Brewing War

2/8 (?)

~~~~

Rain poured.

Like drops of crystals, it was as if the world griefed at the loss of lives that occurred just a day prior.

"...Arthur, are we starting now?"

Arthur didn't reply. He stood there watching the dried blood getting wet again, the disgusting smelling intestines forming a pentagram getting cleaned by the world's cries.

Finally, there was the sword stuck in the small pile of bodies, ridiculing the legend that made the Round Table in the first place.

Unlike Oliver who used an umbrella shielding him from the rain, Arthur felt every drop of water that landed on him.

"...Should we have started earlier, Oliver?"

Thoughts like 'Was this the right decision?' 'Should I have done this…' clouded Arthur's mind for the longest time possible.

He was a fake. He wasn't the fabled King Arthur, he just had his name and a thin amount of his blood due to how long ago it was.

Born for the position of leader of the Round Table he had no other thoughts but it. Just one of the long lines of 'leader'.

Oliver patted Arthur's shoulder.

"The plan isn't complete yet, you aren't wrong."

This was just one of the countless bases stationed across all of England but it sparked the start of a war.

'I see someone I recognize…'

Arthur saw a corpse of an agent now dead and intestines ripped out.

He was powerful, but what use is power if it can't be used for anything he wished to use it for?

He felt retrained, confined in the Round Table. Everything from his daily activities to his free will was linked to the Round Table.

The organization felt alive for him. Like he was just a mere puppet for its own gain.

"...Start operation Joker."

Oliver brought out his phone to call someone.

Arthur looked into the gray clouds.

'...I'm… so tired.'

*

*

*

"?"

I looked into the clouds.

'...What was that?'

It almost felt like someone was going through something like what I was.

I shook off the stupid thoughts and instead went over what I found out about London.

A random explosion occurred in a forest some ways off of London. 

While it was not directly linked to London it was still in the vicinity and the explosion was far too large for it to be not an act of terrorism.

Like I had thought just the day after, the government announced it to be an act of terrorism and the country went into a lockdown.

'It's finally happening.'

People of the Spy world knew of the rising tensions between the cult worshiping Jack the Ripper and the Round Table.

At some point the war would have broken out and it seems I was 'lucky' enough to be here when it all started.

Cars passed by and the rain poured and it didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.

I eventually reached a small cafe, it looked cozy with a wooden door and some classical music seeping out from the cracks of the door, though drowned out by the rain, gave it a pleasant feel.

~Ring! ~Ring!

"Ah, over here."

I saw a man wave at me.

Walking over, I passed the barista and gave a small nod until I sat in a corner facing the man.

"We talked on the phone, yes? My name is William."

"...Haha. You don't need to tell me your name, rather the fake identity you just gave me.."

'He's quite perceptive.'

This was the first merchant I got in contact with today.

I dropped the act and got straight to the point.

"Do you know this EMP device?"

He picked up the EMP, inspecting it before putting it back on the table.

"...Yes I do, if I recall I had it shipped to Madame Roux."

'Oh? How lucky.'

It has been five days since I got to London and I have been in contact with countless merchants. But because of the internal war going on it was difficult to get a hold of some of them.

"How about its maker, Virus?" 

"No, I got this EMP directly from one of my sources." He replied.

"Can you tell me who sold this to you?"

I saw his eyes sharpen, a merchant look that looked hungry for money.

"Fifty-thousand pounds sterling."

'Haha… I'm so glad that I'm no longer broke.'

Virus' teaching helped me in the financial aspect of my life a lot… 

"Digital or physical…"

"Physical please~" A cat face appeared, satisfied with the exchange.

I brought out ten of the twenty stacks of money in my briefcase.

Once I handed the money over he counted every last one of the hundred bills till he was satisfied. I didn't even question the validity of this cafe because he would also be caught as well.

Not like I couldn't fight let alone escape if I was caught.

"...The organization, or rather the 'cult' you could call it, was the Cult of Whitechapel."

"...Really?"

My head throbbed at the thought of me joining them to find out who it was. Not only that but I was on a time limit, the war between the two factions.

The merchant took one last gulp of his tea before saying, "Yes, I can only wish you luck on your endeavors 'Mr William', now then, good doing business with you."

The wooden chair screeched before he left after paying for his drink.

'Hah… I'm a time limit…'

I already knew that the Round Tables combat strength was higher than the Cults by a large margin.

They had governmental agents and trained people after all, but the Cult was mostly just gangsters and hooligans.

"Ugh…"

Who knew revenge would be so complicated. 

Of course I was being over dramatic, I wasn't a person to complain about work, so much so after my brainwashing…

Makoto's face appeared in my mind, giving me so much work that a person would have died by the sheer amount needed to be done.

"Looks like I have to find some gangsters…"

Thankfully the center of London had the highest crime rate, if not I could go to a more isolated borough.

*

*

*

People rushed left and right, making phone calls, and directing different agents to their next locations.

Amongst them all was an office, the leaders office of the Round Table.

-Knock -Knock

"I'm coming in."

As Oliver headed into the office he was met by the sight of Arthur diligently working on paperwork.

"...Arthur, this is supposed to be your break isn't it?"

"Does it matter? It doesn't matter if I do it now or a few minutes from now so why shouldn't I do it now?"

He gave a brief answer, not looking up from his work.

"You need to take a break, if you collapse, who will take care of the Round Table?"

'I truly am a slave to this place…'

"Hah…"

Arthur took off his glasses and looked at Oliver who was now sitting in the seats for guests.

"You worry too much, my body is too strong to pass out from working on paperwork."

Arthur said, unamused at Oliver's worries.

"I'm saying this because you have to lead a combat squad to wipe out one of the cult's bases today. If you tire yourself now, your combat effectiveness will fall."

He waved his hand and dismissed Oliver's worries.

"Enough with your worries Oliver, why did you come to see me?"

Oliver's bright face turned into a more somber one.

"...We caught sight of one of the Five… Dark Mary."

"...That nihilist is most likely the one to make that… 'mound'."

Arthur tapped his right index finger in a beat of a hundred beats a minute. A trait that showed when he was in thought.

"Yes, most likely. But Arthur, are you not going to catch her?" Oliver asked, worried about the threat that the Dark Mary posed to the weaker agents in the Round Table.

"Why are you so on edge Oliver? It was just a sighting, she'll be captured and put down like the others in due time."

Arthur explained, deep in thought, his eyes seemed to peer at something beyond what others could see.

"..."

Oliver saw the deep look in Arthur's eyes. He had the eyes of a man that undoubtedly had his life crumbling around him.

It wasn't his actual physical life, but rather his mental one that slowly crumbled.

"...Alright, Alright~ Don't worry about it…" Oliver's tone turned happy before whispering, "I'll always support your decision Arthur."

Oliver left his office and not long after Arthur started on the paperwork once again.

*

*

*

  "...Is this enough proof?"

Takahiro sighed, this was too trivial for him.

With the combined combat strength of a gold rank, average gangsters stood no chance in the first place. (A/N: The Gold Rank part will be explain at the end of the chapter)

"...You're quite the monster."

The man sitting on the crate said, baffled at Takahiro's superhuman strength.

"I can join the cult now, right?"

Takahiro ignored the groans of the gangsters lying on the ground.

"Sure, sure. Follow me."

Leaving the abandoned building, they left for a tattoo shop.

"So, do I even want to know your name, mister mysterious man?" Tha man joked, trying to ease up the atmosphere.

But the words went through one ear and out the next for Takahiro.

'...He came out of nowhere and beat everyone up except me…'

Just a few minutes prior, Takahiro came out from the shadows and asked if they belonged to the Cult of Whitechapel.

"...What's that gotta do with ya!?"

One of the gangsters asked with hostility.

"...Yes, or no. Please answer with yes or no."

His voice was emotionless. Like an undisturbed lake.

"...Yes we are. What good will it do since you know now?" The man sitting on the crate said, waving his hand, that ordered the gangsters to pick up their weapons.

"You do realize that our 'cult' is the monopoly of the United Kingdom and most of Ireland. I don't think you would want to mess with us."

"Who said I'm here to pick a fight?"

His eyes widened in surprise, "You're here to join?"

Takahiro gave his verbal confirmation.

"...How about beating up everyone here?" He said jokingly, asking for the impossible for the common man.

Before he could even retract his statement Takahiro took action.

-Bang!

-Bang!

-Bang!

Within two minutes he defeated all twenty gangsters.

'I knew there were always powerful people, but who knew it would be something straight out of a manga?'

The man mused, frightened at Takahiro's inhuman power.

Spotting the tattoo shop the man informed, "We're here."

-Ring! -Ring!

A skinny man came out with a white button up shirt and glasses, he looked frail like glass.

"Hey, a newcomer is joining us, we need the tattoo for the first rank."

The tattoo artist cleaned his hand with a towel before replying, "Got it, please follow me."

Takahiro followed the man into a private room.

"Where would you like the tattoo to be located?"

Takahiro pulled up his shirt and pointed at a point on his abdomen, a spot where almost no one would be able to see.

"Alright then…"

-Bzzst!

Over the next half an hour a small stickman was drawn along with a roman numeral 'I' drawn to the side about one inch from the stickman.

'Done…'

"...We're done, you may leave."

The tattoo artist said, in a monotone voice, unfit for his face.

Takahiro got up and stretched, loosening the stiff joints.

-Crack!

'I didn't think it would be such a smooth transition from point A to point B…'

Takahiro commented.

"Oh, you're done? I don't get why everything is such a pain just to get one person to join the 'cult'..."

'It certainly is unique…'

Takahiro replied in his mind, trying to keep his persona going.

"We have one last task to do before you're fully in the 'cult'."

"Yo, we can use your basement for his final initiation right?"

The tattoo artist came out from the back once again cleaning his hands excessively with a towel.

"Yes, but please, no blood like last time, if not, I'll kick you out."

For a moment the frail man's aura changed to a more cold one before turning back into a monotonous machine.

"Great~"

Acting oblivious, the duo made their way into the eerie basement.

'...Where have I seen this before?'

Because of the sheer number of missions Takahiro went on, he couldn't remember on the top of his head why he was familiar with such a distinct scene.

Searching through his memory for a good five seconds, he came across the cult incident right before the Termites left for Makoto.

'Everything here is almost a one-to-one replica…'

The distinct smell of blood and the stone altar made Takahiro frown.

Unpleasant memories of being controlled by Technician's personality resurfaced along with the memories of him killing the mastermind - albeit controlled by Technician?.

There were exactly Fifteen 'people' in robes.

The man went up and took one of the robes off and Takahiro was surprised to find a custom mannequin underneath, kneeling in reverence toward the stone altar.

"Put this on and take the position that the mannequin is in."

He went and picked the mannequin up and moved it to one of the corners of the room.

-Click

"Tsk… *@#@%$%&@#^…"

Unintelligible muttering came from a disc player.

Takahiro looked at the man holding the player.

"It fits the mood, trust me."

~~~~

…

Ah, haha. Hi.

My bad for not uploading two days ago, I'll do a triple upload tmrw to keep the streak going. (I have a test to study for)

Wish me luck…