In a void beyond the sight of everyday people, two separate
intelligences exchanged a heated volley of words and ideas.
"I don't like it... I don't like it at all."
"Nor I, but it's necessary."
"Necessary to lie?"
"...Yes."
"I wonder if there's anything she's found out herself after all this time."
"It's unlikely. She's been too busy trying to survive to notice."
"Except when she was with the Pirates. She was actually paying
attention to where she was and what she was doing. She had friends...
loved ones. She was happy."
"And now that she's back to merely surviving, she'll won't be able to
notice the change until it's too late."
"And we're not letting her know that because..."
"Because she cannot grow with help from others. The responsibility has
always been hers."
"And what about our responsibility to her? I do not like seeing her in
such distress... she must be told!"
"Told what, Undine? Aside from the fact she can control countless
Gears with little to no effort, she can now also do the same with
humans to a smaller degree? She fears her powers enough as it is."
"But..."
"That human, Anna, she never would have opened up, no matter how much
Dizzy would have asked. Dizzy's powers are growing and unless she
learns how to control it herself, there may be an incident and not
even that bounty hunter will be able to help us"
"...I still worry for her, Necro."
"...I know, Undine. I feel the same."
---
>From his safe-house, Prime Minister Gepetto Poret watched with
interest as he saw the airship, carrying Ky Kiske and the reorder back
to Paris. It had been quite an enlightening meeting. In fact, it gave
the Prime Minister a good idea as to the character of the hero of the
Crusades. The Shadow Hearts had little to worry.
A ring of the phone brought him out of his thoughts as he took the
receiver on his desk. If this was whom he thought it was...
He spoke into the mouthpiece calmly. "Hello, Hildegard."
Though slightly astonished, the woman in question asked, "Is Kiske gone?"
"Around half an hour ago. I was wondering when you'd call."
"I was hoping you'd be the one to call me, Matej. The others were
wondering when we can expect to move forward."
The older man reclined casually in his chair as turned to watch the
setting sun behind his red glasses. "A few more weeks. Once Kiske
makes some noise at the Bureau, they'll be in such a panic at the
thought of someone attacking them, we'll have the chance we need."
Hildegard was not as optimistic. "There is so much that can go wrong
with this plan, Matej. I know Kiske's desperate for some evidence of
the Bureau's existence, but to go so far and attack an enemy he hardly
knows is quite dangerous. We still need him."
The French Prime Minister rolled his eyes, understanding the rhetoric
behind his accomplice's words. "Yes, yes. I know. Our 'associates'
want him to be the one to turn the tide of public opinion against the
Bureau and the U.N."
To the Shadow Hearts, the U.N. was nothing more than a reincarnation
of Rome. A mighty tree that could not be toppled on the outside, but
rotted and hollowed from within, given enough time and the right type
of termites, like Kiske. Without Justice to show them their place, the
arrogance in the higher ups of the government was larger by the day in
their higher-up status; they thought themselves almost royalty. Which
inevitably led the leaders of the international councils to believe
themselves the only ones capable of passing law when they did not live
among they people they were supposed to serve. Such was the reason why
he had decided to aid the Shadow Hearts, despite the fact he was born
a member of the organization.
Hlidegard quickly added, "And speaking of our 'associates..."
Gepetto, knowing what was coming next, quickly replied, "Yes. The Gear
girl was with him." He recalled the somewhat scared look perpetually
in her eyes and shook his head in sympathy. "Poor child. Being thrown
into all this mess with little subtext."
Hildegard's tone grew morose. "At least the ignorant sleep better."
Gepetto frowned slightly. "Somehow I doubt that. People fear the
unknown greater than what they do know."
Hildegard seemed unperturbed as she continued. "So all we have to do
is let the public know about the World-State project. With a little
help from Ky, naturally. The more people that dislike it, the more
resistance they'll find."
"Are you sure people will listen to him, even after the Crusades?"
"That depends. If we can show to the people he's still the hero he was
during the Crusades, the people will side with him. A good number
still know and respect him. He's been careful about the Bureau ever
since the proto-types appeared."
Gepetto sighed, recalling the almost fanatical enthusiasm in Ky's
eyes. It was true it could be used for a good cause, but it was just
as easy for it to be twisted into something worse. "Perhaps, but
there's a part of him that still longs for the Crusades. I fear that
may take a hold of him and he won't even notice."
Hildegard's voice carried an amused undertone. "The little boy can't
let go of his blanket, eh?"
He frowned. "A crude analogy, but it works nonetheless."
Hildegard continued in a calm manner. "Don't worry. When he realizes
this isn't the Crusades, he'll wise up if he wants to survive.
Besides, I believe his taking care of the Gear girl will be good for
him."
Gepetto turned one last time to the sunset where Kiske and the Gear
were most likely over the horizon on their way to Paris. "I can only
hope you're right. I don't want to wonder what could happen if he
fails."
---
Reading between the transcripts she had typed and the one given to her
from the Prime Minister, Dizzy meticulously recounted over all the
details she had recorded. While at the same time, cross-checking the
'facts' of the official report she was to turn in once they returned
to Paris. True, she was a quick study, but Ky imagined she was no
stranger to this kind of deception and deceit amongst people he knew,
and her childish side was an obvious dead-ringer from having lived
with the Jellyfish Pirates for nearly a year.
It was not as difficult as one would think to acquire falsified
reports, identification markings, and what not for the sake of getting
into a port under U.N. jurisdiction. Johnny Sfondi was no fool and
knew how to operate under the suspicious eye of the I.P.F.
"Luveria," Ky said, looking from the window of their cabin to her.
In a surprisingly professional manner, she looked up from the report
and addressed him like a co-worker. "Yes, Mr. Kiske"
The look in his eyes was almost apologetic. "When we left the Prime
Minister's apartment, I realized something too late."
Her gaze grew melancholy, a common theme with how she always appeared.
He had seen her once after she had joined the Pirates, and recalled
how happy she had seemed. However, whatever smiles she had found with
her friends had died with the Mayship. "I think you're referring to
the attack on the factory the Bureau has, right?"
"Yes."
She nodded calmly. Then she paused for a moment, gathering the courage
to ask something of him. He had always seen that in other soldiers
during the Crusades, whenever they were to ask something that they
thought awkward. "Actually, I was wondering if you would allow me to
come."
Ky raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, Dizzy was never the kind to
act aggressively. Though she would have been a good help in laying
waste to the factory he was determined to find, the fact she was
volunteering to go was not something to be ignored. "What brought this
on?"
Dizzy's look was still the same innocent and child-like demeanor he
had always known, yet, there was something else there too. "Those
things killed my friends... but I know that destroying them won't
bring them back... but..."
Ky remained dispassionate as Dizzy struggled to continue. He was well
aware of her fondness for Johnny, May, and the other Pirates and the
loss was a vicious blow to his protectorate. He had to admit; in spite
of the fact he and Johnny were on opposing sides of the law, they had
a solid respect for each other.
He was fully aware of all the things that Johnny had done. Everyone of
the girls that served on his ship were orphaned and would have
suffered a crueler fate had they simply been tossed to the four winds,
as what the U.N had done in the past when they were unable to take
care of a world littered with countless orphans.
"But if I do nothing, then they may do the same thing to someone else.
I... I don't think I could live with myself if that were to happen."
Ky saw the resigned determination in her eyes and knew this was what
she wanted. It must not have been easy for her to ask such a thing of
him. He was torn between refusing her request out of her safety and
letting her go.
If she were to come, she could certainly create a sizable amount of
damage, given her power. However, the risk was if the Bureau had as
many eyes as Sol and the Prime Minister had said, then the hunt for
her would resume in force. And it would inevitably lead them to him.
Not to mention how to explain taking her with him to the Paris branch
of the IPF.
However, if she were to stay, he would be violating the... 'promise'
Sol had placed in him to watch over Dizzy. As desperately as he wanted
to vindicate himself, he knew where he had to keep his priorities.
Worst of all, the possibility that the Bureau would likely find her
living in his house while he was gone was high, and just as bad as
taking her with him.
Finding himself at an impasse, he sighed and looked to her. "I now
realize that I acted too hastily without thinking of how it would
affect you. So, the only thing I can do is let you make the choice.
Though I already know what your answer is going to be."
Dizzy nodded solemnly. "Thank you."
Though their discourse had been limited, Ky could tell there was
something changing in the hybrid girl. He still couldn't help but pity
her, knowing very little happiness and love in her life due to
circumstances beyond her control.
He returned to his gaze of the sun setting in the west and would have
let his mind wander over the list of possible names that could furnish
him with the information he needed.
"Um... Mr. Kiske?"
Blinking, he turned back to Dizzy as she finished with placing the
false report into her satchel and the real report on her lap.
"If... if I may, can I ask you something?"
Again, he found himself being surprised by her growing boldness. "Yes?"
She held her hand close to her chin, almost scared to bring to light
what she was thinking of. "I remember... back in your living room.
There was a picture of a younger you and a woman... was that your
mother?"
Knowing immediately what she was referring to he nodded. "Yes. She was
my foster mother, Azriel."
He also knew she wanted to continue the discourse, and despite his
reservations about divulging his past, felt compelled to do so. After
all, Dizzy had told him of her past when he had asked her. She looked
as if she wanted to ask a question but stopped. They sat in silence
for a moment, Dizzy looking back out her window, and Ky feeling the
bumps and turbulence of the air before he sighed and started speaking.
"You want to ask me something else?" he said, she looked at him
afterwards and nodded somewhat delightfully that he knew and could
tell.
"Do you remember much of her?"
He shook his head. "Not much. I was only in her care for four years
before I joined the Holy Order. All the memories I have are the ones
buried in that picture. She was often ostracized by the people of the
town I lived in for reasons that were never explained. I never learned
why, because shortly before I left for Geneva, Gears had attacked the
town. Aside from myself, there were no survivors."
Dizzy listened with definite interests as he continued, including the
heavy air about his voice as he went on. She noted, how despondent he
seemed, talking about someone he was supposed to have loved. It had
hurt him visibly and he was simply holding all the pain inside for
someone else's sake. What she found odd, though, was how calmly he
spoke about her.
Whenever she thought of her father and mother, she felt a warmth that
made the pain a bit more bearable. Her father and mother were still
waiting for her... and she would return to them. If there was anything
she truly wanted, she would have brought her parents out of Porvoo-3
and either have them work with Johnny to keep him in line or help the
other orphans that Johnny had taken in.
She was brought out of her memories as she looked back to Ky. One
didn't need to be psychic to see that he was in turmoil with bringing
the memories back up.
He looked to the ground as he struggled to find the words he wanted to
say. "She was very kind... but for a reason I could never tell, she
was always... sad. It was like... I..."
With every passing moment, he found his will to disclose his past
weakening. It was like old scars being ripped open on his heart as he
finally laid back and muttered, feeling ashamed to look at her. "I'm
sorry... I can't say anymore..."
She nodded in understanding, though slightly disappointed to know how
closed up her guardian was.
"Please, don't misunderstand me. It was nothing you did... it's
just..." he looked back to her, his face as morose as the clouds
gathering in the sky around their ship"...when you spoke about
Iliya... your face lit up in such a way that... you could go back to
it over and over if you so wished. I would be lying if I said that I
wasn't just a bit jealous of what you had."
Dizzy, sensing the hurt in his tone turned from him to the window. She
could feel the slight tint of bitterness, but knew it wasn't directed
at her. Only the precious memories he evidently never knew. The clouds
darkened the cabin and her mood as well. The heaviness Ky felt was
something she was all too aware of.
Was this how the world of humans truly was? A world starved for
affection that held none, leaving it full of those just as angered and
bitter as those that had gone on before them?
She hoped not.
---
The trip had taken a bigger toll then either one had expected. It was
already nightfall and a gentle breeze was blowing through the streets
as they marched wearily into Ky's house. The both placed their
respective gear against the wall of the main room as he flipped on the
switch to turn the lights on.
"'Bout time you got back" an unmistakable voice grumbled from the
chair at Ky's desk.
Ky's senses flared to life and whirled around to see the smirking Sol,
reclining casually against the desk with a cigarette in his mouth and
the lazy purple smoke sitting in a cloud above his head.
Even Dizzy was surprised, not being able to hear him when they had
arrived. On instinct she moved against the wall out of fear of Sol's
power and imposing self. He hadn't need to move or say anything, but
looking at her made her fearful to her very bones and sent a shiver
down her spine, it's how Sol was.
"Sol! What are you doing here?" Ky asked incredulously, reaching for
his sword. He would have drawn it had Sol's foot not landed on the
handle, keeping it sheathed.
"Keep yer damn head on, boy. I'm just passing through," he said with
his usual cocky attitude. The bounty hunter reached into a back pocket
and casually tossed Ky what looked like two small and frayed books.
Ky caught the small book, roughly no larger than a leaflet he had seen
before he had joined the Holy Order. Looking over the cover, the paper
that it once had was worn to the point where the title was long since
gone.
"What's this?" Ky asked, trying to keep his mind focused on the
subject at hand, rather than simply telling Sol to be gone.
Sol frowned at him. "Didn't Hildegard tell you? Damn. Does everyone
need to hold your hand or something, boy?"
"Hildegard..." Ky muttered, then recalled the phone call from the
mysterious person who went by said name. Ky stepped back in
astonishment upon knowing that the woman on the other line had told
him the truth. His grudge with Sol forgotten, he looked over the book
in his hands and then back to Sol.
"These are the 'old stories' you told me about?"
The bounty hunter nodded before stepping past him and walking to the
door, but not without stopping by Dizzy and giving her a look that
would have counted as an odd and twisted version of what would pass as
concern.
"Is this why the Jellyfish pirates are dead? Over some old books?!" Ky
asked in shock and anger. Though, by all rights an enemy to Johnny, he
still found it wrong that he was hunted just because he had some old
books in his possession.
With his hand on the door, Sol grunted what would pass for a 'yes'.
"But it's more than that, kid. You got a brain, use it. Damn
everyone's a friggin' saint lately and wants all the answers, no one
wants to figure anything out�"
Ky was about to follow him when Sol had already slammed the door shut
behind him, mumbling some more curses and insults at Ky. By the time
Kiske had dashed out the front door, Sol was nowhere to be found. With
an angered scowl, he stomped back into the house and slammed it shut.
It was the same old story. Whenever he saw Sol, all that became
important was making the bounty hunter respect him as a fighter
instead of looking at him like a liability or a child.
Upon seeing Dizzy's worried face, he realized that he was not in
control of himself as much as he would have liked to say. With a slump
of his shoulders, Ky muttered to her, "I'm sorry... every time I see
him, I tell myself I won't lose control... but I do."
Sitting on the floor with a questioning gaze, she replied calmly,
"It's one thing to admit having flaws, it's another to do something
about them... or so my dad said."
Looking down to her, he couldn't help but nod. Knowing the kind of man
Iliya was, he silently thanked the older soldier for being the kind of
man he was.
"What are the books?"
Turning through the pages, he pulled covers over and saw the titles
written on the inside pages.
"'1984' by George Orwell and 'The Prince' by Niccolo Machiavelli."
Tentatively, Dizzy stood up and asked, "...may I see those?"
Feeling frustrated with the lack of news and what not, he conceded and
handed her the books.
Once they where in her hands, she took a seat by the couch and opened
one of them carefully, being more considerate of the value of these
articles than he did. Within minutes, the Gear was hopelessly mired in
the books that must have been at least a century old and out of print.
It then occurred to Ky there were not a lot of books being published
nowadays. Most of the depositories of books where in libraries spared
from the Crusades were under tight UN control. The public were
unofficially banned from all libraries until a new system of book
creation that didn't use Black Tech was implemented. That was a year
after the Crusades ended.
Nowadays, only those that had enough money were the only ones with
hopes of getting into any sort of school. Most people simply learned
how to work by learning their trade as an apprentice. There was
little, if any, schooling required.
When a few frightening ideas came to mind, he knew he had to start
asking around in his set of contacts. As per the French Prime
Minister's words; these people were not the most savory set of
people... to the UN at any rate.
Taking a seat by his desk, he picked up his phone and dialed a set of
numbers that, by all rights, should not have existed in the directory
of any U.N. controlled country.
Patiently, he waited for an answer as the dial tone continued to beep
repeatedly for more than a minute. A set of clicks began to replace
the tones and eventually another voice with a distinct Russian accent
appeared on the other side of the line.
"Hello?" a baritone voice answered cordially.
He placed his hand over the lower half of his phone to keep the noise
to a minimum.
"My I speak with Mr. Denisavich?"
"May I tell him who's calling, sir?"
"Mr. K. He'll know whom this is."
"Just a moment, sir. I'll connect you."
It was times like this he was grateful to God that the invention of
the phone had been implemented. Not only was it vital in keeping
communication lines between groups of the Holy Order open, but it keep
the world from falling into a darkness that he preferred not to think
about.
It wasn't long before another voice with an accent similar to the
operator answered the phone, only it was much deeper. Almost
artificial, considering that not even bass voices reached as low as
the rumble of the person on the other line. "It's been a while,
comrade."
"Yes, it has. How's the president faring these days?"
"Not too well. We've been experiencing some difficulty in the past
couple of months."
Ky ventured a guess. "They wouldn't happen to do with a bunch of
robots that bear a passing resemblance to me, would they"
"You would assume correct. You as well?"
"The Prime Ministers of the Second E.U., myself, and several others
down here have also met these things."
"So, it seems we have a common enemy."
"That we do, and I was hoping there would be some information on your
end that would help us."
"Oh?"
"Despite Zepp having more technology than anywhere else, I doubt that
it could come from there. The robots seem... clunky, almost put
together like patchwork. From my experience. Zepp is much more
efficient with their machines than this, and if they wanted somebody
dead, they'd have one of your brothers do it."
"I'm inclined to agree. Though there may be parties up here that are
supplying their creators with the supplies, materials, and what not.
Those that are in charge of putting them together have much to learn
about creating machines."
"So, I'm going to make sure no more of those things aren't made
anymore. The only problem is I don't know where they're being made.
Not to mention there may be more than a few of those places."
"Hmm, it would be prudent to assume our enemy has a back-up plan
should something happen. I will speak with the president tomorrow. If
all goes well, I should be getting back to you in seventy-two hours
from now."
"And if not?"
"I will take an airship and deliver what I have learned to you
directly. Gabriel is not so foolish to deny assistance to a proven
ally."
"You have my thanks, Potemkin."
"Be safe until then, comrade."
Ky hung up the phone and leaned against his hands with his fingers intertwined.
Zepp and the U.N. controlled countries had always been at odds, even
during the Crusades. There had been many that believed that if Zepp
and the Holy Order had combined their numbers, magical know-how, and
understanding of machines, the Crusades would have ended decades ago.
However, the U.N. made it abundantly clear they would not have any
sort of dealings with Zepp.
It was like Zepp was a proverbial colony of lepers. No one was to go
there or else face disciplinary action by the Intercontinental Court.
Even then, considering Zepp was a floating continent, still flying
after all these years, just finding it was difficult enough. One had
to had connections to pilots that knew the flying patterns of the
metal continent.
Ky had at one time brought up the concept of opening relations with
Zepp to the heads of the UN, only to have it brushed aside like dust.
When A-Country announced its alliance to Zepp, it only made the
prospect all the more impossible. The UN had made its decision; Zepp
was to be shunned at all costs. The reasons were most likely lost
during the Crusades and simply accepted as law.
When he last heard, A-Country was offering sanctuary to those wishing
to go to Zepp. Ever since they had pulled out of the U.N. due to
accusations of being controlled by the U.N. Council via assassins, the
European Union found little reason for trade and discourse with the
barren country Europe once pined over several centuries back.
Looking back over his shoulder to the still reading Dizzy, he felt
nothing more could be done until tomorrow. So, standing up, he walked
to the kitchen and started a kettle of sunflower tea he had been
meaning to have for a while. It was an A-Country flavor that he grown
fond of in his travels across the world.
It slightly galled him to think that his only real source of the tea
packets were only available through the bodyguard of the president of
A-Country. A foul mouthed American that claimed to be Japanese. A
former drug runner by the name of Chipp Zanuff. With little to no
respect for authority, he wondered how the 'rehabilitated' addict was
able to curry the favor of the president and become her bodyguard. He
assumed it wasn't a formal job, that he was just friends and had at
one time or another defended her, and he picked up that name of
bodyguard.
He found himself deep into his musing to the point where he almost
missed the high pitched whine of the kettle. Turning off the
electrical stove, he pulled out a pair of drinking cups and poured one
for himself. He was in the middle of pouring the second cup when he
realized what he had been doing.
He turned back to the living room, where the Gear in his care looked
more interested in the books in her hands than her present
surroundings.
Did she even need nourishment the way humans did? All Gears needed
were the magic to sustain their noticeably limited lifespan. Yet
again, the little detail that Dizzy was an exception reared its ugly
head once more. He was starting to grow frustrated with how vague
everything was starting to become. It was always simple and easy to
know that you have to kill Gears and killing was easy, but
understanding, living, knowing a Gear was a little more�difficult.
He was well aware that the world was not in black or white, however,
if there was too many shades of gray, then there'd be no distinction
between virtue and vice. Right was right and wrong was wrong. That's
all there was to it.
Still struggling with what to do, he simply filled the rest of the
second cup, before placing it on the small circular plate and putting
them on the stand near where she sat. He hoped his movements were
silent enough not to disturb her reading. He said nothing, not
noticing Dizzy pulled her gaze from the book to him.
She looked to the still steaming cup and then to the kitchen.
Cautiously, she reached up and felt the warmth of the liquid within.
Slowly curling her index finger around the handle, she made sure to
carry the Coalport teacup with extra care as she carefully sipped its
contents, making sure to do take in too much, lest it burn her tongue.
She muttered a silent thank you to him, though he wouldn't hear it.
There was an unusual taste in the tea. It wasn't something she could
place a name to considering her limited palette. As pleasant as the
drink was, there was something... somehow that gave it a somewhat sour
aftertaste. She had heard somewhere that sometimes the emotion of the
creator sometimes seeped into their work.
She may have been wrong, but she felt that the tea's taste was
somewhat marred by the reluctant kindness inside the tea. Regardless,
she slowly finished the cup and placed it back on the plate to resume
her reading. though, once again, her spirits were dampened by the
almost... callous manner her guardian treated her with.
---
With the communication lines closed, Potemkin placed the palette of
paints on the ground of his humble studio and began to consider a few
questions he could ask the president of possible explanations. If
Kiske's enemy was his enemy as well, there would most likely be
problems, for the Republic of Zepp was not as unified as the people on
the ground thought.
The Machina Faction, along with their cousins, the League of Industry,
were stirring up trouble more and more with every passing month.
Though their actions never resulted in violence, Potemkin was
beginning to wonder just how timely all their demonstrations against
the current governing republic were. If Kiske was correct about the
abduction attempts, then it looked like the Bureau's plans were being
set into motion, but if people as important as the Prime Ministers
were evading capture, their situation could be a bit more desperate
than Kiske was aware of.
Putting that thought off to the side, he returned his attention to the
painting he had been struggling with ever since he was freed from his
bonds. He was more than capable of doing practically anything. He
could paint a sunset or a sunrise with more than enough time to spare
to capture the moment. Duplicate the image of a person and make it
just as lifelike as though someone had taken a photo. To him, painting
was a way to relax and express himself, and he had enough demons in
his past to try and lock them away at any chance he got.
Yet, the piece in front of him had not only been painted and repainted
several times over, with slight signs of the previous idea working
itself in the color. His first painting was the remains of the
skyscraper that had once been the headquarters of the empire. Then, he
had changed into a mist-covered glade in the first moments of
sunlight. Then, it became a woman with azure blue hair in a toga from
a long lost era.
He cocked an eyebrow, remembering that the woman had been the
Half-Gear hybrid he was to subdue and capture. He, did, however, not
regret leaving her to the care of the one called Johnny Sfondi.
He had spoken to the Gear girl, for a reason beyond him, and
remembered she was named Dizzy. He could tell she had the ability of a
Commander Gear, however, the fact she had a desire to do no harm to
those around her made her quite a different thing in his eyes. She was
an anomaly with the power of the Gears, yet with the heart of gold
often found in children.
What surprised him most was when she asked if she could be his friend.
She was often alone and even the sub-Commander Gear was of little
comfort to her, he assumed, and contact was never passed up. No one
had ever asked him such a thing.
As far as he could remember, he was just another monstrosity, created
on an assembly line to be tossed away when his use came to an end. The
thought of having a friend was almost foreign to him. Regardless, he
had accepted, knowing what could come of that. His only friend before
that was Gabriel, and that friendship was more of a united-cause type
of friendship.
That conversation and her smile became a treasured memory to him. He
knew the chances of seeing his... 'friend' again were slight, but he
would wait, nonetheless.
He closed his white and pupil-less eyes in remembrance of her request
to be left in peace. He honored her wishes and though the President
reprimanded him, Gabriel soon understood his reasoning. The giant had
even gone so far as to ask that she be left alone, despite the boon
she could have brought to Zepp.
It was one of those rare times the President had given him a smile and
was patted his shoulder, saying how grateful he was that Potemkin was
not a politician. It was honoring to hear that.
"Excuse me, sir," an attendant said, stepping into his humble studio.
"Yes?" the giant soldier replied casually as he placed his brush on
the palette once again.
"I brought the paints you had requested, sir," the petit unformed
woman said, placing the tray on one of the seats near him.
"My thanks. Oh, and one more thing," he rumbled, getting to his feet.
"Yes, sir?" she said casually.
Without warning, Potemkin's massive fists slammed into the torso of
the woman, sending her sailing into the wall. The instant she hit, her
limbs fell apart with several bolts of electricity. Metal nuts, bolts,
and wire fell into a messy heap on the floor.
Drawing his gargantuan fists back, he grumbled to the intact head of
the robot, hoping that its masters were watching. "You will pay dearly
for underestimating Zepp."
He had known that this robot, set up to look exactly like one of the
attendants to the higher ranking soldiers, was watching him for a
while. He had his suspicions ever since he took on and crushed a small
horde of those robotic versions of Kiske. Being careful to make sure
they weren't aware, he continued going about his business, making sure
that any information the robot acquired was false.
With every step, the multiple paintings shook and a few threatened to
fall from the wall. The remains of the robots head looked to the giant
as its foot drew upward like a guillotine.
"As far as I'm concerned... this is an act of war!"
The head of the robot was crushed beneath half a ton of muscle.
Leaving nothing to salvage should anyone try to clean it up.
End of Chapter 5
Notes:
The name Matej, is derived from the name Matej Kopecky, one of the
oldest and well known puppeteers.
All things GG belongs to Sammy, and Daisuke Ishiwatari.