He thought all this cartel shit was behind him. It was a weak thread to pull, but dammit Jay’s sanity was hanging by it.
Cayli. His dad. Mom. The explosion of a gun. The spray of blood. Natalie’s face, sweaty and dirty, next to die. Utterly powerless to save her, twisted by the desire that Zacarías just get it over with and finally end it all. His chest tightened into a cage; his ribs frozen to steel. Breath was hard to swallow. Placaso’s laugh, and the drip of that fucking water, rang in his ears.
"Carpenter!”
Jay blinked.
His palms curled to fists to hide their shaking, but Michael’s voice was a guide through the dark. The power was a void of peace, he realized, and focusing on it diminished the panic.
His voice was gravelly and tight. “If you want to test Amengual’s loyalty, force his hand, and show him my face.”
He returned Reed's smile. Her reputation was not disappointing. Few could act so calm around their kind, talk about what they could unleash, so easily and with humour, no matter how dry and Michael did not think she was ignorant enough not to know what they were capable of. "Thank you, it was a wise decision, but I would not worry overmuch about one man storming this place. There are dozens here adept enough to fight back."
He sighed. Now was not the time for banter. "Bah, so be it. I will send for the other Rods of Dominion that are here, and we will meet this Matias. Please order your men to escort him. You may come or go as you please. I know the Ascendancy places great trust in you."
He then turned back to Jay. He still remained sympathetic but there was steel in his tone that would not brook any arguments. "Then you shall be present with the other Rods if you can vow that you will not provoke or attack him. This man is an emissary, not here to fight. I do not know exactly what happened, but I can tell it was hard on you. No bloodshed unless the man attacks us, understood?"
Rare was the occasion when Reed’s opinion was sought. She suppressed the sarcasm that threatened to bubble up, and left, shooting one last glance at Jay before doing so. Damn, but he reminded her of Trano. Weird.
He felt calmer having followed Michael’s suggestion. It reminded him of the tactical meditation taught in MARSOC training. A breath in, holding the air on four-count, complete the inhalation and hold another four-count; exhale, hold, finish exhalation, hold. Repeat. Breathe. Hold. Breathe. Hold. The ritual was oddly calming. Tactical breathing originally sounded like bullshit, but it helped Jay’s sharpshooter marks go way up, and afterward, he was hooked.
It felt like a lifetime ago when he believed he could breathe his way through hell. Mens sana in corpore sano. And he had, in the moments before and after close quarter action. And a thousand other times. Each time it worked. Until it stopped. It wasn't a mystery why.
He closed his eyes, pouring all the buzz of unspent energy into the power itself. It was like tossing feelings into an incinerator and watching them burn. The tension on the air slowly dissipated, and with it, Jay’s grip on the power. The incinerator did its work, and with an oddly flat expression, he witnessed Agent Reed’s departure.
“So sworn.” He replied to Michael, once more in control.
In short order, the Rods assembled at the gate, four in total standing shoulder to shoulder. Each man was in uniform and each waited with their own posture and displayed their own level of formality. It wasn't a requirement, but they had fallen into a habit of military stances much like Jay during such scenes. Jay himself stood at sincere attention, expression strict and eyes tight.
Like the others, they stood ready to seize hold of the Power at the slightest command of their leader.
((any of the other Rod characters can join. Didn't specify who was present))
Mat passed the time idly scrolling wallet feeds. He checked in with friends back home, informing them that he was waiting to meet with an elusive someone. His messages to Damien, however, took on a more formal tone. Curious about the uncertainty of his location, he scrutinized maps to try and decipher his location, only to find satellite imagery oddly misrepresenting the area as undeveloped. Perhaps the map was out of date or perhaps the satellites conveniently swung wide of their location. It was a discrepancy eerily reminiscent of the oddities around his father’s factories. This sense of déjà vu deepened when a uniformed, armed man strode in, and Matías murmured to himself, “at least one thing is familiar.”
Rising, Mat consciously moderated his stance to appear non-threatening, mindful of the armed presence.
The guard, of medium stature with a buzzed cut typical of the military, addressed him, “Mr. Amengual. Thank you for your patience. Please follow me.”
Navigating through the building's stark, functional corridors, Mat was oddly fixated on the guard’s attire, unmistakably Custodian in design. It felt surreal, being ensconced in the heart of such a vast empire. It was as if the guard sensed his scrutiny, turning abruptly to give Mat a piercing look.
Emerging into the chill, Mat regretted not owning a coat, having planned to purchase one upon reaching Moscow. Instead, he found himself whisked off to this secluded military site.
He slowed considerably when he realized the group that had gathered to greet him, advancing cautiously afterward.
Approaching the assembled group, Mat’s pace slowed, his approach wary. The armed, vigilant guards mirrored the security of his childhood, yet it was the line of imposing men that captured his full attention.
Suddenly, Matías stiffened, staring into the distance for about twenty seconds, eyes unblinking and posture tense. It ceased as abruptly as it commenced, leaving Mat to regain his poise.
The visions that passed him in that moment featured almost every single person in view, spreading across hundreds of different possible futures that stretched for long lengths of time. Meeting Damien in person was the only comparable experience, but he was only one man, and here were seven.
A brisk wind whipped through, ruffling his hair and flapping the open collar of his inadequate white shirt. Dressed without a uniform or any emblematic attire to denote his role within the CCD, he stood in his most composed attire, hands buried in his trouser pockets.
About to speak, Mat’s attention was hijacked by an unexpected figure among the Rods of Dominion.
"Jay Carpenter?"
The man's entrance was as dramatic as one expected. Never before had there been such an...official...meeting between those of the Power. Michael would very much like to meet Damien Oakland, who could produce such congeniality in Nikolai Brandon. Then again, the man was not impatient. Too many conflicts would destroy the Custody. So, for now the Cartel Destroyer was an ally, and his protégé was here at Michael's doorstep.
He watched the man closely. Jay feared him for some reason, and that was reason enough to be cautious. The other Rods of Dominion stood at the ready in their formal wear. Michael himself wore a heavy black coat with blue and silver embroidering. As if on cue, the man had a similar reaction to seeing Jay. Michael wanted to sigh. Things could never be simple with Nikolai Brandon's whims.
He frowned as the tension needed to be cut. "The very same. However, it is I you are speaking to now. My name is Michael Vellas."
"Someone get the man a coat, he looks frozen," he continued, as one of the soldiers jumped to go find some heavier clothing. "The Ascendancy bids you welcome, Matias. Here is where those who can wield the Power gather to learn, something the Ascendancy wished to show you, as part of the cooperation between us."
He glanced at Jay. "I am led to believe that you have encountered one another before. If you both cannot keep the peace, I will be forced to take action. This place is a safe haven for people like us."
Matías Amengual was previously only a face in a file. According to intelligence, Andres was alone in the compound the night the Raiders descended, but they were briefed on the details of his immediate family, but they had to know the family in case one showed up. And one did. The team did not anticipate a child to be on site, a teenage girl that years later would die from the bullet shot by Jay’s own hand, Andres’ niece.
Back on US soil, Jay’s discharge came quick, before he could learn the cartel’s fate. He flew home to Iowa disgraced and discharged, the only source of update coming from headlines. In the aftermath of Andres’ demise, a power vacuum ensured and his immediate family was killed by underlings attempting to take over until Zacarías emerged victorious. Any trace of Matías vanished after that; Jay had grimly hoped he lay forgotten in a ditch somewhere.
Eyes glued to the figure that exited the building, Jay saw only slight family resemblance. The curve of the jaw. The stature of his shoulders. The capacity for unspeakable evil.
Nobody reacted much to the strange stillness that swarmed Matias’ expression. He glanced at Michael, but he didn’t seem to notice, and he put the oddity from his mind. They locked eyes, Matias recognized him in turn, and the burn of hatred flew across his expression.
Sensing the tension, Michael ordered him to stand down, but Jay’s record at following orders wasn’t exactly golden.
He waltzed straight past his commander without even an ounce of power active and took a swing. Matias’ crumpled at the blow.
“Matías Amengual.”
[[Mode with permission]]
He should have known what was coming considering Jay's military career however, Michael did not act immediately as he sensed no use of the Power and he was sure that Jay was not one to throw away his life killing an official Ambassador. It did make him wonder though. If it had been a knife would he have been able to stop it in time? Another lesson to ponder.
As soon as Matias crumpled, he held up a hand to stop the other Rods from embracing the Power and filled himself with it, almost to his full strength. He spun a simple web of Air and swung hard and fast, a club beating at Jay's head causing his eyes to roll up and drop just as he did to Matias. Michael was careful not to hit too hard. He didn't want to kill the man. It was a shame, he thought he could get along with Jay. He hoped the man was not one to hold grudges. "Sanjay, please help Matias, give him a little wake up, even if we can't heal him," he spoke to the Indian man who nodded and made his way to Matias.
"Julian, Samuel, would you kindly take Jay to the cells. Set some of the students to watch over him and bring him some paracetamol. Let the headache be a lesson," he commanded and the other two Rods obeyed, Samuel somewhat sheepishly, Julian with a snicker.
He sighed under his breath, still holding the Power and a web ready to deter Matias from any foolish retaliation and knelt by the man's side. "My apologies, Jay is one of the Ascendancy's Nine Rods and has a right to be here," technically Michael could have told him to stay away, but he did not like ordering the Rods unless absolutely necessary. Besides, as Jay had said it would be a good test upon seeing his face. "If you require healing, please let me know. Now, shall we start over?" It wasn't exactly a question but there was genuine sympathy in his voice.
[Mode with permission. Sorry for the headache.]
He reeled at the blow. The sensation was jarring, and Matias felt it in his mouth and teeth. He hadn’t reconciled the shock of it before the pain began to throb. His cheek and eyes burned, and upon stumbling, he turned back with a furious glare. The enchanted power swirled into his grasp like a hurricane, but Michael Vellas was swifter. Jay dropped unconscious, and Matias’ surge of anger went unresolved.
He would not attack a fallen man, so he turned the heat of the moment to Michael, voice justifiably raised. “This is how you treat a guest in your house? I did not ask to come to this place, but I came as requested. Your apology is not enough. Get your people in control, or I will make sure the Ascendancy hears about the state of your command.”
By this point, his cheek was flared bright red, and he released the reflexive summons of the enchanted power. The volume of his voice returned to normal. “I will accept a healer if you have one,” he said as he moved onward from the fallen Jay. He was not sure where to go, but as he began to walk, the others joined.
Michael was just as ready to strike down Matias as he had done with Jay. In this close proximity, none of the present Rods dared to take hold of the Power knowing better than to step into crossfire. He had already prepared several webs that would ensnare whomever he chose and deliver an unpleasant shock. Jay had been fortunate that he did not want to demonstrate any complex webs for the foreigner to learn, should he be so capable.
As it was, the tension was cut by Matias and Michael immediately relaxed and adopted a duly placated expression. He thought himself an adequate judge of character when it came to men who could use the Ascendant Power, and whatever Jay saw must have been personal, the man did not ooze danger like Petrovic did. Punched in the face and he threatened to run to Nikolai? My thanks, Carpenter.
He allowed Matias to remain his stalk forward into the base, noting irritably that the coat requested had not been delivered. How hard could it be to find a coat in the damn place? "The history between you and Jay Carpenter is not my concern, in light of what has happened I shall have to re-evaluate my lenience," Michael replied mildly to heated words as he resumed walking, the other Rods following. Michael still held onto the Power, ready to burn anyone who disobeyed. The whole thing was a mess already. "We shall go to the forth building on the right, our medical facility has all you need, we have the best doctors in the Custody."
The crunch of gravel underfoot was the only noise that accompanied the group. In the distance students could be seen staring at the procession only to quickly go about their studies. In various clusters small amounts of the male Power was detectable but faint compared to what Michael held. It was a warning as much as anything that told the students to stay away. "I must say I am curious to hear about Mexico. It seems that Damien Oakland has achieved great things. I would hear more of that - but sometime later perhaps." They reached the infirmary where regular military-assigned doctors served to treat the population. Those few that could use the Power to heal were not wasted on trivial tasks. There were two men in beds, one seemed recent from the look of his singed hair. The other was an older man who looked like a ghost. He had tried to spin a complex web of Water which only served to fill his lungs with fluid, almost drowning him. Fortunately he was recovering, with a little help from the Power. "Well, Matias, since my apology is refused, I shall have to strive to show you our hospitality - and knowledge. That is why you are here, no? A gesture of cooperation and peace. Tell me, do you have a talent for any particular feat of the Power? Like Healing, or perhaps an affinity to one of the five powers?"