Mertvyi Summit SOUTH OF MOSCOW (W/Nikolaus)

[Envy]

It was wonderful

Blood splattering from now dead humans, landscape destroyed by merciless artillery fire and even civilians got annihilated. It was quite spectacular. Envy hadn't seen anything like this in his current reincarnation. Sure he had seen war, but blood just looked that much better on white. He was having hard time keeping his act together. Not because of his held-back anger. No, this was the other extreme. He was having hard time to keep his stoic face from bursting out into demonic laughter in front of this slaughter. Envy could hold it back. It was such a shame that he would have to hold himself back. Emotional wise, that is. He didn't want to actually fight. The fools would keep the show on running and he, as an audience, would enjoy it. Maybe perform a bit of extempore improvising to spice things up. But mostly he would be in the audience. And he would enjoy it.

But there was actually another goal with him being there. This thing called RIOTE. As they were reformed and seemed to be quite powerful organization, Envy felt a need to know their goal. After that he would decide how to react to them. Maybe he could take advantage of them somehow. It was also the answer on the matter of how Nikolaus was able to convince this homunculus, who hated humans more than anyone, to work temporarily work with one. Speaking of which, that particular person opened his mouth, directing words towards Major Sherman. AKA Envy. ''Indeed. It would be like him to perform something like this to his plans'' This line made Envy miss his Father a bit. He wasn't able to take part of these kind of things by himself. Father had at least made it possible for homunculi to work together. And keep their race mostly pure. But it wasn't time to think that. ''How long do you think it takes for militia of this land to come and try actually to do something? You would think that this spectacle would be noticed and possibly hated by those who don't appreciate a good show''

[Guest]

"Let's go guys, we have a quest...." He slowly sat up, looking over at Tristao as he slowly and deliberately placed his guitar on the ground, chuckling to himself. That was the case, was it? The man smirked, and slowly stood up off of his chair. A quest. He wondered exactly what was going to happen, but he couldn't help feel something. Something foreboding. It was never a good feeling to feel. So to stop feeling that, he put it out in the back of his head and chuckled. Aaalright. Stretching a little and shaking, the snow fell off of his body and landed on the ground as a white powder. Vito nodded to himself, and checked his weapons quickly, making sure that he was quite stocked. He was, as the people say, ready to act.

Watching the lion bound off into the distance, Vito couldn't help but shake his head a little. They had not yet supplied him with a cat, and although he did not mind that, it made life difficult for whatever would happen. He sighed, and heard the voice of Catalina in the distance, "May the Goddess bless us with her gaze and strength. And if we should fall, to bless us in her embrace. Ay-ay!" He raised a hand into the air in agreement, and then looked over at Miss Francesca, who had been staring at him for a few seconds, and so he nodded, acknowledging her presence finally. He gave her a charming smile, before turning towards the distance. She was going to leave him too, was she not? She had her own cat; he'd find his way there behind the group. Vito made a small coughing noise, before:

"Let's walkkkkkkkkkkkkk. Together." He blinked, and a slight trail of blush crossed his face. She had a cat, though. She had no need to go with him. He reached up a hand and scratched the back of his head with a haggard laugh, nodding to the girl and standing next to her as they began to walk, occasionally glancing down at her through dark eyes. He reached into his pocket and slid out a cigarette, put it into his lips... and dropped it into the snow. No, he didn't need to. Miss Francesca didn't like it when he smoked, so he wouldn't. Not with her there.

"Together."

[Shula Brighton]

Whatever fight or raging words that would hav ebeen exchanged were at least stilled before anyone said or did anything they'd regret later, but what it left was a lingering, awkward and terse silence after Csilla helped herself to a rather healthy-sized swig of the whiskey. Hell, Shula was tempted to ask for a sip herself, but thought better of it; there'd be no real point in it anymore now that she could only drink for taste. She sighed lightly, glancing around. Acra looked just as uneasy and unliking of Spade's mood and had closed his eyes to escape it for a last minute nap, and Takumi was quiet, hard at work on his laptop to help get orders and information sorted. She raised her fingers to her temple and rubbled lightly for a moment before looking back up to Spade. In actuality she just wanted to go hug the man's shoulders and tell him it would be alright, even if none of them knew that. Spade... Please, don't shut us out.

------

It was far colder than it had been at the hangar, and Shula was quickly concluding that the Amestrian uniform standard of a "warmer coat for cold weather" was nowhere near warm enough. By the time she left Drachma South would have to wheel in a block of ice and wait for it to thaw before she'd be able to do her job. She held her own arms tightly as she waited outside the ship, supplies unloaded, soldiers unloaded, orders being barked out in a flurry, and then soldiers reloaded.

The warmth Acra had imparted to Shula was a wonderful blessing, relieving her from a coldness unlike anything she'd ever felt and allowed her to observe something beyond the chaos of the moment. She took a small step forward, her boots crunching the snow as she turned her eyes high and held her open palm up. Snowflakes so small she could hardly see them drifted downward, her breath coming out as white clouds that tangled and hung in the air. Briefly she put herself outside of the turbulant world around her, subtracting all the people and current issue to enjoy the stillness of the snow drifting in the night. "It's beautiful," she murmured to nobody in particular. Her radio cutting in brought her back to the moment, Spade's voice feeding into her ear.

"I'm going ahead, Shu. Good luck with the meeting," Wait, he was leaving without them? Shula turned, looking around for Spade and paused as she saw him waving from the airship taking off. She could only wave back; telling him to come back would be pointless. He knew where he was needed, but him not stopping to tell her goodbye... He's like you. After too many goodbyes he's not going to say them anymore, either. She pushed the button to reply to Spade, setting aside her concerns to sound as confident and unafraid as she possibly could, even despite being shit for lying. "See you back at the base, Boss. Stay safe."

Swallowing hard, Shula took a deep breath and took a few steps forward before looking back to her friends. "Well, let's head out, then. We're off to see the Wizard." They walked quietly along to where the meeting with Reila would be, and she honestly couldn't help but wonder how this would go. She'd only been appointed her new rank and station recently; the odds of any of the other bases knowing her new rank and position seemed very unlikely to her, especially given all the chaos. It might have been in a memo somewhere, but given how long it took to get communications in the country up and running again let alone an area that had been devoid of life for a year... It just seemed like an unimportant afterthought. Would he leader of Briggs be expecting only Spade? Oh Lord she hoped this wasn't going to cause an issue... Then again, since when did Spade ever stick to anything's initial plan? Hell, at this point she wasn't even sure of her orders beyond assigning Csilla to help guard the King of Creta who was meeting with Reila...

Shula paused as they grew near, and saw Csilla stop, talking to herself in Cretan. Acra was trying to use his charms to make her relax again against whatever was distressing her, even though Shula couldn't comprehend a word of it. Acra messed with Csilla's hair, said something, and kissed her friend's hand... making her stomach sink a little and the girl wonder if she shouldn't put her hair back to blonde the minute they got home. Shula shook it off to the back burner, bringing her full attention to the people they were approaching and snapped to attention, saluted and looked to Reila. "Lieutenant General? Brigadier General Brighton reporting, Ma'am. This is Lieutenant Colonel Schiwatas, and Second Lieutenant Angelis."

[Guest]

By now, he'd decided that it was all three. He was sick of it, the being alone. He looked up across the street with eyes that spoke droves in their forlorn shells. He was alone in this world. Stepping forwards, Apos walked through the crowds of people that lined the streets, leaving for home after all of this. They were like shadows to him; they didn't understand how he felt, they didn't seem to care. That was the qualm of humanity. They didn't realize the others around them until it was too late. He laughed soberly, shaking his head and smirking. Placing his hands into his pockets, Apos gave a dry chuckle and sat down on a nearby bench, pulling the ID card out of his pocket and studying it. Amestrian Military. It was a card that he needed to give up soon, but felt that he couldn't. Was that because of these feelings of being lonely? Was it because he didn't feel like he was needed? Or maybe... it was because he was needed with these people. He laughed and replaced it in his pocket with a grim smile. That smile hid the sadness in his heart. He was always hiding that sadness.

Even in front of Spade, the man he could call his best friend; his confidant... what if Spade saw him in his weakest moment like this? The man needed to be strong for the sakes of everyone. If he wasn't strong... he stood up and growled lightly, shaking his head. No need to think on that right now. Apos looked back up with a new fire in his eyes, smirking. He could do this. Even if he was alone, he would survive. He'd do it. HE'D FUCKING DO IT! The man clenched his right hand into a sudden fist, and laughed out loud, booming noises crossing the street and over the buildings. He would be the greatest! He would lord over Shovel with this knowledge! HE WOULD BE GREATNESS IN BODY, SOUL AND MIND! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH~! -coughcough- Okay. He was now getting weird looks. That was fine by him. He smirked and stepped forwards, about to walk on the road, when it went past him like WHOOOSH. Like a proper "WHOOOOOSH!" The shape bundled down the road, heading up towards where he knew that Briggs was. Hrm. He looked around and watched the soldiers in their Amestrian Unifoms as well. They were in a hurry. They rushed past him, and he managed to hold out a hand, looking at the man through worried eyes,

"What's going on, Private?"

"Sorry, sir, I am not at liberty to divulge military information to a Civilian." C-CIVILIAN?! Apos was annoyed, to say the least, but he held off on it in order to keep calm. Calm, yes, calm. He smiled brightly, slipping the ID card out of his pocket and shoving it into the man's face, literally pushing him back about a half-metre. The man blinked and stepped backwards, studying the card with an incredulous gaze, looking back up at Apos and giving a curt bow, "My apologies, Major Rajan! There has been a call for all Amestrian Soldiers; we are to report to Briggs for imminent war with Drachma! The first men have been deployed, it is said that Central's forces are on their way!" Central, huh? Good. Gooood. The man nodded and turned away, waving for the soldier to carry on his path, before walking slowly across the street. Central was there. This meant that Apos could see Spade. He wanted to see Spade. He needed to see Spade. And that meant that he would. With a grin, Apos placed a hand onto the motorbike outside his apartment... and took it off. That was too slow. He needed air travel. Alright, he had an idea. It was large. Convoluted. Possibly arrest-worthy. But it was the only way. The man jumped onto the bike, now sure of himself. He took it off the stance, started it up, and rushed off, feeling the wind travel across his face as he drove at full-speed towards the North City Airport.

Slowing to a stop outside the gate, blessing the fact that he had no need to worry about police in this state of emergency, Apos looked left and right, trying to see if anyone was there. He chuckled and stepped off the bike, sliding into the control room for the gate, opening it up with a small laugh. He got back onto the bike and rode in as the gate slowly closed behind him. Approaching the various aircraft being re-fuelled and made ready for flight, he found himself a particularly nice-looking one. It wasn't too large, and it wasn't too small. It was good. The man nodded internally, and skidded to a stop right in front of him. He smirked and climbed off of the bike, pulling out his ID Card and pushing it into the man's face, just as he'd done with the soldier. Except, this man wasn't as strong, and kinda fell over, unconscious. Hmph. He peered down, and spoke with annoyed words,

"I'm usin' this here helicopter in the name of the Amestrian Military." Taking a bill out of his pocket, he dropped a large sum of money onto the man's chest and climbed into the helicopter. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt that this chopper wasn't returning...

---C H A N G E T R A C K---

"Let's rock." Licking his lips, Apos pulled the starter and grinned wildly. Let it be known here. Apos doesn't have a pilot license. Nor does he know how to fly a helicopter... perfectly. Pulling the throttle backwards, Apos lifted the helicopter slowly into the air, pointing in the general direction of Briggs. Okay, so that went there and... pushing the aircraft forwards, Apos began to head towards Briggs, over the city, looking down. He had enough fuel to get him to Drachma. Looks like this is it. He laughed softly, and whipped out his phone, dialing a number. If he wanted to get there, he needed to let a certain man know of his intentions. He raised the phone to his ear, and waited for someone to pick up, still keeping an eye on the controls of the helicopter as he did so. A second or so later, it was picked up, and through shouts amid the loudness of the chopper, Apos managed to get in something that sounded like:

"COMING...TO...SEE YOU... POSITION?" It was good enough. He waited to hear the reply before nodding and hanging up the phone, placing it back into his pocket. If Spade heard him, good. If not, well shit. He was at Briggs by now, finally crossing into the void between it and Drachma. He had never been here before, you know? So... it was a strange feeling, he thought to himself as he flew over the snowy expanse...

[Guest]

"Unsettling."

Yes! Yes that was the perfect word! Jeu-Hee's mind was all over the place and for the life of her, she couldn't get it to settle. Oh.... How did Xiao feel about supporting her? She hadn't even though of that. She really hoped he wasn't upset! That would be so... awkward... And unpleasant. Following him to the airfield, she too passed off her bag to another soldier there, rather startled as the boy suddenly saluted her with such vigor. Ah! Uh, uh, uh... ugh! WHAT DID THEY SAY?! Oh! Right! "At ease. Please place this into the main airship too." She told him while returning his salute before he ran off, relaxing with a heavy sigh. Oh. My. Ancestors. This was going to be so strange.

Perking up once more as Xiao began to speak, her green eyes blinked twice before nodding in agreement, wondering what in the world she would find.... "An excellent plan. Cause honestly.." She had to half-run a couple of steps to catch up to him, glancing away rather sheepishly. "I wouldn't really know. And if it has changed since the last time I looked over the lists for a negotiation, then I REALLY don't know. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous." And god was she nervous.

Where were they even going? She only had read reports of what they had, spreadsheets and stuff. So she was following him entirely, biting her lower lip slightly as she tightened the ponytail that her hair was in. Maybe she should get it cut.... it was super long... Ack! MISSION! Think of it!

Spoiler:

[Robyn]

Reaver smiled as he could see what they where saying. His eye was so good he could read there lips. A handy skill to pick up really. Slowly walking foreword he clapped his hand slow and deliberately letting the sound echo round them. " Well done Mr Ito." His eye had rolled back revealing the signature symbol of wrath. His lips curled up in a playful smile.

" Hello Duckies." He cooed in a voice sweet as honey laced with arsenic.

The ice crunched as he walked closer and bowed. " My King I came as promised." He said almost unbelieving of the words on his lips. " I must say the trip here was quite delightful. There was a sweet young lad i talked to at length with on the way...Andrew I believe...I hope he lives he must be the most sweetest thing under the bedsheets." He turned to Ito and Reila with the same dangerous smile. Taking Reila's hand he kissed the top like a true gentleman. " Nice to meet you my Queen." He stood tall staring down at her. " You are looking lovely as always. "

[Xiao Yu]

Xiao looked down at Jeu-Hee with a small smile. “It's alright, I'm nervous too.” Xiao clearly did not look nervous, but that was what year's of military training did to a person. He walked alongside Jeu-Hee until they reached the armory. The room was dark and smelled musty. Ah, the wonders of ill-use. If only all countries armories were so untouched. Turning inside he found the light switch and flicked it up. The lights sputtered but gradually the warehouse-styled-armory came into the light. Wow. Talk about antiques. He could see rows of ceremonial swords and.. Ah! “Look. Chu No Ku.” Xiao couldn't resist a chuckle. A section of the warehouse had at least one hundred of the crossbows. Nearby were boxes full of bolts. “Too bad they're out of date. If we add more time I would see about updating them.”

Xiao continued wandering down the rows, finding coming across the artillery guns. There was some larger looking stuff in the back of the armory. Good. They would probably need as much firepower as they could manage. Xiao headed back out of the armory, calling out to a solider. “Hey, you! Come here.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Grab the rest of your battalion and a few others too. We need to load the heavy machinery.” The solider saluted and ran off to grab his comrades. Xiao turned back in and found Jeu-Hee. He sighed and then smiled. “Let's see what we can grab for the Emperor, eh? He did ask for Chu No Ku, after all.”

[Guest]

BOOM

Another body fell lifeless to the ground, their head almost nonexistent. A bullet casing flipped through the air for a few seconds as it came out of the chamber of Gabrielle's sniper rifle, a CheyTac Intervention she calls 'Deathwatch.' "Another one bites the dust," she mumbled as she pulled her head away from the scope. Gabby reached up to play with her hair, only to remember it was stuffed up into the beanie she was wearing. Damn cold, she hated it with a passion. Carraig may not be the warmest place on the planet, but compared to Drachma it was a paradise. Snow, endless snow in every direction. It just kept falling, as if the sky had an unlimited supply just sitting up there, keeping the ground forever white. Did anyone know what the ground looked like here? Or the sun? She wondered this as the harsh wind sent a chill down her spine, making her shiver and shake her head. "Damn cold!" she mumbled under breath. Reaching down, she itched her side through the full body carapace armor suit she wore. Not only was this for protection, but it was white for camouflage, and kept her warm in this irritable weather. On her hip sat the infamous broadsword 'Crimson,' her melee weapon of choice, and on the other side a TDI Vector submachine gun. Strapped to her back were the holster for her Intervention, and her favored M4A1 with a drum mag. On her right leg sat the piece de resistance, her Colt M1911 custom, with silver plating and "Angel" engraved on the side. Lion looked like a walking armory, and an intimidating one at that.

For the last few hours, the RTF had been making slow progress towards the Kremlin, and with the arrival of more Drachmans and even some Esparians, moving forward was slow at best. Gabby had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop, giving ranged sniper support whenever she could. She had already killed at least twenty enemy soldiers, only one had tried to shoot at her. After the complete failure, he found himself dead a few moments later with a sniper bullet in his brain. A shame, he had some balls too. Unlike most of these spineless peons, he actually tried to fight her. Most just ran away, seeing their death before their eyes. Must be scary, but she didn't care. Gabby was there for one reason and one alone, to help the RTF in every way she could. She had only joined them a week or so ago, and this was her first mission with them since she had been ordered to join them as part of the peace agreement between Carraig and Creta. She enjoyed the company though, as she was accustomed to always working alone. It was nice to have someone watching your back, especially such well trained and elite soldiers. The Cretan Royal Task Force was a group to be reckoned with, and Gabrielle's addition to them made it that much worse.

Gabby looked down the scope once again, scouring the battlefield before her for some new prey. As if willed by some higher power, a Drachman militant jumped out from a building, spraying bullets at the Cretan soldiers. Lion set her crosshairs right on his head and said "Got any last words? Say em..." She waited for a moment as if he might answer, and then pulled the trigger. The man's head exploded into a million pieces, brain, blood, and bone going in every direction. She sighed at this however, for this was much too easy. There was no challenge in killing them, they didn't even try to fight back. Suddenly a loud boom caught the agent's attention, causing her to turn and see what the heck that was. The large explosion had come from a missile slamming into an airship, though a closer look showed that the real target had been a much smaller vessel. One of ships, the attacker, looked familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Wonder which one is with us..."

[Guest]

He was? Was he really? Jeu-Hee smiled weakly at his reassurance, summoning up every bit of calm that she could. Right. Weapons. They totally had them. Time to grab them! As the doors opened before them, the dank smell made her wrinkle her nose, happy that she wasn't in her fox form right now. That would just be.... ew no thank you. Coughing a little, she was reminded that she did have a slight allergy to dust, but it wasn't like they would be in here for too long.... Hopefully. Also depended on simply HOW much dust there was. Waving a hand in front of her face as a cloud of dust descended from above, she coughed again and peered onward into the dark--OHTHATWASBRIGHTNOW. Xiao must have found the lights. Which was good. Now they could actually see.

"Wow... Bloody hell..." She muttered, unconscious of the fact she had accidentally switched languages. That.... that was a lot of.... wow. Just how old was some of this? It boggled her mind that they had let such beautiful things rot away in this place, unable to stop herself of thinking of a museum. Thats what this was. Could they even use these safely? It made her bite her lower lip. Blinking, her eyes turned to the numerous rows of crossbows, her eyes seeming to somehow go even wider. It was almost like it didn't register. She followed after him dumbly, her mind numb while trying to figure out just... all of it. Shaking her head almost violently, she snapped back to the present. Right, they were doing important stuff. "You should. Its sad to let them just rot away here." She agreed before turning down a different row to find a bunch of various rifles that almost looked like they too were from a different age.

Had other hands used these before? Would they even do anything against all the newfangled stuff that Carraig was dishing out? Or even what the Drachman's might have? Lever action... Like a Winchester rifle. She remembered firing one once. It was fun! Maybe she should find one and ask someone to update and mod it for her. No, she should focus upon other things. After this whole war business was done, they'd just go back to being peaceful..... right? Her ever soft smile remained upon her lips even though in her mind she had begun to frown rather heavily. The very fact they were going to war meant something was probably going to change, and she didn't know if it would be for the better or worse. Happy! She had to be cheerful! Bubbly. Yes yes, dancing-spinning all about!

Hearing Xiao issuing an order, she made her way back towards him, staring up at him with her bright green eyes. No trace of her heavy thoughts lingered there. No siree! "Aye aye! Though I dunno if I'd trust them. Might need some parts replaced or something." She mused aloud, going to work with him at picking out what was in working order and what wasn't. If nothing else, they might be able to do some repairs on the way there. Probably best to just leave it for now and worry about what could kill. They were just offering support right? And these people had overthrown their previous ruler, right? So... so that meant that they deserved this.... right? Ahhh morality!! Not now!

The half an hour was drawing to a close, the young ambassador looking up as she directed another crateful of rifles to the airships. Touching a hand to her forehead, she sighed and glanced into the armory for Xiao. "Oi! Its almost time to go!" She called to him, backing up towards the doors leading back out to the airfield. So many thoughts whirled about in her mind, briefly focusing most upon one thing as she waited for her second in command on this mission. Would she get to see him?

[Guest]

This place reminded Damos much to much of home. It was rustic yet elegant, antique yet classic. He hated it. No place in all of the Paladin's days reminded him so of the home he hadn't seen in years, and no place deserved to. Arx Invictus was the epitome of all Cleric technological wonders mixed with the ancient and regal design renowned in his Order. He would ensure this place burned to the ground soon enough, but sadly he had bigger fish to fry. Speaking of fish, one seemed to notice his arrival, the man, or thing, known as Aurel. Most knew him as Chaos, a name befitting such a despicable man. "Wouldn't you prefer to be entertained rather than gather dust while everyone else has all the fun?" it said, narrowing his dual colored eyes into a semblance of a glare at Damos. Ha, this thing standing before the mighty Grey Knight of Carafax was but a man. Weak. Insecure. Powerless to the flow of time and the ways of fate. He believed himself to rule over Chaos, but none can master the chaotic, not even the mighty Clerics could claim that victory. This man/creature will die soon, but not yet. His time will come, and Damos would make sure to be there when it did. "I'd rather see you all dead then have to stare at you monstrosities for another second, but I have a higher purpose today," he replied, fire in his eyes. There was no time for formalities or playing nice, nor was there a need. When dealing with monsters, treat them as such.

"Tell me, Vincent, what is your real name and why have you come? Surely, you know the danger of being in our company."

"You do not deserve to hear my noble name, but as you will soon leave this world for the dark and endless pits of Hell, I suppose it would not cause any harm," he said, spitting on the floor as if disgusted by the mere sound of Aurel's voice. "My name is Damos Carafax, son of Dramadus Carafax, High Lord and ruler of the Cleric Order. I am not afraid of you or your little friends, I have fought much worse than you before," he began, his eyes never leaving Aurel's. "I am a Paladin of the Royal Guard, a noble and powerful protector of fate. It is for this purpose that I stand before you monsters, unafraid. Fate protects me," he continued, glancing at Hild, then Vanity.

"Perhaps you would like to watch the show? Tonight, we will be making a philosopher's stone."

Damos gritted his teeth at the mention of this. He knew that was why they had done this, as a distraction. It was all part of their dark a diabolical plan. It hurt the knight to even think of letting this continue, but he could not fight fate. Many before him had learned this lesson the hard way, and he did not plan to be the next to test that. "I have been ordered by the Cleric Council of Invictus to give you a message, but even more so, a warning." Damos stood tall and cleared his throat, preparing to recite the message he had memorized to tell his current company for this very day. "You believe yourselves to be masters of the shadows, rulers of chaos, and denizens of darkness. Yet you do not even know the meaning of control, of true power. WE are the masters of the shadows. WE are the rulers of chaos. WE control this world and what happens, for fate guides us. It protects us, and leads us to a glorious future. You, stand in the way of this. The Lord has let you go unchallenged for far too long, and now his sons and daughters will carry out his command. Your time is short, RIOTE. You have met your match. Watch your back, and be wary of the shadows. For WE, will be watching...waiting... We are the Cleric Order, the legendary knights in grey. Tread lightly, or feel our wrath..." he said, an almost demonic grin on his face. Suddenly Damos burst into an evil laugh that would make a super-villain shiver. Reaching into one of his belt pouches, he threw down a small pellet, exploding into a huge cloud of smoke. Even as he sneaked out, the Cleric could still hear his laughter echo throughout the large room. A grand exit indeed.

Damos hopped into the helicopter sitting just outside the entrance, the craft lifting off as soon as he sat down. He put on the headset and began talking. "I need a status report on Little Black, ASAP."

"Sir," replied a Ranger on the front lines. "She met up with some the Black Templar scouts in the Southern sector of the city and is going with them to meet up with the primary force, which is currently en route. They're smashing through anything that gets in their way, none of the Drachman forces seem to even be phasing them. If we don't do something about it, Jethro Black and his men will arrive here in twenty minutes. Orders?"

Damos sighed. Could they not do anything right? "Do not worry about Big Black, by they time he gets there we will be gone, his men will be dead, and the girl will be ours. I will be there in two minutes, prepare for my arrival," he replied. Carafax cut the connection and leaned back in the chair. Guess I have to do all the dirty work as always. A minute later the chopper landed on a flat rooftop next the battle between the Templars and his Rangers. By the looks of it, they couldn't move on either side. If the Rangers pushed, they were torn to shreds. If the Templars tried to move, a barrage of bullets would smash down on them. It was a stalemate if Damos had ever seen one. He sighed once again and stepped down from the helicopter, strolling across the roof to the side staircase, making his way down at an average pace. It was almost as if he didn't care bullets were flying nearby, or that he was about to charge into battle. He finally got to the ground and walked straight towards the building the Marines were holding up inside, brandishing his halberd menacingly. One, two, three Black Templars fell to his blade before they pulled back inside the building, knowing they were outmatched. All except two went inside. One appeared to be the sergeant of the squad, who was in the middle of a video transmission with someone. How did they get through? Oh well, didn't matter. They'd be dead soon enough. The other was none other than the target herself, Lillian Black. A moment ago she had been talking on the small screen as well, but had turned once she heard Marines dying. Now she glared at Damos with a burning fury, obviously angered by his slaughter of the troopers. In her hands she wielded a deadly looking war scythe, and she knew how to handle it as well. She wouldn't go without a fight, but that much was to be expected from the younger sister of the great Jethro Black.

"Lillian Black, I am Damos Carafax. If you do not come with me peacefully, I will kill every man here without mercy," he began. Before he could finish however, a huge crash to his right broke his attention. He spun towards the intrusion, taken aback by what he saw. "What the hell..."

[Xiao Yu]

Xiao spent the half hour helping the battalions shift as much heavy machinery over to the airships as he could. He then went back into the warehouse, stopping by the Chu No Ku. Hm. He stared at the ancient crossbows. He began to look around through old shelves and boxes, searching for leftover materials. He was compiling a pile of objects when he heard Jeu-Hee call out to him. Shoot. “Coming!” He called back to her, grabbing the arm of a passing solider who was running past him in the warehouse. “Give me a hand with this.”

Xiao lifted one of the better crossbows and a box of bolts, handing them off to the solider. He then lifted up a few hold rifles and some scrap metal, as well as some old tools he had found. His mind was whirling with ideas to bring the Chu No Ku up to date. If he could manage it, it would be an asset for the war and then he could update the hundreds that remained behind. He rushed out of the armory, depositing the materials together in a spare room in the airship. He glanced to make sure he had everything he would need, including a small welding machine. With a small chuckle, he returned to the airfield.

He went and stood beside Jeu-Hee, who appeared distracted. Then again, she always seemed to have her minds on other things. He stood arms clasped gently behind his back, waiting for Ace to appear. It was time to fly for Drachma and war. And a flight to the cold wasteland of Drachma meant that Xiao would hopefully have a few uninterrupted hours to create his newest toy.

[Guest]

. . . Ah yes. War. This was a familiar sensation. No, that's putting it too lightly, as the battlefield would soon expand to cover all of Moscow. This was war, the culmination of mankind's destructive potential. When all power and resource were to be diverted with the sole goal of annihilating the enemy.

THIS ... resonated deeply with him. His fervor to Drachma, his honor to the party, his desire to see RIOTE's victory, none of these sparked deep within his sin-stained body as much as the experience of war. Carnage is everywhere, death is abundant, and mayhem is the new order.

Yes. Yes, yes. YES! This is what he lived for, not for the politics behind the event, but for the action itself. While his heart went out for the revolution's success, and he gladly cheered with all the others for the glory of Drachma and the long-life of their new leader, such things paled in insignificance for this very event. Drachma, through RIOTE's influence, had spat back into the face of Amestris, their declaration of hostility, harbinger of future conflict. That had riled the Amestrian dogs to come. Outside the gates shelling the South Wall, pressing the offensive from multiple sides, infiltration teams within to target the Kremlin, the Amestrian military dogs had come, baying for blood.

Now he, the most unusual of beings stood to watch the plot thicken. Honestly, a good war was like a television drama, daring moves and harrowing tactics from both sides to edge ever closer to victory. Faint peals of laughter issued forth from his clenched fangs, as the Xingese watched Amestrian troops get off of an airship. Honestly, Drachma should have invested in better anti-aircraft weaponry to deal with this, if the Amestrians were going to use one airship to drop off troops, why wouldn't they use more?

A large number of Drachman 'soldiers' noticed this entrance by the Amestrians and were gathering ... to be honest, he'd be lucky if there were any actual soldiers, trained members of the military, holding this position. The notorious jokes about Drachma's poor quality military did have some level of justification, after all. A couple hundred Amestrian troops, well-armed, descended from the aircraft. Drachman soldiers, most being poor countrymen with little experience in the ways of war, weapons thrust into their hands to protect the motherland (not to say that there WEREN'T proper soldiers about, but the bulk is not), proceeded to 'fight.'

"What a mess ..." the misplaced foreigner stated aloud, in his native tongue. It was a habit to speak Xingese when he was alone, now. Still, he had wasted enough time to see how many Amestrian pigs could make their way this far into Moscow. He got his answer, and now he was late to the job. But, at least it gave him a chance to see what the Amestrian army could do: They were well equipped, each were proficient enough with their weapons that they could score more kills than a large number of comrades could return.

The basic law of warfare was being observed, those that could, sought cover to fire out of. Not all these Amestrians were pressing forward to the Kremlin, most were, but a number seemed to be more concerned about surrounding Drachman militants. Buildings would be occupied, abandoned vehicles would serve as makeshift barriers, and gunfire would constantly fill the air.

Now he was done watching.

The Xingese calmly proceeded down the stairs from the top floor of his viewing leisure, as much as he wanted to go and fight passionately for the Motherland, he was overcome with this calm pace, a symbol of his enjoyment of what was happening and what was to come. A few Drachmans had also entered this building, considering it was a little closer to the fight and thus pressured troops fled in-doors, Hei merely walked along. They, in their panic, did not notice him. No one did.

He was Xingese, but he had no memory of his past. An empty shell, yet that sensation was frighteningly familiar. To escape it, he took on a near-fanatical belief in Drachma's greatness and absolute hatred of Amestris. It was strange, how familiar the two things felt (after simultaneously feeling unnatural beyond all belief initially), but that made him a better person for Drachma. He killed, for Drachma. He fought Drachma's enemies. He punished their sinful, and protected their innocent. And with all that he did, despite who he was, he clawed his way up the ranks and earned some measure of respect.

Wherever he came from, he may have had similar renown and martial skill (as well as almost maniacal perception of conflict). He may even have a moniker. But here, he was called darkness, for the cruel lengths that he would go to destroy another life. That, and it may have something to do with that he wore a full-black outfit. Yeah. Maybe it was the latter fact, considering he kept the body armor handy, had it color black, donned a darker cloak for warmth and pretty much obscured his face with a face mask and a moderately sized article of warmth (Scarf). Yeah, that was probably why.

"FOR MOTHER DRACHMA!!!!!" he bellows once he's at ground level and takes off towards the closest set of Amestrian blokes. In his right hand, he clutches a Zweihander that he normally carries for show. Now, he would be using this approximately two meter long blade to kill. An unfortunate group of five had split off from the main force, apparently seeking shelter, comrades, and victory. Under fire, they were turning the corner of a building to avoid the bullets and marched right into the path of the black monster.

Hei had no idea how he looked, but he wasn't going to bother with appearances. After all, the first Amestrian that popped into his face was so god-damn ugly, he was practically asking to get hit. Cut the greatsword of Hei impaling through the unfortunate man's head. A swing upward rips the blade out of the remains of the man's skull, as the others proceed after him. Of the remaining four, three see him and start aim their weapons, the fourth has his back turned. The closest fool to his left is much too close for comfort, and is met with a sharp kick in his side. Technically, it was a lesser-power kick for Hei, but normal men were not meant to take such things unprepared. His trigger finger spasms shortly after impact and the gun fires, spewing bullets randomly, most tearing through Hei's cloak, but fortunately not his body as Amestrian scum #2 knocked Amestrian scums #3 and #4 off their feet as well. #2 lands a minor distance away from the others, #3 attempts to rise but his face is smashed in by Hei's boot, caving in his skull and reducing a sizable portion of his brain to mush. Hei's foot is burrowed deep enough into the unlucky one's head to be certain he did not survive. Four had an easier time as he was already on his knees, Hei decided it was time to play golf with a weighty, double edged sword. #4 would not be getting his head back.

The fifth soldier is still backing up as this all happens, and Hei merely grins beneath the mask. He impales the poor man from the back, aiming center enough to strike through the spine, and does so with enough force that his zweihander's hilt is the only left on his side. #5's right arm relinquishes his firearm, which Hei promptly decide to borrow for a short moment, as his left grabs the blade and his right takes the gun. #2 does not survive, merit of several rounds placed into his head.

All in all, this took the span of a few seconds. No one was really watching, either, too busy shooting at other enemies to be worried. That's not right. Too worried about getting shot to not realize a maniac was prancing about the edges of the battlezone and killing anyone unfortunate to cross paths with him. This was his job, after all, to kill the enemies of Drachma.

It never said in the job description just how exactly he was going to achieve the goal in the first place.

So, Hei was on the move again. As far as he knew, the Amestrian airship had been destroyed ... somehow. Not that he cared. That, and the sun was almost done setting. Night was falling, and the shadows and darkness were becoming more abundant. But one patch of Darkness was always on the move, picking off Amestrian pigs that got in the way in record time and departing the scene to another location.

Yes. He loved war. No. That's sugarcoating it. He loved a good slaughter of Amestrians, every now and then.

[Dai]

”General Tsukino, Mister Ito, what a surprise to see you two here!” That voice. That damned voice. Turning slightly on his heel, Daigoro faced the blonde man with a soft sigh. He was, at this point in time, resisting the urge to turn away and refuse to work with this man; however he knew that doing that would cause a lot of dissent within this shaky alliance that they held. Growling tentatively, Dai nodded curtly at Dietrich's presence, before turning to face the mountains that spread down the way, and into the distance. They were rather precious things, were they not? He could only help but chuckle at this though; a wall that separated two countries that were once allies and now enemies. Was it not strange how quickly one such alliance could fall? Maybe it wasn't, when he looked at his own alliance with Briggs and how quickly he had broken that for the sake of his own wants and needs. N-no, he couldn't think like that now. Instead, he had to stay mentally strong and keep his own focus on the goal. Now, he had received his orders... supposedly. Actually, no, he hadn't. ...do the grunt work, General Tsukino, which I apologize profusely for. Now, how can I be of service to you?” He sighed again, and turned back to look at Dietrich with a lazy eye, studying the King of Creta with slight impudence.

"Ito?" ...eh? Who said his name? Dai slowly turned back, looking over at a man standing nearby to Dietrich, with shocking red hair. Normally, one would tend to make some kind of snarky comment about the state of another's shocking red hair... but Dai had no reason to speak out... considering the state of his own hair, and Reila's to boot. Instead, he would only reply with a "Yes?" The man looked puzzled for a second, before speaking again and causing Dai to step back in what would only be called pure shock, "I am Elastor Ito." Oookay. Hold up here. "Elastor... Ito?" What did that even MEAN? The man was Cretan by blood, that much was obvious. Maybe they weren't even related. Yeah, that'd be more likely. Just a last name thing. Yeah, haha. A comment about being watched, and Elastor's eyes turned towards an approaching silhouette. Hm. He clenched the fist of his left hand, red orbs transfixed on the shape that was slowly starting to come into focus.

"Grunt work suits us, ne Dai? And excuse me, Dietrich, but you are certainly not overdressed; you look exceptional if I must say." He laughed softly, if only for a second. [i]Forgive me if I'm a little tense. An apology was sent to Reila wordlessly, knowing that she wouldn't receive it in the first place, but doing it for mentality's sake. He'd loosen up. He'd see that Dietrich wasn't so bad, and he'd eventually loosen up. If he didn't, it would be a bad thing to have happen. "Aurel, Hild, and Vanity will hardly stay in the capital. Find their hideout." Ah, an order for Dietrich. That seemed like an intelligent enough action. Find the hideout, smoke out the rats. And then, for but a half-second, he felt something brush against his arm. A sleeve. Reila hadn't been that close to him, had she? He blinked, but didn't react, keeping a slightly worried but calm expression the entire time. Even Reila's reaction to the person that was approaching was different to his...

"Lieutenant General? Brigadier General Brighton reporting, Ma'am. This is Lieutenant Colonel Schiwatas, and Second Lieutenant Angelis." WOAH! That wasn't the silhouette! The man stumbled slightly on the spot, turning to look at the dark-skinned woman that had just introduced herself. Ah, Brighton. Recently-appointed Head of South City, correct? She seemed like a good woman; she'd lead well, in his opinion. Add to that the fact that she was Ishvallan, and it seemed like Amestris was finally starting to accept other races. He smiled softly, finally dropping the stony expression that he'd been holding up, nodding calmly and breathing out.

"Well done Mr Ito." Cretan... Wait, that was addressing the OTHER Ito. Gods that was going to confuse him. He breathed out and watched the man approach Reila, kneeling down and kissing her on the hand, " Nice to meet you my Queen. You are looking lovely as always."

"Resist... urge... to... punch... in... face... He's... just... being... polite..." It's okay, Daigoro. It's okay...

[Guest]

They were amused, watching the woman flee rather quickly without as much as a fight. She was smart enough to know not to mess with her, though now the problem would be catching the woman. Troublesome. Very troublesome, indeed.

Trudging through the snow, their mind couldn’t help but wander during the rather mundane task of following tracks through the snow. Things like teddy bears, and tea time, and how best to rip apart the imperialist scum they were chasing down today. Would she be interested in tea time? No, they knew better. They never wanted tea time after being smashed to a bloody pulp. Plus, they reasoned they wouldn’t contribute much to the conversation.

Crashing through a wall, one of their cameras spots a dead soldier in the snow, staining the area around his neck red. The blood still seemed to be flowing, which meant it was somewhat recent, at least. All the better for them, they thought as they burst into another building. There were only more and more buildings the way she was heading, towards Moscow. And this would prove to be their target’s demise.

--------

Swiping at the crates before her, Zina charged her way through the back alley of some shipping center just outside of Moscow, splinters bouncing off the armor of Berserker harmlessly. She had managed to get a few glimpses of her quarry, and was pretty sure she was on track with her. She had been putting off the engagement for too long. Now, she thought, it was time.

Altering her course to the left, she charged into one of the storage buildings, seemingly unhindered by the cinderblock wall and various boxes. Keeping her momentum, she soon crashes through the brick wall on the other side of the building. ”Oh yeah!” she roars in a deep voice through the suit’s speakers, eyeing Rebecca in front of her. A slight miscalculation, but nothing too serious. She had things under control.

Raising an arm forward, three hooks shoot towards Rebecca, though each scattered and missed, digging into the asphalt. Grunting with disapproval, she wills the wenches to retract the hooks, pulling out chunks of the road with them.

”Nationalist, let me teach you how to die like the dog you are!” she shouts after the Cretan, readying another barrage of her grappling hooks.

[Guest]

” Aurel, Hild, and Vanity will hardly stay in the capital. Find their hideout.”

”Of course, General Tsukino. Right away.” Turning back and giving a quick set of hand signals to one of the men in the APC, the soldier nods. All-in-all, one of the easier tasks her could be given at the moment. But for now, there was more to do.

”Good to see you’ve brought along some friends,” he says, referencing the buildup of Amestrians of particular interest. He watched intently as one of them stepped forward and gave a salute to Reila.

"Lieutenant General? Brigadier General Brighton reporting, Ma'am. This is Lieutenant Colonel Schiwatas, and Second Lieutenant Angelis."

”Pleasure to meet you three, though excuse me if I don’t salute,” he says, bowing his head slightly towards them. This stretch of highway seemed… crowded all of the sudden. Shifting slightly, he peered over to the side as one more guest arrived. Looks like he had picked a rather popular place to be.

”Hello Duckies.” Ah, so he had arrived. ”My King I came as promised,” he adds.

”A pleasure to see you here, and under such conditions. I’m certain I can find some means of repaying you for coming here on such short notice. But we’ll discuss that another time, won’t we?”

Looking over at Dai, he notices… Anger? Agitation? With a slight shrug, he looks back to the group at large. ”As pleased as I am that I’ve brought you all here to this quaint stretch of highway, I’m afraid that standing around isn’t very productive. Now, while my… men are scanning the area, I’m sure we can make some use of this ‘spare’ time. I imagine we won’t have long before we have to jump into action.”

((Note: So, whenever the hideout is found, someone else can bring that up if need be. Just giving the option here.))

[Guest]

In this life, there are two things that are quite annoying to Vanity. One, someone who doesn't know what in the world they are talking about. Two, someone who underestimates her true ability. Both these annoyances where coming out of that jabbing idiot, Vincent.

"I'd rather see you all dead then have to stare at you monstrosities for another second, but I have a higher purpose today," The moment his mouth began moving, Vanity tuned him out. She let the worthless being rant to his little hearts desire. His voice was trying to be demanding, as if he were attempting to take charge of the situation, when in reality he was losing his grip on reality.

"Oh, I am so hurt!" Vanity sarcastically gestured, placing her hand over her heart as she winks at Hild. It was apparent that Vincent was focusing primarily on Chaos.

"Tell me, Vincent, what is your real name and why have you come? Surely, you know the danger of being in our company." Chaos, her brother, spoke up directly. Now his voice was deep and powerful in their company. Vanity shifts her eyes from her brother to Vincent, knowing he would say some pointless comment.

"You do not deserve to hear my noble name, but as you will soon leave this world for the dark and endless pits of Hell, I suppose it would not cause any harm." He bitterly yelped before spitting on the ground.

It took all her being not to attack this man at that moment. Instead she grit her teeth and glares her makeup covered eyes at him. With a fluid motion she approaches the man casually, standing a few feet in front of Aurel in a protective manner.

"My name is Damos Carafax, son of Dramadus Carafax, High Lord and ruler of the Cleric Order. I am not afraid of you or your little friends, I have fought much worse than you before. I am a Paladin of the Royal Guard, a noble and powerful protector of fate. It is for this purpose that I stand before you monsters, unafraid. Fate protects me." As the pitiful man attempted to stand firm in his ground, Vanity causally laughs. With each laughter, the homunculus releases toxin into the air. With a light blow of her breath, the poisonous gas would soon be inhaled by Vincent in a matter of seconds.

"Such a shame. Such a shame that you’re revolting or else I'd say it was somewhat cute how you rambled on about your honor..." Alena snickers as each word escapes her lips. Every single word spoken by the homunculus was deadly. The more she spoke, the more poison was released into the air.

"Yet you do not even know the meaning of control, of true power. WE are the masters of the shadows. WE are the rulers of chaos. WE control this world and what happens, for fate guides us. It protects us, and leads us to a glorious future. You, stand in the way of this. The Lord has let you go unchallenged for far too long, and now his sons and daughters will carry out his command. Your time is short, RIOTE. You have met your match. Watch your back, and be wary of the shadows. For WE, will be watching...waiting... We are the Cleric Order, the legendary knights in grey. Tread lightly, or feel our wrath..." So he was threatening them? Such a strong threat, by empty actions to back it up. She so badly wanted to kill him, but what fun would that be? Vanity raises her hand to keep Aurel and Hild back. This was her time in the spotlight, and she felt like it was her duty to erase this hideous creature from the earth.

The moment he finishes his grand finale, the man exits. However, the truth be told, he never actually left. Instead, everything he was seeing was an illusion. The toxin she exhaled caused whoever inhaled its substance to hallucinate. Vincent was trapped in a vision, and Vanity knew she didn't have long before Hild and Aurel would begin to hallucinate as well.

"Here, take these." Vanity turns pulls out a small tissue from her bra cup. "It has two pills that will keep you both from having illusions." She tosses the tissue to Chaos, grinning to herself before turning back to her play toy. The gorgeous woman walked ever so lightly back to the man, and pulled out her small dagger from the strap around her thigh. Her finger gently grazes his cheek bone as he stands there trapped in an alternative state of mind. The rough patches of skin tinglesher fingers as she rubs over his facial hair.

"Lillian Black, I am Damos Carafax. If you do not come with me peacefully, I will kill every man here without mercy," Who was this Lillian woman he was talking too? His face and voice were strong with disgust, and it was interesting. Her fingers soon trail down to his lips. The red, chapped skin was smooth as Vanity touches it. "What the hell...?" His mumble was a sign that he was coming back to reality. She knew it would not be that much longer before he was fully awoken. With the dagger in her grasp, Vanity ejects the blade into his spine near his tailbone. Blood puddles ooze out of his back onto the marble floor. A thick crimson red was staining the ground as he stood helpless.

“Next time hun, maybe you should think before you speak.” The same blade she used to spew the guts of Loki, she had just used to cut the nerves of Vincent. The blade was engraved with poison that would ruin anything within the human body, in this case, it was his spinal fluid that would be filled with poison. Vanity uses another tissue from her bra cup to wipe the blade clean of any blood, and turns to the other too.

"Come on brother, let’s have some fun now.” She pauses and smiles at Aurel, knowing clearly what she had just done. Revealed herself to be his sister. “I've done part of my job here, and I’m certain he won’t be walking away." Part of her grimace was knowing that this man would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life and the other half was knowing Aurel finally knew the truth.

[Guest]

The sound of those pounding footsteps reached her ears still, their slow gait still of concern to her. Yes, it was run by a computer. But wasn’t that computer also hooked up to the girl? What the hell should she do? An EMP grenade might have repercussions that she couldn’t foresee right now. Would that cause the death of this Zina that was within the suit? Should she just not care? This was war after all. No… that just really didn’t set well with her at all. No killing of children. Final. End of line.

BOOM. BOOM. What the hell was that?

Could lose precious time looking back. Ah hell, she had to. Skidding slightly in the snow, she slid as she made a hard turn down a side-street, diving into a roll as gunfire rang out where her head had been moments before. God dammit all! What the bloody hell…. Whatever. Sliding her hand into the pouch of mines at her side, she activated it right as she threw it at the man to the left of the pair while pushing herself up to run to her left between some buildings. An explosion rang out behind her along with a rather good rendition of the Wilhelm scream. Hehe. Serves them right. Least the gunfire had stopped.

A moment or two later she burst out onto a thankfully deserted street, glancing to the buildings in front of her and the street on either side. *krssh* "Tali. We're compromised. Prepare to fall back to the Normandy." *krrshh* Bugger. That didn’t bode well at all. She glanced up to the sky and saw the trails of the ships flying over them, a grimace forming over her lips beneath her helmet. “Understood Shep. Reporting to--”

BOOM

Aw fuck.

Bursting out of the building in front of her came the mecha suit, instinctively bringing up her arms while jumping back to try to avoid debris. Just what she needed. A close encounter. Bugger! Grappling hooks shot out towards her, bringing out a knife to try to deflect, as stupid as that would be. With the velocity at which they were moving, it would more likely fling the blade from her hands. Dodging, she watched as they embedded into the concrete and took a deep breath. Ok, think fast Rebecca, what the hell do you do? The hooks were retracted back, having to shift her feet as the ground was pulled up with them. She seriously doubted bullets would even penetrate that thing. Well, maybe a .50 cal from an anti-material rifle, but like she had one of those handy. If only there were some sort of space shifter that created a pocketed dimension of sorts that could hold—

“Nationalist, let me teach you how to die like the dog you are!”

What the—Huh? Don’t think, just do! Drawing out an EMP grenade, she forced a chuckle, smirking beneath her helmet. The purple haze that obscured her face faded so that she could be seen by her adversary, calculating how this timing would go. “Oh be still moy wounded ‘eart! ‘ink you really struck a nerve ‘ere.” And with that, she pulled out the pin and threw one grenade, immediately running like hell to the left while jumping over the craters and rubble left by that first attack.

Drawing out her pistol, she fired a couple of precious shots towards the “face” of the thing (if it you could call it that) as a hopeful distraction. Her eyes didn’t leave the imposing figure of her opponent, drawing out another grenade and flicking the pin off before it soared through the air towards Zina. If she got close, she could issue some sort of command upon physical contact, but did she really want to risk that? Spinning on her heel, she curled around the corner to the right, slowing as she knew she couldn’t keep running forever. Drawing out a rather unique mine, she pressed the center light and flung it onto the corner of the building she had just passed. It stuck, the light blinking faintly to show that it was indeed armed. Backing up, the purple haze returned and her face was hidden from view, crimson eyes glancing about for something she could use to her advantage. Bugger it all this was not good.

[Spotlight]

"Uh... Alex. Don't know if you knew it or not, but I'm kind of in flight to Drachma already. Leading the Kanama Minutemen. Eh, I might be able to find you there? I don't know. I'll try, is all I can say. But the fifty civilians I'm bringing into combat will have to come first. Hope you understand. But there is a back-up chopper in Kanama still. Hitch a ride, and go, man, go! Over and out." Yea Jay you don't think i would come without a plan do you. Let me just break out something i got a while back and meet you there.
At that moment he knew she gave him a smile. Taking his jacket he dug for the key in the pocket. Taking out a key he drove down at the usual speed around 150 miles per hour. he was gonna go to the airfield. Loading up his bike onto his Nighthawk. He then got to the Cockpit and got clearance. a hour or two later he arrived in Drachma still flying he had a back up pilot but they were asleep. He smiled as the second pilot came up and prepared to drop him onto the battle field. He got to the cargo bay he had a parachute on and he jumped diving down was a rush. As he fell at about one hundred something mile per hour he countinued to fall. The air blew his air and his jacket back. He had his gloves on over his new automail. The green automail was light and as he came down he pulled the cord and a chute came out and he landed about a hundred yards from jay. Taking his chute off he burned the remains. The ash left in a neat pile with only the metal left Alex picked them up and put them in the pocket of his jeans. He then countinued to walk to catch up with Jay and her soldiers.

[Elastor Ito]

Though the response was rather...drawn over by the closer appearance of one bizarre figure who did not give his name, the swordsman in all black clearly heard the shocking phrase uttered by Daigoro Ito: "Elastor... Ito?" Ela frowned and fondled the hilt of his sword while his ears picked up the elaborate words spilling out of the mouth of the inhuman one. It was a man who looked as if he had walked into the wrong century...and climate. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in reaction. Instead, he moved from his very strategic position next to his King to an even better position in defense against the--the one who had...called him a--a Duckie. He shivered in sheer astonishment and passed the motion off as the wind cutting through his trench coat through the holes between the silver buttons. Cold-stained eyes darted from his figure of unease and settled roughly on the other male redhead. The ever-present red hair between the three of them made him feel...oddly normal. But still... He clenched his hilt and nearly growled with frustration, holding back all will to demand the other man's name that now kissed the hand of Reila Tsukino. He saw unease form on the Daigoro's demeanor and sensed the tension grow if only slightly. His thumb inched below the hand guard. Nothing happened.

Except... "A pleasure to see you here..." The tension vanished from Elastor and he then returned his halfed attention to the strange akinness exhibited by their share in surname. Others had also come and stood somewhere to the side of Reila. He merely heard a sing-song voice announce their arrival as well as Lord Dietrich's welcome that involved the word "friends", which meant that their existence was not a threat. He let go of his katana altogether and took a single step in the direction of Daigoro. Violet eyes assessed the condition of the other's mental state (in order to confirm he wasn't about to tear off said nameless man's head). His eyelids twitched to slits and he thought deeply before replying to their earlier conversation. Also, it was an educational moment for his recently-obtained ability to hold decent conversation in Amestrian. He placed his hands on the shorter man's shoulders and looked intensely at him. "By whom did you acquire that surname? I must know. Tell me." There was no threat, but the mere fact that he touched an Amestrian would, of course, indicate aggression in their overly rash logistics. He sighed and stepped away, letting his arms drop and looking to the side where his sight caught blond. The simple movement of touching another person in general was something Ela rarely did. To any that knew the man, (and only Dietrich was present), would see that he was clearly bothered by the fact that there were two very apparent similarities between him and a mongrel Amestrian from Briggs. Daigoro Ito...who are you?.

His eyes focused and the blond he had typically passed off as the Ishvallan South City Head now shifted to the side where a girl stood in all of her glorified navy blue uniform that Ela knew so well... He held up a finger to silence the thoughts and/or verbal dialogue coming from Daigoro and whispered an apology and a hyperbole of short time before he crossed the distance between him and this girl. Angelis...now it was familiar...because it was the component of Csilla... Never to see each other again...after he made her cry? Those tears--that made him want to cut something down to block it out--to make it stop. He sucked in a sharp breath and side-glanced Dietrich to make sure he hadn't died on his watch. Let them talk--all the heads...the important people who fit whatever roles the citizens shaped for them--the tyrants of war and spillers of fresh, enemialistic blood. He walked straight up to Csi and then forgot what exactly he had been planning. Why? Well, because he hadn't planned anything. Inward panic seized through him until he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and then formally...regretted it. "I'm sorry." He could have started off much better...

[Reila Tsukino]

”Of course, General Tsukino. Right away.” Insert random array of hand motions here... She opened her mouth to reply, but then cheery words and a salute interrupted all thought processes that were about to take place.

"Lieutenant General? Brigadier General Brighton reporting, Ma'am. This is Lieutenant Colonel Schiwatas, and Second Lieutenant Angelis."

Kyaaaa! New people that Spade told her about!! Well, Shula at least. She immediately removed herself from being stuck to Dai's side and paraded in the deep snow over to the Ishvallan with a wide smile typical of Reila regardless of that fact that they were in the middle of a battle zone. She brushed stray hair that had brutally escaped her pony tail out of her eyes and reached out that hand for her to shake. "Hellooo, Shula I've h--" Oh shit. She slipped. And face-first, the momentum dragged her at the newly appointed Head of South City. What a way of first impressions... Reila's weight toppled the Ishvallan and both descended towards the snowbanks. However, Reila wasn't the Ice Queen for nothing. The instant her fingers touched the snow, the entire area around them glowed a bright blue in the darkness. The light reflected through her golden irises, sharpening as concentration overtook her mind. In less than a second, Shula fell into an elaborate, queenly chair padded with snow and shaped with ice to prevent any sort of injury. Then...!! Crunch. Her face was in snow. It was so cold it hurt... Itttttatatatatatata!! She pulled herself up to her feet and pretty much had a beard.

"Oops..." She laughed and placed a hand behind her wet head for good measure as the snow melted and dripped off her chin. Flushed cheeks along with the messy strands of bangs accented the embarrassed look in her eyes as she bowed her head. "I'msosorry!! The snow is coarser here than at Briggs..." A glance at Dai. "It's a pleasure to meet you all..." She nodded at Csilla and Acra and grinned sheepishly. "Let's win this." She raised a fist only to have it stolen away by...by!! The silhouette man!? She nearly unsheathed her tachi and toppled his head. Instead, she froze like her own creation and stared at him in what could only be described as sheer shock. "Who--" Reiled stammered before she was cut off by:

"...Nice to meet you my Queen. You are looking lovely as always." Who was this guy and what gave him the right to-- He. Just. Kissed. Her. Hand. Reila had a mini heart attack and almost fell back from whence she came in the knee-high Drachman snow. Instead, she wheeled backwards, blocking his path to Shula and the others. Her eyes blazed and she grabbed the stranger's lips before he had a chance to recoil from his kiss. He was bent over into her vice grip with the inability to now speak such conniving words. "Who do you think you are?" Reila blurted, oblivious to the initial reaction that she sounded extremely narcissistic. "I am no Queen. I belong not to Creta nor to the system of kingship. For your information, I am merely the Head of Fort Briggs. I answer to the citizens of Amestris. Who are you?" She let go of his lips and shot Dietrich a cold glance that almost seemed to whisper how-could-you-seek-assistance-from-such-a-man. She placed her hands on her hips and glared levelly at silhouette-man. "Always...so lovely? I believe we have not yet met, sir. Perhaps you should introduce yourself. We are in the middle of a war you know."

"As pleased as I am that I’ve brought you all here to this quaint stretch of highway, I’m afraid that standing around isn’t very productive. Now, while my… men are scanning the area, I’m sure we can make some use of this ‘spare’ time. I imagine we won’t have long before we have to jump into action.”

Reila turned immediately to meet Dietrich's eyes with a canny smirk. Nice save. "And what might you be suggesting?"



[Dai: Post with Hild, Dei/the Normandy (Momo/Toss = waiting), and GET ACE TO SPADE BEFORE THIS MISSION HITS 49348395329 PAGES!!
Other people: POST ESPARIA DAMMIT. WTF are they doing?!
Jokun: IVANKA, GO.
DON'T FORGET TITLES IN YOUR POSTS, PEOPLE!]

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Hmm higher purpose? Aurel slammed the old, wooden door shut and pushed off from it, his attention perfectly averted to what held much more intrigue. And the intensive struggle began between the two men's gazes as meaningless words passed through the small distance between them. Aurelius could already sense the waves of wrath wafting off of the homunculus of another sin: Vanity. It was amusing to say the least. However, the variance of the words being spoken and at such a length began to grate on whatever aloofness that Aurel held for the man. It irked him. And it felt almost as if... this man, Damos Carafax, was picking a fight. Puh-ha, a fight with Aurelius Carston Schwarz? By god, this man was derranged.

...He loved it.

Aurel opened his mouth to retort with his so eager venomous words, however, a pill was suddenly thrust towards him along with silk words, wooing him into that of a simple bystander. He accepted graciously by taking the pill from the outstretched hand and ensuring that Hild did as well before observing the power of an incarnate of Father himself. "Don't kill him," he whispered, utterly submissive to whatever she saw fit as punishment. Regardless of her plan, Aurel still beheld one of his own. A rueful smirk gathered on his lips as he witnessed the hallucination taking root in the self-absorbed man. It was all he could do to keep himself from laughing out loud. Oh yes, "what the hell, indeed."

“Next time hun, maybe you should think before you speak.” Aurel's hand twitched at the sight of the blade, thinking maybe she hadn't heard his quiet order. But as she injected the metal into the flesh of the man's spine, Aurel understood all too clearly. The smirk increased to such that his fangs nicked at the edges of his lips, drawing blood that slithered into the corners of his lips. Black boots clacked across the open hall and stopped at the crumbled form of a man who had a 'higher purpose.' Aurel stared into his clearing eyes with mismatched fury, lifting the man's chin to ensure he was conscious enough for a speech of his own. But the same voice halted him again, this time with something akin to bewilderment.

"Come on brother, let’s have some fun now.” The rest was a muted blur of what he already knew. He let go of the man's chin and turned his head with a whip of long, black hair. What did you just say, his look entailed. And he even shifted his focus to Hild in the background to ensure that he had not hallucinated the tone of voice to be Vanity's. Brother? Him? He turned back to Damos, making a mental note to seek clarification on the issue of using said pronoun out of context. They were 'brothers in arms,' but that is not to say he could be called as such so casually... It made him writhe inside, if only slightly, at the thought of what that word did to his beloved Hild. "Indeed," he repeated flawlessly, without a hint of the shock her single sentence performed upon his mind.

"Your noble name has been spoken, Damos Carafax, but it is one I have not heard, therefore it warrants no mirth I'm afraid. I would like to know when it is that I will leave this world as you have so declared? Be it that you can see the future, O'mighty clairvoyant?" Aurel laughed viciously, throwing a hand over his red eye and crazily meeting Damos' eyes from where he bled out on the floor. "I want to die. It would be a...pleasure to know when--if it's coming soon. But I will not die in battle, for any battle I fight is already planned to accomplish victory. Please forgive, but you have never fought me nor are you aware of what I possess, so your presumptuous statement is false; you have fought no one like me before." Aurel's polite attitude quickly changed as he brought himself down to the man's eye level, leaning but further into the realm of the paralyzed. His voice shrunk to a deep shrill of a whisper, banking on the edges into a full-blown growl. "Do not tell me what I believe." He gently took the knife from Vanity and ran his tongue along the entirety of it, swallowing the blood to quench his thirst.

"We are not the masters of the shadows nor the rulers of chaos-- although my name has predominated that. We control not the world nor what happens. WE are RIOTE, the bearers of divine judgement--peace-holders scouring the shadows for slivers of hope left on this Earth. Be you the shadows, you are that which hides from light. What is your Lord, that of darkness?" Aurel clutched at the man's wrist and drew the knife to the flesh where he carved an 'R' with glowing eyes. "That I've found a match overjoys me. As you may have overheard, we were growing bored without a challenge." 'I' "I am also grateful for the honor of bestowing this lesson upon you, Dear Damos. Think of it as a gift." 'O' "From me to you..." 'T' "And know...that whenever you're watching, we've already planned for you to see." 'E'.

[Shula Brighton]

Over the course of her life and career, Shula had heard many things about Fort Briggs and its leader, Reila Tsukino. It was no secret that for more than a century, Briggs had been one of the strongest points in Amestris, and that if they felt like it, Briggs could easily overtake Central. That Drachma dared not cross the mountains because of Briggs. How the soldiers of Briggs never yielded to anyone or anything. She'd heard of Reila, and her ferocity in battle. Her cunning battle strategies and tactics. Shula'd heard Reila... make an adorable noise, watched her superior walk toward her and in the span of a breath slip across the ice and deep snow and plow into her. Shula let out a small, surprised yelp, confused at the bright flash of blue, and then more confused as she seemed to fall on a rather lovely chair made entirely of ice and padded with snowy cushions. Large red eyes blinked in utter confusion, especially as her brain registered that she was in a chair and Reila's face was covered in snow.

She withheld the urge to giggle slightly once everything had fully registered as she moved off the ornate piece of cold but oddly comfortable art. She moved to try and assist Reila up, the deep snow seeming all the more deep in the drift. Finally the sound emerged, innocent and warm, and completely not belonging at such a sugh a dark, cold and dangerous place. The great leader of Briggs... actually seemed kinda sweet. "Oops... I'msosorry!! The snow is coarser here than at Briggs... It's a pleasure to meet you all... Let's win this." Shula moved to Acra's side after Reila righted herself, the tall redhead seeming more at home in the snow that Shula would ever be. Winning this and going home where it was warm sounded like the best plan she'd heard all week.

The tight black leather gloves that covered Shula's tiny hands brushed the snow from her body. "That's okay! I always wanted to see snow..." Shula looked around the stretch of highway at the deep drifts and banks that had been cleared aside and frozen over, loving the way the light refracted off the snow like tiny stars on the endless white and let out another small laugh. "I think I wished a little too hard, though." Shula looked up around at the people also attending this little meeting. A red-haired man that had been standing beside Reila, and another red-haired man who had been standing beside the tall blonde man who looked important. That must be the Cretan king.. Not wanting to be rude, Shula pressed her palms together as though in prayer and brought her hands up toward her chin. She bowed her head slightly at the man though her eyes didn't move away. "Namaste," she greeted politely and quietly. Even if he didn't hear her or acknowledge the foreign greeting, she herself felt better for having been polite.

Shula glanced around, the angry-looking red-haired man no longer beside the man she assumed was the king, puzzled as to why he was now at Csilla's side. They hadn't announced why Csilla was there with them yet, unless Spade had told Reila beforehand... Csilla looked stunned and he looked... well, scary and grumpy. She looked forward again, about to ask as she observed womthing very odd. Relian holding the lips of another strange man. She didn't seem too pleased with him, at any rate. Looking down at herself, she could see where some of the snow wanted to start melting into the wool of her uniform, and then looked to her gloves. Her hands were covered by tight black leather gloves to keep them from frostbite, and her fire bracelets worn on top. It wasn't snowing right now, but there was snow everywhere... and snow would easily wear off the powder coating from her bracelets and stop her from making fire. Her location was completely against her element, and even though she'd brought more saltpetre with her it was only a matter of time before she ran out of powder or it was too wet to give any friction for a spark. Wonder if I can raid a gas station for a lighter... I'm going to be as useful as a wet match soon. Shula sighed faintly, stepping closer to Acra and tugging on the fabric of his jacket's sleeve gently. Her voice lowered, meant for just Acra to hear, the girl's expression uneasy and somewhay sheepish.

"Hey, Acra? I'm not sure what your orders are but... do you think you could, um..." She fidgeted, trying to swallow her pride completely and ask for help when she knew she'd need it. In South she didn't have anyone to call on for help and got left behind... She couldn't make that mistake again. "Listen, the moisture from the ice and snow here are going to really limit my fire-making, and I may well run out of fuel before this is done... So I kinda.. need to stick close to you, if I can. Otherwise I'm going to be kind of defenseless when I run out of ammo for my gun and my fire..."

[Guest]

Hee... the girl was starting to wobble a little on her feet as they arrived in the great mountain hideout. Her exposed eye twitched slightly from the anticipation, and she followed Aurelius into the main room, hiding small and pained giggles from behind her slightly-pursed lips. She wanted to do something. Kill something. Ravage it's body with bullets, KYAHAHA, it was all to good to imagine! The very thought of taking one of those FOOLISH Amestrian soldiers and eviscerating them... slowly... Oho, it was utterly beautiful to her ears. She felt herself drooling slightly too, just imagining it. The blood. The guts. The carnage. It would all be amazing. The girl gave another giggle, hiccuping slightly and stumbling a little more, biting her lip and chuckling, "Wouldn't you prefer to be entertained rather than gather dust while everyone else has all the fun?" She nodded, her gaze turning turning towards the screen as the man Vincent Alexander approached the main hall. Oho. Ohohoho. She grinned wildly, and made slow and animal-like strides towards Aurelius, watching over his shoulder and placing a single hand onto his back, "Isn't that glorious, Hild?" She nodded and retreated, as if she was simply a panther retreating into the darkness; ready to strike when the "hunter" least expected it. Vincent Alexander. That was not his name, was it? She gave a cry of joy, stepping backwards and watching carefully, through an eye that could only be described as shaking.

"Tell me, Vincent, what is your real name and why have you come? Surely, you know the danger of being in our company." Oh, Aurelius. He was the one that was always in control. Though Hild may be a puppet-master of her own, she had no way of standing up to the greatness of her love. A smile, and she licked her lips, slowly curving around objects, past the great wooden door, and watching down the stairs herself, seeing Vincent Alexander there. Eheh. Eheheheheh~ "Perhaps you would like to watch the show? Tonight, we will be making a philosopher's stone." She giggled, and looked back at him with an eye that could only be described as hungry, "Oh, Aurel. Do you not know? It's so rare for the star of a show to see it firsthand~" The words that left her mouth were dulcet and sultry, low, yet loud enough to echo down to the ears of the Grey Knight, "You do not deserve to hear my noble name, but as you will soon leave this world for the dark and endless pits of Hell, I suppose it would not cause any harm," Hah, noble. Was it noble to walk into the den of wolves? Was it nobility to be called as such? She did not think that. She thought that a man who referred to himself as 'noble' was simply a fool, playing Lord, "My name is Damos Carafax, son of Dramadus Carafax, High Lord and ruler of the Cleric Order. I am not afraid of you or your little friends, I have fought much worse than you before, I am a Paladin of the Royal Guard, a noble and powerful protector of fate. It is for this purpose that I stand before you monsters, unafraid. Fate protects me," Hild spoke once more, letting her intentions be known, "Fate? Fate brought you into this Hall of Shadows, false noble." She stood from her position, and despite being without sound mind, her petite form brought with it a different kind of 'imposing'. Despite looking like she would never be able to hurt a fly... Hild was scary. Just standing there, that woman could be called frightful, the sheer aura of disgust that she was giving off. This man was no NOBLE. He was a child, playing dress-up with a sword.

"I have been ordered by the Cleric Council of Invictus to give you a message, but even more so, a warning." Oh? A message? Invictus? What was all of this? Was she supposed to be scared? Was this supposed to scare her, or Aurel, or Vanity? She grinned with a cruelty beyond no other, and watched through an eye that spoke droves, "You believe yourselves to be masters of the shadows, rulers of chaos, and denizens of darkness. Yet you do not even know the meaning of control, of true power. WE are the masters of the shadows. WE are the rulers of chaos. WE control this world and what happens, for fate guides us. It protects us, and leads us to a glorious future. You, stand in the way of this. The Lord has let you go unchallenged for far too long, and now his sons and daughters will carry out his command. Your time is short, RIOTE. You have met your match. Watch your back, and be wary of the shadows. For WE, will be watching...waiting... We are the Cleric Order, the legendary knights in grey. Tread lightly, or feel our wrath..." And then he laughed. Of everything, he laughed. Hild actually had to stifle a yawn. Was that cliche or WHAT? Oh, and then he had the impudence to use a smoke bomb? Cliche. So, so cliche.

"Here, take these. It has two pills that will keep you both from having illusions." Hild was handed her pill, and swallowed it quickly, not worried about whether or not it was dangerous; she trusted Vanity enough. When the girl did her job, Hild couldn't help but giggle, dancing around his form on the ground. She moved left, right, speaking in a slightly sing-song voice, "Y'can't walk now, y'can't walk now~" She giggled, and placed a hand onto one of her weapons, before stepping away as Aurelius approached; Hild regaining her composure, ignoring Vanity's comment about 'brother'. She growled softly, and listening to Aurelius speak, felt the heat rise within her body. Seeing him like this, feeling the pure cruelty that came off of him, she wanted to just throw her head back and laugh! "Your noble name has been spoken, Damos Carafax, but it is one I have not heard, therefore it warrants no mirth I'm afraid. I would like to know when it is that I will leave this world as you have so declared? Be it that you can see the future, O'mighty clairvoyant?" Psh. Noble name. That was a load, I want to die. It would be a...pleasure to know when--if it's coming soon. But I will not die in battle, for any battle I fight is already planned to accomplish victory. Please forgive, but you have never fought me nor are you aware of what I possess, so your presumptuous statement is false; you have fought no one like me before." She chuckled, and watched him bring the knife towards his tongue, running it across that. Oh, how she wished that she was holding that blade.

She would first run it down his chest, making the smallest possible incision. Not enough to bleed, but enough to hurt, or at least tickle. She would then take it to the top again, and run the blade down that same line. Again, again. She would do it again, again. And with each small cut, the incision would grow. It would eventually start to hurt more, as nerves get severed, and vessels get cut. Blood would start slow, and eventually pour out. It would be the color that everybody saw, nobody wanted. Except for her. She would lick it off his chest, savor the taste of his blood. She was no vampire, she just appreciated the taste of blood. The metallic tang against her tastebuds, she would savor it with every lap. And as she cleaned him, she would cut more. She would make the cut deeper, and deeper, until she felt something solid beneath the tip. Bone. Oh, bone. It was so needed, and yet so unimportant. She would take the knife then, and drive it into the bone, cracking the sternum down the centre. Yes, it would work, she had already put a line into it, it would break down the line with ease, and when combined with her strength, it would make the only thing that bones were good for. A crack. A crack in the surface. Heh. Then, she would leave the chest. She would let that area bleed, occasionally licking the blood off the flesh to keep him clean. Yes, yes, she would do that. That was a good way of dealing with people. Then she would go to his legs, and start cutting. Cut, cut, cut. Slice, slice, slice. She wouldn't be so slow with this. She would just cut, from the feet up. She would keep cutting, making sure to avoid the vital arteries. Death would be welcome by the time she was done. Cut, cut, cut, cut. She would cut all the way up to the top of the legs, and then go onto the arms, doing the same thing. Cut, cut, cut, cut. She wondered if it would make him scream in pain. Probably not. He seemed to be "strong". But how long would that last, she pondered. Once she was done there, she would return to his chest, and carve the letters RIOTE into his torso. Yes, it had to be then. Once she had done what she could to his arms and legs, then RIOTE would go into his torso. Not the forehead. The forehead was sacred, to Hild. It required the greatest works of art. Yes, the Amestrian Lion would go there. Something she picked up. She would take it slowly, getting the details perfect, watching the blood run down his face, over his eyes, into his mouth. He would be screaming by now. He would certainly be in pain. She wanted to make him in pain. And then the logo was finished, she would look him deeply in the eye, and plunge the knife into the skull, directly into the Lion that she had just created. The bones would crack, and the blade would pierce the brain. He would be writing for a few seconds, and then he would slowly die. It would be glorious, and far more NOBLE than his foolish name...

But alas, Aurelius wished him to be alive. And as she snapped out of her daydream, Aurel had the man's hand in his own. What was he doing, she wondered, --e you the shadows, you are that which hides from light. What is your Lord, that of darkness? That I've found a match overjoys me. As you may have overheard, we were growing bored without a challenge. I am also grateful for the honor of bestowing this lesson upon you, Dear Damos. Think of it as a gift. From me to you... And know...that whenever you're watching, we've already planned for you to see." Blood was flowing down Damos' arm, it seemed that Aurel was carving something in there? When he stepped away, Hild walked over to Damos, and knelt down before the man, watching him with that eye. Reaching up behind her head, she pulled off the eyepatch, and the red and gouged eye was revealed, pulsing slightly from the blood, slightly lit by the dim light. She straddled him, leaned in close to him, almost into his face, whispering to him with sugar-coated words, "Aurelius planned for this already, Damos," She almost spat that word out on his face, "Do not think that you were..." She moved her face over to his arm, watching the blood flow down the limb. Oh... she let a long tongue out, and placed it against his flesh, drawing it up the forearm and along the deep red liquid of his body, the metallic flavor finally crossing the boundaries between imagination and reality. She pulled away, and looked down at him, her tongue hanging slightly, a hungered glint in her only eye, "taking us by surprise, Damos." She licked her lips, leaving them a darker shade of red, and climbed off of him, turning towards Aurelius and walking over to him, planting her own lips against his cheek, and moving away, as if she was gliding...

[Csilla Angelis]

Csilla remained frozen in place, barely registering that Spade was taking his leave, making the newly appointed Brigadier General face the big bosses alone. Yes, something was definitely wrong with him. She felt Acra come up beside her, whispering a few words of encouragement and kissing her hand. She felt a gentle warmth spread from the tips of her fingers all the way down her toes. She managed to look up at him with a weak smile before returning her gaze to the scene before her.

Shula announced their presence and even from the distance, Csilla raised her hand in a salute towards her superior officers. She watched as Dietrich was fluidly polite with everyone, as always. She noticed Reila moving to join Shula and Acra but missed the ice chair debacle, because suddenly Elastor was standing in front of her.

“I'm sorry.”

Csilla felt her heart stop for that single instance. And then almost as suddenly, it started beating again, terribly fast. Sorry? He was SORRY? She wanted to be angry. She wanted to push him away and let him have a taste at what his horrible words had done to her so many weeks ago. And yet, she could do nothing. She just stood there, feeling her heart thump wildly against her chest. She felt the welling of tears in her eyes and clutched at the necklace beneath her many layers for a moment, willing the emotions to return to the box she had locked them in. Now was not the time. They were surrounded by extremely important people, superior officers and friends. This was not the time for apologies or painful words. This was war. And unfortunately at this moment, Csilla was more prepared to go to war. She noticed that for the most part, she and Elastor were being ignored. She moved a step closer to him and bowing her head down she whispered, “Please. Not now.” She looked up from beneath her lashes, her brown eyes tinted chocolate at this moment gazing into his eyes of bright, ice blue. Her eyes were pleading, warning him that at this time, at this place, it couldn't happen. She was close to her breaking point yet again.

She moved past him, shivering as her arm brushed his. She came to stand before Dietrich, bowing slightly in respect. “Sir, I am 2nd Lieutenant Csilla Angelis. Brigadier Generals Aeries and Brighton request that I remain at your side and help serve in the defense of the King of Creta. With your permission, I would like to do so.” She moved a step backwards, taking a slow breath. She had no desire to protect the King of Creta, especially with Elastor there. There twisted and unknown past would definitely complicate matters. But there were priorities and Csilla knew she had to complete her mission in this damned war before she could deal with matters of the heart. She glanced over at Shula who was moving to stand beside Acra. Yes. If they made it through this, Csilla would tell Shula everything. She needed to get this off her chest before it consumed her.

[Guest]

Ivanka spotted the small blonder haired woman as she revealed herself and began to speak "I-I don't understand you... But my job is complete. I don't know why I was ordered to come here; I just followed my orders to the T. I have not killed a single Drachman man, woman or child. My plans were complete when you arrived. I shall surrender my arms, and leave peacefully. I mean no harm to anybody in this world, you have my word as the Princess of the Maiores Verum". Ah, it was good that his father had taught him Amestrian, otherwise her words would have been lost to the winds of Drachma without a being to understand it. Well, he didn't understand that last part, but it was no matter, she had surrendered, so victory came without bloodshed. However, she would not be free to go just like that, she had to face the consequences for her actions. Ivanka cleared his throat and began with a light-hearted smile, "I apologize, I should have been speaking Amestrian sooner, da? Now, it is pleasing me that you are laying down arms, but it is being impossible that I can let you go after all of the damage you have been making. You will be coming with me back to Moscow, and then there will be deciding on your tria-". Just then, a sobbing voice carried by the chill wind interrupted the confrontation, "I hate being alone. I-I don't want to disappear!! Ivanka!!!". Ivanka turned around to find Marismo tugging at his sleeve, her sorrowful gaze averted from him. "Please...don't kill anymore people...How much more pain...do you think this country can take? Ivanka felt her words tug at the strings of his heart as his violet eyes sank into a somber expression and his cheer fled from the corners of his grin. I...don't want to see the beautiful, white snow tainted with blood. Can we... go--". What more there was to be said was lost to the chaos of war once again as a brilliant flame of azure and billowing dark clouds of smoke. The battle overhead had drawn to a climax and the night sky erupted with destruction. Flame and debris showered the sleepy town of Arkhangelskolye, in a beguiling display of beauty, awe, and terror. Of the two, Marismo had acted first, led by the convictions of a benign and compassionate heart, she had leapt to the aide of the Cretan soldier who had been there enemy only moments before, the wreckage feezing in its fall, unable to defeat her will to protect all she could. Once again, Ivanka was overcome with feelings of endearment and admiration. Pride....pride and sorrow. What was this strange mixture of sentiment? Dear Marismo, she was truly similar to.....

A volatile outburst of explosion shook the foundations of the once tranquil town of Arkhangelskolye. The steady roar of the percussion of war caused the ground to quake and buildings to tremble as the earth was torn asunder by the hail of artillery rounds. Houses were leveled, statues crumbled, people were blasted to unrecognizable bits. A stray shell found the three and the dirt and snow rose in a massive blast of debris, earth, and shrapnel. The painful stinging in his eyes, the ringing in his ears, it was as if Ivanka had gone blind and deaf at the same time, he could only feel the rumble of the artillery still tearing away the little town and its military base. Senses still disrupted, disoriented to a degree, having survived the shock of a blast that would have sent a normal man flying, Ivanka was still left standing, his arms shielding his face from fragments of broken metal and pavement. Thought could not process quickly enough, battle instinct and impulse took hold of the man, and through the smoldering crater which the shell had hit, Ivanka dashed on swift legs. Violet eyes forced open and squinted through the billowing smoke and darkness, barely making out the faint silhouettes of Marismo and the enemy soldier. The earth shook with such violent tremors as the shells continue to rain down overhead, decimating the area around them. There was no time to see if they were alive.....they had to be alive, Marismo could not die again. In one swift motion, Ivanka dived down and took both girls and hoisted them over each of his shoulders, and without even stopping, he sprinted out from the cloud of smoke and down the snowy streets of Arkhangel as hell rained upon them with vengeance. The cold and bitter wind stung at his eyes as he forced his mechanical limbs to press forward, faster than he had ever ran before, faster in order to save the live of Marismo, and to spare the life she had saved herself. With a great push, he bounded onto the rooftop of a house and sprinted across the snow covered rooftops, the decrepit scenery and showers of artillery shells that rained about them with malicious wrath passed by them in a disorienting blur. The destruction laid upon the town was apparent, the damage was catastrophic. But the military bunkers in the base would be a safe haven for them, he would leave them here and take care of the artillery himse-.......

Ivanka's eyes widened with terrible awe. A deep and ominous glow loomed across the Moscow skyline in the distant, black clouds of smoke hung overhead, threatening to blot the city out from existance. Moscow was ablaze!!! Had a full-scale invasion really began? Ivanka tore his gaze from the horrible sight as he lept down from the top of a military barracks and next to the entrance of one of the many bunkers that lied around the base. He sat both girls down onto the snow covered ground and looked over them with deep worry set into his gaze. As soon as he was sure that know grave injury had come upon either of them, he smiled softly upon them with a tinge of sadness staining his softened eyes. Marismo was right....how many Drachmans had to die tonight? Was this not enough? "Marismo" Ivanka began, leaning down to speak with her face to face. 'You stay here with the foreign soldier, I will take care of the artillery myself' is what he wanted to say, what he would have said if he hadn't looked into her quivering green eyes, if he had not recalled her words from just before.... "Momo, I....I do not like to see our people suffer, I do not like to see our homes destroyed and our cities burned. I do not like to make you so sad, but I cannot stop, I have to continue to kill, I have to do it to protect Drachma......I am going to destroy the enemy artillery and stop this-" he waved a hand at the terrible destruction that marred the once beautiful Arkhangelskolye, the town of sleeping angels. "I want you to come with me, I promise I will not leave you alone now, I will end this war and we can go home. I promise". And with that statement of solemn sincerity, her wrapped a single arm around the tiny frame of the blonde haired alchemist and embraced her with reassuring warmth, despite the cold lifelessness of his prosthetic limb. Ivanka pulled away and glanced at the foreign soldier before glancing around at his surroundings. He spotted a Drachman soldier and shouted to him, signalling him over. The two exchanged a few words, information to be relayed to Commander Zabulon as to Ivanka's current objective as well as orders dealing with the foreign soldier who had just stirred up such a commotion in the base. After they finished, the soldier pulled a radio from his pocket and began make the necessary calls, and Ivanka turned to the blonde haired foreigner again. "If you are truly surrendering, then you will be waiting here with Private Mendvev. If you are not wanting to cause trouble and to being safe, then wait in bunker and do not move. I will be returning after enemy is pushed out of Drachma, then there will be trial for you. Understand, da?"



Luckily, the helicopter they had arrived in had not been destroyed, and the pilot had not flown off either. Ivanka was surprised to learn that Zinaida had not returned yet, and Chernov had actually let her go by herself. 'Wait for Zinaida, we are heading to enemy lines' Ivanka had ordered. Now just the two of them, Marismo and Ivanka, were aboard the chopper as it sped across the sky towards the estimated coordinates of the enemy artillery. The air was tense, silent, only the pilot spoke from time to time, giving them estimations on arrival. The were approaching the drop-off point, and Ivanka suited up, both Titana Gneva and Titana Kulak firmly strapped to his back. Two minutes until touchdown. The side door was swung open and the cold night air filled the chopper. The famous military idol and leader of Kuvalda inhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill his lungs. This would be it, he would make this blow to the enemy count, he would make them feel the retribution for attacking the motherland. "Now decreasing altitude" the pilot announced. Ivanka glanced down to the shadowy ground below. The land near the Mertvyi mountain was sparsely populated, but a clear cut path of destruction evident, a scar across the land. Houses were razed to the ground, and they're inahabitants were.........Ivanka's eyes widened, his heart lurched in his chest as he took in the sight below. No matter how much he tried to affirm it as something else, no matter how hard he stared at the scene below.......there was no denying it. Spread across the snow a mass of corpses littered the snow, their red blood staining the ground like some gruesome impressionistic painting. Men, women.....children, they were sprawled out across the ground, limp and motionless, lying in piles, huddled as families, mothers clinging to their children still, even after death.




^ ((click to play music))

Ivanka mind went blank, he could not find his words, he could not process what he was witnessing. His body trembled, his fists clenched, bending the handlebar he gripped on the side of the door's opening. A fire, a terrible fire, so painful as it consumed his spirit, kindled within his swelling heart. He grit his teeth so hard that his tongue let forth the salty taste of blood. A deep, frightful sound resonated from within, an inhuman sound that took place of his voice, the growl of some terrifying animal, possessed by an uncontrollable rage. His violet eyes, once so soft and kind began to well with bitter tears, and reflect the inner ire within his burning, vindictive rage. Soldiers clad in blue, they walked amongst the bodies, laughing and drinking, counting their spoils in both goods and women. Pigs......pigs......pigs pigs pigs pigs PIGS PIGS PIGS ALL OF THEM WERE SWINE! GREEDY CAPITALIST SWINE, SLAUGHTERING THE INNOCENTS LIKE CORRUPT AND GREEDY MONSTERS, DRINKING THE BLOOD OF WHOMEVER COULD SUSTAIN THEIR INSATIABLE LUST! HE WOULD SLAUGHTER THEM ALL LIKE THE SWINE THEY WERE! DRACHMA WOULD DRINK THEIR BLOOD IN TURN, THEY WILL FEEL THE MIGHT OF THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE ANNIHILATE THEM FROM EXISTENCE. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE PIGS!.....He would kill every last one of them.

The pilot spoke up, panic in his voice as their helicopter rounded the enemy position, trying to position approach their entrenched location from behind the artillery cannons that faced over the cliff. "Shit! They have an anti-air craft gun! I'm taking evasive manuevers! Diving lower! Hang tight comrades!". Ivanka tore his fiery gaze from the horde of foreign soldiers that raped and pillaged the land, glancing left to a troop of men arming an Anti-aircraft weapon, all of them shouting and pointing to the copter, turning the machine so that they might shoot it down. Ivanka acted quickly, slining the massive rocket launcher off of his back on up onto his shoulder. He didn't have time to aim with the targeting system, instead he just pointed at the position and pressed the button on the panel. A single rocket launched forth and in a blink of an eye, in sped forward with a trail of light smoke behind it, until it collided directly with the aircraft destroyer, blasting it to fiery pieces. Many soldiers ran and dived out of the way, fleeing from the explosion, but the explosive ordinance of the people's vengeful will would spare none. Three more rockets were lunched in rapid succession, showering the fleeing survivors with a hail of volatile explosions that enveloped them in fire and smoke, their screams lost in the catastrophic BOOM of the rockets' detonations. The distinct sliding and click sound that resonated from within Ivanka's five foot pillar of a launcher reached his ears, letting him know that the next four of eight shots were ready. This time, he flipped a switch on his panel and the targeting screen popped forth from out of the body and in front of his eye. Turning his weapon towards the artillery that looked over all of Moscow and the surrounding towns, he panned his aim over them, clicking a button that left a blinking red marker over his screen for each of the four target locations his missiles would home in on. WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH, the next round of four sped forth, turning in different directions as each rushed forward to meet its target. The line of artillery erupted in a symphony of flame and destruction, each rocket was spread out so that the entire line would be hit. The entire encampment was scrambling now as the chopper descended further and further. They were all falling prey to chaos and fear, and now they would all fall prey to Drachma, and the innocents that died to day would be avenged. Ivanka tossed his launcher to the side with a heavy clank. Whatever Marismo or their pilot did, whatever they said, whatever look they gave him, was completely lost to the enraged man as he glanced around the copter until he spotted the unmanned Gatling machine gun mounted next to him, normally meant for firing at targets below for a gunship function. He gripped the sides of the large gun and with a tremendous pull, he ripped it from its bolts in the floor. Their chopper was now only twenty feet off of the ground, the few men who had regained their composure had begun firing upon them with assualt rifles and sub-machine guns, bullets glanced off the side of the chopper in a rapid series of clinks and sparks. But in their panic and shock, none of them could properly hit their target. The Sledgehammer, the Titanium Man, he lept from the chopper, machine gun in hand, the air violently whipping at his coat and hair as he fell to the ground. Rather than the softer sound of snow, a sickening crunch sounded out as he landed, his boots having met with a poor and unfortunate soldier, crushing him with a combined weight that exceeded a thousand pounds. They all ran and scrambled, some fleeing selfishly, others trying to draw their weapons and fire upon their attacker, but the Gatling gun revved up and spun with rapid intensity, and each man was mowed down, riddled with holes as he blood bursted from his torn body. The enemies were not granted the simplicity of a stationary machine gun post to deal with. Despite the weight he bore between the gun and his hammer, Ivanka exploded forward in a fit of tireless speed, discharging a hail of bullets upon all in his path. Blood splattered across the snowy field, blood showered the unholy site of not one, but two massacres. This land would forever be tainted with death, the innocents who were butchered like animals and the soldiers responsible, who were mowed down mercilessly. The burning hot and spinning weapon had riddled countless soldiers with countless holes before it ultimately clicked and jammed, but the charging juggernaut did not drop any momentum. He converged upon a pair of soldiers who fumbled with their weapons. Shots were fired, a few bullets glanced off the gun in his hand or grazed his metallic limbs but one had found its way into Ivanka's abdomen, a pain that he did not even feel, completely dwarfed by his cruel fury and resentment he bared toward each wretched being that stood here in this band of swine. He jabbed the butt of the jammed machine gun and it collided with the soldier's face, smashing it into a bloody and unrecognizable pulp. The other tried to flee as his comrade fell lifelessly to the ground, but his spine was snapped by a tremendous force, the weight of the machine gun having been thrown at him with Ivanka's tremendous strength.

The sound of a scream reached Ivanka's ears, his relentless gaze turned upon an Amestrian soldier who held a woman in Drachman uniform in front of him, a gun pointed at her head, tears streaming down his face. There was no hesitation in Ivanka's actions. He raised his right arm, lifting it so that it stretched outward and pointed straight at him. The Amestrian man, confused by the odd actions of his enemy, stood his ground, confident in his meat shield, eyeing Ivanka warily. Suddenly, the fabric of the sleeve covering his forearm tore apart, and in an instant, a hook on a chord was fired, piercing the man's hand like an arrow of god, knocking the gun away. The spearhead hook had gone straight through and folded outwards into a spread, three pronged grappling hook. In his pain, the man let the woman go, and she scrambled to her feet, moving away from her former captor as quickly as possible. But his threat to her was no longer tangible. Ivanka jerked his arm back, bringing the grappling hook attacked to his arm, and therefore, the man that's hand was gripped by the serrated edges of the hook was jerked violently forward, flying towards Ivanka only to be met with a gloved, metal fist to the gut, rupturing his organs and causing massive internal bleeding. The man chocked on his fear and his words, gurgling up nothing but illegible nonesense and coughs of blood that spilled forth like a broken fountain. Retracting his hookshot back into his arm, where it vanished into the open plate of his forearm, that locked back down with the others, giving his arm the shape of a normal limb once more, Ivanka then gripped the neck of the soldier that lied at his mercy, lifting him high into the air, his legs dangling limply below his broken body, his dimming gaze staring back into the violent violet eyes of the monster of a man that had defeated him. He was helpless, subject to the mercy of Drachma's fury. His death would be well deserved for his evil and greed, like the rest of the countless bodies that surrounded them, their corpses mixing with the men, women, and children whose lives they had toyed with. Ivanka squeezed the man's throat with increasing strength, his choked cries vanished, his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. A revolting crunch, a splatter of blood that coated Ivanka's face and uniform; The man's neck snapped and bursted open, crushed like one might crush an empty can. This was the punishment for those who dared to attack Drachma, to spill the blood of her people. This was the death that awaited any that opposed them. This was the fate of the evils of this world. He would destroy them all, Drachma would liberate the world from itself, he would crush any who attempted to oppose their will. Ivanka's grip loosened, and the mangled corpse of the soldier fell to the snow, leaking unto it a fresh coat of blood.

"Greedy militant devils......", those trembling words escaped Ivanka's lips as he took in the sight, of all the slaughtered civilians that lied strewn about them along with the bodies of their killers. The plain was nothing more than the site of a bloodbath, two massacres, painted red with blood and littered with countless bodies and two sites of flaming wreckage and debris, covered in fire and smoke.

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