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Wee Little Puppet Shelf
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[The only thing Zechs clearly understood about this place was that it wasn't his Earth, nor anywhere in the Earth Sphere.]

[Considering his status as a ghost, this suited him fine.]

[Hunched in a dark booth, because being dead for a better part of a year instilled habits in him, Zechs nursed a Scotch and attempted to relax. No-one knew his name here. What he did. The blood which soaked his hands.]

[Only he knew of his sins here.]

Current Mood: exhaustedexhausted
Isra bint'Hassan  Abdi [userpic]

[Isra's writing in the shade, leaning against a wall. Occasionally she pauses with her pen and stains her hands with ink. Mostly, the words flow easily, like too much wine in summer. Sometimes, she skritches words out harshly, muttering to herself. It can't be helped. But mostly, she hums out battles with deep sea squids in the shade.]

[ There is a blonde, short, and teenaged girl sitting in your local cafe.

Drinking a chocolate banana cherry sundae.

Well, slurping it, really.

Noisily.

Makes it rather hard for anyone else who's even trying to mind their own business to ignore her. ]

Current Mood: thirstythirsty



[ the sky is dark with clouds, though it's clear it's daytime. in the far distance, futuristic domes - like they're out of Logan's Run or something - pop up in the middle of the skyline. A very familiar skyline, were it not for the domes. ]

[ and on this street? for all intents and purposes, to anyone from twenty-first century Earth, it looks like an typical street set in a rather dreary movie in an abandoned New York city. ]

[ not quite abandoned. Far off, cars can be heard. But this part is clearly empty. Stray papers blow across the streets ]

[ the main building of interest is the ... library? in the foreground. Except the word 'library' has been removed from the concrete sign before it ... ]

Current Location: Paradigm City
Zechs Marquise [userpic]

The Antarctic was bitterly cold, even after war had torn through and desolated the Earth. Yet, in the way all deserts would be, it was relatively untouched by the ruins and terrible scarring most of the planet had fared. Few humans ever came here still, for science had taken a back seat in the theatre of exploration in favor of fields concerning warfare. It was a blind spot in the blanket the Supercomputer had thrown over humanity's eyes. It was perfect for Zechs' purposes.

After overthrowing the Alliance for Treize's OZ and Romefeller, and freeing the Sanq kingdom, Zechs had been adrift, somehow. Noin said he was without focus, especially as she observed how little had changed between the two regimes. Treize said they must move slowly. They couldn't overcome the computer's hold on people overnight. But Zechs always had his doubts, and with the appearance of the Gundams? Zechs became obsessed, perhaps dangerously so.

If it was discovered he was rebuilding the enemy's weapon here, he would be finished. A traitor to OZ and the Supercomputer alike. Yet Zechs was entirely focused on the Gundams and their pilots, and had thrown himself into rebuilding Wing with religious passion. What were the pilots like? What was their mission? What were their goals, their convictions?

Even his most trusted men, those who helped him rebuild the machine, murmured.

Current Location: Antarctica
Current Mood: obsessed
Zechs Marquise [userpic]

How long had it been since he had seen the Earth? A mix of ruin and beauty, fierce savages and the last of human civilization. Where, perhaps, he had once called his own home; where he had the vestiges of his own memories. Had the AI discovered this, he knew his very mind had been destroyed, perhaps his very identity. Yet he was spared by his friends in high places, friends who now placed him on the knife's bitter edge ...

Beneath the silver mask, Zechs scowled into the sunlit window. Treize. Knowing he owed the existence of his personality to him did not, of late, improve his opinions on the man. It only served to make him more conflicted. Where, indeed, did his loyalties lie? His commander had a gilded tongue which seemed to fool both his underlings and his superiors. Yet did he seek to free humanity from the AI once and for all? Or was he merely securing a position for himself, as a ruler of all men, a hand for the mechanized tyrant itself?

He shook himself out of such ramblings, absently brushed his hair back over his cloak. There was a supposed new aide assigned to him today. Within this small officer's suite in the JAP Point base, the boy was to be secretary and liaison for the main Alliance. Bah. He hadn't time for useless dogs scurrying for rewards from their masters.

Current Mood: annoyedannoyed
denotaros [userpic]

Ryoutarou skidded to a halt in the doorway of the hospital room just in time to see the last of the shining green light fade as the two halves of the man in the bed rejoined. The Imagin's contract holder lay stunned and gasping, and the heart monitor was going wild.

*Aaargh, crap! It already flew!*

*Ryoutarou, hurry, the nurses will be here any moment to check on him with the way that alarm is going off. As much as I'd love to stay and sink my hooks...*

*Never mind that, perverted turtle! If you don't go now I think that old bastard's gonna die!*

It was true, the man in the bed was in very poor health. He was so elderly his skin was a translucent mass of age-spotted wrinkles, and his silver hair so thin Ryoutarou could see his scalp. As he hurried to the bed and held out a blank ticket, the stranger opened shockingly blue eyes. Startled, Ryoutarou realized the man wasn't Japanese at all.

The ticket flashed and writing formed on it, showing the date of the memory the Imagin had flown to. "Do you remember anything about this... eh?" Ryoutarou broke off in the middle of his usual question, staring at the numbers on the card. 1914/08/23. "So long ago?"

"That day..." the man's voice was hardly more than a whisper, cracked and wavering, his eyes distant as he remembered. "That day, I saw the demon of Domremy. We were supposed to invade the town, but when I saw that monster flying over the church, I turned and ran. I have been running ever since, but by God's grace I had never seen another demon - until today."

*How strange. He ran away from an Imagin? But it can't be the one that just went back, that doesn't make any sense.*

*Either way, it is our duty to stop all the Imagin from rampaging!*

"We'll worry about this one first, and then check and make sure there isn't another one hanging around," Ryoutarou declared. He slipped the ticket into his Rider Pass and flipped it closed. With a roar the DenLiner sped past in the hallway, and Ryoutarou turned and threw himself back through the hospital room's door.

When he emerged he was standing in a forest of unfamiliar trees, on the edge of a valley were a small Western town was nestled. Rising above the rest of the buildings on a hill was a church - and soaring above it there was indeed a massive black winged monster, completely unlike the red-armoured crab Imagin he'd been chasing.

Speaking of which - screams sounded from nearby in the forest, and a moment later an explosion rocked the earth. More screams followed, and Ryoutarou ran towards the sound of the fight. In a clearing nearby he found the Imagin, and a troop of terrified German soldiers. Presumably one of them was the contract holder whose memory they were in.

Never mind that, now. If he didn't stop the two Imagin from rampaging, it would be a disaster. This far back in time, they could potentially do a lot more damage than just destroying a few buildings or causing some people to disappear.

Sergei Smirnov [userpic]

"Sir, the prisoner has woken up. Do you wish to interrogate him now?"

Colonel Smirnov looked up from the data pad the private had given him and nodded, hitting the button to make the holo screen turn sideways and vanish. "Take me there now, thank you," he said, getting to his feet and giving the hem of his uniform jacket a tug. Interrogating prisoners was never pleasant, and he wanted nothing so much as to get it over with. Ever since the A-Laws had been formed, the number of prisoners taken had doubled, if not tripled, and many of them were fobbed off on the regular army to process.

Which meant that most of the prisoners transferred to the base where Smirnov currently was stationed were of little value and had done nothing wrong.

This one, for example, had been arrested simply for being in the vicinity of a major battle between the three Gundams of Celestial Beings that had false GN drives, and an unknown. The boy had been badly injured with some kind of gut wound, probably by shrapnel, in the battle, and had been transferred here still in the medical pod. He'd likely have nothing of use to say.

Smirnov let the private lead him down to the prison cell and unlocked the door, stepping inside to regard the prisoner, who was handcuffed to a chair.

Underneath the golden domes, created by the crystals which towered against the sky, was the impressive fortress, estates, and holdings of the House Amaterasu and their sister House, L'Kromel. Amaterasu was one of the most powerful and influential Houses among the demons of the Underworld, so much so that they could subjugate a House like L'Kromel and combine their holdings. However, in recent years, there were murmurings that Amaterasu was losing its power. Such rumors were those their current Lord, the young Katsumi, hoped to dispel.

He was a brilliant tactician, but did not aim for the title of General. No, the young Lord was clearly aiming for a position among the Lord High Marshals. His brothers were also brilliant and talented; the second son of the late Akihiko Amateratsu had achieved already a high rank within the Dark Avenging Wind Army. Many heard of Masanori's good fortune and skills on the battlefield. Perhaps, some day, he would be general.

Yet with the grumblings given around the House, it was clear they needed allies now more than ever. There would be an emissary from a strange world, currently negotiating with the Avenging Wind Army for power and prestige, due to their subjugation by the inferior humans upon their world. The castle hold was done up brilliantly in golds and blues, colors of the House. The youngest son of Lord Akihiko was waiting with an honor guard and wearing full regalia, hoping to great the young Lord and his entourage.

Yasuhiro was a patient boy, and well-trained even at thirteen. And he knew it would be rather dangerous, for both his House and himself, if he failed in this task this afternoon. There was something else afoot in his House, he knew. He was calm, but inwardly cautious. Just what did Katsumi plan?

Current Location: the Underworld

Their incarceration had been surprisingly quick.

Despite their trepidation, when the elven soldiers had pounded upon the door of their little shack, Akira and Takumi merely stood and allowed themselves to be taken. As if they were numb to Certo's protests, though Akira's skin was nearly white with her hands shaking, and Takumi's voice was tense through all of his careful words to the soldiers. Moon Shadow vanished. Knowing of Akira's unnatural strength and Takumi's abilities to erode away nonliving matter, their bonds were made of strange, black material, which were covered with unnatural darkness. Akira only shook more when she was bound, but remained still afterward. Takumi winced.

When they approached Certo with the bonds, this is when Takumi shouted - admitting - the boy was not Cursed. An elderly elven mage confirmed it. The bindings on Certo's arms, as they were drawn up to the prison, were ordinary metal.

Though the boy doubtless had questions, no-one would answer them, including Takumi. They were taken to another part to the inner keep near the top of the hill, in the center of the elf sanctuary. Certo was lead to a rather comfortable-seeming cell. There, he was told he was only being held because he might help the war criminals escape. Inside, there was a decent bed, a simple rug covered the stone floor, and the privy and sink were clean and well-kept. There was a desk with paper and ink pens. A window gave him a view of the city, but it was small, and a mesh of metal bars ran across it.

Except to feed him - through a small flap in the door - no-one had spoken to him yesterday. It was now the second day of Certo's imprisonment.

Current Location: Ia
Current Mood: coldcold
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