no more talking. We picked up a... Vadim jumps up. The Russian Army Officer leaps to his feet knocking the table over. VADIM Find them. VIKTOR They must have heard everything. The Russian Army Officer runs out of the dinning room. Vadim follows him. Viktor gets to the door and stops. He turns toward The Dion. THE DION They can not get away. INT. SMALL VAN KAUFFMAN Go, go, go, they have us. Perchik slams the gear into reverse and jams on the gas pedal. EXT. CAFE TANDOR PARKING AREA The van speeds away from the parking area. A black GAZ cargo van is right on their tail. Both vehicles speed down a street. From around a corner, a black Mazda sedan joins in the chase. MONTAGE: LONG CAR CHASE SCENE THAT ENDS IN THE COUNTRY WHERE THE VAN IS FORCED OFF THE ROAD OVER A CLIFF CRASHES AND EXPLODES IN A FIERY BALL. (STUNT COORDINATOR) EXT. COUNTRY ROAD The GAZ and the Mazda are parked on the side of the road. Five men observe the crash scene which is still burning as two more cars arrive. Vadim and the Russian Army Officer exit one of the cars. Viktor and The Dion exit the second car. INT. FBI OFFICES - ASSOCIATE DEPUTY DIRECTOR DANIELS OFFICE. Daniels and Russo. RUSSO No word yet? DANIELS Last was just before they set up outside the restaurant. RUSSO That’s what, three days now? DANIELS Kauffman’s the best we have. He’s been under for seven years, that’s longer than any other deep cover has ever been. Keep the faith. INT. WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Benson and Sandy. BENSON Were you happy with the distillery? SANDY Bring any samples back. THE DION The deal never went through, I’m suing... I want you to set up a meeting with Senator Quill, Bingham and Jefferson. BENSON Jefferson? THE DION He’s not on board yet, Quill and Bingham will fix that problem. Have Quill and Bingham arrive one hour earlier than Jefferson. EXT. FBI OFFICES Russo exits as his cell phone rings. He listens. RUSSO Minsk? Today? OK, in the morning. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR JUSTIN LANGFORD - NIGHT Langford is on the phone. LANGFORD He just showed up at the daily briefing like nothing happened. Minsk, Can we prove it? Only his private guard, I see. I will have a lunch with Jefferson, he won’t like this. EXT. RURAL MINSK ROAD A CAR is parked on the side of the road near the fatal accident involving Feldman, Kauffman and Perchik. INT. CAR Abram SOKOLOFF, early twenties, speaking into his cell phone. SOKOLOFF Yes, look for my car on the side of the road, white... Sokoloff looks in the rearview mirror. A car approaches and stops several yards behind him and Russo exits the car. Sokoloff exits his car. Russo approaches Sokoloff. RUSSO Shalom. SOKOLOFF Shalom. Follow me. Sokoloff walks a short distance and then climbs down hill adjoining the road. Russo follows. The two men descend through the trees. RUSSO Is this where the car went over, why didn’t the trees stop it? SOKOLOFF No, this is an easy way down, then we cut across. The car landed at the bottom of a steep cliff. They continue down through the trees. They arrive at a spot where Sokoloff turns. Russo follows him through the trees until they emerge from the trees at the base of a cliff. Russo looks up toward the road and then back to the bottom of the cliff. RUSSO The car? SOKOLOFF Everything was collected and transported to a place where they went over the entire pile of debris. You can see where they even collected the soil. Sokoloff points to a cleared area. RUSSO So what do you expect to find? SOKOLOFF Probably nothing, but we look. After, I have a piece of equipment, the same that Perchik was using, you are to take it back with you. Montage of the men begin combing the area. Much later they stand exhausted. SOKOLOFF We go to town, have dinner. In the morning you will be picked up at a small abandon airport. Russo starts climbing up the cliff facing searching. SOKOLOFF What are you doing? Russo continues his search. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Jefferson, Quill and Bingham. The Dion approaches the door to the security room, he opens it and waves the three men in. They enter. The Dion stands holding the door open until they enter, and then closes the door and walks away. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Marshall and Aaron. Daniels enters. Aaron closes the door. Daniels You asked to see me? JEFFERSON You have been investigating the Metcalf death. Daniels (On guard) Yes. But I can’t discuss it, it’s ongoing. JEFFERSON That’s not why I asked you here. I need advice on how to handle a threat against a Senator and his family. Jefferson waves Daniels to a chair and then sits at his desk. Daniels sits and then turns to look at Aaron. JEFFERSON Aaron knows everything. Daniels What is everything... INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - SUNDAY TALK SHOW Host TODD Smith and four panelist. PANELIST ONE CIA Retired General King, FBI General Booker. And he’s considering General Hokes for Department of Defense. PANELIST TWO Well of course you would want a man with military experience to head DOD... PANELIST THREE That’s three retired Generals, isn’t there a non Army individual... PANELIST TWO Yes, he will appoint retired Navy Admiral Norquist to head the FBI. Navy... PANELIST ONE This is insane, it looks like a military junta. Panelist Two smiles. PANELIST TWO You’re blowing this out of proportion. TODD We’ll just have to leave it at that. Let’s move on. Big game this Sunday, what are your picks. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL Office - NIGHT The Dion, Sandy and Benson. THE DION Sandy, make it official on the Norquist appointment. Benson, arrange a meeting with General Vincent regarding the Secretary of State appointment. Annie explodes into the room screaming. ANNIE They have arrested my cousin Arturo. He was brutally beaten and thrown into the Ariza prison. You must help him. Do something, now. Annie sobbing hysterically. ANNIE Please... THE DION (Cold) He insulted the president. ANNIE (Harsh) Everyone insults the president. THE DION There is nothing I can do... ANNIE You made it happen. You know, don’t you. You know about Arturo and I... THE DION No, why don’t you tell me... Annie storms out of the office. Sandy smiling. BENSON Can she hurt you? THE DION I never tell her anything important. She’ll get over it, she loves the lifestyle I give her. She’ll learn to never insult Cronus. SANDY Who? THE DION Back to business. I need a military man for the NSA. EXT. RURAL MINSK ROAD A black sedan pulls off the road and parks behind Russo’s car. Two KGB men get out and walk down the road and peer over. POV, two men: Russo and Sokoloff climbing up the cliff face and searching. EXT. CLIFF FACE Russo stops, kneels down and brushes some rocks aside. Close-up on the ground reveals the recording device. Russo picks it up and examines it. Sokoloff steps over and looks at what Russo found. SOKOLOFF Its the recording device, it must have left the van as it rolled down. Russo looks closer at the device. Close-up on the device shows it has been damaged. Russo takes his eyes off the device and looks up the cliff facing . Russo’s POV, the two men above now have pistols out and are pointing them at Russo and Sokoloff. KGB MAN 1 Hold still... Russo bolts for the trees with Sokoloff right behind him. The two men fire their weapons. Russo is hit and tumbles into the line of trees on the side of the cliff facing. Sokoloff dives into the trees. KGB Man 1 begins to climb down the cliff facing, slips and falls to the bottom, landing on a large rock breaking his back. KGB Man 2 turns and runs back toward Russo’s car. EXT. RURAL MINSK ROAD KGB Man 2 finds the path down the side of the mountain that Russo and Sokoloff used and starts down. EXT. CLIFF FACE Camera pushes into the trees. In the trees, Sokoloff is helping Russo to his feet. Russo cries out and grabs his waist area. Sokoloff examines Russo, he lifts his shirt. Close-up Russo’s waist area is bloodied. Sokoloff closely looks at the wound. SOKOLOFF It passed right through. Doesn’t look like it hit anything but flesh and came out the back side. Here... Sokoloff removes a light jacket he is wearing and ties around Russo’s mid-section. RUSSO I can hear them coming. SOKOLOFF Sounds like only one man. I heard a scream and crashing noise from the cliff.   RUSSO Which way. Sokoloff takes Russo by the arm and moves downhill. Montage: A chase down the mountain side. EXT. MOUNTAIN MEADOW Russo and Sokoloff exit the trees. They stop to catch their breath. SOKOLOFF I know this place. On the other side of the meadow there is a small dirt road that hunters use to a camp. They move out, Russo struggling to keep up. EXT. SMALL HUNTING CABIN Russo and Sokoloff arrive. Sokoloff checks Russo’s wound. SOKOLOFF The bleeding has stopped. Rest for a minute, then continue down this road, it meets the highway in about a mile. RUSSO What are you... SOKOLOFF Just go, go now. When you get to the highway, stay hidden until you see a green van, show yourself, it will be a friend. Sokoloff gives Russo a friendly shove to start him. Russo slowly jogs up the road. Sokoloff quickly moves to the door of the cabin and kicks it in. Sokoloff enters. Several beats and KGB Man 2 lumbers up, stops. Breathing heavy. He sees the broken door and quickly moves to the wall and stands to the side of the door. INT. CABIN Sokoloff searches and finds a gas lantern. He shakes the lantern and hears liquid inside. EXT. CABIN KGB Man with his back pressed against the cabin wall. KGB MAN 2 Give up, I have more men coming. Why die for the American. He listens. SOKOLOFF (O.C.) I have a gun. KGB MAN 2 You would have used it. All I want is the device. Throw it out and I will leave. A couple of beats, an object sails out through the door and lands several feet away. KGB Man, smiling and with his eyes on the door, slowly backs up toward the object laying in the grass. He turns his head to look behind him, stops and quickly turns bends over and picks up the object. Close-up on the object reveals it is a cell phone. He angrily throws the cell phone back through the cabin door and charges the cabin. As he enters the cabin, be rapidly fires his weapon. KGB MAN 2 (Screaming) Now you both die. He disappears into the cabin and continues to fire his weapon. Sokoloff appears from behind the cabin holding the gas lantern. He snaps a cigarette lighter and lights a rag wick stuffed into the fuel opening on the gas lantern. He throws the jury rigged Molotov cocktail into the cabin. The cabin explodes in flames. SOKOLOFF No, now you die. INT. RESTAURANT 1 Langford and Jefferson eating. JEFFERSON You know this, how? LANGFORD There are good people in government... JEFFERSON Who? LANGFORD For now, let’s just say and agency with three letters in its name. JEFFERSON It’s Daniels, isn’t it. He’s a good man, in fact he is helping me with a problem I’m having with The Dion. But, Minsk can be a big game changer for those who are not enamored with him. So... Carl approaches their table. JEFFERSON Ah Carl, join us. Senator Langford would like to hear about Dionysius the Elder. Carl grabs a chair from a nearby table and sits. EXT. WASHINGTON MONUMENT - DAY Platform set up with a podium for the President of the United States speech. A large crowed waits for The Dion to arrive. EXT. WASHINGTON DC 17th. STREET ENTRANCE TO THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT The President’s motorcade stops at the sidewalk leading to the monument. Six Secret Service agents exit one SUV and join up with several other agents that are already stationed there. Six private security guards exit another SUV. A third SUV drives up and onto the sidewalk leading to the monument. The Secret Service agents jog along one side of the SUV and six of The Dion’s private security detail, jog along the other side of the SUV as it moves toward the monument and the speakers platform. EXT. WASHINGTON MONUMENT The presidents SUV stops at the rear of the speakers platform. The Dion exits and then is surrounded by his security people as he climbs the steps to the speaker platform. The crowed begins to clap and cheer. The people clapping and cheering are Thompson and his crew we saw at the demonstrations. The Dion reaches the podium and raises a fist, but then quickly opens his hand and makes the victory sign. He adjusts a microphone on the podium and begins to speak. INTERCUT WITH CROWD CHEERING. THE DION I stand here today humbled by the history of George Washing and his battles to create a new country. But I also stand here with a strong resolve to follow his lead. Our country has been in turmoil, we have suffered at the hands of our enemies, foreign and domestic. It is time again to create a new country. A new country free of the fear and unknown that has paralyzed this great nation. It is time for a leader, a fearless leader, to change all of that. That is why you have chosen me to lead you. And I intend to lead with strength. I will let no man, no group, no weak political party stop me. The Dion raises both arms in triumph. The crowed cheers. The Dion pumps his fists. A shot rings out and a security man next to The Dion falls backward. The other security people surround the Dion and rush him off the podium. The crowd scatters. People running for their lives. The Dion shoved into his SUV. The SUV moving through the crowd of people slowly. Secret service agents video taping the crowds running from the monument area. INT. OUTER OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Aaron is talking to the secretary as Jefferson exits his office. JEFFERSON (To Aaron) Come with me. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Thompson, Killjoy. THE DION That went well... KILLJOY One of your private guy’s died. THOMPSON What, how. He was wearing a vest. KILLJOY The round went high, hit him in the neck. THE DION Too bad, I thought you said your guy could hit a dime at five hundred yards. THOMPSON He’s that good, I don’t know how it happened, but I’ll find out. THE DION Don’t bother, it works better for me. We’ll push the idea that it could have been the president. Thank God it was not. Nice huh... KILLJOY He had a wife and a couple of kids. THE DION I’ll donate funds for his kids college education. Nice huh. Benson and Sandy rush in. SANDY Oh my god, are you alright? The Dion laughs. THE DION I’m invincible. You should know that by now. BENSON The agent that was hit died. THOMPSON That we didn't expect. Sandy glances at Benson. Benson looks away. The Dion puts his arm around Sandy and walks her to the other side of the room. THE DION None of us wanted that to happen. SANDY You planned it... THE DION It was for the cause... Sandy pulls away. THE DION The cause you support... Sandy puts both of her hands to her face and begins to sob. THE DION (To Benson) Take her home. Benson takes Sandy’s arm and walks her out. The Dion walks to the bar and pours himself a drink. THE DION Get a drink. Thompson and Killjoy pour themselves drinks. THE DION To the cause. They lift their glasses and then drink. INT. UPSCALE MEXICAN RESTAURANT - MIAMI - EARLY MORNING The restaurant is being prepared to open. Kitchen staff. Dinning room staff. Bar people. In a quite booth at the back of the restaurant two men talk. Mark Ramon DAVILLA and Daniels. DANIELS This is a very beautiful restaurant. DAVILLA Yes it is, I have four more, two here in Florida and two in Los Angeles. And now that I will not be in the White House, we’re opening a third in Dallas. DANIELS You know The Dion calls them a string of taco wagons. DAVILLA And now I can keep my taco wagons. How can I help you. DANIELS I understand you have contacts in the Cuban government... A STAFF PERSON approaches their table. STAFF PERSON We’re ready to open, shall we wait? DAVILLA No, no... The staff person turns and leaves. INT. PRIVATE HOME - LIBRARY Thompson and Killjoy. Thompson reading from a sheet of paper. THOMPSON Chicago, Detroit, San Francisco, New York, Jacksonville Florida, Dallas/Fort Worth, Milwaukee and DC. KILLJOY That will set off others all over the country. THOMPSON That’s the plan. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Sandy and Benson. THE DION We’ll leave for my ranch in Montana first thing in the morning. No announcements. BENSON Only your private security... THE DION The Feds, will stay here and pretend they are protecting the president. If we can go and come back without anyone knowing... SANDY I can make a statement that you were here directing the troops. THE DION I’ve ditched them before and I will do it tomorrow. EXT. MILITIA CAMP FLORIDA EVERGLADES Ulsterman and his men. ULSTERMAN Tomorrow is the day. Our orders are for Miami Fort Lauderdale corridor. The more violence we can create... I’ll be very proud of you. He points to a stack of crates. ULSTERMAN You’ll find flash grenades, concussion and shrapnel. But don’t use the shrapnel until you are ordered. Everyone have their family off in the boonies some where. The men confirm in various ways. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Jefferson and Aaron. AARON It’s whispers, but serious. JEFFERSON Who’s behind it? AARON Don’t know for sure, but we think it started from a militia group in Florida. JEFFERSON Demonstrations, marching with weapons. They can do that, it’s not against the law. AARON Not anymore... JEFFERSON I’ll talk to Daniels and see what he knows. Talk to the people you know in Langford’s office. Aaron turns and leaves. Jefferson opens his cell phone and taps a speed dial number and puts the phone to his ear. JEFFERSON Daniels... INTERCUT BETWEEN JEFFERSON AND DANIELS. INT. FBI OFFICES WASHINGTON DC - ASSOCIATE DEPUTY DIRECTORS OFFICE Daniels on the phone. DANIELS Yes, but I don’t think it going to amount to much. Local authorities can handle it. I do have something you may like. JEFFERSON Really, when will you hear back? DANIELS In a couple of days. His contacts are high up in government. JEFFERSON Are you keeping Langford up to date? DANIELS He’s convinced... JEFFERSON So am I now... DANIELS It’s a pretty scary vision. INT. OFFICE OF SENATOR JUSTIN LANGFORD Langford and Owen. LANGFORD It would be a treasonous offense. OWEN You could call for hearings. LANGFORD When I have a few more ducks in a row. INT. OFFICE OF NATIONAL GUARD GENERAL General FLINT and two other officers. FLINT You must have your troops in pace by noon. As soon as the announcement is made, you take control. INT. THE DION’S RANCH - PLACID LAKE MONTANA - NIGHT Seated at the dinning room table: The Dion, Annie, Sandy and Benson. THE DION Enjoy the caviar, a special reserve of Ossetra. This bowl cost three thousand, and there will be plenty more where this comes from. ANNIE I love Russian caviar... SANDY A little to strong for me. THE DION Keep eating, you will develope a taste for it. I did. BENSON When will go back? THE DION When I call for a State of Emergency. SANDY You are going to declare Marshall Law? THE DION State of Emergency. And only in Washington DC, and a few other dangerous places. BENSON Chicago, Los Angeles, New York City... THE DION And more if needed. Close-up Sandy, shock and fear. ANNIE Oh my god, what is happening? THE DION Not until tomorrow, oh, and I’m sending you to Cuba to be with your mother. You can visit your cousin in prison. The Dion smiles. SUPER TITLE MARCH 15TH. 2025 INT. TV STUDIO At the anchor chair, Todd is describing events. Background screen montage of his descriptions. TODD It started at daybreak in Florida. Hundreds of armed militia groups marched in Miami. Their spokesperson gave their reasons for the march. Here is the interview. EXT. MIAMI STREET CORNER Surrounded by men in Camo gear with  military style weapons, Ulsterman speaks with REPORTER 1 ULSTERMAN Yes, this is a threat to all who oppose our leader. Our combat ready patriots will patrol the streets of America. When we find anyone, anyone that might pose a threat to The Dion, they will be arrested and jailed. REPORTER 1 You have no authority to arrest people... ULSTERMAN Citizen arrest for traitors of our leader. And we will use deadly force if necessary... Close-up on the Reporter 1 face, dumbfounded. TODD Our producer contacted the Miami police department regarding this action. Their spokes person would not comment. Anti The Dion demonstrations are now just starting. EXT. 16th. And H STREET - WASHINGTON DC Armed militia march along H. A small group surrounds REPORTER 2 Reporter 2 facing the camera. Camera POV REPORTER 2 The men here claim that the president’s private security force has given them permission to be here with their weapons. We have not been able to speak to anyone with the private security force to confirm that. But seeing no show of force here from the White House... INT. TV STUDIO TODD This is an unprecedented situation, and more of the same is happening in Chicago, Los Angeles, Dallas and right here in New York City... Montage of the violence. Todd cups his hand over one ear and listens. TODD Gunfire has erupted in Miami between the militia forces and anti-The Dion groups. EXT. MIAMI - SOUTH MIAMI BRIDGE OVER MIAMI RIVER A group of armed militia men led by Ulster is trapped in the middle of the bridge, taking fire from armed men from both sides of the bridge. In the group we see Ulsterman. They are using abandoned cars and trucks as cover. Eight non- militia shooters are firing their weapons from behind a UPS truck. Ski hats and sun glasses disguise their faces. One man is hit in the shoulder and falls to the ground. Another man bends down and pulls off his ski hat to reveal it is Thompson. THOMPSON (In pain)Use the grenade and let’s get out of here now. The man removes a grenade from his jacket pocket, pulls the pin. He stands a tosses the grenade toward the middle of the bridge. The grenade explodes among the militia men. INT. THE DION’S RANCH - PLACID LAKE MONTANA The Dion, Benson, Sandy and Unidentified man. All are watching the news reports of the rioting. THE DION OK General, its time for the National Guard to restore peace. The man opens his cell phone and punches in some numbers. INT. FBI OFFICES WASHINGTON DC - DANIELS OFFICE Daniels is on the phone. DANIELS I want agents in everyone of those locations to observe the guard units tactics. INT. OFFICE OF NATIONAL GUARD GENERAL FLINT GENERAL FLINT I want some of our people in every unit deployed. You have your orders. For the cause. He holds up a clenched fist. The others hold up clenched fists. INT. OFFICE OF HOMELAND SECURITY Bo Nelson and his Chief of staff Myron WICKLIFFE. WICKLIFFE I don’t understand, you want our people out there protecting demonstrators? BO NELSON I don’t want citizens indiscriminately attacked. WICKLIFFE But that’s the National Guard’s duty. BO NELSON To keep the peace, not attack civilians. WICKLIFFE Anarchist. BO NELSON If they have weapons and are using them, yes. But if its peaceful demonstrations... WICKLIFFE Yes sir, but the violence is getting out of hand. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion enters with Benson. Benson turns on the television. Close-up television screen showing violent riots. THE DION Call an emergency press conference. Benson leaves the room. INT. WHITE HOUSE - PRESS BRIEFING ROOM Media is jammed into the room. The Dion arrives and steps to the podium. The media begins shouting questions. The Dion holds up his hands. The media quiets down. THE DION Ladies and gentlemen, these are unprecedented times. What I’m about to tell you pains me more than anything. Our country is facing acts of violence and civil disobedience unlike never seen before. American patriots are dying in the streets, being murdered by gangs of unpatriotic, no, terrorist, terrorist from abroad and many who have gained citizenship through our immigration system riddled with holes. Today, March fifteenth two thousand and twenty five, I’m declaring a State of Emergency in various cities across our great land. You will be handed lists of what cities and areas. A VOICE FROM THE CROWD 1 VOICE FROM THE CROWD 1 Is Washington DC one of the cities? THE DION Of course, we must protect the seat of government. That’s all, and thank you. The Dion steps away from the podium. A Voice From The Crowed 2 VOICE FROM THE CROWD 2 You’re declaring Marshall Law? THE DION (Angrily) No, a State of Emergency. VOICE FROM THE CROWD 2 (Mumbling) Same thing. The crowd of media rushing out of the room. INT. FBI OFFICES - DANIELS OFFICE Daniels and Annie. DANIELS We will protect you. Daniels cell phone rings. He picks it up and listens. DANIELS Thank god... INT. HOTEL ROOM Daniels, Jefferson, Langford, Davilla and Russo. DANIELS With Zeus back, you’ll have enough to start impeachment proceedings. JEFFERSON Zeus? DANIELS I’m sorry, Zeus is the code name the agent that was sent to Minsk. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion and Benson. THE DION Where the hell is she? Did you send someone to her apartment? BENSON No idea. They even went inside. Her bed was not slept in. THE DION She’s off somewhere sulking, she’ll return when she remembers where her future lies. BENSON Can we trust her? THE DION Of course. Use the secure phone and get me Vadim. INT. KGB OFFICE - MOSCOW - NIGHT Vadim is on the phone. Viktor listens. VADIM Yes, you are a genius. So all is well. Vadim continues to listen for several beats and then hangs up. VADIM He’s declared Marshall Law, he foolishly calls it a State of Emergency. VIKTOR The American army? The coup? VADIM There are special units that he controls, they are being activated as we speak. VIKTOR Yes, and we will have successfully assassinated democracy in the United States. The two men hug and then shake hands. INT. TV STUDIO TODD An unprecedented, I seem to be using that word everyday. An unprecedented move by the Congress in the middle of the night, a closed door hearing, has voted to start impeachment hearings against the president of the United States, Dion Dodge. Senator Jefferson explains why. INT. HALLS OF CONGRESS Senator Jefferson on camera. JEFFERSON Members from both sides of the aisle agreed that there was enough evidence to start the proceedings. The president will have the opportunity to refute the charges through his attorney. But he will have to answer questions during the proceedings. INT. IMPEACHMENT HEARINGS CHAMBER. The Dion and his LEGAL TEAM converse. LEGAL TEAM 1 Of course we will use the fifth on dangerous issues, but we believe most of what they have is hearsay. THE DION Can’t be anything but hearsay, I’ve been very careful who I take into my confidence. The Senators take their seats. Senator Jefferson bangs the gavel. JEFFERSON Before we begin, I wish to read excerpts from our founding fathers regarding Impeachment of a sitting president. The Framers vested the Senate with the sole Power to try Impeachments. Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor, trust or profit under the United States. But the Party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, a trial, judgment and punishment, according to Law. My CO/chair, Senator Langford will now begin. LANGFORD Mister president, you are aware that you are under oath during these proceedings? THE DION Of course. LANGFORD Please answer yes or no. THE DION Yes. LANGFORD Are you acquainted with VIKTOR Guskov and VADIM Trukhin? THE DION No. LANGFORD Did you meet with, in Cuba, these men. THE DION No. LANGFORD Have you ever met these men... Legal Team 1 places his hand over The Dion’s hand and whispers in his ear. The Dion shakes it off the hand. THE DION No. Senator Jefferson and Senator Langford exchange glances. The Dion smiles. INT. TV STUDIO TODD Today’s impeachment hearings moved very quickly as the president’s answers were short and quickly answered with a No. After, the president made a statement that all of the evidence was hearsay and a witch hunt. This may be over soon, and in the presidents favor. INT. OUTER OFFICE OF SENATOR MARSHAL JEFFERSON Jefferson and Langford. LANGFORD No sense having Annie testify. They'll just claim hearsay and lovers quarrel. And we expose her to the danger of being killed by one of his people. He is capable of that. JEFFERSON How did we get to this point? LANGFORD Historian’s will have to make that judgement. Tomorrow won’t be so easy for him. JEFFERSON It will still be he said, he said, but they won’t be able to use the lovers quarrel spin. The telephone rings. Jefferson answers and listens. JEFFERSON You can’t do that... He hangs up. JEFFERSON That was King, the CIA will not let Bo Nelson testify. National security excuse. He’s been deep undercover for years. They don’t want to expose him. LANGFORD Sure, that’s The Dion’s appointment. There is nobody in government we can count on... Daniels, we can count on him. INT. IMPEACHMENT HEARINGS CHAMBER Jefferson and Langford stand and talk. JEFFERSON They can’t find him. He never returned home last night. His wife is hysterically. Said he called around six thirty and said he had to go out of town. She said he sounded frightened. LANGFORD How could they have found out about Daniels testifying. JEFFERSON He was investigating the Dion’s threats against me. LANGFORD What? JEFFERSON I wouldn’t join his cause, as he called it. He threatened my family. LANGFORD We can’t take anymore chances, we have to call for the closed door private session. Will your people go along. JEFFERSON I hope so, its our only chance. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Benson, Legal Team 1. LEGAL TEAM 1 Daniels is missing, did you have anything to do with that? THE DION What? You’re my defense counsel, not the prosecution. No, of course not. LEGAL TEAM 1 What was he investigating you for? THE DION More hearsay bullshit that he couldn't prove. (To Benson) Where is Sandy? BENSON We still don’t know. LEGAL TEAM 1 Can she be a problem, because if they have her hidden... THE DION Forget her... What about tomorrow? LEGAL TEAM 1 Depends. FBI OFFICES WASHINGTON DC - DIRECTOR KING King, Jefferson and Langford. KING I don’t believe you, it has just been a lot of hearsay... JEFFERSON Where’s Daniels? KING In his office, I presume... LANGFORD He has not been seen, since he called his wife last night and said he had to leave town for awhile... King picks up his phone and punches a button. KING Have Daniels come to my office. King hangs up. KING Look, I know he is a little bit of a loose canon, but he will make the country better. JEFFERSON Daniels believes he is a traitor and is working with the KGB in a plot to overthrow our government. KING Are you mad, that’s... King’s phone rings. He answers and listens. KING Send people to find him. Now... LANGFORD We’re afraid he’s dead or hiding... KING Dead, are you... alright talk to me. JEFFERSON For starters, we have proof he faked the assassination attempt. LANGFORD And his assistant will testify to that. JEFFERSON And a Secret Service agent died during that... fraud. KING Prove that and I will guarantee you he will be charged with murder. JEFFERSON It will be his word against his assistant, but we have more evidence, solid, but it would require a closed door hearing with only members of the NSA committee. LANGFORD Both of us are members of that committee, but we would like to avoid that if we can. If you can find Daniels... INT. IMPEACHMENT HEARINGS CHAMBER The panel is seated. The room is packed with spectators. Jefferson bangs his gavel. Legal Team 1 stands. LEGAL TEAM 1 Senator’s, since there has been no evidence presented other than hearsay, we ask that this committee stand down, and let the president focus his attention on the myriad of emergencies the country is facing. LANGFORD I’m afraid we can’t do that sir... A Senator HOKES, one of The Dion’s supporters interrupts Langford. HOKES I agree, these accusations against president Dodge is nothing but a witch hunt. Unless there is a witness to support these hearsay accusations, I vote we close this hearing. JEFFERSON Director King. King moves to a table with a microphone. KING I strongly advise that the select NSA committee convene a closed door hearing regarding these accusations. The Dion jumps to his feet. THE DION I’m the president of the United States, and I am declaring this over. I have important things to attend to. With that The Dion leaves the room. Camera pans everyone in the room dumbstruck and silent. Then pandemonium as everyone rushes out. INT. WHITE HOUSE - OVAL OFFICE The Dion, Benson and Legal Team 1 LEGAL TEAM 1 You can’t do this, you will have to return tomorrow. THE DION (Agitated and shouting) Where the hell is Annie? Where the hell is Sandy. They love me, why are they not here when I need them. BENSON Sandy is still missing, and we have word that Annie is in FBI protection. LEGAL TEAM 1 Mister president, I must have any information that those women have that can be used against you. THE DION (Screaming) Get out, both of you, get the hell out of my office. They leave. The Dion moves to the bar and pours a drink. INT. PRIVATE CHAMBERS - NSA OFFICE Jefferson, Langford, King, Daniels, Annie, Sandy and Legal Team 1. Director of NSA Herbert WELKINS sits at his desk. Two NSA assistants stand on either side of the his desk. WELKINS So far you have introduced nothing that would be of national security concern. Legal Team 1 glances one by one the faces of Daniels, Sandy and Annie. LEGAL TEAM 1 And they will not be able to do that. JEFFERSON (To Daniels) Has he arrived yet? Daniels shakes his head, no. LANGFORD (Exasperated) We need a little more time. LEGAL TEAM 1 You have had over a week. This nonsense should be stopped now. WELKINS I agree, the trial should proceed in the normal fashion. JEFFERSON You are letting him get away with treason... Welkins rises and walks to the door. He opens the door and with a sweep of his hand, invites them to leave. Legal Team 1 heads for the door. As he steps out he bumps directly into the chest of Russo. Russo holds up the recording device. DANIELS (To Legal Team 1) Say hello to agent Russo, code name Zeus... INT. HOME OF THE RUSSO FAMILY - PHILADELPHIA Russo, his mother Sarah and his father Michael are sitting at the dinning table. SARAH I put everything back in the oven to stay warm. MICHAEL What’s holding her up? SARAH She had to pick up her roommate first. MICHAEL The mysterious roommate. RUSSO Not mysterious, she was just not ready for you guys to meet. MICHAEL While we wait, tell us how you brought this terrible man down? RUSSO You mean the man you voted for. MICHAEL (Reluctantly) I made a mistake RUSSO A big one. I can’t tell you much because most of it is classified. You heard the news reports. MICHAEL Yes, he’s to be removed from office... RUSSO He’s already out of the White House. Next week he will be indicted, along with several of his friends on numerous charges, including murder. The sound of the front door opening. LELA (O.C.) We’re here. MICHAEL Here goes... Lela enters the dinning room with her roommate. He is six foot six and in perfect physical condition. LELA Hi guys, this is my roommate DOUG Winooski.   Everyone greets Doug. SARAH Sit. Sit, I’ll get dinner. LELA I’ll help. The two women leave the room. RUSSO How long have you been roommates? DOUG Two years now. MICHAEL When Sarah and I were dating we didn’t live in the same house. Sarah and Lela enter carrying supper. LELA We have been engaged for a year now. SARAH Wonderful... LELA And we will be getting married in the spring. Sarah joyfully hugs her daughter. RUSSO Congratulations Sis. MICHAEL And why did you wait so long to tell us? LELA I was afraid you would be angry... SARAH He’s not Jewish. DOUG I’m Jewish, my grandparents came from Poland. MICHAEL Sounds all good to me, so what would I be angry about? LELA Doug is in football. DOUG I’m not a starter yet, but I think I’ll start next year. MICHAEL What could be better, my daughter getting married, to a Jew, who is a professional football player. Why would I be angry. Close-up on Michael’s face shows an Oh no look. MICHAEL Don’t tell me... LELA Yes, the Giants. INT. TV STUDIO TODD Impeached president Dodge has not been seen since last Tuesday when he was removed from office. Meanwhile, the Attorney General’s office is preparing indictments that can lead to Dodge going to prison for decades. It could also result in the death penalty. INT. OFFICE DIONYSIUS DODGE The Dion and Benson. The Dion is on the phone. THE DION What do you mean, Vadim does not know me. We are brothers in arms. Put him on the phone, he knows me, he loves me... The Dion slams the phone down. Then picks it up and hurls it across the room. Benson ducks as the phone travels over his head. The Dion paces around the office talking to himself. He stops and turns to Benson. THE DION Take me to my office. BENSON But, you’re in your office. THE DION This is not my office, my office, the Oval Room. BENSON Mister Dodge, this is your office... THE DION What are you talking about, and you will address me by my title, Mister President. Now take me to my office at the White House. BENSON But they won’t let us in... The Dion reaches into the desk drawer and remove a pistol which he points at Benson’s head. EXT. WHITE HOUSE GATE - NIGHT Benson drives up. The Dion is in the back seat holding the gun to Benson’s head. At the gate, the guards refuse to let him enter. The Dion screams from the back seat. THE DION Open the gate or I’ll have you thrown in jail for refusing an order from the president of the United States. The guards draw their weapons. Benson is backing the car away. The Dion jumps out of the car, opens the drivers side and pulls Benson out and dumps him on the street. INT. THE CAR The Dion climbs into the car, turns it around aiming for the front gate. The Dion floors the gas peddle. The car rockets toward the gate. Inside the car, The Dion is screaming. THE DION I'm the president, I am the president. CORONUSSSS... The guard's open fire. The windshield shatters from the gun fire. The car rams into a concrete barrier and flips over and lands behind the barrier. Benson is up and running to the car. He disappears behind the barrier. Several beats and the car explodes into a fiery ball.   INT. OFFICE OF THE KGB- MOSCOW Vadim and Victor. VADIM He became unhinged at the end. VIKTOR At the end, he was born a madman. It was unbelievable that we succeeded in getting him elected. VADIM The country was ready for a man like that. And he uncovered the evil in many. The vice president will take over, but he's a weakling, so we start over with a new and different model that will appeal to the same kind of people.   VIKTOR Four... eight years, and then. FADE OUT. EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF MARRAKESH MOROCCO - SUNSET A white SUV turns off a main road onto a newly paved winding driveway. Several beats later it approaches an giant wall of steel slats twenty feet high. The pavement continues on to a large steel gate that slowly opens to allow the SUV to pass through. INT. SUV Two men sit in the back seat, they are dressed as Moroccan dignitaries in fashionable robes and headdress. The SUV passes rows of date trees lining both sides of the driveway. The vehicle enters an elaborate circular driveway and stops at the entrance to a magnificent mansion in the style of a Virginia plantation home. Armed guards stand at the entrance. The two men exit the vehicle and walk toward the door which opens as they arrive. They enter. INT. MANSION A man dressed in a dark business suit escorts them down an hall and into a large solarium style room. Directly ahead is tinted glass wall that extends from the floor to the ceiling. Through the shaded glass lies an expanse of green lawns, palm and date trees. In the center is an enormous pool with cabanas. At the end of the pool area is a manicured golf course. On one side of the room a door opens and through it enters a man in all white golf attire carrying a club. It’s the Dion. THE DION Welcome gentlemen to the new White House of the exiled Monarch. I will return to my former domain in due time. The two men stunned with their wide open in shock, slowly back out of the room. The Dion in uncontrollable insane laughter screaming I am the King. 

[mylifeatwar]

Book 3, Chapter 3, Page 23

Archived Text Follows:

Hello Everyone,

We are back! A belated ‘Happy New Year’ from Matt and I, to you, the fans that make this all possible. Now we can finally reveal why this page was taking so damn long. It’s the single most ambitious page we’ve ever done.

There are times where, for the point of advancing the story, we’ve called it quits early on a page, but this was one of those times where it would not do. There was also the holidays, power outages, tablet driver issues, illnesses and more. Still, we would not relent!

This page is about showing Dhuvalia. About showing Betsy-Ray, and the readers, just how big of an enemy the Free Market is facing. It’s also packed with details, like the architecture, the new equipment for Dhuvalian Underfootmen, or the priestess’ (whose role will make more sense later).

Yeah, this is my new favorite page in the series. I’m so fucking happy with it. We hope you are too.

Thanks for reading,

– Luther

Comment Text Follows:

Kasper - The lone fellow with the stick full of assorted swords, is he holding a trophy rack or is there some other symbolism at play?

folti - That post is the banner carrier’s in real life, who carries the unit’s banner/color/standard, or similar identification device. The best known non flag type banners would be the eagle statues (Aquila) used by the Roman legions and other units, and Napoleon’s units, who coped them. The other big one is the Tug or Tugh banner, still used today by Mongolian military, but have been used a lot of other nomadic people and the Ottomans.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tug_Banner

B-Sabre - It looks like at least a symbolic representation of the enemies Dhuvalia has fought rather than a unit guidon. Sort of like the US Army banner when displayed with 190 campaign ribbons. https://www.army.mil/e2/-images/2008/06/13/17177/size0-army.mil-2008-06-16-093545.jpg

B-Sabre - Observations: The underfootmen are now wearing real helmets (they look a lot like the Adrian helmet the French wore in WW1&2) rather than the shako’s they have been wearing so far. Some of them also have rifles, with two rifles to one pike. From the way the blocks are arranged, each of those APC’s holds 24 underfootmen, eight of whom have those “pikes” and sixteen with rifles. So each full-width block is a Dhuvalian underfoot company with their APCs. I see 5-6 rows of APC’s in the photo, which would be about 596 men, or roughly a battalion of infantry. There’s nobody that stands out as either company or platoon officers (captain and lieutenants) or NCO’s. Somewhere in there is a battalion commander and his staff. There is no sign of support weapons like mortars or light machine guns, unless the LIMBS count as the “weapons company” of the battalion.

Keith - Yeah, I don’t see not having actual organic artillery (mortars) and relying on the limps for that job as a smart tactical move. But that’s just an old gun bunny / Cav troopers opining.

B-Sabre - Yeah – doctrine (or what passes for it in this world) has the LIMBS as the primary weapon system, and the underfootmen support the LIMBS. So having the LIMBS as support (be subordinate to) an infantry unit doesn’t make sense in this world-view. The APC’s may be the primary heavy weapons unit for the underfootmen. So think of a US armored infantry battalion, with less organic anti-tank (anti-LIMB) or indirect fire capability – just the Bradleys. http://slideplayer.com/slide/9318209/28/images/2/Infantry+Battalion+WPNS..jpg

folti - Neither side really have the doctrine for organic support weapons, or artillery. The closest we have is Big Al’s LIMB which have some of it’s weapons replaced with long range rockets, and the anti tank missiles the infantry got very hastily before the big mission. Nothing similar have been seen from the Dhuvalian side, where their LIMBs preferred tactics is to get close using cloaking, and then use their LIMBs agility to wreak havoc, while the infantry is used mainly for mopping up after the LIMBs and for garrison duty. Plus they are more than likely fighting against institutional inertia too.

Deoxy - There are some things we would consider obvious that they don’t have, but the big issue to me is this bit: “their LIMBs preferred tactics is to get close using cloaking” We don’t have cloaking in the real world, so what effect that would have on military tactics and strategies is all theory. Combine that with “institutional inertia”, and you’re going to have all kinds of odds results.If everything made sense to us, it would almost HAVE to be wrong. (That said, non-LIMB artillery does seem like a major no-brainer – a faction that fielded highly accurate artillery as support for their front line could mop the floor with the entire Dhuvalian army, at least in the first engagement.)

B-Sabre - (This if for Deoxy) For me, the big glaring hole is tactical airpower. With the exception of one group (the guys with the tailed mechs) nobody seems to use aircraft tactically. The Free Marketeers use armed transports, but we’ve seen no Dhuvalian aircraft at all. Some type of VTOL gunship would seem to be the natural predator for LIMBS…

foltiJ - Deoxy: we can only go with what we observed currently and you can make some deductions about the strength and weaknesses of tech, even if they are fictional. Both factions come with quite sizeable blinds regarding equipment, tactics, and everything else about warfare, for different reasons. The biggest one, is that neither of them have been involved in a major war for generations, nor had an aptitude to keep up with military developments in the outside world. The Free Marketers are a budget security force, that only fought desert nomads, who were even worse equipped than them. They are not a force that’d waste money on equipment and training they don’t need in peacetime. For the Dhuvalians, conflict have been ritualized to a major degree, with the most prestigious combat arm, the LIMBs are reserved to the nobility and everything else is relegated to supporting them. This would also lead to them eschewing weapons, that are considered cowardly or ungentlemanly. Like artillery, anti-LIMB weapons, and armed aircraft. B-Sabre: see the above. Both sides are re-learning major warfare, and have to unlearn a lot of bad doctrine. We’ll probably see further equipment and tactics development in the future.

Gonnhirrin - I would think a walking wall barrage would be hard on even cloaked LIMBs

SteelRaven - This song seems appropriate: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjBYYDJnp6Y Great page, you have out done yourselves!

nweismuller - Very glad to see the new page, and very impressed! Sorry to hear about your tough road to releasing it, but I’m definitely happy with the results.

Plubbo - “THAT’S the whole Dhuvalian army?!” “No, that’s the 102nd Infantry.”

Radical Dreamer - Welcome back! Its great to see the first page of the new year. I notice there are 7 yellow stars on the flag and 1 black. There are also 7 weapons on the standard. I wonder if each represents a group that eventually came together to become Dhuvalia with the black star a sign that something happened to the last? There are such different styles of weapons but all would be considered archaic in a modern age. An axe, a club, heavy chopping swords, thinner stabbing swords, each seems to emphasize very different types of fighting or perhaps different cultures. There is a lot of untold story in this picture that I’m hoping we will eventually hear.

B-Sabre - I believe from an earlier discussion that the black star represents a district of Dhuvalia that was lost (depopulated, destroyed, or annexed) in the Impossible Wars. Which might explain their touchiness in the current situation. I believe the weapons on the standard represent foes that Dhuvalia has defeated over the years. The wooden/obsidian sword probably represents the Mexicoatl-surrogates. The axe seems to be the Dhuvalian “cultural weapon” so the axe on the standard could be a reference to a civil war?

Iarei - War is a Racket