London Calling

After two long hours of medical checks and background screenings Gray finally made it into London. He carried just one large black duffle bag across his back with a single strap across his chest. The heavy sack contained all his belongings he planned to bring with him on his journey: some clothes, toiletries, his favorite books, music player, and of course his weapons. Overall he packed lightly. His new position in the Gelemorté military came with a decent salary so he could always buy anything that he would come to need as he traveled along.

He opted not to wear his Praetorian Guard uniform while traveling in order to seem less conspicuous. However he had it packed away in case the need ever arises for him to leverage his rank. Instead he wore simple civilian clothes. He wore black slacks with black dress shoes that were shined by his mother just before he had left his family two months ago. He wore a white button down dress shirt under a grey vest with a skinny black tie tucked underneath. And finally he carried an old leather jacket over his shoulder that would keep him some what warm while in London. He wasn't incredibly fashionable, but all his clothes minus his jacket were of high quality and said 'young professional'. Gray wouldn't fit in with the artsy types but he would be able to get into most clubs no problem.

He brushed his long white hair to the left side of his face, pushing his bangs over the jagged scar just above his left eye. The sun was bright and the city seemed alive despite the darkness creeping in from every corner. A new graffiti law had been passed and now the whole city seemed to be a canvas for some truly inspiring art. Gray couldn't help but marvel at how this place seemed to thrive even with the Deadlight-Virus knocking at it's door. 'This place and it's people must be very resilient,' thought Gray. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of fake black ray-bans and covered his eyes. He readjusted his bag over his right shoulder and began to explore.

Gray wandered through the streets of London making sure to take in all the sights and culture. Even though the world was decaying away this place seemed to be thriving. Perhaps it was a testament to the human spirit. Or perhaps it was just humanity's last spark before it's flame finally flickered out. This was neither here nor there. The young military man stifled his inner philosopher as many soldiers learned to do. He had a mission and he needed to focus on that, not on the human psyche.    
Just as he refocused his resolve he heard a women shriek. He instinctively reached for his firearm but quickly realized it was packed away. 'Stupid'. His eyes darted around looking for the distressed women. His eyes met with a man's wearing a black scarf over his face clutching a purse running straight towards Gray. A few meters behind the thief was a young blonde women reaching out already beginning to cry. Common theft was a business that thrives even in the face of Armageddon it seemed.

Gray lunged forward, stepping to the right side of the thief. Then with his left forearm he close-lined the masked man causing him to drop to his back with a harsh thud. The purse flew up and out of the man's hand in the process and landed right in Gray's left hand. The white bag contrasted with his dark gray automail starkly...

The distraught women's mouth dropped opened in shock. Even Gray was surprised at how smoothly the whole thing went. He suppressed his smile and reached down at the thief with his free hand and ripped the scarf from his face.

It was just a kid. And he was clutching his chest gasping, trying to reclaim the wind that Gray had claimed from him. Gray winced. He lifted the boy up by the collar onto his shaky feet. The women was now running over with a mean look on her face. 'This whole world is screwed,' thought Gray. Before the angry young women could reach them Gray took out the money he had placed aside for the day and forced it into the boy's hand. Then by giving him a little shove he sent the boy running off and away like a wounded animal.  

Just a moment later the women made it up to Gray and began screaming at him in a foreign language. He had almost forgot he didn't speak Cretan. He just smiled and shrugged before holding the bag out toward the women. Now that she was so near Gray realized she actually very pretty.

"Speak Rouenian?" asked Gray.

It seemed the young women realized all at once how rude she was being. Gray had just saved the day and she was screaming about him letting the thief get away. Gray wasn't surprised by her initial reaction at all. Most people feel strongest about justice when they are the prosecution. But it seemed this women was a little better than that. She stopped yelling at once and covered her face in embarrassment. She took a deep breath and lowed her hand and reached it out towards Gray.

"I'm so sorry. My name is Juliet. And thank you so much for getting my purse back."

"Oh it was no problem. I'm glad you speak Rouenian. It's been a while since I've talked to anyone in my native tongue." Gray shook her hand and then motioned once more for her to take her purse.

Juliet took the purse and smiled excitedly. "You have no idea how much you just saved me there. My whole life is in this thing." said Juliet clutching her bag.

"I can understand that." said Gray as he re-positioned his duffle bag. "Literally my whole life is in this thing."

Juliet laughed out loud. She then reached out and grabbed him by his left hand. "Your funny. Let me buy you a drink. It's the least I can do."

Gray didn't know what to make of this girl. She was just a little shorter then him, had long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a pink and a white summer dress under a small white jacket. Her smile was especially warm and she didn't seem bothered by his automail at all. He had a lot of work to do, but he had to admit this girl seemed special. Plus he had just given that poor boy all his money for the day and he was thirsty!

"Sure why not." said Gray smiling.

September 9th
London, Creta
12:02 PM

"Franklin."

"Yes?"

"Public request night is officially over."

It was a regular night at the Royal Pachyderm. A bi-weekly event where the public decided what the night's theme was. Cheap drinks and nights defined entirely by a whole decade were the most popular, usually. It was nothing Rachel was against. However, one request had come in. It was very obviously a joke, and no one agreed with it. Then, as the weeks went by, this 'joke' got more and more traction. Soon, there was a Kickstarter campaign, and it hit the local news. Then national news. All talking about a joke suggestion that was now looking to win on a landslide. Rachel foresaw that international news outlets would probably report on this when it was actually confirmed. And, of course, the joke suggestion won. By miles. People who had never come into the Royal Pachyderm voted on it. And Rachel, knowing what was good for business when she saw it, knew that she would have to go through with it, but not with a great deal of enthusiasm.



It was too much to hope that they meant a drag queen.

"Well, at least this is all going to go to charity," Rachel murmured. Franklin stayed silent, though there was a wide smirk on his face. Rachel looked to him. "You got something to add?"

"Nothing, really, I just don't see what's so difficult about it," he said, "Didn't you give Gavin a private show?"

"That was different," she retorted. "That was to break the ice. And it was in a closed off area, not with hundreds if not thousands, including journalists, watching."

"Sounds like Rachel finally cares about what other people say about her," he said, still grinning. Rachel huffed.

"Right, it's settled! You're stripping as well! I'm getting everyone I can in this shit! I refuse to be alone in this embarrassment!" Despite this threat, Franklin kept grinning.

"It'll be worth it."

"Well, let's have a look at this draft poster Simon's made," Rachel said, changing the subject. Her eyes were plastered to the printer, the rumbling it made filling the office as a sheet of paper came out, face down. She picked it up.

The sovereign queen went red in the face. Franklin burst out laughing.


London was, for once, not trapped in the throes of typical bad Cretan weather. The sun was bright and the city seemed alive despite the darkness creeping in from every corner. A young woman was taking her saviour for a drink, to say thank you for stopping a thief from taking her purse. A young woman named Juliet and a man named Gray.

A young woman and man who, just as they were walking past the Royal Pachyderm, were unexpectedly slammed in the face by the door very violently swinging open, the uncharacteristically enraged queen with a hand on the other side.

Rachel stormed out, looking around. "Where is he?! I'm going to kill him!" Closely following was Franklin, holding a very crudely photoshopped image of Rachel's head on the body of a naked woman, the text suitably censoring the more indecent parts of the body. Franklin was, of course, revelling in the rare sight of Rachel being caught out of her stride. The only other thing that brought out the flustered side of her was cooking, and if she was in Franklin's shoes she would hold no bars with the mocking, so as far as he was concerned it was open hunting season.

"I don't know, it perfectly sums up what's happening. It's a fairly good mock-up," he laughed, stepping outside next to her and observing the poster. Rachel snatched it out of his hands and tore it to shreds.

"Never mind that the production value's fucking shit, or that it completely forgets to mention that this is a charity event!" She bellowed, her eyes burning and looking up to the taller man. Franklin backed away a little, momentarily considering that he might have gone too far, but he didn't want to miss this opportunity in the world. "That is NOT the poster! No way! No how! It's not that!" Her eyes glanced around the canvas of painting buildings around her. "Look, we have street artists all over the damn place and Simon coughs up a screenshot of a porno and sticks my fucking head in it! I could pick up any idiot off the street and they'd make a better poster than that atrocity!"

Gray was being pulled along by the young women who he had just met when a wide door flew open and knocked both of them off their feet. They each grabbed their heads in frustration as small bumps began to form on both of their noggins.

"Ahh what the-"

"The Queen!"

A storm of a lady came blasting out, screaming about something in Cretan. All he caught was the Cretan word for queen from Juliet. 'This is the Queen?' thought Gray. The young military man was ignorant about politics. He found it best to have a narrow focus and to ignore the rest. However now that he had finally attained a high rank within the military it had become somewhat of an embarrassing ignorance. Obviously he had heard of the Queen of Clubs but he hadn't had a face for the name up until now. They didn't match up so well...

"I could do a much better job your majesty!" cried out Juliet.

Of course Gray had no idea what she was saying, other than it was in Cretan. He silently scolded himself for not taking his language classes more seriously.

The girl was already up on her feet obviously enamored by the presence of her country's leader. And perhaps the prospect of a graphic design gig.

Gray shook his head and picked himself off the ground. 'What a strange turn of events... Still the Queen of Creta is right here. I could probably learn a lot about the virus and it's origins from her. Surely she must know something. But how?' He walked up next to Juliet and bowed slightly.

"Hello Your Majesty. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."