The First Age

The surrounding anger spiked in a sudden crescendo. Her hand squeezed as the emotion wormed its way in, testing the shelter Elias offered. Seconds later he yanked her out the way, and then...

Nothing.

She knew a moment of abject panic, before understanding settled in.

Usually when she sensed godlings, it was like a hole in a tapestry, or a missing piece in a finished jigsaw. Little pockets of emptiness. Touch amplified her senses; at times both a boon and a complication. Pressed this close, it was like her abilities ripped out at the root whether she chose to use Elias as an anchor or not. The sudden quiet made her blink. The world swam, removed.

It felt so wrong, this desolation.

So quiet.

Belatedly she realised that Nox had been right about Elias, and she glanced at his pale profile anew.

It didn't occur to her to wonder what he might be doing with his power. A sense of protectiveness had radiated from him before she'd lost contact (alongside a frisson of discomfort, though she hadn't chosen to dwell on that), and she trusted the instinct that made him feel safe. He'd followed her to Aria's place, after all, had given her money for a hotel room rather than leave her at the mercy of strangers.

Pulled her out of the way of a man felled like a fallen tree.

Disorientated by her loss of sense it took her a moment to piece together what had actually happened. Disquiet hummed in her veins. The only emotion she could feel was her own, despite the man she suddenly noticed laid out on the ground, shadowed by the tight crowd. Instead of drowning, Asha floated above. She couldn't feel him. Couldn't even tell if he was conscious.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?"
Robbed of her peripheral sense, she didn't think to glance at the man who'd thrown the punch, nor gauge the shifting mood around them. What she did consider was all the trampling feet, that if things grew more volatile he'd be lost in that sea before any of them could do anything. "Elias, help me get him up!"

One habit Nikolai noticed in Marcus was his penchant to describe every step in his logical critiques. As though he talked out his logic to better understand it himself. Internally, Nikolai held a similar monologue, but he kept his thoughts private. His plans were rarely shared until formed, and only then with his most trusted advisors. Marcus did not internalize as much, or at all, and to watch the workings of his mind was fascinating.

Especially as they agreed with Nik's own. "You are absolutely correct, Marcus. You really are the greatest Sigma I have had."


To speak to the crowd was one thing, but Nikolai needed to do more than address their fears. He needed to astonish them. To inspire them. Moscovites were extremely proud. Down to the poorest man, of whom there were few in the city, of their heritage. They loved dominating the world. They loved being the center of Earth. If the planet had a capital to greet aliens, it would be in Moscow. The rest of the world lived in their shadow. And Nik was about to make the mountain taller.

He spoke with security a few moments. Police walked the walls. Unseen from rooftops, the windows of the GUM department store, and from the walls of St. Basil's security was tightening around the Red Square. And somewhere out there the Atharim was gathering under Aria's bait and call. A storm was gathering, and it would be unleashed soon.

He was not going to wait much longer.

From the safety of darkness, he peered over the edge, studying the many headed crowd as he had that first day he took office as President of Russia. They chanted his name then. Similarly, men would be planted in the masses to do the same in a few minutes.

Not much longer. ...

But something. He felt it. That presence of another. A god below. But it was more than the dark menace that stretched toward them. It was familiar. Like the shadow of a shadow. Like seeing shadows cast by starlight.

"Do you sense that?"
He asked Marcus, eyes roaming for the source of the disturbance, yet strangely annoyed by it.

Which of the looming trees had been the attacker, Jensen couldn't tell. The world was spinning, and he kept squeezing his eyes closed every time he tested them enough to look. He'd never been hit before. Bad falls from the bike, but then he'd always worn a helmet. Hit in the skull by an errant basketball back in high school. But never a punch to the face.

Groaning, he tested the tender flesh, wincing once he found his face soft and immediately bloated. The brunt of it was absorbed by his cheek and not his nose, praise God. But it still hurt like the devil.

The bodies absorbed the attacker within moments. He was lost to anonymity, but thankfully, further violence did not erupt.

Jensen felt gentle hands urging him to his feet.

Asha froze. Not long, but for enough seconds that Elias noticed. She was overwhelmed, but safe. The idiot that punched a guy for bumping into him edged away.

Asha bent to help. The man on the ground was short and lean, especially compared to the thick, broad man that hit him. Elias' anger flared. Not from the injustice of an unprovoked attack, but from his own experiences with assholes who thought they were better than him.

Asha was asking for his help, but he wasn't going to provide it. Not in the way she expected.

"I'll be right back. Stay here."


He sent out tentacles of light, barbed and sharpened, whipping them before him as he stepped forward. To those in his way, they slapped at invisible stings on their arms and legs, only to look up and find Elias demanding them to move aside. They looked upon the dark-haired goth with wide, frightened eyes.

He quickly caught up with the attacker, not ten steps away. A whip of barbed light struck him across the back of the neck.

The Russian spun, growling anger and pain. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was facing.

He laughed at Elias, who in response, asked a question.

"Want to fight?"


He lifted his fingers, and a real beating began.

Chaos. The air was rife with it. Giovanni had heard The Ascendancy's message. Finally someone spoke of what they were. Someone had revealed that there were others among them. Others that were stronger - others that were better.

Giovanni exalted in the fear in the crowd. People were afraid, and they should be. Ascendancy was a god, just like Giovanni. And like a god, Nikolai Brandon arose to rule the known world. In the end all would bow. The Atharim wouldn't be able to stop them. No one would. The gods would arise and take what was theirs by right.

"Worshipped..."
Caos echoed in his head.

Giovanni felt the power coming from someone, and reflexively, he reached for his own. He wrestled the power within him and could feel it pulsing through him. His head turned searching for the source.

That's when he saw Jensen. That's when the internal struggle began again. He couldn't rule over people. Magic was meant to serve man, not rule over them. No...he deserved to rule...no it wasn't his place.

Giovanni was left with his internal struggle. The next few moments would decide his fate.


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Jul 27 2016, 09:37 AM.

Ivan left his car and walked into the square. The tension was palpable. A few officers and guards that milled about- some plain clothes and some in uniform- looked him over, assessing, and he showed the badge on his belt. They nodded at him and went back to their work. Emotions were running high and they knew it, knew what might happen. All it would take would be a spark to set it off.

He wasn't sure what he could do, but he had to do something. Be here at least. He wasn't quite as helpless as he had been with Volodin, between his practicing with Nox and on his own. It really did work like working out at the gym and he had felt himself get stronger as he practiced. He looked up at tower dominating the square, trying to imagine what it looked like from up there. Was Ascendancy up there now? What was the man doing? He'd dropped a bomb and was now silent. When would he do something?

He shook his head. He had a job to do. He reached out and seized the power, felt every sense go sharp. The tang of sweat and bodies and clothing filled the air, even as the roaring of the crowd became louder and more varied. He could hear snippets of conversation, of chants, of arguments, the to and fro of waves of people as they milled about. And something else. He was glad he was taller than most, so he could see more clearly over people's heads, searching.

There. And there again! He looked in both directions- and then decided. He set his face and waded into the crowd, broad shoulders buffeting against people, though thankfully it hadn't turned violent yet. Faces turned up at him but most turned away at a look. He wasn't angry but determination hardened his face. The moment he'd seized the power, the tell-tale menace of another like him caught his attention.

He continued on in the direction, homing in on the feeling. And there, ahead of him, was another tall man, close to his age with long dark hair and decked out as a goth. It wasn't the way the man was attired that got his attention. Moscow was a cosmopolitan city and he'd never had a problem with the way people dressed or their lifestyle. No, it was the fact that the power seemed to roil off him in waves, menacingly.

That and the fact that he seemed to be confronting another man. With the power, it would be short work, if it got to that. And it might just set off a riot. Just what they needed.

No. What they needed was for the heavens to open up and dump all over them, send these people home. Dampen the kindling that threatened to burst into flame. It was spring, but showers were common and he could smell and feel the moisture in the air.

He couldn't let things get out of control. He pushed his way forward until he stood between the two men. He didn't single out the Goth guy. You could never assume anything or take sides without knowing the facts. When you wanted to keep peace, you needed to keep everyone calm. Especially when one of them held onto the power.

He pulled his jacket aside and showed the badge as he shifted his gaze from one man to the other and back. "Let's all calm down here. What's going on?"



Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Jul 27 2016, 02:42 PM.

He struggled to his feet and kept his balance. The young lady helping him was of great assistance, but there wasn't time to spare her more than quick gratitude. The man she had been with whom she called Elias, blazed with power with such intensity that Jensen blinked with awe.

The young man tracked down his assailant. This was not what Jensen wanted! Against such power, the Russian had no defense. Elias was poised to strike him down when someone intervened.

Jensen came up beside him. "Wait! It's ok. This isn't necessary."
and he put a hand on Elias shoulder, urging him back.

As he came closer, he finally saw the face of the man that intervened.

A familiar face.

He gasped.

oh no..

Elias left. A reaction she hadn't expected. The abandonment stung, and then was drowned out under the deluge of her senses rushing back in. For a moment her legs felt coltish, threatening to dump on the ground under the sudden weight of the crowd. She felt the direction he went, his location made unique by his absence. But she had no idea why he'd done it.

Anger reigned. A flavour of Indignation. Then pain spiked brighter than everything else. Quickly followed by fear that rippled out like a stone dropped in a pond.

Gathering herself up, Asha tugged at the stranger's sleeve, wary of touching him. Mostly he seemed bewildered; captivated by his pain. But once the shock subsided she'd be vulnerable to his reaction. Abruptly, another blank spot flashed in the crowd. Asha flinched involuntarily, gaze flicking upward in its general direction. Then she grabbed the stranger's hand, braced to weather whatever may come. Another black spot bloomed, like they lit in reaction to each other.

The stranger found his feet, and left in Elias' wake. Asha drifted backwards, away from the rush towards the pain and fear and anger. Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic.

Elias looked to the hand on his shoulder, then to the calm face of the officer, and finally to the gnarled expression of the Russian.

They all wanted to avoid a fight. Even the man who was so unfairly punched in he face.

Were they all wimps? Lips pursed tight, he finally shrugged and lifted his hands in retreat.

The officer's question went unanswered, so Elias pointed out the nearby bruised and red face. "That's what's going on. This asshole needed to be taught a lesson. I was standing right there when it happened,"
he turned to point out the spot behind him. People had backed away as the disturbance unfolded, and he had a clear line of sight to Asha.

"Asha?"
He hurried back to her, forgetting about the others. Her pallor made him look tanned. Wide eyes were frantically searching.

He touched her on the arm, rubbing it slightly. She looked like a diabetic having a sugar crash. "Hey what's wrong?"
Had he yanked her too hard? Was she sick?

He released the power, and focused on her completely.

Marcus inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. While Ascendancy might actually mean it, there was probably an element of flattery as well. Marcus was young, after all. But given that it was also true, it did not lessen it, or the feeling of pride. Both jealousy and pride in being recognized were not incongruous things.

The mood of the crowd continued to grow, from the sound of it, a shifting roaring that reminded him of ocean waves, roiling about this way and that. Something tickled his memory. Ah yes, Mrs. Swerlin and her incessant Bible reading schedule. Malik's eyes darkened for a moment at the memory and he let it wash over him, let the emotion pass. When it was done, the memory came clear. "But the wicked are like the tossing sea, which cannot rest, whose waves cast up mire and mud."


It was a sea, a sea of people. He looked at Ascendancy expectantly. He was in a suitably Old Testament mood now. Images from Exodus flashed across his mind and he smiled darkly, imagining what the man might do, what he would do. Pleasure threaded through him at the thought. He could almost imagine the sense of awe and dread and fear that he could create. He could even feel it.

Ascendancy's words cut into his thoughts. "Do you sense that?"
Marcus stopped- and then realized what he'd been feeling. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in thought. He focused.

"Two....no. Three out there. Varying strengths."
He looked at Ascendancy. Obviously, they were here for a reason, though what they were...

"Do you wish me to...descend and check it out?"
He would be circumspect, of course. No sense in setting off a riot down there.


Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 28 2016, 10:22 PM.