Streets of Central - RIOTE NPCs, Amestrian NPCs, Vanity

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

Hans drifted in and out of consciousness and when he managed to fight back the darkness, he found himself in an extreme pain. The men in the car were no medics, but they were trying to stop his bleeding. A ill-fitting bandage had been put at the hole in his back and another was being placed to the hole in his front. Too bad they were pressing down hard on the wound and MAKING IT HURT MORE. Hans growled and attempted to knock the two of them away. It slipped into his mind that his hands had been bound tightly behind his back, while his ankles were similarly tied. So they could tie a knot but they couldn't even bandage someone properly? What kind of troops did RIOTE have? They were crap, apparently. They pushed down hard again on the wound and Hans slipped back into darkness.

When Hans awoke again, he discovered that the truck he was currently in was no longer alone on the road. A sports car had joined them? As well as some other vehicles? His vision was limited from where they had him situated in the truck, but he could see buildings on either side. Where exactly were they taking him? He struggled a little to sit up, but was shoved back down. Gunfire started shortly thereafter. They had re-engaged Amestrian forces. Hans silently rooted for his men and women, hoping that they would stop this convoy and get him safely out. Not that they knew he was inside of course. But he would rather be dead, with RIOTE troops defeated, than having his troops die trying to save him.

Hans blacked out once more, which was probably for the best. The RIOTE troops barreled through the guards on the northern perimeter. The perimeter guard fought well, but RIOTE had the superior numbers. It could have been a massacre, except for when darkness fell across the Amestrian guards, blacking out the entire area... even the sun. The RIOTE troops merely hit the lights on their cars, finding their path clear of soldiers. They pulled up to Central HQ, finding the building primarily deserted. There were minimal troops still inside, which could be easily dealt with. But in the meantime, the Chancellor found himself back at Central HQ when his eyes opened. What in the hell was going on? And why was he back here?

[Spade Aeries]

Okay, he needed a mango Kit Kat bar and what came with it, seriously. Spade stooped to retrieve his rifle a few steps away, unreigned energy leaking from him like a faulty faucet, following each shuddering breath. To breathe, it almost felt like someone was choking the air out of him. It was kinda weird and like unnatural or something. Damn weirdass involuntarily voluntary breathing thing. He'd never understand it. It was like 'here, I'll give you the choice whether to breathe or not, but if you don't, you'll pass out AHAHAHA'. Evil bastards. And whoever controlled coincidence was also a bastard and deserved to die. He was commanding this entire charade, yet he couldn't even handle using two alkahestric abilities at the same time? Maybe he really was getting old. Still, fuck you fate. It was the kind of cruel and unusual that was only dealt to people who had seen six black cats and broke a couple mirrors while prancing under a ladder. Spade's luck never ran out, but he felt pretty damn unlucky right about now. It was almost like time was purposely being wasted--like he was being kept from the action by a single man in order to thwart him from his responsibilities. He stared blankly at the chimera. Nah, he wasn't that smart.

In fact, he appeared to be suffering in some way, queuing Spade in on a little insight to what exactly he broke. "WHAT...WHAT IS THIS?"

"A meltdown maybe?" Did he sound too hopeful? Because honestly he was pretty much there and it was showing quite a bit. But wouldn't it be great if the monstrous chimera rhino--whatever the fuck it was just lost it and ditched? He'd have a lot less strep-throat-Batman to worry about and could probably proceed onto more important things...like ensuring that Central remained intact. Being tied up here was more than a little problem; he hadn't received any confirmation that the Chancellor's envoy reached its destination or anything at all. Static. Silence. It was cold, dark, and--did the sun just go behind a cloud? A bitter smile. The leftovers of the Jeep clanked off into the distance like the last flicker of a candle blown out. Goodbye camo beauty you drove our ammunition well. RIP. Solemnly, he gazed at the scattered pieces, mouthing sweet nothings only a vehicle of that caliber could understand. A sad death, torn to the end by clawed hands like flesh, bleeding motor oil and bio diesel alike. He shook his head.

More name-calling occurred--the same old, same old. The brunette was barely listening, just observing and trying to regain himself. It seemed like one was suffering more than the other by far, however. "WHAT IS...?"

"Anyone have a nail file?" Well, that didn't make any sense. He certainly never took the time to file his nails let alone clip them off, but judging from the unique situation, the thought seemed viable. It was better than sitting back and listening to a broken record asking the same question over and over again. A BREAK DOWN. I MESSED WITH YOUR MIND. Clearly. How much more obvious could he make it. Spade tapped his head with a sly smile. "Memories. All I had to do was draw them out." Simple as that. Could he go n--

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" JESUSGOD was there a mute button!? Spade half-ducked, wincing visibly, and taking note that Markus' snoring in college was just bumped down to second for most annoying sound. What the hell was going on? Instead of just turning his brain to mush, he seemed to be in actual, physical... A transformation was occurring. The animal was becoming man. So this was a higher generation chimera. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and fiddled with some steel wire and the rifle. The weapon seemed usable and by attaching the wire to it, he'd be able to use some fancy tricks. "kdfhkjaaslf." Well, that made sense. He nodded as if he understood, eyeing the strangely human chimera as he wrapped the wire around his rifle. "Happy now, Amestrian?"

"If it was happy hour perhaps."

"You were right, I'm no more human than the animals that remain a part of me to this day." He blinked for a second, trying to grasp exactly what the guy even meant. Cause like, 'the animals that remain a part of [him]' are animals, therefore are not human at all. He never claimed the chimera [b]wasn't[b] human. Somewhere inside of him he obviously was human. Also, it wasn't like Spade could use his alkahestry on rhinos. He had a human brain and right now, he'd be damned if Tart wasn't human right now. But what should he say--how should he respond? He was at a loss, finding it hard to conjure a cheesy joke considering the levity of the situation. He just couldn't do it; he couldn't laugh about the humanity of another person. He remained silent, staring straight ahead. No sympathy, no amusement. "Are you fucking happy?!" He tensed. It was easier when they were just trying to kill you. Damn terrorists asking so many goddamn questions. Could they cut to the chase? That was the question.

Alright, he had in fact been seeing this strange...device, but from afar there was no way in hell he could tell was it was. It seemed he was about to find out. Away from Tart it rolled, towards him. Strange energy jolted through the air, making Spade's arm hair stand on end, and his eyes narrow with focus. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to hit him. In moments, the thing carved a large crater, appearing to be about 2.9 feet in diameter. In the center were two white-looking shapes. He squinted, unable to make them out. The chimera was approaching them, looking like Barney on crack. Were those...weapons--blades? No, rapiers? He blinked rapidly and took a few steps forward, simultaneously regretting it. "Because you don't have much of a life left to!"

...

What he crazy here or...? Glancing from the rapiers to his rifle, Spade was at a loss. Was there even any competition? Common sense told him no, but he still knew better. Okay, maybe he could move hella fast in that form? He wasn't really sure, but his trap was already set up while he was waiting, nearly invisible wire intertwined into a web only the skilled could navigate. He raised the rifle, aimed, and fired, already knowing somehow that he was going to miss.

"Prove it."

[Csilla Angelis]

Csilla was surprised how... quiet everything seemed. Central wasn't exactly silent; the gunfire and sounds of war could be heard all around them. But Central HQ was not being attacked... it was quite safe, at this point. Yet Csilla knew that letting their guard down for any moment would cost them all their lives. She occasionally radioed into the other perimeter spots, checking for movement. It was the same on all ends. There was some occasional RIOTE troop that got to close, but the Amestrians were able to take them down easily.

The first real sense of action Csilla got was when Jay Furor's voice crackled over the radio. Apparently the evacuation of the Chancellor had gone terribly wrong. The convoy had fallen apart and Hans had been captured. This was definitely not good. It followed shortly thereafter by Jay calling into her specifically for a bit of rescue. Csilla offered a quick prayer up to Ares to protect Hans and then radioed back to Jay. “I'll get to you as soon as I can, Colonel Furor. Try to just... not move.” Csilla managed a bitter, little laugh. She then radioed across to her group on the southern perimeter. “Guys, Colonel Furor is down. I need two of you to be ready with a jeep. I'll be heading your way momentarily.”

Csilla turned to her own group to give them new orders when panicked shouts crackled over the radio. “Major! North perimeter is under serious fire! We can't hold them back! They're trying to break through!” Csilla glared angrily at the sky, noticing that Ares had NOT been helping her troops out very much yet. “I'm getting you guys out of there! Hold on! You know what to do!” She turned her troops. “Stay here. I've got to get closer.” Csilla hopped down from her perch atop a jeep and began to run through the side streets until she was as close as she needed to be. She yanked her gloves off her hands and reached, palms up, high in to the air. The light of the day in the area of the skirmish suddenly disappeared, lost in the circles on Csilla's hands. She gritted her teeth against the burning feeling. She normally would project it back out, but right now... darkness was their best ally.

She stood there for what felt like ages, until one of her north perimeter troops came up to her. “We're out, Major. Thank you.” She nodded, releasing the light back to its original location. She knew her hands would have burns on them later, but for now... her troops were safe and that was what was most important. “Get the wounded into a building for treatment. Get everyone else who is able-bodied to the other perimeters. I suspect they've gone to HQ. I'll be back.”

She radioed into the south perimeter, running to meet up with them. The two she had asked for we're ready and she dove into the jeep, commanding they take off. It didn't take long to find the debris of the failed convoy, and Csilla easily picked out Jay. She got out of the car with a half-smile, “You look terrible.” Gingerly, Csilla and the two men got Jay into the jeep. “I think you're down for the count now, Colonel.” She looked at the men. “Get her to the medic building.”

Radioing into her perimeter troops, she heard horrifying news. They'd found the Chancellor. He was at Central HQ, along with a bunch of RIOTE troops and apparently the leader of Drachma, Alena. This was bad. Csilla ordered everyone to wait for her return and the radioed Spade on a private channel. “Spade, Csilla. We've found the Chancellor. RIOTE has him at Central HQ. They broke through the perimeter. Seems like we've got a siege on our hands now.” Csilla sighed heavily as she clicked off the radio. This would be her first siege... how terribly sad it had to be against her own fortress.

[Guest]

"Prove it."

The words echoed and reverberated in the chimera's mind. Snarling, he watched as the man pulled a rifle taut; but his charge had begun, and once it had so, Balthazar knew more than all people that he was unstoppable. The decision to lunge in for close combat was a moronic one, and one he'd more-than-likely pay for in the long run - the revolvers would have been an ideal choice for this scenario. But something about this man... something just made the Drachman's blood boil so that this finale had to be personal.

Balthazar's reversion had signified a levelling of the playing fields. Now, they were on par; Spade had long since wrested free the battle's advantage, with his Xingese sorceries and the rifle as opposed to the chimera's pseudo-human strength and twin blades... there was no way that the chimera could spin this around without a quick reprieve which the General would simply treat as an opportunity for execution.

The battle was drawing to a conclusion. Though he was arrogant and wrathful beyond measure, Balthazar was still intelligent enough to know when leaving your enemy to fight another day was a better option. Plus... this Aeries had proven himself worthy. Worthy enough of not such a menial death, not just to be impaled twice over with alchemically-forged blades tapered to a point as sharp as a demon's claw. No... this man... this man had proven himself in the field of battle, and stood ground against a towering, armoured, imposing chimera and lived to tell the tale. For this, he was no simple human. But for this, his death would be all the more gruesome.

"GRRAGH!" The moment he saw the General's finger hover to the trigger, a combination of primal instinct and training kicked in. Immediately, he dropped to the ground mid-charge, and swung his feet out in front of him as gunfire crackled over his head. With barely a few seconds til contact, the chimera flipped the blades around into reverse grip as fluidly as he could, and swung them up just as he neared Spade, having essentially pulled himself down into a tackle.

Recovery was swift. He didn't check to see whether he'd hit the General or not; but regardless, the blades themselves had actually been guided towards his legs, only to cut, not to maim nor kill. No, this man was far too important to maim in Balthazar's eyes. The only puny, tiny, moronic speck of an Amestrian that was worth keeping alive - and at this range, he could see the man was Xingese scum, too.

Spitting, he pulled himself above with a pant. He felt like every breath he drew in was gaseous flame or some form of acid vapour, scorching his lungs. His temples pulsed with more energy than a nuclear meltdown. His blood felt like gasoline, sliding through him like some organic, hydraulic, slaughtering, fear-mongering, terror-bringing machine. "You..." He gasped for more air with a sick grin, holding up the blades and raising them to either side, jabbing the points downwards. "You... are worthy."

His voice was haggard and his words splintering and disjointed, the thick, Drachman accent not making it any better. With a grunt, he lowered both arms in twin arcs, flecked with blood, grime, dirt, and sweat, streaking down his face in minuscule brown-red trickles. The rapiers cut through the air with whistling efficiency, and met the ground with a thud. Stone slammed against stone, and in each, the strength behind the blades forced tiny cracks into the warm tarmac as the remainder of the inferno continued to blaze, though now dwindling in most places, an adequate backdrop for the pair's clash and now the conclusion to it.

"I... remember now." He was close enough to see clearly now, squinting at the man as he rubbed his wrists vigorously, hands finally free of any weapon. "From the files." He watched for a rifle or pistol, making sure Spade didn't draw - he hadn't, yet. Hopefully that was enough reason. "Lieutenant General Aeries." Scrabbling, he moved towards a nearby body of a fallen soldier, and tugged a holstered M1911 from the fatigues, the flames eagerly lapping at the Amestrian soldier's body. The fighting around them had more-or-less finished.

Flicking the safety off and easing back the hammer, Balthazar trained the sights dead-on Spade, but made it clear he wouldn't shoot. This was just a safety measure. Slowly, bare feet ground against grit and tarmac, rubble and gravel, as the blonde chimera moved back towards the crater, still warm from the alchemical discharge and the fires drifting at its edge. The active metal within, the orb, sat static, save for a single baroque "5" glowing on the edge with residual energy. The blades stood tall, blackened markings etched into the sides, as he scooped up the bronze orb and nodded in the man's direction, still aiming the pistol at his midsection. "We'll meet again, Lieutenant General." For some reason, he held no fear of any higher-calibre or automatic weaponry that could be aimed at him. The battle was over; whether Spade would let him leave unscathed was one thing, but Balthazar had other issues to attend to. Thus the necessity of the pistol. The chimera finished with a growl. "You can count on it."

The fastest way to move, undetected, through the battle zones in the city, Balthazar had long-since decided, was sitting beneath them. A network of sewer tunnels and pipes. He didn't care about smelling like shit. He snarled in the direction of the activity's hub, probably where Aurelius, Alena, and that damned kid were waiting for him. The plan was in play, the board set, and everything about to kick off, and, of course, Tartarus couldn't be late.

Slowly, he padded backwards, moving swiftly away from Spade, keeping his eyes and the barrel of the pistol on the man at all times. "I have... prior arrangements." With that, he kicked off the manhole, made a mock salute, and disappeared into the labyrinthine network of sewer pipes in the world below Central.

[Jay Furor]

Ahhh, splendid! Csilla was headed for her rescue, so it seemed! Quite lovely, indeed, actually. For the third time in her life, she actually DID need a rescue, and this time, she probably couldn't have just relied on amazing luck. So, noting that she was bleeding a little, her thoughts started blurring slightly from the wounds, and she noticed a few RIOTE goons coming by, three of them, in a standard sweep maneuver. Raising her hefty pistol, she locked the sights on one of them, and fired off another exploding crack of the handgun, letting fly a chunk of ammo most often fired from a rifle, not a revolver. Unfortunately for this man, Jay's weapon had the best of both world's; small, easier to fire, and still every bit as lethal. The surviving two turned to attack her, but she fell back done, playing dead. They approached, checking corpses. As one checked a body a few meters to the south-east, facing away from her, the other came close. Much too close... As he leaned in to check her pulse, she grabbed him by the throat, cutting off any chance at screaming for help. "First mistake; you never lean down to check a corpse. Second mistake; the double-tap. Shoot the corpse twice, then check. Kills ammo, but saves lives. And lastly," With a mighty grip on his throat, and an agonizing pain as she sat up, she spoke only once more, as she flung him, body-first, towards his friend; like killing a chicken on a farm, the body flew straight off; the head stayed in her automail hand, and she threw it behind her, cracked a shot at the man on the ground, covered in his beheaded comrade's blood, and she immediately dropped back to the ground.

A few minutes later, she noticed a familiar blue uniform, and Csilla appeared. Her senses off, she just managed to hear Csilla speak, and had to grin at the Major; "Well, gee, Csilla! That's certainly a nice way to greet me! Hahaha... Had you been hit by a jeep, I'd have told you that you still looked sexy as always~" Chuckling, she let the men and Csilla lift her into a jeep, comically ironic, as she'd just killed the vehicle's brother.

Listening to Csilla again, she noted she would be heading off to a medic, though hopefully not for long; she planned on returning to combat soon enough. Central needed defending, and a war goddess on crutches was just as lethal! "Thank you for the help, Csilla~ Timely rescue, indeed." Hmm... Maybe Cretans weren't all too bad after all, and perhaps getting rescued by one may have cleared the debt the nation owed her her legs and arm... Nah. But Csilla was alright with Jay!

[Nyx]

Not bad, the woman said? Of course it wasn't bad. As Nyx began to think almost rationally again, her thoughts were clouded by anger, obscuring that limited rationality, and instead, flashing icy memories in her mind. Of course it wasn't a bad attack... She was trained, built, and conditioned not to fail... As close as possible to the perfection desired by Erzengel. Ha... Haha... That name... Her native Amestrian for archangel. But little had Gregory known... Little did he know, just how perfect his little "archangel" was... She'd surpassed that tier; an archangel no more, but a goddess. His creation had risen from the flames of her escape, and after a long process of beautiful burning, pure and innocent as it had been, she'd emerged; a phoenix she'd been in his lab, deadly and precise, but caged. And in her triumphant escape, she'd come to be a spark of hottest flame, charring away the bars that pressed her freedom, and she burst from the cell in a hot wind of smoke and soot, until now, and only now, as those she loved dropped like flies, leaving her alone to face the world, she became new; a new creation, a new creature. On the white wings she soared upon, if only in a metaphorical sense, the small child had finally come to terms with the turmoil building like bile within, and she was ready to take on the world again, a brilliant, powerful phoenix once more, undying and never-ending.

"Aurel..."

Battle Theme #2?

Her wings flung to her front, and she moved once more, taking refuge from the bulletstorm, as her shining eyes of violet spoke to the Sun, Night communing with Day; here she was at her best, in the shining of the Sun, as comical as it was. Or was it? her bow was the Day, and as such, it was best used in the daylight, when her vision was sharpest. She stared through the smoke, picking out her target with finely tuned sight and above-par hearing. And luckily, ears and eyes tuned in already, she sensed the bolt before it got too close. She jumped, just as the explosive weapon blew. With clenched teeth, not noticing tears beginning to well at the corners of her eyes, marks of realization Hild was gone, that Aurel would soon join her, and of the anger at Rebecca for interrupting her last chance to say good-bye to the one man in the world she aspired to be like, she drew back two arrows on the drawstring, alchemically charged, and let them fly, bow sideways, so as to fire the arrows horizontally parallel, so as to form a sort of clothesline of fire at Rebecca. She repeated this a few more times, as the girl moved about, firing off bolts; soon it was an archers' war.

Soon, those bolts happened to be gaseous in nature, when Nyx noticed they didn't immediately explode. Quickly covering her mouth and nose, breathing through feathers, she managed to outlast the majority of the tranquilizing spray. That was all well and fine, of course. The problem came next... Nyx barely had time to register what had gone on as some of the gas diffused into the air, but a grenade had been chucked near her. With utmost skill and precision, she leaped directly over it, moving away, with a thrust of her wings, shoving her jump a bit higher into the air, though not by much, and she stepped onto the inflamed limo once more, leaping from it as well, as the force of the explosive rocked the ground and vehicle, giving her a harsh shove through the air, as she landed a good ways away, slightly singed and bruised a tad, but otherwise fine, and she calmly looked around, much akin to the bird of prey Gregory had...

What was she doing? She was doing exactly what he'd planned... If he were to be there right then, he'd have seen her prowess in live combat, and laughed, pleased by his little pet's accomplishments... And that was all she'd been back then... His toy, to experiment on and play with, to use and abuse time and time again for the sadistic goals of Project Erzengel. He was the sole survivor now, as the vast majority of his brother psychos were exterminated by a Creigsman, last she'd checked. Not for long... But or now... No. She wasn't playing along with his sick goals to create a perfect angel, an aviary chimera.

She was bigger than that... Better than that. She was fighting for Hild. For Aurel. For herself. For RIOTE. For peace.

For peace, she marched on...

[Robyn]

(Screw you guys I'm doing a exit post -diva hair flip-)


The way she approached him with an attitude so submissive it made his lip curl. What was she doing looking like a beaten dog? A creature like her should be proud and walk like the alpha she was meant to be. He clicked his tongue as she stopped holding a most stupefied expression on her face. “I am so relieved you found me." She reeked of fear and doubt. “Reaver, how did you know how to find me?" He couldn’t help but tut as his ultimate eye stared pointedly at her. “I am the more advanced of all our siblings after all my sweet. Did you really doubt I would find the likes of you and Vanity? Those who cower under a being so…unfitting?” He chuckled and tapped his cane letting it ring out to anyone who can hear. The screams in his head where starting to irritate him as it made his mind pound with an imaginary beat of war drums.

“Really now I don’t expect to have to come save you every time you get in a mess like this. What on earth made you want to follow him Lust? Were the far superior beings after all.” He was getting more and more angry each passing moment. A hot lump in his throat as he saw what damaged Aruel had done to lust. The beautiful dangerous creature that had strode into his manor back in Creta. With eyes like liquid gold with the feral danger of savage lupine creatures. And now here she was…cowering like a puppy that had peed on the carpet. How disgusting she was now…no longer beautiful.

He stepped toward her his own venomous eye and one the clear mark of his sin staring down into her. “I am rather disappointed.” His hand captured her chin forcing her to keep eye contact. “I only hope maybe this will be a wake up call to remind you where your currently standing…and to where you meant to stand.” He sealed his lips over hers as he allowed wraths screams to burn into her skull. Hoping they would remind her how strong she should be…how strong she was meant to be! For a spilt moment the screaming would die leaving the world quiet. The kind of quiet that would prelude an event of magnitude or a twist in the plot.

The only noise that would break it was the quietest of clicks. As nimble fingers pulled back the safety of a beloved pistol. The muzzle placed delicately against the chin of soft tanned skin. Lips curved into a smirk as he pulled back. A voice as soft as silk cooing into her ear. “Goodnight my dear…I hope when you awake from this nightmare you will be yourself once more…. If not…then I will make sure I am the one that kills you…permanently.” A simple squeeze of the trigger would end this. The bang would be heard by no one but the hand that had pulled the trigger.

But his compassion hadn’t left him. Catching her with his arm before she hit the ground he lifted her. Somehow he had managed to shrug the soft coat from his shoulders and p0laced it round her. The fur cradling her head like a halo of darkness. Carrying her to the side he laid her on a bench knowing someone would most likely look for her if she didn’t heal before they found her. Laying her there he couldn’t help but scoff at the image. Like some twisted version of snow white or sleeping beauty. Chuckling softly as he turned now coatless but no less graceful and he placed Red rum back in it’s holster and pulled out a cell phone dialing the only number he bothered with half the time. “Barry I’m coming back so here’s a warning. I want wine and it better be decent…and a strong cup of tea...I have the most awful of headaches…” He glanced back to lust as the sputtering of the servant continues in her ear. “No Barry They will not be joining us…for now that is…I do not allow mere mongrels in my presence after all..." With that he walked off the tapping of the cane making it seem like a simple stroll in the park.

[Spade Aeries]

Down he went, dirt kicking up as pure speed screamed through the air. Instinct. Spade, however, did not move. Intellect. Eyes narrowed in concentration at the place that should have been Tart's grave, the rifle bullet narrowly missed its target. Pft, it figured. Upwards, the dodge turned into an attack, blades flipping backwards to strike directly at the General's legs. He'd be skewered like shish-kabob on the Fourth of July, that is, if his steel wires hadn't been set in place. Like a malleable web, they took the brunt of the attack, absorbing it before tightening into a clunk of sparks. Coolly, a smile slid onto the brunette's face. Holding out his hands to the side like he had no clue what was going on, he shook his head. "Does the air disagree with you?" What? If he wasn't going to laugh, at least he tried. The nearly ephemeral wires made it appear as if the area around Spade was a force field, thwarting most physical attacks with invisible hands. Nope, not alchemy. Not like Spade was any good at alchemy anyway. Somewhere inside of him he knew he wasn't cut out for the art. Alkahestrist through and through, Spade was convinced that the blame for that rested in his heritage. It was just meant to be that way. But see, he didn't need it.

As the chimera picked himself up, Spade was more than a little wary that he would figure out the trick. Then he'd be screwed. However, it seemed that he was too worn thin to realize that his attack was even blocked. "You... are worthy," came the croaky voice of truth.

"That's what they usually tell me the next morning." But instead of confirming his convictions some more, the RIOTE chimera seemed more intrigued with attacking the tarmac. Waste. Of. Time. Wildly, Spade looked around for an escape, keeping his preferably vision constantly trained on the strangely talkative enemy.

"Lieutenant General Aeries."

"Yep, the one and only. You want an autograph or something?" Distracted, Spade continued to glance off into the distance for reprieve or at least a chance to use his radio. Right now, he wasn't sure if he would be able to achieve either without first ending this strange mishmash of human and animal. By the time he turned back around, Tart had been stooping to take up a M1911 from a fallen soldier in their midst. Frozen, Spade took a faint breath. Shit. That was stupid of him. The safety flicked off, but the chimera didn't appear as though he was willing to shoot the General with it. Strange. Pulsing from his body was a festering twitch of his Dragon's Pulse, ready and willing at any time to dodge a bullet...or try. He was going to escape. From the way he was moving, backwards, aiming, heading to retrieve his shit. Spade's head listed to the side slightly, emerald eyes doused in darkness. Should he let him go?

"We'll meet again, Lieutenant General." The manhole lid was kicked off, loudly taken by gravity. Spade winced at the cacophony, dropping his rifle in time to see the figure disappear down into the sewer tunnels of his city. Fuck no they didn't need rats that big. Cutting the wires slack with his watch, Spade only hesitated a moment to drop down after him into the darkness. Seriously, if he let this go, he'd have nightmares about evil RIOTE chimerae bursting from the Central sewer system and eating children. Every time he'd pass a sewer grate, he'd see the beady eyes of Tart darting every which way with that sick smile on his face. NO THANK YOU. He didn't need any more of that shit. Dripping with black, Spade lit up his beat up Zippo, and squinted three feet ahead of him. Dude, the hell was the water always green for. It made him want to dump coloring dyes down the grates just to fuck with the cliché. Rolling his eyes at himself, he trudged through the sludge wishing he didn't have his doc martins on right now.

“Spade, Csilla." Okay, he nearly just made the adage 'jumping out of your skin' into a reality right there. Jesus. "We've found the Chancellor. RIOTE has him at Central HQ. They broke through the perimeter. Seems like we've got a siege on our hands now.”

"What" burst from his lips with heavy punctuation at the end. "Hans was missing? HOW. RIOTE has him!? The perimeter was broken? A siege?" ... He took a deep breath of putrid air he was surprised wasn't bursting into flames from his lighter. "I am in a sewer." He stared ahead and bit his lip that tasted like ashes and sweat. The fuck was he supposed to do? How did they even manage to get through their lines? He grit his teeth and fumbled with the radio, switching it to all channels. "MOVE. Move on the RIOTE troops now. We're switching to offense. I want a team to head up coordinates I52 and bring the State Alchemists to the front lines." He had begun to climb up out of another manhole he predicted was directly under the Head Quarters. "They're getting in through the sewer system," he barked into the radio. "We need to stop them at the--" Sunlight peaked into the pupils of his eyes raised to behold the great fort of their country's capital city. At the top of the gate stood a figure anyone would recognize as the one that stood behind the previous Fuhrer: Aurelius Carston Schwarz. "The top," he breathed, "fire at the top of Central HQ!!!"

[EXIT THREAD]

[Guest]

Well then. It seemed like no matter what she fired at the little winged child, she managed to dodge it somehow. No matter if it was grenades, explosive rounds, gas rounds..... Did the child have alchemy of some sort? "Edi, advice?" She murmured as she peeked carefully over the wall to see that the girl was recovering from being thrown aside like a rag doll from the enflamed car. "Allow me." And with that, her bike suddenly roared to life as it raised up a shield before firing four small missiles that homed in on Nyx's position. They were guided missiles, but guided by an AI. Smirking with a small chuckle to herself, she jumped over the fence and fired off the remaining rounds in her machine pistol as she went running towards her bike, sliding back onto it as the shield lowered, revving the engine before taking off down the street. Another two missiles had fired along with the other four, but these had aimed themselves at the building above, rubble quickly descending upon Nyx's position even as Rebecca was moving.

Casting the pistol away, she checked which kind of bolt was loaded before twisting her body around to fire off two more explosive rounds. Fuck, this was getting her nowhere. "Deity Silver, report. What is your position? Do we have orders or an evac yet?" She spoke into her helmet as she turned down a road to come circling back around the block. She knew that Dietrich was up there, as was Zen and Ela. Which meant that Vanity must be up there as well. So who else? And what should she do? She certainly wanted to take out this little child of RIOTE, but she also didn't want to waste precious time when her mission was at stake. "The Chancellor has been kidnapped by RIOTE. He is located at Central HQ. All Amestrians in the vicinity are heading there." Edi reported which made her slow to a stop before she circled all the way around the building. "Seriously?" She muttered under her breath, looking up towards the building above her and then back towards where HQ was located further into the city. They had plenty of forces heading towards that location, but would they need her help? No. No she would wait for word from Deity before she did anything.

So with a quick rev of her engine, she came roaring around the side of the building, raising her right arm in preparation to fire.

[Nyx]

Landing well enough to not cause severe injury, Nyx had gone on to launch a few more attacks on Rebecca with her arrows, but as it seemed, the girl had gotten clever and fired rockets at Nyx. Through the smoke, she saw them clearly; four, aimed fast at her. This wouldn't be easy to pull off, but she could dodge them. 28% chance of survival, with odds fairly adjustable. Good shot. As the four approached, she stood still, before back-flipping, right as they reached her location, yet instead of striking ground, they curved up, and she had to grin; even in her current mindset, Nyx enjoyed a puzzle, and this was a rather interesting high-stakes live-action riddle. So, instead of drawing her bow or her trident, or using her alchemy, Nyx merely adjusted the bracelet on her wrist, so she could see the time. Shouldn't take five minutes to lose these rockets.

She ran backwards a fair bit, matching pace with the missiles, and leaped to the side, quite abruptly, as her wing tapped a wall behind her, ever so lightly. Landing on a platform, she quickly crab-ran, sideways, that is, along it, the platform happening to be large dumpster bin; watching from the side of her eyes, she noted one of the missile missed the turn to follow her, and collided with the wall, exploding into a bright fireball. One down, three to go. Odds were at 46%.

Cartwheeling out of her sideways position, she broke into a sprint, heading towards the burned up limousine. Making sue the missiles were hot on her trail, she ducked and managed to slide, just barely, under the limo, standing and running again, to a satisfying bang, as only two missiles followed, one going under right after her, the other over, and the third, sadly, attempting to go through the limo. Two down, two to go; 74% survival chances. The odds were ever better, it seemed.

The next step was a grand finale. As such, it had to be a daring, risky attempt to detonate both missiles at once. So Nyx abruptly turned to face the missiles, and as they approached, she played chicken with the flying warheads. Darting headstrong at them, she got right in front of them both, right between the two, and dropped to her knees, in a lovely somersault, leading into a run, to build more momentum, her target being the brick wall again. The missiles turned to follow her, now within mere millimeters of each other. Approaching the wall, she stepped onto it, wielding momentum's blessing, and took a great step up the wall, leaping about three or four feet above the ground, and kicking off the wall in a back-flip with her other foot, the one she didn't use to step off the wall; the missiles went after her, but the AI was a little confused when she stepped off, and to make matters worse, she moved directly under her position in midair, resulting in the missiles trying to go two different ways. One went up, the other down, but, as Nyx had planned, their paths intersected, and she just narrowly ducked, wings over her head and neck, as the missiles collided in mid-air; Four down, none to go; 100% chance of survival told her she was, indeed, alive.

And she looked around for Rebecca, but couldn't find her. Figured as much; after launching a powerful attack like that, she'd assumed victory. She'd get her's later... But not now, as Nyx saw some commotion heading for Central HQ. She followed suit, and found what the source of chaos was; Chaos.

And every gun in the streets trained on him. And if they shot him... The thought hit her mind, staring in confusion and surprise at Aurel, from a position of relative obscurity, in the back of the crowd around the building;

Did she have enough arrows for that situation?

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

As the door to the truck opened, Hans growled. He was more awake now, but still in a large amount of pain. Being shot was distinctly unpleasant. He was pulled roughly from the vehicle and he managed to elbow one of the RIOTE troops in the head. He gave a bark of laughter as the man crumpled to the ground. Weakling. Hans saw the Drachman bitch exit from the sports car and he opened his mouth to shout something rather rude, when his vision went black. A gun butt had knocked him the head, helping to knock him unconscious again. Two burly RIOTE troops grabbed at Hans before he fell to the ground, looping their arms through his elbows. They dragged him into Central HQ, led by the blue-haired demon. The few Amestrian troops that were still stationed in the building were quickly handled and Hans was dragged to an elevator.

After riding up in his unconscious state, he was again dragged down the hall to a familiar location he'd been in only a little while ago. When Hans awoke again, he was sitting in his conference room, awkwardly situated in his own massive chair. His hands were still bound but found that his ankles were no longer tied. He had half a mind to get up and kick at someone, but realized that he couldn't stand well. He glanced down at his stomach and saw red through his shirt. Apparently the bandages the RIOTE troops had used were no longer staunching the blood flow. Hans was hit with the chilling thought that he was dying. He glanced around the room, noticing he was alone with Alena. He managed a grimace, resituating himself in the chair to be more comfortable. “You're not going to get away with this, Alena. Whatever the hell you think you're doing. You'll only get hit back tenfold.”

[Csilla Angelis]

Spade's voice sounded harsh coming across the radio, causing Csilla to wince. Yeah... she was so obviously fired. Once this battle was done, she was out of a job. She supposed she deserved it. Spade spoke again, although he sounded like he had hit the major Amestrian channel. Apparently it was offensive time. She radioed her perimeter troops, indicating that they should follow Spade's orders, but leave a score with her to handle taking back Central HQ. The number of RIOTE troops that had gotten through were minimal enough, and they could handle them. She turned to them to begin issuing orders when Spade's voice cracked through the radio again. Her eyes widened as she turned to look at Central. Her heart stopped beating. This was bad.

She turned back around, her face grim. “We need to get people up in those buildings around HQ. It's the only way we'll get an angle on the roof. Who are the best snipers?” Eight soldiers raised their hands, and she waved at them to pair up and get to the buildings. “If you can take a shot at him, do it. But he careful.” She glanced back at her troops, now numbering twelve. “The Chancellor is in there. It's our job to get him out. There's got to be around 20 RIOTE troops in there, plus Alena. We have to be smart about this.” She gathered them close, quietly laying out the plan to get back into Central. Aurel was occupied on the roof and the RIOTE troops couldn't be that bright to be guarding every single door around Central HQ. They probably expected no one to attack the HQ. Well, they would be in for a big surprise.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

"Oh, you'll have your Chancellor back." A soft whisper reverberated in the seething heat above all else, he stood. Coat billowing out into the cliché, he spread his arms, one clasping tight a silver gun. His digits were doused in a light sheen of sweat along with his brow, black hair gathering sunlight into the void. This was it. He felt his lips go lax after speaking, mismatched eyes cold and daring as they beheld the ants just below the tips of his pointed boots. Swaying just enough to stay sturdy, he squinted away the poison slowly killing him, not quick enough; his body was too akin to poison for it to take him when he was ready. It would never be time enough. No. Everything had to be perfect, the pieces were falling into place, his hands now shaking, heart slowing. Hild. "Oh, let it be." Wind kicked up, taking whips of hair and throwing it into air, down to the small of his back. "Everything you wished for." A quaking breath thrust against jagged rocks. "Just a moment." He pulled his right arm close. "That's what I can give you." The gun pressed up against the side of his head, Aurelius Carston Schwarz began to laugh cynically. Right now. This moment, RIOTE owned the world: Drachma, Rouen, Esparia, Gelemorté, Xing, Creta, Aerugo, and here, now Amestris. Right now. In the palm of his hand like pawns. Oh, how easy it had been. Simple planning and some force, when applied, felled the whole foundations of countries: the world. Her's--Hild's "For you." Like calling into the darkness without light switches. He knew. She was already gone.

He would be gone too.

Joining her, like an otherworldly will, cackling at the misfortunate, belittling his plan to pieces of misanthropy. Never. He stood to prove just what this was--just what was being sacrificed for the betterment of betterment itself. To obliterate the balance--to forgo dualism in and of itself. This wasn't him, he knew. This wasn't who he truly was, no--just a fragment. Finding out too late, that he was only the shattered shadow of time burst free. It had to be now--now when he stood over everyone--now while he held Hild's dream in his hands. It would be bathed in his own blood, but it would be accomplished. For her. For her. For her. That's all that mattered in this moment--the moment he'd pull the trigger. He breathed for her--he sought to accomplish her dream that ran parallel to his own for her. She lived within him, but he was soon to stop breathing. Both of them would be erased from existence, together. After all this fighting--brushes with death, they would now face it locked in the same bullet.

And after his death, would be his beginning. He would rise from the ashes of the past, appearing again to finish the chaos he left in his wake, no, left now in his eternal sleep. Ahaha. This was the end, but the start--the fall, but the rise. He would laugh, looking on this dead body, inheriting his pain like a job. Chancellor Hans would also die. Lord Dietrich would also die. Yuuko would also die. Vasco would also die. But one would start afresh, fighting a monster inside. Father, Father would once again be apart of The World. The Gate could restore itself--pave over the history books that had only begun to pan off into ruin. Yes, Chancellor Hans would fit those invisible shoes, playing with the power he was given to rule. Amestris. Amestris, how it always started with you. A place as the center of the world--the center of everything--and the beginning.

Something stirred inside of Aurel, a feeling that tore at him. He felt struck in two--he felt as if he had already pulled the trigger. Something broke inside of him. Red and blue eyes twisted in a frenzy of pain and torment. He shoved the barrel harder against his skull, squeezing slowly, feeling it slowly: each breath--each movement--each feeling of every muscle--life. Just life. That's what this is. And good riddance. The faint yelling words: human garbage. He'd seen to much of it--lived too much of it already. With Hild...it was enough. It was enough now. Gum strapped to walls: grime laced with the misgivings of the human race, meandering through life as if it were a simple game of chess. No, the great king would not stand for it; the great king would--

He pulled the trigger.

His body fell--hit the ground.

Blood was a squashed strawberry field. People rushed over. Voices called.

The leader of RIOTE was dead.

Father's powers returned into the designated source: Chancellor Hans. Along with--along with him, Aurelius Carston Schwarz.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Nyx]

She watched him as he stood upon what seemed to be a tower of infinite height and grandeur; in reality, the roof of Central HQ. She watched the silver pistol in his hand, as it were a shiny dagger of all in the world that would keep her whole world from falling apart. She watched his mismatched eyes as they stared calmly into the abyss, the abyssmal plain of those who'd defy RIOTE, below him, before her. And she was lulled into a false security, feigned comfort, and a feeling that all was well again. She had Aurel back. Hild may be gone; she accepted that. But she didn't have to accept it alone anymore. He was back. She was happy. Among a plethora of terrified frowns, cries of anger, and helpless fear, among the silent actions of trained military snipers, she smiled, and the spark of hope was restored in her heart.

Why could good things never last long? Maybe Fate just hated her. Destiny had it out for her, and all it wanted was to cause her pain. Maybe she'd done some wrong in life, and this was her unjust punishment, or maybe life just really wasn't fair. It didn't matter, because her smile was shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by a sense of intense dread, the moment he turned the silver pistol on himself. What was once a dagger of hope, one which would pierce the evil of the world, and what once gave comfort, knowing Aurel was safe, had now become twisted, distorted, broken beyond repair. No more a little dagger of goodness, the protector of all the world, was that gun; in the eyes of Nyx, it had become the knife of Juliet, the knife that would end it all.

When two are one, do two die as one? It seemed so, as the lead shattered the Night, midday. As eyes of fire and ice faded from the world, such did a pair of violet eyes. But as he died of a bullet, she was doomed to drown, drowning in the tears of sorrow. No... Not sorrow. When she'd stood still before Rebecca attacked, that was sorrow. This was anguish. The utterest of agonies. In a single moment, a single second of time, she felt all at once the flames licking at the feet of Joan of Arc, the spear that slew Achilles; she heard the screams and the gush of wind as she fell to her death a thousand times over, from the tallest of skyscrapers, and couldn't fall at all, as she felt the unmerciful kiss of a noose at her neck, a noose that fit all wrong, as if made only to cause her pain. In that instant, she cried out, "Why hath you forsaken me?," and at the same time, bore the silent pain of the fallen hero, who but could lie there, never having finished what she'd wanted to, knowing she'd failed to save the day, and merely waiting for the sweet embrace of the ice cold end, for the credits to roll, and for it all to be over.

And she thought all her tears were shed the first time Aurel went away to die.

As people in the croiwd slowly began to celebrate, amidst the confusion, and the military tried to restore some sense of order, or whatever they were doing, Nyx's suffering shifted; she wasn't grieving so much, as she was angry now. Why had he died for the world...? Why had he died at all? It made no sense. She tried putting a meaning to that bullet, but there was no meaning to it. It wasn't his fault, though. Amestris did this.

With that in mind, she raised Hemera and picked out her first target; cocking back an arrow, she set her sights on a man in uniform, looking important, and near the front of the crowd. She didn't know him, he'd done nothing to her. He was just an easy target, a pincushion waiting to be, a pincushion of released stress, frustration, and anger. But...

She couldn't do it. She released slowly on the drawstring, and hesitantly put the arrow back in her quiver, putting Hemera back to its place by her side. She just couldn't do it, it was that simple. She wanted to, needed to, but but couldn't. Maybe she just didn't want to see any more blood shed. Maybe she just didn't have the heart to do it. No matter why, she turned from the commotion and walked away, as tears fell once more. And then, as one of life's mysteries, perhaps, she looked up to see him.

A ghost? Maybe. An angel? Possibly. She didn't care, all that mattered to her at all now was that she could stare into those unique, calming, and comforting eyes again, and she felt safe once more. But he looked different... Younger. That was odd. "Hello. Is this 2012?" Not quite comprehending the question, she nodded nonetheless, and dried her eyes with her hands, before moving forward and hugging him. She had no idea where he planned to go, but she followed him nonetheless. She knew not a thing, but only that Aurel was back. And she was glad.

{EXIT THREAD}

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

Was this really his end? Was this all? Hans had wistfully hoped to die peacefully in his sleep one center of Central City, as RIOTE ravaged them. No. This is not what he had wanted at all. Yet he knew there was little he could do to stop this. He was growing steadily weaker, he could feel darkness creeping up at the edges of his vision. Alena had not given him any response... in fact, she left. He was going to die alone. In his office; in the ONE place he promised to protect. Amestris. He was failing them. He had not brought about the change they needed, and now he was going to die before he could see it through to the end.

Worse yet... he was losing her. Brigitte. His eyes blurred with hot tears. The one solid thing in his life. She always joked with him that he was a huge boulder; immovable and resolute. But she never really knew how much he relied on her. She was HIS rock and he would be lost without her. He prayed with every fiber of his weak being that she had made it out of Central safely... that while he died, she might live on. But it broke his heart, knowing that he wasn't able to say goodbye. Another Reinhardt cruelly torn away from this world. A few tears slipped down his cheeks as he thought about his daisy. His little Liese. Every day, he missed his daughter. And now... now he could see her again. But without Brigitte, what kind of life would the afterlife be?

He struggled and coughed, cringing as his wound continued to steal his life away. He turned his chair as best he could, so he could look out at his country. Amestris. He wanted to whisper his farewells, but he didn't even have the strength for that. He slumped in his chair, eyes drifting closed. One last strangled breath escaped his lips. As a gunshot outside signaled the end of one leader, another quietly passed in solitude.

The Chancellor was dead.

--------------------------------------------

...It was sudden. Hans expected the afterlife to gently lead him to the world beyond. But it felt like a jolt going through his system. His eyes flared open and he took a huge intake of breath. His eyes scanned the area around him, trying to understand. Everything was... the same. He was in his office. What kind of afterlife was this? Was he in Purgatory? He rose and winced as he did so. And if he was dead, WHY did his wound still hurt? As he thought about it, he realized it didn't hurt quite as much as before. He pulled up his shirt and ripped off the bloody bandages. There was nothing there! Well, not quite nothing. The gaping wound was gone and a ghastly scar remained. He half suspected that another scar was on his back.

Okay, what in the HELL was going on? He frowned and put two fingers against his arm. He pinched. Hard. He swore. That hurt. And he shouldn't feel pain if he was dead? Right? He moved up to stand at the window, pulling the blinds. His eyes widened as he watched. Central soldiers were pouring into Central HQ and he watched in the distance night. Or maybe beating back the demon hordes that threatened his country. But definitely not like this. Definitely not a slowly seeping wound in his stomach, in his conference room in the as others followed out RIOTE troops as they... retreated? Had they won? But this retreat looked too... planned. It wasn't fleeing from the enemy... it was if they had finished what they had set out to do. That didn't sit right with Hans. Not at all. But for the time being, it was enough. Amestris was still safe, just in a serious state of disrepair. Again. He wondered briefly how things fared at Briggs and hoped they were able to thrash down RIOTE.

Hans turned away from the window and took several deep breaths. He was alive. He couldn't really explain it, but he didn't really want an explanation at this point. He was just grateful for his life. He did feel... strange though. There was something new about him in this “alive” state. Something unfamiliar was coursing through his veins and he was not entirely sure he liked the sensation.

He was unable to dwell on it further because the door to his conference room burst open and Central soldiers flew in. They shouted exclamations to see him safe and unhurt. He smiled at them. “I'm glad to see you all are alright too. Can I borrow a phone? I need to call my wife.”

[END MISSION]

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