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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Oct 27, 2009 20:52:00 GMT -5
Gauron stood before a screen with a look of disinterest on his face. He hadn't budged from the spot in nearly ten minutes, but had long ago stopped reading the names that were perpetually scrolling from the bottom of the giant monitor. Each person on the list was dead. Every last one of them had been slaughtered by the press of a single button. 35 million human beings sacrificed to science. 35 million souls devoured by a weapon known as F.L.E.I.J.A.
How he wished that he could have met its creator. Whoever they were, they had done fine work by creating such a devastating device. But there was no point wishing for that which could never happen. Finally, he tore his unfocused gaze away from the screen and looked around the room. Throngs of people milled about - Britannians and Elevens alike - and paid their respects to the dead.
Displays were scattered throughout the room, each with an interactive computer terminal that would help users understand the what had led up to the use of the weapon. Of course, the accounts were biased in favor of the current rulers of the nation once known as Japan. Mock-ups of the weapon and the Knightmare that had fired it - the Z-01 Lancelot - stood in display cases. Near the Knightmare's case was a profile on its Devicer. It was little more than thinly-veiled propaganda, talking about how Kururugi had been an inspiration to Britannia-supporting Elevens throughout the war and had brought substantial popularity to the Honorary Britannian program.
Gauron put his hands in his pockets, and walked away from where he had been standing. As he was making his way to the garden just outside, a young Eleven boy ran into him. He felt a stab of annoyance and looked down at the youngster.
"Geez, I'm sorry, mister," the boy said, craning his neck to look Gauron in the face. When their eyes met, the child seemed to shrink in on himself a little bit.
Gauron responded with a glare. The boy carefully took a step back, then another, and finally turned and walked briskly away. As he retreated, he glanced over his shoulder as if making sure that Gauron was not following him. With a dramatic straightening of his suit, the mercenary continued on his path outside.
The sun shone down on the Settlement, illuminating the predominantly white city. The brightness was subdued somewhat by an awning that extended over the path that led through the garden. At the far end of the path, an immense marble obelisk stood imposingly. The name of every F.L.E.I.J.A. victim was carved into its surface. Gauron smiled up at the structure. "It's almost time for the wars to begin again," he said to himself, excited at the prospect.
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Post by Cadian Armana Virria on Oct 27, 2009 21:49:03 GMT -5
It was not Cadian’s usual behavior to seek solace outside the orphanage, but he could not expose the innocent children to the shadows that haunted him after his talk with Milani. It’d been two days, and Cadian hadn’t been able to shake his mood. A decision laid heavily on his mind, one he thought he’d already made. The more he thought about it, however, the more blurred it became. He hated picking sides in this war, but was it really picking sides? Wasn’t he just making things right? Whether he was truly picking sides or not, it would likely be viewed that way. He didn’t fear being hunted. Something about anyone taking credit for his kill didn’t sit right with him.
The Tokyo Settlement was rich in the history of multiple countries, and the F.L.E.I.J.A. memorial was perhaps the most painful reminder of Japan’s history. It was there that Cadian had gone to think of what his own history meant to him. Was Cadian pained enough by his history with the would be King to betray a pact? Is it betrayal when he was betrayed first, or is it simply retribution? What was the saying… All’s fair in love and war? Was this even war? Not likely; it was personal. And it certainly wasn’t love.
Cadian wandered the grounds ignoring most of the sounds around him. This place had no significance to him. It was the result of war. Cadian had no interest in war beyond taking care of the children left abandoned. Perhaps it was insensitive to think that all those names had in some way deserved what they’d gotten. They’d brought it on themselves. Maybe it was heartless, but Cadian had never been one to extend his compassion to anyone beyond his children. Then again, maybe he was just starting to think more like Milani.
The platinum haired man sighed and ran his hands over his face. He didn’t know if that would be beneficial or not. He was young still; he knew that, but did knowledge come with age or would he just become more withdrawn and bitter? Cadian hadn’t cared to notice who he was passing, but he paused at a vaguely familiar presence and blue eyes scanned his surroundings to locate its source. It wasn’t hard to pick Gauron out of the crowd. The man wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Cadian hadn’t spent much time around the man during his stay in China, but he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to avoid him. In fact there had been a time or two that Cadian had tried to get in the man’s way and anger him just to see if Gauron would turn the knives he so loved on him. Cadian had never been successful in such an attempt, but his curiosity still drew him to the other man. Part of him still wanted a taste of his knife. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Gauron? I didn’t think you were the type to go site seeing.”
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Oct 27, 2009 22:49:04 GMT -5
Gauron stayed where he was, despite a peculiar, yet familiar, sensation. It was the feeling of being observed. He could tell without looking that there was someone nearby taking a distinct interest in him. The feeling grew stronger and he could hear the scuff of shoes moving purposefully towards him.
Slowly, carefully, he put his hand into his suit jacket and wrapped it around the grip of his pistol. He was ready to draw, to shoot. He was ready to kill. When the other spoke, it came as a surprise. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, Gauron? I didn’t think you were the type to go site seeing.”
Without removing his hand, he turned towards the speaker. Cadian hadn't changed much in the years since their last meeting. His hair was still long and he still dressed strange. Nonetheless, Gauron found that the man was one of the few people on the planet that he did not completely hate. How could he? Cadian was the only person that he had ever met that was willing to risk his wrath despite knowing his reputation. Such fearlessness was commendable. Even still, if the opportunity presented itself, Gauron doubted he would pass up a chance to kill the man.
"Like you have room to talk, Cadian," he said coolly as he withdrew his hand. How long had it been? A year? Two? More? After living day-to-day as a mercenary since he was 18, dates and years no longer held much meaning. "And I only felt it appropriate to come here. It is, after all, a celebration of pain." He knew about Cadian's condition, his inability to feel his injuries, and also knew that he was fascinated by that which he could not feel. "It's beautiful, isn't it? How much suffering one tiny button can cause? Almost makes me feel like having some fun." The final statement was laced with malevolence. Not directed at Cadian, but a general malice. It was a tone that Gauron was familiar with using and Cadian was undoubtedly used to hearing.
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Post by Cadian Armana Virria on Oct 27, 2009 23:16:35 GMT -5
There was movement and Cadian could guess even if he couldn’t quite see, Gauron’s hand twitch over a weapon. The whisper of curiosity at the back of his mind almost hoped he’d fire. “Like you have room to talk, Cadian.” The smaller man gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. It was a fair answer, but unlike Gauron, Cadian wasn’t tied to a country. Although to be fair, Gauron’s dedication to the nation he served wasn’t exactly undying. Cadian had chosen not to involve himself with their strife. It wasn’t his war, and he had little interest in it and its participants. “And I only felt it appropriate to come here. It is, after all, a celebration of pain.” Blue eyes narrowed in the slightest. He didn’t like the phrasing. Cadian had felt the pain of sorrow and loss, and at one point another kind, but never the type associated with the sensation of the cuts he often gave himself or the burns he often received whether on accident or purpose. Perhaps it was the pain of loss that Gauron referred to, but Cadian was doubtful of that, and the reminder of the one thing he didn’t understand frustrated him.
“I would hardly call it a celebration,” Cadian remarked sharply. “I thought it was meant as a reminder to future generations. A reminder to not repeat the mistakes of the past.” Perhaps that was its purpose, but Cadian was not naïve enough to think that it would have any success in its endeavor.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” It wasn’t Cadian’s first choice of adjective. “How much suffering one tiny button can cause? Almost makes me feel like having some fun.” Blue eyes turned up to look at the taller man with mild curiosity.
“It’s unfathomable how insensitive the men pushing those tiny buttons can be.” That was slightly hypocritical, and Cadian knew it. “And what kind of fun would a vassal of the Chinese Empress be seeking in Area 11 so near to the Britannian Emperor’s wedding?” There was sarcasm in his tone now. Cadian doubted the man was here on anything even remotely resembling official business, but then again, maybe he was one of the enemies the Fool Emperor had invited to his ceremony.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Oct 28, 2009 11:40:01 GMT -5
"It’s unfathomable how insensitive the men pushing those tiny buttons can be.” Gauron couldn't help but chuckle at the statement. Sensitivities had no place on a battlefield. Cadian's statement did little more than cement the mercenary's belief that the man would do well with a healthy dose of firsthand experience in war. “And what kind of fun would a vassal of the Chinese Empress be seeking in Area 11 so near to the Britannian Emperor’s wedding?”
Gauron smiled unpleasantly. There was no one else near the pair, so he could get away with speaking openly. "You know as well as I do that I'm no vassal; I'm just a spy. For the moment, anyway." He looked Cadian in the eyes. "And you're fully aware of the kind of fun that I'm talking about. The same kind that results in creating more of those forsaken that you love so very much." He was referring to the orphans that Cadian dedicated so much of his time to. "But enough about me. What are you doing here? As I understand it, visiting tourist traps isn't your greatest joy either."
With a sudden revalation, Gauron realized that he had a chance to show Cadian the world that he lived in. An opportunity to bring suffering to an entire nation. "Perhaps you'll join me for my next game." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and held it out to the man. The date and location of the Emperor's wedding was scrawled on it. "I have a way in and I'm sure that you would like the opportunity to pay His Highness your congratulations on His happiest of days." Gauron hadn't been ordered to attend the ceremonies, but he had never cared much for the wishes of those who were situated above him on the totem pole. Procuring the information had been an obnoxiously easy, almost boring, process. Britannian nobles were so simple to bend this way or that with a simple twist of a knife.
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Post by lloyd on Oct 28, 2009 18:18:33 GMT -5
Mornings. Kayeri hated mornings. Firstly, since he constantly shuffled between both sides of the globe, almost every morning involved jet lag (today not least among them). Plus, as Baron Benjamin Franklin once said, “Early to bed and Early to rise makes a man stupid and blind in the eyes.” Hm, that doesn’t sound right. Ah well. Mornings had that effect too. Kayeri looked at the coffee he had bought from the hotel. It tasted bad, but at least it woke him up. ugh, might as well get over it. Bringing his head back, he emptied the whole cup in his mouth.
Several minutes later, an awake (and much wiser) Kayeri rubbed his burnt tongue gingerly as he swilled cool tap water in his mouth. Passing by a nearby potted plant, he quickly sprayed the plant with the mix of coffee and water. As always when not in an informal situation, he was wearing his traditional Iroquois clothing instead of Chinese Ceremonial dress (though he made a point to keep both the ceremonial Tomahawk of the Iroquois and the short sword of the Chinese Nobility at the same side). It did make the Britannians somewhat more accommodating. Better than a Britannian savage than a Chinese savage. Speaking of which there was that wedding that the Britannian Emperor had held. Technically, Kayeri wasn’t invited—but money has a way of making men blind. Without really knowing how, Kayeri wandered towards the large Tokyo Memorial in remembrance of FLEIJA. That weapon had, in its own destructive way, ensured peace for three generations. But of course, all lessons fade away. And most certainly, that lesson was likely to come upon the world again. Kayeri didn’t mind. War meant industry was needed. And the Iroquois had a lot of industry.
“Oh.” Kayeri blinked at the two people talking with each other. One, while feminine, was probably a man (Kayeri, though, with his own long hair, realized he wasn’t one to talk). The other would have resembled nothing more than a job-seeking hobo on too much coffee had Kayeri not recognized him. Honestly, he wished he hadn’t. Josef "Gauron" Totschläger—the Massacre Salesman. A vicious soldier without much in the way of loyalty. Hired at various times by various interest groups. In a way, he always repaid the cost paid to him with his deadly skill—but on the other hand, once there was more money to be had, he didn’t mind leaving his contracts early. Perhaps just to keep an eye on him, the Chinese Federation had hired the man for various odd jobs that generally involved a little physical action. Totschläger had a funny reputation with knightmare pilots—four out of every five of his pupils ended up mentally or physically scarred—but those that didn’t became some of the best pilots in the Federation. This man, to the Chinese Government, was a necessary evil. And maybe they were true—but Kayeri could not forget the death of General Hassan Khalid of the Ottoman Army. Sure, nobody had really quite enjoyed the pompous and brash general’s complaints, but only one or two people would solve it by shoving a pistol barrel in his mouth. And only one would pull the trigger.
On one hand, Kayeri would have wanted to just leave--but that was not only an affront, but also politically awkward if the mercenary stopped him. Instead, it was probably a better idea to greet him directly. "Good Morning, Sirs," he said with forced cheerfulness as he walked up to them. Nobody needed to see the way Kayeri played with the small throwing knife that Kayeri kept inside his robe sleeve.
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Post by Cadian Armana Virria on Oct 28, 2009 18:31:11 GMT -5
“You know as well as I do that I’m no vassal; I’m just a spy. For the moment, anyway.” What the man did ‘for the moment’ didn’t much matter to Cadian. It was the fact that the man had no loyalty to anyone or anything that he didn’t approve of. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. The man was loyal to himself. He did as he pleased, and it wasn’t that Cadian didn’t. Rather it was the manner that differed between the two. There was a distinct difference between Gauron’s lack of care for anything except what amused him, and Cadian’s care for only that which rightfully deserved care. “And you’re fully aware of the kind of fun that I’m talking about. The same kind that results in creating more of those forsaken that you love so very much.”
Not even Milani was quite so openly violent. Sure, Cadian knew where her tastes lie, but she didn’t go out of her way to throw it into conversation. She knew Cadian didn’t share her fancies. At least not yet. “I’m not so sure that I’m the only one who can’t feel.” Cadian grit his teeth, and came very close to striking the man for more than the simple reason that he wanted to be struck in return. Only the fact that Gauron moved on quickly made Cadian hold his ground.
“But enough about me. What are you doing here? As I understand it, visiting tourist traps isn’t your greatest joy either.”
Cadian turned his head away, not desiring to look the man in the eye anymore. “I find less joy in burdening children with a decision weighing on my mind. You wouldn’t understand what it means to consider others when you decide your actions.”
“Perhaps you’ll join me for my next game.”
Cadian whipped his head back to the bigger man. “Why would I—“ Cadian instantly shut his mouth as his eyes landed on the paper in Gauron’s hand.
“I have a way in and I’m sure that you would like the opportunity to pay His Highness your congratulations on His happiest of days.”
The anger that had come over him during his talk with Milani came back quickly, and Cadian didn’t bother to check it. He smacked Gauron’s hand away and narrowed his eyes. “If you so much as lay a hand on Him, I will make you pay for it. He is mine, and I shall choose what to take in return for the betrayal he did to me. No one else has a right to touch what was mine first. Including you,” Cadian hissed with a venom in his voice he rarely used. “Do you understand me? If Gauron had dared to disagree or taunt him, Cadian would have struck him this time with the amount of fury he had at the man for daring to even allude to the possibility of claiming his prey. Or at least he would have if someone hadn’t interrupted.
“Good morning, Sirs.” Cadian didn’t cool his anger much but turned only the slightest bit to look at the other.
“Some would think it’s rude to intrude on a private conversation.” The venom was gone from his voice, but the remark was still sharp with Cadian’s lingering fury.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Oct 28, 2009 19:05:53 GMT -5
Cadian's reaction was rather shocking. Gauron hadn't exactly figured that the silver-haired man would agree with any sort of happiness, but he definitely did not expect him to strike.
“If you so much as lay a hand on Him, I will make you pay for it. He is mine, and I shall choose what to take in return for the betrayal he did to me. No one else has a right to touch what was mine first. Including you. Do you understand me?
"Who ever said anything about the Emperor himself?" Gauron replied in a pleasant tone. 'Maybe he has a better feel for the world than I thought,' he mused. 'A small push in the right direction could make him very useful.'
As he was about to explain that he would rather target the blushing bride-to-be, another man interrupted the conversation."Good Morning, Sirs"
Gauron slipped the piece of paper back into his pocket and turned his stare to the newcomer. The man was Kayeri Brant, a "superior" of his within the Chinese Federation. In spite of that, he did not salute or show any other form of respect. "Hello, Kayeri. Any luck on finding out who killed General - oh, what was his name? - Khalid, was it?" The question was coated with dark sarcasm; after all, Gauron had been the one that killed the man.
He hated when people questioned him. He loathed repeating himself. The general had tried to do both. At the time, they had been in a meeting where Gauron was reporting his latest findings, and so he was unable to act. Afterward, though, was a different story. Gauron had discreetly followed the man to his room and then spent some "quality" time with him. Quality time that involved a knife, lots of screaming, and culminated with the mercenary's pistol secured firmly in the general's mouth shortly before a fair deal of his cranium and its contents had been splattered across the wall and floor. Gauron looked back on the memory with a smile.
During the subsequent trial, he was cleared of all charges and allowed to continue his intelligence work. The judge knew Gauron's reputation and wanted to avoid being on what many had come to call "The List." Simply put, they believed that Gauron kept a list of people that he was going to kill. When one of the Knightmare Devicers that he had trained explained that to him, the mercenary couldn't help but laugh.
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Post by lloyd on Oct 28, 2009 19:36:50 GMT -5
Kayeri was incensed for a moment, but a politician's life had already taught him to hide anger at both of them. "Saying hello hardly counts as an intrusion," he said mildly in greeting to the long-haired man as he turned to Totschlager. While he was tempted to rise up to the bait, he wasn't inclined to have this man as a personal enemy. Instead, Kayeri contented himself with an equally sarcastic response. "I don't know, maybe that same group that leaked your German and Britannian bank accounts to the EU authorities?" Kayeri had not been personally involved in that, but an international corporation like the Iroquois Confederacy had many eyes and ears. If there were anything this man was in anyway sensitive to, it would probably be money. As all of us are.
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Aoi Akuma
Black Knights
Second Division Captain[M:6046]
"I have no more tears to shed, only blood."
Posts: 74
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Post by Aoi Akuma on Oct 28, 2009 21:04:25 GMT -5
This day, this anniversary may not have had anything to do with Aoi but she felt she should be there. In honor of it, and to keep herself from being recognized as a Black Knight, Aoi discarded her usual headdress. She placed her hair in a high ponytail that ended somewhere along her hips and thighs. Her blue hair was tucked behind her ears revealing a small black kanji tattoo. She was not concerned with who saw it for they would have to be high ranking in Britannia to even have an inkling of what it stood for. And if someone else recognized it they’d have to be an assassin, maybe even a high ranking mercenary if that, and had contact with them. She adorned a black tunic that bagged at the cuffs. Underneath she wore black skinny jeans. Her normal boots tapped as she walked towards her destination.
Cerulean eyes glanced up as she reached her destination. They scanned the monitor as names passed by. Thousands. Millions. Killed by a single weapon. Bowing her head she silently prayed. She may not have had any connection with those who were lost but, she knew their pain. She felt it when she lost her parents, when the innocent were killed in this war, and when she saw the abandoned children not noticed by their parents’ murderers.
Her ears perked slightly as one eye cracked itself open as she heard the sound of voices that didn’t seem to belong. Her sole eye studied them, the Black Knight in her suspicious even at a time like this, for any distinguishing marks. She recognized one as a German and another as a mix of Chinese and something she couldn’t quite place. The other she couldn’t quite define his ethnicity but could definitely tell he was from somewhere in England.
Subconsciously she fingered her tattoo before her hand trailed down to finger something hidden by her tunic, her signature knife. There was no way she’d go into Britannian known territory unarmed. So slowly, silently, she waited for any inkling that they had something she needed.
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Post by majesticarchfiend on Oct 28, 2009 23:47:11 GMT -5
A thin sliver of smoke trailing behind him from the cigarette in his hand, Kazuki stood slightly back, taking a careful look at the other people clustered around the memorial - one man, dark-haired, with an ugly scar on one side of his face and death in his eyes. Two younger men, one mixed-blood with black hair, the other a Britannian, with long, silver hair. And one woman, blue-hair tyed in a ponytail, pale-skinned, black tunic.
He took a deep breath, tossed the cigarette butt into the nearest garbage bin, and approached. One hundred years had passed. One night, 35 million dead. All but a handful of them civilians. Suzaku Kururugi...the so-called Knight of Zero. A traitor to his people if ever there was one. Kazuki thought to himself.
"It's terrifying, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically as he scanned the seeemingly endless list of names. "So many lives, snuffed out in less time than it takes to say it. And all by one man..."
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Post by lloyd on Oct 29, 2009 16:38:40 GMT -5
Kayeri blinked as he saw the man next to him. An Japanese, no doubt. Probably not an especially friendly one either. "One man, indeed--but a man who at the same time put an end to War for three generations." Kayeri turned to the man (somewhat comically, considering the height difference. Kayeri was almost a head shorter than the tall man). "In Southeast Asia alone, over 200 Million Britannians, Chinese, Southeast Asians and Japanese died during the Pacific Wars and the Black Rebellion, and 40 Million died from Prince Schneizel's bombing of Pendragon." Kayeri was almost tempted to say eleven. Guess i've stayed in Britannia for too long? "The 35 million made the sacrifice that saved far more than 240 million." FLEIJA, as much of a demonic weapon as it was, had shocked the world with its destructive power in a way that the EU, Emperor Charles, Emperor Lelouch and even Zero could not match. "It's a pity that so many of us are forgetting it."
Kayeri paused for a moment as he looked at the list. He could not blame the Black Knights, nor could he blame the Britannian Military. After all, Britannia's new Imperialism had brought the more impoverished Iroquois of the 21 Tribes into prosperity. The Black Knights saw this obviously as an infringement of their sovereignty as a nation. But honestly, is Unity such a problem? It was the Roman Empire that spread civilizatino and christianity over such a large area, the Chinese Han Empire that brought culture to Japan, Korea and Indochina. If everyone were united, who would there be to fight? As cruel as Genghis Khan was (boiling lead was poured into the eyes of those who betrayed him), the Yuan Empire was one of the most enlightened of its day. Like FLEIJA, Britannia's rather unenlightened practices would be justified by history if it managed to form a comprehensive government and save many more lives from war.
But even as he thoguht it, Kayeri concluded it wasn't going to happen. The simple fact was that the Roman Empire's size was also the thing that doomed it--just like the ottomans that Kayeri's own Chinese Government struggled to support in Turkey. Peace meant that everyone was on teh same side--and so there would be no competition, no innovation. It is danger that separates those doomed by god from those blessed from God, as Charles Darwin had once said (though as a protestant, Kayeri didn't quite put much to the words of Catholics anyhow.) Without innovation, society would crumble--as would the capitalism that the Iroquois relied on. War meant that life was a constant race by each nation to keep up with the others. Only through war had technology make such leap and bounds like Sakuradite and bring technology to so many nations. And a peace through superior firepower, a nation ruled by fear, would give way to resentment once a ruler emerged who for once tried to be nice--and what would result would be war. Again. Even in the Iroquois nations, the Sioux and Mohawk were already calling for war, and their faction in the council of Sachems was rapidly gaining power--once they were in the majority, a war council would be inevitable.
But how can constant war be the answer? Kayeri could not accept that the world had to advance at the cost of millions of lives. Doctor Ke-Lan in Liaodong had once explained that the state of the universe was towards constant and eventually homologous entropy--not ordered nothingness, but simply eternal heat, a mess of energy with no direction. Is this maybe our world's way of fighting this, the way of the gods? To forces us to constantly fight and find new ways to get around the slow death of the universe...?
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Post by grigori on Oct 30, 2009 16:30:27 GMT -5
Grigori stared blankly at the list of names through his sunglasses. He never read any of them in particular... to him it all spelled the same thing: reckless destruction. Surely a demonstration of military prowess... but also a sign of personal weakness. Was chivalry really dead to this world?
Grigori was wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt, along with his tan long coat over it. His ears were always peeled for information, and having noticed Gauron here, along with Kayeri, he couldn't resist the idea of eavesdropping from a safe distance.
Grigori had seen Kayeri before. How could he not? Such a well-traveled politician. He had never officially met him, but he had heard rumors of what he had done in his short life. Grigori couldn't help but feel a very faint admiration of the young man's dedication. Gauron, on the other hand, was someone Grigori knew. A barbaric blood-thirsty war hound... at least, that's what Grigori called him in his mind. This was both good and bad. Grigori appreciated the importance of war, but he was also a strong believer of fighting for something. Gauron, on the other hand, seemed to fight for the sake of fighting. Grigori felt this was an empty existence... at times he wondered how could anyone live like that.
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Post by Cadian Armana Virria on Oct 30, 2009 23:34:52 GMT -5
“Who ever said anything about the Emperor himself?”
Cadian’s eyes narrowed further, but with the addition of the intruder he stayed where he was. The Emperor was not Cadian’s preferred target, but it had been decided for him. Taking what he wanted would mean nothing if another took the traitor’s blood. It would be meaningless violence, cruel and unnecessary. And if Cadian couldn’t have Her, no one else would either, especially not Gauron.
“Saying hello hardly counts as an intrusion.” Cadian’s eyes slid to the man, Kayeri Gauron had called him, who had interrupted them. As far as he was concerned it did. Cadian tuned out their talk, tempted to leave. They spoke of some general which meant nothing to Cadian. It was only another example of Gauron’s need for blood.
Turning his head away, Cadian’s eyes fell on a rather familiar figure. The bluenette looked different to be sure, but her shape was very similar, and it was hard to mistake her hair. This was the girl who had kidnapped the princess… She was a Black Knight. Cadian studied her a while. She was watching them or at least listening. Cadian didn’t pick sides .He didn’t particularly care what she was, but she intrigued him a bit.
“It’s terrifying, isn’t it?”
Cadian sighed. “Another intruder,” he murmured.
“So many lives, snuffed out in less time than it takes to say it. And all by one man…” Terrifying was one word. Stupid was another. Pointless was even better.
The Chinese kid responded with numbers, and Cadian’s hands tightened to fists. Numbers. He had to be a politician. They always talked numbers, but they were never accurate. Sure it may in regards to actual deaths but never the real number of total ‘casualties.’ Their figures would have to almost double to include the family members and orphans left behind. Many of them die after the actual incident from grief or simply being unable to survive alone, but politicians never cared about that. They liked numbers to parade around in support of whatever cause they claimed to believe in. “It’s a pity that so many of us are forgetting it.”
“It’s more a pity that people like you enjoy using it to enhance some political gain.” Cadian’s tone was calmer again as he turned his eyes away from the bluenette and back to the boy, but his eyes were just as cold.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Oct 31, 2009 3:34:48 GMT -5
"I don't know, maybe that same group that leaked your German and Britannian bank accounts to the EU authorities?" Kayeri was getting smug. No doubt he thought he could surprise Gauron with the statement.
"There will always be more money," he stated with a shrug. "Although... the Federation has been rather strict with me lately. I don't appreciate it." The unspoken threat of prematurely canceling his contract with the Chinese hung in the air.
Another man, this one an Eleven, strode into the mix and began speaking. By the way he carried himself, he seemed to be one of those that considered himself Japanese. It was probable that he was a resistance fighter. Gauron could feel that a hunt would begin soon.
Rather than take an interest in what he and Kayeri were talking about, he turned to Cadian. The platinum-haired man had been brooding since Kayeri's interruption. “Another intruder.” The words were spoken softly. Even he had barely caught it. Gauron stole a quick glance in the direction of Cadian's attention.
Another Eleven, this one a woman, stood some distance away. She had taken a particular interest in the group, but was making an effort to hide it. She too held herself with pride. It seemed as though the memorial was popular among resistance fighters.
“It’s more a pity that people like you enjoy using it to enhance some political gain.” Cadian was insulting Kayeri at every opportunity and Gauron couldn't help but enjoy it. Too many Chinese officials bowed to the boy's will and it was good to see someone put him in his place.
Gauron turned back to Cadian, his face neutral. "My offer still stands, you know." As he said this, he withdrew a different piece of paper. This one resembled a business card, but only had a cell phone number on it. The account was registered under a false name and the device itself was disposable. He would use it once and then get rid of it. "I don't know what game you want to play, Mister Silver, but I know mine. Lay claim to anything you like and I'll stay out of your way."
Cadian, of course, had no reason to believe him. Gauron had lied to countless people throughout his life and that wasn't about to change any time soon, but he saw potential in the man; the potential to be just like himself. If he wanted to take the shot, all he had to do was call the number.
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