"By your leave, Prince Schneizel," said the corpulent man on the screen.
"I shall be looking forward to further developments, Ambassador," the Second Prince of Britannia nodded as he made a motion of dismissal.
The dimmed lights in the room flared up, illuminating another man, who was as impeccably dressed as the Prince, standing in crisp attention behind the Prince's chair.
The fair-faced man took the opportunity to offer the Prince some tea, which the latter gladly accepted with a nod. "If I may be so brutally honest, Your Majesty," the man said courteously, "wasn't that a bit too harsh on the old ambassador? You had known full well that he could not be trusted with even this year's derby hopefuls."
"I am aware that his trustworthiness was in question; rather, it was his incompetence that marred my pleasant disposition," the Prince replied neutrally.
"Of course, you, as the paragon of competence in Britannia and possibly the entire known and unknown world, take offense to this lack which you see in others."
"You know me too well, Kanon. I believe I shall postpone hearing Clovis' message for later."
After a brief period of silence, the Prince put down his empty cup and leaned back into his chair. Kanon knew that the Prince liked to use this brief periods of inactivity to contemplate (sometimes aloud, with him) and nothing more.
"What do you think, Kanon? About the state of the world as it is now? As our mild- mannered ambassador has told us, we cannot 'ask for any more peace' than that which we have right now."
"That is merely an illusion of a desk-loving bureaucrat, sire," Kanon scoffed. "The world is as it is through the actions of Britannia, through our attempts to enforce the will of the Crown. Time and again, we have proved - "
"'That we dictate the course of history, and the world' - yes, quite lovely repeat of our historians' propaganda." The Prince chuckled, steepling his fingers before him in thought. "Many moving pieces, Kanon, some obvious to even the eyes of our 'keen' ambassador. Some other pieces lurking, waiting patiently for the chance to strike. Britannia holds dominance, but who can say what the next turn shall bring?"
"Since you shall be there, and in every turn afterwards, sir, I shall ever be at your command."
"That means a lot to me, Kanon," the Prince nodded in appreciation, "and I patiently await fate's next move."
The distant boom of aircraft launching shook the curly-haired boy awake. Suzaku looked around him and saw the bare few Elevens who'd made it through the Honorary Britannian by Conscription program sleeping just as he'd been inside the cramped quarters of a transport vehicle.
Once, there'd been a hundred proud hopefuls, each aiming to use the skills that could've gone to preserving their nation's dignity for the benefit of the Britannian Throne.
A few grueling years later had reduced that spare hundred to fifty, and now there was a trickle half-dozen left, and the Britannians were satisfied with just that.
Of course, the many youths who had been eliminated from the roster had been dismissed after they couldn't seem to bear the backbreaking and sometimes humiliating exercises they were required to put to, not to mention the many kinds of abuse that their instructors would put them through.
Some cadets mysteriously disappeared for speaking up about it.
Suzaku Kururugi watched it all unfold before his eyes, but he chose to wait. He'd decided that the evils of the men would bite them back sooner, if not later, and it wouldn't do any good to jeopardize his long term goal now.
Not when he was one step closer to it.
"Naive" had been one of the things his crewmates had said of it, in the times when he'd relented and opened up about his dream. He wouldn't be seeing those people anymore, as they'd been one of the people whose bodies had been rendered completely useless from the exercises. He'd had the opportunity to prevent that from happening, but he hadn't the motivation to try hard.
He was old enough to know that it wasn't a realistic dream, but that wouldn't stop this determined Honorary Britannian.
Not when there was a nation at stake, and not when there might be other people who shared that exact same dream.
Summer sessions with the royal tutors had ended quite favorably for Third Princess of the Imperial Family, Euphemia li Britannia, as the tutors themselves reported to her older sister. Though there had been some wrinkles with regards to some subjects, like Britannian history, which the princess didn't seem keen on studying closely.
Truth be told, they'd written to the Second Princess, there were a touch of other stuff that they'd wanted to teach the girl, as Cornelia herself had prescribed, but it seemed that Euphemia had closeted herself off in the long abandoned Aries Palace again, refusing any visitations on threats of vile 'dismemberment'.
Regretfully, the tutors had concluded, the only way for their esteemed selves to continue their august work would be if Cornelia herself would come and persuade Euphemia personally, a fact which the tutors urged would be most favorable for the Third Princess's sake.
Inside the aforementioned Aries Palace were a maze of gardens that the late Imperial consort Marianne had loved, and were still being maintained by orders of the Second Princess.
At least, they had seemed like mazes in the past, when they'd been much smaller, Euphemia thought as she sat on a time-worn but still pristine stone bench.
Anytime that the pinkette princess had felt nostalgic, Euphemia would cease her current actions and order her driver to take her straight to the Aries Palace, so she could spend a few hours of peace in the multicolored garden.
This particular time, Euphemia had felt an emotion akin to melancholy when her tutors had breached the subject of modern history, especially on the part of the recent inclusion of Area Eleven, an event which had happened in her childhood.
For Euphemia, speaking, listening or even thinking of that time was a taboo unto itself, as she'd lost more than just tears during that time.
Not one to immerse herself fully in the gloom, Euphemia instead conjured up happier images of her pleasant time here long ago, running around without a care in the world through the myriad pathways within the gardens.
She saw peaceful faces, unaware of the grief that would befall them and living solely in the innocent present.
It hurt inside so much to consider that unjust, unhappy thought, for here she was surviving them into an even more uncertain world.
Euphemia li Britannia reassured herself with the fact that, as she was finally of the right age to exert some change, she would have little difficulties in preventing any more similar events from happening again.
Through this, I can finally put your spirits to rest, Nunnally, Lelouch...
She only hoped no shallow-minded people would selfishly disrupt that for which she hoped.
"You're late, Tamaki." The leader of the rebel cell, Kaname Ohgi, muttered tiredly as his last member finally came in through the entrance to their secret base.
"I couldn't help it man, the new foreman's really strict with time tables and all that crap. And you know that we really need even that little amount we're getting for our gigs, and..."
"These aren't gigs, Tamaki."
"Potato, potato - whatever man, just go on with the meeting."
"Alright," the man known as Ohgi cleared his throat and spread the customary map of the Tokyo area in the center of the room. "As you all may have already heard in some way or another, the number of cells currently operating within the area has decreased. It seems that most of the other groups have either pulled back to the wider countryside-("Cowards," muttered Tamaki) or have been eliminated by the Britannian's counter-groups.
"Because of that, the resistance within range of the Settlement has slackened, but it's also given us a slight advantage." Ohgi traced the wide circles that he'd drawn earlier on the map, staring at everyone else in the room. "Our operating space has widened considerably."
"And how is that a good thing?" demanded the hothead.
With a placating gesture, Ohgi replied, "It means that we can still keep up the illusion of numerical superiority, even as we can easily dissolve into the slums should the situation call for it.
"Now, I know that some, if not all of you are still feeling a bit down since that last - mission," Ohgi did not say out loud what that had really been, a bust, "but now I have something new, something a bit more suitable for the scope of our manpower."
Tamaki and the others shifted in their places, the atmosphere in the room tightening like a bowstring. Ohgi coughed to clear his throat and adjusted his seating pose as he too shifted in place.
"The plan involves-"
"Hold on a sec," the red-haired man interrupted. As all strained eyes turned to him, he asked, "Where's Kallen? I think she needs to get in on this, too."
"I didn't call her, Tamaki," Ohgi replied in a strained voice.
"Why the hell not? She's as much a part of this rebellion as you now! Plus, she's a hell of a better driver than me, or Yoshida or Nagata-"
"Hey-"
"And," Tamaki continued over the others' protests, "she's said plenty of times that she's willing to fight with us! What's wrong with giving her a chance to continue Naoto's dream?"
The rest of the group grimaced uncomfortably at the mention of that name, now two years departed, he who had started up this little cell in the first place. Ohgi especially pursed his lips, as if mulling over what Tamaki had said.
"But she's still too young..."
"Aw man, again with that 'too young' crap! She's old enough to make her own decisions, and Naoto kept on saying that only you can decide what's best for yourself, so if Kallen knows that she wants that, then why stop her?"
"But she's not old enough, Tamaki. And I'm not sure that's what Naoto would've wanted for her. The bloodied life of a rebel certainly doesn't fit her..." Ohgi said, his eyes furrowed in deep introspection.
Tamaki snorted, "If you'd told her about this meeting, you know she'd have words for you about that subject..."
After a moment of tense silence within the group, Ohgi finally cleared his throat. "Whether or not Kallen comes to this mission is not an important factor in this new mission. In fact, it might be very dangerous for all of us to participate, since the object in question is, shall we say, very much destructive.
"Though I am sure," Ohgi said in a loud voice as the others started to protest over the implication of being sat out, "that everyone's skills would be essential..."
"Even Kallen's?" Tamaki interjected yet again.
Ohgi breathed a final sigh as he locked his tired eyes with the red-head's own briefly. "The plan involves an object, an experimental device that's reported to be so potent, that Britannia-
"...plan to move it as soon as we've had confirmation from Bartley- did you see that?" The bespectacled man gestured to his similarly white robed companion to something on the screen between them.
"See what?"
"There was a pulse...on the energy readings...seemed quite high on the chart there..." The first one wondered, pointing at the meters on the screen.
"That's impossible," the other scientist concluded. "It's probably just a random spike. If it happens again, I'll be sure to analyze it."
Deep in her prison, she waited, as the ominous winged symbol on her forehead dimmed from its recent outburst. She waited...
"I was waiting for a long time for her damn reports! Where is that dratted woman?" The uniformed man barked into his phone as he regarded an open file folder in front of him, on which was displayed the picture of a blonde-haired woman smiling brightly at the camera, next to her name in blocked letters - Solaris.
"And you haven't heard or seen anything at all?" Prez said loudly, carrying her voice from halfway across the room to where the speaker phone was placed on the long wooden table.
The boy speaking at the other side of the connection, Rivalz sighed audibly through the speakers and replied, "Nope, I've been to most of the gambling halls, to the quieter parts of the district, and he wasn't there, Madam Prez. I'm trying some of the less reputable of the gambling halls - I had a thought that he'd probably wanted to try non-noble opponents for a challenge, so I'll be looking there too."
"Well good luck, and call me when you have something."
"Will do, Madam Prez, and I must say I have to congratulate you on-"
Bleep. The blonde-haired president of the Ashford Academy student council sighed into her palms. That was probably her tenth sigh since the day had started.
She met the eyes of another member of the student council, the orangette Shirley, who had turned off the speaker phone and who had been sitting at the table. A vaguely exasperated look of understanding briefly crossed between the two girls.
Another girl, a bespectacled petite one who was sitting just behind Shirley and working on a computer terminal, then said, "Maybe the two of them are off taking a stroll again somewhere near the Bay..."
"Well, we certainly can't discount that possibility. Or that he's probably caught up in some bad business again. Or that he's mingling with the Elevens again, probably being hooked up with a prostitute-"
"Madam President!" Shirley, cheeks flushed had literally howled at the last part, making the other two girls jump in surprise. "Um...I mean, Lulu wouldn't dare do those kinds of things, right? Not when Nunna-chan's still, um-"
"Well, you've got a point there..."
"-and like, I know him and Rivalz are always skipping classes and going off to do shady stuff, but he's really responsible when it comes down to it, I mean just yesterday he gave all those science club guys a real scare."
Yesterday had indeed been an interesting time for the student council as, yet again, another one of the clubs who'd protested their reduced budgets had taken the vice-president's sister hostage in the science lab. That semi-serious action would have necessitated the intervention of the Academy's own security, but Lelouch Lamperouge had taken the initiative in vindictively cracking open, hunting down and punishing the offenders.
Nunnally had said that it had been the most frightening beat-up she had heard yet.
At the thought of that little invalid girl, Milly mood softened. It seemed like only yesterday that she'd been reunited with another one of her childhood friends, at first secretely together with her grandfather, and then publicly with a made-up alibi to the rest of the world. Now Nunnally was currently enrolled as a middle-school student in the Academy, working her way through a special course for one such as her.
Through the months that intervened, Milly never questioned Nunnally nor Lelouch about what kind of strange circumstance called for their devotion to being as secretive as possible with their private affairs. Lelouch would call their sudden absences as the need for Nunnally to see the doctor for medical attention, and Milly left it at that. And Milly never complained too, about Lelouch's adamant refusal to tell her or the rest of their acquaintances where they lived, privately telling the Ashford himself that to pry more would not be a good idea.
At the very least, Milly had decided, the girl had definitely warmed up to her friends in the student council, and vice versa. Rivalz even once mentioned that it was really hard to accept how one fair, sweet flower could possibly be related to the brooding, handsome boy who was always at his sister's side like an overprotective mother. Little Nunnally was named the new mascot of the student council. She was also considered as the "Untouchable": for one to get closer to the girl, one had to contend with the infamous brother, as the science club had found at the cost of their bruised prides.
It seemed to the heir of the Ashford legacy that even as the time since their reunion had lengthened, there were still as many unanswered questions in her mind as the time Lelouch had marched fiercely through that corridor, a very long time ago.
And that did not sit well with the young Ashford.
The old man coughed fiercely, another one of his fits, after another biting breeze wafted at him from the sea. Taking another swig from the bottle next to him, he adjusted the fishing line between his legs.
After wiping his moist lips with the back of his hand, he glanced once again to his immediate right where, just a few rocks down sat another person whose face was hidden by a billowing cloak.
The fishing spot was small, only a few rocks that surrounded a deep area of water that was also teeming with many small fish. To reach it, one had to find the secret path through a treacherous rocky climb just behind, and the old man was confident that he'd been the only one to discover it. He'd found this fishing spot a long time ago, and since then it had been his place of refuge and contemplation whenever things would just get a little too much in his life.
Over the years, there had been occasions when other people would intrude into this place, such as that time long ago when a war of sorts had broken out and a group of soldiers on a boat had hailed the man, saluting him at his spot for no apparent reason.
So it wasn't particularly surprising that one day, a cloaked stranger who was quite amicable under the hood would find his way to the spot - doing nothing but sit on the rocks and face the sea.
All throughout the day, he'd exchanged a few words with the stranger, sometimes out of courtesy in offering lunch, then in some other pleasantries that involved the weather or the sea. Most of the time though, was spent in a calm silence - hearing the waves crash lazily on the rocks and the whistling sounds of the wind. He had a right to be slightly uneasy as he had yet to be sure that that was really an Eleven under the hood, and not some Britannian whacko.
Another great thing about the spot was the view it offered of the sinking sun. As soon as he'd see that beautiful sight of the round, orange orb disappearing bit by bit into the shaded horizon, he would start packing up his things and leave.
"Leaving already?"
The stranger's muffled voice startled the old man a bit, who shrugged in reply, "Any other time, I'd really stay it out till early night, on hauls like this." He pointed to the scant number of fish piled inside the basket. "But the cold air's not good for these joints, like the doctor said, and I can't tolerate the night breezes that well. Plus, I got grandkids waiting for another bedtime story from this old guy. So, I got to pitch in early. I have to say, it's been a pleasure sitting here with you, for what it's worth."
The stranger replied in a much clearer voice, one which he finally concluded to be that of a man's, "Shame. Could've seen something interesting, if you'd stayed. Once in a lifetime. But man has his own time. Good night, old man."
Puzzled and a little unnerved by the man's disjointed speech, he gathered up his tools, said his brief goodbyeand left for the secret path a little too hurriedly. His last view of the stranger before the trees blocked his view was of him finally standing, covering his mouth with his right hand.
"Strange day..." the old man muttered.
Suddenly, he felt a tremor in the ground under him. Looking down at the path beneath his feet, he saw the bigger rocks visibly shake and crack in places, and smaller ones roll along the ground, taken by the rhythm. "Earthquake?" The old man muttered. He decided that crossing the path would be dangerous if the tremors continued, and that they did. What was strange was, some of the thunderous noise he'd heard seemed to be coming in the direction of his spot.
After a quick thought, he made his way back through the canopy of shivering trees, heading back for the spot. The constant rumbling never seemed to stop, causing him to brace himself on a trunk every other step.
When he finally heard the sounds of the crashing sea, he dropped his tools quietly on the ground and made his way stealthily through the last series of foliage before the spot. It was at this time that the noise of the rumbling seemed to come closer and closer, and the old man imagined that it really was heading for the spot. If so, that queer stranger might be in danger of something unknown.
The noise now closer, was accompanied by the distant sounds of trees falling down, and to this old man, it was indeed a frightening thought to consider that something was causing the disturbance. Crouched beside a strong-looking tree, the old man prayed that it was something man-made. The persistent tremors seemed to toll at his heart like a bell.
Like the roar of a terrible stormy night, the noise seemed to grow louder and louder, peaking to an unseen climax. The old man waited, torn between the desire to flee and his own overwhelming curiosity.
Immediately, the old man felt, instinctively at that, a definite presence that was behind the aweful noise grow and grow in his imagination. The tremors had increased in intensity, causing him to feel his very bones clack against each other. The old man crouched deeper into the bush covering him, his emotions akin to a frightened rabbit.
And then it came. A powerful force shook the trees, causing dislodged branches, twigs and leaves to scatter and bombard the old man - who was now positively terrified. Then he heard a screech, a keening sound that hurt his aged ears. That was the last straw for the old man. There would be no curious glance, no sir. He would run as fast and as far away as possible from here.
But before he could even begin to crawl, another wave of force blasted through the area, a great gust of wind that finally caused the beleaguered trees to lose their balance and fall.
Uttering a shriek borne of fear, the old man scrambled with all his might to avoid the falling limbs. He felt his skin break from cuts made by fallen branches and foliage as he blindly escaped his fallen sanctuary.
"Knew you c-c-couldn't stay away."
The old man blinked his eyes as he saw that he was at his spot again, lying prone on all fours. He swiftly looked to where the familiar voice of the stranger had come from, his mouth opening to demand an immediate explanation. The voice died in his throat when he saw what it was that stood behind the man.
Mouth opening and closing mindlessly, the old man broke into convulsions, his eyes fixed on that thing. Fear had paralyzed his mind completely, rendering it clueless to what naturally came next.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach, coming with the sound of the crunching of boots trudging over rough ground. Before he knew it, he had shifted from staring at the thing that loomed over him to gazing through a barrel of a gun, held by a hand that was now cocking the trigger.
Shivering inside the layers of cloth that cloaked him, the man from General Affairs regarded the twitching body of his day companion for a split-second before meeting the raven-haired boy's angry gaze.
"What were you thinking, bringing an outsider to the extraction point?", a deep voice demanded.
"U-u-nfortunate bystander. Well outside est-t-timations. B-but irrelevant, is it not?" the man stuttered as he watched the youth holster his weapon into his Devicer suit and march back to the Morgana. "...D-d-done worse things. To this p-p-point in time." He saw the boy pause for a beat before giving a hand-signal to the monstrous machine, as if communing with the Knightmare.
In response, the monstrous Frame bent its large knees before the youth after a series of mechanical screeches and chimes. The sight reminded the man of a child curiously regarding an insect. After another mechanical wheeze that cut through the crisp twilight air, the pilot's hatch opened, revealing the machine's other devicer.
The other Subject clambered out of the hatch with a sensible grace, and descended the safety lining with almost the same poise as that of a queen's. She was received on the ground with the same airs as the boy, on bent knee, gently caught the girl and reverently helped her on her feet to stand beside him.
It was an oft-repeated pattern: the Devicers rumbling in on the Morgana, fresh from their mission; after which he would give the debriefing and then facilitate the transport of the Morgana back to the mobile laboratory, giving the Devicers ample time to change into their normal clothes.
The deep, powerful voice spoke first. "Subject R. reporting, the target-"
The details of the mission results had grown tedious to the man, but he was unfazed because there was only one thing that interested him about these debriefing sessions.
"...Subject N. reporting, the target-"
In each and every session, his mind took in every detail of the two's movements, gestures, tones, moods, and everything noticeable that they did. Every brief frown, every passing look of concern, even the signs of tiredness around the eyes that he caught from the boy would be filed away; as well as every sign that the girl's body language indicated was taken note of.
This time, as the fading sunlight slowly started to recede from the coast, he ignored the way the wind whipped up his bangs so much, and let his eye observe.
The girl shivered. The boy cast a worrying glance ever so often as he spoke, the domed helmet dipped, indicating the girl was no longer paying attention to the man, couldn't see the eyes, so irrelevant, the boy's brows furrowed, fists clenched, his violet eyes meeting his amber own, a look of defiance, slight, but it was there, the girl's hand swept up, almost like trying to find the boy's own, but stopped, action unmissed by boy-
"I expect f-f-full report. As usual. T-today will be early night. Have much to do." Much to think.The man turned, indicating to the two that he was dismissing them, but he kept his half-lidded eyes on the two still - not wanting to miss even a single moment.
He was not disappointed to see what he wanted to see in just that single space of a second. The girl's body had lost its stiffness, curling up with arms crossed and moving a bit closer to the boy's. Indicating... The boy, on the other hand, had allowed the neutral mask that often covered his face when speaking to someone from the Project to slide off, showing an expression of cold appraisal. Of what, I wonder... His body had relaxed into a arrogant posture, instantly reminding the man of a haughty, contemplating king.
But that instant soon passed as he saw the boy then put his hand over the girl's shoulders before they went out of his line of sight. Unobserved, the man from General couldn't help but let a slight grin cross his features, even as he professionally schooled his face back to laconic dullness. His gaze caught his fallen companion's body and after a beat, he swept off the cloaks that covered his body in a single smooth motion, after which he covered the body casually with the cloth.
The man from General clucked his tongue in annoyance after being hailed by he blinking lights of the light underwater transport that was now surfacing from the water. So much paperwork to do, every single time. And yet...he pondered, letting the fresh, cool night breeze caress his body. There was no chance for a smoke, but there was for idle contemplation, the sort that the man hated but had no way to avoid.
"Um...sir?"
He raised his eyebrows in suprise before turning to the lady who'd called at him from the bottom of the Morgana. Conjuring a look of inquiry, he asked, "An addition, little one?" His eyes flicked to the dark-clothed man who glowered at him from a further distance away.
"N-nothing of the sort, I was- I saw you use your coat to cover...And I was wondering, since we have some spare clothes in the pack...if you could use one or two to cover yourself?..." The little slip of a Devicer asked worriedly.
Momentarily taken aback by this random action, the man switched from the girl to the boy and then back and forth for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"I appreciate the concern, but I am fine. Cold never bothers me that much. At night." The man made a few puffs into his closed fist and then rubbed his hands together to emphasize. "Go home now. Dismissed. No business here outside. Home is safer, better, warmer. It is a cold night."
She bowed slightly in acknowledgement, and then walked back to her brother. The man did not take his eyes off the two until after they had disappeared into the shadows of the upturned trees.
His contemplation cut by that sudden interruption, the man from General instead beheld the crouching behemoth that was still there, waiting for the crew to transport it. A slight frown crossed the man's face, as he muttered into the air, "Indeed a cold night."
Daily Diary:
I'm getting queasy, or something. What is the right word for that?I tried to ask Rimes, but he fell asleep after we finished, maybe next time...It's like this feeling that creeps up on you, urging you to do something important even if your mind knows it's feeling nagged me all day during that special meeting with way he described his prototype...It's quite revolutionary, and if we can finally get the means to manufacture it, we might just be able to outfit the Morgana with the core it deserves.I'm glad for my baby, but I feel that I should have come up with the schematics for that,not some second-rate underling. Almost tempted to convince him that something's wrong with the materials ...so it doesn't go public that HE made the breakthrough if I did that, then I may lose the chance to complete my baby. What to do, what to do...
Dr. Rouche Aiyme
Entry Log:
(sneeze)Damn weather's getting too cold for my tastes. Also given me an annoying cold that-(sneeze) GAH! Woman was hinting in the last meeting that her toy will finally be..."old" enough to be able to use some of my railguns...(chuckle) We'll see about that,and it's not like railguns are the by and by for me anymore, it's all about the , big lasers. (laugh)
R. Valdez
(as dictated by Dr. Rimes Duran)
So the good missus practically jumped me last night as I was about to record this, so that's why I'm dictating this a day late. Progress has been temporarily stalled, owing to something that she said was desperately needed for something with the Morgana. I let it be, though whether or not it's because of our new relationship...I don't wanna think too much about it. It's been one- almost two years since I last saw the little girl, but the memory is still strangely fresh in my mind. I guess people like that do leave an impact on you - I still remember how the boy looked...
Personal Log:
...where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it where is it...
(Extracted from an anonymous web chatlog transcript)
***User "syorty" has entered the chat.***
[syorty]: heyllo
[syorty]: ...
[syorty]: hello...
[syorty]: damnit, this month too?
[rollypolly]: hello there
[syorty]: oh hey
[rollypolly]: u should really try checking the userlist before coming in
[syorty]: yeah
[rollypolly]: moment i saw that, i knew it was gonna be like b4
[cat4fite]: yo syorty, i was checking something up
[syorty]: hey
[cat4fite]: more than half the crowd's not here as usual and that PISSES ME OFF
[brass]: hello again syorty =(
[cat4fite]: since I have a bone to pick with ol "ALBIER-THAN-THOU" mr. moderator
[um8sam]: hey sport =)
[Forkover]: hey syorty
[fel3ti3var]: good evening, syorty
[syorty]: hey
[cat4fite]: who took away my privileges for months now
[rollypolly]: you were sorta in the wrong there
[cat4fite]: o rly? like what, for slapping the metaphorical ass he's kissing so well?
[syorty]: and for things like that
[cat4fite]: hav u bozos been too busy with ur own research to listen to the news?
[cat4fite]: studying under a rock 10 meter in the ground?
[rollypolly]: get to the point, man
[brass]: here we go
[cat4fite]: BRITANNIA
[cat4fite]: HOLY
[cat4fite]: EMPIRE
[cat4fite]: OF
[cat4fite]: IS
[syorty]: combo breaker
[cat4fite]: TAKING OVER THE WORLD
[brass]: nice
[syorty] always wanted to try that
[cat4fite]: UR WELCOME TO PRACTICE UR INDIFFIRENCE U DUMB IDIOTS
[cat4fite]: WATCHING THE WORLD BURN
[um8sam]: ouch my ears
[cat4fite]: AS BRITANNIA SKULL-FUCKS EVERYONE IN THE WORLD
[cat4fite]: srsly i know its against the rules or something
[fel3ti3var]: i have to wonder, how do you type those things so fast?
[cat4fite]: but, by any chance,
[cat4fite]: ARE YOU ALL BRITANNIANS IN DISGUISE?
[syorty]: /macro noob =P
[brass]: burn
[um8sam]: back up there cat, that's confidential
[cat4fite]: OH RLY, IF NOT THEN YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY SOME OVERPAID RICH SCIENTIST DUDE
[rollypolly]: you cant call me a britannian sympathizer just because I dont respond to
your childish messages
[brass]: chilllllll
[cat4fite]: NERF BALL
[syorty]: *imagines cat drooling all over his computer, free to rant since caps lock is
ON*
[cat4fite]: NERF BALLS, ALL OF YOU
[um8sam]: i had a cat that was just like that
[syorty]: lol
[cat4fite]: LIVE A HAPPY, NERFY LIFE, SITTING ON YOUR FAT ASSES!
[um8sam]: though it wasnt really drooling...
[fel3ti3var]: *sigh* where's albi when u need him
[cat4fite]: I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW MYSELF
[syorty]: id hazard he went the way of the new guy/girl
[syorty]: disappearing for almost three years, must've been a breakthrough
[cat4fite]: WARANBDKARAELASFNSALG NSDGLNDF:KANFLA:KNFADS:FKLNASDF
[brass]: heh, did we ever find out which was which?
[rollypolly]: nope
(end extract)
Author's Note: So ends a long, long, long subphase period. Looking back on it, it took way longer than I planned it out to be, considering that I'd initially projected for the proper phases to start sometime in June. Ah, for time's whimsies... It shall take me quite some time before I start typing up the sequel, though I am pleased to say that I've already written up to Phase Four. The submission may also be delayed if ever my mood next weekend will be more focused on my other fics, whether it's submitting a new one or updating my other ones. To all you (faithful) readers, I thank you for taking the time to peruse this small work. I've temporarily lifted my personal ban on reviews, so feel free to express your thoughts - since I will also be reading the reviews (finally!) and editing in my responses to some questions right here.
Again, a sincere thanks, and if you'd like, look forward to the sequel - which will be linked in here as soon as it's up.
Edit 8/20: Gonna answer a question or two from the reviews (thanks, guys) while I encode an update to an other story:
SomebodySimplyLost: As I've stated somewhere before (I can't exactly remember where offhand), these are the prequel chapters - little stones to lay the foundation for the change in this alternate universe I'm writing for. Believe it or not, I wrote the whole concept for the prequel last, after I'd fleshed out how the Phases would flow out. It may seem weird, but I just couldn't jump straight into the action, without any explanation as to why Nunnally is piloting an unknown mech right in the middle of the Shinjuku Ghetto. Call it my wordy side. =) In addition, I was merely asking on a particular chapter about finding a crossover section in this site for the reason of uploading my other stories, especially one that has been uploaded already. So no, no crossovers here =)
2stupid: V.V.'s already been mentioned once, though he will still remain the shadowy presence for some time.
Malignant: You only matched one name correctly =) I was kind of afraid I'd make the naming thing too obvious...and some of the other usernames aren't really important plot-wise, only one other important OC in a number of OCs. And before anyone asks, yes the subphase ending notes have QUITE some significance for the rest of the story.
krytrus: Still can't see it, but it's fine, I've already decided to put it into a fairly unfrequented section as you will see on the story I've already uploaded. And about the harem thing - I'm not gonna be focusing on that too much in this story =(
Princess Sin and Anonymous: Um...I may have been a bit too vague in that particular scene in SubPhase 19...
Edit 9/11: First chapter of The Lamperouges of the Anarchy up, simply search the site or look in my profile.