Third Person: The Chess Match
The IS Academy wasn't just a school; it was a political fortress. And in its war room, an austere chamber dominated by an obsidian conference table and a dozen holographic screens, a battle was being waged.
Chifuyu Orimura stood at the center, a beacon of calm in a sea of diplomatic panic. On the screens in front of her, the faces of the powerful looked back with a mixture of greed and anxiety. An aloof British Ministry of Defense official, a grim-faced German general, an enigmatic Japanese government agent, and half a dozen other political sharks.
The news had leaked. Despite "Eclipse Protocol," a secret of the caliber of a second male IS pilot had the shelf life of an ice cube in hell.
"He is a British citizen, Chifuyu-san!" the Englishman, Sir Reginald Covington, argued. "His well-being and his... potential, are of paramount interest to Her Majesty."
"His potential was demonstrated on German soil, so to speak, by interacting with Cadet Bodewig's IS," replied the German general, Klaus von Richter. "German jurisdiction has a clear claim."
Chifuyu listened, her face a mask of impassivity. She knew what they wanted. They didn't care about the man. They cared about the phenomenon. They wanted to possess him, study him, replicate him. They wanted the ultimate weapon.
"At this moment," Chifuyu said, her voice cutting through their squabbling, "the subject is an unidentified intruder who has violated the security of an international facility on Japanese soil and demonstrated unprecedented ability. He is in my custody and will remain so until my internal investigation concludes."
There was an uproar of protests. Chifuyu raised a hand, and silence was instantaneous.
"However," she continued, "in the interest of international cooperation, I will allow a preliminary interrogation session. A joint team. Your best men. Eleven in total, including security. They will be under my direct supervision. But let me be clear: you will observe, not touch. Do we agree?"
It was a concession, but one that allowed her to maintain control. The faces on the screens reluctantly nodded. It was more than they expected to get so soon.
"Good," Chifuyu concluded. "Prepare your team. You have one hour."
She turned off the screens, plunging the room into thoughtful silence. Beside her, another instructor, Maya Yamada, looked nervous.
"Are you sure about this, Chifuyu-san? Letting outside agents interrogate... him. It's risky."
Chifuyu looked at one of the now-dark screens, which reflected her own determined face.
"These men are arrogant. They think they're going to interrogate a drunken party animal they were lucky enough to capture," she said quietly. "I want them to see exactly what we're up against. Sometimes, the best way to control a beast is to let others try to stick their hand in its cage first."
First Person: The Agent's Awakening
Pain was the first thing I registered. A sharp, throbbing ache at the back of my skull that blossomed into a full-blown migraine. I groaned, and the sound seemed to resonate inside my head.
I opened my eyes. I was no longer in the white room. I was in a different room, a soft, pale blue. It smelled of antiseptic. An infirmary. I was lying on an incredibly comfortable bed, dressed in some kind of pajamas or hospital gown.
I slowly sat up, taking inventory. My head felt like Cecilia had used it for batting practice, which wasn't far from the truth. But other than that, and a deep bone-weariness, I was functional.
The agent in me, the one who had been suppressed by panic, alcohol, and humiliation, took full control. The party was over. The comedy of errors had concluded. Now, this was a survival operation in hostile territory.
I analyzed my surroundings. It was a high-tech infirmary. Monitors beside me displayed my vital signs. No windows. A single door, likely reinforced. And in the upper corner of the opposite wall, a small, dark glass dome. A security camera.
Hello. I know you're watching.
I lay back down, closing my eyes, feigning unconsciousness. I needed time. I needed a plan. My previous escape attempt had been impulsive, desperate. A mistake. I wouldn't make it again. This time, I'd bide my time. I'd act with purpose, not panic.
The System, which had been suspiciously silent, chose this moment of clarity to offer me its update.
[HOST STATUS]
Physical Condition: Concussion (Minor), Multiple Contusions, Ego (Shattered and swept under the rug). Situational Condition: Catastrophic (Level FUBAR). Official Host Designation: Walking International Incident. [Situation Analysis: Previous "chaos-based" actions have resulted in maximum-level containment. A shift in strategy to "Silent Lethal Efficiency" is recommended. Or, alternatively, crying in a corner.][Suggestion: Try not to be vivisected. It's unpleasant.]
I ignored the advice but accepted the analysis. They were right. The clown had had his moment. It was time for the professional to come out and play.
I heard the sound of the door sliding open. I kept my breathing slow and regular, my eyes closed. I heard multiple footsteps enter the room. They weren't the light boots of students. They were the heavy, confident treads of security personnel.
The next act was beginning.
Third Person: The Wolves Enter the Cage
In an adjacent observation room, Chifuyu, the five main girls, and Ichika watched the scene on a large screen displaying the security camera feed. They saw an eleven-man team enter the infirmary.
They were a motley but professional-looking group. Three men at the head: an Englishman in a tailored suit with a smirk of superiority, a grim-faced German general in military uniform, and an anonymous-looking Japanese agent with glasses that failed to conceal his sharp eyes. Behind them, eight more men, their personal security, fanned out through the room, taking up surveillance positions. All were elite soldiers or agents, the cream of their respective nations' crop.
"They look very confident," Charlotte commented quietly.
"They underestimate him," Laura said, her single eye fixed on the screen. "They saw the same recordings we did. They see a buffoon."
Cecilia shifted uncomfortably. She remembered the feeling of the baton connecting with his head. She had felt like she was knocking out a barbarian, but now, seeing his still form on the bed, she wasn't so sure.
The Englishman, Sir Reginald, approached the bed. "Well, well. Looks like sleeping beauty's about to wake up," he said sneeringly. "A little help ought to do it."
One of his men handed him a briefcase. He opened it and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid.
"A mild truth serum. Just to... facilitate conversation," he explained to the camera he knew was there, a gesture to Chifuyu.
In the observation room, Chifuyu narrowed her eyes. "Idiots."
Sir Reginald leaned over Leo. "Come on, old chap. Time to talk."
And the moment the syringe's needle was about to touch Leo's arm, the "unconscious patient" exploded.
The action was so fast, so incredibly swift, that the security cameras barely kept up. What the girls saw was a blur of motion.
Leo, whose eyes snapped open at the last second, moved like a snake. His hand shot out and clamped onto Sir Reginald's wrist. There was a dry, sickening crack, and the Englishman screamed, dropping the syringe. Leo snatched it out of the air with his other hand.
In less than a second, he had gone from defenseless patient to armed and dangerous.
He used Sir Reginald's body as a shield, spinning him to face the Englishman's security detail. One of the guards lunged, and Leo, with chilling efficiency, plunged the syringe into his neck. The man stiffened and collapsed.
"Neutralize him!" the German general shouted, but it was already too late. Chaos was Leo's playground.
What followed was not a fight. It was a demolition.
The security screen showed a symphony of precise, brutal violence. Leo moved through the confined room with predatory fluidity. He wasted no motion.
He dodged a guard's swing and used his momentum to throw him into another. He grabbed the Japanese agent by his lapel and headbutted him, knocking him unconscious before he could react.
The German security detail, two enormous men, tried to corner him. Leo slipped between them. A double crack was heard as he applied joint locks to their knees, sending them screaming to the floor in pain.
He didn't kill. He incapacitated. Dislocated joints, pressure points, precise nerve strikes. He used a medical tray as a frisbee, smacking one guard in the face. He disarmed another of his stun baton and used it to put out the last three with a series of quick, accurate strikes to their torso and legs.
It was all over in less than forty-five seconds.
The scene on the screen was one of utter devastation. Eleven men, all elite personnel from the world's most powerful nations, lay unconscious or writhing in pain on the infirmary floor.
And in the center of it all, standing, was Leo.
He was breathing heavily, but he was upright. His hospital gown was slightly askew. He took a moment, running a hand through his hair, as if dusting himself off after a tedious chore.
First Person: A Clear Message
My heart pounded, but my mind was calm. The combat had been a necessary evil, a forced reset of the power dynamics. I looked at them, the men on the floor. They were professionals, but they were arrogant. They had come to interrogate a clown and met a wolf.
I walked over to the bed and straightened my gown. I felt strangely tranquil. For the first time since arriving in this mad world, I felt like I was in control.
I knew they were watching. Chifuyu, the girls. This entire performance had been for them as much as for the idiots on the floor. They needed to understand who they were dealing with. It wasn't the party animal. It wasn't the terrified fugitive. It was this. It was me.
Slowly, with a deliberation I knew would be chilling, I turned my head. I ignored the bodies, the mess, the pain in my own head. My gaze met the dark dome of the security camera.
I didn't smile. I didn't frown. I simply stared.
The game has changed, I thought, making sure every ounce of my intent transmitted through that small glass lens. Your rules no longer apply. From now on, we play by mine.
In the observation room, the silence was so profound you could hear the hum of the monitors.
The five girls and the boy watched the screen, their faces a mixture of awe and pure terror. The image of the man who had vomited on the floor, who had scaled their academy on a drunken dare, now overlaid the image of the efficient predator who had just dismantled an international elite team with barely a sweat. The two images didn't fit, and that dissonance was terrifying.
Cecilia Alcott, the girl who had knocked him out, felt a shiver. The satisfaction she had felt in striking him had turned into icy fear. She hadn't knocked out a barbarian. She had struck a sleeping tiger.
Laura Bodewig, the perfect soldier, watched the recording not with fear, but with a deep, unsettling professional respect. She saw an economy of motion, an understanding of violence, that was different from her own, but no less lethal.
It was Houki who finally broke the silence, her voice barely a trembling whisper.
"He... he defeated all of them... alone..."
Chifuyu Orimura did not take her eyes off the screen, her gaze fixed on Leo's. On her face there was no surprise, only a grim confirmation. Her gamble had paid off. She had let the wolves into the cage, and the beast they contained had ripped their arms off.
Now they all knew the truth.
"We have made a grave, grave mistake," Charlotte whispered, summarizing the sentiment of the entire room. "We cannot force him. We cannot control him."
Chifuyu finally turned away from the screen. She looked at her students, their faces pale and frightened, and then at the image of the man defying her through a camera.
"No," she said, her voice quiet but filled with a new weight. "We cannot make him our enemy. Because if we do... we might not win."