STREETS OF MOSCOW; Rebecca, Joker, Ivanka

[Guest]

They were amused by this woman, even as she tried to shoot them in the face. HA! That was amusing, and it wasn’t something they felt too often. Perhaps there would be some use for these “people” after all.”

”It is useless to run!” she bellows out, skidding around a corner – or, more accurately, through the corner. Then, suddenly, an explosion rocked the suit. Immediately, a diagnostic check came up, reporting no significant damage. Unless you count scratching the paint job.

”Come back here so I can crush you!” she shouts, finding herself hot on Rebecca’s trail again.

"Listen mate, I realize we go' differentiatin' ideas, but 'is is jus' ridiculous!"

”The suffering of the great people of this glorious state is far from ridiculous!” she quips back, reaching out to crush the tiny woman’s head, and…

”Fiddlesticks!” she curses, as the woman just barely evades her again. Crashing into a building, she changes direction as fast as she can manage, bursting into the open street again. Pushing the machine to its running limits, she tries catching up again, but it appeared she was too late. A large… tank-car-thingy? A large vehicle flew out of nowhere, picked up her quarry, and drove off. Range: too far.

Slowing to a halt, they watch as the vehicle drives off. Maybe the engineers would rectify this problem in the future, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that. They had a job to do, people to protect, an ideology to uphold. Their very way of life was under threat now…

”Target lost, brother,” she radios out, beginning to walk through the streets, keeping the peace… for now.

[Guest]

”V...Viktor?”

”Da,” he says simply.

”I'm fine...”

Viktor merely nods, his eyes trained on the girl just a few meters away. Not that he wasn’t relieved to hear his friend was fine. Relatively speaking, he supposed. She hadn’t just crashed through a brick wall…

He watched curiously as Cora slowly approached the little girl. He stayed back, snarling, just looking intimidating. As a soldier, that’s what he was second-best at, after all. He tilted his head slightly at what Cora said, but stood his ground. She was a soldier, all of them were, but this one also happened to be a little girl. It’s not like they can turn a little girl into a berserking barbarian, right?

Watching as the girl scuttles off, he lumbers over to Cora slowly, carefully. ”I wouldn’t have done the same,” he says simply, ”but you didn’t do the wrong thing.” Nuzzling her softly, he adds, ”A woman once told me that my job is to speed up death, whereas hers was to slow it down. Remember that, Doctor. The blood of even the guilty is a heavy burden. Let me carry that for you.”

Sighing heavily, he looks down at Darmon. "Now, save him. I'll protect you."

((OOC: Sorry for the short post. Trying to be wise is... not exactly my thing.))

[Guest]

Silence. There was this silence between the two men, Daemon and this Amestrian man who stood a fair distance away. He was growing restless...what was going on? What was happening in the darkness that clouded the world around him? His perception was justly limited to hearing, smell, and touch, but there were no sounds...nothing but the monotonous sounds of gunshots and the smells of a battlefield -- blood, sweat, and the fumes of vehicles, that metallic scent...what could he do? There was nothing for him to do but wait...wait until the opportunity arose for him to react. His darkness betrayed him...

Then a strange sound. It was something...something that posed a threat to the chimera, and Daemon could feel it in every inch of his being. This wasn't going to become a proper conversation...quite the opposite. The wires fell around him and the RIOTE chimera growled, trying to make sense of it all...

"Cage. That's where you belong on this battlefield. You don't deserve to be made to fight. You're on the wrong side!"

Cage? He could feel the feral instincts rising, but kept them at bay; now was not the time for this. Smells....he could smell alcohol being spread around the wire confines, accompanied by the footsteps of the man that he was previously aiming to attack if necessary. His mind was racing. He had been put in a cage before, to see how much willpower he had. They had starved him...they only gave him enough water to keep him hydrated, and left him in the cage to starve, to test how long he could last without food. That experience left him on the verge of death by starvation, but he was here, proof that he had indeed prevailed. Now it was different; There were no scientists starving him, depriving him of his needs....this was different.

"I'm Spade Aeries, the man who only wastes beer for a good reason. Live another day."

A gunshot, and the sound of flames spread around him. It was....it was hot, it made Daemon restless. What was happening? He was being left in a cage, but not to die...to live? No...this couldn't be...That man, Spade Aeries, was he not the enemy?

"...Why?"

"Yeah, that's right... A name doesn't make a person... And I think I know who you are... You're the best, coolest person I know. You're like my best friend, y'know?"

"Nyx...Why?"

"You don't deserve to be made to fight... Live another day."

"Aeries...Why?" He didn't understand. This wasn't what he was made for. This wasn't the purpose that he was designed for. Was he really that clueless? "What do I do, Nyx? What...what do I do?" What was it that she had told him again? That's right....

"You're going to SUCK IT UP and STOP LYING TO YOURSELF! Got it!?"

BOOM!!

An explosion, and suddenly the sound of the walls of the Kremlin coming down. Shit. He couldn't die here. The chimera dashed toward the nearest possible exit, saved from the flames by a jet flying overhead. He followed a familiar scent - it was Nyx's smell, but there was a hint of blood permeating her otherwise light, innocent smell. Daemon passed a group of Amestrian soldiers, only stopping for a short while to turn in their direction before speeding off again. One of them...one of them was bound to be the one who had caged him only a short time before. He wouldn't forget that event...the fact that he had been spared rather than attacked for a right to the death.

"Spade Aeries...I will remember you," he muttered, not caring whether it was heard or not. Then he passed by the two that had originally crashed into the Kremlin in the APC...They weren't important anymore. "My liege," he said into the mouthpiece of his radio, regardless of whether it would be received, "My liege, this Chaos...what shall we do now?" Nyx was already gone, but...the smell of the blood was anything but reassuring. Something told him that he had to protect her, an instinctual attachment to the girl who had cracked the icy box that contained his heart. His legs pumped, his will unwavering. He would get to her, whether he had to plow through more enemies or not.

"...I got it, Nyxie, I got it..." He knew now that he had to do as she said and stop lying to himself, stop putting everything away into an icy safe, away from the world. Daemon allowed for his instincts to take over...

"I NEED TO FIND NYX!"

[Shula Brighton]

The trashcan lid was every bit as effective as Shula anticipated it would be, masterfully causing lightning to come down and carry is rage from the heavens above and nearly blind them all while frying that fucker and... Oh no wait, that was Spade's gun, being struck by lightning and exploding as it fired. Shula instinctively raised her hands and averted her eyes from the flash of light, her ears ringing from the small explosion. The hell... was THAT? As the colours shifted back to a normal range and her eyes adjusted, she found herself unable to close them at all, staring hopelessly at the bodies that surrounded the area. She knew so many of these men, talked to them, knew how to make them laugh... Those whose faces were still in tact horrified Shula as much or more than the soldiers whose bodies littered the area in pieces, the snow dark and slushy, saturated with the heaviness of blood, tissue and organs. What kind of monster was he? Was he even human? Her head was reeling as she surveyed the tragedy around them, kneeling down to check the pulse of a soldier at her feet. She didn't really see Spade walk nearer to the man he'd fired at, or feel her heart speed up or how wet her face was becoming.

That moment of light had illuminated far too much and burned itself into Shula's mind. The stark white against the tones and gradients of bright red to a red so deep it verged on black. Their faces. How so many looked as though they were screaming. How some who were still mostly together looked like at any moment they would blink, and close their mouths and get up. Shula didn't notice the blood smearing on the black leather of her gloves and making them slick as she pressed her fingers to a man's throat, checking for any signs of life, her brain ignoring the gaping hole in his side. ”Thomas... Thomas, get up!” Her voice was quiet and shaky, her whole body beginning to shake as she moved to another soldier's remains, ignoring the comments from the soldiers with her that they were past saving. These people were from Central. She knew them, worked with them, and how many times had she gone to their departments to deliver things or take them personally, even when that wasn't her job anymore? How many of them had all chipped in for pizza in the office ro join Spade in the glory of avoiding work? Even when one grabbed at her arm lightly to try and urge her to stop, Shula only wrenched free and moved down again and again, desperately clinging to the hope that one of them had survived. That one of the faces would blink. That even just one of them would respond to her begging and get up and live.

Shula was lost somewhere between feeling completely numb, heartbroken and about to be violently ill at any moment. Sounds seemed fuzzy and distant and things were almost in slow motion as the squad she brought with her dispersed, firing rapidly at Drachman soldiers in any direction they came from. She felt oddly removed from the situation; it felt far too surreal to really be happening. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BOOM! The explosion was sudden, ear-shattering, and made the earth shake. The world moved in all directions but the right one as Shula was suddenly grabbed and yanked downward into the snow. Even as the explosion quieted, the rumbling didn't stop as the air around them suddenly filled with the smells of smoke, fire, and stone dust that threatened to choke the life from everything in the area. The fire was intense and illuminated the world in horrifying shades of red, but none of that was registering to Shula, her eyes wide and fixated on the large chunks of wall as the Kremlin rained down around them. The soldiers scattered, but something in Shula's mind made her freeze, her body unwilling to move. The building was falling. There was no time to think, and nowhere to run. Before she could really comprehend things and force her body to move on its own, she was suddenly yanked again hard by her collar, skidding under the abandoned jeep with Acra and Spade.

Her ears were still ringing, and her hands shot up to cover them and curl into herself a little as blocks of steel and brick pelted down against their shield. The jeep groaned in protest and overpowered the terrified whimper that passed through the Ishvallan's lips. Her eyes shut tightly, but even with her hands over her ears she couldn't escape the screaming. The screaming of civilian's who hadn't evacuated running for their lives. The screams of Drachman soldiers running, fighting and mourning the loss of something so important to their history and culture. The screams of the soldiers she and Spade commanded as they scrambled and ran for cover, some calling for them to move out from the jeep and run to them to safety, others trying to get as far away from the destruction as possible. It was like she was stuck in some horrible snow globe that constantly shook up nothing but debris, bullets, snow and screams. This was the second time in a little over a month that a building tried to come down and hug her. Was she just destined to die being crushed to death and just kept getting lucky enough to narrowly miss it so far? Another rumbling came down and the jeep's frame shifted, bearing down under the immense weight and pressing against their bodies, instinct screaming from the back of her mind that if they didn't all get out from under there, they'd die right then and there. ”Get out!” Spade's voice barked loudly, firm yet sounding just as desperate and frightened as they all felt as he crawled out from under the vehicle. Shula took the offered hands as she was pulled free, and looked around her as Acra was as well.

Another part of the skyscraper was falling down. Things were burning. Nothing was safe, even as other soldiers called to them to get out of the way . Spade turned slightly and looked at Shula, the silent, desperate look seeping out from behind his aviators, but was met with something else in Shula's. It was neither rage nor determination bursting with the normal fiery will to fight and live that generally defined her being, nor was it the panicking fear that she'd been struggling with since she descended from the top of the hill to find him. It was dull and distant; an emptiness promising numb relief from all that she was feeling right now, even though her eyes were still shining from their recent wetness and grief. All her life she'd defended herself from fear with sarcasm, being able to poke fun at herself, but this was different. Even more different than it had been when she fought in South and got separated from everyone. She'd seen the people around her fall and die, yes, but it had been quick. And then she'd gone off on her own and gotten lost, and that had been the last any of them had seen of her until they met with her again in the hospital or after that even, when they had all started heading to South to occupy. This was... horrible. Such a waste of life, everywhere. Shula looked on as Spade shot something upward at a building across the street and quickly tossed Acra and herself a line. A... grappling gun? Shula wrapped her feet around the line and held tightly, feeling more like a ragdoll as she was suddenly pulled upward into the air to the building and away from the destruction. She couldn't help but look down, though. There were still people down there. Their friends, coworkers, their family was still down there.

She clung to the line, though, even though her sticky gloves slid along the slick wire and made it harder to hold onto, vaguely unsure if it was from the blood on her own gloves, unaware of the blood Spade was dripping down onto the line from above them. Her own body slipped downward slightly, causing Shula to try and wrangle her brain enough to hold tighter and keep from letting go of the line to join her peers below. It wasn't fair...! Her own words stabbed at her. ”We ALL get to the bottom of the hill!” They had all made it to the bottom together... How could she have just grabbed this and gone upward to what was probably relative safety and left everyone to run for their lives? What... kind of commander did that make her? Shula's heart sank, cheeks wet and body shaking more as her mind struggled against the numbness and denial that strained to take over to save her mind. Something bumped into her and held her close for a moment, and awareness returned to deep red eyes for a moment. Acra. ”Be ready to grab the idiot.” Wait, which idi-- She looked up, and Spade looked ready to fall down to them at any second. Acra moved his arm and pointed his Mega Man arm cannon at the ground, Shula's dull eyes moving from his arm back up to their boss. ”Three.... Two..Get ready to catch him! ONE!”

A blast of hot air burst forth and propelled them upward, like being caught in a hot wind tunnel with one hell of an updraft. She and Acra bounced upwards from the force as Spade came closer to them. Her brain zeroed in on Spade. The man who was something more than a boss or a best friend that evaded all definition. It could be felt but not explained. The man who slept with every woman with a pulse but her, yet loved her enough to ask her to find the will to live when she was surrendering. Through the depths of how foggy she felt, that sole emotion connected with Spade pierced through her mind and forced her body to act on its own, powered by that single feeling. Her left arm reached out and grappled onto Spade, crying out from the sudden weight that produced a painful pop in her shoulder and threatened to pull the limb from its socket but refused to let go, holding to him as they shot up and over the ledge of the building.

The world stopped moving. They were on something solid and covered in snow, and flat. Shula made sure to kick away from the edge just in case anything tried to yank them back down, and laid on her back to catch her breath as her right hand gripped her socket and curled into her body. That... did not feel good. In the slightest. But pain meant they were all alive at least, even as the sounds of what was happening around and below them still filled her ears. Slowly she sat up, still gripping her arm as she glanced wordlessly at Acra, and then at Spade, her gaze heavy and torn with feelings before she looked away from them both, back to over the edge of the building and looked fruitlessly down into the darkness to try and see how many of theirs had made it away safely.

[Nyx]

Nyx, having enjoyed her time on the perch mending her wounds, looked around at her surroundings. She saw that the guy with the nut-killer was going psycho, which amused her at least a little. Looking away from him, she saw Tori fighting some guy near an APC, and some action going down in the distance, with some explosions. Then she set her eyes on a sight that nearly froze her heart. Daemon! And he was safe, oh yes, he was safe! With delight spreading from her ear to her other ear, she checked her wing. It was a bit torn in the middle, though she'd bandaged it, and it seemed as if it would hold, so she could paraglide on it. With a delighted giggle, she leapt once more from her perch, closing her wings towards each other to catch the wind as she dropped into the sky, and slowly began to descend like a paper airplane, helpless to the winds, but lucky enough to fall on a straight path. With all of the effort she could muster, she landed right at Daemon's side. "Dae Dae! You're safe! I was so worried, where were you back there? I escaped the Kremlin but I couldn't see you from the treetops!"

[Guest]

"It is an honor to meet you, Ace Aeries. I am Reila Tsukino of Fort Briggs--I'm sure Spade has told you. ...I'm aware you speak Amestrian? Have you been given a position?" Eeep! The boy's hands suddenly went over his mouth. Right. Amestrian soldiers. Not all of them spoke Xingese like Sakuya now, did they? The man laughed softly and reached up behind his head, scratching it softly and tilting his head to the side, "Deepest apologies. When you tend to only speak one language most of the time, speaking a language that few around you do as well can prove to be... annoying, at the best of times. Again, deepest apologies, my mind has switched to Amestrian now." The light accent that came off of his voice made it clear that he was not a natural speaker of Amestrian; however the man did seem to be learned enough in it to be classed as a natural. He watched Reila greet Jeu-Hee, and then, "Now that so many people are gathered, listen up! The channel for our comm is 4z81 and that is all of Fort Briggs currently in Moscow, Dai, and myself." Hrm. So, 4z81? They should be able to lock into that frequency. But, as a matter of fact, where was Mr. Ito? The young Emperor blinked and looked around for a second, "Dietrich will be locating the area in which Aurel, Hild, and Vanity are hiding. I will be going to settle agreements with the rebel Drachman forces. I ask that Ace and Shula go to Moscow to assist Central troops." He nodded curtly, and reached up to his face, gripping the edges of his glasses, and flicking them off of his face, looking directly at Reila as his eyes changed color to a rainbow shimmer, due to the influence of his Alkahestry. He had activated the Mystic Eyes of DarkVision. The headache started to slowly beat away at him, although it wasn't much for now. And as the eyes activated, his rods and cones changed around, suddenly bathing his retinas in further light from around him, and making the definitions of the place around him better to visualize. Okay. He was ready, at least for now. "Anymore time wasted and we could completely lose our chance of victory; this is a country that we are fighting...with out small numbers; only more and more will trickle out from the mountains. I suggest setting out." He nodded again, and looked over at the woman that he had guessed was Shula Brighton, mostly because he'd seen her files before hand. She was certainly much... shorter... than he would've guessed. Oh, well. That, and he'd met her in that Strip Club incident. "Got it! Acra, let's head out!" The boy beckoned for Peizhi to follow, and then walked quickly after Shula himself, following her to the ships. He only needed himself and Peizhi here; as she was his vassal. Xiao and Jeu-Hee would press the assault on the outer rims of Moscow.

Looking out the window of the ship, the headache was slowly beginning to grow as he saw more and more spreading lights growing before him. These eyes, they were powerful tools, and yet powerful curses. The boy could only laugh softly as he watched out the window, and the ship slowly lowered. "Let's move it!! Flank the city and close in, don't let anything else in or out! 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!" Shula had taken command within seconds, and Ace could only smirk at that. It was good to see someone able to take command so readily, and as such, meant that he could simply follow along and make sure that things were going to plan. Approaching the squad that were hanging around Shula and Acra, he discerned that they were the ones that were going in for Sakuya. He made a quick motion with his hand to make Peizhi get closer, and then following Shula up the steep street. "Spade's on the next block at the bottom of this hill!" He nodded briefly and brought out Nanatsuya now; smirking. He'd never held his Mystic Eyes this long before, it was kind of unnerving. They hit the top of the hill, and then... "We ALL get to the bottom of the hill and help Spade no matter what! Acra, run alongside me and help clear the path from the Drachman soldiers - Set your arm phasers from stun to roast!" He nodded, although he hadn't been spoken to. Watching the ahead hill, Shula.,.. did Shula just...? The man could only blink and suddenly start laughing. Okay, that was rich. But enough of that; he wouldn't be able to run down that hill safely, either. But he couldn't just let Shula overtake him in this, he was the goddamn Emperor of XING... and he was just going to run behind. Screw being fancy, he needed to keep himself safe. So he motioned for Peizhi to follow, and started slowly going down the hill behind Shula and Acra, as well as their small troop. They eventually caught up, and stood back from them slightly, Ace still a little bothered by the light within the Kremlin. Gah, that didn't help his DarkVision, not at all...

Heh. It hurts.

The boy suddenly grit his teeth and held his head for a second; the falling debris causing him to shudder slightly. This wasn't good... The explosions. Falling. Falling. His heart started to beat faster in his chest, the young Emperor stepping backwards and shouting out, trying to calm himself. he wasn't going to die. He wouldn't die here. It was okay. It was okay. Everything was fine. Fine, fine. No death. Ace wouldn't die. The Kremlin was only falling before him. It was okay. "Get out!" It was too late. He was already outside, and staring at the falling building, completely dumbstruck by the entire thing. Wait, that was starting to fall towards him... No... nonononono... Spade, Shula and Acra had gotten out of the way, and... SHIT NONONONONO! Turning around in a hurry, Ace rushed straight for the closest person, Peizhi. He had to keep her safe... Diving forwards, he felt his body collide with hers, just as the debris started to fall around them, landing at their sides; some landing on his back and causing Saeji to scream out in pain. GOD, THAT HURT... But... they were safe. He had no broken bones, and Peizhi was below him, alright as well. He gave a soft smile, "Good to see you safe, beautiful." Pushing up, the debris fell off of his back; but as the sounds of the stones hitting the ground reached his ears, his own heart made a loud beat at the same time.

BA-THUMP

Heheheheh... Submit.

On that word, Saeji shouted out once more, the pain now unbearable. It was... rrrgh... Looking at Peizhi, his eyes said it all. Get away. He had to... turning away from her, he started to stumble off, holding his head as the pain started to get worse. His heart was beating faster in his chest; and his eyes were focusing and de-focusing on the ground as he walked forwards, one step at a time. The pain was... raaarhg... No, it was fading. His headache was fading, and all that was left was the limp. That limp was his only link back to humanity, before Saeji Aeries had gone. That feeling of death knocking at his door... that was something that always brought it out. No, that was wrong. Saeji Aeries ran scared from that. Nanaya Aeries didn't. So when Saeji Aeries felt that his death was near, he ran, leaving Nanaya out to do his own thing. He knew where Sakuya had landed, and was ready to do it all. He would kill Sakuya Aeries...

"Just like I killed Mother and Father..."

Stumbling forwards, Nanaya watched the building with a pair of shimmering eyes. Heh. That was where they were. Peizhi was long gone, he had hoped, but there were going to be three targets there. And that building... it would be easy to get on top of, would it not? He coo'ed softly, and looked up the side of the building, ready to do battle with this man.

This is wrong.

"Come off it, Replica." Hoisting himself up, Nanaya slowly began to scale the side of the building, his injury seemingly ignored, reduced to a dull throb as he did so. His hands were placed on the right parts of the structure, and he finally pulled himself up and over the edge, onto the snowy structure and looking at the trio that were laying there. It would be easy, would it not? "Sakuya~ H-how nice to see you..." He twitched slightly from Saeji's resistance, but otherwise kept his composure, hand flicking out the switchblade in preparation. Anyone who knew Saeji would know this to not be the right man, it was obvious.

[Guest]

The creak of the corroded wooden floor as the weight of something shifted, it was the only warning Nika got before the enemy's guns sounded off their four bullet assault. It was all that saved her from being riddled with holes and failing the mission right off the bat. She dived, leaping forward into a roll to evade the gunfire, diving behind a stack of wooden crates, two meters high, about a meter across and......found herself at eye level with the flesh-tearing metal teeth of a...bear trap? Such a crude trap in a combat zone? Now wasn't the time to be questioning the enemy's, err, tactical reasoning, the main threat here was the woman with the guns. The sound of a heated exchange of gunfire resonated below. Just how many soldiers had been hiding in the area? Had they been too careless? No time to worry, the enemy had to be taken care of first. Jumping to her feet, she flattened herself against her wooden crate cover, but not for long. Her cover was meager, wooden, the enemy would shoot through it to get to her, no doubt. The floor creaked. The enemy wasn't as close as she had been when she ambushed her, she must have been making use of cover too. She had the element of surprise, she has the layout of the room, the traps, if anything she was ready to fire as soon as Nika popped out from her own cover, and she should know exactly where she was, and Nika....could only guess the proximity. Had to buy time, had to stall her, anything to keep her from shooting right now.

"So, you speak Amestrian, do you?" Nika called out, her voice slightly mocking, but not too much so. "And here I was thinking I would have to go and speak Drachman again. I can't say I'm too happy to be here again. No sweet sentiment for my supposed homeland...." Was she distracted? Did it get her thinking, break her concentration? Anything like that would be useful, even if it only worked a little.

Now or never, it was the time to improvise. With a thick black boot, the nearby metal trap was kicked out from behind the boxes, sliding across the wooden floor loudly as all the bumps and nicks in the floor made it clatter. There, if she was hiding behind cover, then she would have come out now, to shoot at the noise that she would think to be Nika moving. Tearing off her trench coat, which happened to have a few holes now in the tail, she tossed that too, out from the opposite side of her cover. She would shoot at that, probably, she would see the coat she wore and shoot at that, leaving herself open to....Nika leapt out from the opposite side from which she threw her coat, both FN Five-sevens drawn now, firing three shots each, alternating, as she ran across the room to a larger set of crates, carefully avoiding the bear traps that were strewn about the semi-cluttered room.

[Alisa Donnikova]

Missed. She didn't hear a sound of pain, a grunt, or even a comforting little thud against the floor of a stumble. Nor the confirmed thud of a body. Just movement of combat boots against the old floorboards. Nothing. God fucking WHORE. Her face twisted into a frown, a tension growing in the air that seeped under her skin, glancing out from her cover as she waited. Patiently. Whatever the fuck that meant. For that matter, what the fuck should she do? Note, never take a goddamn job like this again... Wars were dumb. You were asking to get another asshole to shit out of. Fuck this shit, where was the goddamn vodka?

She was about to move when she heard the womans voice, surprisingly lower than one might expect. "So, you speak Amestrian, do you?" She wanted to growl, but she had to hold it in. Had to keep quiet. At least for the moment. "And here I was thinking I would have to go and speak Drachman again. I can't say I'm too happy to be here again. No sweet sentiment for my supposed homeland...." Fucking languages. Peering out from her cover, she could only make guesses which crates she was behind. Things were going to peak soon. Explosions were rampant outside and that goddamned cackle. SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY. God dammit.

Movement, a snap. Clacking. Calm Alisa... Calm..... Oh fuck this shit. She fired through the crate in the direction of the noise, rolling backwards while ignoring how wood splinters went everywhere. Another movement. Cloak. Dodging off to the opposite side that this most recent movement had gone, she ran and skidded behind some taller crates, clearly larger furniture or whatever inside. Ok... the bitch was-- Bullets rang out, a couple hitting her crates as she ducked down and further inwards. Six shots. But then she came into view. Apparently they both had the same idea for cover. "Fuck Drachma. Fuck you. FUCK. THIS. SHIT." She barked as she ran at Nika, her Cutlasses ringing out with five shots alternating from each. Darting off to the side, she jumped over where she knew she had laid her shit down, almost looking like she was some ballerina with how she was dodging.

A grenade went off below them, the building straining under the sudden stress caused to it, the floorboards whining. No, don't you dare. DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE COLLAPSE. Another explosion downstairs. Growling, she bolted for the door, jumping over smaller crates and her own fucking traps caring not if bullets whizzed by her. Yo fuck this. She wasn't going to die because the building collapsed on top of her. As she bolted out of the door, she saw bodies littering the various floors as the staccato of machine guns cut through the air. There were the two barricades for each side in various rooms, orders still being shouted. Fuck that. That was a death zone. So she turned to the only way left. Up to the goddamn roof. Oh, and a great thing about old buildings in Drachma? Their doors were probably shit. Taking the stairs two to three at a time, Alisa fired a couple of shots behind her just in case Nika was following, and she knew she would be.

The last door. Giving a good kick, it practically exploded open, showing the snowy expanse of the rooftop. How fucking cliche was this? Slowing, she skidded in the snow, wobbling as she regained her balance. Fuck fuck FUCK. She rounded a corner and crouched behind a chimney stack, checking her pistols. She'd need to reload in five more shots each. Smoke was drifting up from the square below, she could only imagine what was happening beneath. Come on bitch... where are you? She thought to herself as she crouched there in the cold, wet snow. Fuck she hated it here. She heard the crunch of snow and she fired two shots from one of her pistols, her hand reaching around before whipping back to her body. Fuck.

[Guest]

”AAAAAH!” the private screamed out as the motorcycle crashed into him. Ripping her eyes away from the dying Esparian woman, and straight down the barrel of a gun. ”Fuck,” she mutters.

"Ay, que pesado. You know, I'd rather not have to shoot down another Esparian, can't we just call for a ceasefire?"

She stares at him silently, slowly clenching her right hand into a fist as the tungsten lance slides out, pondering whether it would truly be a good idea to wound or kill this man, considering the circumstances.

A man cries out - rather loud actually - over his fallen comrade, distracting the man in front of her.

”Grow some cajones, bosh’tet.” With a good alchemic shove, she makes her escape, running back into the street. Noting the private had seemed to make an escape of some sort, she quickly took out her fan, sparks flying about her as she sped up with a soft “boom.”

Soon a couple blocks away, weaving through back allies and sprinting across open streets, she was curious about the loud explosion that rattled the nearby windows, and the severe lack of the sound of a helicopter flying through the air. Very troublesome. At the next intersection, she slid around the corner, running back towards the train station. Running past some Cretan soldiers, she was knocked off balance by one bullet pinging off her right shoulder, and another ripping through her left upper arm. Gritting her teeth and whimpering, she skids to a halt and dives inside of the first building she could, gripping at where the bullet had hit her. Only a graze, it seemed, but FUCK it hurt.

Taking in a deep breath, she calms herself before removing her Drachman jacket. The thing itched like hell anyway. Dropping it unceremoniously next to her, she heard something else. Someone... Upstairs? Finally taking note of the room, she notices tracks of snow leading across the floor. ”Well, shit,” she mutters, picking herself up and carefully ascending the stairs.

Taking out her fan again, she slowly looks into the rooms, finally spotting the Esparian man from earlier. With a rifle. Fuck.

Entering the room, she opened her fan, and immediately begins to manipulate the air in the room. ”How about you lower that gun, and then we start talking this out?” she asks, keeping herself a few yards away. Hopefully that was a short enough distance. Hopefully…

[Guest]

Nothing could kill his smile of amusement to Reila’s reaction to his playful but nevertheless serious topic recommendations. Ah, well, there had to be some form of entertainment in a lull such as this, and he certainly didn’t have the manpower to throw at Drachma like Amestris did.

Ah, speak of the devil. Just as expected, the ancient machines that the Xingese flew around in. Still, now was not time to apply personal political feelings into the matter. At least not obviously, of course.

”I see we've already gathered, and aren't we just on time or what?"

”Technically, we’re all late, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he says, nodding back at the emperor.

Listening intently to Reila, he only breaks eye contact to motion to a communications officer to take note of the frequency.

”Best of luck with the ‘rebels,’ general. I’ll contact you once we have them located.”

Watching as everyone else began to set off, he gazed at his Amestrian escort with amusement and curiosity.

”I do truly believe Amestris’ sin is Pride,” he says casually to Csilla. ”Ask a helpful question, and suddenly they act like you’re working for them. Such a sense of entitlement. Your leader blows up your country, you immediately reassume military control of the government, and you’re giving orders to me of all people?” He shrugs, looking at the ships taking off and flying into the sky. ”Pride has gotten them into this predicament, into a war they might not be able to afford. But, to be fair, it has served them well enough in the past, I presume.”

”Lord Dietrich.” Ah. Hopefully some good news from home.

”I’m reading you, Sullivan. How goes everything?”

”Excellent, m’lord. Parliament has passed your request, and General Izzard forwarded something of interest to you. Your communications officer should be getting it shortly.”

”Very good,” he says, pondering for a moment.

Looking back at Csilla, he asks, ”And what of Creta’s sin? What would you guess?” He pauses, mulling that over for himself. One could guess pride, because I’ll admit to being that, or even greed, depending on your disposition. But a country is so much more than its leader. It’s something embodied by its people, for better or worse. Now, General Aeries killed our previous Prime Minister, and the people were angry and upset. They wanted blood. Revenge.”[/color] He grins. ”I believe it’s wrath, my dear lieutenant. Hell hath no fury like Creta scorned.”

Sighing heavily, he adds, ”Now arm yourself. I’m assume you know how to fire a rifle? I’m confident there’s a spare in one of the APC’s. You help her look, Elastor. Then, sit patiently in my APC. We’ll be heading out soon enough.”

Entering the communications vehicle, he looks at the officer inside. ”Have we received word form General Izzard yet?”

((OOC: BAM.))
((OOC 2: I know what you did, Aki. Clever girl...))

[Guest]

Cold. It was cold, that was the first thing that he'd noticed. It had been a long time since he'd felt the cold. Even in North City, it had been passing by him, but now, now that he was in this country that he didn't know, with people that he didn't know, he finally felt the elements beating down on him. The heat of the helicopter behind him did nothing for this man, who could only kneel there, breathing heavily, listening to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, over and over again. Was that all he could hear now? Just... his heart? That beat, steadily over and over again, it was telling him those words he didn't want to hear. It hurts. No, no it couldn't hurt. It wasn't allowed to hurt. Can't feel my legs... No, he had to. He had to get up, be strong for Spade. He needed to tell that man... Might die. NO. Death wasn't an option! He put a hand onto the cold tarseal, pushing off of the ground with a grunt, attempting to get back up, when he felt a warmth slide in around his body, and a soft voice in his ear; first speaking in Cretan, and then in Amestrian. "Sir, can you move?" That voice, it was like a drop of heat onto his body, and he slowly craned his head up to look closer. She was the woman who he had seen before, the one who had been watching as he had made his descent. She... she was in aqua-colored armor, but the look was distinctly Cretan. G-good, that meant that they were allies. At least, that was what they were told, were they not? "Sorry about this, but come on." An arm... wrapping around his waist... what was going on... no... Blood. He could smell blood, and when he looked down, he could see it, on her right arm. She was... injured. And attempting to carry him.. no. He wouldn't be a burden on anybody. Struggling slightly, he managed to get himself out of her grip and onto the ground, stumbling a little before reaching up and trying to pick her up himself, "C'mon, y'r injured."

Basically hoisting her up onto his shoulders, he managed to get a little way off the ground, and started slowly walking in the direction she was carrying him before; gradually making his way at a pace that belied his injury. No, he wasn't seriously injured, his body was just in shock from the jump, still. Normally, he'd be fine, but the cold did it to him. The cold, foreign country. And yet he wondered, why did he want to leave Amestris? Because he needed to be stronger. He needed to be able to show Spade that he wasn't just there on the sidelines, a waste of space to everyone else. He couldn't just be the big idiot of the group; the knuckle-head. He was a scholar, and they needed to know that... And as he carried Vivian along, progressively getting slower as he approached that door, he felt himself beginning to.. cry. Not tears of sadness, but just tears. It almost felt as if he'd been holding them back for long enough. Gritting his teeth and swallowing, Apos started to push harder, trying to reach the door in a way that was never the best for someone in his state. A small cry of pain left his throat, and yet he continued, persevering to that goal that he had set for himself, because nobody else could. It was his goal, and his goal alone. Surpassing Spade? That was HIS goal, and one that he had to do with his own power. Everything he did, it was within his own strength. If he couldn't do it with what he had, then he would simply get stronger. It was no big deal. Carrying this woman to this place, even if she was less injured than he was, it was a goal that he would accomplish. And finally, his persistence paid off. She kicked the door in, and he finally got them through, setting her down on the ground so she could get up, and moving slowly himself behind cover as well, resting his back against it and wiping his forehead with a groan.

"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?" His eyes made motions this time. Vivian Duchamp. His champion, huh? The woman who had found him, crouched in the snow, almost feeling that death crossing over him. He chuckled softly, and looked over at her with sharp brown eyes, a pair of eyes that hid years of pain. "A-Apos. Major Apos Rajan, of the Amestrian Army. The State Alchemist known as Mimicry, believe it or not." He laughed dryly, resting his head against the cover and looking up. No, that was a lie. He was going to hand in his request for leave today, but something overtook him, and he came here instead. He stole a civilian helicopter, and came here, looking for Spade. But he hadn't made it to Spade, instead falling out of the air, jumping out of the chopper, and landing in front of this black-haired beauty. In fact, as his eyes wandered back to her, he felt himself studying her features carefully. Blue. Focus on that, it keeps out the pain. He didn't know how long he did it for, but simply staring into those deep pools of blue made his mind calm. The pale flesh adorning her face, the raven-black hair falling to it's sides... it all.. calmed him; giving him something to focus on. Apos grit his teeth and grinned slightly at Vivian, before looking down at his legs, feeling the pain starting to throb through them. So, they weren't numb after all...

"Heh..." He was about to comment on how beautiful he felt this woman in front of him was. But that felt wrong, especially in this situation. She was a soldier, and probably strong enough to kick his ass. Add to that the fact that she probably had a damn good looking man to go with her, and she was set, wasn't she? He was just an outsider; he'd always be as such. It was always the same. The same actions, the same result, the same feeling of resentment. But... he didn't Spade. His resentment was only directed towards that man sitting beside Vivian. "Guess I did something right, huh? Didn't think... I was gonna last th'night..." He softened his features and let his guard down, staring at a spot on the wall before him, as the moonlight filtered into the room and washed the back of his head in light; drowning the sharper features of his face in a dark shadow...

[Spade Aeries]

Slowly, he turned away from the edge and to the two of them. Fingers wandering on their own, he brushed Shula's clutched shoulder, eyeing her with a critical gaze. Sometimes, he wished he wasn't so aware--that maybe he could be ignorant for a change and enjoy himself if not just a little. Life was meant to live it, right? So...what were they doing here? Here, where planes zipped overhead--where great buildings of the past fell and fires rose to shroud the heavens in thick, black smoke. His eyes itched, watered, and he no longer wanted to keep them open. Maybe if he stared at the inside of his eyelids long enough, he would go blind. If he went blind, he would become less observant. And then, finally, he would ignorant. He could join the ranks of the nescient fools who only knew how to ask questions and flip the television channels. That is, until their houses came down and they were left with the rubble of normalcy instead of the luxuries brought to them by the pouring blood of the military. Spade already had too much shit happen to him so he opened his eyes and allowed a frown to skim over his lips briefly. It was so brief that he barely caught it himself--his own unhappiness. It was something so common that the man stopped caring about how he felt. He stopped caring so much that he hadn't even realized it until now. Staring at Shula like she held his world instead of her shoulder, Spade realized that his own happiness no longer mattered in the equation. If there even was an equation to begin with. He laughed, casually--ruefully, almost too quietly for Spade Aeries. And then he said, "It seems both our shoulders are out of commission. You, Acra?" He looked as if he had to pry his eyes off of Shula's injury in order to looked elsewhere--like yanking off a week-old band aid. He scanned his friend and solider over with scrutinizing jade, brimming on too-serious. But what could be more serious? Only a handful of their men below lived from cowering under the bleachers. He counted about seven. They were hollering up at them and yammering over the radio. Spade held a thumbs up as his one response, turning back to Shula.

There was something he wanted to say because he sensed the unease--saw the thoughts flowing out of red eyes that were screaming silently at him. His own heart seemed to prick with the thickness forming between them. How could you run away yourself--how could you escape and leave them all to die!? But Spade couldn't tell the difference between her thoughts and his anymore. Maybe they were one in the same. He would always blame himself. The guy who always brought him coffee at 2PM was scattered on the snow below. Scattered. Spade forgot his real name, but remembered the guy from his lime green hair. Everyone called him Booger. Something Spade invented one day on the job when he ordered everyone not to work. It was the day he brought in a keg... He didn't remember that day very well, but sometimes fuzzy smiles and laughter crawled into the forefront of his mind from the rocky shadows before the tide swept them back into the moonless night. He looked into the moon now, getting lost in the white, misty glow caught between beautiful and terrifying. Turning his head with a breath of cold air, he watched his breath. "It's painful, isn't it--seeing so many people die." He ran a blood-caked hand through his wavy hair, gripping the shorter pieces in the back while the longer ones tickled his lips. "Looking back from safety at the piles of bodies you left behind... Hearing them call your name as they drop like flies in order to pay for just one more of you own breaths." How many...had he stood there and watched die? How long was it since he had the same lost look as Shu hidden behind his sunglasses? Spade's hand wandered to touch them on top of his head, but dropped back to his shoulder where fangs of pain dragged down to his wrist. He winced. "That's our job, Shu. Our job is to live and save as many as we can along the way. But we must live because without us--without us what will they do other than run from death? We must lead them into the darkness, come out, and then gather more. One day, we might actually accomplish something. One day... But until then, we cannot die. Once we die... Well, I believe there's something worse than death that comes with giving up." He was smiling--smiling sweetly to himself as if remembering something, but even in his mind he wasn't exactly sure what he was remembering or what he was thinking. It wasn't until he heard his voice, that he felt the realization cling to the fibers left of his sanity. His little brother. That's right...Ace. It was for him, that he left the country where he was born--for him, that he bid farewell to Xing and never looked back. He read as his brother grew up, ripped open letters to see less misspelled words, got paper cuts to try and be a part of his brother's life despite being sent away by the parents that claimed to love him.

"Sakuya~ H-how nice to see you..." he said. Spade jerked his head around, forgetting what he had just been trying to explain to Shu. With wide eyes, he watched his brother climbing up from the wall and joining them on the roof in the feathery snow. He was about to reply, but stopped when his ears picked up the slight clink of a switchblade. There were no enemies up here. His eyes scanned the vicinity while his ears scoured the surrounding air for the sounds of breath that weren't Acra, Shu, Ace, or himself. Nothing. So why? Something was wrong. He stood up, listening to the conversations of his men over the radio. They were gathering with leftover Briggs troops and looking to collect their commanders now that they were locked on top of the roof. They could...jump? Though bungee jumping wasn't really in style anymore. Plus, it would mess up his hair. There was word of Reila Tsukino coming to negotiate with Drachman rebels and of a man named Viktor that they were going to report to in order to get help. Though he heard this, he said nothing to their questions (aside from that one time he shot them the thumbs up). It all sounded so far away to him--as if they were even talking about him and Shula (they forgot about Acra). He barely even registered this because...something was wrong. Something was so terribly wrong that Spade's vision blanched--as if everything was suddenly too white. The show...the moonlight...the just...brightness. That gleam from the knife...the knife that was pointed at him. Spade was weaponless, he noticed with mild shock. But this...was his brother right? His brother that loved him and looked up to him--the one person that tied Spade to this earth and reminded him that he was in fact borne by a human. He smiled and held out his arms almost in question, but in welcome, as if asking for a hug. "Hey, squirt, ...how'd you get up here 'nyway?"

[Elastor Ito]

You know those guards that just stand there and stare off into the distance without moving? Emotionless, selfless, knowing nothing but the art of guarding? That was Ela. He stood erect beside Dietrich, listening silently to the various languages being thrown around like puddy in the hands of madmen. His red hair whipped carelessly around his face, crossing over the line of icy blue sight. He didn't waver a moment even as he listened to the mono-exchange between Csilla and his King pertaining to what sin Creta was and what sin Amestris was. He didn't particularly care, but... if which there were a sin for his country, Ela would say that it was Vanity. He shifted his weight suddenly to his other foot and heard his name, suddenly jolting him back to full-alert. That's right, there was no need to get caught up in other people's conversations. They did not concern him. Not in the least.

"You help her look, Elastor. Then, sit patiently in my APC. We’ll be heading out soon enough.”

He nodded silently and was just barely able to pry himself from Dietrich's side in time for Csilla to enter his sight without it being his intention. Instantly he froze, hoping upon hope that Dietrich didn't notice him falter in the slightest. "Yes, sir," he repeated, covering up his pause. Then, he dragged his eyes across the soft-looking skin of the blond's cheeks and into the brown there. He took a deep breath. "Let's go." Strictly business. She didn't want to engage in conversation and she wanted nothing to do with him. Fine. It's was fine. He was indifferent to most people anyway. Why would she be any different? Because she saved his life and him hers? He didn't need her--didn't want her; he was just obeying orders. So then why...why did her brushing him off feel instead like she handed him a present that exploded in his face? What was...this feeling? It felt like he was being squeezed into a noddle maker, forced to fit a specific shape he wasn't and then tossed in a pot of boiling water. In this cold, he wan't complaining, but if only that was truly the case. Instead, it was only a simile for how he really felt. And it sucked.

He made footprints to their APC where he found a load-full of various weapons. His eyebrows furrowed with the strong emotions he was trying to hold back. He took it out on the door when he slammed it down and motioned inside. "Take what you want; I'll be inside." He turned on his heel, not bothering to hide the dejection in his cold voice. "Close that when you're done." Ela was done. His voice said it all, his actions screamed it, and he left no room for anything else as he got inside the vehicle and slammed that door too, rocking the entire thing with pent up frustration.

[Reila Tsukino]

"Thank you," she finished formally with Dietrich, grabbing a harness thrown to her from the UFO. It drew her up and she untangled herself inside as it flew off in the direction of Moscow. What was... In only a few minutes, the entire horizon was painted in the colors of a sunrise, but... it was too early for that so... fire? She pressed her nose against the frosted glass, squinting golden eyes at the distance. It was flickering ever so slightly and then black swirls of clouds brimmed over the endless white below. Yep, fire. But what was on fire? By this time, her breath was completely fogging the glass...like riding a bus on a rainy day... She pulled away and touched the condensation, letting it soak into her skin and almost make the bones there ache. It reminded her...of the first few days she was in Amestris. Learning the language, understanding nothing but the rain that had been falling outside for the last three days. She remembered her nails were painted for the first time--yellow and she was going back to the hospital by bus. She didn't know why she had chosen that color from the large selection at the salon, but... she guessed maybe it was because she had wanted to see the sun. How old had she been then? Too young to realize that the sun was just another star, as many as there were humans, if not more stars. So insignificant the sun was... but so special because without it, they were all dead. She smiled to herself, almost forgetting her mission. Dai was already... out there. Why was it taking so much time? Why did she feel this... foreboding feeling? She wasn't rushing into this blindly--she wasn't planning on the spot; Reila was thinking--thinking maybe too deeply about RIOTE and what would happen if they lost here today. Why...why? She wanted to know, but nothing came, but the signal that they were hovering over the meeting place. She let out a breath and watched it erase her fingerprints on the window.

Back into the night, she trudged through the snow and onto the sidewalk where it was cleared. Red hair trailed behind her, hanging low despite it being in a ponytail. Sharp eyes took in everything and nothing, her hand permanently glued to her tachi. If anything so much as moved, she'd cut it down before it moved, dammit! It was 1:23 AM. She had two minutes. Two minutes before they lost trust in her. Reila broke into a sprint, the cleats in her boots digging hard into the unusual snow piled on the sides. She reached the door in a puff of breath and rapped once on it, but it pushed open to darkness and a foul smell that sent her heart pattering in a million directions. They were all dead. Without thinking, she entered into that darkness, fumbling around for a light switch. She flicked it and...nothing. The power was out? No it was cut. Shit. She cursed under her breath and reached into her pocket for her lighter. The flint sparked and the room was suddenly filled with a faint glow, illuminating... "Eep!" Back against scummy wall, room full of burly, sweaty Drachman's glaring at her and pointing shotguns. She held up her hands and shook sweat off her forehead. Men. "Heh heh hi there! I'm Reila Tsukino...from Fort Briggs. I got in contact with you about joining...forces." Why was she still so nervous? Maybe it was because she was alone? Yeah, that could be it. Something about being alone... Dai, where was Dai now? She hadn't given the idiot any orders. If she left him alone, next thing she knew he'd be wearing a RIOTE uniform--the idiot. She sighed and lowered her head, pieces of stay hair falling into her face. It was laughable. How much she didn't want to die alone. Who knew...maybe they were trained to dodge tornadoes...maybe they could get a shot past her magnetism. Then she would die...alone in this pigsty and no one would ever know. Was that selfish? Prideful maybe? Or... She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed loudly, raising blazing golden eyes like a cornered animal. "How dare you stand there like mindless fools. Bring out your leader!"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't insult my men. It's a pleasure, Miss Reila Tsukino. I am Boris Smirnov." He held out a hand for her to shake, watching the strange emotions that seemed to take root in this young woman's eyes. He couldn't understand why she wasn't looking down on them from a tank or why not an army of hundreds of men were behind her. She was alone, utterly defenseless, presenting herself before a bunch of rebels who weren't exactly trustworthy. Why? He chuckled to himself and shook her hand as a man should. "I believe we have a deal. I just need the orders, m'am." His men behind him collectively gasped, each having their own mini heart attacks at the tone of voice he was using. Utmost polite he was being, and no, he didn't give a rat's ass about this Amestrian woman really; it was mainly to see his men thrown off balance at his behavior. It was oh so...entertaining. Grinning a set of golden teeth, he took a swig of vodka like it was in fact water. Some of it dribbled down his chin, beard, and soaked into his off-white cotton shirt. "Aheyheyheyhey!" He howled in laughter and patted a wobbly wooden chair. "Sit here let us talk."

M'am!? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-- Reila took his rusty hand, ignoring the black between his fingernails or the fact that his hand was greasy and reeked like--like something she had never smelt before, AND the fact that--that...never mind. It made her sick--made her stomach reel with whatever, but being who she was, she pushed it down and sat, crossing her legs and giving him an equally cross look. "I need you to assist our men with taking the capital. I see that Moscow is burning. The Kremlin has fallen to pieces. Now is the time to strike. I suggest you stop flapping your tongue and get on with freeing your country from RIOTE."

"..."

Reila had that effect on people. They were completely silent as they sat face to face, men hovering around their filth-ridden table, watching them with their guns slung over their shoulders like backpacks. It made Reila wish she hadn't come at all, but she also stopped herself there. Impressions were dangerous--weren't always right. She knew this and she knew this very well from her time as the Head of Fort Briggs. She wouldn't let anything cloud her judgement. Just then...

"'ey bossssss," a man slurred, stumbling up a set of stairs that Reila had been wondering about. "T' breakers 'en't workn' neither. Power's out. Found candles 'ho." Suddenly the man lit a few of the waxy things and the room was fully lit, well, as fully lit as a couple of candles could do. Reila blinked, letting the flame go out on her lighter and her eyes readjust.

"Enough about that, Boris barked, throwing himself to his feet, breaking the chair with the single movement, and cracking his knuckles. "GET OFF YOUR ASSES MEN; WE'RE MOVIN' OUT!" He noticed the red-haired girl's mouth open to answer, but she closed it when the room was filled with the customary cheers of his roguish, feral men. Drinks were downed and spilled all over the place as they fought to fit through the small doorway outside into the night Reila blew in from. "Hah," he laughed, running a hand through wiry brown hair dashed with gray. "This it my country. I can only be grateful for the help. Now tell me, what will you have us do exactly?"

Reila smiled, she felt the feeling fill her with confidence and then rose to her feet as well. "RIOTE has men stationed all over Moscow. Root them out and take 'em out. This should convince others to bleed down the mountains to offer assistance as well. We can't be alone here. I'm counting on you to collect others to fight for the cause as well. This is a hard battle, but... we can do this." She raised a fist and winked. "I'll see you out there Boris. You already have my radio coordinates. Good luck!"

"Puh, you should be wishing luck on the other side, deary."

Reila boarded the UFO again, planning out her next actions. They had gone much faster than she had initially thought... It was easy...too easy. She looked both ways and popped her head out of the skylight. Ah, fresh night air... Something was off. She felt it in her stomach. She felt the desire to land and land now, but they were in the middle of nowhere. She really needed to reach the remains of the Kremlin first and try and find Dai and-- W-what was that?!

[Guest]

"Do not worry. I shall return you to your commanders." Takumi snapped out of it and realized that he was on someone. ...On someone!? Throwing himself backward, he slipped easily from her grip and-- Her?! He blinked and took a stance, alkahestry and alchemy together brimming at his fingertips. A demonic look entered his eyes and he was no longer Takumi. Ten shook black hair from his red eyes and took a few steps towards her, now the predator. But she was no enemy. He would have been dead. She didn't kill him despite bearing the Drachman military uniform. This alone was nerve-wracking. He made a struggled expression and decided to be on the safe side. Not because he wanted to live or anything, but because he wasn't done playing with the Drachman technological equipment. A airy glow festered from his around his bellybutton under his shirt. He shut his eyes and went about painting a pretty little picture of two alchemic circles on her skin. It wouldn't hurt, but it certainly would stain, seeing as he was changing the color content in the pigment of her skin. He didn't really care where he put them...as long as they were there and usable. Once he was finished his masterpiece that took all of a few seconds, he opened his eyes and smirked, motioning to them. "Don't move. You may not know what those circles can do, so I'll tell you just this once. Take one more step and I'll detonate them. You do know what detonate means?" Ten laughed sardonically, a cruel light shining through his eyes. "I bet you're wondering where they came from. That I won't tell you, but I will spare you. Stay right there, and come see me in the future if you want those removed..." Ten backed up slowly, and turned around. As he did so, black hair turned white, red eyes turned a cedar brown, and the flecks of silver that remained in his irises glinted in the moonlight until he was gone from sight.

Up more stairs, around the corner. Thank someone that the control tower was nearby. He hated all this work... and stairs. It was so damn bothersome, but it would all be worthwhile once he reached... Ah! His eyes lit up and he threw open the glass door, nearly running inside with pent up glee. Computers everywhere! He spent the next twenty minutes chewing on wires with his mechanical fingers and re-configuring their already advanced system. In no time, well, what he considered no time, he had completely control of the entire system that was now capable of manually controlling anything in the air within a 500-meter radius. Ten felt all-powerful, he felt he had the world at his fingertips. Just a few buttons and... something registered as The Fallacy was under his completely control. Picking up the control stick like a video game controller, he steered the thing and aimed at the ground. Crash and die, Drachman! Laughing to himself in the silent room, he listened to the echo...Echo...ECHO! Ten felt a shiver run down his spine when he suddenly noticed something else on the radar beside the ship he was controlling. This blip was blue, he colored to mean that it was Amestrian. Who was... Both lights went out. What the hell? He pushed back from the chair and blinked, shrugging. Must have been his imagination. He let go of the stick and scanned over the radar for another victim.

This was his forté. He could easily wreck havoc on the field, but it took too much effort. Ten much rather preferred this where it was warm and he was alone. No one to bother him. Peace...and quiet, well, maybe not the peace part; this was war no matter how one looked at it. He laughed to himself and seized control of what appeared to be a RIOTE carrier that was name ETOIRCARRY, which made it way too damn obvious. It made him sick how obvious that was. A sigh. The bird crashed and also disappeared off the radar, but after that, the airspace he had in his control was completely empty. Damn. Ten stretched his automail arms in wait, gloves hovering over the keyboard.

A few minutes passed with him staring at it until finally something not blue showed up. He forced his power onto that one as well, lifting the control stick and leaning back in his chair. This one would be his toy; it had guns galore. "Brigadier General Brighton, this is Warrant Officer Takumi Tasuku I have control over a ship in the sky, please give me coordinates in which to fire upon."

Despite all their efforts, Ten already knew Amestris would lose. This was just a game he was playing just for fun.

[Toss Ivanova]

There he was, minding his own business when suddenly his baby was an array of alarms. No matter what he did, The Fallacy would not respond to his commands. It was only a few minutes before the onset of panic completely overtook Toss and he slammed his fist into the same dent in his dashboard. WHAT WAS THIS FUCKING SHIT!? "ARRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!?!?" He screamed in some Ishvallan-sounding anger and bashed his head into the touchscreen. The ground was getting closer and closer... WHY!? Red eyes growled with a sheen of sweat as they feasted on the display screen now showing a countdown. 10...9... WHAT WAS THIS SHIT FOR!? He scrapped at the leather seat with his nails, trying to eject, but finding not even that FUCKING WORKED. SHIT! "SHIT!" WHAT SHOULD HE DO?! He nearly cried as he fumbled around inside the cockpit, not daring to unbuckle himself. His ship was durable it would be okay...it would. IT WOULD, GOD DAMMIT. Of course, he wasn't worried about himself at all. He'd just...you know...be inhuman and use his shield. Yep. But The Fallacy was different.... It was the last place where...he saw his sister awake--it was his masterpiece--it was... 8...7... FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR COUNTDOWN YOU FUCKING BASTARD ROT IN HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Toss felt the tears now. It was no longer nearly crying; it was now crying. It hurt... And he realized his weakness then. His sister. "Shove..." he murmured, touching the controls lovingly. "I ruined your life...and now I can't even keep my own ship intact. I'm...I'm a failure." 6...5... Sobs wracked him, but he pushed them down, trying to focus clearly through the blur. Buttons...did he try everything? Toss began pressing buttons like a little obnoxious kid in an elevator. ...Nothing was happening. Fuck it hurt. He swiped at his cheeks, taking deep breaths. "It's not over yet, Fallacy. I'll save you. I swear it." 4...3... "WHY THE FUCK IS THIS HAPPENING!?" Karma? Other shit he didn't believe in? Why couldn't it be another ship!? Why The Fallacy?! Why why why whywhywhrehfuewrgjerwf...df.ew.fqwerq$%#$^jsae^%$^%&%$tgfds... 2...2.5... Something happened.

The Fallacy's laser charged from the the last button, firing, and showering the night sky with sparks of hyper-powered energy. Just then, what looked like a UFO dove into his headlights just in time for the blast to hit it. Aliens? ...An Amestrian ship? His radar was down, but it sure as hell didn't look like any of Drachma's or RIOTE's. Toss would know...he was a man of the air after all. "Heh...out with a bang huh?" He patted the dashboard lovingly, tears dropping onto his pale skin. 1...

Shove...

Fire was all he knew in this world. He no longer had skin. He was no longer human. He didn't know what he was. Not even the coldest snow could survive how hot these fires were burning. It was as if...they would burn forever, eating up his happiness, sapping his strength, and threatening his immortality. It...was funny...so funny as he lay there, basking in the heat like a lizard in the sun. He sputtered a pathetic laugh, tasting iron on his tongue. It dribbled over his lips and pooled beside his head. So...damn funny. Why was it...that he couldn't get up? Normally he'd stand right up, but... he was just so tired. Maybe it was better to go down with his ship... just disappear. Shove would be okay...his parents would find a way to keep paying for her care. She'd...be okay without him. If he just...disappeared. Dirty, white hair billowed in a cold breeze, sticking to his forehead with red glue. It itched. He reached a clawed hand up to brush it out of his glazed eyes, but found it caught in something... Probably a piece of the Fallacy, now broken like whatever soul he had left.

What the fuck is wrong with you? It said. He felt something writhe inside of him, bashing at a cage with a frying pan, glaring at him through closed eyelids... He snapped his eyes open and sat straight up, noting just then that the entirety of The Fallacy was frozen and that there was a giant pike of ice stabbed through the center of him. ...Ow? Yeah...it hurt like a bitch, but for some reason it didn't actually hurt. The strange tattoo on the back of his left hand was glowing violently... He didn't know what that meant. "You dipshit, it means you died. How stupid can you be?! And I've been so kind to you."

"...what..." Toss coughed, spitting out blood and struggling to yank the pike out of him and where it was lodged deep in the soil below the feet of snow. It was...so long. "That's what she said." How was it stabbed into him... Where did the fires go? Just...what? Who was that voice he kept hearing so faintly...?

"I am Greed; I'm you, but we were jarred out of balance when that red-haired bitch impaled you. What, don't remember? That's because I saved your fucking ass. Now get with the picture or I won't even bother with your shit anymore. Be glad Father is dead."

"Great. Now I'm fucking crazy."

"... Idiot. I am you. Think of it like talking to the tattoo and just fucking listen. If you don't move your ass in ten seconds, you're dead. Nineteen lives, gone. Run the fuck away. I'll shut up now. And it's only because we're starting to connect again... You'll be understanding the situation soon with your damn pea sized brain."

"NOW LISTEN HERE YOU FUCKING LUNATI--" He was gone. Somehow...Toss just knew he was gone. Because he now remembered. Ice... Everything was baked in ice because...because...the Ice Queen was here. "Reila Tsukino..." He murmured.

"That's right, homunculus. You crashed my ship, I'd think that you would remember me, or does that icicle lodged in your heart mar your judgement?" He recognized her from just the few pictures he had seen. She stood in front of him, blazing like the fires once were, but a steady stream of blood was running down the side of her face like her hair and dripping off her chin. She panted ruggedly, the harshness of pain bleeding into her voice. Red hair...golden eyes... Of all the people on this planet, she was truly one of the most terrifying. She could kill him. Death...death. He could die... Just provoke her a little. Then he could rest in peace with his ship...alone in the dark. But--but...

"I'm WAY too fucking pissed to let you kill me. NOW BACK THE FUCK OFF. From what I see, you were the one who froze my fucking controls." His voice was vicious, bridging on feral as he yanked the icicle out of him and let it fall. He stood up, towering over her with a glowing red gaze. He was definitely not human. The center of him was simmering with power as it healed, albeit slowly. The human girl was at a major disadvantage, but he heard that she could conjure tornadoes...that she could stop bullets. How would he kill her then? IT JUST PISSED HIM OFF. Who did she think she was taking down The Fallacy!? What gave her the right!? Yeah, yeah this was war and all that jazz, but still. STILL. It was HIS precious ship. It was...all he had ever wanted. WANTED. That, and his sister to open her eyes. That was...that was why he gave her part of the life he had just lost. His shield probably would have worked if he hadn't been weakened by the act of feeding her a sliver of his stone. He suddenly realized that tears were waterfalling down his face. It...just hurt so much. He couldn't stop... He was so angry it wouldn't stop. "GET BACK," he yelled, reactivating the scales all over his body that had just begun to vanish. This was the beginning of life number nineteen. He would start it by taking Reila Tsukino's life. He would start by taking her own icicle and shoving it--

Blackness ate at the already skewed picture of chaos, throwing his mind into a abyss where no thought could cross. The last thing he saw was the tip of a sword pointed at his neck before he lost consciousness.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Andddddddd.......that's 5,600 words in one day XD]

[Guest]

Missed her target? Damn. Had she understimated her opponent? Had she overestimated herself? There was little time to access the low success of her ditch effort to force the enemy into a mistake. The sound of fighting below spilled out of the rotten floor boards. The building was fully occupied? They weren't shooting at an outside target, they were engaged in a firefight here inside the building. By the sound of the boots slamming against the floor, the enemy with no uniform had gone for a charge... "Fuck Drachma. Fuck you. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.". Yelling too? She must have been really pissed off. Maybe she'd make a mistake now, all she needed was the slightest slip-up to expire. Shots fired off, filling her ears with the crack of the enemy's guns and the splintering of wood. A bullet sailed by her ear, mere inches away. Fuck, this cover was useless! Nika tried to dash out of the way as a bullet crashed into the wall right behind her, where she had just been, but she only manged a few feet before she abruptly halted, throwing her weight back to stop herself from falling into the bear trap waiting malavolenty at her her feet. Shit! How had she not seen that earlier? It was right fucking th- "Ahhck!" Nika grunted in painful response to the bullet that grazed her arm, tearing across skin as it skimmed her flesh, until it continued on into the wall behind her. Shit, that was too damn close.

Just then, a explosion's massive din shook the building from outside, causing it to shake and groand, and the windows to rattle and shatter. The hell was it now!? Where the Drachmans seriously calling in artillery or rocket rounds on their own damn buildings? They had to be close to a residential area, and far from the front, why were they going out of their way to bomb them? The explosion came from outside......Ito and the others, were they.... a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. The woman she was fighting had made for the door. Damnit! She was going to get away! Nika ducked out from her cover and fired off her remaining shots at the woman as she vanished out of the doorway.....not a single fucking shot landed. Fuck all. The darker haired Drachman woman went into hasty pursuit, grabbing her trench coat off the ground and pursuing the woman up stairs, past the firefight between her team and the the enemy. She should have stopped and assisted them, turned the tides in their favour more quickly; she would come to realize this later on, but at the moment, her mind was steeled and set to the enemy who had grazed her, whom she hadn't been able to hit a single time despite how hard she trained every single damn day. She'd take her out if it was the last damn thing she had to do, she wouldn't let her shortcomings just flee from her grasp like that!

She stayed on the tail of her fleeing opponent, firing shots at her and ducking behind cover and walls when the woman returned with her own. Neither managed to hit each other, just riddle the building with a fresh set of holes. But they were going up a multi-story building. There would be a dead end at some point, and then there would be nowhere left to run. Nika slid fresh clips into her handguns and shoved them back into their holsters. They were approaching the roof, an open area. She could tip this in her favour yet.....Nika slung the Heckler & Koch HK416 from off of her back, checking the magazine and pressing the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. This time, she wouldn't miss.....

The trail was still hot, she reached the busted door that led to the snow covered roof. The cold child that had filled the inside of this decrepit old building was on full blast up here, bitter to the skin. Good thing she had grabbed her coat. She had only taken a few cautious steps out into the open when a a pair of fired shots whizzed past her left side, glancing off of the entrance to the roof and the snow on the ground. The enemy was like a cornered animal now, if she was trying to hit her without taking the time to aim. Nika raised the rifle in her gloved hands up to her eye, looking down the magnified scope. She squeezed the trigger and a burst of three high velocity bullets erupted from the muzzle, impacting the corner of the chimney the woman hid behind, kicking pulverized brick chunks and dust into the air and around the snow. She might have preferred her FN Five Sevens, but nobody coul argue against the accuracy rate of a selective fire Amestrian special forces rifle. The second she caught a glance of that woman, she'd get her between the eyes. Nika crouched down in the snow, partially hiding behind the brick roof entrance, he rifle trained on that woman's hiding spot.

"That was a warning shot. you're cornered. Toss down your weapons and come out with your hands in the air, and we'll accept your surrender as a P.O.W." Nika announced, finding it in her calmer and more rational side to give this woman one more chance. She didn't have to kill her, after all, she just had to win.

[Shula Brighton]

A soft hiss passed Shula's pressed lips as caring fingers brushed over the curve of the joint, her body still shaking and Shula trying to assess the damage without moving the limb at all. Oh God, she didn't want to move her arm... It was still attached to her body, but that sudden hard and heavy pull had yanked on the muscles around her scapula and the ligaments of her humerus and popped it, leaving her whole body aching. She wasn't sure if it was just incredibly sore, or if she needed to have Acra pull on it to pop it back into place. Hoo boy, she wasn't looking forward to that, and something told her this was going to be sore for a while.

Their friends, their soldiers... She could still hear them calling out, trying to find each other in the debris. Trying to call for a medic for those who'd been hurt but were still alive. Calling to find she and Spade who'd vanished from under the jeep where they'd last been spotted. Shula sucked in a deep breath, swallowing pain and trying to swallow her own emotions from regurgitating and causing her to make an ass of herself. One glance from Spade told her volumes, mainly that the detective knew what she was thinking. The man had a knack for that, either because he was just that brilliant, because they thought alike a lot of the time, or because Shu had a habit of wearing her thoughts on her sleeve. No matter what it was, he'd always been able to read her like an open book. She sat up a little more, trying to rotate her arm, not really wanting to make eye contact with anyone right now. She could hear them, and it was digging into her soul, but every time she closed her eyes all she could see was that horrible scene that had been illuminated and made to haunt her dreams. ”It's painful, isn't it—seeing so many people die.”

Spade's soft voice broke through the quiet that Shula had partially hoped to drown herself in, cutting through the thick heaviness that weighed between themas she still struggled to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Slowly Shula looked back up at Spade slowly, red eyes dark in the dim light and shining from wetness and hurt. That must've been a rhetorical question, though; witnessing that hurt more than anything she'd seen so far. It wasn't fair! Words were still beyond her scope of thinking right now, and she could only nod slightly, her grip on her body tight as she tried to relieve the pain with pressure. "Looking back from safety at the piles of bodies you left behind... Hearing them call your name as they drop like flies in order to pay for just one more of you own breaths." She glanced hopelessly at Acra for a moment. If he hadn't been assigned to guard her, would he have been left down there to fend for himself? She knew not all of the little squad she'd brought had survived the Kremlin falling... Would Acra have? Would he have forgiven her?

”That's our job, Shu. Our job is to live and save as many as we can along the way. But we must live because without us--without us what will they do other than run from death? We must lead them into the darkness, come out, and then gather more. One day, we might actually accomplish something. One day... But until then, we cannot die. Once we die... Well, I believe there's something worse than death that comes with giving up." Was this... what her grandfather and brother had tried so hard to protect her from by trying to keep her out of the military? Trying to keep her from seeing the sudden purge of human life that would never come back? Was this what she'd sold her soul for and why she'd bargained with a devil for her life? To walk back into Hell willingly and offer up her friends who trusted her as sacrifices? Who the hell WROTE these rules?!

Shula choked back a sob, only allowing a loud sniffle out. Against the screaming protests of her arm, she raised her left hand to her cheek, trying to wipe away her years but only really succeeding in smearing the blood from her glove across her face. She knew... she knew he was right. His experience weighed through on his voice, and though decades younger than her retired grandfather, it was just the same; you lead in order to keep them going. Her eyes burned. She wanted to scream out for the unfairness of it all like an upset child not allowed to play with their friends. Take a leadership role at the cost of possibly sacrificing the people you loved in order to live and continue leading. If I hadn't been put to lead them and were still one of the soldiers following you to Hell, would I have been left behind, too? Shula's stomach sank, not daring to voice the question; she already knew the answer, plain and simple. Yes. She'd been left behind before, even though that had been an accident; she'd had no radio and never got to the helicopter, and it was assumed she wasn't coming. They only came back for her when they found out that she was still very much alive and in danger. If she hadn't taken the radio, she'd have just been another casualty. She would have been left behind to ensure he got away, and as hard a truth as that was to swallow, she knew it was true. But hadn't you already decided long before now that you would willingly do so for Spade if he asked? He could order you to sit in Hell and rot and you would until he gave you orders to do otherwise.... because that's what loyalty IS. Being willing to make that sacrifice so he can do his job. Now you have to own up and be ready to ask the same of those you employ, even though some of them don't know you well enough to feel any obligation to you... That's just the way it is.

A quiet Mhmm hummed past her lips, nodding again and finally lifting again to Spade's eyes and not looking away. Spade's smile was gentle, and it kinda calmed her a little. She would have to find some way to live with the shitty decisions because that was what the job entailed. ”I... I understand.” Her voice was soft and barely audible as she sucked in another breath, turning to Acra as Spade got up to respond to a voice they'd heard from coming up over the ledge. Acra looked tired and kinda woozy, but she couldn't blame him. But the somewhat ill look her beloved puppy had was concerning. Letting go of her shoulder with a wince, she moved her hand to touch Acra's arm, looking up at him. ”Acra... Are you okay?” She narrowed her eyes, looking closer at his face. I was hard to see in the dark under just starlight, but- ”Acra, you're bleeding.” She began to lift higher on her knees to move closer to him to see where the blood clotting on his cheek and temple were coming from when her radio buzzed.

"Brigadier General Brighton, this is Warrant Officer Takumi Tasuku I have control over a ship in the sky, please give me coordinates in which to fire upon." Takumi! He was okay! She'd been so lost trying to get up to the building and away from the fire that she hadn't noticed that all the power was down now. Shula pressed the talk button, smiling a little in her heart to hear his voice. ”Takumi! I'm glad you're okay... Great job on cutting the power and taking over the planes... Clear the sky and keep if clear. If you've got some firepower to the plan check... 56 45 by 37 36. Someone on the channel said that there's a nest of Drachman soldiers nesting about 12 clicks south from here. Fly in quietly until you're close and I'll tell everyone in that area to pull back a little.” Shula let go of the button, orders given and glanced up to Spade who was slowly approaching his brother... Warily was the word. She narrowed her eyes. What was that all about....

Nevermind that for now. ”Acra... I'm going to undo my coats for a minute. I need you to feel if my arm's pulled out of socket... and if it is... pop it back in for me.” Shula knew that would suuuuuuuck... But if she wanted her arm to even be quasi-functional until they left this godforsaken tundra, she'd need it at least put back into place. Her right hand moved to start undoing the top coat, fingers fumbling with the buttons, when a sharp whizzing pierced the darkness and all other sounds, followed by a sharp bang of metal ramming through metal. That impact alone sent shockwaves through the air followed by the intense heat. Another colossal bang followed as the second, larger ship the plane had crashed into came down, crashing hard against the building they were all standing on. The impact shook the building violently, Shula crying out from landing back on her side and jarring her arm. ”What the fuck was THAT?!” Forcing herself back onto her feet quickly, Shula ran to the edge of the building and looked over the side.

That was the ship from Briggs!! She coughed, backing away from the smoke below as she turned back to her friends. ”That was General Tsukino's ship that just crashed-- I'm going down to help them!” She ran back to the side of the building they'd all been hauled up on and found the grappling line... it was still connected to the overhang of the wall, and seemed solid enough, and Ishvalla knew she was lighter than Acra and Spade. ”Acra, stay with Spade! I'm going down to help with the fire!” She stepped over the ledge and moved the arm that didn't want to move, gripping the line with both hands and feet and zipped down to the ground. Going down was MUCH faster than going up. She knew she may not be able to help much, but fire was her specialty; she'd be able to draw out the fire and kill it before too many more were hurt.

But as her feet touched ground, the heat had gone away. Weird... Her feet moved faster than her thoughts as she ran around the corner of the building, gasping at the wreckage. It was completely caked in ice, the metal warped and twisted. She'd heard shouting between Reila and someone else. She ran closer around the large building. ”GET BACK!” He sounded pissed. Shula skidded to a halt, looking on at Reila. She was hurt... Covered in blood, breathing hard and... holding a sword to an Ishvallan man's neck amidst the wreckage of a smaller plane and her ship. The man looked equally hurt. Her heart swelled as she raised her hand, running forward. ”WAIT!” Her feet stopped next to Reila and Toss, her eyes looking up into pools of molten gold. ”Please... Don't kill him. He's already too hurt to defend himself.” Shula breathed out, looking down at Toss again. Maybe it was because he was Ishvallan. Maybe because he was hurt already. And maybe she'd had enough. There were convention laws and ethics stating that if your enemy is wounded, you should take him prisoner and treat his wounds. Shula liked that, because it meant discussion could be had. She looked back up to Reila, her eyes pleading. ”Let's take him prisoner instead. He's a pilot for either Drachma or RIOTE... He'll have valuable information either way, and could be a good bargaining chip to settle this.” Much as she hated the idea of using someone to gain something the way she hated being used to gain something for someone else, it might save this man's life and help bring peace at the same time. ”If need be I'll have someone from South look after him until RIOTE's leaders are found...” Shula held her breath a moment before pushing the button for her radio. ”Across from the Kremlin, I need a medic here, NOW!” She looked back to Reila and her sword, hoping that the pilot's potential usefulness would at least stay her blade and spare just this one soldier.

[Guest]

So many voices were speaking at once... it almost made her wonder if she should have even spoken at all. But then the head of Fort Briggs smiled at her, and she felt some of her insecurities melt away. "Commander Han, we are glad to have you." The young girl smiled brightly and nodded her head once with enthusiasm. Alright! She totally.. had.. this.... Swallowing slowly, she glanced up to Xiao as he also introduced himself, her green eyes looking at everyone else that was there. It still boggled her mind to see the prominent leaders of the various countries standing so close. The King of Creta.... was a rather handsome man. She found herself staring at each in turn, feeling suddenly out of place which was just odd in itself. She always had to deal with people much older than her, and in positions of great importance. So why did she feel so out of place here? Was it the context? Was it the fact they were all far more experienced at this stuff than her? Or was it something else?

Pleasantries were exchanged between Ace and Reila, but she wasn't really listening, instead staring pointedly at the snow beneath their feet. So many people were around... and the atmosphere felt so heavy. Maybe that was it. No, she had felt such tension before on missions! This was hardly any different... right? But it was. It was so very different. Why had he chosen her to lead their front lining troops? She was hardly qualified! She'd only done special ops. Espionage, assassinations, informant... She was no general. So why her? And what did she do when they did come to combat? Did she stay human, or go fox? Oh lord... how would people react to her being a chimera? The apprehension was rising in her chest, nerves beginning to strain under her newfound position. No... No only in an emergency would she change forms. She was still formidable as a human! Even though she was so worried over how things would go, none of it reached her face, her smile just as sweet and small as always. No, she didn't dare show her insecurities here.

"Now that so many people are gathered, listen up! The channel for our comm is 4z81 and that is all of Fort Briggs currently in Moscow, Dai, and myself."

Orders! Yes. Ok. Glancing to Xiao and the others that were behind them, she met each of their gazes and nodded once upon completion. Did everyone have that? They better. 4z81... She'd remember that if nothing else. Game face time. Her signature smile was replaced by a mask of a serious calm, but it wasn't too intense. It just showed that she was serious. Ok, mission time. She had this... She had this... She kept telling herself that over and over, glancing to Ace as if he'd offer some kind of comfort. He had activated his alkahestry, his eyes shimmering like opals. It was such a pretty ability. What if shimmery contacts were made? Ooo that'd be so cool! ACK NO. She had been doing so well. Focus. This was really really important. "Anymore time wasted and we could completely lose our chance of victory; this is a country that we are fighting...with out small numbers; only more and more will trickle out from the mountains. I suggest setting out."

"Aye ma'am." She said softly under her breath, emerald orbs turning towards Xiao as she took a deep breath. Ok. It was time. She knew their orders. "Alright, lets move out! We're to stick to the outer edges of the city and offer support from there." She called to them all, her voice sharp against the sky. Turning back towards her men, she raised an arm and gestured for them to go ahead forward along the highway towards the grand city before them. They had to travel on foot, but it wasn't very far thankfully. They had their Chu no Ku, and their martial arts. That was it. And so the group moved forward with Jeu-Hee and Xiao at the head, her back tall as her long hair flowed out from beneath her hat. "I got this..." She murmured softly to herself, taking a deep calming breath. Yeah.... she had this....

[Guest]

He was very quiet. That was one thing she noticed first about him. Granted, he was normally sort of quiet, but this was different. There was an intensity to him that wasn't simply his bear form. Though maybe there were physiological differences that accounted for that. How could he talk? It must be the process that they used to make chimera's.... She should look into that- No. No, she was a woman of medicine and science. Not that alchemy wasn't science, it was just.... different. Their country relied on it so heavily that she sometimes got worried. She couldn't blame him as he snarled at Nyx, waiting patiently to hear her response to this once in a lifetime offer that she had given her.

Narrowing her eyes, she was right to be concerned about her chimeran partner, catching the fear that was in her eyes. Good. She wouldn't think of attacking then. Or hopefully she wouldn't. She might be able to get a cut in, but she would go down by someones hand if she tried. Her gaze flickered to the blade, the blood, then the little bitch herself. RIOTE dog.... But she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, more worried about her teammate that lay there in the snow. She had to take care of him quickly. "Thank you... It's not common for a soldier to have mercy on the battlefield. You have my gratitude, ma'am. And should we ever meet again, outside of war, then we shall meet not as enemies. I pray we don't meet again under these current circumstances." To that she had to nod slowly, brown eyes watching the young girl carefully as she blew the feather from her wing towards her. Was this a trick? Or... Catching the feather between her fingers as Nyx ran off. It was a beautiful feather.

But they had other things to tend to.

Exhaling slowly, the young doctor felt suddenly rather tired, glancing to the injuries that she had sustained. That one in her shoulder wasn't too good in the least bit. ”I wouldn’t have done the same, but you didn’t do the wrong thing." His nuzzle brought a small smile to her lips, a hand sliding through his fur as she looked to her bear friend. She had suspected, but to see such a thing in front of you was completely different. "I hope I didn't..." She murmured softly, falling quiet as he spoke once more. ”A woman once told me that my job is to speed up death, whereas hers was to slow it down. Remember that, Doctor.The blood of even the guilty is a heavy burden. Let me carry that for you.” To speed up death, whereas hers was to slow it down... Oh guilt... Survivors guilt could cripple even the strongest person, and she was no different. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled it slowly and thought over the faces of those that had come with them. All of them, she would not forget. She couldn't save everyone no matter what she did or how hard she tried. She had to remind herself of that.

"Now, save him. I'll protect you."

Yes. Darmon. Snapping out of it, she immediately moved forward and crouched down next to their man, grimacing at the sight of some minor burns and a wound in his hand and leg. There was also sign of head trauma as well. Hopefully he didn't inhale any smoke, or if any, it wasn't much. Sliding her gloves off, the bracelets slid into view upon her wrist, the chains clinking softly as she touched his head gently. Yep, slight fracture there. Her other hand began to check the rest of his limbs, so far finding nothing of serious concern minus his bleeding wounds. The rest of her check was clear, sliding the slim backpack off of her shoulders to the ground next to her. Bullets were ringing out elsewhere, and she glanced around to make sure none were coming close as she opened up her first aid kit.

It was quick work treating his wounds as best as she could, but he would probably need some more serious care. And that meant finding a medical humvee. "Viktor, can you carry both of us on your back?" She asked as checked her radio. This is Doctor Nikita of Briggs requesting emergency evac for a wounded soldier at the Kremlin. "This is Jackson. Pickup approved, rendezvous at..." Cora looked up and around, getting a feel for where they'd be going. "... ETA 4 minutes." "Copy that." Turning to Darmon, she carefully shifted and picked him up, walking over to Viktor upon his confirmation that they would be no issue. Placing Darmon on him carefully, she swung up on his back and relayed the street corner at which they were going to meet the medical humvee. And off they went. They had to take care of him first. A few minutes later, they were at the appropriate spot, watching as the humvee rolled up handing off Darmon to them before they were left alone.

Looking down at Viktor beneath her, it was sort of weird to think she was riding on the back of her friend, but here they were. And he said it was ok sooooo huzzah? Honestly, who could say they'd ridden a bear? Not many, thats for sure. "Hmm..... Where should we go-- OHMYGODISTHATAHELICOPTER?!" Sure enough, not too far from them, an Amestrian helicopter came crashing down. Shit. They should go check it out. Viktor...." She didn't need to ask twice as the bear man beneath her ran off through the snowy streets towards the crash site. The likelihood of survivors was unlikely, but they still should check. After all, they had completed their main mission of.... Well, not crashing into the Kremlin, but certainly crashing into Moscow. And at least two had survived. That was a sobering thought, but no. She wouldn't dwell. Focus on the future, focus on those who still held the potential to be saved. Death lived with them, alongside them, and they couldn't escape it. That was just life.

Rounding a corner, the wind whipped through her hair, tossing it about as she held onto Viktors coarse fur. The crashed helicopter lay down the street, slowing to a walk as she slid off of his back. Dead bodies were littering the area, some by bullet wounds, some... Jesus, were those claw marks?! What in the world had they encountered, chimera? Or something else? No, that was just outlandish. Frowning, she strode forward and looked about. She saw tracks of blood droplets beside footprints in the snow, following them to a store front. There was a woman in aqua armor inside, and a man. What was even the context of the situation? Blinking, she held up her hands in a non-offensive motion, signaling that she meant no harm. "Dr. Cora Nikita of Fort Briggs, please let me assist." She spoke, wondering if they'd immediately focus on how she didn't even look old enough to be there. Pfft. They needed her help. The woman looked like she had something decide her arm was tasty, possibly broken if that were the case. The man.... She wasn't sure. He didn't look too steady to her, not in the least bit. She started to slide her first aid backpack off of her shoulders, hoping that she had enough supplies within to help both of them. She only took another couple of steps inside, not wanting to move further should they feel threatened or something.

[Dai]

"Daigoro... Ito, you say? Ain't that fuckin' fantastic." That man's grin... was disturbing. That was all that he could say, quite frankly. Because there was nothing else to think on this situation. That face scared him, and as he slowly stepped backwards, the other man before him introduced himself. "Call me Takatori, Lieutenant Colonel Daigoro Ito of Fort Briggs. Lets dance." Dance, huh? A grenade. To the left. Dai didn't move, just watching as it exploded by his side and pushed air past him, the shrapnel and explosive ordinance being mostly deflected by his own magnetic field, though there was still a little pain from the things that had gotten through. Ignoring most of it, though grimacing slightly, he watched the approaching rocket with narrowed eyes, taking a single step back as the air friction over the rocket caused ionization to occur on the outside, charging it enough to be pushed back by his magnetic field and stream out to the side, exploding onto the ground. This was Daigoro's strange strength; his calmness tended to scare, or at least cause discomfort, in even the most powerful and frightful enemies. This man had yet to give him reason to be truly worried, yet the reaction to his name gave him a few things to think about. That, and that man, Elastor Ito, an obviously Cretan man with an Aerugese surname. Strange; he couldn't be any relation to Dai, yet he felt that this man was...

Dai's red orbs focused onto Takatori now, watching the long dagger that he drew and growling softly. That weapon was going to be a bitch to fight against; he was pretty sure that Takatori was well-versed in the arts of wielding that blade. He'd probably have to draw his own, too. Reaching in behind him, he slid one of the tonfa up and attached it to his left hand, before moving slightly out of the way of the grenade blast, his right side being peppered with pain this time. Although his face didn't show it, this was starting to hurt, and blood was running down both sides from where the shrapnel had gotten in. There were four men around him, now. All of them were armed, and probably quite dangerous. If he wanted to escape at any time, then he would need to get through these men as well. Daigoro slowly started to circle Takatori, lowering his gaze to the man as if there was no longer anything to worry about. He'd fight Takatori, and he'd get away with his life; that was something he could be sure of. He smirked, and dropped the end of the tonfa covering the blade onto the ground.

The moment it hit the ground, the pair were off like shots. Streaming towards each other, a river of red hair and a short mop of black collided, sending sparks out to the sides from the clashing of their steel. The red was pushed backwards by the sheer force that this man put out, and Takatori took that as his chance, sliding a foot across the ground in order to sweep Daigoro off of his feet. The collision happened, and Dai fell to the side, pushing off of the ground and diving around, flipping back onto his feet and brandishing the blade once again. He didn't speak, and neither did Takatori. There were no need for words right now. Pushing off again, the second direct charge happened; the pair ran, clashed, dispersed, and ran again, in an endless cycle that flickered between the pair. Feet kicked up dirt and snow, and as they danced their tango of death, the clashing continued on and on. Red eyes were focused heavily onto Takatori now, breathing starting to come heavily from his chest. He wasn't often used to physically fighting, and especially not when it was this brute-force. Stepping backwards slightly, he heard jeering coming from the mobster behind him.

Takatori, on the other hand, wasn't even beginning to sweat; in fact, he had used hardly any energy on this idiot. Shit, he was sure that this was going to be somewhat fun, so the whole thing with this guy being weak sorta bored him. Growling, he quickly loaded another shot into the grenade launcher and fired it directly at Daigoro, expecting the man to dodge, or at least try and defend. Dai, however, pushed through it, shouting out loudly as the explosion happened right in front of him. Fresh pain coursed through him, but he continued to ignore it, in the hopes that he'd be able to get over it quickly. He pushed off the ground, and picked up a metal bar that had been laying around, clicking the fingers on his right hand a few times and magnetizing it to the point of instability. He didn't expect this to do much to Takatori, but at least it would do something. Landing it on the ground in front of the mobster, Dai dived out of the way and watched as the explosion occurred. As he expected, Takatori simply shielded his face, before walking through the smoke towards Daigoro himself, brandishing the blade with a bemused smirk on his face. He would kill that man, and he would do it slowly. Make him suffer. Just like the rest of the Fox's family. Fuck, this was just going to be fun.

"...shit." He'd been put down already. The man was already just about over him, and brandishing that knife as if he was going to gut a beast he'd just caught. Daigoro Ito was rarely scared of people. People only hurt you if you hurt something of theirs. But this man scared Dai, for he felt that this man would just kill him for the fun of it. There was no enmity coming from Takatori. It was just pure wish to kill. And that scared Dai. Backing away a little, he felt the presence of a man behind him, and growled. In between a rock and a hard place. He could almost hear himself chuckling in madness. It was all over... Closing his eyes slightly, he started chuckling a little more, before laughing. Yes, laughing. Daigoro Ito was laughing, for he was in the face of death, and realizing that it was about to happen. If he had only stayed with Reila, then he wouldn't be in the mess he was in. It was all so funny. It was hilarious. So much... BOOM. So much boom? What did that even mean? Eyes whipped themselves open, and it became obvious where the explosion and the crashing sounds of metal were coming from. There were two ships in midair near the Kremlin. One of them... was... "Reila..." That was it. Fuck Takatori. Fuck dying. Fuck that all. Fuck this. A metal arm suddenly whipped out, gripping the leg of the gloved MiW operative. Dai's left hand went to the circle on his arm, and he activated his Alchemy, lowering the temperature in the target's body to something below -70 degrees Celsius (-94 Fahrenheit), near instantaneously. His body froze into position, and Dai threw him around and into Takatori's path, rolling backwards and shouting out as he used his momentum to stand back up.

Daigoro Ito rarely got above annoyed. Anger was an emotion that he rarely wished to feel. However, this was different. It was as if every thought of possibility; the grief at possibly losing Reila, the annoyance with himself for getting taken down, the pure frustration of this pointless war... It finally got to him. Slowly raising his head to look at Takatori, the red eyes were filled with something new. "This hand of mine..." The automail started to glow with the Alchemic energy that was spreading throughout it. "...glows with an awesome power." He growled, and looked at Takatori, the hate pouring in as the first of the men started to attack. The man with the rapier ran at him, and swung the sword to attack. Almost not even flinching, the redheaded Alchemist ducked to the side and gripped this mobster's face, freezing him with his Alchemy and throwing him to the side with a soft growl. "It's burning grip... tells me to defeat you..." His gaze lowered a tad, "Take this." The next two soldiers ran at him simultaneously, and Dai pulled the first one in closer with his arm, causing the other man to tumble in. Dai quickly froze the first, and threw him away, freezing the second as well. He took a step forwards, and then looked over at the wreckage. No, there was no more time. Stepping away, he looked at Takatori with a pair of narrowed eyes, "My love, my anger, and all of my sorrow..." He looked down slightly and laughed once more, "I'll get to the end of that later. Our fight isn't over, Takatori." Pushing off the ground, the redhead suddenly ran off into the distance, following the trail of smoke. They were only about nine blocks down from the explosion, and he'd let Nika know later. He just hoped that he wasn't leaving anything to chance by letting that man remain behind him...

Sprinting through the streets of Moscow, Dai almost started to feel sick. Ugh, this wasn't going well. His rage was finally clearing up, but his worry was getting larger and larger. Reila's ship had just gone down, so he was feeling that entire feeling of worry. What if she'd died? No, he couldn't freakin' consider that! That would never happen! Reila Tsukino dying was... "That's right, homunculus. You crashed my ship, I'd think that you would remember me, or does that icicle lodged in your heart mar your judgement?" Everything stopped in his world. His heart beat once, and then died as if there was nothing there anymore. That voice. That woman was okay. Goddamnit, she was okay... She was... heh. Why had he even needed to worry? Sliding the other tranquilizer pistol out of it's holster, Dai raised it to point at the white-haired man, staring down the sights. He was a homunculus, and judging by it all, probably Greed. "I'm WAY too fucking pissed to let you kill me. NOW BACK THE FUCK OFF. From what I see, you were the one who froze my fucking controls." He had to do this now. He wasn't even sure if they'd hit him, but at least he'd be able to attempt to assist. Firing off three silenced shots, three darts of tranquilizer drug, enough to drop an elephant, flew off in the general direction of Toss. They wouldn't hit Reila, he could tell that instantly, but whether or not they hit the Homunculus, that remained to be seen. "GET BACK," Dai didn't get back, instead he continued to approach as Toss' scales started to cover his body once more. And then... the man just dropped. He almost wanted to thank his darts, but was sure that there was more to it. Most likely exhaustion. And in the end, Toss was on the ground, sword at his throat.

Running forwards and panting, the head of red hair atop the man of red eye clambered over wreckage, placing a hand onto a pole and gritting his teeth, now just realizing exactly what hurt. ”WAIT!” A voice. Dai turned his head, watching the smaller Ishvallan woman run towards the pair. He would wait, for now. When she had finished speaking, then he would approach. ”Please... Don't kill him. He's already too hurt to defend himself.” That sounded like an argument he would make as well. Chuckling softly, a bemused Daigoro kept watching, ”Let's take him prisoner instead. He's a pilot for either Drachma or RIOTE... He'll have valuable information either way, and could be a good bargaining chip to settle this. If need be I'll have someone from South look after him until RIOTE's leaders are found... Across from the Kremlin, I need a medic here, NOW!” Alright, it was now time for him to step in; make his presence known. Stumbling over the wreckage, past fires that were burning, the man slowly stepped towards the trio with a cough and a hack, approaching Reila and Toss with heavy breathing, showing the exhaustion that he was now feeling.

"She's right, Reila." He let those words flow out towards her, and gave the woman a kind smile that showed that he was here for her. Stepping closer and closer, he walked around Toss' unconscious form and approached her, nodding and giving her a look through strong eyes, though his body was tired beyond anything that he could comprehend, "We don't need to kill one man for the sake of a war. The Kremlin burns, that should be enough to demoralize the Drachmans. Our only remaining... problem is RIOTE." He growled lightly, attempting to scare off the pain that he was feeling all over, bloody pocks on his body from the grenade explosions. He was worse off than he'd originally thought. Pained chuckles escaped his throat, and he looked in those golden eyes, knowing that she was injured, knowing that she needed rest. "C'mon. You're injured, and so am I. Let's at least get looked at by the medics before we continue." He'd just run a far distance for Reila, under the pain that he was in; he was almost ready to collapse. He could still continue for a little while, but without resting, he was going to, most certainly, fall to the ground... His gaze then went to Shula, red meeting red, the quarter-Ishvallan speaking to the woman with a calm and kind smile on his face, "T-thank you. I don't think this man should die, either. I don't think..." He grit his teeth and closed an eye at the sudden onset of pain, "...that death is needed; however I go along with what is for the best. One must die so many can live. That is... the way of the world, is it not?"

{I hope it's okay, Vi. DX}

[Guest]

As he had raised his head to look at her, it confirmed that he understood Amestrian. Well that was good. At least she didn't have to worry about not being able to communicate with him, though in reality that wouldn't be a huge issue. Hand motions could be a wonderful thing. What did surprise her, was when he suddenly decided chivalry mattered at this point in this context and picked her up, causing her eyes to go wide with surprise. "C'mon, y'r injured." "Wh-what..." Ack, wrong language. He had staggered to stand, and now he was carrying her? N-no. She couldn't permit this. But he had already hoistered her up onto his shoulders, and she didn't dare move for fear of him toppling over. "I guess if you insist..." She mumbled with a light sigh, more out of irony and the inability to really react than anything else. What was it with this man?

He was moving slow, he had injured himself. Hardly surprising considering he had just jumped out of that helicopter. How could he think to try to pull such a feat such as carrying her after that? Especially because of her garb, on top of her own body weight. She opened her mouth to speak again, but closed it a couple of seconds later with a sigh. No, she wouldn't convince him. Her good hand tightened a little as she wondered what she should do, already knowing all too well what the Duchamp family would do. Hell, that even aligned with what she should do as a soldier. But what should she do? What did she wish to do in this situation? Too often she thought of the expectations and never herself, and right now... she couldn't even say why, but she felt it was more appropriate to also ponder what she herself would do. A small cry of pain, her eyes darted towards the man beneath her. It made part of her cry out in protest, he was doing this to himself by carrying her. So why was it endearing? Why did it upset her so? She couldn't even think as a soldier anymore, numbed from all the events leading up to this moment. And this was no fitting place for a noble lady. Tea parties didn't do in the midst of a battle field littered with friends and enemies.

The door was kicked inward, and he set her down which she was much relieved at. She licked her lips as she watched him, taking her time before introducing herself. Her last question felt redundant, clearly he needed medical attention. She just... she just didn't know what was even wrong with him. He chuckled. That was a good sign, right? Blue met brown, holding that gaze as she listened to his answer, "A-Apos. Major Apos Rajan, of the Amestrian Army. The State Alchemist known as Mimicry, believe it or not." Her eyes widened once more. A State Alchemist... Oh. Guess it was good she had found him then. An ally, and a good one if the reports on Mimicry were as accurate as they claimed to be. There was something about the way he answered, despite the pain, there was something else. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the weary Captain seemed to soften as she stared at him. This was a man that had endured much, more than he let on. He almost seemed as weary as her though she may be reading too much into it. His gaze had returned to her, and then he had grinned so slightly to her as they sat there in the snow, injured and tired. For some reason, it made her cheeks warm. What was it with him? Apos Rajan.... She wouldn't forget that name anytime soon.

"Heh..." She straightened up a little, as he seemed about to speak, kneeling down in the snow in front of him. There was a counter behind her which she braced her back with, feeling pain seeping through her right arm. Yep. That was broken. No, no she couldn't show him. Dammit, she shouldn't! Yet.... Her lips tightened as she felt the cold seeping into her wrist and into her arm, staring down at the leather glove that hid her hand. Hah. What use that was. "Guess I did something right, huh? Didn't think... I was gonna last th'night..." Her eyebrows furrowed at that, glancing about to make sure that no one was coming. She only had her alchemy, and a knife. Could she defend both of them? Then she looked back at him, how the moonlight fell through the windows and cast their shadows, lighting up those sapphire depths of her eyes. "Yes, you did fine Major Rajan. Not everyone can say they jumped out of a helicopter and survived. But you are going to last the night, I promise you." She said that with the utmost seriousness, offering him a faint smile before she perked up to the sound of movement outside. Was it Drachman soldiers?

Pushing herself up off the floorboards, she drew the blade from its sheath and remained crouched behind the counter, peering carefully around the corner. There was a girl standing there, short, with rather distinctive lips. Heh, they reminded her of those cartoon octopus lips on the shows that her youngest siblings watched. But the fatigues.... An adaptation on Briggs? The girl held her hands up, and so Vivian stood, prepared to defend the injured major no matter one. By god she would save someone tonight! "Dr. Cora Nikita of Fort Briggs, please let me assist." A doctor. Thank the lord. Heh... her appearance didn't reflect her apparent age, it took a while to become a medical professional. "Captain Vivian Duchamp of the Royal Guards and Crown Alchemists under Lord Dietrich. Please, attend to Major Rajan first." She spoke, suddenly realizing as wooziness hit just how much blood must have been steadily trickling out. Oh boy... Sitting back down, she exhaled slowly, hissing in pain as the doctor approached. Yes, she could wait.

[Alisa Donnikova]

"Ahhck!"

A cry from behind. GOOD. She had finally fucking hit that bitch behind her. Shots were exchanged in that stairwell, and now... the cold wasteland of the roof. Cries hit the sky, shouts from below, explosions all around. It was a like some tantric dance to the mercenary, the survivalist who had committed one of the dumbest things you could. She had gotten involved in this goddamn war. And now, she was getting heated over this fight. She had to think. She had to plan. The fight down below in the square was calming down, it sounded like it would be over soon if she was any judge. Excellent. It means that she could probably get down without fear of stray bullets. But how to get down.... Peering around, the edge of the rooftop was about fifteen feet away, biting her lower lip as she slid her beanie cap off of her head. Ok. Ok. Ok.... What should she do...

The woman was there. She was at the door. She had to reload. Sliding in the new clips, her Cutlasses were ready to rumble but was it worth it? She was told to make sure they didn't take this building. So far the others were doing rather well, and who knew the people that were down below. One was psycho, that she could tell from his laugh. A man who enjoyed the slaughter. Heh, he understood this side that they were on. Of darkness and death, of gore and violence. But he was further beyond than her. She... She was in her own section of this place they found themselves. A way out. Where was a way out? How high were they? Shit... how much aluminum did she have left? Checking the coil at her waist, she could only approximate, and just hope. Fuck why hadn't she been keeping fucking track?! Placing one of her guns in her lap, she gripped the aluminum and began to shift it, extending it while adding a hook at one end. The rest became a wire that she prayed was strong enough, attaching one end to her waist. Ok. She was going to fucking pwn this shit.

SHIT. Bullets dug into the brick of the chimney, dust and bits of the blocks going flying. That was no fucking pistol anymore! YO FUCK THIS. WHAT THE FUCK. "That was a warning shot. you're cornered. Toss down your weapons and come out with your hands in the air, and we'll accept your surrender as a P.O.W." Holstering one of her Cutlasses, like hell she'd toss her babies away. No, no she had to stay free. If the fucking law caught her, she'd be fucking done. Who knew how many charges she had scattered across the countries? It didn't matter how many friends she had in places, she could probably still get kicked into the can. FUCK THAT. She was going to fucking LIVE. Thats my girl. Thanks dad. Alisa Donnikova was never cornered. Gripping her modified Beretta 92SF, she exhaled slowly and tucked her feet beneath her, mindful of how tall the chimney was. Thank god Drachman's built taller chimney's. Tossing her hat out to the side, she bolted straight ahead behind that chimney to the edge of the roof, latching the hook onto the edge as she dove off the edge. Bullets whizzed dangerously close, skimming her shoulders despite how low she tried to stick low to remain behind the chimney as much as possible. Fuck, fuck, fuck.... The air blew past her as she plummeted to the ground, the wire she had made going taught about ten feet from the ground. SHIT! It held as it jerked against her waist, growling, "Fuck!" She snapped, the wire breaking as she went tumbling down into the snow.

Pain blinded her for a moment, a moment that could cost her dearly. Her left leg throbbed, she must have landed with more weight upon that leg than the other despite knowing how to land from a fall like that thanks to her fathers training. Gritting her teeth, she groaned as she pushed herself up, flattening herself against the side of the old building while testing out how well she could stand. Fuck that fucking hurt. Drawing out her second pistol, she felt adrenaline pumping so strongly through her veins, breaking into a run as the cold air clawed at her lungs. Where was even safe in this city anymore? Fucking militants were everywhere. Alleyway! Good. Turning down that, she glanced back to see if the rooftop was visible and was relieved to see that it wasn't. Panting, she slowed to a stop, glancing about the narrow street that she found herself in. Where the hell did she go now? A painful throb in her leg. FUCK. And she was out of aluminum at this point unless she found more stuff..... Taking a deep breath, she holstered a pistol and pulled out her pack of smokes and lit up, walking at a brisk pace away from that abandoned building. Fucking drachman chick. Who the fuck was she? Fuck her. Fuck this. God PISS DAMMIT ASS!

BOOM

WHAT THE FUCK WAS WITH THIS GODDAMN WAR?! A military plane collided above her head which drew her gaze, watching as the two planes crashed. Fuck. Where should she go, what should she do? If she didn't look threatening, would they still attack her? Holstering the other pistol as well, she snarled at the pain in her shoulders where those bullets had skimmed her, sighing in utter frustration at this bullshit. Passing by a vodka store, she stopped, glancing around before lowering her sleeve over her hand, punching the glass to unlock the door. Stepping inside, she grabbed a bottle of Vervada Vodka and twisted the cap off, taking a good swig. Wasn't whiskey, but it'd do. Fuck. Wandering out of the store, she glanced back towards that abandoned building, picking up the pace despite the throbbing in her leg, knowing she'd pass by the Kremlin at this rate. Or it'd certainly be down at the other side of the Red Square. She was probably far enough away to be unnoticed.

Voices were up ahead. Ducking against one building, she saw two Amestrian soldiers walking probably on some kind of patrol. Shit..... Taking a deep breath, she waited.. would they keep walking? They were kinda far off. Ah fuck it, she was never good at this shit. Throwing the bottle, the glass smashed into the snow and got their attention, her pistols coming out as she opened fire. Huzzah for the element of surprise. Breaking into a run, she was aiming to incapacitate, not to kill. Their bullets whizzed past, her own making their mark into their hands and legs. Good, down they went. "Any units, we have a woman in a red skirt, brown jacket, and cowboy boots running towards the Red Square." FUCK HER. Running, she didn't even slow down as the cigarette bobbed inbetween her lips, not even caring to look towards the destroyed Kremlin off to her right. God dammit, she just wanted out of this shit!!

[Reila Tsukino]

"She's right, Reila."

"What?" She said mindlessly, spinning around with wide eyes to see Dai right there. ...Dai was right there--the first thing to get through to her since the words of the now prostate homunculus. Just...another monster. She blinked and her eyes became focused, seeing Brigadier General Shula Brighton there as well. What was he talking about? It felt like she was just waking up from a long dream... A dream where she was falling. She felt something rise in her, squeezing her chest until each breath was work. Worms were coiling under the protection of her ribs, tickling her lungs and rupturing her ability to focus on anything but the fact that she was clutching her tachi to the throat of an enemy. Phantoms of memory caressed her mind, whispering in her ear until her grip loosened just slightly as if she were under a spell--bewitched by the sound of another's voice--someone that wasn't Dai. She grew dizzy and swayed to the side, hearing...hearing too much all at once. ”Please don't kill him...let's take him prisoner instead...could be a good bargaining chip to settle this...I'll have someone from South look after him..." Had she...forgotten about the importance of life? Had she...lost herself in this war? When facing the darkness, had she faltered? What...was this murderous feeling--this desire to refuse? Could they not reach her anymore--could she not reach herself? Her fingers weren't responding, her heart was racing...she couldn't catch her breath. No, she couldn't breathe, but the words came...they came with the first frost: beautiful, but so cold...like the sculpture of a frozen ship behind her...reflecting ghostly flames.

"The pride of a nation does not rest in a building; the spirit of the people does not ebb in flames of snow. It takes a lot more than that to win a war. You think RIOTE is our only problem? Our? Where was the our when you went off on your own without orders? Where was the our when you left Briggs for Creta? Where was it then and where is it now? All I see before me is a careless man that does not understand anything. Nothing at all...nothing." She shook her head violently, watching red hair swing back and forth. Turning away from him, she brandished her tachi to the side. Images of Danny bled into her mind--pictures of Xan smiling when he saw her covered in flour after a failed attempt at baking: foreign laughter that had once filled Briggs, a man named Meno who led them into hell and disappeared on the way out, a man named Reaver who didn't quite come across the right way, a cute little boy with a fangy smile--so much. So many of them that she knew. She never was afraid, but... why were they here? Father was dead. So why...why were they still alive? Where was Xan now? Where... was he? She felt tears sting her eyes, but she bit them back, taking a shuddering breath to keep herself from wailing, from lodging her sword into this monster's very soul and feeling as if it were lodged into her own. How did she feel? She didn't know... She just didn't understand why--why Xan meant so much to her--why she wanted him here to tell her no. She wanted to hear him say stop... Stop me, Xan. It was cold when they ran down her cheeks. Why...? Why did she always cry when nothing else came?

Clank. It dropped out of her hands. Fell--fell just like she had out of the sky. Her ship was right over there... The pilot was dead. She couldn't save him in time, but... UFO was intact. It had singed hole through it, but...the ice shield had protected the rest... The rest, but not the life of her pilot. Why did humans die so easily? Whywhywhywhy!? She wanted to see Dai, but she didn't want to turn around. She could hear him talking to Shula, but she wanted to go deaf. Still, she had heard the Aerugese: her language coming out of his mouth as if he thought that would get across to her when all it did was hurt. She heard it and she heard it so clearly, that she swore that she wasn't standing in Drachma. That was Danny there at her feet. She was finally getting revenge for him abandoning her. How many times did she need to get abandoned in her life? How many just...left her behind? Did they know what it felt like? With no one there... Those Drachman rebels could have ended her. No, she would have let them. If that was how it was supposed to be. But she knew she wouldn't have. She thought that, she felt like she wanted to die--wanted it to end and be all over and nothing more, but...she knew she wouldn't let it. She was Tsukino Reila, a Aerugese royal blood, abandoned, abandoned again, and the Head of Fort Briggs. This was her authority; this was her responsibility. All these lives in her hands, weighed before the judgement of a single woman--a single woman that would face the world and laugh.

In a single heartbeat, she found herself in front of Brigadier General Shula Brighton--an Ishvallan that she had just met. She reminded her of Xan just like the homunculus she had almost killed. Xan who was not here--Xan who had not told her to stop. Her voice was so cold is didn't sound like hers; her eyelashes were so cold it felt like they would break off if she blinked. So she didn't. They were gold frozen to the bottom of the river, stuck against a current that screamed to keep going. But he would die. How much more death did she need to cause before the end? When...was the end? Would she die someone in a battle? Would she grow old, start a family, and retire? "You are saying that you would like to take responsibility for a man that can kill you with a flick of his wrist? Do you understand fully what you are saying? They will kill you, but only after crushing everything that you had ever loved. I will take him." She blinked then and it almost hurt. Almost. She wanted to apologize for being harsh--wanted to smile and tell the girl that it would be all alright, but Reila also knew that that would be a lie.

[Csilla Angelis]

Csilla could only groan inside her head. Oh, by Hera. Discussing the sins of the countries at war? And he was being so disdainful towards Reila and Amestris. Yes, Csilla was Cretan but by Hades, she was Amestrian too. She hadn't seen him taking the lead for orders. Instead he was polite until everyone had vanished. And asking if she could fire a weapon? It's not like she was in the military or anything. And not even a “So what can you do?” Vanity, thy name is Dietrich. Csilla nodded silently to Dietrich as he spoke to her, internally surprised at the thoughts running her head. Where had this snippy attitude come from? Then she glanced at the red-headed man who was supposed to help her find a rifle. Ah. That would be the reason behind it all. He was being... what was the right word? Angsty. Yes. She had no idea what had caused him to go from being stern and silent to being so... melodramatic. This was going to be so much fun. Csilla could tell.

She padded quietly behind him and as he reached to open the door of the APC, she squatted down to be closer to the snow. Flicking the button off her gloves, she felt her palm twitch as the cold air swept across it. She could see the light of the moon reflecting off the snow. “I wonder...” She was about to attempt her alchemy when she heard Elastor curtly tell her to take what she needed before slamming the door as he went into the APC. Rolling her eyes know that he had left the scene, she returned to what she had been doing. She concentrated hard on the snow and smiled with satisfaction as the light reflected in the snow seemed to lose it's shine, gathering in her tattooed palm instead. So apparently reflected light was also open to manipulation? This could come in handy. Returning the light to its source, she buttoned her glove back up. She then went to look at the array of weaponry in the APC. She had her pistols on her, but apparently she needed to be better armed? She grabbed another pistol, placing it near the others. She then reached for a small rifle. Stepping away from the APC, she rolled her shoulders. She hadn't held a rifle in quite some time. Everyone in Amestris knew how she disliked the things. Carefully she set the gun against her body, raising it up and looking down the barrel. Yes, it felt a little odd. But she would adjust. With a sigh, she looked up at the night sky, whispering. “Ares, war may be your passion, but it isn't mine. Grant me your strength.”

Csilla got into the APC, grunting a little as she shut the large door. She then entered the second door, letting it shut quietly behind her. The APC was dimly lit but it was sufficient enough to see that Elastor still looked incredibly annoyed. She licked her lips, sitting down. She wanted to ask what was wrong but she also knew that it still wasn't a good time. What had happened between them was a private affair and they were not in a private location by any means. It would have to wait. She leaned her back and closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths. It was about to begin.

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