The midday sun beat down upon the Seine with an unrelenting heat, that only seamed to bounce off of the cool, blue waters.  They seemed unnaturally blue, like they had been tainted with a tear of God, a perfection of azure.  They said that a hundred years ago, it was rotten, a sludge like green.  In the time since the old world, the entire civilization of humanity has had to devolve itself, not able to have all of the necessities it had before.  Used to have cars for everyone, electricity everywhere, anything you wanted at anytime, technology at everyone's finger tips, no one had to do anything.  Since the Gears, humans have had to do what they need to survive, devolving to a lower class of themselves, to what you may call animalistic.  Going back to making fires with twig and brush, staying in packs, depending on the bigger to survive, women to bear children to keep the race going.  Most places were like that, and a lot also used old principles based on what you needed to do to survive, trying to feign a normal life, but always living in a fearful shadow of a Gear shadow.  Troy was different.

Troy was erected somewhere early in the 2120's, built by outcasts of the Seikishidan, and completely separatist of the rest of the world.  They built huge walls around their city, keeping out Gears and everyone they didn't want.  The city was big enough for the small population that built it, about a hundred people, all families.  Most were retired soldiers, as I said, and some were young people who didn't want to go into the Seikishidan, so they helped build this city.  Over the years, they've reinforced their walls, and found the limitations of the original walls were too constricting, but building outward would have to destroy the old ones and build new ones, too much of a risk to the security of the now fifteen thousand plus occupants of the city.  So, they built upward, the city a massive spiraling upward city.

There are also rumors that Troy was a bit more technologically advanced than most other places, due to no threat of Gears, so they could revert to some old ways, some of the older things in lives lost hundreds of years prior.  Not only that, but that Troy dealt with Zepp, who saw them as a ground-base they could trust, as opposed to the rest of the world they hated.

You might be asking now, "Who is Zepp?"  Let me tell you, simply.  Zepp is a floating nation, thirteen-hundred miles long, floating about fifty miles above the ground.  It was erected in about 2017, with technology made by magic.  Since then, they have expanded outward, the small five-mile plot of Zepp turning into thirteen hundred miles, a large nation in itself.  They were very technologically advanced, as most of the world was in 2070, before the Gears.  They even had small innovations of their own since then, namely Black Tech, but that's another story.  Anyway, they saw the world below as savages and Neanderthals, because of their lack of technology, which was a direct correlation to a hundred year long war, duh.  They hated the surface dwellers, except for Troy, who they seemed to help slightly, and only slightly, most of it illegal by Zeppians, but some helping, which is why the city has a bit of technology inside of it that is more advanced than the rest of the world, most of the "advanced technology" not being advanced, but merely that of a hundred years ago, but more than the world had at this time anyway.

There's a lot more about Troy, but that's all you should basically know now.  The rest I will divulge as it comes to me, but back to Darton, Bianca, and her American friend.

"So..." Darton said with boredom leaking from his lips.

"Don't be so impatient.  You decided to come, so deal with it." Bianca said back.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining.  What's wrong with making conversation?" he asked, his eyes implying a shrug his body couldn't do.

"Nothing, just I was resting." she said, looking out of the side of the small boat, her hand trailing to the side in the crystal blue water of the Seine.

"You're irritable..." he mumbled, looking out ahead of him.  He could hear nothing except nature, the small rodents in the fields scurrying, insects jumping from stalk of grass to the next, the low rush of water over the rocks underneath.  The foliage was over grown, over and around the sides of the Seine.  It wasn't so much as green as a garden would be, considering France wasn't as tropical for that, but it had a lot of temperate growth, foot high grass, a few oaks, and the likes.  Not a forest in sight, but few littered trees, low lying grass, not much dead though.  The atmosphere had been untainted since 2099, when all of the things that humanity still had to ruin its own planet was used in the massive final stand against the Gears, and since then, the planet had time to recover itself, pollution being destroyed and other things, such as nuclear bombs' effects, being recycled through itself, a slight rehash to Eden.

The American sat at the top of the boat, just looking on at where he was going, a long pole in his hands, reaching down to the bottom of the Seine, the bottom never seen.  It could have been twenty feet long or a hundred, Quint couldn't tell, but he masterfully reached it down, then up again, lazily propelling them all forward.  The boat was a wooden one, arced across, like half of an egg, the half-egg shape framed with one piece running from tip to tip along the bottom, strips of wood arcing horizontally up to the edge, which was about two feet above the water, three wooden planks in the middle to sit on.  It was old, the wood rotten in places and water-eaten, but it had been repaired, metal bolts in and through, newer pieces showing their disposition to being in such an old thing.  Yet, it floated, it didn't leak, and it did what it was made to do.  It was another thing in this war-torn world, old and battered, yet worked because of its simplicity, something the world needed more of, not insanely complicated things, like Gears and "magic" to destroy their lives.

"Hey Bianca, why'd you come back for me?" Quint asked, still looking ahead of the boat along the riverside, the fifty foot expanse from each shore seeming like inches off in the distance.  She looked over at him confused, then back up at the river herself, silent for a moment, then speaking.

"When you were down on Floor F, you responded to me saying I was from Troy.  When I was going to go, I saw the shit you'd been through, and thought you might want to leave and get out of there, go somewhere else." she said, looking back with a smile.

"Yeah..." he said, trailing off.  A slight silence distanced them, the soft paddle of the lengthy stick the American dipped into the waters and pushed the boat further along against the floor of the river, the soft rustling of the waves past the old boat bringing poetry to their words and emotions.  "Thanks." he said with a slight smile, looking over at her.  She looked back, unable of what to think, then replied.

"Yeah...no problem."  Another silence for a minute, the American in front never turning back, just robotically continuing his stroke, somewhat slow, but relaxingly smooth in its procession.  "Why did you want to go though?" she finally asked, truthfulness in her voice usually stained with that false sweetness she allured with.

"Why did I want to go...I don't know, it has to do kind of with what happened in the headquarters.  And that I was done with the Holy Order, I was done with it all, and why not Neo Troy?"

"You know they don't allow strangers in, especially Seikishidan."

"I would have gotten in." Quint said with a strength.

"Sure...but what happened?" she finally asked, not wanting to hear a surface-skidding answer, but wanted to be submersed in the truth, falling underneath the waves of "why" instead of sailing over.

"...I don't think I should tell you."

"I don't think I could get you into Troy then." she pestered.  He looked over at her seriously, her smug grin, knowing she had won, and Darton had to crack, and he had to get into Troy, because he'd have to go back to the Seikishidan, and couldn't get anywhere with his wounds.

"I wanted to get away from the Seikishidan, okay?  I had spent five years there, I think, I lost track, maybe six." he said, looking back at her, her looking at him as he told, the American seeming oblivious to everything except the river ahead.  "I was sick of it.  Sick of the Seikishidan, sick of the war, sick of it all, I wanted to just get away and live somewhere else; I had no more reason, I lost it, nothing to protect, nothing to avenge.  It didn't help I was a private for all of my time there, despite being part of many battles, many pivotal ones as well."

"Like what?"

"De La Morte, Hayday, Reintroduction...and Tibet..." he said, looking off, memories of feelings and battles past flooding him, the death of friends and soldiers and they slaying of Gears mixing in a memory of blood.  He then blinked a few times, racing his own self back to reality, then leaned over at her, smiling.  "I'm through with it, I don't want to be in the Seikishidan anymore.  Not much there anymore for me."

"Sounds pretty feasible...I believe you...except for one thing." she said strategically, his confused and amused face asking the question of "What?".  "You said you lost something to avenge.  What?"  Quint smiled slightly, knowing she was perceptive, those words falling out of his own mouth, but he hoped she didn't pick up on them.

"Well, that's a secret.  You're good.  I'll give you that."

"I still want to know."

"How about some other time." he said, trying to brush off the thought.

"How about now."  He looked at her for a minute, thinking, then found words to brush off the conversation.

"You said earlier I owe you a drink or something in Troy?"

"Yeah..."

"How about I tell you when I buy you that drink."

"Ha, you're good." she said, a bit of an equal retort, using his words before.  She smiled back at him, with a reciprocated glance.

"Guess to find out you'll have to get me into Troy."

"What makes you think I care enough?" she said flirtatiously.

"Because you asked and you brought me this far.  You wanted to know, using Troy as a block against me.  Come on, Bianca, you're not that mysterious."

"Oh?" she said, feigning pain.  "You figured me out.  It hurts..." she said, turning her vapid act of hurt to a smile.  "Alright, Mr. Darton, I'll see your secret over a drink, though let me tell you, it'll be quite a few.  I like to drink." she said, a bit of a hint on her tongue as to an attraction, though she was overly flirtatious about everything, so Quint was dumbfounded by her anyway, but he couldn't deny he liked her.  She was clever, and her constantly changing mood and acts, which were all mainly just eccentricities, was something that kept Darton amused, though made him question if she ever could be entirely serious.  Doesn't matter for now, maybe another time.  If she could be serious, eh?  Serious...odd word to put the situation.  Oh well, she's interested, that's a sign, I guess.  Showing a reciprocation, I should.  Eh, don't push it, too much shit to get through and do before.  Get to Troy, just get to Troy, then you can fool around all you want.  But, you're basically home free anyway, what's the big deal?  Shut up, wait till you're in Troy.

"He's back" Sol said slowly, one arm draped across the front of the bar counter, the other a beer in hand, which he finished off, dropping the bottle to the counter, where it rolled around, finally falling off the side and splintering on the ground into a thousand pieces.  Two soldiers on each side of him were turned opposite of Sol, talking to others, completely leaving him isolated, but when Sol talked, those who could hear him listened.  They all heard what he muttered, thought for a second, and instantly stood, getting together and leaving orderly, as if not to alert anyone else.  "Goddamn soldiers always wanna impress the leader." he mumbled again, the empty seats being filled by other willing soldiers, in place of the few who heard Sol.

"Another beer" he said to the man behind the serving line, converted to a bar at night, the small stools being brought out by soldiers who were there first, stowed at night by those last to leave.  The man handed him another bottle, which Sol grabbed away, flicking off the metallic top securely fastened with his thumb like it were paper, and drinking more.  Outside of the soldier cafeteria, about three hundred yards away, the gates of the circular Seikishidan base at Bordeaux opening slowly, the soldiers on guard duty grabbing the ropes of them, attaches at hinges, and pulled them open for the MT to ride in smoothly.  It stopped in front end first this time, not bothering to turn itself around like it had last time Kiske was here.

The hydraulic doors slowly flipped themselves down, the back double doors left closed, because they were more trouble than they were worth to open and close, so Jaygus and Kiske just filed out of it from one of the doors positioned at the twenty-five soldier intervals.  They had to walk along the length of the MT before they found themselves at the open gates, then stepped in, the top of the MT barely inside the base.  They could see the drivers had already gotten out, and were headed towards the bar.  Kiske rolled his neck slightly, the bones popping into place from an awkward sleep on his own shoulder inside of the truck.

Passing the two soldiers headed to the bar were about ten soldiers hustling to the front gates of the base.  Kiske knew they were coming to him, so he stood for a second thinking, Jaygus next to him equally silent.  Within a minute, they were in front of him, panting slightly from their run, the highest ranking officer saluting Kiske.

"Sergeant Michael Rivarez reporting, sir.  Anything you need?" he said, the few lieutenants and privates behind him standing at attention, their gazes slightly above Ky's head not looking him in the eyes.  Ky wasn't in the mood for soldiers trying to suck up, so he dealed with the situation accordingly.

"Sergeant" he said, looking at the soldier who kept his eyes plastered above Kiske, like he was transfixed on an apparatus above his head, a halo, maybe.  "Just leave me be.  Dismissed."  The soldier did an end salute, turned, and walked back off to the bar, whispers among him and his men about what Kiske's problem was.  Ky turned to Jaygus who stood next to him completely unfazed.

"A bit rude, sir?"

"I'm just not in the mood, Jaygus." he said with a sigh, walking forward.  "The whole U.N. day really grated on me, as well as the ride."  He took a few more steps forward before he heard his name, though not from Jaygus at his side.  He turned, to see Gestahl standing, his U.N. suit impeccable, motioning for him.

"Did you forget so soon, Mr. Kiske?  We have Lyon to attend to."

"Oh, yeah." Ky said, the words jostling it in his mind.  "Well, we gonna brief now or what?"

"We are going to brief you and the troops, Mr. Kiske, so let's get to it." he said, walking past him, towards the dim lights filtering from the noisy cafeteria-turned-bar-at-sundown.  Gestahl turned as he walked, his old body not as limber as he'd like, a little bit of pain concealing itself from his face as he handed Ky a small stack of papers.

"Names?" Ky asked, flipping through the pages, following Gestahl.

"Yes, the soldiers sanctioned to accompany you on this mission.  We're going to go round them up."  A few hundred yards later, the double doors of the bar swung open, Gestahl stepping in, both hands fastened to each other behind his back, surveying.  The room, which only held 500, was packed with nearly 1500, all laughing, drinking, having a good time in the bar.  Cards were strewn about, soldiers arm wrestling, some smoking, just hanging out with each other.  It was good to keep levity in such a serious place, in serious times, because all of the death and life taken from the war had to be in some ways replenished, the shot-glass of vitality was drank from by the wars, and had to be refilled by the soldiers, by the rest of humanity, lest the glass go empty and crack, of which it could hold no more liquor in it.

Ky and Jaygus entered behind Gestahl, Ky brushing past Gestahl, feeling something heavy in his pocket as he did. The shiny thing...  The room instantly got silent, the feeling of Kiske near shooting through the crowd until they all were silent and looking.  Ky pivoted his head, looking at the soldiers faces, all reflecting back at him, some looking him straight in the eyes, unintentionally, but him not caring.

"Tomorrow we launch a mission to recapture Lyon.  I have a list here of..." Ky read the top of the list, which had an exact number of names on the list "554 soldiers that will be on the trip tomorrow, the other 46 slots will be U.N. officials and A.A.'s."  The soldiers seemed to burst to life by the mention of A.A.'s, snickering and joking, shutting up at the first decibel of noise from Kiske.  "Starting with commanding officers of the three factions going.  Sergeant Michael Rivarez, Sergeant..." the list trailed on, going through the names of three fourth-level sergeants who would lead groups of roughly 200 a piece into Lyon, as much as a MT, ironically.  Then, the list filtered through to lieutenants and privates.  Each mention of a name was instantly reacted with the soldier in question standing up, ecstatic to be on the mission with Ky Kiske, or instantly sick to their stomach, not wanting to fight.  Others stood and just simply stood, not caring, already battle scared enough and grizzled to think "Oh, another mission, alright."  By the end of the list, and about thirty minutes later, the room had 553 soldiers standing up, the last name on the list not wanting to be read.

Ky looked around at all of the soldiers standing, then nodded his head, and started to walk out.  Gestahl stopped Ky, his arm extending out to gently grab him.  Ky looked over angrily at the U.N. official, who only shot him back a glance of "Aren't you forgetting something?".

"Let me go, Gestahl." he said, walking past.  Then, the soldiers rustled through the crowd of soldiers sitting around, to file out of the room behind Kiske.

"There is one more soldier here that was not named."  Gestahl shouted over the instant rush of soldiers and sound, all going deaf again.  Ky turned, looking at Gestahl angrily, knowing he would say it.  "Sol Badguy" he said, a murmur pulsating through the crowd.  A loud thud was heard as a final beer bottle clanked against the counter of the bar, which served as a tray run for the normal cafeteria hours.  Sol stood up, still looking at the bar tender who seemed to vibrate fear as the massive man stood up, towering over at a little over six feet, his massive muscles and size seeming to emanate his prowess of fury.

"Yeah...I'm here." he said, turning, his grizzly voice lined in a sarcasm echoing in the silent cafeteria.  He took a few steps forward his sword trailing along the ground as he did, though securely in his grip.  The tip flitted across the ground in a tink-tink-tink noise, which was amplified by the pure nothingness in the area.  Small lines of flame seemed to spew out of where the blade touched the ground, rising out an inch or two high from the cement, and dying down, leaving no trace as to their existence, the trail a consistent six inches behind the sword, every inch further of the sword, the trail dying an inch behind and making up an inch forward.  The flames were small, produced by the sword itself, but neither burning on a source or leaving any indignation they ever existed, a "magical" flame, in both ways of its mysteriousness and flat-out honesty.

The man's footsteps seemed to clear a pathway, soldiers moving out of the way of the man who's glare sent them out of the way.  They all learned before not to screw with Sol, and they had an ample respect for him, which was mostly fear, except for those uneducated and Ky Kiske.  He stopped in front of Gestahl, Ky next to him, bringing one hand up to his neck, and cranking it one way, a loud pop emitting.

"Yeah?" he said sarcastically, looking directly at Ky who turned to face him.

"Seems the U.N. knew you were here and wants you on the mission." Ky said disdainfully.

"Seems that way.  What if I say no?"

"Better for me.  Soldiers, let's go." he said, trying to take another step forward, but Sol's massive strength latching to one of his shoulders, and whipping him around to face Sol.

"I said 'what if'." Sol smirked.

"Fine, don't miss briefing, let's go." Ky said, his lip curling up in disgust in a very uncontrolled way, a second-nature thing he did to those he hated.  Sol looked back at the soldiers who seemed frozen.

"You heard the man, briefing time." he said, ndoding his head, and walking out.

You may think "Sol is doing what Ky said, helping?  What is this?!".  Well, maybe I haven't clarified or given enough depth to Sol.  He is a very interesting person, that's for sure, as well as a bit of a shady one at that, not entirely a "person" you'd want to meet.  But, I get ahead of myself.  Sol's background is relatively unknown, though he was a bounty hunter before he was asked to join the Seikishidan.  He was asked to join as Kliff's last request to Ky before he retired, so Kiske had him recruited.  I told this story before, and a few months after, he left with one of the Seikishidan's artifacts, the Fuurenken, Fire Seal, an opposite of Kiske's Fuuraiken, Thunder Seal.  Since then, he's just kind of floated around, taking bounties and what not, obviously just sitting around at Bordeaux.  Though, he was unafraid of the Seikishidan or bounties on himself, since simply, he didn't need to care.  He was more than formidable in every area, and a bit crazy to boot, not a good combination.  Anyway...

The soldiers filed out of the cafeteria, leaving it seemingly empty from the five-hundred-fifty-four man deficit, though still over packed at a capacity excess of five hundred more, but was noticeably more empty.  They all followed Kiske across the court yard, a few hundred meters of them pacing in silence, only their footsteps as noises in the pale moonlight.  The ground was mostly devoid of life, paced over and the dirt packed to a cement-like hardness inside the walls of the Seikishidan Bordeaux base.  Though, a humid air had settled on the area the past few days, leaving the hard ground a bit more wet than normal, their boots plodding through with a noticeable squeak of the treads into the rough cement, the equally rough magic by-product type of rubber.  Across the base lie the briefing room, which was also an instructional room at the same time, when not in use for missions, it was an instructional place for teachings on new combat manuevers, new survival guidelines, everything that a Seikishidan soldier needed to know to keep themselves alive and use what they had, and get what they needed.

The room was small, though the five hundred and fifty four piled in, standing in tight rows across the sixty foot by forty foot room, each row packed with soldiers, in front and in back.  Their breaths mingled, no real privacy to themselves, but they devoted their attention to the front, where the Lyon briefing was.  Ky stood at the front with Gestahl, Ky like one of the Seikishidan soldiers himself watching the briefing.  Ky knew about Lyon, I even hinted at it early in the story, when he was in his office, but for those who forget, here's the briefing.

Gestahl stood in front of the soldiers, eyes transfixed on him and Ky, the legions of eyes on both, shifting back and forth, then he cleared his throat, his old voice showing signs of wear and tear.  The soldiers snapped to full attention, eyes slightly above Gestahl's head.

"Soldiers of the Holy Order..." he said, looking around, the standard briefing procedure being followed.  "We currently have a situation in Lyon, France, that requires we take drastic action.  The situation is actually quite simple.  Three weeks ago, the city was over run with Gears, they slaughtered every body and left the city a ghost of itself, a dead hole filled with Gears.  We suspect the previous Parisian Seikishidan Headquarters attack to have been staged from Lyon, a central hub of the Gears right now.  This is bad, though.  They have a base inside of our safe zone, we need to eliminate that, or they will eliminate us."  Each word he spoke, he took in the reactions of the soldiers who tried to stay statue-esque, but their feelings could be seen underneath. Some were ecstatic for a mission, ready for action, others seemed sad, afraid of the battle and death coming up, others apathetic, just waiting for it.  Sol stood at the front of the room, leaning against a wall, somehow away from the packed Seikishidan soldiers, on his own terms.

"We're going to take three MTs, separate into three teams lead by the three sergeants designated before.  Each time has an objective.  Our primary goal is simple: eradication of the Gear threat in Lyon.  Do you get me?"

"We get you, sir!" the soldiers said in a ensemble voice, very cold and decisive, yet an underlying warmth, their emotions portrayed in each and every rhythmic voice in that sentence.

"Insertion point is the sewer ducts outside of the city from hundreds of years past.  They still work, so the Lyon folk decided 'Why change it?'.  Well, we're going to be going through them.  There are tree main branching tunnels from the main entrance" he said, pointing his hand to a large picture of it in the front of the room, a blueprint that had been ruffled from years of use, made decades past, courtesy of the U.N., of course.  "We have three teams, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, each to a tunnel, starting left, going right, you'll get who is each." Gestahl said sternly, the soldiers nodding in affirmation.

"Each team has an entrance point that will be designated to be reached by each sergeant, from there, set up a station of operation,  and proceed to the center of the city, located here." Gestahl motioned, flipping the blueprint to another view of the entire city.  "When here, we will stage an effective attack on the Gears who threaten us.  If you encounter any resistance before getting to the center, you will each be given a flair gun, equipped with one flair, shoot it up, and the other two teams will proceed to their best ability to help, if they are not caught up.  Do not lose the flair gun, you will be returning it after the mission back to the U.N.  These are not toys, they are relics, and only put to use in dire times.  You lose or break one of them, and consider yourself dead, you and your entire team."  A few soldier swallowed, a bit scared, others not willing to place that responsibilities with someone else, putting their lives in someone else's hands.

"After the Gear threat is disposed of, U.N. will come in from their points outside of the city at the aqueducts, complete with A.A.'s to tend to wounded, and set up a base of operations in Lyon to start rebuilding the city, and if it is unsalvageable, then at least we took out the Gears, and we have isolated them out of Western Europe.  We don't need another attack like the Parisian headquarters raid or another city like Lyon to fall.  Our Lyon Seikishidan branch also was demolished, so keep in mind we're not just liberating a city full of victims, but also of soldiers.  We leave at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow, be up and be ready, soldiers.  Dismissed."

They each saluted, turned to their right, and filed out, one row at a time, without being told or asked.  After about five minutes, they were all gone, only Kiske and Gestahl left in the room, though Sol was standing over in the corner as he had been the entire time, neither aware.  A light crackling sound emitted the room, then the burning of a cigarette, the purple smoke clouding to the top, hitting the ceiling and pluming out to the edges, dying amongst the clear air, it's lavender rebellion ripped to shreds among the oxygen.

"Great plan, U.N. guy" he said with a smirk.  "You do realize we're gonna get flanked the second we get in that city? It's infested with Gears.  This is suicide."

"And you said you'd go." Kiske answered for Gestahl.  Sol shrugged, bringing the cigarette to his mouth again, inhaling, then blowing out a deep cloud.

"Yeah, I like them kind of odds though.  Do you, boy?" he said, throwing the butt of the cigarette to the ground inside the room, then walking out into the night.

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Zeronova's Notes:
Well, here we are, at the Lyon battle scene.  Yeehaw, right?  Lyon was a little bit of an afterthought last time through, now it is full blown, and I intend to make it worth remembering.  It won't be 75k like the Seikishidan H.Q. was, but it'll be substantial.  Though, I will dedicate the next few chapters to Quint and Bianca, hopefully.  I have a lot I haven't done yet with their relationship that I could.  Anyway, calm before the storm, eh?  This is DG, baby.  This is the meat of it.
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