Understanding [Open]

[Dai]

"AAAARRRRRGH!"

The door was blasted open, almost creaking on its hinges as the male pushed his way into the room. His breathing was heavy, ragged, sharp, powerful. Long wisps of icy breath escaped out from in between his lips, the man's deep red eyes closing as he stood in the middle of that room. At one point, he had shared it with Murazar Dauthi--though that was no more, and the room belonged to him and him alone. His face was stained a deep red; he had been crying for quite some time now, the ducts really only recently having dried up completely and totally, leaving him crying dry shouts. Why did this have to happen like it did?! He could've saved her. He could've saved her.

He should've saved her.

So why didn't he? Was it because he was locked in that elevator, with no way of getting out? No, he was capable of ripping metals like that to shreds with little effort; a simple elevator would be no issue for someone like him. So, what was it that had him paralyzed with fear until he heard the fateful words? Was he scared of RIOTE? Scared of dying? Was that fear greater than the fear of losing her? He didn't know. For the first time in a very long time, Daigoro Ito wasn't just angry. His anger couldn't be measured quite so simply. What he felt at that point in time was pure, unbridled rage.

He cursed himself, for not being able to act.

He cursed RIOTE for taking her from him.

He cursed Drachma for allying with such cruel beings.

He cursed Briggs for not doing anything about it.

Yet, he would not curse Reila. Even though it was her choice, it wasn't enough for him to curse her. He felt the presence of that small, blue velvet-covered box in the back of his mind, and slowly turned his shaking body to view the drawers where he knew that it was. Stumbling over his steps and breathing deeply, the man with the ripped and bloody clothing approached the stand, placing his hands upon it and breathing out. The top draw slowly slid open, and a box was shown standing very plainly in an empty drawer. "Will I... get to give this to you? Will I... get to receive an answer?" He swallowed back his words, placing his forehead onto the top as he slid the wooden thing shut. A weight on his right hip finally reminded him of its presence, and he reached down. A large sheath was unhooked from his uniform; and the golden thing was placed upon the second bed with care, Dai taking it in in its entirety. Gold-and-blue adorned the sheath itself, intricate designs spreading up this thing that appeared to be more for appearance than function. Gripping the blue hilt with his right hand, he pulled with a sigh; the weapon giving relatively easily as it slowly slid out with a metallic sound and into the dim light of the room.

Under the light, Daigoro could see... nothing. Nothing was there after the hilt, yet he was sure that he felt something when he pulled. His left hand lowered itself down to where he was sure that the blade was, and he placed tentative fingers upon the invisible material. Yes, there was definitely a sword there. It was what had knighted hi--

"I can see the pain in your eyes. I can see that your path has had nothing but pain and regret," he recalled the words she'd spoken to him as if she had etched them into the very back of his brain, repeated over and over again, "You fight, but you only have one cause in mind to fight for. She is gone from your vision now, so you fight to destroy yourself. Fight to save what you can. I can see the honor that you possess. You bested me, so I grant you my power... Knight of Red." She was of the enemy. She should've killed him, yet she gave him this sword and killed herself instead. He slowly placed the sword down upon the bed, turning away. She had given him a name of this weapon as well. Excalibur. The Promised Sword of Victory. Sighing softly, he took a few steps towards the door and planted tentative fingers upon its material, pushing it shut and locking it. He turned back to the middle of the room and sighed quietly. A hand went up and gripped the material of his uniform, sliding it off and down his body. Everything dropped to the ground, and his slender figure was left standing naked in the middle of the room as he walked over and towards the bathroom. Closing his eyes briefly, he shut the door behind him and started up the shower before catching his own gaze in the mirror.

Ah, right. He'd lost his hair. Or, at least, a good chunk of it. He'd need to cut it a bit better, make it so that it wasn't as rough; he could do at least that for himself. However, that would be left until after his shower, the male slowly stepping in. He would need to speak to the soldiers at some point as well, though again, that could wait until later. Closing his eyes briefly, Daigoro Ito stepped into the heat and felt it wash over his entire body. His muscles ached from the day's events, and that heat was causing some of the aching to carefully fade into nothing. Sighing at his misfortune, Dai leaned carefully against the wall of the shower with a solemn smile on his lips, having finally calmed himself enough to think straight. He had been so angry. Rage had clouded his vision. He hated that. He hated being so angry. "So I shall no longer be angry." A simple decision had been made. Sure, it wouldn't be easy--but he would try his best. He turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel tightly around his waist and standing in front of a mirror with a sigh.

Quickly pulling out a pair of scissors, the man raised them up and swallowed slightly. It should be alright. With a few practised cuts and some movements with his fingers, he had his hair looking relatively styled and okay. That was good enough for him. Walking back into his room and drying himself slowly, he walked over to his drawers and hunted through them for something certain. A red shirt was put upon his chest, buttoned up and fixed with a black tie, a cross on its widened base. After his underwear came khaki pants and a khaki suit jacket, which were worn relatively loosely. He closed his eyes and breathed out, putting socks and shoes on before walking back to his door and taking one last look at his room, lips curling into a soft smile. They moved to speak hidden words as the door creaked open and Dai walked out into the hallways, looking to his sides with a forced smile on his face. He'd make sure that he did he best.

I'll save you. I swear.

[Guest]

Jethro William Black stood atop the icy fortress the world knew as Fort Briggs. At one point it had been called unconquerable, Invictus in the old language. Yet but a few days ago that name had been put the test, and Briggs failed. Now when the smoke cleared and the sun rose over the fortress, Amestris stood victorious. But if it hadn't been for the sacrifice of two noble souls, RIOTE would currently hold Briggs in its cold hands. Black was in his Generals uniform that he enjoyed wearing for its warmth and comfort in the freezing North. The Generals demeanor was not that of his rank however. His shoulders sagged, his head hung low, his body seeming to be tired and weary. Jet leaned against the railing, his gloves tightly death gripping the cold metal.

Sadness gripped his heart, knowing that far too many lives had been lost. Even under his command this had happened, and yet Central had appointed him to work alongside Lt. Colonel Ito in rebuilding Briggs. He'd even been named temporary Commander, his right as Second in Command. Everything inside him disagreed however. He felt unworthy to hold the rank of Head of Briggs, even if only for a few weeks. This position had been held by one of the most powerful, intelligent, and enjoyable person Jet had ever met. She had made 'survival of the fittest' true in every sense of the phrase, and was the perfect fit for Briggs. Black on the other hand, was not. He knew that this way of thinking wasn't good for him, but in times like this positives were hard to find. A warm draft hit the Knight as the thought of his beloved hit him, and the words she told him. They gave him strength, something he direly needed. With a smile making its way into his features, his grip loosened on the bar.

Looking across the icy wasteland in front of him, he did not see an empty tundra of snow and rock, he saw his home. And his home, their home, was missing it's Matriarch. Time to get her back. Standing tall and looking once again like the man the soldiers of Briggs knew, he turned on his heels and walked to the nearby door, a new-found strength in his stride. Going to his quarters he nodded to the men and women as he walked, seeing in their eyes defeat, despair, and most of all, anger. Many wanted payback for what happened, pure and simple vengeance. Yet wasn't that what provoked Drachma to attack us in the first place? Revenge was a wicked and never ending circle, but Jet would give in one more time. Because the goal this time was worth the sacrifice.

Reaching his room and closing the door behind him, he undressed and began quickly put his armor on piece by piece. A few moments later it was not just Brigadier General Jethro Black who walked out of the room, but the Black Templar of Briggs as well. One and the same, he carried both titles with pride. His sword sheathed and at his side, Jet strode through Briggs to the Command Room, many of the soldiers following him inquisitively towards his destination. This Knight didn't put on his battle armor as often as he used to, and the residents of Fort Briggs knew this. Something was about to happen, and they wanted to know what.

Walking through the door, Jet felt a blast of warmth from the equipment stretched across the room. Some of it had been damaged from the recent battle, but most of the machines had been repaired and fixed. Smiling to the men and women in the room, he made his way to the comm center and said "Set me up, I need this across all of Briggs." Working quickly, the techs got everything up and ready within seconds. Handing him the microphone, he said "Thanks guys, patch me through." A millisecond later a loud beep bounced off the walls of Fort Briggs, signaling the activation of the base wide speaker system. "Good afternoon my fellow Amestrians. Everyone except essential and security personnel on duty must report to the main hall. I have some important announcements and it is best to make them in person. That is all." Handing the mic back to the tech, one of the men decided to be bold and ask the million dollar question. "Sir, why are you gathering the men?" Jet chuckled, put his hand on the mans shoulder and replied "Simple my friend, we have a rescue mission to attend to."

[Iris]

The walls that Iris normally patrolled had been forced into what was left of the medic's area. Didn't she feel like such a twat. She'd been caught up trying to meet everyone, but the fire.. it had been in the way. First and a few second degree burns liked at spots on her face and arms. Splotches of white patches, white bandages and Iris felt like a mummy. Her whole body ached and then her heart. It seemed, Murazar was gone and not only that, even the woman whom picked Iris to join Fort Briggs in the first place had been taken to Drachma. Though, it wasn't against her will, it still burned a bad taste in the paper woman's mouth. A rage that made her just want to cry out in despair. There were so many around her though, including the old friend she had. He'd been shot, his body nursing better near her. She prayed he'd get through this, and hated herself for not having any sort of healing capabilities. Small bits of blood crept from sprayed wreckage after cold had hit the fire. Somehow.. Just somehow, she had survived it with only moderate injuries.

How had she even lived? She couldn't aim for her life and she'd been caught in a fire that spread faster than disease. Speaking of which.. She covered her mouth and looked over the both sick and injured. So few seemed to be around now. Was she useless? She was supposed to defend these people and barely came out alive with her own head still on and only a handful of injured men (And women). Her suit was burnt and singed from the rampant fire. Ugh, this day- could it get worse? She trudged to the dorms. A long walk to see if maybe, just maybe her friend was there. It was useless hope. She'd lost two of the more important people of Briggs. It wasn't like she was close to anyone else. Shaky sighs aside, she nearly reached the room to find that a man with blazing red hair was walking out. Pain. There was pain all about him and the door was busted open from what she could see.

"The maintenance people are either going to be really happy, or very pissed off." She attempted to lighten the situation before her eyes dipped and she sighed softly. Her hand pointing half-hearted towards his door. "You know, because.. the door?" Har har. Very poor conversation ideas, Iris. What was it that stung at her eyes? Tears BAH! Iris didn't cry, she was stronger that. She had to be, after all. Though, her heart spoke of her failure it the most irritable ways. She had a hit to her self esteem and indeed the blow was one of the most incredibly painful ones. Yeah, she looked dumb as the man walked right by her. Oh well. She'd tried. Her eyes fell more. He needed to lose the fake smile..

She'd reached the room and glanced it over twice, before coming to the dreaded conclusion. He wasn't there. He probably wouldn't come back. Her heart sank and she looked away. Oh well. Shit like this was meant to happen in life. Turning around to gaze around the hall, she found footsteps leading her towards the main hall. The intercom buzzing with life. Hopefully she could find it, without looking utterly ridiculous. She'd been warned on the voice, Brigadier General Black as he were, was known for lugging on for hours with neverending speeches that often bored the other offices. "Good afternoon my fellow Amestrians. Everyone except essential and security personnel on duty must report to the main hall. I have some important announcements and it is best to make them in person. That is all." She'd just assume she wasn't either of those, since she'd technically be 'recovering'. Fuck that. She couldn't just lounge around on her ass while some minor scrapes and burns had to heal. She'd do what she could, whatever it were.

Upon reaching there, the pink-haired woman sidled into a seat, far away from herself. Her self-esteem. It mocked her even then, where she couldn't look anyone in the face. Had she died.. she'd be a number like all others. In the military there were hardly times where numbers were outlined by the names of a person whom had been sitting in the seats. She wasn't the only one there, spare a few others. The pink of her eyes simply flowed along the faces, blankly, weighing their injury. A cough from her mouth and she was staring at the walls again. Maybe some good news? Nothing would be good enough to lift the shambles of this wreckage.

[Murazar Dauthi]

Murazar… Murazar was immensely pissed off. His seething frozen rage was completely visible upon his face. The one person he owed and was technically under in terms of command was taken. His friend and employer. Blasted woman gave herself up. Should have been me who did that, im worth nothing compared to her. What am I really? Hired help? Untrustworthy assassin and spy? I’m no true leader, just one who fits the moment when no one else can do it. His thoughts were low with survivors guilt and depression. The souls screamed in his mind louder than ever before. He was dressed in pure black attire, form fitting and with a skull cap to cover his hair entirely.

Only thing that showed in terms of skin was his face. Body armor with ammo, grenades, his rifle and pistol were also attached to him. He walked in the direction of jet whom was nearby as the announcement went off. He already knew what jet was going to do. Not because of some super secret microphone or recorder or anything crazy. He simply knew how the man was in terms of action. No one in the facility was just going to let Ayden and Reila stay captured. Murazar had also caught a lucky break; he had information of a possible location of the facility where Reila and Ayden could be held at. It was something which was always better than nothing.

He showed up at jets side and held out a small ipad-like device that was showing the eagles-eye of a facility that appeared active in terms of thermal movement. He started speaking right away in his normal icy calm manner. Although it seemed far more freezing than normal. ” I found what appears to be the nearest facility the drachmans seem to control that was in their fallback pattern. From the recent movement it seems this is the only likely place they would be holding General Tsukino and General Derocha. “ Then in a lower tone, just by a hair as if it was not really a secret but something more personal. His mechanical eyes lighting up with an intensity rarely seen. ” I am technically a mercenary under Reila’s sole command. Technically our contract is over since she is no longer in a position to pay me, I would rather that situation be corrected personally by myself and my deniable operations team going in to retrieve her and General Derocha. You can either send us under command or we’ll go dark and do it anyway.”

The look about him highly suggested going along with his insanity and his team’s insanity instead of worsening the already insanely bad idea. In terms of ideas it was probably a good long term idea to let someone who was just going to vanish if Reila wasn’t back in command anyway. After all it was like having a free team leader on your side that happened to be extremely proficient at his profession that happened to be in favor of the current situation. He hoped Jet saw this and took the offer, he just didn’t know if Jet would also assign more “volunteers” with his team. He figured Daigoro would not take this lying down; the man was passionately in love with the woman. He almost both pitied and sympathized with the man.

[Dai]

A feminine voice reached his ears, but he did not heed their words. His eyes were focussed on their direction forwards, and the man had neither eyes nor ears for anything else along those lines. Sighing quietly to himself, he stopped for a second, slowly turning back to see the door with shaking eyes. For a second, a shadow of the self that was truly in control right now would flicker onto his face, but he would return to his walk back towards directions unknown. "Good afternoon my fellow Amestrians." Unlike the voice of the woman, this voice caused him to stop and look up. It was the intercom, and he was listening to the voice of Jethro Black, was he not? His face was still sombre as he thought about the pain that everyone had gone through. "Everyone except essential and security personnel on duty must report to the main hall. I have some important announcements and it is best to make them in person. That is all." Hm. He figured as much; it didn't exactly take the personnel of Briggs long to prepare themselves for something like this. Sighing quietly, he prepared himself to continue walking, but stopped himself in his tracks. "I should look proper. I think..." Turning around, his footsteps slowly carried him to his room--he would willingly take his time.

He slid in through the door of his room and approached the closet with closed eyes. He had been sent this in the mail recently; though for what reason he did not know. It came from Aerugo--a letter was included that he hadn't quite gotten around to reading. He would do that once Reila had gotten back. Mm. Sighing quietly, he gripped the black cloth and flung it around his shoulders, the black cape with gold edging accentuating the khaki color of his suit. He would quickly look at himself in the mirror and wonder exactly who he was looking at--this was not the Daigoro Ito that he was before the war, and yet he looked almost... right. Closing his eyes and swallowing slightly, the man would walk over to the bed with the sword upon it. He gazed upon the invisible sword once more, sighing softly. This would become his--it was granted to him. Reaching down, the male gripped the hilt of the weapon and held it up, trying to weigh it to find exactly where the tip was. Holding it in his left hand, he dragged an automail finger slowly down the blade until he found where the point tapered into. That point was then easily slid into the opening of the sheath itself, a metallic noise being made as the weapon moved back into place. He was really going to need to work out a way to make that sword visible.

Finding the correct place to hook it onto his clothing, Daigoro Ito turned around and looked in the mirror once more. This strange feeling... sigh. "Let's do this." Walking out of the room, Dai would begin his trek to the main hall, passing through empty corridors. It was likely that he was going to be the last one to arrive, though people would most likely expect that. After what had happened, they probably wouldn't be surprised if he didn't arrive at all to this meeting. Part of him didn't want to go, but he knew that he had to. So as he finally approached the doors to the main hall, but hesitated. He stood there, deliberating over whether or not he really wanted to walk through those doors and hear exactly what he had to hear. He wondered if it would be worth it--she could already be de--no. No thinking like that. A frightful and unknown expression appeared in the eyes of the male which had now sharpened immensely; and Dai would suddenly plant hands on them both and push them open, walking in to a room that had suddenly turned silent and looked backwards. Not recognizing the male standing there, they turned back to Jet. Of course. Walking past them, he would approach the head with a fixed gaze and take a place standing next to both he and Murazar, just as he heard a lowered voice.

"--situation be corrected personally by myself and my deniable operations team going in to retrieve her and General Derocha. You can either send us under command or we’ll go dark and do it anyway." Sighing softly, Dai looked away as if pretending that he hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Well, I'm here. What's going on?" His voice was flat, emotionless, hiding away whatever pain he was feeling inside with a deadpan expression and voice. "I vote we wait a few days. We're not ready to mount a rescue operation." Shifting slightly, Dai felt the small red bead that was locked in his automail shift with him. "We can't afford... to be hasty. As much as... I would like to run this sword right through Aurelius' skull." A flicker of emotion--rage--and then he returned to his deadpan mask once more. He wondered if anyone knew exactly how much pain he was in right now; how much he was holding back from simply taking a small army and marching them down... how much he just wanted to get onto his knees and scream away his rage into the night.

[Csilla Angelis]

{BUMP}

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