CHRONO'S WORLD

Authored by Warp Ligia Obscura

Disclaimer: The Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha original concept does not belong to me, as do any of the characters and concepts not mine. Concepts and characters variably registered in Japan, the United States of America and other countries around the world. Used without official permission. No challenge to their status intended. All Rights Reserved to their respective owners. This is a work of fiction. Any real-world events, locations, organisations or persons cited are used fictitiously for parody or satire purposes and strictly not to be taken as a proper reflection of their actual self.

ThisisjustasectionsplitterPleaseignoreit

Chrono Harlaown's mind wandered.

Rationality told him that this was not the right time for him to be less than focused. Advance teams may have swept the area before allowing him to move in, but he had seen enough examples of the consequences of carelessness. No true leader enjoyed losing men, but he was mildly thankful that it got a little bit easier every time he had to vet through another of those letters.

A few months back, Yuuno had taken interest in some graphic novel from Nanoha and Hayate's home world, specifically their homeland. Something about a... a weird adventure? Whatever it was, it had led him down some odd flights of fancy. Odd by objective standards at any rate. Chrono would have had dismissed it as another passing fad if not for one thing:

He had been dragged into it.

Ferret Boy had been politely but firmly insistent that Chrono was the right person for using the spell that he had dug out from goodness knows where. It was bad enough that the spell's mere existence shattered existing paradigms about the immutability and uncontrollability of time. Then, to make matters worse, Reinforce and Cinque had attempted to teach him Bloody Dagger and Rumble Detonator despite his protests that Stinger Blade was perfectly serviceable. They had proceeded to wax eloquent about throwing ice blocks around and shrieking like beasts.

There were times when Chrono wondered if Yuuno really knew what he was doing. It was easy to think that he was a mere organiser of books and records and goodness knew that Chrono himself had fallen into that pattern of thinking.

He would often proceed to give himself a dope slap. To think that Yuuno was a "mere civilian" was utter foolishness. It was rumoured in some circles that he knew more about highly-classified unmentionables than Chrono's own men and even High Command knew better than to take him lightly. If Yuuno was aware of how much clout he really had, he never acted like it, though.

Chrono caught himself. The key word was "act".

As for Reinforce Scrya, given her... checkered history, she was no stranger to wetwork. However, she had been most empathetic in her refusal. The fact that she had two… he could not dispel the mental image of the Scrya children as ferret-books… young ones to deal with probably had something to do with that.

Which brought things back to why he was out here in the field instead of being safely ensconced in HQ.

They had been in pursuit of a dangerous dissident group for a while. All the pieces of the puzzle had been slowly but surely falling into place.

A day before the men would have been able to sweep them up, however, the group had managed to carry out a sudden strike with hitherto-unknown resources. How much they really knew was something to be determined; what was inarguable was the cost.

Heads would roll for this failure, and Chrono had a feeling that his would be at the top of the pile. However, the thought of losing his career was inconsequential beside the personal cost to himself. His family had been caught in the blasts; Amy and Bonnie had gotten away relatively lightly. Dutch, on the other hand... Try as he must, Chrono could not shake off the image of his son lying in an intensive care unit, an oxygen mask over his face, in preparation for surgery to save his right side.

The breadcrumb trail of clues had led to this place, a seemingly-abandoned factory. A part of his mind had told him that it was too stereotypical, that if the group could pull a sudden bombing from nowhere, then they could plant enough red herrings to divert attention from the right places.

Surprisingly enough, these were all unfounded fears, for the sweep had been as thorough as predicted, with one exception. The leader was supposed to be in the room at the end of this corridor. A teleport interdictor was in place to prevent the other's escape, and there was an overwatch in place in case he tried to fly out.

The first thing that struck Chrono about the room was its emptiness. He had had the chance to examine the bases of now-destroyed separatist movement before and this did not look like any of the others. If it was the central planning room, it was devoid of a stereotypical table for placing physical maps or projectors for displaying information. It lacked the accoutrements of a typical office too. The one thing out of place was a mezzanine level.

Slow-footed and deliberate, Chrono strode into the centre of the room, scanning about him with the understated efficiency of a man for whom death was but the lightest punishment for sloppiness. After a five-minute wait, he said loudly to the seemingly-empty room, "The game's up! If you surrender yourself peacefully and co-operate, you may get a lighter sentence. Resistance is-"

Most other people would have missed the cues: an unsheathing of a sword, as indistinct as the whisper of the wind, a jumping-off as gentle as a caress. For them, it would have concluded with a superbly-sharp blade through the head before they would know anything was amiss.

Chrono was not most other people.

"-futile."

The other's supposedly-implacable weapon crashed to a bone-jarring halt against the near-undetectable barrier trick Yuuno had imparted. Despite his better nature, Chrono wished that he had something to immortalize the enemy's stunned expression with, for it was that which Meisterkarte could not pay for.

"H-ho-"

The other never got to finish his sentence, for Chrono's free hand smashed into his gut, forcing the wind out of him.

"Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile. Futile."

Chrono's fist was a blur, seemingly in more than one place at the same time as he laid into the other with a brutal yet calculated fury. Blows that would have dented reinforced concrete or tank-grade armour plating smashed into the villain like the rhythmic pulsing of jackhammers. During this period, his left hand was not idle. Necessity had taught him the art of using S2U and later Durandal single-handed, a technique he now put to good use.

The villain coughed deeply, his chest heaving violently as he slid back at least five man-lengths, and Chrono, caught in the heat of the moment, instinctively said the next two words. On reflection, he would be glad that Ferret Boy had not been witness.

"Za Warudo!"

ThisisjustasectionsplitterPleaseignoreit

Author's Notes: I sometimes wonder what I am really on. I admit to being inspired by certain other views of Chrono, ones which are incompatible with this Yuuforce thing I am brewing.

If you had looked closely, you would have seen the twist coming. I dropped various hints about it earlier on, trying to be less Incomprehensible than with Prinz von Sommerhoffnung, but I still wonder how many will catch them all without referring.