The First Age

Drowning. The imagery wafted as he contemplated the word. Asha struggling to breathe. Attempting to maintain her sense of self while a million emotions swirled, pulling her under.

"You should have told me,"
his voice was harsh. She clung to him like a buoy. His walking away might as well have been water boarding. If he had known otherwise..

In her struggles she identified more holes. Many. Elias didn't need to be told. He knew as fully as she did. Probably more so.

They jumped out of the crowd like dolphins following a boat. Two called to him especially. If only for their sheer might.

"I sense them too,"
he whispered to Asha, easy to do between the curtains of hair draping his face.

"We will stay,"
he proclaimed. "But hold on to me."
He pat her hand, ignoring the soft, feminine touch grazing his fingertips, but didn't hold it. His eyes were fixed ahead, glittering black, studying the fortress.

"It may go badly. But it may be magnificent. Whatever happens. Stay with me. We may need to move quickly."


To where, he didn't specify.

[ooc: Damien is in the middle of the crowd. Michael and the boys are at the back.]

His voice bit harshly, and on its own it might have startled her, but the sentiment behind it was more complex. Either way there had been nothing to tell. She'd never touched a person when they were blank, let alone been focused so closely when one actually disappeared. It was just poor luck that the situation had presented itself in circumstances apt to overwhelm her when the connection was lost.

Her lips quirked a small smile, head tilted. "I just did."


He touched her, then, knowing it amplified her senses. But it was fleeting. An invitation or uncertainty? There was too much peripheral interference to be sure of the nuances, and suddenly the memory of brief discomfort swam to the forefront of her mind. Insecurity tightened in her chest. Because he knew now, that her touch stripped a soul bare. And who'd truly be comfortable with that?

Her uncle had accepted her, but he had always discouraged her from touching him, even as a small child. It was an act to be punctuated by need, not affection, because her abilities were something to be managed. Not explored. Because it was intrusive. Not that it was a rule she had always stuck to with others, at least not when a kinship was struck. She found joy in the connection, perhaps moreso because their time spent in any one place was brief. But none of those people had ever known what she was, nor what boundaries she crossed while they remained ignorant.

Elias offered with words but not with action, and his attention had already turned away. The only thing that radiated now was the burn of curiosity. The thought of rejection dropped her heart with lead, warring with the equally mortifying possibility of simply being a burden to a sense of duty.

The crowd made it so hard to think.

His hand hovered close. She could brush his fingers, bring him into sharper focus, and have an answer in seconds. But she didn't. And maybe didn't want to know. He'd stuck with her, and that was kindness enough.

"We don't need to... I mean, if it's weird."
The words tripped out stilted. "I can focus without it. It's just harder, that's all."

Energy pulsed and flowed among the multitude before him. A wafting sense of nostalgia pricked the shadowed corners of his mind, but unable to place it, he dismissed the sensation. His agents proclaimed the area as secure as possible. It was time to present himself.

He gathered power about him, drinking deeply upon the energy that held the cosmos together. It filled him with furious light and the world slammed into sharp focus.

He stepped out of the shade of Senatskaya Tower and approached the low parapet wall. Immediately, the tone of the crowd shifted as a thousand eyes realized he was there. Cheering arose next, echoed along the red walls of the fortress and drowned away the more meager noise of protest. The power he held plucked the chanting of his name from the cacophony, filling the air with majesty to his ears. His heart beat in time with his people, ecstatic. His realm. Destiny incarnate: for this was he born!

He peered briefly over the edge of the wall. Seemingly alone, others waited beneath the dome of Senatskaya Tower behind him, he was a sliver of black painted against red brick. Flags bearing the Ascendancy's orange crescent rippled on the wind, making for a royal frame to the picture. Below, the flat roof Lenin's red and black mausoleum waited silent as the tomb it was. Evergreen trees lined the Kremlin wall, bright green needles against hellish red brick. The white steps of hundreds of Bolshevik tombs flanked the mausoleum, a necropolis of honor for the legends of the past dead.

He soaked it in, letting his eyelids fall momentarily. The chanting. The power. The air. He could almost feel the shoulders of the cremated filling the fortress wall holding him high in the bricks beneath his feet. As though they approved of his ascension. Of all the glorious places along the Kremlin wall, this was his favorite, perched upon the piles of the past yet peering into the future. These empires of the living and the dead loved him. Soon, the remainder of the whole world would love him too. There was only one thing better than adoration and reverence, and it was nearly within grasp. It was time the world bowed at his feet. To acknowledge what he had known these past forty five years.

He seized all of the power he could fathom, until he was near to trembling with it.

Cords of light rippled around him, weaving together a voice that every ear below would be able to hear. It was so freeing to use. To speak without the enhancement of technology. To be what he really was before the public. This was as he should be. This was right.

He spoke, voice hardened and strong.

"Members of my Custody, greetings!"
His arms raised before cheering crowd as though embracing each. The Arcus band at his temple glinted in the sun.

"I have come to show you the might behind my words. I will uphold my promise to you! To make Moscow the center of the earth!"


He smiled to himself as his eyes roamed the scene. The massive building of the GUM served as a cement backdrop to the many headed crowd. The colorful domes of St. Basil's waited eternal at the edge of the Red Square. To his right, the gothic peaks of the clock tower loomed high. He pictured the view before him filled with tanks and soldiers of the last world war. He saw it desolate as in the final days of the Cold War. He imagined the Imperial family climbing into carriages and the laborers constructing the massive marble mausoleum entombing the Father of the Revolution. Today, it would all change. Great Russia, the Empire, the Soviets, even the ASU would be left to rot in history. Dead to the world and replaced with a new realm. His realm. To witness the beloved leaders of the past replaced.

Voice thunderous, amplified by his power, his hands curled into fists as he shouted, "Today, I prove it to you!"


His gaze lowered to the flat roof of Lenin's tomb and cold blue eyes studied those columns for what would be the last time.

The weave amplifying his voice dissolved and he spoke to those behind him, "Upon fear for your life, do not interrupt my concentration,"
he ordered.

Power filled him as it only had a few times in this life. It stretched his soul into shards piercing his skin from within. An exquisite, brilliant pain that enthroned him upon the center of all existence. In that moment, the axis of the galaxy rotated around him. If he desired, he was certain he could have altered the fabric of reality itself.

Flows delved deep into the marble, granite and gold tomb below. At first a handful, then a dozen, then more. Everything he could wield, he summoned into his control. Within the heart of the tomb, weaves of Flame scorched Lenin's body to ash although none would see the long overdue cremation. Nikolai would have smiled, but his mind was far from his body. He labored on.

Firmament mixed with the Flames. Essence and Ether contained the flows. Water molded the form. The foundations of Senatskaya Tower itself rumbled beneath his feet. The reflecting pools of the necropolis rippled in the quaking. Cathedral bells gonged in the distance.

The black and red walls of the mausoleum flowed liquid, an elemental molten between stone and lava. The walls puddled. The columns melted. Power raged through him, plucking at the edges of his soul, but still he reached for more, and the limits of his strength stretched new heights. The joy was terrible.

In place of the mausoleum formed a gateway. A gothic, black Triumphant Arch veined blood red as tall as the tower in which Nikolai stood. Flanking the arched passageway were gargantuan statues of a robed man, the face smoothened and hollow, his temple bearing a thin band like a crown. The figures each held a scepter tipped with gold stripped from what was formally the interior of the old mausoleum. Blood red sculptures of Phema, goddess of fame, laid golden laurel wreaths before the man, their offerings filling the spandrels of the arch. Last to coalesce, a triumphal chariot pulled by four black stallions surmounted the monument, horses three times larger than the mightiest alive.

The ground came to stillness. The foundations of the fortress rested. The crowd of thousands was silent. Arms heavy with labor, he paused to wipe the sweat from his face and steady his breathing.

The silence was filled with awe and fear until it slowly transformed into love and worship for their new idol. What enemy would dare confront such a god?

Nikolai basked in their worship.

Michael's face was impassive as the ground beneath started to tremble and the whole square was moved to silence. As soon as the massive amount of Ascendant Power had been gathered, he knew it was Nikolai. It could be no-one else, only Michael himself could hold that much power.

He strains... Michael thought idly. Interesting. So much for the strongest of all...

"Shit...."
Rykovi muttered under his breath.

"Incredible..."
Samuel seemed more afraid than anything.

Foolish.

The sight was impressive enough, Michael could never work the earth in the way Nikolai did, but that much use would leave him weakened and vulnerable.

Any one of the great powers could strike him down. The Sigma, the one next to him.

He could do it himself, if he tried. It was a tempting thought.

"Be on your guard,"
Michael spoke calmly. Petrovic's eyes bulged at that. He could never understand why Michael remained impassive.

He doesn't understand the ice-coated rage burning. The torment of the Atharim murderers. What else could he be but ice?

"The Ascendancy has shown the world a miracle. You know the price of working that hard."
Half of them seemed like they didn't believe the Ascendancy could be weakened. How could a God be weak? "If anyone tries anything, I order you; Protect the Ascendancy at all costs."


Michael prepared nets of warding to intercept anything that might be thrown at Nikolai, may his name be cursed until the day he died.

The blue eyes of the officer regarded him with resolve- but he could see the fear there too. A pup facing a wolf-hound, yet determined all the same. He didn't know whether he should laugh or be impressed. He gave him this much. The man had courage. And dedication. Perhaps that could be useful.

Oakland too shifted almost immediately. The menace seemed to vanish, acceptance of him- of his words, his suspicion. His presence. Marcus felt almost as if he had been arm wrestling and the person had just gone limp. Unsatisfied. He was a fool of course. He knew this could lead to nothing, should lead to nothing, here, in this place, at this time. But he hungered for it all the same.

And then the roar of the crowd rose and Marcus turned. And there was the Ascendancy. Nikolai Brandon. A man. Just a man. Those who hated him, who vilified him roared as loudly as those who only saw a god. But in the end....what did it matter? Love. Hate. Rage. Devotion. Worship. Abhorrence. They were all the same, the same coin of two sides.

To provoke that reaction meant you mattered. You were important. You meant something. And so all of it, every shout of praise and curse was homage and worship to the man. And Malik again felt the pull of the crowd, of its energy. A force that begged to be dominated just as the Force did. For him to draw away one sliver to himself, to feel the power here flow to himself. Power for him to draw on, to hold and caress and use. To bring his will, his....order.

He hated and loved the Ascendancy at this moment. As a Sith must always do.

The man embraced his power, more than even he was capable of. Yet. It had to be yet. Malik would not let it be never. Would not believe it to be never. But the power, it mingled, the power of the roar of the crowd, the roar of the Force, they mingled and Malik watched as the Ascendancy reduced the mausoleum to nothing and in the same moment, grew as if from the touch of God, a monument to himself. Threads of the Force in numerous directions and weaves wove a tapestry of metal and stone until before him stood what could only be a new Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies, a new Pyramid, a new Temple. A manifestation of God on earth.

And Malik coveted. He craved. And he was tempted. For he also knew something else. Dominating the Force came with a price. It tired one out, riding that beast. The night with the Butcher had been glorious and liberating. But when he was done, he had been exhausted, pushed to his limit.

What was Ascendancy feeling at this moment? Was he tired? Weak? Malik struck in his mind, trying to take over. Now. NOW!!!! he screamed. Do it now!!!!

But Marcus did something he had never done. He reached out to Malik, seized him, held him writhing in his palm. And he said NO! No. Not yet. However much he hungered and wanted this, he knew it was not his time. The years stretched before them. He was young still, Ascendancy already in his 60's despite his appearance. There was much for him to learn, much to do.

He was not a fool. He was not ready to take over an empire that was not his, that did not know him or love him. He had come for a master. And he had found one. A master who had much to teach. A master with real power. He would learn. Even as his mind filed away all the combinations of weaves before him, he knew that was only the smallest part of it. He would learn what it meant to be the Ascendancy.

And in the meantime, he mentally saluted the Ascendancy, Nikolai Brandon, the man who had come from America and somehow, against all odds, came to the head of power among the people most ripe and perfect for one such as them.

Almost as if it had been destined.

As their meeting had been.

As his place here, in this place, at this time, at that man's side was. There was order to the universe. Meaning. The universal program chugged on, heedless of people's wishes, continuing to operate the transcendent code that represented the multiverse in all its glory. And their place in it.

He felt as close to communion with the divine as could exist, glorying in its perfection.

He turned to Oakland, peace enveloping him. The hatred and antagonism was gone. replaced by contentment, by trust. There was a soft smile on his face. Others might take it for rapturous worship, of sycophancy. But only he knew the truth. "I am happy to escort you to the Ascendancy, if you wish."



Edited by Marcus DuBois, Aug 3 2016, 02:27 AM.

Damien laughed at the display of sheer power. The dark stallions were particularly impressive.

"Hmm,"
he mused with a small smile as the crowd stood in awe. "I never much liked to deal with the earth. Far too stubborn. It takes a lot out of a man."


He shrugged. "Impressive though. I didn't think that the Ascendancy was that much of a showman."
His eyes did not reveal any of the awe that shone on most faces in the crowd.

Damien's smile widened at the Sigma's offer. It was almost polite. Perhaps they were becoming friends after all. He chuckled at the thought. "If you are sure, I would be honoured,"
he turned around to look behind. "Do you want to call some of your friends over? That orange and the way they all stand in a line really gives it away. Better safe than sorry, no?"



Edited by Damien, Aug 3 2016, 08:02 AM.

Giovanni was about to leave when Ascendancy did his show. That stalled Giovanni. He watched the threads that Ascendancy put together with awe, and suddenly he was glad for his patience. Glad that he had decided to wait. But what he did do was revel in the chaos it caused.

The crowd was astounded, and Giovanni didn't doubt why. It was very clear to him. The man had earned his place as ruler. Could one god serve another. Yes they could. At one point Giovanni had. At least he had thought he had.

Again it was patience. He had bided his time back then. Back when? Giovanni didn't understand what was going on in his head. When had he bided his time before. When the display was done, he turned once more to leave. A lot of plans would have to be laid. He would have to be prepared.

Ivan left him alone, and for a moment, regret stabbed Jensen's relief. Ivan bore him no ill will, and the officer was also bestowed the same Gift as Jensen. Why did he want to hide it? Was he still ashamed?

He couldn't think about it right now. Faces turned and people began to point. Jensen recognized the outline of the Ascendancy looking down upon them. He had never been in the man's physical presence. Only seen him in online playback or streamed live.

As he addressed the crowd, memories of standing at the pulpit himself returned. He had spoken before stadiums before. What must the Ascendancy see right now? Faces too small to make out details, but with the Gift, maybe he could see more than Jensen ever did.

Then a mighty storm erupted, one unseen. So much of the power was worked, Jensen trembled before it. Those around him were frozen with awe, but they were ignorant of the raging storm. How must the Hebrews quaked before the wonder of God?! Jensen understood their fear, now.

As he watched the building melt and be reformed, he was transfixed, and silent tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. So much power! The flows were more than his eyes could witness. He wanted to look away, but could not bring himself to do so.

Weeping, he wiped his face with his hands and craned his neck upward, taking in the beauty erected before them.

He told her to hang on, but Asha didn't. She obviously didn't want to, despite explaining the need. Jaw clenched, Elias shrugged the decline. It was fine. Whatever.

The Ascendancy showed himself, a rare site for the mere mortals of the crowd. He was always locked up in his fortress domain, and famously private with his personal life. It was a topic of his junior year government essay, and made for researching the back story highly annoying.

The thing Elias noticed first about the man above was his dark hair and pale skin. In another life, they might have been brothers. That certainly wasn't the case now. To that end, Elias pushed the long curtain of his own black hair back behind his ears so his own view was unobstructed by so much as a thin wisp.

His voice boomed shocking. Thunderous, even. It took Elias by surprise, although he did not jump. Did Asha sense him disappear? He wondered.

When he drew upon their power, Elias' eyes doubled their size. "Holy shit."
He uttered, watching the work unfold.

The ground trembled, and Elias' scowled in annoyance. At that, he grabbed at Asha to steady both of them but hung on even after the trembling stopped.

The arch was gaudy and obviously a monument dedicated to himself, even if the statues weren't exact likenesses. He proclaimed himself an emperor with the symbolism.

But Elias had criticizing eyes for the chariot on top. "Lame. A pair of white horses would have been better,"
he grumbled at the black Stallions.

As ostentatious as the arch was, it's construction was impressive. Elias grated to know he wasn't so strong.

He looked at Asha. "Historical enough of a moment?"
He smirked, sarcasm oozing. One good earthquake would rend it into rubble anyway.