XING; Jade Palace

[Guest]

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. His phone was buzzing, strangely enough. Hm. Nobody usually bothered to text him these days, in fact the only reason he'd even bothered to get a phone was because of Spade's request. A way to keep in touch, he'd called it. Ace had just thought it unnecessary, to be honest, but had kept that opinion to himself. The boy chuckled lightly now, re-thinking that and deciding that... maybe it was a good idea, after all. With a sigh, he slipped the black bar phone out of his pocket: it was cheap and cheerful, one that nobody would really see the Emperor using, you know? It had a camera option, and it played his favorite mp3s just fine, but it was really just a phone. There were but a few numbers on it, and this one number that he'd seen was, as he'd expected, the number of Spade Aeries, his older brother... the man whose parent's he'd mistakenly killed. No, there was no need to think on that now. Instead, he had to focus on the present, right? Right. Adjusting his glasses and pressing a few buttons, Ace brought up the message with ease. Really, phones were so easy to get a hold of...

It's time to move. Be prepared to leave.

"..." He had to re-read that text a few times, raising his free hand up to scratch his head. His army was small, but they had some interesting tactics, ones that he'd never really tried out on the battlefield before. He sighed softly, and turned to the maids that were standing behind him. He called the more serious-looking one over, and with a slight nod, spoke in quiet and dulcet tones in order to send her off to begin the gathering of the soldiers, "Go and begin rallying the soldiers. We're going to war, for once." He laughed softly, turning towards the more bubbly maid, "You, we're going to need all the support we can get. Bring me Xiao, and then get Peizhi for me. I need to... ask a question of her. Make them both wait in this room until I return." He smiled grimly and turned away from them, beckoning a rather burly man, his stand-in second in command, the man that he trusted with the running of his army smoothly. Ace wasn't a military man, so to have someone like Lao Shi on his side was a given, to be completely honest. That said, the army still directly followed him commands given the need. As the man approached, Saeji had already begun preparing himself, checking to see that the Nanatsuya was on his body. Honestly, he would probably need to change, and he'd do that in a minute. But, for now...

"Sir? Did you say something about going to war?" He nodded slightly, looking at the rather large man for a second, before looking over his shoulder and down the other end of the main throne room, the one that he had... purposefully redone so that it didn't seem as imposing to be walking through. With a few pondering seconds, he thought back to the day that he and Sakuya had met once again, in South City. He had been told about it then, that RIOTE had created their stronghold within the confines of Drachma, or at least they would be going to do it, and he hadn't completely thought it would happen. Well, he thought it would happen, just not so soon. With a sigh, Ace reached up a single hand and wiped the hair off of his face, a cool look emanating through the glasses, his gaze returning the the General.

"Y-yes... We have received word that RIOTE, a terrorist group focused on rooting out Alchemy in the world have taken control of Drachma. My brother has asked for our assistance in this manner."

"B-but sir! That's madness! Our armies couldn't possibly be ready on time, you know..." Ace shook his head. That was a wrong statement to make. Even if they weren't militaristic, the armies of Xing were a powerful and defensive force, best seen on the front lines protecting the armies of others. If they chose to make a charge, their army would always be the one in front, and people were known to fall heavily to their guns. But Ace hadn't reasoned war in a long time, so the people may have been rusty.

"I know, General Lao Shi. However, we do not have the time to consider petty things like that. Go with the maid, and rally the army so they are armed and ready to go within the hour. We want to be on North City soil by midday, at the latest." The General sighed softly, but saluted Ace anyway, bowing low and walking behind the maid.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Sir."

"Oh, I know. It's just like a game of chess, my friend." He laughed coolly, and turned away from them both, walking off towards his own room, one that wasn't too far, and yet not so close. He walked into the bounteous closet, and opened up his drawers that he'd never expected to. Pulling out the black clothing, he walked over to his changing area, dropping his usual uniform and sliding the new clothing over him. Pale flesh was revealed for but a second, the scar on his chest showing for a small time before being hidden by the black battle-clothing once more. On the breast of the clothing, stretching down the torso was Ace's personal crest, and the sleeves were strapped tightly so that they wouldn't flow in the air around him. He slid the sword into it's scabbard, and placed Nanatsuya into it's personal sheathe on his hip. Lace-less shoes went onto feet, and he was ready, walking back to his own throne room with a soft smile crossing his lips, adjusting his glasses once more. He would be in need of his Alkahestry, that much was for certain. But... what of...

Battle... No, you weren't taking over today. Not here, not now. Not when he had a chance to prove himself to Sakuya. With a soft sigh, he brought the phone back out and pulled up the "New Message" section, typing in carefully, a message to Spade that he would not be able to take back. Unknown to him... things weren't going to quite go as he'd planned today. And as his footfalls slowly returned him to the throne room, he couldn't help the foreboding feeling as he walked through the door into the large, ornate room...

I'm on the way, brother.

Ace's Uniform:

[Tsuritsa Cooper]

SOUTH HQ
Inimeg trudged slowly along the ground. She didn’t WANT to do anything, but she felt like she had to. Besides, she had orders to go to South and meet up with General Aires, for a rendezvous with Xing. And as an Amestrian-Xingese Diplomat, and one of the best in her field, she was a wonderful choice. But her mood was not as wonderful as her skill. Nonetheless, she was moving out, headed down to South HQ on an astoundingly determined pace.
At the moment, her clothing was far off from normal. She was wearing combat boots, a pair of camo pants, and a camo jacket, with bulletproof vest. Stitched onto it were her insignia, listing her rank as a Major, and her certification badge, detailing that she was a trained diplomatic negotiator. She had her cane with her, using its weak visual signal to avoid people moving around the city, and trying to figure out where the obstacles were that didn’t show up on her cane’s thermal cam. She eventually made it to the front of the Headquarters. She entered and hunted around until she found Spade, whom she walked towards, slightly waving her hand. As he’d given her no trouble (She’d never met him before, actually), and her new CO had so easily trained respect into her, she even smiled politely. “ Hello General. I’m Inimeg Ty, Amestrian-Xingese negotiator, and former Head of Diplomacy at Briggs. I was sent to come help you out with whatever it is Amestris is getting into. A pleasure to meet you, sir.” Oh how she loathed the formality… Sigh…

[Jay Furor]

Jay stood in the ruins of her former home as she recieved news of the current situation in Drachma whatwith RIOTE and the like. Why was she in the riot-destroyed town of Kanama, you ask? She had gathered up a small army of gangsters, rednecks, and killers, and given them their mission. She tapped the microphone she'd set up on a shoddily built podium, made of a broken one from the remains of Kanama Town hall. She spoke loudly and clearly, her face a bit more serious than normal. She donned her uniform, with her old Team insignia stitched directly to the left shoulderblade of her new uniform jacket. She wielded in one hand the mic, and in the other, her baby, Uno. She addressed the militia,
"Men, I am sure you wonder why you stand here today. Why I would gather you from rebuilding the city, and whatever you were doing. The answer is simple. All of that is unimportant. What IS important is what is going on right now, in Drachma. Loki is dead. RIOTE has infiltrated Drachma, and who's next on their hitlist? Sure bet it's not Carraig people. They want Amestris, and they have to take it with a storm! I daresay no man here will breathe a single breath in a land owned by RIOTE! Who's with me!?"
A massive thunderclapping of cheers and applause followed her short speech. It seemed she was correct- Every man there was applauding, and cheering their support. She smiled, and waved a hand for their attention.
That's what I'm talkin about! Amestrian Pride! Now go, go, go! The copters are all ready for launch, same with the jets! Gear up, and move out! Viv La Amestris!" Grinning she stepped down as the soldiers piled into a small number of aircraft bound for Drachma. Flipping out her cell phone, she dialed Spade. "Sir? Hey, his is Lt. Colonel Jay Furor. Just wanted to tell you I have around 50 minutemen in Kanama, headed to Drachma. We'll see the rest of you there. Over and out." And Jay hung up the phone, and climbed into a plane, at the head of the group. Flight bound for Drachma, the smallest troop in Amestris was ready for go time, and Jay was proud to be the leader of it.

[Guest]

Viktor stood outside of Briggs, on the Drachman side. Part of him felt at home, but another part… Something was off. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. He didn’t know what was going on in Drachma, or why the general had asked him to wait out here, but he figured he would soon find out.

Standing in his old Drachman assault armor, clutching Sasha in his bear hands. He had everything he needed, everything to pay back the general should she need his services. That, he was sure of. And if not, then he would simply try harder next time. But for now, he waited.

“Viktor, now is the time to set out...” Ah, there it was. The signal. His mission. ”I hope for your safety.” He needed to hear no more. He knew what needed to be done. It was… instinct, one might say. Also, a debriefing on the matter couldn’t hurt.

Viktor sighed. It was time, indeed. Time to go into his homeland, and to fight those that were once his brothers and sisters, comrades in arms. But his homeland it was no longer. It was warped by evil men and women, corrupted into something he barely recognized. And it was his job now to lead a group of Amestrians, the very people who were his sworn enemy not even a year ago, for the woman that saved his life.

He’d been in stranger situations.

”Dah, comrade gene- Reila. We shall see you on the other side.”

Turning around towards the group of men and Doctor Nikita, he gave them a somber look. At least the general had the good graces to give them a medic. That’d certainly help them survive. Hopefully.

” And thank you...”

”I am repaying my blood debt to you, good general. I only hope this is payment enough.”

With a wave to the group, he sets off into the Drachman wilderness. It would be a dangerous trek…

[OMGWTF TIME SKIP!]

Viktor crawled his way out of the abandoned – and now collapsed – mineshaft. Was it necessary to blow it up? Probably not. But they took no casualties! Plus, it was always on his list of things to blow up since he was a little child.

But that was besides the point. Although the mineshaft had been a successful shortcut they were still behind schedule. And in the middle of a bad snowstorm. Collapsing that mineshaft started to seem like a bad idea. At least until he started to make out a humanoid figure in the distance. Motioning to the rest of the group to stay still, he slowly snuck up behind the unsuspecting Drachman soldier. Reaching out slowly, he tapped the noticeably smaller man on the shoulder. When he turned around, Viktor punched him outright, sending him flying a couple feet away into the snow. If he was lucky, he would wake up after the battle, with his life. If he was unlucky… Well, he wasn’t about to take sympathy on a soldier in the middle of a war.

Motioning back at the group to follow him, he manages to find his way to a small refueling depot with an idling APC out front. ”We’re taking this,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth showing. ”And I’m driving.” Looking down at Cora, he adds, ”I assure you, doctor, that look is unwarranted. This would be the fastest, and safest, method of getting to Moscow. How else does a wolf move through a flock of sheep than to don its likeness?”

Helping boost everyone up inside, he climbed in himself, familiarizing himself with the controls.

”Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ve assembled these before. And besides, you’re my eleventh field doctor. I’m sure you’ll live.” Shifting it into first gear, he starts to make his way across Drachma. ”Next stop, Moscow!”

[Guest]

It was a cold day in Drachma, but it hardly mattered to the shortest form out of the entire group of men standing behind her rather dear friend and comrade in arms. He was just staring off at the expanse of his homeland before him and she couldn't help but feel... concerned. Was something wrong? Was he ok with doing this? He had to be, clearly his country was mutating into something different than what he had probably grown up with. The wind whipped past them, her gloved hand coming up to brush back a couple of stray dark hairs that buffeted against her face. It had been a bit of a pain to keep with all of their long legs as they trudged across this terrain, but she made up for it. After all, they were going to need her in the eventuality.... Her lips tightened beneath her mask, exhaling slowly which did cause a little visible stream of air to appear in front of her face.

A voice. She could faintly hear Lieutenant General's voice, glancing to the other men that were with them. Well... this was it. It was time. The small doctor stood up a bit straighter as she took a step forward, her petite frame shivering though not from the cold. All would work out. She would see her family again, her sister... Hell, they would all make it out! YEA! POSITIVE MENTALITY! That was the way to go! They would keep their country safe, and kick RIOTE back again. Though, she didn't fully believe that. She just felt it. They would probably be fighting RIOTE for a while as of yet. It was like Batman and the Joker. Those two would always circle each other for as long as the other lived. It was time. Their time. And by god, if they were going to go down in a blaze of glory, they were going to bring some of the enemy with them.

Viktors words offered her some small comfort even if they weren't directed at her, forcing herself to walk next to him as they set off into the wilderness.

[INSERT TIME SKIP HERE]

”Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ve assembled these before. And besides, you’re my eleventh field doctor. I’m sure you’ll live.”

Oh suuuuure, she DEFINITELY wasn't worrying as they crashed through the outer wall that surrounded Moscow. How the hell THAT didn't raise some red flags was beyond her. There was helping people out, and then there was this. Oh well, it just meant that things were about to kick it into high gear. They were the first attack team for a reason. Pulling off a couple of layers, she would still be fine in the cold air of Drachma, just with less obstruction in her way should she need to leap into combat action. "Assembly and driving aren't the same thing Viktor!" This was just.... If they managed to get out alive simply from his driving, she'd be happy.

Glancing to the other men on their team, she could see they held similar thoughts, her dark eyes glancing in the direction of the windows where light still poured in. Taking a deep breath, she felt them lurch down streets this way and that, the seatbels only able to do so much against such an onslaught of force. It was like they were ragdolls in a can of sardines. .... Huh. Now that was a rather interesting mental image-- OHGODTHATWAS....

кремил. The Kremlin. "Privyet... HOLD ON!" She shouted as the APC made contact, crashing into the side of the capital building. But they were in a freaking tank, what did that matter? Apparently more than expected as they were thrown to the side, skidding to a halt and flipping around and around within the first floor of the capital building in Drachma. Yep. They certainly weren't Drachman military. At this point she was so disoriented that it was hard to tell which way was up, her meal prior to this thinking it was a rather tempting idea to come back up. Groaning, she heard everyone elses similar sentiments, only Viktor seeming rather unphased by it all. And that.... Oh. Yea, that was definitely blood on the windshield. She didn't know how many Drachman soldiers they must have taken out, but over the screeching of the tires and the thudding of the rubble, who could have even heard any cries?

Unlatching her seat belt carefully, she almost fell flat onto her stomach, realizing now that all the blood had been going to her head. So they were upside and on an angle.... That... Hrm. And Viktor just popped out with, "We're here!" Shaking her head, she helped the other men down and out of their seats. One went towards the back for the emergency exit hatchy thing (she was bad with specifics and lingo. She was a doctor not a military expert!) Taking that moment, she darted to the front and flicked Viktor in the forehead, chuckling with a rather bright smile as she then headed for the door. She could hear shouting of orders outside their rather dramatic entrance, and she knew that wasn't good.

But gunfire was what greeted them as two of their men opened fire, sending the Drachman militants into confusion. God she wasn't that great at these combat situations. Climbing out as soon as the others had, she cartwheeled away and into some cover, drawing out her two pistols from within her clothes and taking a deep breath. "Welcome to Drachma." She muttered before ducking out of cover to fire a few shots. The war was on now.

[Guest]

The sounds of the vehicles moving around a city had never phased this man, y'know? Even though he had always lived in a place such as this, ever since he could remember, he had never gotten into the idea of silence. So much so, that... he was saddened, to hear the sounds of silence. It was as if everything was gone, there was nothing left. He was alone in here. He closed his eyes briefly, peeking through blinds that dimmed the light of the already-filtered sunlight. With a soft sigh, Apos Rajan stepped away from the window, illumination fading into darkness. He hadn't switched the light on. He preferred it that way, right now. Turning away from the blinds, he took a few slow footsteps through the packed apartment. He'd return here once it was over, be it a few months, or even a year. A sobered chuckle escaped his throat, the man placing a large hand onto the wall and righting himself. His eyes glanced briefly over the bullet-scar on his arm, before he turned back to walk towards the bathroom.

He had come here once he had healed, in order to assist in reparations. He had offered his help to the workers of the North immediately, and been accepted into it without much of a struggle. He felt bad, leaving Spade behind. The man had gone to South City, but he felt that he needed to be up here, to help rebuild. Because that just felt like the right thing to do, before he started his pilgrimage. He'd heard voices behind corners, talking about possible war with Drachma, trying to get the idea of it out of his head. He was trying to leave everything behind. He didn't want to have too many ties left in Amestris before he walked off, or he'd be missed. Not that he didn't want to be... just... it was better this way. He was leaving to wander the desert for months on end. He didn't know how long he'd be gone for, and he didn't know if he'd survive. His bags were packed, and he was ready, but he felt like this was wrong. He wanted... more. He wanted one last fight. The last hurrah of Apos. His footsteps carried him into the bathroom, and he switched on the light. The torso-length mirror revealed the picture of his form.

Muscles rippled across his flesh, with scars from previous fights covering the pale skin. Most of his transmutation tattoos were there already, Apos was preparing himself to create his next Alchemy. They were almost finished, in fact. He'd be able to last longer in the desert with that, it'd increase his chances of survival like nothing else. With another laugh, he reached down to the bench, and picked up the needle that he'd left soaking in a boiling water pot. He grit his teeth, and started to make the needle go back and forth at speed, ink already in place. He lowered it onto the continuation point, and started to grit further, already in pain from the searing needle hitting his skin, drawing blood, mixing with the ink, and finally lowering itself down to rest. He kept this going for a few seconds, holding back the tears from the pain that he was feeling right now, trying his hardest to keep going straight, to keep the feeling from overwhelming his mind. Grunts left his clenched teeth, and he slowly started to reach the conclusion, pulling the needle away with a muffled shout of pain. That was it for today. He didn't need to do any more. Placing the needle back into the water, he turned towards the clothing piled onto the bed. Almost... he reached down to the padded cloth, picking it up and patting it against the bleeding flesh, trying to stop the bleeding as rapidly as he could. Alright, that was good.

"Ugh..." Walking towards the clothing piled onto the bed, Apos picked a few items up and started to dress himself warmly. He slipped garments onto his body, covering up most of the tattoos, and sliding over the muscles as they moved. He smiled to himself and finished dressing, before carefully placing shades on his face and walking out of the apartment room into the hallway, locking it behind him. He would be leaving soon. He would be leaving everything behind him, to gain the knowledge that he needed. The knowledge he needed to help Spade in his life. His blonde hair bobbed up and down as he walked, going down stairs, out the door. Brown eyes looked through black plastic, and he pulled a small box out of his pocket, flicking a single cigarette out of the cardboard and raising it to his lips, pulling it completely out and flicking his Zippo open, the flame lighting up the end of the cigarette. The box and metal lighter returned to his pocket, and out came the cellphone. Apos drew in a single breath, pulled the cigarette out and let out a heavy, smoke-laden sigh.

Pressing a button, the screen lit up in front of him. A cold thumb began to press buttons, bringing up the message screen, and Spade's number was selected. He typed for a second, before thinking it over.

Spade. I'm sorry. See you in a few mo

"Psh. Like he'll ever take that excuse." He laughed a little loudly for normal people, and the blonde man hit the "home" button, exiting the messaging screen, and slipping the phone back into his pocket. It wouldn't have any worth if he didn't do this face-to-face. He would see Spade before he left... and... then... what was this other feeling...?

Was it...

Loneliness?

Sadness?

Regret?

Or...

Was it all three?

[Csilla Angelis]

War. Always with the war. Amestris had barely had a break since... Csilla couldn't even remember. This was ridiculous; Ares was certainly enjoying all this. She had heard the rumors has she had moved to South City to meet up with Spade and the rest of Central. The rumors only got stronger once she got there. And here it was. Confirmation. RIOTE was in Drachma and Amestris was going to do some damage control. Damage control meaning a swift kick in the butt to RIOTE. From what she had gathered, most of Amestris' forces were pouring into Drachma. Swift kick in the butt suddenly appeared to be an understatement, causing Csilla to chuckle to herself. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in one of the few airships Central and South had, doing what she did best. She was reading. For the millionth time in the past few hours, Csilla was reviewing her little black book of defense tactics. Dressed in her military uniform, she was glancing between her book and a map of Moscow. Csilla realized that while this was going to be primarily be an offensive affair (rolling into another country usually implies such things), she knew that she would need some fallback defensive measures, just in case. She was also scoping the ground in the preparations that she would need to lead a small team for something about... darker. Hah, a pun. Csilla laughed. Per usual, she would not mind at all, leading a small team. Any mission could be infinitely better than how the last one ended.

Snapping the book shut, she folded the map and rose, brushing off her pants as she did so. There was no point in continuing her research until she got some orders. First, she had to finish getting ready. She stole off into a small room that had been designated as hers and dug through her backpack. She successfully came up with a tie for her hair, pulling it back tightly. She then dug around again, pulling up one of her favorite things, her thick black gloves. They were something she had bought recently and tweaked to her own uses. She had cut the center of the glove, and then placed a button there. So in order to reach her transmutation circles on her palms, all she had to do was flick the button and the palm of the glove would fall back, rather than taking off the entire glove and letting her hands freeze. She then went over to a chair, checking that her long fur-trimmed blue coat was ready to be slipped on as soon as they touched down in Drachma. Underneath the chair were her thigh high boots, which she would put on under her uniform. Taller boots were required in the snow. Across the desk in front of the chair lay her usual medkit, a dagger and two pistols. Considering the fact that this was a WAR, Csilla still felt she was over-prepared. She was never one to use weapons; her missions usually didn't call for her to shoot anyone. And she was fine with that. Csilla did a quick once-over to make sure she was prepared... OH! "By Zeus... can't forget those." She dove her arm back into her backpack, successfully pulling a pair of "behind the head" white earmuffs. No way she was freezing when they got to Moscow!

Finally content... well, as content as she could be considering the circumstances, Csilla left her quarters. It was time to figure out where Spade was hiding so she could get some orders. As she walked through the airship, she pondered. She knew they were rolling out, and that Spade had contacted West HQ. She suspected that Briggs was already there, if not close. Who else could be coming in to take down RIOTE? Csilla liked to believe that with all of the power rolling towards Drachma, combined with a certain vendetta towards RIOTE, Amestris was going to win the day without help. But she knew it was always better to be safe than... well, dead in this case. The only possible "ally" she could think of at this moment was Creta. And that thought just made her shudder. In any other case, she would've been glad. But not anymore. She dreaded the thought of running into any Cretans... although there was one in particular she feared more than all the others.

Csilla finally found Spade and Shula, smiling faintly to see that her gift of whiskey was nearby. This was the occasion to be drinking, although Csilla rarely, if ever, indulged. She threw a smart salute in Spade's direction. "Looking for some orders, boss. Because jumping out of an airship into a war just isn't my style." She glanced over at Shula with a bright smile, tossing a salute to her as well. "Nothing like a good winter vacation, eh, Shula-boss?" Csilla couldn't help but stay light-hearted. It was her nature and it was the only thing keeping her from going mad with fear at the prospect of upcoming battle. Has she mentioned recently she really dislikes war? Because, by Zeus' thunder, she does.

[Theo Chulainn]

The message had got to him quickly. He hadn't been surprised that there was going to be an attack so soon. He also had received a new uniform. A clean crisp royal blue and gold uniform. According to Alaric his last one had been trashed beyond all repair without making it look like a patch work quilt so a new one was required. For a brief moment he wondered if there was a bunker just filled with new uniforms in central in case there was a bombing or something. But as he pulled on his white shirt he looked to the ring hanging round his neck. A soft smile graced his lips as he knew after this Shula would stay in south and run there HQ. He had taught about putting in a request to transfer to be with her and his family but his brother had told him going back to grunt work would been a waste of the last year, and he couldn't leave Spade behind.

Soon he was clean, shaven hair brushed and trimmed and gauntlets on walking towards the place of meeting. He grabbed his cell phone to wish goodbye to his mother and to tell Wallace to rearrange his shoot and interview with Gentleman's Quarterly. He couldn't help but laugh how he was being classed as the Prince of the Schiwatas family. Instead of most the rich boy his age who spent there weekly allowance partying, getting drunk and picking up chicks. He spent his on research and helping his dearest. He worked as well for the military and the gossip magazines wrote him as some sort of prince charming straight from the Disney films. He briefly wondered how many teenagers bedroom wall’s his posters graced. Maybe he’d drag Spade along to it when it got rearranged for a special men of central shoot. Heck he’d bring Shula just so she could laugh with them at how silly they were.

Walking up toward the Aircraft he grinned as he saw them. Waving as he walked over and soothing his dark blonde hair back in place. “ So…We have a bunch of ass’s to kick” He grinned in true Acra fashion and stood up beside the rest of the group. Ruffling Shula’s hair along the way. “ How’s the new lapels Princess?” Teasing softly he lets his fingers linger a bit longer a silent Stay safe…. passing through his touch to her. He stood tall once more beside Spade. “ By the way…When this mess is over…I’m getting so wasted I hope I go into a coma…” He wasn’t kidding. The last fight had worn him out enough. But now he wanted to do was relax and feel safe for him and his family resting at home.

[Dai]

"Assemble the troops; load the carriers; and prepare yourselves; we're going to Drachma." Ne? He sat up slowly on the bed, rubbing his eyes carefully. The one time that he'd gotten a good night's sleep... To be quite honest, he hadn't been able to sleep for the longest time, you know? Daigoro Ito was an insomniac, so to get some sort of sleep was rather good, at least for him. But now, he was sitting here, awake. It had been Reila's voice that had woken him up. With a soft chuckle, Dai slid off of the bed, bare feet touching ground.

"Dai, come here." Hrn? Her voice crackled through again, but this time at a more... personal level. Strange, really. It had been a while since she'd ordered him to go directly to her. They hadn't been the same, not that he'd expected them to be. Honestly, the fact that he wasn't dead was amazing... on it's own. With a soft sigh, Dai raised a long finger to his ear and pressed down on the sending mechanism, relaying a message through to Reila as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Because it was, it had always been that way for the redheaded Alchemist.

"On my way." He had spoken just three simple words, no coldness in them, nothing forced, and yet they felt, unnatural to the man. Shaking his head to try and get himself out of the stupor that he had placed himself into, he started to walk... wait, no. He turned to the dresser first. He wasn't in uniform. It was bad form, for a military officer to appear in... he looked down.... a singlet and boxers. He laughed softly and made a quick movement towards the dresser, taking the blue Amestrian Uniform, and sliding it over his body to be perfectly sure that he was dressed for this. A 'kuh' noise escaped from his throat, and he finished it off by placing his weapons into their usual spots. Twin Suns, Dual Moons, Earth's Steel. Non-lethal was the way that he went, and the now-blue-clothed man turned towards the door with a grunt, and... hesitated. What would happen, he wondered. He was always wondering, it was in his nature. That wondering had gotten him into trouble, and yet... he could only look forwards from here.

"I made an oath..." Whispers escaped his mouth, the softly-spoken tones flitting into the air as if they no longer meant anything once out of his brain. He sighed, and started to walk, the polished boots taking him to a place that he no longer needed to think about. Instead, thoughts of wonder filled his mind again...

Why are humans like this? The dirt that covers our shoes seems to follow us wherever we go, and yet... it is never cleaned by the rain of time. He laughed at this analogy. That was rather strange. Dirt that covered our shoes. Why did he think of it like this? Hm. Pondering this, he slowly walked towards the room that he knew that Reila would be in. Familiar paths opened up, and a voice that was as sweet as honey, yet as bitter as any poison filled his ears. A bittersweet woman to him, even if she didn't think the same.

"Hello, Dietrich. I've been practicing my Cretan. However, I have grave news. Drachma has fallen to RIOTE and very soon a full-scale takeover will commence. Following the guidelines of the treaty, I am informing you of this. It is not required that you aid us, but Fort Briggs, West Forces, Central Command, and South Troops are setting out now." Hnn? Drachma fell to RIOTE? Strange. Holding back a little bit, he turned away from the door and pulled out a small phone, hitting speed dial number 2 (number 1 was Reila). The phone rang for a couple of seconds, before being picked up. He spoke a few calm words to the woman on the other end ("Nika. Get the men ready to move. I want them armed, ASAP"), before turning back to the door in time to see Reila put the phone down. It appeared that her conversation with the Prime Minister of Creta was over. Hrn. The Prime Minister of Creta, Dietrich. The man who had taken him away from this... but Daigoro garnered no hate. Strange, but that was his mind's folly...

"I've been practicing mine, too. It's always good to be mu-mul... mult... versed in another language." His attempt at saying "multilingual" had failed, but did that surprise him? Yes, as he'd been trying to say it properly for a while now. He simply let a soft laugh enter the room after his words, and switched back to his natural language, "Amestrian will do much better. So, you wanted me, Reila?" He finally stepped into the room, dropping all defenses mentally.

"I'll bite. I heard your conversation with Dietrich... so it's true? Has Drachma...?" He folded his arms and looked over to the side slightly, a little annoyed at that fact. The very fact that RIOTE had somehow gotten past them and into Drachma... it chilled him to the bone. What else were Hild and Aurel capable of?

[Guest]

"Assemble the troops; load the carriers; and prepare yourselves; we're going to Drachma."

...It seemed that it was time for some action. Alex had been up rather early that particular morning reading one of his favorite plays by Shakespeare, but it wasn't as though he was sleep-deprived; The day before he'd been so exhausted that he fell asleep almost the instant his head hit his pillow. Now he was beginning to realize how much that had paid off. People were shoving their heads out of doors, half-dressed and drowsy. They obviously didn't have the luck that Alex did; He was already in uniform, all he needed to do was put on his boots and grab any necessary equipment - namely his transmutation gloves - and leave. Getting off of the bed, he placed the book on his desk, tracing the spine gently. Rosalind and Orlando would just have to wait to have their meeting in the forest until this mess was over.

Alex had changed. Not to the point where he changed completely as a person, but there was definitely something different about him. Ever since the incident with Creta, he realized how serious the effects of such combat could be - he had the scars to prove it. Thinking back, that was the second time he'd lost control, and he only knew because he awoke in a hospital bed, sore from his bullet wounds and without any recollection of what had happened on the battlefield.

Shaking his head, he pushed the memory aside for a moment. This time, things would be different, better. The military alchemist slid into his boots, tapping them to ensure they were on properly. Only a few moments after the announcement over the PA, and the halls were filled with frantic individuals. It was a miracle that Alex was still calm in this particular situation; He knew about RIOTE, as he'd done his homework. After all, as the Head of Military Operations, he needed to know what kind of enemy he'd be facing. Unfortunately, what he DID know wasn't enough to give him insight as to how to approach the situation. Letting out a disheartened sigh, the lieutenant stood back up and grabbed his coat off of its rack, as well as a hand-made scarf given to him by his mother on his last visit. It was checkered in black and white with a small, bright red heart on each end.

Regardless of the information he had, it was clear that they would have to strike fast and HARD. RIOTE was relentless; They were capable of devastating things, as was clear by their murdering of the Czar, Loki. Stuffing his gloves into his coat pocket, he walked over to his bookshelf and scanned the selection for a moment before grabbing one and placing it in the inside pocket of his coat. As he walked toward the door, he stopped short and cast a glance at his bed. On top sat a plush polar bear, which had been aptly named "Snowball" by his mother, who put him in charge of taking care of it. Alex stepped over to the soft toy and lifted it up, pulling it into a hug. Placing it back onto his bed, he stepped into the doorway.

"....Love you, mom," he whispered before heading out into the hall. This time he swore to himself that he would be more useful. Providing advice for offensive approach was simple compared to partaking in actual combat, which is exactly what he planned to do. Straightening his back, he walked confidently to his destination...he planned on paying a visit to the Lt. General before they embarked, just to make sure that everything was in order for departure.

[Guest]

The cold Drachman air was blowing hard against the lone figure standing atop the Kremlin clock tower. Below him only one word described what was going on: chaos. Drachman loyalists continued to fight to the last man against the rebels, who obviously had the upper hand at this point. Most of the Kremlin had been taken by the rebels, and only a few men were left to stand against them. Of course, that was only in this building. All across Moscow, firefights were constantly breaking out between the two forces, sweet victories and bitter defeats on both sides. The loyalists were outnumbered and outmatched, and it wouldn't be long before the superior numbers of the rebels would overwhelm them.

The once known Vincent Alexander could see all of this from his position on the clock tower, watching as the city was bathed in blood and fire. Whether they were truly cleansing was under scrutiny in the council, and many members were unsure of allowing such atrocity to continue. Most of the Clerics were picking sides, and the threat of another war within the Order was looming overhead like a dark cloud, ready to drop down a payload of death and destruction. Though the first Cleric War had been contained within the Order, that had also been 600 years ago. It would be so easy to contain this time, and everyone knew it. Yet still they bickered, knowing the time of reclamation was soon at hand. Everyone knew that the only way for there to be true balance between good and evil, one of them must be expunged forever. The current argument that was splitting the Order was simple; which side should take over, good or evil? Since the Clerics had always walked in the grey, never truly light or dark, there were members who fell more towards one or the other, hence the split. Damos sighed and jumped from his perch, landing on the Kremlin wall with a tremendous thud. A soldier stood in front of him, his expression of fear and confusion all at once. No normal man could survive a jump like, but then again, Damos was no normal man. "Rest in peace," the Paladin mumbled as he severed the man's head from his shoulders, his face forever filled with horror.

Damos walked to the edge of the wall and looked over, seeing more fighting below. Suddenly the fighting stopped however, as the soldiers were all scattering and staring south. The Grey Knight looked over to see a Drachman APC come flying towards the wall, crashing in and rolling inside the building. Damos shook his head and turned around, making his way down the length of the wall. "Well those Amestrians sure know how to make an entrance," he said with a grin. He'd always admired the courage and strength of the Amestrian people, especially after the recent actions of RIOTE. The knight stopped for a moment and looked at the sky. It was so dark, the clouds releasing a relentless torrent of snow. Not to mention the harsh and bitter wind, both of which making this place extremely cold. Why anyone would want to live here, let alone fight and die here made no sense to Damos, but he shrugged and continued walking, finding a set of stairs down to the ground level. He had to dispatch some rebels at the bottom of the steps, but they didn't stand a chance against the steel-like resolve and skill of the Paladin.

He looked at their dead bodies, their blood spilling into the white snow, darkening it to a deep red. How much blood had been spilled that day? Surely enough to stain this entire city in red, if not more. It was a shame that so much life had to be wasted to fulfill the will of God, but such is the ways of fate. He turned and made his way to the primary offices, namely the one of the ex-Czar, Loki. Damos knew what he'd find there, the single thing he'd been sent there for. Vincent, that was the name he had taken when he first was sent by the Cleric Order to look into the activities of Aurel and Hild. Sadly, he hadn't gotten close enough, nor had enough time, to stop the events but a month ago. That, had not been according to plan. Thus, Damos, the youngest Paladin of the Cleric's and their most promising warrior, had been sent to give the leaders of RIOTE a little message. Damos walked up the stairs to the office, killing several men who dared to stand in his way. When he finally reached his destination, only a single guard remained in his way. The knight, who had been helmet less this entire time, gave the man before him a dark and foreboding look. "Do you fear death?" he said, looking into his eyes. Though the man shook slightly, he stood bravely before the man in armor, gathered his resolve, and pointed his pistol at Damos. "I fear no man," he replied. Damos smiled and clasped the pistol with his arm; the customary greeting between a Knight of the Cleric Court and a Specter, the "KGB" of the Clerics. "It is good to see you Noren," Damos said as he pulled his arm back. He then turned to the door to the office and continued, "Are they in there?" Noren grinned and nodded. "Yep, just waiting for you," he said, chuckling afterwards. "Good luck brother," he finished, doing the Cleric salute and walking away, heading the rendezvous point. Damos bowed his head in respect and returned the salute. The Paladin turned to the door, pulling the halberd on his back off. Checking the ammo on his arm gun, he smiled and opened the door, walking through as if he owned the place. He looked straight into Aurels eyes, and with a definitive voice he said "Hello there, Chaos..."

[Guest]

A sweetness arose so vivid, so potent, it can almost be tasted. Non-existent. It was all to it. A beloved feeling not felt for a length of time that stretches across at leagues. One not felt ever since Xing. The alluring song that reaches out only to those of great lust and desire for what they want, and what is wanted is not something the faintest of hearts and the weakest of men want, it is whom prowl in darkness that darkness dwells in their hearts crave for -- war. An end? A beginning? There is no concern for those that follow the dark siren's call, for those that hear it, listen, and those that listen, march. From the stag of steel mount rode the Scion of Infernal Carnage. He reeked of glee, a kindling of spirit which died down in the previous war with Creta. Confined within the bowels of the steel stag, the wagon truck, was none other than a Colonel; Nikolaus Stuka.

Pestilence will become of this world as the ever hopeful rays of the sunlight were blotted out by clouds of dim grey. Blanketed and spanned across for long stretches to which saw no end at the horizon. A hopeful sight to the Colonel to which was followed by a trail of trucks dragging with them artillery. And a particular one airlifted ahead of huge bore. All the cannons were relics of the past, smoothed out by alchemists, and made for working condition. Leftovers of a previous war, leftovers of the Coup D'etat instigated by Roy Mustang of the past. A particular figure of contemptuous light to the now Colonel Stuka. For he had waged war against Father, a truth he kept to himself.

An opportunity was not lost upon the blond, for he had investigated his effects. Making sure his equipment was there, shuffling his distinctive grenade, one from three, to his bomber jacket. Pocketing it within. The rest were at his belt. He pulled back the glove of black he wore, checked the rest of his weapons in his arsenal.

His flamethrower hinged unto the inner back of the jacket, the knives worn in straps above the knees opposite from one another, occupying their own legs. Saber worn around his belt within a scabbard. SMG within the confines of the holster above his knives. Sniper rifle, along with bow and arrow, carried by an attendant. Inventory of war gear were in order, and to be accounted for.

A certain air of ignorance is about the Colonel of war, for he had not heard or been given the news of what happened to Kallie. A girl whom was adopted as a daughter, albeit neglected and barely minded. One whom Nikolaus hadn't established how he feels about his relationship to her, and one, whom aptly put, is taken for granted. Hints of affection not apparent within their dealings. Such was the two, that's what it took for her to be fathered by Nikolaus. A man that takes lives, the only thing he is good at, the best thing he is at. A contradiction for the creed he has professed under that of which is Ishvallan. For what he read as not to kill, he kills. A paradox in itself as it is his nature, yet... he finds the texts fascinating to behold. Perhaps a better time would be spent seeing the Brighton.

Such is the case, for he was to mobilize to Briggs. Central will be under control... for a while, without his supervision. Security was that afforded by brutality and judgement rendered unto the guilty on the spot. Order made from the swiftness of justice, under the minor initiative of... evil. Semantic nonsense.

The siren's call had allured others as well to follow those that wear the black uniform of war than the tempering hand of blues. Conscripts were gathered, penal battalion, all condemned to die yet alleviated at the convenience of war. All in the black of the security uniform. All murderers, one way or the other... yet some were volunteers -- those that joined for the scent of war, the fragrance that drew them in like bloodhounds to prey. Evenly spread out with a token minority that which are not convicts. Experienced men. A sparse paltry sum whilst the rest are left at Central.

One that is Homunculus is spurred by the call of war, Envy, as well as the skilled enthusiast of murder, Alchemist Ayden. Both volunteers to the cause as to accompany Nikolaus on his vehicle commandeered by said attendant. Back was where they would be seated as Briggs was to be the destination that soon drew forth from the horizon. Larger and larger as distance was closed, yet they were not there... yet. Three of them as the rest of the army accompanied behind in their own steel stags. Trucks that advance through the cleared snow. They are expected.

"Lives will whittle away like flowery petals this tide, and so the stage will draw curtains soon." He grins, the truck halts at the gateway of Briggs, "Actors! Assume positions, we are expected to perform our part soon in this comedy. I expect to watch my audience go out with a BANG!"

That was all to be said, the infernal gates of Hell, which appropriately is cold, opens. Trucks drive within the light as Nikolaus himself dismounts with his force of artillerymen.

He has come, he has done his job of arriving... now all it is to do is to take up roles, as there is nothing more to it than to do what is given. A job to do splendidly. A job to do to the T, or perhaps to the O. Hard to guess which is the more desirable!

[Guest]

Isabella tightened her grip on the soldier’s neck, alchemic sparks flying around his neck. This woman… She had asked too many questions. Infiltration in Drachma was bad enough, and being questioned just made the situation worse. But… She did something she wasn’t supposed to do. Not to her.

”Be glad this is a quick death for you,” she says to the soldier, as the woman’s eyes roll into the back of her head. She could only imagine what she was experiencing right now… Wait, was that it?

Yes, yes it was.

Continuing for a few more seconds, she quickly releases her grip on the woman’s neck. Looking down at the woman’s drained body, she ponders for a few moments on how to handle the situation. Instinctively flexing the fingers on her right hand, she unslings her right arm, gritting her teeth as the full weight of the automail tugs on her... Torso? It was such a strange sensation… Shaking her head, she grabs the dead woman by the arms, and starts dragging her further down the dark alleyway. She needed to be more incognito for today, apparently…

[Time skip after totally pulling an Agent 47]

Leaving the alleyway again, Isabella straightened out her new uniform. Either the soldier and her had similar measurements, or she just completely lucked out… In either case, she now sported the garb of a Drachman foot soldier, complete with an AKS-74u. Durable, reliable, and slightly smaller than the original AK-47. If only she knew how to shoot a rifle properly…

But that wasn’t the point of this. This was to move about a little more unhindered, possibly blend in a bit more. But as she watched an APC drive somewhat erratically down the street towards the Kremlin, she couldn’t help but think that the war would be starting sooner than expected.

[Spotlight]

Alex walked through the hotel and got his mail from the manager. Flipping through the mail he got to a military letter. The stamp of Amestris was on it and he could tell this was serious. Taking it to his room he read through the contents of the letter it contained a letter and a light overview of his mission. It also stated he was allowed to bring a team with him limited to four people he had just the people in mind. Taking out his Iphone he began to scroll through his contacts finding who he was looking for he sent two messages to Slink and tiny informing them of the mission he wanted them to join him on. He also told them to join him at Kanama if they were interested. Texting jay He then got the text out and it read as such.
“Hey Jay I want you to accompany me on a mission I got hazard pay and such. Though you have to get some special things for it so ill meet you in Kanama in an hour after I pick up some stuff for this mission”
An old family member would help him out. Taking his motorcycle out of the garage he started it the purr of the motor calming him. He hadn’t talked to Julio since he went into the military academy. Julio was a underground alchemist using his knowledge to make fake papers and hack into computer systems to insert them into systems. He was now going to help Amestris out instead of the underground. Taking his time on the turn he came up to Julio’s headquarters. Finding the kid in the corner smoking some purple haze he kicked the kid who tried to knife him. Alex lifted his leg and kicked him in the jaw lightly. That knocked some sense into him and he told him he had a job for him. Getting him on the bike he drove to the air port. He took a jump jet to Kanama and left to meet jay as Julio started hacking to insert documents for he and jay. Inserting the document of Alex and jay he began to make some records in any training camp they needed to get in a good numerous amount of them. Then came the real trouble commandeering a Drachman uniform for each of them. Julio was the best at this shit Alex just hoped it would be enough.

[Guest]

Tick, tick, tick, tick, the rhythmic beat of the plain analog clock was the only sound that filled the room, the only indication that time was even passing by for Sergeant Veronika Alkaev, as she lied in her bed, atop of clean and crisp white sheets. Her room was a blank slate, clean and empty, perhaps symbolic of her new start as a soldier of Briggs. A few cardboard boxes lay off to the side, filled with the things that had belonged to her and were taken when she and Lt. Colonel Ito had been branded traitors. Now that her name was cleared, they were returned to her and she was given permission to return to her position, rank, and living quarters. Everything was back to normal....or at least, that could have been said if were true. Nikita, the guise she had adopted to hide the fact she was a woman for her own reasons, was no more. It was partially due to her own choice, with some influence from Jericho and her time spent in Creta. When she returned, after all the necessary procedures for returning to the military that she had never meant to leave, she filed for a few amendments to be made to her personal profile, mainly her sex and name. No longer was she Nikita Alkaev, the man without a past, the perfect soldier, with nothing but the military in his life. She was, once again, Veronika Alkaev, the poor, timid girl from a poor, dysfunctional family, from a poor, shitty part of North, who had joined the military to escape her disgust with herself. It was a bitter pill to swallow, accepting her own past, but to her surprise, not much had changed for her. She was still Nika, just a she, not a he, and nobody treated her any differently. In fact, before she had left, the only person whom she had ever really interacted with was Ito, all else were subjected to a cold, professional disposition. So even though she showered in the women's showers, used the women's restrooms, and made less of an effort to hide her feminine characteristics, everything was essentially the same. She still spent most of her time in the firing range or the armory, she still did all her work just the same, she still walked around with a modified military issue trench coat in the freezing cold weather. Maybe it was because she had distanced herself so much from everyone else, that hardly anything was said, and that nothing had changed. Maybe this was a chance to try again....Cross told her that, that she would do well to quit locking herself up in self-imposed solitude. Maybe he was right....

"Assemble the troops; load the carriers; and prepare yourselves; we're going to Drachma."

Reila's voice broke the stagnant silence, and Nika staring contest with the ceiling. She shot up with a start, looking around in a bit of a daze as the sound of boots scrambling against steel echoed in the hallway outside. They were going to Drachma? What for? Certainly not for war....they couldn't go to another war, not after what had happened, not in the state that Amestris was in. Besides, they had a pact of non-aggression with the Czar. Maybe they needed assistance with something. There was a lot of talk about rebellion spreading across Drachma like wildfire lately.

Yet, as Nika decided, it was bet not to question anything for now, it was not her place to do so, and she would be briefed soon enough anyway. It wasn't like she held any sentiments for that country anyway, it was only the place of her parents' birth, nothing more. Casting all else aside, Nika set to suiting up, rushing to outfit herself with her coat, gloves, boots, and so forth. She was halfway through lacing her combat boots up when her cheap little cellphone went off with an annoying little jingle. Knowing full and well that only a few important people ever contacted her through her neglected phone, she hastily swiped it off the table and lifted it to her ear, holding it in place with a raised shoulder, so that she could speak while finishing her boot laces. "Nika. Get the men ready to move. I want them armed, ASAP". Simple, sweet and to the point. That made things easy. She always appreciated that. "Roger" she replied as she stood up straight, finally outfitted in all her essential garb. The 'end call' button was pressed, the phone was shoved hastily in a coat pocket, and Nika was out the door without a second thought, rushing to get to the armory, where the members of Ito's personal squad should have been waiting.

And just as they should have, they were all there, some still fussing with their uniform and equipment, the others speaking to one another in hushed voices, likely questioning the sudden mission laid out before them. They were all weary, they hadn't had the easiest of time with the last war, considering their commanding officer, along with their squad captain, had 'defected'. Her form and movements stiff and straight, she approached them with the air and presence expected of her, as a leader of her fellow soldiers. This was what she was best at, this was what she strived for, to be a soldier who represented the pinnacle of conduct and excellence. The last battle as tarnished that goal. This time, she would more than make up for it, she would allow herself to make a single mistake.

"Alright men" she began, her voice loud enough to exude her place as captain, but leveled enough to project a certain calmness. "You know the drill. Finish suiting up, standard weaponry, cold weather equipment. Pick up the pace, we need to be down with the rest of Briggs ASAP, we'll meet with the commander and receive our mission briefing afterwards. Move, move"

The soldiers began to shuffle about at a brisker pace now, grabbing their weapons and performing their routine checks, lest they want their assault rifle malfunctioning in the field. Nika herself made her way over to her personal weapons cache and quickly equipped herself with everything she needed. Two matching FN Five Sevens, holstered securely at both sides of her hips, a Heckler & Koch HK416, selective fire assault rifle, strapped securely to her back, and her reliable combat knife, sheathed by her thigh. As soon as everything was firmly secure, Nika, along with the rest of Lt. Colonel Ito's small team, exited the armory and quickly navigated themselves to where the rest of the troops were gathering. They were all tense, stiff with the feeling of the inevitable conflict that they were going to be drawn into.

[Guest]

This mission made part of Takumi wish that he had a chance to dabble in the learnings of the Drachma language before partaking in a war with said speakers. He twiddled his thumbs as he stared blankly at the information swirling around on his monitor in code. The specifics weren't exactly released to his fellow militants as of yet, however, he knew. Oh yes, he knew. A sly smirk ran its grainy fingers across his lips and he stood up from the chair in his quarters and looked out the small window that revealed only clouds below. They had to be somewhere over Central by now, heading into North City to dock before boarding another more 'stealthy' aircraft at Briggs that could stand up the freezing temperatures. He sighed and knotted his fingers in black hair. Staring at it, the strands flitted from black to brown and back again by his own tapping of the Dragon's Pulse. He turned from the window and faced the door with a dull expression. The problem with not disappearing come battle time was that if Jet Black saw him in Shula's troops, he may or may not be recognized. He would have to run in between groupings. ...What a pain in the ass. Sometimes taking on two jobs seemed like a bad idea, but other times...he felt like a worldly genius.

RIOTE intrigued him. He had never met any of their members, but he knew Takatori well through informational networks. He had a hard time gauging any of those now considered the enemy so his judgement would have to come later. Lazy red eyes trailed along the ground as he walk, slumped over as if he were still sitting in front of his computer. And he left it one like there...just sitting there in his room. Anyone could walk by and look at it, but is someone bothered to, all they would see would be a mishmash of various numerical values that meant nothing to anyone save for himself. The wonders of his code. He let a smile show, practicing maybe for the company of fellow humans. And in all of his remembered life, Takumi never felt like one of them.

"Hello friends," he stated monotonously, looking around the main room at Shula, Spade, a man named Acra, and some blond girl he had never seen in any of the files. He raised an eyebrow, inwardly pouting at his own lack of information. He met everyone's eyes before continuing. "I believe everyone is fidgeting for facts. I cannot tell them anything as you have not given orders, m'am, sir..." Inquisitive eyes shifted from Shula (his boss) to Spade. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, waiting...too long.

[Guest]

Two silent fingers gestured for the four men nearest to her to move forward, their rifles poised and ready to fire. The newly promoted captain exhaled slowly as she tightened her grip upon the L98A2 rifle, one hand gloved while the other remained free. Her eyes scanned the men and women around her, the four before her done laying their charges. Men and women whom she had gotten to know before they had been sent off to this new war. Men and women that she wouldn't fail. Not like before. She had to push forward. "Charges set." One of the men murmured into their com as they took cover. Signaling for the rest of her squad to move, they continued forward until they were a safe distance away. The fact the streets were somewhat deserted was of some concern.

But good for them. She didn't want to spill innocent blood unless absolutely necessary. "Let's kick off the beat." Her voice was low, all of them standing ready in their positions as waited. Click went the trigger, boom went the building. The heat could be felt upon their backs as they shot forward with bullets firing, tearing through the Drachman militants that came running. Two teams of three separated and snuck around the block to get ahead, effectively separating their white clad counterparts. Cries rendered the air as the Cretan's bullets found their marks, moving forward once the way was clear.

They were advancing at a rather excellent rate, causing quite the distraction which was exactly what was wanted and needed. Their forces might not be as numerous as Amestris or Xing (at least she guessed they'd be involved), but they would sting just as hard. As their foes now lay dead or incapacitated in the snow, Vivian glanced to her men and signaled for them to move forward. "Move out!" She barked, any sense of her feminine side gone. She was a soldier now, through and through. The squad of ten, eleven including her, nodded and acted. Their goal; reach the Kremlin. Cause as much of a stir along the way as possible while ensuring minimal casualties on their side.

Coming up to a row of Drachman militants, they all ducked around the corners of buildings as their rifles rang out. Ta-ta-tat! Grimacing, her team didn't really need to be told how to react, darting out of cover to return fire. Though she had something else in mind. Crouching down, her leather clad hand touched the snow at her feet, Jackson offering cover fire for her. It sounded as if there were fewer. And yet..... Some were arriving. Good, it meant they had Drachma's attention. Grimacing, she slipped her other hand into her clothes and touched the pendant on her necklace, the strap of her rifle keeping it close to her body. It was a good thing she had expanded her alchemy into heat, effectively melting the snow into water. Now she was in business. A bullet whizzed close to her ear, growling as her hands found her rifle and fired. The man grunted and fell over, Jackson continuing to provide cover fire. One of her men was down, wounded in his leg. Dammit all!

Her ungloved hand splashed into the water at her feet gathered it up into an elongated tentacle of sorts. "Grasping" it between her fingers, she flicked it towards the nearest Drachman, splashing his face with the end of it. He merely laughed. He wouldn't be shortly. Her gloved hand came around as she switched her "grip" the stream of water quickly reaching a scalding temperature. His scream was rather satisfying she had to admit. The whole thing took all of a moment or so, ducking down and rolling as more gunfire rang out by where she had been. Well, she was out of cover now. Might as well move.

Two of her men threw grenades, the young captain pushing herself up and running. Keep moving, don't stop. Fewer Drachman's were near them now which was good for her as she held her rifle once more. Two more thuds, then three as the rest were taken down. The other alchemist on their team was aiding Richards with his wound, the rest pushing forward. Vivian slowed up just to make sure all was well before they continued onward. She hoped Dietrich was fine, though Elastor was with him.

Dietrich.... Her lips tightened as they continued towards the goal, her muscle memory taking over as part of her mind wondered about her King. After meeting Aren, all sorts of questions had risen up in her mind though she usually pushed them aside. After all, it didn't do to question the man in charge whose chambers you normally guarded. No, no she couldn't think like this here, it would cost her! Stupid! Another explosion from charges they set, more gunfire ringing out in the air. This was war, she could debate such difficult things once there was time.

[Guest]

Krrzch, krrzch.... The girl in the red-and-white battle-suit raised a hand up to her ear, closing her eyes and pressing the receiver button on the ear as it crackled to life. She smiled softly, and spoke with quiet, dulcet tones in the darkness.

"Go ahead, Joker." The voice crackled behind the radio, speaking into her ear. The confines of the ship's small room surrounded her, enough to make most people claustrophobic. But she liked it in here. Even though she was one with the moon, she was always appreciative of the small room in here. She smiled to herself, and pushed her way out of the room and into the main hall of her ship, the Normandy. She stretched, and cricked her neck, platinum blonde locks falling around her softly-lined face. Red eyes blinked a couple of times, and she checked over her body with a chuckle. That was it. The buzzing voice spoke some more words into her ear, and she nodded internally. Joker was good. He was the best pilot she'd ever had, and would always be the one that she chose. The guy was a cripple, had bones that would shatter with the slightest bad force, and because of that, all he could do was pilot. She loved that, and he knew that. Guy was a bit of a smart-ass though, not that she minded... With a small laugh, Deirge walked into the main war room of the Normandy with a small smirk on her face. There were only a couple of people newly-integrated into the Cretan Spectre program, and as she was the first, she was codenamed as their Commander, Shepard. The only other member in the room was named Rebecca Wong, codenamed Tali Zorah.

"We move out soon, Tali." She nodded at the other woman, before turning away and sighing softly, taking a seat on the table and looking down the hallway in front of her. The Normandy. An experimental-class frigate aircraft, one of Creta's greatest advancements into the field of personnel aircraft. "I wonder... this is our first mission together, isn't it? As Spectres, I mean..." She turned briefly towards the violet-haired woman, smiling softly as her red eyes dimmed a little. She chuckled and held out her hands, the Magus of Alchemy staring with a calm expression at her transmutation circles. They were strange circles; only a little bit was truly needed for her Alchemy, the rest was surplus, or at least most would think that. In Deirge's opinion, every little bit of this circle counted to her. She chuckled and stood up off the table, taking a couple of tentative steps forwards and placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, before hearing the sounds of Joker's voice crackling in her ear again. They were there, and they were about fifty feet off ground. According to Joker, if they went any lower, they'd be hit with enough radar to see the details of a fly on a wall. She sighed softly, knowing that they'd have to take the scenic route to the ground. She sighed again, and looked over at Tali, giving her a small laugh.

"Wishing you luck, Tali~ It appears that our way is down from here. Joker can't take us any lower." She nodded briefly at her fellow Spectre, and turned to walk towards the door, opening it up and recoiling a bit from the sudden inrush of air. She grabbed a bag and put it onto her back, looking out over the icy distance. Pulling her own red helmet off the shelf, she pushed it over her head as it hissed, denoting that the pressure was equal.

Cue rock music. Her lips twisted into a grin as she pushed off the metal of the Normandy, falling through the air as she went, hearing the sound of the wind whipping past her face. This wasn't her first jump, but it was certainly her first when it came to this height, and this jump was certainly exhilarating to the young Spectre. The air rushed past her suit, and she twisted and turned in mid-air, readying herself to land with the parachute. Pulling the cord, she was whipped up backwards for a second and then floating down to the snowy ground, considering the job that they had. Sadly, it would involve the death of innocents, something that she really didn't wish to do. But, it was her order by Dietrich's hand, and she would therefore follow it, simply minimizing the casualties where she could. The girl finally landed on the ground, and let the parachute fly away behind her. It was white, so it would be hidden in the snow. She smiled and reached up to the helmet, pulling it off with a metallic hiss and breathing in the cold air. Ah, this place was nice. Cold, but nice. It seemed that most people had made the trek to Moscow, too. Strange, but good. It meant that casualties would be reduced greatly. She sighed softly, and stepped forwards, looking through the ghost-like town with a smirk. This place... would sadly be destroyed to save the greater good. If she could move their main focus to this city, then it meant that they could pull the army away while Amestris and Creta focussed on the main branch; it would be good if they could pull some of the shit off of them...

Finding a good building, Deirge stepped backwards and placed her back against it, planting the palm of her right hand onto the cold concrete, closing her eyes and sighing softly. It was the job of the Spectres to be able to do this sort of thing, right? Right. After steeling her resolve, Deirge opened her eyes and started to focus the energy of her Alchemy, a glow going around her hand and slowly starting to spread out as she began her chant.

"I hold the key to the treasures of the King.
Open up for me, and I will grant you life.
My treasures, though powerful, are expendable.
Give them the strength needed.
See this through to the end."

The golden glow changed to a red, and a circle spread out behind her. She lowered her gaze, and smirked. Let it begin.

"Gate of Babylon." The material began to transmute, and several blades pointed forwards, and were given the kinetic energy needed to push themselves forwards, firing rapidly towards another building, crashing against the front wall. Cause enough destruction, cause enough of a distraction, draw the fire of the army. The very fact that this city supplied a lot of military techs would make life easier, that was for sure. She smirked as the fire continued, and Deirege waited for the sounds of approaching militants...

Spoiler:

PEOPLE, REMEMBER TO PUT YOUR LOCATION IN THE TITLE OF YOUR POST

[Envy]

(Because there Envy doesn't really doesn't officially fit any of categories mentioned, I think I just post now)

Envy should have been excited. He was heading towards North, towards new bloodshed. And he was going to be directly involved. Although he had to use an alias and some actual weapons. At least when there were soldiers looking. His current form belonged to Major Eldritch Sherman from security department. Wearing a cap that was able to shadow his blue eyes a little, which were also covered partly by his blonde hair. His mouth was covered by a high collar of his uniform. It was otherwise pretty standard, blue Amestrian uniform.. His face looked like was looking a bit angry. He looked like a person who seemed to be pissed off by anything. But that was not the case. He wasn't pissed off by everything, but only one thing. And that thing was sitting in the very same car.

It was that piece of filth that had caused some severe annoyance due physical injuries. And he still didn't knew his name, as Nikolaus didn't seem to use it while referring to that person. Granted that the name he was introduced was fake, but only if that person knew about it. This was still a problem. Envy's mindset had been set on two things. First thing one this event. Second thing was to think of the ideal way to annihilate this man and then execute it. The problem was that fulfilling the second one could ruin the first one. And on the other hand, if Envy would have to just work along with this man, it would do harm to his concentration.

Nikolaus was getting all poetry-stylish as they finally arrived to Briggs. Someone had to be. Envy simply nodded his head into his general direction. He exited the vehicle as Nikolaus did. He also made sure that none of his equipment had dropped off. Pistol on belt, check. Two grenades on belt, check. Submachine gun on his belt, check. And a combat knife on his already stuffed belt, check. Envy didn't need none of that, but he had to use them for now. He didn't want to reveal his affinities of being an Eldritch Abomination, as some people would call it. He simply stood there, still having that bit of wrath as his facial expression, and waited for possible further information and/or actions.

(Ok, I'm not entirely sure if Nikolaus did exit the vehicle. But I assume he did. If he did not, just void the part where I exit)

[Elastor Ito]

War again. Ela wasn't exactly sure how he felt when he got the phone call...indifferent maybe? He stared at his hands in his seat beside the king, wondering why he deserved such an honor. The calluses were getting thicker, people were expecting more and more from him, he was becoming...known--blending in was becoming a challenge--his greatest feat yet. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he looked up through strands of red to see the neat interior of the ACP set out before them. He took a sideways glance at Dietrich, hoping upon hope that they wouldn't be spotted this far outside of the capital. With so few men, it was hard to confirm whether or not protecting the King could be completed efficiently and without error. It was a difficult task--almost too difficult for his unworthy self--unworthy even in the face of a half-Amestrian girl.

She left crying. The slamming door still echoed in his mind: the last company he had for nearly a month. The silence that followed had been unbearable, eating at his mind until he had to get out or risk losing it. The silence now was invaded by the rough turning of wheels and whispers between a few others on lookout through the windows. Guns blazed, and the sky was full of intrusion--almost sinking in on itself and dripping down to earth like so much snow. Listless blue eyes stared at the white sky, darkening and darkening further to black. Black and white...the world had become opposite. He stifled a scoff and dragged his eyes away from the hours that passed and looked again at the man he was protecting. Fingers traced the grooves in his hilt, almost itching for something to happen, but still hoping it wouldn't. So much time had swung by and fate had allowed them to live this far...he would not question it with feeble hope. It was only a matter of time before they met up with the Amestrian leaders to delve into the issues at hand. That is...if those barbarians would shed some time to talk rather than coloring the snow a foul shade. Only more time would tell.

[Xiao Yu]

Xiao was running late and he knew it. He should have left 5 minutes ago for the Jade Palace. He had no reason not to be late either. He was fully dressed in his Imperial Guard uniform, his hookpak resting by the door. Next to the hookpak was a duffel bag he had packed up last night. While Xiao had been standing guard over Ace the past few days, he had heard murmurs of a possible war with Drachma. And if there was war, that meant Ace would go into battle. Which meant that Xiao would follow him. So last night he had packed a bag with a long, heavy trench coat, black leather gloves and a black skull cap. Drachma was cold, from the research he had done. At the bottom of the bag he had his pouch of ammunition for his hookpak, as well as several daggers. As a last resort, he had a basic pistol. He wasn't fond of guns, but one never knew what one would need in a war. He planned on leaving the bag at the palace so he was ready to leave at a moment's notice. Leave. That's what he was supposed to be doing. Shit. So why hadn't he? Oh, right. That would be why.

The tall man scooped up the gurgling boy in his arms with a smile and a laugh. “Why is it you make me late all the time, Zao? Don't you know I have an emperor to guard?” The boy blinked up at his father, gurgling again. Xiao spun in a circle, humming a soft tune to his son. He could see Nanny Qiu from the entrance to the kitchen, smiling fondly. When she caught him looking, she frowned, pointing dramatically at the watch on her wrist. Xiao sighed, hugging his son close to him. “Yes, I know. I know.” He walked over towards Nanny Qiu, bouncing his son lightly as he did so. “There's always a chance that if we have to leave, I won't be able to come home.” He had told Nanny Qiu last night as he packed about the possibility of the army moving out. Squeezing his son close to him again, he softly sung to Zao, “Daddy has to leave right now, and he's not sure when he'll be back again. But know he loves you very much and will see you soon. For now be good for Nanny Qiu and remember, Mommy and I are watching over you.” He handed off his son to Nanny Qiu, giving her a quick hug in farewell. Rushing to the door, he stooped to grab the duffel bag, throwing the strap over one shoulder. The hookpak in his other arm, he turned back for another wave and was out the door.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Xiao started running. His feet hit the pavement hard as he made it to the Jade Palace in record time. Luckily he was close enough that it wasn't too bad of a run. He kept running however, past the guards at the gates and into the palace. He was heading for the guard room when he heard his name being called. He skidded to a stop, turning to see a bubbly pink-haired maid waving at him. “Xiao, Xiao! The Emperor wishes for you to report to the throne room, immediately!"

Xiao nodded to her and began jogging in a different direction. He loved his job but WHY did the Palace have to be so big. He arrived at the throne room slightly out of breath. He noticed for the moment it was empty and so calmly walked from the door over to his usual stance near the throne. He set his duffel bag to one side, noting that he could drop it off later. He ran a hand through his hair and then began to check his hookpak, as he always did. Ah, still in top shape. Of course. He stood at attention as he saw Ace move into the throne, dressed for battle. He swept a low bow as etiquette demanded. Rising, he waited for Ace to move closer before speaking. “You asked for me?” He knew Ace wasn't fond of formality, but it was a rarity that Xiao ever called the Emperor by name. His rigid training forbade it and despite Ace's changes to the Xingese throne, Xiao was still having trouble adjusting.

[Guest]

Tkh-tkh-tkh-tkh-tkh... The constant sound of typing clicked softly throughout the main war room of the Normandy. The computer screen cast a faint glow upon the woman's face, her eyes scanning over the list of code and data flying by in front of her. It probably wasn't fantastic that she was hacking into the government that she somewhat served, but understanding schematics about the ship and various other things about it were for the greater good, right? After all, being the tech officer meant she should know how to operate things inside and out! Besides, to Rebecca, the "greater good" and learning of advances in technology were one and the same. If nothing else she could keep some of the info in mind when she returned back to her pirate crewmates.

Glancing up to the sound of footsteps, her own crimson eyes rested upon the young Spectre that had entered the room, her fingers slowing to a stop over the keyboard. Nodding once in understanding, she finished up what she was doing and pushed herself up with a light sigh. Ah well, the pursuit of knowledge usually had to wait. Work first! As Deirge spoke once more, Rebecca slowed as she checked on her suit, picking up a pack that she slid on her back while being mindful of some of the pouches along her waist. Besides her pistols of course. "Aye, I do believe it is. No real opportunity before this." She spoke in her usual cockney accent, brushing a couple of loose strands back from her pale skin. "I'm usually off with the pirates anywho." Chuckling lightly to herself, she was satisfied with her rather intricately designed suit, the various swirls rather beautiful to her. It was good to be a Spectre.

Looking up as she Commander Shepard moved towards the door, she too picked up her helmet and tucked it under her arm. Ain't no rest for the wicked as a song said and boy was this true. "And you as well Deirge. Catch you on the flip side." Giving her companion a lazy salute, she too slid her helmet on with a soft kssh as the pressure was adjusted. Deep breath in, and out. She was never quite used to these sorts of jumps and frankly, heights weren't exactly her favorite thing in the world. It wasn't like it would affect her completion of the mission, she just didn't like them was all. Waiting for Deirge to be a good distance down, she also jumped out, her arms laying flat against her body as her legs stayed taught next to each other. She was flying, and all she could think of was what Sal might think of this. Or any of the pirates really. It brought a smirk to her features beneath her mask.

Twisting to the side, she could hear the Normandy pull up and away, her destination a bit different from Deirge. She could sneak in all covert like, but she had something else in mind quite frankly. Take out communications, or scramble their networks, and that would be golden. Hrm.... an EMP would be excellent too if but a little extreme. She doubted many would like her for setting one off all considering. Staring down at the relay tower in the distance, she pulled her chute and took a deep breath. Alright, time for some action.

It didn't take long for her to reach the ground, casting off the parachute as she rolled, drawing out her pistols and quickly ducking behind the nearest building. Leaving her helmet on, the screen flickered to life, focusing upon the target she had set for herself. Take out a communications tower, you cause a bit of mayhem. Besides, she wasn't a tank. She was better suited for these sorts of things. Beeping. Enemies were close. Carefully sliding along the wall towards where her helmet's screen was indicating, she peeked around the corner, a cross-hair locking onto the three men around the corner. They had seen her parachute. Hardly surprising, it wasn't like she had tried to hide.

Darting out, she fired off three shots, the sound quickly followed by three grunts and thuds. Her feet pumped against the snow, her eyes glancing between where the bleeps on her screen were coming from. She knew where they were before she technically saw them, and she accounted for that. Dodging, to them it probably seemed like she had ESP or something, firing at just the right time at the right place so each fell to the ground dead. Maybe some were wounded. The important thing was that they were out of commission.

It was sort of sad. The communications tower was relatively unguarded. Most of the forces must have gotten sent into the city to defend it against the onslaught from the various armies. Oh well, it was good for her at least! Sneaking into the security building, she shot the couple of guards there and slid off her glove so she could touch her hand to the computer. It felt warm to her skin. Activating the circle upon her skin, she immediately could hear the processing of the computer as if it were speaking Amestrian to her. "Single Command. Shut down all primary functions across the facility." She intoned and quickly withdrew her hand, hearing the confirmation reply just before she disconnected. Looking up to the communications tower, she noticed a small spark as power was lost, wondering how effective that was in the long run.

Getting the hell out of there, she took cover while fighting off a couple of Drachman militants, her glove back upon her hand. Gripping her pistols tightly, she waited for a break in their fire before ducking out of cover to return fire, a frown creasing her lips beneath her helmet. Thank god for Cretan's technological advances and collaboration with Carraig. She had to push onward towards the city, see what trouble she could cause there.

Spoiler:

[Guest]

"No, I'll be fine. I promise. I'll keep in touch!" Jeu-Hee called out to her parents as she walked towards the door with a rather large pack slung over her shoulder. It was rather comical given her small frame, but she managed to hold it fine. She had heard of stirrings at the palace, and she needed to go investigate. Just because she was a foreign ambassador didn't mean she shouldn't be involved! Though.... She hadn't been summoned.... Meh! Besides the point! She might be needed anyways! "But what if they don't need you?" Her mother called again, causing the young girls eyes to roll. "Then I'll get sent home! But I doubt it. You know why. I love you both very much, please try not to worry. I'll be fine, really!" Flashing them a smile as they came into view at the base of the stairs, her light green eyes stared at them for a moment before finally turning towards the door to leave.

A relatively quiet street greeted her as she closed the door softly behind her, taking a deep breath. Alright, first sign of action since the termination of her duties a couple of years ago! She totally had this! ....She hoped. No! She did have this! She had to. Her country and king were counting on her! Walking rather briskly towards the palace that loomed up in the distance, it didn't take her long to arrive at all. One advantage of her new position is that she got to move her parents closer so they wouldn't be too far. She knew how they could worry so. They couldn't help it, given what she had been through, she couldn't really blame them. At least she still had her own place!

Humming brightly to herself as she soon arrived, Jeu-Hee headed for the throne room to report for duty, a little bit concerned that she might interrupt something. Maybe she should wait. A possible war.... It made her sigh as she glanced around this place that she called home. Would it get ruined? Would all be the same? And she still never made it to Amestris... Her heart clenched as she forced her features to remain bright-neutral per usual. No, she might see him there! And then.. and then... Well, she didn't know what would happen, but she might get to see him! That was her more personal, secret reason for wanting to be included in the war effort. If it was true. And it certainly sounded true from some of the emails she had received from various people in Amestris, Creta, even Drachma. Of course she gave no answers one way or another, but offered what she could to at least soothe their concerns a little bit. It was the best she could do.

Walking up to the palace doors, she glanced to the attendants that were there and noticed how they glanced to each other. "Is he already meeting with someone?" They nodded, "Yes, with Xiao Yu and Piezhi. You were not called." Of course, that did make sense. Sliding the pack from her back, she decided to wait outside for them to finish since they were right, she hadn't been summoned and she didn't want to interrupt important matters of state with a personal request of this sort. "If the Emperor could be told that I wish to speak to him, that would be most appreciated." She asked of them quietly, appearing once more as the mature ambassador that everyone saw her as. Mm..... some shrimp chips sounded good while she waited.... No, focus now! One of the attendants nodded and vanished, leaving her to ponder just what she would even do.

[Reila Tsukino]

PLEASE ADHERE TO THIS:

From here on PUT WHERE YOU ARE IN THE TITLE OF YOUR POST AND THE NAMES OF THE CHARACTERS WHOM YOU ARE SPEAKING/INTERACTING WITH. Example: "DRACHMA BATTLE FIELD - Reila, Dai, Alex, Viktor".

ALSO NOTE:

From here on, the sun is setting and it is nighttime.

Now it's a free-for-all no posting order, GO!

Try not to leave people out. AND CLEARLY STATE IN YOUR POSTS WHAT IS HAPPENING. It's already intensely confusing even for me.

[Toss Ivanova]

He was the master of the skies--he and The Fallacy--racing towards freedom to clear the air of garish foreign planes, copters, air crafts, and the like. Why he did this for the conceited bitch, he didn't know. Maybe it was because he owed her for turning him into a homunculus... But either way, he felt jipped. She didn't even pay him a second mind that day they all ran into each other at the diner in Central City, Amestris. It resulted in chaos--as it should have by placing a bunch of monsters all in the same vicinity. They ended up not even talking... Well, Toss didn't stay around long enough to find out what else happened. He was glad to this day that he hadn't. Moaning to himself, he envisioned the entire hectic morning that this day had brought forth.

Not only had he woken up early to the sound of his alarm clock malfunctioning from being slammed against the wall too many times, but Savvy hadn't come back yet...so he was FREEZING. The damn window was wide open, breezing in air stuck between summer and fall. He remembered staring outside for at least twenty minutes in disbelief, struggling to decide whether to close it as punishment to the bird or not. He ended up closing the damn thing and then kicking something--he didn't remember what, but it was now broken. Speaking of breaking things, his toaster oven also broke that morning...and it almost took his apartment with it. He decided it was a wonderful idea to take a shower while his toast was baking. Of course, it beeped to deaf ears as the water blared and collided with the tile below his feet. The drain gurgled, he hummed a tune he heard on the radio...he didn't hear shit. And when he got out...SMOKE--SMOKE EVERYWHERE! He wished he had left the window open or at least installed better smoke detectors for crying out lou-- Oh wait never mind. The sheer screaming of the detectors made his head swim as droplets cascaded off the tips of white hair. He padded with wet feet into the kitchen, holding his breath, and dousing the entire toaster oven in water. Electricity danced across his skin, but could go nowhere else as it met with iridescent dragon scales, shining rainbows against the kitchen walls. Black pupils transformed into cat-like slits, scarlet eating at the sides. He sucked in a smoke-filled breath and unplugged the contraption from the wall. Immediately the scales sunk back into his skin and his eyes returned to normal, the world coming back into a more normal prospective. He hated being in that form. So inhuman...so separate from the flow of the world.

And that was how his morning went. The toaster over was one of five that he owned so it wasn't much of a loss, but it left a strange gap in his soul...like...like something was eating at him and he HAD TO GO BUY ANOTHER ONE NOW. But he had to save that for after he stole the lives of others. It was too bad killing people couldn't get him anything other than maybe a sideways glance from Vanity. And it wasn't like he cared or anything. She couldn't care less about him so why should he bother trying to do anything for her? After this, he was done. Gavin was the only one he would listen to. All the other ones could SUCK IT. He punched the dash board where a dent already was and then apologized under his breath to Fallacy for his unrelenting violence. Sometimes one couldn't help whom one was... Toss learned that again and again and again and again and-- Beep beep beep... SOMEONE ON THE RADAR?!

He jumped forward, thrusting his face into the screen that showed a red dot moving closer and closer and CLOSER. HO' SHIT! He readied his laser shooter and swerved to the side so he wouldn't be in direct range of the larger ship. The shadow of it grew in the distance and soon his high beams burst it into complete view. He cackled to himself, locking on and firing without warning whatsoever. "No one flies in my air without permission." And speaking of flying... Savvy would be pissed when he got back... since the window was closed. Oops. Well, it was better that way. Seeing as he had no idea when he would be back that is... Savvy could have starved had he been locked inside. Toss only hoped he would understand. And it was funny how much they could grasp. Birds were smart. A plume of smoke gathered from where his laser fired, charging up for another because there was no way a single, straight blast would bring down a ship that large. He had to cut horizontal this time. He grinned like a child whose turn it was to bat...after waiting for fucking ever.

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