The First Age

Ivan listened to long-hairs' irritated explanation but his eyes were drawn by his gesture to the man with the bruises, recognition widening his eyes. He knew this man. The padre from the hospital. The man had healed him, somehow. Given that, an injury seemed odd on him. He wanted to talk to him, but first things first.

He turned back to long-hair and nodded at his explanation and began to pull his cuffs. There were witnesses and his testimony against the assailant would hold up. But suddenly the guy was rushing through the opening in the crowd to a young woman who seemed none too steady on her feet.

Everything moved quickly. The assailant tried to slip away into the crowd and for what was probably 1/25745ths of a second, Ivan thought about using the power. Buuuut that was a seriously bad idea and he knew it. This was not the place. He was here to keep the peace, not set off the crowd with some miraculous display. Instead he lunged at the guy before he got two steps, grabbed his collar, and spinning him around, got him to the ground, not hard, but still firm. "Going somewhere?"
he asked as he slipped the bracelets on.

The guy was in custody and cross-legged on the ground. The Padre looked ok for the moment and Long-hair was being solicitous of the girl so Ivan stepped up to them, gave him a nod of encouragement and then said to her, "You ok miss?"
She could be claustrophobic. He got that, remembering those trips into the tunnels, all that weight and mass over head. Inwardly he shuddered. Lord knew that this crowd was stifling.

To everyone else except long-hair, the assailant, and the Padre he spoke loudly. "Everyone move back! Please step back! Give the woman some space."

Jensen breathed a pained sigh of relief when Elias moved away. He tended to his friend, and even though Jensen sensed her anxiety, he yearned to slip away himself.

Ivan had recovered well from his injuries, Jensen noted as the officer arrested the man that punched him.

He touched his face again and winced, but didn't think anything was broken. He wouldn't press charges of only to avoid the attention.

He looked to the openings between the onlookers. His escape, the chance to slip away was his for the taking.

But he looked back to the young woman that helped him and his heart dropped for her. He followed in Elias' footsteps and also approached her.

"Excuse me. Thank you for helping me. Allow me to return the favor. Are you alright? If you're hurt, I can help."

Giovanni eyes search as another power drew up. This one was easier to follow as it was a moving target, and Giovanni quickly identified the man it belonged to. He was getting closer to the other power source. Then there was the second source.

Giovanni smirked at the slight panic that was caused as a woman fell. It was becoming overwhelming - the thought of chaos - of everything in this square succumbing to the fear that they felt.

But now wasn't the time. Caos might have been wanting Giovanni to claim his place. But this wasn't the time - nor was this the place for it. His kingdom would come - and it would come soon. Maybe it didn't exist in Moscow - maybe it was elsewhere.

So Giovanni resisted the urge to cause panic. It would be so simple. The weave Nox had used in the bar would suffice, but Caos was patient. Especially now that it was solidifying it's grip on the young man.

Two. Then an additional one lit up like flares in the night sky. He studied the sensation, and let his eyes roam to the location the energy radiated from. The sources were relatively close together, yet three distinct energies pulsed. If Michael was right, they could only sense male energy. There could be an untold number of female users out there. Their invisibility was dangerous. He reminded himself to double efforts to discover a physical anomaly to detect such a warp in the world. For now, he focused on one in particular. The first of the three to have been felt whispered to him like a taunt in his dreams. Marcus didn't seem to notice anything unusual, so Nikolai didn't elaborate.

Instead, he agreed with Marcus. "Yes. Go. When my speech and demonstration is complete, return as swiftly as you can. There is still the matter of the Atharim you're going to assist me with."

[[Hurray, evil Giovanni! *rubs hands with glee*]]

Despite how desperate Asha was to see the Ascendancy's address, she knew her limits. She could feel the dam overflowing, too much too fast, and she needed to seek solace before her ability to cope broke down completely. Elias was a storm cloud she only half saw, perched as she was, ready to turn and bolt. Then the world calmed at a touch. Blanked out completely, in fact. Her heart beat hard with the taste of her own panic and overstimulated senses. It gave her a chance to breathe freely. The gasp of the nearly drowned.

She could feel the perspiration on her face. Her skin was clammy and hot beneath her clothes, her hands clenched fists. Usually it would have taken extrication from the situation entirely to calm down. Asha had always been wary of the people who confounded her abilities - she didn't like not knowing, to have to rely on the uncertainty of expression and intonation. Now she realised what an oasis they could offer her.

She calmed herself with inanities. My name is Ashavari Mehra. I live in Moscow, above a bookshop. Forced her fingers to uncurl, her muscles to relax.

Then suddenly he was there again, the concern in his voice echoed in the waves of feeling that came off him. For once she was glad of the touch; it grounded her, chased out the peripheral emotions before they had the chance to sweep her away.

"It all came back so fast. That's never happened before."
She might have offered a more thorough explanation, but others hovered close by. One of them was empty; she knew that before she turned her gaze to stare at him. Curiosity intensified her expression, at least until he started ordering the crowd to move back. She hated the attention; all those eyes wriggling over her skin. From a child she'd been taught the importance of keeping a low profile - the caution was ingrained. But more than that she shied from the spotlight. Heat suffused her cheeks, burning all the way into her ears.

The other man approached, the one who'd been on the end of the cuffed Russian's fist. He was a strange mix of guilt and duty, tightly wound with a rare compassion. The throbbing pain of his cheek was a distraction, but she still found his words odd. "You could help?"
It was a strange thing to say, to offer. In fact she was not sure what it was he did offer. "But I'm not hurt,
" she clarified quickly. "Just..."
She glanced back at Elias, grasping for an answer. One that wasn't an outright lie. "Overwhelmed. And you're welcome."

He breathed a sigh of relief that she was okay.

"it is overwhelming isn't it? I'm glad you're ok. I think I'll be okay also. Do I look like I need a doctor? I don't think anything is broken. It just hurts."


He really didn't want to leave, although he'd rather avoid talking to Ivan if possible. He'd left him on uncertain terms. However, a bag of ice and some Advil would be wonderful right then.

Ivan gave the young woman some room, but she seemed improved in the last minute or two.

So Jensen turned to face the policeman, offering him a polite but timid smile. "Thank you for arresting that man. But I won't press charges. I like to avoid attention anyway."


It was a far cry from where he came, speaking before thousands of people two and three times a week.

So absorbed Jensen was in speaking with Ivan and the others, he didn't notice Giovanni. Not yet.

It wasn't much, but the cop was able to give Asha a little space. The punched guy returned, and his offer darkened Eli's expression with doubt. The guy was hardly in the kind of shape to be helping people. He needed to help himself.

Asha kindly rejected the offer. She was too open hearted. Ironic given how much she sensed of other people's hearts. It would do her some good to put herself first too. Doubtful she would listen to the suggestion anyway.

"She needs some time. She will be okay now."
He directed the answer to the punched guy, whose accent incidentally was of familiar drawl of Texan. In fact, he seemed familiar in general, but Eli couldn't place how he would know a Texan.

For his question, Eli had no answer. Despite his counter culture appearance, he'd never been in a physical fight before. If a doctor was needed, he had no clue. "You should ask the cop. I bet he's seen a black eye or two before."


When they were left alone, he turned to Asha.

"It's your Sentient thing, isn't it? Do you want to leave? I came to see Ascendancy but I'll take you."

The sky was a fine thing to Michael's eyes. He didn't even mind the cold, not that it got to him. He wore his finely embroidered coat of black that hung like a robe.

"Good to smell fresh air again,"
Rykovi said in his Oxford accent. His smile was the same; a smile that said he alone knew a great secret. However, now it held a sharp edge. He knew what he could do now.

It was written in the eyes of all of his students. Even Monserre who had been a trained soldier before his ascendance had changed. His ego had been deflated and replaced with a deep respect for the weapon he held. He was one of Michael's greatest successes. The Frenchman nodded at him as their eyes met.

Instinctively, Michael's attention was drawn to Taichechski and Petrovic who stood together as usual. In their orange-lined black CCD uniforms they looked at the world around them as a master would look at a slave.

I should have killed them when I had the chance, he thought fleetingly as they met his eyes with defiance. His own face was kept cool and disinterested. They hated him for it.

"Come,"
was all he said as he turned from the group. They knew their places. The Ascendancy had commanded it, and it would be done.

All of them held the Ascendant Power. Michael held only a fraction of his own while he let the others decide for themselves. Some strained their limits; he knew which ones, but it was not his concern for the moment.

Michael set a steady striding pace towards the Red Square. His students followed in perfect unison five paces behind him.

As the group approached the Square, filled with the multitudes of Moscow Michael felt a dreaded thought flow through his entire being. His gaze was reserved for Nikolai alone as the group strode to the back of the crowd.

So this is what you feel...

In that moment he hated Nikolai Brandon more than anything in the world. He knew how the smug tyrant felt. He knew it in his bones. This is what Nikolai believed, and now it hung in Michael's mind more dangerous than the Ascendant Power itself.

He felt like a God.

Damien Oakland stood in the heart of the Custody.

He used a minor glamour to distort his face enough so none would recognise him. He stood in the middle of the crowd, soaking in the essence of Light and power.

He had travelled to Moscow in secret as soon as the Ascendancy had made his declaration. He had spent too long in Mexico licking his wounds like a dog. The country was secure and Mexico City was purged of the corruption that had plagued it.

Now he had come to the heart of it all once more. It felt right. Besides, his Mockingbird had flown free once more. It was past time that the monster was put down for good.

A small smile tugged the edges of his mouth as the wind whipped his silky hair across his faux face.

He looked forward to seeing the great Ascendancy in the flesh. If he was anything like Damien, it would be a show he would not soon forget.


Edited by Damien, Jul 30 2016, 11:22 AM.

Malik smiled. Something to do with the Atharim? That sounded promising. Ascendancy was not going to give them time to regroup, obviously. In this game, you did not wait for the enemy to get up when you had them down.

"Of course."
He turned and left the Ascendancy's presence, seizing the Force as he did, mastering it into submission. As he made his way out of the battlement to the ground floor and onto the square, he drank deeply, to the full until he felt the dark energy pulsating as if it surrounded him, billowing off him just as the coat he wore did in the breeze.

The guards parted for him and he entered the maelstrom, dark eyes burning with black fire. He strode with purpose. Just off to the side of him he saw a group of men walking and he felt himself smile. No. Not just smiling. He was surprised to realize he was chuckling to himself. There was Vellas and the men from the Facility already making their way toward the crowd.

He angled so that he would be seen by the man. There was no love lost between them, of course. Ascendancy's use of the man was a necessity, though chafing at being used had radiated from him the last time they'd met. It amused Marcus to play Ascendancy's foil to him. But credit where credit was due. These men had been trained, that much was obvious. They walked with confidence in their power, a far cry from the meek and fearful, or angry, men he had seen so many months ago. He saw Ramanujan notice him and then incline his head respectfully. Marcus gave him the courtesy of doing the same.

This was going to be a day marked in the history books. The world was going to change.

Dismissing Vellas and the rest from his mind, his face hardened and he focused on the sense of menace ahead of him. Four of them now, somewhere in the crowd. Two were together. They had all come out for this. Marcus chose the one that radiated most strongly and headed in that direction, plunging into the crowd. Seeing the look on his face, people moved back and he passed through the now parted sea of people toward his destination.

It wasn't long before he honed in on the man who radiated the power, a weave of air and fire and earth and water around his face distorting his appearance. Even as Malik felt the power rage in him, beg and plead to be unleashed and ridden, Marcus filed away the weave intrigued. Bending light in this fashion was a novel use that could prove very useful. Later though.

He openly looked at the man, letting him see his curiosity. "Now that's interesting,"
he said, studying his 'face'. He saw how a weave of his own would shatter the illusion, but did not bother. Not yet.

The man was hiding who he was. Malik certainly understood that. And yet, he was here for a reason.

"Here to witness history?"