ABANDONED BUILDING: Nika, (Maybe Dai and Takatori), NPC's

[Alisa Donnikova]

The building creaked with each wind that blew past, frankly... It was driving Alisa up the goddamn wall. She was already lacking in whiskey, she shouldn't smoke lest company arrives, and it was SO REPETITIVE. God dammit! That, and those bastards.... God fucking WHORE. She never wanted to see that fucking asshole again. And here they were, on the same goddamn team. Was this some kind of sick joke? Or just some fucking sense of fucking irony? GOD DAMMIT.

Her lips curled back as she wanted to snarl, but the sensation didn't last long as she could hear the APC rolling up. Well there you go. But... hold on, they got no orders yet? What the hell were they supposed to fucking do? The mixed woman narrowed her eyes and glanced over to the small bear trap like things she had set up in the room, shifting her grip on her Cutlass'. Fuck. This. Shit. She wasn't going to just sit around and LET these bastards shoot her. She wasn't getting paid enough for that! She was just hired help in this fucking war. She wasn't the soldier that her father had been.

They were inside. She could feel them scurrying about, like rats. Or cockroaches. Both were goddamn vermin. It wasn't like she had anything against Amestris. A job was a job. But she sure as hell wasn't going to die. They were swarming over the rooms, checking rather lazily. But the mercs were hired for a reason. They could be hidden when they wanted to be. Wasn't always guns blazing, that was just fucking moronic. "Alright, secure the first and second floor, two per floor, you know Ito's orders, if you see any hostiles making their way towards the Kremlin, shoot them down. I'll head to the next floor and take up the sniper role. Stay frosty." Amestrians indeed. Fucking great. Hold on... That was a womans voice. So they were being led by her it sounded like. She could practically hear the sound of the guns that they held, her brown eyes narrowing as a wicked grin spread across her lips. Stay frosty. Oh, she could do that too.

One had entered her room. Woman most likely. Excellent. Shifting very carefully from her corner, she could see Nika moving in and out of view, moving closer to some of those bear traps she had created. Would she step on one? Amestrians were trained for a bunch of shit. It wouldn't do her much. Her eyes watched from the shadows and she carefully pointed her pistols at the woman. Wait for it.... Wait for it... She poked her head out, the guns went off. Firing four shots at Nika, she immediately rolled to the side behind another set of crates, listening as the others moved at the sound. The mercs were moving, the enemy was on their turf. Shouts went out amongst the occasional grunt, but who felt them, she didn't know or care. "Lets rock this bitch!" Explosions gave their beat outside, a distinct cackle piercing the sky. Hah! She liked the sound of that!

[Reila Tsukino]

[Please don't include people's names in your post-titles unless the post directly corresponds to that character. If you're in close proximity to a character that isn't directly mentioned in your post, please put that character's name in parenthesis! Thank you~]

Notes for myself:

-Post Toss after Vani, Hild, and Dietrich post and have him shoot down Reila's ship.
-Post Reila right after Toss and shoot down his ship while she's crashing. Crash, and then be about to kill Toss.
-Wait until Shu posts and stops her.
-Post Reila stopping and capturing him.
-Post Toss Exiting Mission.

-Post Aurel after Dietrich and Hild posts --> Surealis entering and making the Philo stone.
-Post Ela after Dietrich.

-SPADE AND ALISA NEED TO MEET.
-ACE NEEDS TO GET HIS ASS TO SPADE.

[Guest]

"Takumi, see if you can help disable Drachma's coomunications, navigations and defense systems on the ground and for their aerial assault forces. We're on their turf, but making them fight us blind will slow them down!"

Takumi nodded slowly, red eyes narrowing into slits as black hair brushed at this ears. He turned quickly, boots digging viciously into the snow. He had a mission now. But why Shula called him Takumi was a complete mystery. By what means had she learned that name...? Well, at least she wasn't calling him Kira. That would be bad...very bad. He shuddered and raced into the Kremlin, dodging gun fire and ignoring all the yells that followed in the wake of his wet footprints.

He skidded to a halt in front of the door to the stairs, glancing at the elevator. Bad idea. He kicked the door open and whipped out his gun, looking both ways before sprinting up the steps. Ihatestairs Ihatestairs Ihatestairs... He reached the top, a panting wreck and fiddled through each room until he found the one he thought he would. Hah, all great countries had the same damn layout. Control room on the fifth floor. How utterly...predictable. Ten bashed in the glass and reached his hand around to unlock it. Immediately, an alarm sounded, flashing a blare of red lights around the entire vicinity. But no one to come. They were the bodies strewn about the building, utterly...useless. Well, now at least. He snickered and cracked his knuckles, walking up to the various gleaming keyboards. Oh what power resonated here! He clicked his tongue and set out to work. He tapped in various codes, 1,546 words springing to life in seconds. The system was immediately tapped into, allowing him access to...everything. He sighed and leaned closer to the screen before shifting over to one of the other keyboards. There, he typed a different code, releasing one his own customized viruses consisting of a code of letters only he knew the translation of. He jumped over to the third keyboard and entered a code that would basically...strip the entire city of power. The streetlights would go out...everything would be dead.

A callous smirk crossed his face and he hit enter. The sound that followed sounded like the moaning of an entire nation, deprived of what had become essential in present-day life: electricity. Powering down...the lights went out and left Takumi in darkness. Something he hadn't thought of... Panic encased him for a moment, but he took a deep breath and fumbled around to find any source of light. Wait! He reached into the pocket of his navy blue trench coat and pulled out his droid. Turning on the flashlight app, his eyes adjusted back to sight. Now he could get out--

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!

--of here... The entire foundation of where he stood shook with impact. Suddenly he could see everything. His phone fell back into his pocket as flame sprung up onto the black sky. And then...he was falling forward through the window that had been all the way across the hallway. The glass shattered and he starting falling again, feeling the prick of glass digging through his skin. It...was like poetry. The glass falling with him...the cold air pushing against him...the sounds of screams and the destruction of the Kremlin happening over him. Takumi grinned, wondering if he would live or if he would die. It didn't matter which, but this falling was simply...peaceful. He closed his eyes and his body connected with something warm and soft and deep...

"'Snow can be warm...'"

[Someone save Ten or something from the snow pile he's passed out in XD]

[Guest]

S-she was there. She was right there, within his reach. He'd be able to just lean in and pick her up, take her to safety. But his entire body was paralyzed, the look of horror stuck on his face as he stared at the woman right in front of him, her hand slowly finding it's way to his. "D... don't b-blame..." His heart skipped a beat, and he stared into the face without wavering, yet shaking horribly over his entire body. "...G..Good death. Th-this is the way... it was m..meant to be...S-s..safe. Both... safe." He nodded slowly, not sure if her words were registering in his mind. His eyes were forlorn, the dark orbs staring at that woman with the utmost sorrow in them... "P..please Vito... D-don't.. blame yourself... None of you. W..watch Fran... S-swinging moods lead to g..g..great sadness." Don't...? But... it was his fault... "I shall always protect her, Catalina. It is both my duty, and my passion." Those words were sobering to his heart; and he was starting to lose his shaking motions all over his form. The hand tightened it's grip on his own, "C..can I ask s-something... of you?" He shuddered, and stared at her, nodding once more. "L...Live. Live without regret. Y..you h-h-have so m..m.much to offer. L..love her... with..w-withou...without restraint.." A hand reached up to his face, and a thumb brushed his flesh. "Cata... Alright. If it is your dying wish, then I shall do so." He leaned in closer to the woman, breathes coming out with white steam and spreading around the pair... "V-vito... Th..thank you."

The hand dropped. She breathed her last. It was all happening at once, and Vito's heart was now fluttering in his chest. Catalina... Catalina... No, he had to persevere. Leaning in closer, he placed his lips softly onto the forehead of the woman, before reaching over to her eyes and closing her eyelids with a soft sigh. "Que descanse... en paz..." He felt his body welling up further, shaking uncontrollably now. Tears started to roll down his cheeks, dropping onto the now-lifeless body. "Cata...lina..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Ca...ta...lina..." He swallowed his building up cries of sorrow, and leaned over the body once more, sobbing heavily as his shoulders raised and fell, "Cat...a...li..." He took in a deep breath, and threw his head backwards, shouting cries of the utmost sadness into the air around him. "CATALINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....." His voice died down, and he just knelt there, looking into the sky above, staring into the distance with a dead look in his eyes. "P-Please d-don't be gone Cat. I, I love yo-you." Words. They meant nothing in this situation now. They would fall onto deaf ears, all was lost. His head lowered back down, and focused on something in the distance. It was a woman in aqua armor. He could see from her features that she was no ally of his. He could almost spit in her direction right now. So that's what he'd do. If he couldn't release this anguish with tears, he would release it with violence. Slowly getting to his feet, Vito looked down at Tristao, "Take care of them. I must release." His next look went at Shade, the man scratching the large cat behind the ears with a soft smile on his face. "Be good, my boy." Stepping over Catalina's body with a cold stare, Vito started to walk towards Vivian with a strange and frightful calmness surrounding him. His breathing resounded throughout the silence in his mind, and he stared at the woman before reaching down to his hip, loading the Contender, raising the weapon in the air. She would never see him, that raven-haired woman. She would never see him, and she would die right here. She had the look of death upon her, like that of an Alchemist. Or maybe he was just seeing death everywhere now...

And so...

Vito Camillo Reyes pulled the trigger.

And missed.

No, he didn't miss. He aimed off on purpose, and turned away from the woman in question, looking back at Tristao with saddened eyes, slowly approaching the man through the distance, and cringing at the sound of something landing behind him, but not looking at it anyway. He wasn't going to be the one to kill that woman. Instead, he was going to make sure that Catalina got a proper burial, and make sure that Miss Francesca survived the night. They had to keep her alive, they just had to. Lowering his gaze to the ground, his feet pounded on the earth and he looked up, seeing Fran in Tristao's arms, pale, nearly-dead. He stopped thinking there, and ran. He just ran, straight for the pair, staring at them with eyes that were screaming out in sorrow-filled pain. His footsteps died down, and he stepped before Tristao, reaching out to take the girl from him, sliding her back into his arms. They were in a foreign country, far away from everyone that they cared about at home. Catalina was dead, they were all injured and tired. What had Valentin dragged them into...? The man's gaze lowered to Fran, and he sighed softly, whispering calming words to the girl, not knowing that they fell onto deaf ears, "It'll be okay, Fran, it'll be okay. I love you Fran, don't die on me. Don't die on me Fran, I'll never be able to handle it. Don't die Fran. Don't die. Stay alive, and I promise that I'll always protect you better. I promise Fran. I promise, and I will never let you go, for as long as I live..." His eyes started to water, and he felt his cheeks moistening, the drops falling from his face onto her own, as he stared at her closed eyes, "I can't lose you, Fran. I can't lose the girl I fell in love with. I can't, can't, can't, can't, can't!" Hoisting her up into a held position, he turned towards Tristao and attempted to keep an unwavering voice to the man, "T-take Catalina... We must find a place to get help for Miss Francesca, and then return to Esparia as soon as possible. Miguel! You must come too. When we have gotten Miss Francesca to safety, we must also contact Valentin. The nearest hospital is a few blocks away. I will take her there myself, if I have to." He wasn't the leader, but right now... he didn't care. Turning away from Tristao, he started to walk once more. His feet clapped on the ground again, and he started to walk towards the hospital that he had found on the maps of this area. He would not be letting Fran die. Not now, not ever.

[Thread LEFT]

[Spotlight]

"Hey bro, what took yah so long? No one ever accused YOU of being late to arrive, eh? Haha~ I've been through three pep talks and speeches, flown all the way here, fought off a small squad, and you still got here after all that! Haha, so what's the plan? I vote for a good old Amestrian hack-slash strategy." He smiled at the comment though he was weirded out by the uniform a bit. He had Julio take the next jump and he landed about five minutes after he did. He was still tangled up in the parachute after landing. He laughed at his stupid cousins antics. He really did have no luck with real life challenges. Taking out an army knife he cut Julio free. Julio then got out and greeted jay who he already knew. He then took from Julio’s bag some ID’s and a uniform for the Drachman side. He also handed her his brother’s mask. “Figured some behind lines stuff wouldn’t be too hard. And well you have to cover my ass in there because we got to capture a member of the other side.”

[Guest]

"'Snow can be warm...'" Sigh. Why was she doing this again? A metal glove reached down and picked up the man by the scruff of his clothing, pulling him out of the snow and dusting his body off. The young blonde woman shook her head. She was loyal to Drachma, but she had no intentions of ignoring somebody passed out in the snow. It was against her honor. And as the burning wreckage fell around them, she felt her heart sink. She had failed. The Kremlin was burning and falling to the earth. She was a failure. She could not face Lady Alena...

But how had she gotten here in the first place?

When she had approached the group that were looking to fight the intruders to the Kremlin, she had been greeted by a strange pair. A dark haired man and a smaller girl. They were supposedly members of RIOTE, who were rumored to have destroyed the main cities of Amestris. He had questioned her presence and told her not to get in his way; she had complied, as she did, standing back and simply watching, as an observer. There were two enemies, two allies, therefore she was unneeded right now. It was simple enough for her to stand by, watching the proceedings through a pair of uninterested blue eyes. The smaller girl was being fired at by another Amestrian, and Sablya found that she was surplus in this area, not protecting the Kremlin to the level that she could be. Narrowing her eyes, Sablya stepped backwards slightly and turned around, watching for any more apparent threats. The sounds of gunfire resounded around them, causing her mind to go into several different flurries at once. She was a Knight, so this was normal for her, correct? Battle. Battle. Battle after battle.

Another voice, her body whipped around to see a man firing at the darker person. But... she didn't move. No reaction came from Sablya as this happened, because she had been ordered to not interfere. She would not interfere, as honor denoted as such. The woman sheathed Caliburn, holding Excalibur at the ready as she watched Spade through narrowed eyes. He had been brave enough to attack the Kremlin on his own, so that meant that he was no weak opponent, was he? Growling lightly, she started to circle them, preparing herself to attack the Chimera on the other side of the lobby. But another gunshot fired, just after the man announced himself to be named as Spade Aeries. Her eyes were shown to have the slightest surprise, before returning to their nonchalant gaze. No, she would not interfere. She was told not to interfere, so she would not do so. Holding her sword at the ready, the small and lithe girl stepped forwards slightly, watching the cage with furious calm, when...

BOOM. An explosion rocked out above her. Something had collided with the building that they were in. Okay. Time to escape. As flaming rubble began to fall around them, Sablya started to run. Voices were spreading out aroudn her, but she didn't care. At the moment, she was preserving herself before anything else; a selfish thing which Lady Alena would most likely punish her for. Diving out of the main door of the Kremlin, Sablya slid across the concrete as the building slowly fell before her. She felt her heart sink. That building was the symbol of their power, and she had allowed it to fall without falling on her. But she would not die. Standing up slowly, Sablya Pendragon let a small smirk cross her face. She would be preparing herself to see her Lady once more, or she could leave. She had a choice, did she not? Or did she? Turning away, Sablya sighed and stepped forwards, closing her eyes briefly as she walked through the burning rubble and falling rock. That's when she'd seen him flying out of a window and landing in the snow. Normally, she would ignore one such as himself, but she could not help herself this time. So she approached him, and heard his quiet voice from inside his snowy pile, "'Snow can be warm...'"

Sigh. After having picked him up and dusted him off, she slung him over her shoulder and started to walk towards the sounds of soldiers. You know, it was quite the bother to have to pick somebody up that was supposed to be your enemy. Normally, she would not take the initiative, but after everything, she felt that her honor needed some kind of compensation. If saving the life of this one man made her honor and conscience feel better, then she would use that to her advantage. To know of the people that she served now, and to know the higher power behind their evil, she felt sick to her stomach. Closing her blue orbs, Sablya spoke quietly to the man passed out over her shoulder, accented Amestrian singing to him with a soft voice, "Do not worry. I shall return you to your commanders."

[Guest]

Okay, he had to get one thing straight right now. Although he was seemingly getting this helicopter thing down pat, there was something that Apos needed to admit right now. He had no idea what he was doing. He had an idea of the direction that he was traveling in, and he had some idea of what this aircraft could do (thank you Aircraft Simulators on the computer). However, when it came to the actual helicopter flying? He was completely lost in ways that one would never believe. The man was riding on the edge of his seat here as turbulence rocked the helicopter around in the air. Growling softly, Apos pulled back on the throttle, pushing further into the air and smirking as he did so. He would make it to Moscow, he was sure of it. Grinning widely, he suddenly pushed forwards, swooping down towards the ground and passing over what appeared to be a convoy of trucks moving from Fort Briggs towards Moscow. They were still pressing the assault? Good, that meant that he would be able to make it in there, and hopefully meet up with Spade at the same time. Still had to talk to the guy, y'know? Gritting his teeth tightly, Apos finally found himself approaching the main center of Drachma, Moscow. That place... it was scarily beautiful, and yet also extremely frightful. This place was a different country, with people that wished for their deaths. Closing his eyes for a half-second, Apos watched as a large and ancient ship lowered itself to the ground. That must be the Xingese. Nodding, Apos also noted an APC heading towards Moscow. Alright. With a smirk, Apos pushed the helicopter further forwards, before suddenly pulling away, lifting the helicopter higher into the air with a shocked expression on his face. FUCK!

That building was crumbling. It was the Kremlin, he knew that it was! Damnit. Was Spade in there? He better not fucking be, or he'd better not fucking be dead. His head slowly shook as he crossed over the blocks of Moscow; and he turned himself back towards the main building's rubble pile, grinning like an idiot. He would find out exactly what happened to Spade, even if it killed hi--BOOM. The sound of something colliding with the tail of his helicopter caused Apos to shout out in worry. Not only that, but something was weird about his controls. Things were beginning to freeze over around him, his eyes widened with fear and the dials started to go crazy, with Apos not knowing anything about what was occurring. Damnitall... He pulled this and that, trying to right the aircraft to no avail. His heart was beginning to beat faster, and the helicopter started to fall out of the sky. His mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour; thoughts of his death played heavily on his mind's eye. He was scared of this. He was scared of this idea of death. The one who knew power felt himself scared of it all, and as he braced himself on the edges of the helicopter, his life began to flash before his eyes. As boring as it was, it made him realize something. He had to live his life properly. Gritting his teeth, Apos Rajan suddenly kicked out the door of the helicopter by his side, looking down at the ground with a wild grin on his face. He was only human, but the distance was nothing to care about. It would serve to hurt now, nothing more. Closing his eyes, Apos smiled to himself, and spoke a pair of quiet words in Amestrian, words that he would live to remember and cherish for the rest of his life, "Better Appreciate." Stepping forwards, Apos found himself in the air, and falling. He was but ten feet up now, a distance he could easily fall and survive without any broken limbs. Falling through the air, a pile of snow could be seen as well; Apos aimed for that. Air whistled past his head for a brief second as he landed on one knee, a confident grin sliding across his face and a chuckle emanating from his lips. A tense half-second later, and the half-frozen, half-burning helicopter collided with the ground, making a loud 'CRUNCH' sound as it did so. Slowly standing up straight, Apos looked forwards and saw a woman before him; raven-haired, aqua-colored armor. He didn't know why... but she was the most beautiful-looking woman he'd ever seen. The landing of the helicopter had caused her to look at him now, and he finally stood up in a proper position, looking at her through brown eyes that exuded confidence. An arm slowly raised up, and at the end of that arm was a hand... doing the thumbs up.

Yeah, Apos was okay... and yet the world seemed to be turning on it's side. He wasn't drunk... so why was this happening? Toppling over, Apos managed to regain his balance slightly and go back onto one knee, laughing softly to himself and watching the ground with a pair of disconcerted eyes. Still getting used to the earth again, were we? Oh, great. Had to embarrass ourselves in front of the beautiful woman... and not even the screams of the Esparian behind him reached his ears, as the world was now filled with her...

[Guest]

"CATALINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....."

The scream of utter grief rendered the sky and sent a shiver down her spine, the Drachmans caught offguard as they barked off orders in their guttural tongue. Shit. ShitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT. As she perched there in that doorway, hidden from those uniforms bearing down on her, she knew. He had seen her. And he wanted her blood. A bullet whizzed perilously close to the side of her face, skimming the edge of her cheek with a wince. "What a load of bullox." She muttered, forced to pay attention to the Drachmans growing ever closer to her position. Ducking out, she fired off the last few rounds of her pistol, a frown of utter focus twisted upon her features, lips pursed tightly as a few of the men fell.

A gun shot hit the wall right in front of her face.

She reacted in time to lean back as fragments of the brick went flying, blue eyes glancing down that alleyway, staring at that handsome man in so much pain. Missed on purpose. How close she had come to dying then.... All of a sudden a helicopter could be distinctly heard, looking up in time to see a blonde haired man leaping out of the crashing vehicle. What the-- The Drachmans were shouting to each other, diving for cover before the thing crashed right into them with a resounding crunch. What... What was up with today? Her eyes were wide, caught completely off-guard by these turns of events as he landed in the snow, crouching there and just staring at the man. Blood trickled down from the cut upon her cheek, for some reason thinking of how her parents would be upset that she had marred her pretty face. Though it wasn't like they were going to try to marry her off as much as they might want to. They knew better than to try that shit.

Then the man stood up, and she didn't know whether to laugh or what, but he gave her a thumbs up with a confidant gleam in his eye. This man, who had just jumped out of a FREAKING HELICOPTER gave her a thumbs up to show he was ok. It did snap her into movement again, seeing as how the Drachmans sort of had a burning pile of helicopter in their faces. Running forward, she kicked into gear as she slid her good arm around his shoulder, concerned to find she couldn't really move the other one. Later. Now, her focus was upon the man in front of her, checking him for signs of injury. "Sir? Sir, are you alright? Can you stand?" "Sir, can you move?" It was first habit to speak in her native tongue, but then it was natural to switch to the only other language she knew. The make on that helicopter could have been Amestrian which would imply he was as well, unless it was stolen from them and he was unaffiliated. Up close she realized just how beefy this guy was, sapphire eyes glancing over his features. There was just something about him she couldn't place, glancing about in case they were getting flanked. No sign of that yet, but that didn't mean it may happen. He was woozy, and she couldn't blame him, biting her lower lip in thought. There was the nearby store that her men had slipped into before. "Sorry about this, but come on."

Bending down a bit further, she slid her arm around his waist and placed his arm over her shoulder, ignoring the pain in her right arm. God damn giant panther. Lifting them both up with her legs, they strained under the weight and although his ripped body was lovely, it was not helping her. Grimacing with effort, she got them across the street, kicking the door in as she set them down behind some cover should the enemy find a way around. Carefully setting him down, she exhaled slowly, sweat beading her forehead as she looked him in the eye. It was a breath in this war, and she visibly relaxed a little. She just seemed... tired. "I am Captain Vivian Duchamp of the Crown Alchemists and Royal Guard under King Dietrich. What is your name, and do you need medical attention?" She spoke in a much gentler voice than earlier, the adrenaline starting to wear off. Her right arm was beginning to throb quite painfully, blood seeping out of her makeshift bandage steadily. She had just seen her squad die, again. Again because she had failed them. And yet here was this man, who had appeared from the sky and landed her amongst this hell on earth. She would not fail him. She couldn't let herself.

[Guest]

It was far too quiet. Was she--OH SHIT! The giant mecha came busting through the store, though not quite where she had expected, still setting the mine off on the corner of the building. It rocked Zina to the side, but it hardly did much in terms of damage. Much to be expected, girl was practically a tank! Breaking into a run, she jumped to the side as a grappling hook went soaring past, listening to the propagandist bull coming out of her mouth. "Listen mate, I realize we go' differentiatin' ideas, but 'is is jus' ridiculous!" She shouted back, not really bothering to look. No time. She looked, she'd probably lose a limb. Close quarters was bad! Shit, why was snow so goddamn tricky to run in?

BOOM

Overhead. SHIT. "Joker..." Her eyes widened as her crimson eyes shot skyward, watching as the ship spiraled downward towards the center of Moscow. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! There was a thoom behind her and another grappling hook went soaring past. AHHH!!! NOT GOOD! It sounded like Zina was using her grappling hooks to latch onto buildings to get closer faster. That meant she was going to catch up. Picking up another EMP grenade, she sent it soaring back towards the giant mecha, making a sharp turn to get out of the center of the street. Her foot slid across a sheet of ice, sending her tumbling with momentum, slamming her shoulder into the ground rather painfully. Sonovabitch--- At least it kept her sliding forward even if she was on her tush. Glancing back, Berserker was bearing down upon her, and this was NOT where she wanted to die. She REFUSED.

Suddenly, the Mako came skidding into view, the Quarian pushing herself up as she spun about and sprinted towards its open door. "C'ya ya commie fuck!" She shouted, diving into the Mako as the door closed behind her, Joker driving them off. Panting, she winced and rubbed her shoulder a bit, flopping down into one of the chairs as she looked to Joker and Deirge. "Well tha' wen' well." Chuckling, she winced and caught her breath, looking ahead as they drove off into the horizon.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Guest]

Her deed complete, Hild could only stand in the back corner of the room and watch the proceedings with a look of the utmost glee on her face. To see such a pride and powerful man tortured like this, it made her heart race, and shivering feelings of pleasure travel down her body. Watching his prone body on the ground from her position, she felt her body shudder and heat up. Death, pain, screaming, bloodshed, it all felt amazing to her. The taste of blood, even. A tongue ran along her teeth and slid across a single fang, the girl watching Damos on the ground from the distance. Now, where were we? She was about to walk forwards and tease Damos with the advent of further pain, when the doors burst open before them, and a haggard, white-haired man crawled in. She blinked a few times, and watched him crawl over towards Vanity, and speak something in Amestrian to the woman, "..ust ble...p...Kremlin." Her top lip curled into a sneer; she wasn't appreciative of the Homunculi, however she should be. They were the reason that she was like this. Those eight souls meant that the ninth, tenth and the eleventh were the Bearers; herself, Aurelius and Lyte. A small cackle rose from the throat of the petite woman. Oh, that was just delightful. The homunculus had slapped her brother. Oho. That was... delightful indeed~ And then she kissed him. Strange. Certainly strange.

"What the ff--?" Interesting reaction. "Oi, Vani!" She watched the man speak into thin air for a second or so, before he got up from his chair that he'd been placed into. He walked over to somewhere, before being greeted by the shadow of the man that she knew as Aurelius. Cackling further, Hild slowly stepped forwards and turned away, not letting their conversation hang on her mind for too long. Damos was being taken away, therefore he had no use to her anymore. Stifling a laugh, she slowly made her way up the stairs towards the room that they had watched from before. She would wait up here for Aurel's return, or any other surprises that may possibly occur...

{sorry that it's so short... DX}

[Spade Aeries]

The connection cut out because what Spade was seeing...was hell. "It followed me here," he whispered, jade eyes widened in horror. No...it was just too hard for his neuro alchemy to work here in the middle of a battle. The man just hadn't heard...the small sound his lighter made. Spade sucked in a breath of smoke, staring at the sky as the sounds of gunfire spun around him. "Dammit." They were all dying...all his men. He squeezed his eyes shut just listening...listening to the last sounds of their lives. It punctured his very core, reminding him of everything in his life--that he was living for only one reason: to die. Everything revolved around him, orbiting like bullets caught in the final moments between the end and the beginning. The...beginning. Six...men just died while he stood there fighting the darkness that feasted on the throws of his vision. He hadn't realized that he had fallen to his knees or that his eyes were leaking more than just blood. The tears streaked over the ashes stuck by the glue of sweat, curling around his chin and down his neck to his collar that was stained with thick red. It was just his shoulder, but it was spreading like a virus, soaking through the navy blue cloth and making it look like he had rolled like a pig in a mud pit until he was covered with earth. To return to the earth... He refused.

Spade stood up like a giant standing before the destruction of the world. The flames blazed behind him, swirling to fight the frigid winds that cut through them. He clenched a slippery fist, the other still holding tight to the metal of his gun, coated in the resolve of his life pouring out to pool in the snow under his flickering shadow. He ground his teeth together, sucking back the pain and spitting out the cigarette to the side. "Heh...heh...You'll pay...I'll show you what happens when you think you can get past me." Spade stepped forward over the bodies of his men whose eyes were blank, seeing nothing, but looking as if any moment they would blink.

"SPADE! We've got your back!"

The playboy spun around, almost slipping in the bloodstained snow. A look of complete bewilderment seeped into his wet eyes. He blinked and more tears fell. Shu... so she really came? A ghost of a smile haunted his cracked lips, caked with blood splashed across his face...his own. He said nothing and nearly had a heart attack as a trashcan lid flew past his head, lifting up frizzes of brown hair in its wake. Now! It was a chance--a chance to test out something he had been theorizing for months. There were so many things that could go wrong... But in that moment, Spade was only thinking of revenge. Nothing else--nothing but the defeat of the man that had ended so many lives of the loyal men under him. Those were people with families, with loved ones--soldiers that trusted Spade with their lives, who put up with Spade's antics--with his drunken stupor and refusal to accept reality as it was. The Brigadier General's mind cleared...so clear it felt pure--so rooted to now that Spade hardly realized how broken his own body was as he ran. He ran and pointed his gun, covering vast distance. And through the air between them, a bullet soared, but it wasn't just a bullet. "Chhhhe," Spade hissed as his mind went into overdrive, shifting gears and forcing a ethereal glow from his chest pocket. It hurt...it felt like his insides were ripping apart, but...it had to work. It had to or he knew that he would die.

It cracked as the trigger pulled. And the world filled with light--everything was white...white fire. The edges of his clothes singed black, steaming and making his body moan. And then the gun shattered in his hand, bent and searing metal falling to sizzle atop the melting snow. The bullet buzzed ahead in the blink of an eye, forcing Spade to watch in awe--awe of his own creation. Just...what had he done? A residue of sparks was left in its wake, jolting out to tackle anything that stood to the side of its path. Shit! Spade yelled in his mind, clutching his hand and feeling himself fall back in the snow only a few yards away from his friends.

Lightning. A stream of spark-birthed friction followed after the lead of the metal bullet, licking at it and breaking away into an unorganized web of knots as gravity pulled it down and down. But a man stood there--a man in all black drenched in the lives of Amestrian men. There was nowhere to run but down into the snow that Spade knew would stunt the burns and save his life. But...but that man would lose consciousness. Spade hadn't enough power in himself--enough focus to make the alchemy what it could be. This...was only a fraction of what he could do. Only a fraction and yet... It was so powerful, so...incomprehensible. CRACKBOOM.

The man dropped. Spade stood up to see a small crater of burnt earth around him. Stumbling a few more steps, he lowered his face to see who this man in all black was... But a mask covered his face, and suddenly he no longer wanted to know exactly who he was. He was just another man--another man with a task set before him. A Drachman who merely believed this to be the right way. So many things went through Spade's head in that moment that he could barely register how he felt at all. It hurt...like everything else in his life, making him wonder if life was after him or something. Was this karma for killing all that he had? Now he was questioning it. Was this suffering lodged permanently into his soul? Inescapable...unavoidable. He stooped closer, confirming that the man in all black was in fact alive. How easy...it would be to kill him right now... He couldn't. Not after thinking like that...he just couldn't. His aviators hid his eyes from everything, but... He lifted them up on top of his head, pushing away bangs to twine over his ponytail. What...what should he do? Spade bit his lip and turned on his heel, blindly making his decision. He walked to where Shu stood with Acra beside her and stopped. Good, Acra was there to comfort her... Spade was sure that he was in no mood to do much of anything let alone try and make the situation look good... He didn't even bother to wipe the streaks from his face or to crack a joke about his faulty alchemy. He only said this: "He's dead." And that was the end of it.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BOOM. He should have knocked on wood.

Just...what?! Spade had just barely reached Acra and Shula in time, immediately tackling them down into the thick snow. He watched shadows dance across the white as debris showered down from over head. The Kremlin...was burning. "Fuck," he uttered just before a giant portion of the wall came crashing down towards them. There was no time to get up and run. Oh god...wasn't going to save them. Spade growled and dragged them by their collars under an abandoned jeep. His ears were ringing from the crack of lightning that came from his gun previously, but still he heard the wall make contact with the jeep, crushing it to sink lower and dig into their backs. He felt it, but he knew this wasn't the end. The jeep groaned, steel frames bending as more and more weight collapsed onto it. They had to...!! Spade let his words finish the thought. "Get out!" He yelled, struggling himself to army crawl out from under it to the other side. He got out, helping the others through. A handful of men were crouched under bleachers nearby and the black-clad man was still lying down the block out of reach. The soldiers waved at them, signalling for them to run there, but there wasn't time. A red aircraft zipped over the fires, putting them out including the ones that ensnared the RIOTE chimera. No time to think. The other section of the giant skyscraper was crashing down to the cement it rose out of. Even the bleachers looked unsafe to Spade. What could...I do!? Spade shot Shu a desperate look and then launched himself into the air with a metal wire connected to a grappling hook. He only hoped he had aimed at a secure spot as he threw lines down to the two of them. The entire rest of the Kremlin fell under them on top of the bleachers where the men huddled. Spade couldn't save everyone. He already knew that. Now...he had learned the cold, hard truth. People died. Only some survived. And he had cast the die.

Please let it... It hitched on a crevice in the wall and all three of them felt a hard pull. Good. And instead of falling to their death, they ascended into the night sky, growing closer and closer to the stars, but also closer to the ledge. Sweat poured down the sides of the Brigadier General's face as he struggled to keep consciousness, his hands slipping against the steel wire that pulled them up. Below him, he knew they would notice now... Blood slithered down the wire to reach them. Damn gravity. He pulled himself up onto the roof of a building across from the Kremlin and made sure that Acra and Shula got up too before letting himself collapse onto his back, panting. He wouldn't die... but... He touched his bad shoulder, holding tightly to keep himself intact in order to live just one more day...just one more day... But why did he want to live so badly? The effort it took just to keep holding onto the wire was everything he had. It was laughable...just how susceptible humans were to...death. Spade laughed slightly and pushed himself up, gazing down at the destruction below. This was hell.

[Guest]

The world around Ivanka began to settle down, blurred lines and colors slowly recreated themselves, the blind, bestial fury that had possessed the man had finally subsided, the world stopped screaming, the gnawing sensation that ate away at his insides had numbed. Slipping back into his own mind, he found himself standing out in the open, on top of the cliff of the summit, standing in the cold, bitter snow, coated in the blood of dozens of men. Yet also, he found himself facing a young Drachman soldier, shaking in her torn garments, beaming up at him with a tear stained smile, a ray of hope shining upon her eyes as the despair that plagued her faded away. The tall Drachman executioner's initial look of confusion, from snapping back to his senses, was quickly replaced with a familiar smile, brimming with warmth in this frozen graveyard. So blissful, did the man with blood on his hands feel, knowing that he had at least helped this woman, saved her from the forces that threatened her very life. If he could just do that for everyone in Drachma, if he could protect every one of his people, keep them safe and grant them peace and happiness, that was all he needed.

"You're safe now, comrade" spoke the blood stained man in soft words that escaped in his still heavy breathing, such a look of soft and tender kindness in finding new peace in this tragedy.

"C-comrade Ivanka...! I... I am grateful... you saved me. These pigs were going to ruin me, kill me, I would have died if it weren't for you... I would have... t-thank you, I owe you alo--"

And then the girl's warm, red life splattered across Ivanka's face, and the world turned grim and red in an instance. His eyes were wide, quivering in a dance of violet coloured shock and confusion, gazing back into the the vacant stare of the dismembered girl, her life ebbing away, no, already gone. Yet he could not tear his gaze from that cold, icy stare, even as the man who held her head like a trophy ridiculed them both loudly.

"You are quite the obedient puppet, little brat. So stupid, so naive, so retarded. You have done exactly as I wanted you to do,"

His speech was like an incomprehensible mess of noise. Though Ivanka understood the individual, harsh Amestrian words, he could not wrap his broken thoughts around them.

"That expression on her face was priceless too! That hope, small lingering hope, just snuffed out in a sweep of a blade, HAH! Pathetic in the end, you saved NOBODY. Your little Drachman bitch just died, just like that, and you could not do a damn fucking thing."

Save.....her? He had failed to save her? He hadn't......there.....Ivanka grabbed at fleeting thoughts, searching for some meaning, some definition, some understanding of this unbearable sorrow that gripped at his heart, but they all just withered and died, fading away, elluding him. Why....why.....why.......why did he feel such burdening agony and pain....such misery......Anya.......Father......he wanted to die....he had failed......he couldn't save.....Ivanka lifted a trembling hand to his face, pressing it tightly against his chilled skin, pressing against it until it hurt, with some foolish notion that it might relief him of the intolerable screaming that filled his mind. But there was no escape from it...the screaming....the terrible screaming...the pleas for help.....crying for him.....he couldn't save.......

"Ooooh, look at me. So happy I was saved! But then the dashing Stuka came along and killed me... HANDSOMELY. He is SOOOO awesome, what more can us stupid Drachmans ask for? He took the time out of his life to kill our STUPID BUTTS. We REALLY deserve that, because we are FILTHY COMMUNISTS. HAW HAW HAW."

A derranged smile, a warped and twisted grin, eerily similar to the smile of benevolence he once wore graced Ivanka's face, yet perverted, a maddened look, a cruel sadistic glimmer in his eyes. No.....he hadn't failed to save anyone. They were taken from him, their lives were stolen from him by those bastards, those depraved evil monsters. The pure malevolence of each was concentrated into this very man, this man was the reason for everything.....

"Ooooh, please oh please save us, you lovable Drachman walrus you, because all of us are USELESS, that's why we got our BUTTS KILLED AND PROFOUNDLY SHARED BY THOSE NICE CAPITALIST AMESTRIANS!"

Ivanka stepped forward, slowly, beaming down at the evil Amestrian man, the very incarnation of all that had sought to destroy him and all that he loved. A wicked smile, violent eyes, a cruel, gleeful charm, all these things radiated from Ivanka as he moved forward, his resolve increased ten fold and warped beyond recognition. "I wonder" sneered the titan, as he pulled the massive sledgehammer from off of his back, slowly, ejoying every little thought he entertained of what he would do to this man once he wrapped his fingers around his scrawny neck. "-if that tongue of yours will still be flapping about when I am ripping it out of your throat."

He would destroy this man, he would grind him into dust. There would be nothing left of him in this world, nothing left of evil in this world.

And suddenly, something had hit him across the face, something he hadn't seen as he was so focused on the man in front of him. "GET A FUCKING GRIP ON YOURSELF!"

"M-marismo?" When did she.....Ivanka's conscience was lost to a cloud of indefinable thoughts once again. Marismo....was she....had she been there all that time? What had just happened? Ivanka's head began to pound with pain once again. He squeezed his eyes shut as Marismo continued to yell at him, with tears streaming down her face. "Did you forget that they are people too? Who do you think you are, God? Does your judgement mean more than theirs? I don't understand...what is wrong with you. You aren't like this... These are human beings, Ivanka. What are you?" . What....what was he? Why....why was she....who was Ivanka? No...no no no no.....Ivanka was.....the protector.....of....of what? Maris-.......Anya? Why?.....

"I wonder... what would happen if I pulled the trigger. Would I end up like all these men with eaten dreams? Would I die? Or am I already dead... Is that why...I'm the only one that sees what you're doing as wrong?"

Ivanka's eyes shot open, a violet mess of confusion, of sorrow, of fear, of pain, of worry. He stared at the gun in her hand, stared at her finger that edged towards the trigger. He was lost, he wasn't sure what to do...he wasn't sure if.... "Marismo" he spoke, his voice quiet and defeated, drained of any vigor or bliss, "do....do you hate me, Marismo?".

The answer never came. A flash of movement from out the corner of his eye, Ivanka's body reacted before his mind could even process what had happened. A hot flash of pain tore at Ivanka's senses, his vision blurred, his body quaked, struggling to stand. He stood between the three of them, in between the Amestrian soldier and Marismo, standing tall, like a unmovable statue, shielding her body from his killing blow. Slowly, Ivanka Kolokovsky reached down and gripped the blade of the sabre that had penetrated deep into his stomach, gripping it tightly as he swung his mighty hammer down upon its wielder, who's image began to darken and blur as the world around him lost all definition.......

[Guest]

Puppeteer played the marionette doll around, toying, kindling the rage. Exhaling the cold breathe of Winter, cold as the death that was caused and toyed around with aplenty. His heart was soothed by the most beautiful expression of rage that settled into the giant that stood before him, one whom stood shorter to the gaze of the Colonel. It was perceived wrongly. It was not the Colonel trapped into a fight with the Drachman giant, it was the Drachman giant that was the most unfortunate to be caught with the Colonel of all people in Amestris. A spider's web that extended and tangled, invited by merely... attention and boldness. Such pleasant things those were.

Grinning a mad one, receiving such expressions of malevolence from Ivanka quite well. What was this feeling? What was the warmth that pumped through his veins? The heightened feeling of his surrounding? Was this... expectation? It was strange, it compelled him. Why did he have no control of this? Why is it coming unexpectedly? This compulsion to end... these Drachmans he slew, those whom he decapitated, ordered dead, raped, destroyed, whatever. They were measly, small, pebbles.

He was roused by the one in front of him, never had he felt the killing intent to strike and violently mutilate, CRUSH until nothing came. Interesting. So this is what a monster feels like... treasures and boons.

Fading...

He was no longer there, no longer the span of attention. No longer existent. His was the domain of shadows.

The fool-girl would yell, would shout and shriek of killing. Naive little girl. She has no place in the battlefield. Her existence was nothing more than the stone by the side of the road, she barely... reflected. She barely can quench such thirsts. The itch that must be SATED.

A fatal mistake.

A sharp end thrusts, sharpest of points, like the hot butter it ran through such strong muscles, a blur of a strike. Her life was that not ended, but thwarted in such measures. Spared. An irony of the greatest. The monster barraged by the hot nip of scolding averted the very death she preached against.

Escape presents itself, backup flew, as the wings of salvation bore weapons.

BOOM!!!

Escape disappeared, backup descends like the fumes of Hell, the wings of salvation made tame, weapons forced lame. A jet soared past, clear views of the Kremlin from behind the Amestrian was seen collapsing, nothing was the helicopter's crash a long distance away to the destruction that was the proudest symbol of all, headquarters and icon.

The very symbol of Drachma itself.

Survivors, two of Drachma's, and three of Amestris's. Quint. A 3:2 odds decided by a paper thin margin. EXCITING. It fondled Nikolaus's glee, he is starting to love this war more than the disappointing "Dietrich" war, which had many lacking and oomph.

The black of the Security Colonel was intangible, what should have been hit wasn't, the hammer crushed unto the snow, yet proof he existed and was no means of insanity Ivanka produced, was the saber still lodged inside. Indeed he was the blur. Presenting himself a few feet to the Drachman bear's rightmost flank, his war trophy, that being the head he decapitated, was flung at the inconvenient-battlefield-nagging girl's temple with force purposed in knocking her down.

Brandishing in a quick moment a special knife at hand where the saber used to be, dexterously pulled from the sheathe that held it so, eyes shot at Ivanka. Sincerely smiling at him, it lacked the temperament of madness which afflicts Stuka so.

Closing the distance in a short time, too little time in a surprising burst, halting suddenly at Ivanka's side where the hammer's head was closest, inches away a gap. It was not hesitation, but something else entirely, killing intent was ever so present in the Colonel, deflecting such notions of hesitation. His gaze screamed testament to lives ended in huge abundance in pursuit of wicked ends made so by the means, despite such apt and undeserving silence.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Keh, people. People and all their emotions. The loud banter--slaps and kisses Aurel was sure he would never fully understand. What were people? What constituted the chemical reactions of feelings and other things that lead to such strange actions? He would never know. Oh no, but Aurel did not want to know; he wanted to destroy it. To destroy that which made him question life--to recreate it in his own image of pure existentialism. He clutched the edges of his black coat, wild eyes skimming the room just as the lights went out and the white-haired Greed was gone out the door from whilst he came. And the power was completely out. Glorious darkness whispered in shadows that now overtook all that had been light. That had been one gold and diamonds, clean glass and white snow now bathed in the darkness. And darkness was all the same.

He turned fluidly to where he heard Hild's footsteps going up stairs in pitch black. Wondering if she even noticed the change, he called to her in a velvet voice. "Hild, you are going up when we must be going down. It is time to give Nyx her reward." He raised his chin, squinting through rays of moonlight to see her pale face cast in shadows. Oh where had his sweet, innocent Hild gone? Had he done this to her? Somewhere along the line she had become...this. Always having been secretly malicious, she let the secret now fall away. It made him feel something akin to sadness. It was almost like that time...he regretted intensely. He remembered the pain still. The look on his step father's face as he felt himself collapse in a bloody heap. He could still see the blood as it stained the carpet beside his head and Hild's whines of pain. They were not related, but something had related them. Mirror shards coated in warmth from inside, the desire to die, the desire to prevent it. Why she had cared--no--why she cared about his life was something Aurel could also not fathom. Death happened so quickly. He would never know. He only knew when he lived through the suicide attempts and woke up alone or woke up to tears that told him to stop. But he never stopped. Just as he would never stop making her dreams come true. He wanted to tell her that--that he was doing all this for her...just for her because he could die and be happy to be rid of it all. He didn't want gratitude, but that gleam in her eyes was something new. ...Something about her he was finding that he didn't like--something that scared him. Through the darkness he saw it clearer.

And then the lights went back on, the sounds of generators roaring somewhere below in the deep where so many faces streaked with tears gazed up from below the depths of their own ego. Despairing without truly knowing why, fearing without knowing of what. It had only one name: death. And it was the one thing Aurel could never obtain. She stopped him every time. He wanted to die because pretending killed him while still breathing--he wanted to die because people untied the careful threads of his soul. And Aurel didn't even know if he had a soul. He wanted to find out--to see if he would truly know he was gone. All he knew was that the suffering would stop. Hild enjoyed suffering, but she couldn't stand ever seeing him fall to it. So...he hid it. Now, he hid it and she stopped. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her maniacal laughter, and touch it when his fingers brushed just gingerly across the shapes in her pearl skin. Knives lost their meaning, cries of anguish fell on deaf ears. Who were they anymore? Had everything that made Hild human vanish in the wake of his own viciousness? He cursed himself further, cascaded lower into the dungeons he locked his ego in and stared it down until only a pile of ashes remained on the cement floor. No, there was nothing here for himself. Only Hild. It was only Hild and his anchor was slipping.

He watched her turn to look at him, but the blue and red of his eyes quickly shifted to capture the green glow of the keypad in front of the old wooden door. They would see him again--those he had captured--those that no longer had anything left in this world. The door creaked open. He saw the rugged figure standing there in the dark, watching, waiting, smelling of an animal although borne from a human. Aurel's fingers clutched the handle of the door, skin holding hard to cold metal that made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. Aurel was made in a lab, woken in a tank of liquid that made him breathe not air. He was a creature that lived off blood, with fangs and beady eyes that now had color. Color...what a human ideal. In darkness there was nothing but cold, hard, reality. His eyes flickered across the boy's ashy hair and eyes that blending in with everything around him. They gleamed in the light pouring down from the steps were Aurel stood in all his glory, looking back. And behind the boy...were a hundred eyes moaning in contempt, already having embraced the end. They, too, knew that this man--someone like this could bring nothing but results...because Aurel's master plan was flawless.

He heard Hild behind him and found himself already at the bottom of the stairs, a hand on the boy's shoulder. Surealis; the boy that had wanted to stay down here to wait. Without light...without...anything. So intriguing to say the least that Aurel himself felt shivers. All the vial human emotion wafting off their stinking bodies was enough to make the tall man wish to exit the premises and continue to worship the day when he too would join them in the violent throws of a death one knew was coming. He knelt on the floor, shooting a precarious look at Hild's single, vibrant, razing eye. He knew everything from just a look...everything, but something was missing. Was it not what people called sanity? Had something snapped in her to make her able to stand there and watch? She would have said something--would have at least smiled before, but... Aurelius didn't know. And as he had promised, allowed nothing to hold him back from Hild's immediate goal. Peace. He would obtain peace for her even if he himself had to turn into the King of Hell. But she would never be his queen.

Rough hands over chalk, raven hair lifting up in the blows of pure and utter power. The basement darkness was filled with light, blazing to shed the brunt of horror on the sacrifice's faces. Without thinking, they clutched one another, not knowing anything but drips running down their spine. And then that too was gone. They and everything that they were was gone. Their souls melding together in a mash of screams and cries for a savior that would never come. Aurel lifted his hands up from the floor, standing up on wobbly feet and stooping to remove a single, rather small philosopher's stone. He held it up to the light bleeding through from the door and turned away from the scene back to Surealis. A canny smile formed of his lips laced with exhaustion and the truth that at any moment he would lose all will to continue living, continue walking... And he was back up the stairs, focusing small irises in the artificial light. He held out the stone like an offering to god, feeling lighter and lighter, but oh so heavier. His heart slammed against his rib cage, his vision slanted from overexertion because few made a stone without being lured into it themselves...

It slid easily into his pocket and he felt his legs sink down so he was sitting in the middle of the floor just like that, staring listlessly out into the white snow. In a daze, he watched the wind blow lightly over it, twisting figments of ice all over each other like sand in an hourglass about to run out. But it was so cold here...surely the snow would live forever.

[Theo Chulainn]

Her fingers pressed to his lips softly, making his heart stop for a long painful minuet. It was almost a kiss and he wouldn’t give for right now to just sweep her up and make it real. But the smell of distant smoke told him that right now. In the flames of war that were calling to them that this was not the time. She knew it too as she shed the raw fear and put the cover of a commander on. He smiled softly as she stepped ahead of him and address the orders. HE followed his expensive shoes crunching in the snow as they trekked to find Spade.

The troop was small and he briefly wondered what experience the little troop had. They all looked like novices shuffling nervously foreword towards the hell before them. They got to the top of the hill and he could feel the heat of destruction below the shout of the Drachma footmen who where running towards them shouting aggressive taunts in the language. “Set your arm phasers from stun to roast!" He turned raising his brow. Oh ha ha Shu…I’m so shoving a handful of snow down your back later. He silently vowed as he took steps foreword. “ Run home little Drachma’s” He said as the wind picked up round him. He raised his hand the transmutation circles on his wrists glowing. Without warning the wind turned into a cyclone and shot down the hill with a blast of hot air knocking back the footmen. He smirked as some took this as a warning to turn tail and run. Taking a step foreword as the cyclone shrank becoming a small size that fitted in his palm he took one final step foreword.

“ Word of advice…..run….” With that he released the cyclone that grew in side shooting down before them sending the scattered footmen flying further. Watching Shula grab a bin lid he kicked up a board of metal which conviantly looked like a snow board standing on it. Reaching down and heating the metal round his shoes so it melted around his feet he jumped down beside her. The wind whipping his face. “ WAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! He hollered as he speed down beside her. Now this was one heck of an entrance.

Sliding to a stop like a pro he watched as Shu span out of control and landed face first in the snow. He would of laughed but the horror entered his vision. Bodies….lots of bodies scattered everywhere. He snapped the board of his feet walking foreword taking the scene in. His shivered softly even though he wasn’t cold. He quickly looked round madly for Spade. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted his coffee drinking friend lying dead in the snow. Eyes opened in a silent scream. Kneeling down he gently closed them. His wife was due there first child in a few months. He shouldn’t of gone to war. He should have been there painting the nursery with her.

Standing once more he refused to look down as the lump in his throat doubled in size. Shaking slightly as he took strides passing the bodies. E couldn’t look weak now. Not when he had Shula to protect. Not when he had his soldiers to lead. Not when he had Spade to find ALIVE! He swore violently if the man was dead he would drag him back to punch him in his stupid face and break his stupid sunglasses while doing it. The man promised a god damn pub crawl and if he died he knew too many people would be broken.

The idiot had to be here. Not dead though. Certainly he couldn’t be dead. The breath he didn’t know he had been holding escaped when he spotted the brunette. But there was someone with him. “BRIGADIER GENERAL!!!” He called as he looked to where Shula was. He was not losing anyone else. NOT ENOUGHER SOUL! After all…He was a selfish rich boy. He ALWAYS got what he wanted even if he had to stamp his feet and throw a tantrum, and dear lord….he could throw one heck of a tantrum now. He charged foreword when suddenly Spade fired his gun and the weapon practically exploded causing him to stop suddenly. Before his eyes in mere seconds there was a bigger explosion making him shield his eyes from the burning light.

Once the heat vanished he looked up to see Spade walk towards them coolly. “He’s dead..” Was all the man could say. Acra nodded ‘At last…it’s---’. The taught died on that track as the rumble and booming noise caused him to wince covering his ears. In seconds the world in Acra’s vision was turned upside down as Spade tackled him. Grabbing his neck and forcing him down. He gave a high pitched yerk like noise as the air escaped him. White turned to blue and grey then to every colour of the rainbow as his head hit the ice and what ever was below it with a sickening crunch. His head spinning and he felt the need to hurl his stomach up as his head pounded and rang. Warm liquid spilling out matting his hair. He winced and gave a moan. His entire world was foggy and he could only be dragged as Spade pulled them to shelter as his world tried to correct itself.

Soon he could tell enough to be able to follow orders and think for himself. Though the thoughts were a little slow and foggy. Quickly they crawled from the jeep cursing as he banged his head again causing his vision to spin again for a brief moment. This was going to be one nasty concussion when they got out of this…Hopefully they would get out of this. A beam of metal threatened to fall but a blast of hot air causing it to melt slightly against the main structure. That threat dealt with so far. Spade shot a wire up and threw them both a line. A way out! Thank you what ever god was loving him right now. Tying a foot hold in the wire so he wouldn’t fall he stepped in and held on looking to Shula to check she was alright. Still a bit dizzy as they were lifted. He couldn’t help but grin as they floated up to the hands of there saviour.

Something wet dripped onto his nose. Blinking he touched a spare hand to it and looked at the red smear on his glove. Huh…that was odd when enough dripped down. Looking up he frowned seeing Spade looked ready to drop. Swearing violently he grabbed the wire twisting it round one hand and swinging towards Shula pulling her close. “ Be Ready to grab the idiot.” In any other situation he would of laughed at how he was giving orders to the newly made Brigadier General. But this was not the time. Maybe later over a beer it will be the time but now it wasn’t.

Using his mouth to rotate the middle section of his wrist shackle he pointed it down. “ Three….” He watched as the air around them stirred gathering round his hands. “ Two…Get ready to catch him….ONE!” It was like a jet plane engine blasting from the palm of his hand. He thanked every god out there that he taught to absorb so much heat. Heck if they made it through this he join Shula for one of Ishballa’s Masses. The effect shot them up like a hot air balloon. He would of whooped at the feeling of shooting up. Now hopefully as he concentrated on getting them onto the solid wing of the thing they were attached to. Shula would Catch Spade before the man feel to his death.

[Guest]

"do....do you hate me, Marismo?" It came so suddenly... something that halted her finger from pulling the trigger--something that made her entire body quiver all at once. Even if she had, death wouldn't come to her...because Momo was already gone. But--but Ivanka wasn't. She didn't--she didn't want him to disappear. The gurgle...it just wouldn't stop spilling out. So much blood...it was everywhere like a painting gone wrong--like an artist gone ballistic. The insanity breached her heart, choking her until nothing came out but tears and a look of horror digging at the souls of green eyes. Why...why did it have to be this way? Was it her...her fault that this was happening? Could she not save anyone? Anyone at all!? Not even...Ivanka.

Whispers of tears soaked into her coat as she took shaky steps through the small distance separating them. Her hand still stung from smacking him. It was red and cold, but now slid softly around his waist from behind. Instantly, she was coated in his color, she felt the warmth, saw the steam rising up under the moonlight, and closed her eyes into the embrace. "I--I love you." Her voice was muffled, dancing in misery as she pressed her face into his back and held back sobs. Please, please let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up below the trapeze and find that I feel during practice again. Please...let me go in his place. "I--Ivanka don't go... I--I..." A shadow...his shadow. She let go slowly, removing herself from him as if tearing apart two pieces of paper glued together. It ripped. And it hurt. Her chest hurt...each and every beat of her heart, searing away at her whole being. This wasn't happening. "Don't pull it out," she whispered and then his hammer smashed against the snow. The man was gone.

But he was right over there. She blinked, shaking salty blond hair out of her eyes, looking up just in time to see something flying at her. "IYAAAAAAAA!" She shrieked and dove out of the way, getting a face full of snow that was so cold it hurt. Thud. It rolled near her, hair...eyes...staring...staring at nothing. Not thinking, not hearing, not attached. Oh god. Her hands flew over her mouth and she jumped to her feet, stomach swirling in knots. She swallowed the bile that burned like the snow, ignoring the water droplets melting down her face that still somehow tasted like soy sauce, and turned to the man that had thrown the Drachman woman's head at her. How...could another human do such a thing. How...?! She saw he reach for something and...and...!! Marismo was already standing so close to Ivanka that she could smell the iron in his blood--she was already so close. Just...one step. And she took that step between Ivanka and the Amestrian soldier. Holding out her arms, she stared him straight in the face.

"FUCKING STOP RIGHT THERE, BUDDY. Who the hell do you think you are barging in on our conversation?" She held up the gun she had been pointing at her own temple and now pointed it at his. "Did it look like I was done with him? And what is with throwing a fucking severed head at me? This isn't a goddamn headless horseman horror film or some shit. ... Look, he's already dying so get lost." She scoffed, kicking the head away from where it lingered around her feet. "And don't worry about me. I'm actually not here...I'm like what they call a specter or something... go ahead try and kill me. I'll just end up putting a fucking bullet between your eyes. Go pillage elsewhere; you are no longer needed here you fucking insane sack of lunatic."

[Dai]

"WAKEY WAKEY FUCKERS! ITS A FUCKING PARTY SO WHERE'S YOUR SHOES?!" A voice. The man turned around hurriedly, looking directly at the source of those tones that automatically seemed to piss him off. Growling slightly, the redheaded man slowly began to walk otwards that source, steps going along the crackling ground, a slightly annoyed smirk on his face as he did so. Strange. That voice had a way of just getting to him, did it not? The annoyance slowly lifted off of his face as he continued to walk, getting around the building to face the man who had blown away one of his guards, and then the second one. Luckily, the rest of his team was in the building and at the ready, so there were only two here to worry about. His own men had started to return fire on the bastard, and Dai was still in cover, the long-haired redhead not quite out in the open just yet. It wasn't the right time, not yet. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the wall, listening for anything else that may occur, "Jiggle it, jiggle it, SHAKE THAT THING!" The man skipped, and then whistled. Skipped..? Dai shook his head to make sure he wasn't seeing things...before... crap. His face darkened at the sound of the explosion, not needing to turn around to see what was behind him. Fine. Slowly standing up, Dai reached onto his thigh, and slipped a short-staff off of the leg, before whipping it out to full length and smirking. He didn't need deadly weapons to deal with people like this. As the man started to approach the other corner, Dai slowly started to walk out, his obviously non-Drachman uniform instantly recognized by the men in the white suits, who immediately reacted by pulling out their pistols. His lips curved into a soft smile.

"Such brutish weapons." Taking his left, gloved hand, Dai flicked the fingers on it a couple of times, gathering static electricity within the modified pyrofex. Releasing his Alchemy with a blue electric glow, the sudden burst of electromagnetism boosted the size of the natural electromagnetic field around his body, making it larger and catching the bullets as the men started firing at him. To this, Dai could only sigh, laughing and shaking his head, "Now, now. Really, you're all so violent. Can we not settle our differences in other ways?" Nope? No reply? Awww... With a sigh, the man suddenly ran forwards, the men in white clothing holding shocked looks on their faces as their bullets didn't hit the man in the Amestrian clothing. They tried to move away as he got closer, but the first one felt the sting of his bo staff on the back of his head, as he was knocked to the side by the redhead's maneuver. Grinning, Dai turned to the other man, who had just started running away, and was already in the distance. Sigh. Reaching down to his hip, he slid out a small pistol and took aim, firing one of his Dual Moon pistols; a tranquilizer bullet, hitting the man in the back of the neck and felling him within seconds. Turning towards the third man now, Dai took a second to study this imposing man, who hadn't seemed to have reacted at all. Regaining his own composure, Dai flicked the bo staff closed and narrowed his eyes. That calmness... he was certainly a higher-up of these men.

"Simply staying like that, even as your men are knocked away? Interesting composure. However, I'm afraid that we may have to fight, even if I don't want to... Th'name's Lieutenant Colonel Daigoro Ito, of Fort Briggs. May as well get the formalities out of the way..." His hands at the ready, one of them slid around to grip the handle of one of his Twin Suns. He would be prepared for anything that came to him from now on...

{Sorry Jay, and Nika, but I needed to get things moving.}

[Guest]

They were not alone. There were people in the air.... Even as the gunshots began to ring out within the building, the shouts had already begun. His men were moving in, drawing closer. It wouldn't be.... Ahhhhh ABOUT GODDAMN TIME! A man came into view with distinctive red hair and blazing eyes, narrowing his eyes as he merely observed as his men would... dispose... WHAT THE FUCK. An eyebrow raised very slowly as he watched the mans alchemy unfold, casually smoking his cigarette with the grenade launcher still resting against his leg. Huh. Well, well, fucking well..... This Amestrian man, this soldier.... He had to have files on him. He always did. He didn't observe or risk doing business with these schmucks without files on clearly major players. ALWAYS on alchemists. God damn motherfuckin' cocksuckers who suck on every fucking teat that.... Ahhh... now he was being unfair.

Clearly, this wasn't quite fair simply because alchemy was a tricky thing to go up against, but to see one of his men simply turn tail like a fucking yellow back? "FUCKING PUSSY YOU DESERVE TO HAVE YOUR RECTUM RIPPED OUT AND SHOVED DOWN YOUR GODDAMN THROAT! I don't pay you to run LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH." He barked at the man as he hightailed it away from Dai. And then he got shot! What the fuck did he fucking expect--..... hold on. He weren't dead. Unconscious? WHAT. THE...... This guy... what the hell? Was he a goddamn pacifist? Or a pussy? BULLSHIT. He had to change this. He would not stand for this. Drawing hard on his fag, his tattooed brow raised, DBSM twisting over his covered eye. Letting the cig fall to the ground, he stomped it out in the snow, straightening up as he brought the grenade launcher up.

"Simply staying like that, even as your men are knocked away? Interesting composure. However, I'm afraid that we may have to fight, even if I don't want to... Th'name's Lieutenant Colonel Daigoro Ito, of Fort Briggs. May as well get the formalities out of the way..." Hold the fucking banana phone, ITO?! The biggest, meanest grin you ever saw began to spread across Takatori's face as a chuckle built up in his throat, growing to a laugh as he took a step forward. "Daigoro... Ito, you say? Ain't that fuckin' fantastic." He spoke, tilting his head as he looked at his grenade launcher. So, the man could create a field to stop things. Magnetism of some sort? No... no he couldn't be sure. "Call me Takatori, Lieutenant Colonel Daigoro Ito of Fort Briggs. Lets dance." And with that, he fired off a grenade just to the left of Dai, immediately running to the right amidst reloading. The man had a tranq gun, and the ability to stop bullets. Defensive. Fucking joyous. Whistling shrilly, another rocket came blazing off towards the pair of them, the mob boss diving into the snow and rolling as it exploded upon Dai. He didn't bother to stop and confirm, he doubted that either had done anything. With his coat flapping behind him, he reached into one of his sleeves, drawing out a surprisingly long dagger. Mmmmhehehehehehehe..... Ohhhh the possibilities.... Had to be related to the Fox. Had to. But did he know? Doubtful. None but those involved should know. So...Lets have some fucking fun.

Reloading carefully, four MiW came darting out of the buildings in the area, the first holding a longsword, the second a rapier, the third a glave, and the fourth a whip. The smoke and fire was still clearing, but they maintained a safe distance, each watching carefully for movement. These people weren't dumb, these were some of his operatives. Assassin's he sent out. They knew what they were doing. They shouldn't disappoint him. He snarled and shot off another grenade towards the right, just in case Dai had run. No, he wanted his goddamn fun here, and he would have it if he had to burn the fucking world.

[Guest]

A CAGED BEAST, UNLEASHED INTO THE PIT'S OF CHAOS!

Even though it was pitch black, he could see. Even though that everyone around him begged mercy, he did not care. Even though he could sense fear in the air, he just thrived off it. Every object in this basement, every person was painted in his mind. His echo location traits worked perfectly as he could see everything in such a vivid way. The darkness was not his enemy but his friend as it clocked his appearance from everyone. He could move around like the sneaky assassin he could be and just murder anyone who was down here. He could sense their fear and those who tried to stay strong were scared shitless of what was to come. They called him the cage keeper, the guard of nightmares however those who knew this man called him other names. The king of beasts was one that most knew, his pride had gave him this title however the organisation he ran with knew him as FACE. However he did not call himself such silly names, this boy creature was human in flesh yet had chimera blood woven through his DNA. He was called Surealis or so he was told since he could remember, having a composed list of some of the worlds greatest animals he was born a monster and one that only followed his own rules. Timber wolf, crow, gecko and bat these were Surealis genetic make up along with his human side.

Waiting for his 'friends' to come down and pay him a visit he had plenty of time to think about what he could hear upstairs. His enhanced hearing made it easy to hear past the thin floor boards where the group of at least five were. He heard a few names however Surealis knew what was going to happen every second of today, Aurelius had already told him. Even though the idea of surprises made Surealis excited he was already looking forward to the next stage. The sound of the hundreds of prisoners moaning got louder as the door opened, the sound of the door knob being twisted made him smirk. His fangs bearing as he stretched his fingers as his nails grew sharper; Surealis was bearing his claws today. He knew who was descending down into the basement as Aurelius came closer to him Surealis just smiled and in a twisted and demonic voice with a sadistic smile he said, “Welcome to my den of vice and sin, just leave your soul at the door.” He chuckled as Aurelius stuck his hand onto his shoulder. Looking him directly into the eye as if he was looking through him, Surealis was not scared of him even If he was stronger. He was not going to back down against someone who thought himself as the master puppeteer, even if Surealis was acting like it. He too had his own plans for this world...

“What do I owe the pleasure Aurelius , showing off your girls to me? I have guarded the sacrifices like you asked, I have done everything in an effort as much as I can. I've would have liked to chop these fools in half and feast on their guts while drinking their delicious blood. Yet I have restrained myself now I hope you better not fuck up.” From his voice alone you can tell Surealis was aggravated.

As he spoke Aurelius was doing his things, in a instant a flash busted out of nowhere like a flash-bang had just went off. Surealis could not see for a mare second as the light faded he saw what had become of the sacrifices. Their souls had been harnessed and melded into this little red stone. It must have been what they called a philosopher’s stone. Something that could defy god and his laws of equivalent exchange. This was the stone that could make Surealis human or so he had been told. Yet was it worth doing things for such a stone? Maybe he didn't want to change. All these emotions ran through his mind for a second clouding his vision from his pure thoughts. Shaking his head he saw Aurelius make his way up the stairs. Surealis decided to make haste and follow to see Aurelius 's offering to the lord. “Well you did it, guess I do underestimate you Aurelius .”

However even though this man had conquered such a feet and created the elixir of miracles he could nothing but sit on his ass! Surealis didn't care for the amount of energy it took to create it. If it was in his hands the world would already start to kneel before him. He walked over to Aurelius and bent down onto him. Making sure to look him in the eye he did what not many would ever do in their life time. Touch him... Running his fingers down his cheek he dug his finger in just against his skin so he did not bleed nor get scratched. It was a sign, a sign of respect. Falling down to his level Surealis ripped the right side of his shirt to revile his neck. He growled gently as he stretched his neck out offering it. As if Surealis was saying something along the lines of 'Take my energy.' His pitch black eyes with the tiniest yellow pupils continued to look into him as he waited, waited for him to accept such a gift. After all, what was a better gift other then one's own blood?

[Guest]

Chaos. Complete, and utter chaos. Phones and radios were going off the hook as calls flooded in about the various sectors under attack. Towns and villages to the South were getting annihilated, battles were erupting everywhere, communications were still down in certain area's... The tall dark man was less than pleased. It was almost like those striking crimson eyes of his were glowing like a terminators, his face partially covered in shadow by his bangs. His hands were a flurry of motions as he pointed from the map along various area's, indicating what he wanted done and where. Various markings and erasures were distinct, papers scattered everywhere as more kept piling up, fresh and equally upsetting.

"Sir, the south is reporting-
"-Reports aren't coming in from quadrant-"
"Sir, what would-"
"Aye sir, enacting-
"No response, they-"
"Sir-"
"Sir-"
"Sir-"

More and more voices and sounds cascaded upon each other, and each was interrupted by a curt, to the point order from him. His city, his people, his nation was at risk. And he was hardly keeping up. There were reports of one particular soldier who was doing an excellent job of taking care of those accursed Amestrians. He wanted to personally thank this man if possible once this... this... shit was over with. No... He couldn't tolerate this. Raping and pillaging.... And Drachman's were called savage. This was the bloodbath, the circles of hell that they were diving into and nobody, NOBODY was coming out unscathed. He would make damn sure of that. The jaws were yawning, waiting, feasting.... The demons had made their move. It was time to make his.

But then it happened.

Everything had gone silent for a moment as that plane crashed into the center of their beloved city. The center of their power. A symbol to the people, to him. A representation of what was, their government, their heart. And now... it was in ruin. Then the radio's started up. Ohhhh but everything was hushed. All were scared to look in the direction of the Head of Defense standing over his desk, the room seeming to darken as a low tone hummed as if there were a rumbling in the earth. And those eyes.... that glow only intensified as he slammed a hand down onto the desk. It wasn't a loud bang, it wasn't jarring or demonstrative of anything. It was merely very, very calm. But it was as if an aura exuded from him. A very... Well, frankly it was as if Arucard was letting his blood hounds out to feast upon the damned and depraved.

His scythe slid out of its sheath, and the room seemed to grow quiet again. "Sir-" He merely raised his head and stared at the poor man who promptly wish he hadn't met that gaze. "Send out the Nightwatch. I want troops dispersed and funneled from the Kremlin to other sectors for more support. Defer to Рамон in my absence." He muttered, noticing how a couple of faces paled at the mention of those special ops. The man who was his second looked up and saluted to him, at least he had maintained his calm. Good. "But sir-"

Zabulon whirled upon this other man, suddenly standing over him with his crimson scythe gleaming in those florescent lights. It was as if the grim reaper stood over him. "Did I stutter Lieutenant?" He asked very cooly, the iciness sending a shiver down the spine of everyone inside that little base of operations. He almost seemed to bend down from his great height, the man leaning further into his chair as sweat clearly beaded upon his forehead. He probably wanted to piss himself. "Нет sir, on it." He murmured and stared shaking into that lord of demons over him. The Head of Defense straightened up and almost seemed to glide for the door, his grip tightening upon his scythe. "Good. Radio me only in case of emergency." He hissed, sliding out of the door and onto the deserted street. The Crimson Testament had entered the playing field.

There were two squads of Amestrians on route to the ruins of his beloved seat of government, those towards the back glancing around with their little rifles. Savages. Barbarians. Raping whores feasting on the teats of the goddess of death. No longer. No more. So when the furthest one back suddenly saw him round a corner almost right into him, they didn't really know what hit them. That bloodthirsty scythe swung across and beheaded him, twirling in his hands as he kept moving forward cutting, his face a mask of... vengeance. That would be the best word for it. It was hard, it was unforgiving, and it was terrifying.

The men before them whirled about and started to back away, but he was too close, his strides just long enough. And he had the element of surprise. He moved with ease amongst their ranks, limbs and blood flying as an offering towards the heavens, splashing that hot liquid against his body. Then the bullets began to fire. Breaking into a run, his legs pushed him onward, aiming strikes when he was able as he circled about the shrinking group. He had to pull away as the bullets drew closer, arcing in his run towards a rather narrow alleyway. A grenade went off upon his heels, sending him forward, but he made no exclamation. No, he wouldn't give them that satisfaction even as he went rolling in the snow from the force of the explosion. His scythe went flying out before him, slamming into the ground as the corners of his mouth twitched. He could hear the shouts behind him, pushing himself up as he scooped up his weapon with ease. A couple of bullets grazed against his leg and arm, his eyes narrowing as he darted down that alleyway. They shouted behind him to follow in their disgusting tongue, but he darted down an alley that separated it in the center. They barely knew where they were going the fools.

He came out further down the street, slowing enough to see how many he may be facing. There were only two. Easy pickings. Drawing a throwing knife from within his coat, he cast it forth before tearing down the street towards those scum. It buried itself into the womans skull and she toppled over without a sound. The other woman was quick to react. Bullets whizzed past him as he dodged the best he could, shifting the grip upon the shaft of his scythe, extending his reach as the blade whizzed upwards in a malicious gleam. It slid through her torso like butter. More shouts, they had realized their error, throwing another grenade towards the entrance to the alley he had led them down. Tricks don't work twice. He leaped far enough away, narrowing his eyes as a man poked his rifle out slowly moments later. Down came the blade, off came his hands. The Amestrian swine screamed in pain, blood spraying everywhere to stain the snow. Then the rest followed as he cut the rest to pieces. Still five left.

Backing up, he reached down and picked up one of those infernal grenades off of one of the bodies, pulling out the pin and throwing it down the alleyway as he bolted past with his scythe in hand, blood trailing off from the blade. The shouts were cut off quite promptly. Idiots. But how many were left? A man came into view before him shakily, clearly in shock from how quickly things had gone to hell for his men. He couldn't even fire his gun. His death was quick, his head rolling across the ground. Zabulon stood there, a bit out of breath not that he really showed it, pausing there as he waited and listened. Plit. Plit. Plit. That was merely the lifeblood upon that crimson scythe, staining the blade with the lives of those splayed out in his wake. Silence. He waited longer. Still nothing. Good. The two squads were dead. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and glanced towards the empty skyline where the Кремил used to stand, a bloodied hand brushing the hair from his eyes. The fires had extinguished in the slightest, but the rage burned on. How low would humanity sink? Its depravity sucked those around it in, and he knew he was no better. Turning slowly, he stared at all the death he had caused and he felt... nothing. They were the enemy, and they had destroyed his city. Destroyed his people. And so the Head of Defense stepped into an empty cafe, pulling out his phone to check in with his men back at the base of operations. His work here was done.

[Guest]

It all happened so quickly. His butchering, the Brigadier General's response, and apparently enemy reinforcements arriving. In fact, it probably happened in the span of seconds. The Brigadier General was clearly pissed, but Hei was confused. All this time, he thought that the General had moved. Ran off for cover, or perhaps out of his line-of-sight and would be shooting at him or something. But, no ... he had been standing there? Or well, was, as he was now drawing closer with what seemed to be a twisted, murderous or psychotic smile.

The Xingese-Drachman was tempted to rush forward and tear his head off, just because there was something about the man's face that he hated. Irrational, but it didn't come from his hate of Amestrians, either. But he didn't. He didn't because he saw a dozen or more troops riding in from down the street, clearly not a part of the Drachman military. And, unfortunately, it did not occur Hei to start running at that moment. For in the confusion presented by the South Troops and their Commanding Officer (and his eyes were drawn towards the garbage can lid thrown at him), the Brigadier General of Central turned and fired.

He was on his knees, still crouched over the corpse of his latest kill (the headless Central soldier, whose brains were now liquified and spread all over the ground). So, naturally, he had a bit of trouble getting up. In fact, the snow, was not helping him get off the ground either: By the time he had managed to stand upright and fall down on his knees again, the blast from the enemy's gun was soaring towards him. So, he did the next thing that was physically possible besides dodging. He placed his already leveled right arm in front of him, and braced it with his left placed parallel (vertically) to it. At the very least, this blast that seemed to be like a shotgun, wouldn't nail him in the face. ... and given how he was done on the ground, now, due to slipping, there was less of him to get struck. But still . . .

'Ohhhh shit. This ... is gonna hurt ...'

And indeed it did as the explosion alone knocked him back quite a ways, blasting and mostly scorching his right arm while also searing the rest of his available and exposed body. The man-clad-in-black soon had a flaming arm, but given that conscious thought now left him, he just feel forward and doused out the flames in the snow (but not before there were burns in the first place). And thus, ended the life of Hei. Or was it? No, he was alive, just the sheer current had knocked him out. Now, as to how long he would be out could be anyone's guess, seeing as he had gone through all sorts of ridiculous situations like this before and lived (and recovered).

So, DOWN THE KREMLIN CAME! It's impact against the ground sent enough of a quake to send Hei rolling over and facing upwards. Though still unconscious. People were screaming. The unfortunate unevacuated civillians were screaming. Amestrian soldiers who did not expect the Kremlin to fall apart by a giant airship smashing into it screamed. Drachman soldiers at the sight of the Kremlin falling down screamed (in anger). Screaming, screaming, screaming. And then all went quiet save for the sounds of war, more explosions, gunfire, and agitated voices calling out in the night.

. . . He was done for about ... five minutes? Five minutes before groaning, his mind still needing to recover from the shock. Unfortunately for him, a pair of Amestrians happening to check for vitals of their comrades nearby heard him. And given that they were aware that this fellow was supposed to be dead, needless to say, they were concerned.

" ... Hey ... did that guy just groan?"
"Shit! You think he's still alive?!"
"N'aw, can't be. Brigadier General Spade shot him dead on. It's probably one of our own guys, next to him."
". . . Wouldn't hurt to, well ... y'know ... check if that Drachman's really dead?"
"You do it."
"NO!"
"You suggested he's still alive, you go deal with it. I'm NOT getting close to him"

The idle chatter of the two brought clarity to Hei's mind, but ... he still felt. Dead.

'Oh god. I got sent to an Amestrian Hell and that's why there's soldiers talking in Amestrian right now, isn't it?' Hei's mind pondered, before registering that he was cold. ... Or really his right arm was in immense pain as well as cold. Perhaps he could move, now? No. Something was wrong with him, his body ached all over, but there was also something else wrong ...

That realization was about when he, through his mask, noticed that there was a face standing over him. ... With a gun pointed into his head. Standing over by his right side. Could he just . . . Wait. Amestrian, standing over him. Did that mean he got taken down by the invaders? . . . Oh god, yes. He did. It was true. He, while trying to fight back, had been taken down. BUT NOT ONLY THAT, his life had been spared and he was a prisoner to the Amestrians! AS IF!

His arm, reacting to the anger that welled up from the revelation, snapped upward, claws extended and arm slowly morphing. It took a single swipe to grab ahold of the gun in the Amestrian's hands and crush into into a handful of metal and plastic. And then his clenched fist launched up and struck the fellows in the bowels, definitely above the groin as last thing Hei wanted to do was to strike there of all places. Over, the Amestrian fell, clutching the stricken area as Hei scrambled up. It was a bit ... odd, his body wasn't moving quite as he wanted it to. His movements seemed ... dulled. God, he had to get out of here!

Fortunately for Hei, the Kremlin's walls just so happened to bring him ever closer to the corpses that held his blades. And the second Amestrian was screaming like a little girl about zombies or something or other. He hadn't the nerves to be an appropriate soldier and instead had turned to run back, hopefully to seek shelter. The Xingese, having come yet again close to death, was not amused. He was in no mood to die again, so, the weapons of his were collected unceremoniously as he bounded (struggling to keep balance and even footing) to this fleeing soldier. Grabbed him by the neck, turned him around, and slammed his reinforced skull against the enemy's head. It was enough to daze him for Hei to pick him up with a spare arm and run off.

Yes. Hei had just survived a blast of lightning, got up minutes afterwards, punched a soldier in the gut, pick up his weapons, and kidnapped another soldier. And now he was running off under the cover of darkness at breakneck speed westward.

If he was getting shot at, he suppressed the pain. If he was shot at by something that would have taken him out, well, he was already in motion so it was unlikely for it to be fatal. Either way, he was going to get the hell out of here and test the nutritional value of the Amestrian that was in his hands.

- - - - - - - (Away from present location, all non-fatal attacks are automatic if called by anyone in their posts as Hei runs off) - - - - - -

That was about ... ten? Twenty minutes ago? The soldier in his hands was dead, dead from being slammed into walls while Hei was breaking into building by building to avoid fire from whatever Amestrians were in the city and still in the streets. Now, he was stuck in a partially demolished building, with a dead Amestrian, and up a floor or two. But for now, he needed to stay out of this mess. His right arm was charred black from whatever it was that had occurred before, and he still had plenty of bullet holes dotting about his body. THUS, The Xingese-Drachman set to work removing bullets (if any) and trying to treat his wounds. Or at least make sure they don't worsen. That, and he was going to eat this Amestrian raw once he was done. Off went Hei humming softly to bandage himself, not noticing that the kidnapped and now deceased Amestrian soldier was from Central ... and that he had a radio set in his belongings. And that Hei could listen in on radio conversations. Well, he could and just might, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

-27-

OOC: I just added the radio bit in for giggles, since while Hei's temporarily not 'fighting' he's still in the mission since he plans on heading back into the fray. Just as soon as he's done eating. So, expected random interjections of Hei laughing mad. For fun. Those lines will be editted out if seen as improper for whatever reason.

[Jay Furor]

Jay stood where she was standing, as Alex handed her some Drachman uniforms and such. "Do you honestly expect ME to go undercover? Alex, not even Johnson could have made me get undercover, and he tried way harder than this! I can't fight in the enemy's clothing, never ever. Nuh uh." She grinned and was about to head off to combat Drachma, when a large group of soldiers attacked from behind. Jay flipped around, and gave a battle cry, smashing the nearest man's face in with Uno. "GET DOWN ALEX! GET DOWN JULIO! There be some commies in this joint! DIE YOU VODKA-GUZZLING EVIL WORSHIPPERS!! In the name of Amestris, I SMITE thee!" And with that, Jay cried into her radio her location, and soon enough her 50 man squad emerged and proceeded into entering combat. Jay herself attacked valiantly with Uno and her katana. Within moments, full out combat was on like donkey kong. But through it all, Jay heard jet engines blare. She turned her head and saw two or three Drachmans filing into Alex's Nighthawk, ready for combat! Not on her watch! Jay charged at them with the force of the mighty Amestrian lion! Rawr!

Jay ran at it, but as she did it began moving. She chased it on foot as it began to take off. With a single cry to the wind, Jay lunged at the vehicle, grabbing the tail fins and clinging on as it slowly began lifting into the air. "NO PLANE SHALL BE STOLEN TODAY! THOU SHALT NOT FLY!!" And with this, she inched slowly to the cockpit door. By then the plane was several dozen feet in the air, when Jay kicked the door open, and swung in. The three soldiers were so confused, they didn't know what had happened. Soldier 1 was the first dead, when Jay threw him out the door, slamming it shut as she did. He fell to the ground and died immediately. She then delivered a solid roundhouse to the second man, and he was out like a busted Christmas tree light. The third one tried to run to the back of the plane to draw his weapon, but Jay got him with a strong left hook to the temple, her automail plowing straight into his skull, crushing his poor brain against the other side of the hollow bone-thing. Drawing her fist from the man's head, she took over at the controls. Ah, she hadn't flown a plane in three years. Oh how she had forgotten the feeling...

So steadily she flew for a good bit, trying to get to a good position to pop a U-ey. Oh but forgetful Jay. The second man began to awaken at that point, and Jay was forced to stop flying and take the time to tie him up. As she returned to the pilot's seat, she heard the familiar pitter-patter of machinegun fire on plane hull. She spotted two enemy units moving towards her from the east and west, and an anti-aircraft gun to the south. With a grin, she swung around, opening fire on Mr. West, quickly striking the crap out of his wings until he went down. With another easy movement, she flew over the AA gun and dropped a nice and pretty 500 kg package of ETERNAL REST unto them. As they fled in terror, Jay listened for the terrific BOOM of a successful payload. Oh, she LOVED doing that! She began to turn around and hit the other guy but she noticed a flashing sign that stopped her heart. The blinking red light showing that her left wing had been hit, she did what only Jay would do. She swung on a parachute and jumped, no hesitation, and securing her chute with her right hand, opened fire on the enemy plane. With her techno-staff. One second later, the plane was no more and all of Moscow heard a terrifying blast doubling that of the Kremlin's fall, as the plane went down in flames. Her own plane- Rather, Alex's- careened into what appeared to be a very old, large, beautiful cathedral... Well, they could always build a new ancient church. Just a few broken stained glass artworks of long dead artists, no biggie. Anyways, Jay saw that ground troops were trying to gun her from the sky! So she opened fire with Uno once more, eliminating many of them. When she was close enough to the ground, she released the chute and landed firmly on snow.

That was when she saw the tank. It was a beauty, yes it was, and Jay loved tanks most of all! Drachman, it bwas, and guarded by bsome infantrymen. No matter. Jay sprung on them, having emptied Uno, with her Winchestor. Several resounding bangs and the infantry was dead. She dodged the tank's explosivew slug and swung into its blind spot. With her usual grace and ease, she waited for the expected opening of the hatch, when she gunned down the man that emerged to kill her. Seeing her chance, she stood on top of the thing, wasted everyone inside, and climbed in, geared to go. Calling on her radio, she alerted all Amestrian soldiers on her channel that she had stolen a Drachman tank, and was headed southwest, towards Briggs. She'd become tired of war, and was ready to take her tank and go home, having fought her heart out. As she went, she got to have some fun, blowing the mess out of Drachma's infantry and a fair amount of buildings along the way. Soon enough, she had reached Briggs, and from there, went on to Kanama again, with her newfound tank in tow. Fun, fun, fun, fun this was~

[EXIT THREAD- Due to circumstances I have COMPLAINED much about, I am now to be leaving the mission with Jay and Ini, who are set and ready to leave. If possible, I wish for Ak, as Aurel, to NPC Nyx for whatever Nyx needs to do, mission-wise. ^^~]

[Guest]

The battlefield, so hectic, it wreaked of blood and sulfur. It had been so long since he had participated in such senseless bloodshed. Maybe it was his late arrival, maybe it was her focus on the enemy before him, but either way, the man thought of himself of disgustingly foolish, as he came to realize that his determentation to protect the kids of Tristao's guild had caused him to miss the grim situation at hand.

"CATALINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....."

It was the cry, the broken cry of a young man's shattered mind, the corruption of that tiny remaining fraction of childish innocence, full of ideals, free from the ultimate cynicism of life. That was what had wrenched Miguel to the realization of the simple and morbid fact that he was too late, too late to do anything for these kids.

The existence of his enemy, that girl of Esparian features, was lost, and the all attention and focus was brought to the scene behind him, so terrifying and heart wrenching. Another lamentable scene for his anthology of memories, another drink to soften his reminiscences. And behold the tragedy of Esparia's youth, torn by shattered dreams, there lie the strikingly beautiful and strong Amazonian Catalina, her life spilt unto the icy ground, which greedily drank it, leaving her pale and inanimate. And Vito, a young man not to different from Miguel in his youth. Stricken by tragedy and loss, would he be cut down too? Tristao, once capable, he was lost and frightened, his guild, his world collapsing around him. The withering hole in Miguel's mind and heart fell to ruin more, when he had spied Fran, stained in blood, unmoving. Had he lost her too, to the merciless tides of war? No, she stirred yet, the others cared for her yet, they did not mourn her, they did not mourn her like the departed soul of Catalina.


"T-take Catalina... We must find a place to get help for Miss Francesca, and then return to Esparia as soon as possible. Miguel! You must come too. When we have gotten Miss Francesca to safety, we must also contact Valentin. The nearest hospital is a few blocks away. I will take her there myself, if I have to." shouted, no, commanded Vito. In his moment of loss, he had assumed the temporary mantle of leadership. It was......it brought a since of somber pride to the older Esparian, embittered only by the nature of the moment that engulfed them, that tore down the stability and bliss of their lives. The event that he could have prevented, had he been more able......

"I'll be right with you Vito, run ahead, carry Francesca to safety! I will cover you. I will see you at the hospital"

A lie. He had already made up his mind. He was not returning with them. It saddened him, that he would not see Francesca to safety and health, it saddened him still, that he would not be able to see Catalina off, and give his respects with the others. But still, he would prove at least somewhat useful to them yet, he would see the three of them survive this horror....

Quickly, dynamically he sprung from his place, before the enemies around him could react, he had ran in the direction that Vito, Tristao, and Fran headed, as if he were retreating along with them. The Cretan soldiers did not hesitate to pursue their fleeing targets, that had costed them the lives of their comrade. He had counted on this, that wily Miguel. A body, a corpse, a fallen soldier lying in a snowy grave, Miguel's foot collided with the side of his rigid body, and with direction and purpose, Miguel fell to the snow, his arm stretched outward to catch himself. He lied their in wait, a few seconds passed, the crunching snow of his pursuers drew closer, nearly upon him. And as quickly as he had supposedly fallen, Miguel sprang up, facing them, standing in place, his clenched hands raised slowy to the air. The others stopped in turn, pointing their weapons at him. "Freeze", shouted one, the closest one. "Stay were you are". Miguel complied with respect and courtesy, not moving from his place, his hands still stretched out to the sky. With a half-hearted smile, he even opened his clenched hands wide, and let the corpse's stolen grenade fall down to the ground, to glance of the aimed kick of his boot, and hurdle straight towards the three Cretan soldiers.

BOOM! The explosion shattered their ears and dissoriented them immensely, a splash of shrapnel maiming the nearest unfortunate soul. He had not even the time to recover from his fit of blind deafness, nor his growing pain, as Miguel was upon his, sabre drawn from its scabbard and resheathed in the flesh of his foot, down into the ground, nailing him to his place. Twirling in his hands in a ostentatious display of the remnents of his arrogant youth, the Esparians revolves danced, El Baile de Muerte, spinning adroitly, a flash of metal, stopping on instance, lined up with the Cretan body that would receive its gift, and then releasing with a loud, resonating crack, then afterwards, returning to its dancing twirl, as Miguel himself, moved deftly around the Cretan pinned to the ground, using the miserable victim of war as cover, a shield meant to buy a man with a resolve to die just a few more seconds of life, a few more seconds for the children to escape. The third Cretan fired at the whirling man, only to fill his comrade with lead, his target having ducked and sweapt around to the other side of him. Had he had a chance to regret his misfire, it was short lived, as a revolver's bullet had lodged itself in his knee and his shoulder. His life was spared, but his pain was immense. But a injured soldier would draw attention, attention that would be drawn from the fleeing Esparians.

His human shield had died and he had already fallen backward, assuming an unnatural position with his foot still planted firmly on the ground, held there with a foreign blade. The sabre was drawn from its fleshy sheathe and its wielder dived and reached down to the fallen man, who had involuntarily, unwillingly saved his life, and his fingers slipped through the round pins of the explosives attached snugly to his belt and yanked them free of their place, before dashing wildly to the ally ahead, between two worn and damaged, tall brick buildings. The explosion hurt his ears, as he sprinted out of its fiery reach and into the shadows of the alleyway, it sent snow, dirt, and limbs alike, high into the air. Just another distraction, more time bought for Francesca's chance at a longer life......

The grizzled Esparian dived into an open doorway, modestly protected by a broken door, torn of its hinges, and he leapt up the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him, into the old apartment, abandoned since the flames of war had drawn so close. Up several flights of wooden stairs and into a room within the third floor, he scrambled through a bleak kitchen, a pot of soup still on the stove, and through the living room, the television black and without life, and toys were scattered across the floor, deserted amidst the terror that endangered their master's life. Here Miguel found himself, now cornered, nowhere to run, few places to hide. But he would do neither, he would make his final stand here, he would hold out as long as it took. Unstrapping the M14 single bolt rifle from his back, and old relic, twice as aged as he, he glance out the window. As he had hoped, it overlooked the remaining Cretan forces, the living, the dead, the injured. They had not spotted him in the window, they would only know he was within this building, or nearby. Should they follow him, he would fight then here, to his dying breath. Should they pursue Tristao, Vito and Fran, he would fire upon them from this window, and he would force them to seek to take his life. "Francesca, Vito, Tristao, May I at least assure you that you still have your lives and futures ahead of you. Vasco.....Please, please let these children live in a bright future for Esparia. Catalina....I am sorry....I will see you soon, I hope you can forgive a foolish old man."

[Guest]

Despite his attempt to ensure the well-being of the male that was being chased (whom he had consequently bumped into), it seemed that Alex wouldn't be getting a response out of him. Oh, well...with a sigh, the brunette shoved a hand into his pocket. Then, suddenly, a foot emerged from behind him, between his legs. He had no time to react to the blow. After a few seconds of standing with the most twisted expression on his face that he could muster, the lieutenant pressed his hands to his valuables and his knees together. The pain almost made him faint, and he fell into the snow and was writhing in pain. Taking a couple deep breaths, he looked toward the culprit, who was on the ground, laughing horrifically. He recognized that one...Oh, yes, he most definitely did...

"YOU?!" He exclaimed, making an incredible effort to stand up. He paused after he managed to kneel, and then stood up completely. Though his face was still distorted, he managed to speak to his 'attacker'. He was the Prince of Denmark, who had been marked for death, but still fought to live for his cause. "What are you doing? This isn't the time OR the place for that kind of nonsense!" He glared at her, his eyes venomous snakes that bore into the souls of their victims. Something had changed in him, and it was apparent in his behavior and his manner of speaking. There was change in the air... something inside of him was bubbling, boiling over and out of control, like milk left on the stove unattended. His eyes slowly grew more vicious than before, gripping at the very essence of fear and despair. The change...the change he had anticipated was happening, but not the way he had imagined...

A loud sound came from the Kremlin, causing Alex to whip his head around to see what was happening. The Kremlin...is was falling in on itself, crashing to the ground! There were people running out of the building, some tripping on the corpses littered on the surrounding ground. It was horrifying, but at the same time it was beautiful in a sick, sadistic way. Devastatingly breathtaking, invigorating. The screams only added to its artistic flair, the way the debris split from the main walls and separated only giving the militant chills. He smiled maniacally and brought both hands to his forehead, running his fingers through his hair.

"Ahahah.....ahah...AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" This was crazy, no, beyond crazy, and he loved it. His inner demons had broken their chains and fled their icy prison cells, now able to fly freely and leave destruction and devastation wherever they tread. He was no longer Alex, he was a nameless being, a force that existed for the sole purpose of watching others suffer. The voices in his head, previously silenced by the power of pure will, no longer stood for their oppressive confinement. It would take more than fainting to get the lieutenant back in control of his own body. He was always unstable, and the terrors of war had first changed him for the better, but the roller coaster just dipped into a downward spiral and crashed into the paved ground below. A Drachman woman was running, tears streaming down her face. She tripped over the leg of a deceased soldier, and dropped the baby that she was carrying. It fell 4 feet away from her in the snow, crying loudly.

"Помоги мне, помоги мне пожалуйста!" the woman cried, stretching her hand out to reach for Alex's coat. With a sadistic chuckle, he grabbed her hand. At first, her face lit up with a smile, but when the lieutenant's face grew dark, there was horror in the woman's eyes. His glove glowed, and that moment marked the second civilian casualty caused by the Head of Military Operations of Briggs himself. He laughed again, and turned to the freezing baby. It was skimpily wrapped in a cloth, and would have likely gotten frostbite in no time at all if it hadn't been for its mother. Frostbite was no longer the main issue, though, as Alex kicked the fragile human child into a pile of dead soldiers. The force of the kick was too much for the young child's soft skull, and the bone had splintered, pieces piercing the brain. It died in a pile of dead soldiers.

"It's beautiful," he said, turning his attention back toward the Kremlin and the dark sky, "So beautiful, beautiful, BEAUTIFUL!" Then he looked back at Inimeg for a moment before grabbing a rifle from the snow and running toward the collapsed Kremlin. "I want it...I want it, I want it, I WANT IT!" He passed some militants as he approached the building, ones that had clearly escaped its devastating clutches. Touching the stone wasn't enough for him, oh no, he began to dig through the rubble as some of the stone still plummeted into the snow, narrowly passing him. A small piece cut into the sleeve of his uniform. He needed to see more bodies, so many more bodies he had to see, touch....He wanted it all for himself, it was ART! ART ALL AROUND! Oh, the beauty of it all! His hands bled from the rough, reckless handling of the stone, but all Alex could do was LAUGH. He laughed and laughed hysterically as he forced his way through the debris.

[Tsuritsa Cooper]

Ini laid there cackling for a good bit before Alex figured out who she was, to his chagrin. Oh, Ini was enjoying this. "Ahaha~ How yah doing man-lady-thing! And of COURSE it is the time AND the place for nonsense! It isn't nonsense either, I just felt like you needed to be kicked! That was serious, haHAA~ Anyways, I just happened to chance upon you here, avoiding the fights and crap. Fun fun fun, huh?" And Ini made it a WHOLE FEW STATEMENTS with him without brutally injuring him! This was a personal success! But as she felt her triumph swell up, giving her head an ego boost, he watched as the Kremlin fell, pretty perplexed actually. "... I hope General Aires is alright..." But then she saw something else crumble; Alex's sanity.

It started with a maniacal cackle. Ini stared at him, wondering what exactly he was smoking at that point in time. He seemed... Different. REALLY different. Then, from what she could 'see', a woman, Drachman from her interjectory screaming, fall, as some small thing fell from her arms. From its shape, it was a baby, and its red thermal glow seemed kind of weak. Poor thing. Anyways, it appeared that Alex went to help the woman up, when she apparantly died at his touch. That was odd. Then Ini began putting pieces together when he kicked the baby, killing it. That sort of kind of made Ini very mad at him. WHO RANDOMLY KICKS BABIES TO DEATH!? Then he ran off cackling some weird crap about beauty and crap? Ini followed him as best as she could, barely able to dodge the falling rubble as heat from the explosion blurred her vision a bit. She came closer to Alex and, in her best attempt to calm him down, thwacked him on the head with her cane. Hard. then she walked up to him, ignoring the fact that she was as easy to dispose of as the woman, and slapped Alex repeatedly several times, her face calm and expressionless. "Snap. Out. Of. It. Alex. You. Do. Not. Kill. Random. People. Without. A. Reason. Understand? Good." Each word was a slap, and as Ini finished, she simply walked away, headed out of Drachma, hoping to slip out unnoticed...

[EXIT THREAD- Very terrible exit post, but I was low on time. >.<]

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