Sado, Japan Saturday, July 13th 2010
Changing Seasons
“And that’s that class. I guess I won’t see you all for a whole month, you all be safe now, and make sure to study your—“
The sound of a bell resounded through the halls of two floor, wooden school building. It was now seventh period—The final class before the students of Sado Middle were free for an entire month, the last class they had to sit through before summer break.
The old man sucked his teeth and smiled regretfully, looks like he wouldn’t be able to finish his sermon. With a sheepish grin he bent over his desk to grab his books, waving at the seated children as he made his way for the sliding doors. Most returned the old man’s wave, he wasn’t such a bad guy—at least he genuinely cared for them. There was one boy in particular who didn’t move an inch as the fellow made his reluctant exit. Instead, he was more fixated on the different scenes outside. They were on the second floor, and the way the classroom was positioned, right on the front wall of the school, a student with a window seat (such as he) could easily get lost in the hubbub going on below. –Not that little Sado had much going on anyway.
Normally, the last class before summer break tended to be a joke. Sit around, watch a movie and laugh with some friends. This boy, unlike his peers, was set on staring right outside of the window, watching as this spotted Dalmatian left its mark on a red fire hydrant that was conveniently placed inconspicuously, and not at all close to his direct field of vision. This boy had been fascinated by the ritual in which the puppy proceeded to relieve himself. First, it sniffed the red monument, developing a trust with it. Second, it circled the object, checking it for defects. Lastly, it stopped, right at the spot from which it began its circling around the thing in the first place; and finally…it let itself go.
Despite this enthralling saga unfolding before him, the student was pulled away from it by the unanimous silence among his classmates. The violet eyed, mocha skinned middle-schooler turned his head away from the window, and towards the front of the room, where all of the other student’s attention was also directed. It was then that he realized what they were all so startled about: it was a substitute.
The man was as tall as he was frightening looking, at least by the boy’s standards. He was built like a hero of myth, tall and muscular with dark skin, and a body covered by beige colored tattoos. The substitute’s hair was cut into a buzz, with platinum blonde hair, giant sideburns, and a goatee for facial hair. His eyes were an icy blue, and he dressed neatly in a dress-shirt [rolled up sleeves] and black vest, with matching slacks. He looked like he was about to rip out of the undershirt however.
With extreme prejudice the boy flipped his hood halfway over his head, just enough so that it covered the back end of his head, up to just past his ears, and not too much so that his bangs couldn’t flow freely [he liked it that way, especially when he felt threatened].
The newcomer gripped a single sheet of paper, looking over the article closely, he began to rifle off names of those in the class.
“Seto?” The students stared blankly at the giant of a man as read their names, his voice shaking the whole time. One by one, the students raised their hands to identify their presence. Finally, the man came to the name of our particular child. “Murakami?” He looked around frantically for the student’s hand, only to see nothing there. So with a shrug, he continued on, “Mochi—“
“He’s back there!” One of the girls pointed, prompting everyone in the class to turn their bodies towards the back of the class, directly in front the menu. Lo and behold, there was the boy, hood on his head, violet orbs staring dully into the distance, to his dismay, the dog was long gone, leaving only a dark puddle around the object of its previous obsession.
“Oh, there you are. Taaa-ro,” The man chuckled at his difficulty in pronouncing the name, however his amusement was not shared. “Well then, that’s everyone. So, let’s get on to the lesson today. Your teacher Ms. Satonaka left me a movie for you all to watch, but you all wouldn’t be interested in that, now would you?” A mumble traveled through the classroom. Just who was this guy? “Instead, I’m going to tell you all a story my parents passed down to me,” He grinned, “The story of the Goddess—by the way, you can call me Mr. Villiers.” ‘Mr. Villiers’ quickly turned around to the board, writing his name in some type of illegible chicken scratch of symbols.
Taro had heard a decent amount of the story of the Goddess, his caretaker Elizabeth had told him about it briefly when she mentioned her travels to Saturn. This fellow, Villiers, appeared to have held some serious respect for the Goddess as his eyes lit up with excitement as he relayed the story to the children, who were all devoid of any and all interest.
The Goddess
The Goddess is the source of all life and aspects of the galaxy, from the planets, to the air, to the rushing waters and the suns. The Goddess was the only thing in the galaxy, and from the sorrow of loneliness created the stars from her tears and the planets and people from her blood. Back then, everyone was a Genetic, and they all followed the Goddess. However, there was group of life forms that sought out to gain even more power, by killing the Goddess and being their own rulers.
That group, known now as the Humans cut down the Goddess. Their—our selfish deeds served to ignite a Galaxy wide war. Out numbered, the humans lost the battle and were banished to the far reaches of the Galaxy.
It is said, that before the Goddess passed on, she left us with this final message:
She warned of a time when the people had to repent for their bloodthirsty, selfish acts. A time when 'The Great Star' would fall, and all life in the Galaxy would be taken down in its wake. We don't know what the Great Star is, or when it is supposed to fall, but the Goddess said that her true descendants will be able to feel her cries as the time neared.
Changing Seasons
As Villiers finished his story, he leaned up against the wall, letting out a dreamy sigh as he did so. The man was so overcome with his recent flight on cloud nine that he failed to realize the trail of chalk on his back from this endeavor.
“So kids any questi—“
At that moment, the bell rang, dismissing the students to officially bask in their summer. A wave of joyous excitement rushed through the student body [in every room, all at once] and the halls erupted with chats about what to partake in over the summertime. As usual though, Taro was the last of the kids to leave out, but as he made his way for the door the odd Mr. Villiers called out to him.
“It’s Taro right? Murakami? You wouldn’t happen to know someone by the name of Elizabeth Gains do you?” The man’s shaky demeanor melted away, and his air immediately became much more calculating. The hooded boy turned slowly to the man with and with a sour look on his face nodded. “You don’t say…you reckon she’s in this town now? Or…” Taro watched Villiers blankly as he stroked his facial hair carefully.
“Y-yeah. Why?” Taro gulped, a bit put off by the man’s somewhat erratic behavior.
“Oh, no reason,” He grinned wide and chuckled, “Carry on then. Enjoy your summer Taro-kun!” The man even went so far as to put an honorific to his name. Taro did not like him. Should this man ever be his substitute teacher again…which he hoped he wouldn’t, Taro was sure to have an unpleasant experience. With a final wary gaze at the giant substitute, Taro exited the room, and quickly made his way out of the building—ready to head home.
“I wonder where that dog went…”
* * *
July 14th, 2010 – New York, New York – Time Square 11:00 P.M.
TANK!
He went this way!
Down this alleyway, hurry!
I see him!
A torrent of shots echoed down the three-way alley. The trio of soldiers all gritted their teeth in disappointment as they quickly realized their attacks hit no type of target. These weren’t ordinary, every day G.C. soldiers either, they weren’t just the regular, everyday ones dispatched to watch over the town, these were full blown-PiNG equipped soldiers, decked out in armor (albeit light) and helmets with flashlights turned on high to see in the dense of the night.
Not only did they have to contend with the darkness, which the target seemed to blend in with oh so well (even with his different clothing habit), they also had to discriminate their shots from the seemingly endless droves of citizens that clustered through the city streets [even in the alleys sometimes]. It was one hell of a job for these foot soldiers to partake in.
Which way do we go from here sir?
We’ll split up; he has to be down one of these streets!
Aye! Let’s move! We’ll catch the Genetic and bring him to the Brigadier General in time to get ready for the festival!
Hoorah!
The men all saluted to their invisible superior officer, and took off down their respective paths.
Meanwhile, a certain fellow stood above, on the rooftops, watching the scene with a devilish grin. As soon as he read that the close was clear, he let his feet dangle over the edge, letting himself lean back across the cool steel surface.
“That reminds me, I need to find a way to that island.” He twisted the green piercing in his left ear, attempting to come up with a plan. It wasn’t like he could simply hop onto one of the freights headed there [Many common folk in more of the major towns were being granted passage to the island, they couldn’t come inside, however they could partake in games outside], he had been branded long ago. The man lifted his left arm into the view of his hazel orbs, staring with contempt at the barcode brand on his wrist.
Any sight of the Genetic?
No, sir, perhaps he’s already long gone?
There’s still the scanner we could use, it detects the branded ones within a 100 mile—ack!
The soldier let out a muffled scream as his now limp body fell to the ground below. Crimson liquid seeping out from under his chest armor, he twitched involuntarily as the life quickly exited his person.
“Henderson, you—gah!”
In no time, a thin framed, well-dressed individual was hovering in front of one of the soldiers, he fumbled for his rifle, but to no avail, as the attacker was too quick. The man in the red glasses slipped out his tongue, and a green orb gathered around the tip.
There was flash, and what was left of the man was little than a heap of gray ash.
“You monster! Damn Genetic I’ll—“
“Relax! I just wanted some alone time, I think you and I could work out an interesting agreement…you see, my name’s not on the guest list for that little shindig…”
* * *
July 15th, 2010 – Gaea – Ballroom 4:37 P.M.
Space Cowboys
Everything from the gold adorned floors the wood of the island’s boardwalk was glistening. The men and women of the Global Conglomerate were having one hell of a time making sure things were in order. Food had to be made, booths had to be sturdy, checkpoints had to be secured, docks had to be monitored, and all ‘classified’ documents had to be safely tucked away. It was a military base after all, but when the boys and girls of the GC came together it looked more like a resort.
Each and every General of each and every branch was in attendance, not to mention a number of the branch Presidents. No expense, whether it be in defense or aesthetics, was spared today. After all; today was The Festival of First Contact! The fiftieth anniversary of humanity’s first encounter with alien life. The space-ports were prepped for the extreme influx of alien and interplanetary visitors, as were the island it self’s docks.
A special ‘party-planning’ committee was put together for this occasion alone. Headed by General Xavier Wallace of the American Branch and his men. The group’s job was to take care of defenses, planning, and over-all operation of the event. Officially, Wallace’s Branch was chosen as the head because it acted as a ‘Beacon of Light’ for the Conglomerate. Really though, they were selected because the American Branch held some of the toughest mothers the planet had ever seen.
Soldiers from all over were specially selected by their superiors to make up Wallace’s crack team. For the first time the branches mixed their soldiers to create a universal unit. This was seen by some as an experiment for future operations.
Regardless. General Wallace was working any and every soldier under his command to the bone. For some, it was a considerable change to grow accustomed too, but for one soldier in particular, this was what he had been used to for years.
That soldier was Colonel Demetri Maverick.
With a Rolling 7’s Cigarette in his mouth, the soldier kicked his feet up on a single wooden crate. He was hidden amongst a number of crates that had just arrived to the Main Complex [which held the ballroom where the main party was to be held]. Golden headphones fastened tightly over his dome, he drowned out any and everything happening around him. He was dressed in a tight white V-neck and khaki’s, non-regulation of course. Thankfully, uniform wasn’t required for the simple task all Soldiers on deck were given. That task was tend to ANY unfinished preparations.
The party was set to begin at eight sharp, and the GC boys and gals had a lot to do before then…
Changing Seasons
“And that’s that class. I guess I won’t see you all for a whole month, you all be safe now, and make sure to study your—“
The sound of a bell resounded through the halls of two floor, wooden school building. It was now seventh period—The final class before the students of Sado Middle were free for an entire month, the last class they had to sit through before summer break.
The old man sucked his teeth and smiled regretfully, looks like he wouldn’t be able to finish his sermon. With a sheepish grin he bent over his desk to grab his books, waving at the seated children as he made his way for the sliding doors. Most returned the old man’s wave, he wasn’t such a bad guy—at least he genuinely cared for them. There was one boy in particular who didn’t move an inch as the fellow made his reluctant exit. Instead, he was more fixated on the different scenes outside. They were on the second floor, and the way the classroom was positioned, right on the front wall of the school, a student with a window seat (such as he) could easily get lost in the hubbub going on below. –Not that little Sado had much going on anyway.
Normally, the last class before summer break tended to be a joke. Sit around, watch a movie and laugh with some friends. This boy, unlike his peers, was set on staring right outside of the window, watching as this spotted Dalmatian left its mark on a red fire hydrant that was conveniently placed inconspicuously, and not at all close to his direct field of vision. This boy had been fascinated by the ritual in which the puppy proceeded to relieve himself. First, it sniffed the red monument, developing a trust with it. Second, it circled the object, checking it for defects. Lastly, it stopped, right at the spot from which it began its circling around the thing in the first place; and finally…it let itself go.
Despite this enthralling saga unfolding before him, the student was pulled away from it by the unanimous silence among his classmates. The violet eyed, mocha skinned middle-schooler turned his head away from the window, and towards the front of the room, where all of the other student’s attention was also directed. It was then that he realized what they were all so startled about: it was a substitute.
The man was as tall as he was frightening looking, at least by the boy’s standards. He was built like a hero of myth, tall and muscular with dark skin, and a body covered by beige colored tattoos. The substitute’s hair was cut into a buzz, with platinum blonde hair, giant sideburns, and a goatee for facial hair. His eyes were an icy blue, and he dressed neatly in a dress-shirt [rolled up sleeves] and black vest, with matching slacks. He looked like he was about to rip out of the undershirt however.
With extreme prejudice the boy flipped his hood halfway over his head, just enough so that it covered the back end of his head, up to just past his ears, and not too much so that his bangs couldn’t flow freely [he liked it that way, especially when he felt threatened].
The newcomer gripped a single sheet of paper, looking over the article closely, he began to rifle off names of those in the class.
“Seto?” The students stared blankly at the giant of a man as read their names, his voice shaking the whole time. One by one, the students raised their hands to identify their presence. Finally, the man came to the name of our particular child. “Murakami?” He looked around frantically for the student’s hand, only to see nothing there. So with a shrug, he continued on, “Mochi—“
“He’s back there!” One of the girls pointed, prompting everyone in the class to turn their bodies towards the back of the class, directly in front the menu. Lo and behold, there was the boy, hood on his head, violet orbs staring dully into the distance, to his dismay, the dog was long gone, leaving only a dark puddle around the object of its previous obsession.
“Oh, there you are. Taaa-ro,” The man chuckled at his difficulty in pronouncing the name, however his amusement was not shared. “Well then, that’s everyone. So, let’s get on to the lesson today. Your teacher Ms. Satonaka left me a movie for you all to watch, but you all wouldn’t be interested in that, now would you?” A mumble traveled through the classroom. Just who was this guy? “Instead, I’m going to tell you all a story my parents passed down to me,” He grinned, “The story of the Goddess—by the way, you can call me Mr. Villiers.” ‘Mr. Villiers’ quickly turned around to the board, writing his name in some type of illegible chicken scratch of symbols.
Taro had heard a decent amount of the story of the Goddess, his caretaker Elizabeth had told him about it briefly when she mentioned her travels to Saturn. This fellow, Villiers, appeared to have held some serious respect for the Goddess as his eyes lit up with excitement as he relayed the story to the children, who were all devoid of any and all interest.
The Goddess
The Goddess is the source of all life and aspects of the galaxy, from the planets, to the air, to the rushing waters and the suns. The Goddess was the only thing in the galaxy, and from the sorrow of loneliness created the stars from her tears and the planets and people from her blood. Back then, everyone was a Genetic, and they all followed the Goddess. However, there was group of life forms that sought out to gain even more power, by killing the Goddess and being their own rulers.
That group, known now as the Humans cut down the Goddess. Their—our selfish deeds served to ignite a Galaxy wide war. Out numbered, the humans lost the battle and were banished to the far reaches of the Galaxy.
It is said, that before the Goddess passed on, she left us with this final message:
She warned of a time when the people had to repent for their bloodthirsty, selfish acts. A time when 'The Great Star' would fall, and all life in the Galaxy would be taken down in its wake. We don't know what the Great Star is, or when it is supposed to fall, but the Goddess said that her true descendants will be able to feel her cries as the time neared.
Changing Seasons
As Villiers finished his story, he leaned up against the wall, letting out a dreamy sigh as he did so. The man was so overcome with his recent flight on cloud nine that he failed to realize the trail of chalk on his back from this endeavor.
“So kids any questi—“
At that moment, the bell rang, dismissing the students to officially bask in their summer. A wave of joyous excitement rushed through the student body [in every room, all at once] and the halls erupted with chats about what to partake in over the summertime. As usual though, Taro was the last of the kids to leave out, but as he made his way for the door the odd Mr. Villiers called out to him.
“It’s Taro right? Murakami? You wouldn’t happen to know someone by the name of Elizabeth Gains do you?” The man’s shaky demeanor melted away, and his air immediately became much more calculating. The hooded boy turned slowly to the man with and with a sour look on his face nodded. “You don’t say…you reckon she’s in this town now? Or…” Taro watched Villiers blankly as he stroked his facial hair carefully.
“Y-yeah. Why?” Taro gulped, a bit put off by the man’s somewhat erratic behavior.
“Oh, no reason,” He grinned wide and chuckled, “Carry on then. Enjoy your summer Taro-kun!” The man even went so far as to put an honorific to his name. Taro did not like him. Should this man ever be his substitute teacher again…which he hoped he wouldn’t, Taro was sure to have an unpleasant experience. With a final wary gaze at the giant substitute, Taro exited the room, and quickly made his way out of the building—ready to head home.
“I wonder where that dog went…”
* * *
July 14th, 2010 – New York, New York – Time Square 11:00 P.M.
TANK!
He went this way!
Down this alleyway, hurry!
I see him!
A torrent of shots echoed down the three-way alley. The trio of soldiers all gritted their teeth in disappointment as they quickly realized their attacks hit no type of target. These weren’t ordinary, every day G.C. soldiers either, they weren’t just the regular, everyday ones dispatched to watch over the town, these were full blown-PiNG equipped soldiers, decked out in armor (albeit light) and helmets with flashlights turned on high to see in the dense of the night.
Not only did they have to contend with the darkness, which the target seemed to blend in with oh so well (even with his different clothing habit), they also had to discriminate their shots from the seemingly endless droves of citizens that clustered through the city streets [even in the alleys sometimes]. It was one hell of a job for these foot soldiers to partake in.
Which way do we go from here sir?
We’ll split up; he has to be down one of these streets!
Aye! Let’s move! We’ll catch the Genetic and bring him to the Brigadier General in time to get ready for the festival!
Hoorah!
The men all saluted to their invisible superior officer, and took off down their respective paths.
Meanwhile, a certain fellow stood above, on the rooftops, watching the scene with a devilish grin. As soon as he read that the close was clear, he let his feet dangle over the edge, letting himself lean back across the cool steel surface.
“That reminds me, I need to find a way to that island.” He twisted the green piercing in his left ear, attempting to come up with a plan. It wasn’t like he could simply hop onto one of the freights headed there [Many common folk in more of the major towns were being granted passage to the island, they couldn’t come inside, however they could partake in games outside], he had been branded long ago. The man lifted his left arm into the view of his hazel orbs, staring with contempt at the barcode brand on his wrist.
Any sight of the Genetic?
No, sir, perhaps he’s already long gone?
There’s still the scanner we could use, it detects the branded ones within a 100 mile—ack!
The soldier let out a muffled scream as his now limp body fell to the ground below. Crimson liquid seeping out from under his chest armor, he twitched involuntarily as the life quickly exited his person.
“Henderson, you—gah!”
In no time, a thin framed, well-dressed individual was hovering in front of one of the soldiers, he fumbled for his rifle, but to no avail, as the attacker was too quick. The man in the red glasses slipped out his tongue, and a green orb gathered around the tip.
There was flash, and what was left of the man was little than a heap of gray ash.
“You monster! Damn Genetic I’ll—“
“Relax! I just wanted some alone time, I think you and I could work out an interesting agreement…you see, my name’s not on the guest list for that little shindig…”
* * *
July 15th, 2010 – Gaea – Ballroom 4:37 P.M.
Space Cowboys
Everything from the gold adorned floors the wood of the island’s boardwalk was glistening. The men and women of the Global Conglomerate were having one hell of a time making sure things were in order. Food had to be made, booths had to be sturdy, checkpoints had to be secured, docks had to be monitored, and all ‘classified’ documents had to be safely tucked away. It was a military base after all, but when the boys and girls of the GC came together it looked more like a resort.
Each and every General of each and every branch was in attendance, not to mention a number of the branch Presidents. No expense, whether it be in defense or aesthetics, was spared today. After all; today was The Festival of First Contact! The fiftieth anniversary of humanity’s first encounter with alien life. The space-ports were prepped for the extreme influx of alien and interplanetary visitors, as were the island it self’s docks.
A special ‘party-planning’ committee was put together for this occasion alone. Headed by General Xavier Wallace of the American Branch and his men. The group’s job was to take care of defenses, planning, and over-all operation of the event. Officially, Wallace’s Branch was chosen as the head because it acted as a ‘Beacon of Light’ for the Conglomerate. Really though, they were selected because the American Branch held some of the toughest mothers the planet had ever seen.
Soldiers from all over were specially selected by their superiors to make up Wallace’s crack team. For the first time the branches mixed their soldiers to create a universal unit. This was seen by some as an experiment for future operations.
Regardless. General Wallace was working any and every soldier under his command to the bone. For some, it was a considerable change to grow accustomed too, but for one soldier in particular, this was what he had been used to for years.
That soldier was Colonel Demetri Maverick.
With a Rolling 7’s Cigarette in his mouth, the soldier kicked his feet up on a single wooden crate. He was hidden amongst a number of crates that had just arrived to the Main Complex [which held the ballroom where the main party was to be held]. Golden headphones fastened tightly over his dome, he drowned out any and everything happening around him. He was dressed in a tight white V-neck and khaki’s, non-regulation of course. Thankfully, uniform wasn’t required for the simple task all Soldiers on deck were given. That task was tend to ANY unfinished preparations.
The party was set to begin at eight sharp, and the GC boys and gals had a lot to do before then…
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