Aria wanted to go up and see Dane. She had questions. Like what the fuck happened? And why the fuck was he back? But she wasn't going to do that. The last thing she needed was to give the Regus and Borovsky a reason to leave her behind, so she sat in her chair and waited while everyone else was duly impressed and horrified at Ascendancy's latest display of power.

Aria could only roll her eyes. Nox was probably fanboying it up if he was above ground. He'd been hunting so much since he got back he was likely below the city streets doing whatever he did when she wasn't with him.

But neither of the two men were really part of her conscious thought. Aria's mind was skirting the edges of every person in the vicinity. Something was still wrong but Aria couldn't put her finger on it. And she really didn't have time as she felt the fury and bristling personality of Martin Borovsky near long before he showed his face around a corner and crooked his finger and walked away. He didn't even glare or sneer at her. He barely gave her any second thought. His disgust for Ascendancy was clearly written all over his feelings. Aria smiled to herself as she relished the feeling of the man who at the present hated her less than Ascendancy.

Deep in the bowels of the Atharim they gathered their sonic weapons and their tools of the trade. Aria was going as a guide and only took her swords and her guns. She wasn't going to take on Ascendancy in close range. A sniper rifle from a distance and a bullet to his head was the only way she was going to take down a god. Aria knew first hand what a god like the Ascendancy could do - and Nox wasn't even half the god Ascendancy was. She was not an idiot. She took whatever weapon that Martin handed her - she didn't intend to use it though.

Once everyone was geared and armed to the tooth they ascended to the street level and by the cover of night they walked the short distance to the hidden entrance. The things that lay hidden in the world until you uncover them. Aria would never have know of the entrance if she'd not been lead from the facilities below unhindered. But now she could not unknown the fact. The Ascendancy would need to block this entrance once this was done. The Atharim would know of it if any of them survived this night.

Aria intended to survive. It was just a matter of how much running she was going to have to do. She doubted the all powerful and might Ascendancy cared for her life. The Atharim would hunt her down for her betrayal. If she survived. And if Ascendancy died, the Regus and Martin would see her dead with in the hour. She didn't intend to die today.

Aria opened the steel door that lead into the bowels of the earth. "Are you ready to enter hell?"



Edited by Aria, Aug 25 2016, 04:34 PM.

Video posted in Jeddah's Fallen Channel on IAF's website by the_collective:

An image of Sapper Nkemdilim Aberash appears on screen in full military regalia with birth and death listed on screen. "Survived by his mother" scrolled by. Images of Sudanese girls that he'd saved from their former trade were displayed before and where they were today, the worls "saved from sex trade by Aberash" stamped on each before image before the transition into where they were today. Security footage of his platoon commander and senior leadership being taken into custody displayed with big red X's ousting them from their positions because of Aberash. Blurred images of court marshal papers showing the proof. Pictures of his funeral service displayed in the end, the girls he saved clearly standing in attendance crying as the flag of his home nation was placed on his coffin and given an appropriate military send off into the afterlife. His mother all in black crying. Final words saying "These women will always remember Sapper Nkemdilim Aberash."

*** thousands of embedded links were sent to media around the world, popular independent vloggers and bloggers with a simple title of - Honor the Fallen ***

It had been an interesting month. World events aside, of course, as he generally didn't care much about those sorts of things. So the big-boss-man of the CCD had declared himself a GOD. Fuck it, he was just another one of those magic users the Atharim hated so much. Standard racism bullshit, really. They were different, they were powerful, and they could do a lot of damage if one wanted to, but most seemed to have been keeping a pretty low profile for the past decade or so. Hell, he'd only ever met a handful of them, himself. Certainly more then most folks might have, but not terribly surprising considering he would occasionally moonlight to help the Atharim.

Something he hadn't been called on for, lately. But, if he hadn't missed his guess, there was probably a lot going on over there at their secret hidey-hole. He had no way of fully grasping what the Ascendancy's revalation meant for the Atharim on a global scale; they had connections to the Church, from what he understood. Which could make things very awkward for the Vatican.

But, that was exactly the sort of thing he didn't much care about. Outside of how he could make a buck and whether he could find a good fight, of course. Money was still flowing faster then he could spend it, but the fights? He hadn't had a good one in far too long. Pervaya Iiniya Securities had drawn steady business, the list of high-profile clients grew longer by the day, as did the list of employees the security company employed. And with Koloman's departure for Algeria, the competition for the top-shelf jobs had dropped off.

The Brewery was one of Moscow's best kept secrets in gun-fanatic circles. As its name hinted, it had once been a brewery, but all that remained of the old building was the two basement levels which housed a gun range, exclusive club, and various tool shops and services open only to members.

A fire back in the mid-'90s had destroyed much of the historic building at street level, but the foundation and basement levels had been painstakingly salvaged and restored. The location had changed hands repeatedly over the following thirty years, until finally becoming The Brewery back in the 20's.

What had once been corridors housing barrels and brewing equipment, had been re-purposed as weapons ranges or Close-Quarters-Battle lanes. Thick brick walls and ceilings, coated with thick layers of near-invisible polymers that prevented ricochets or damage to the old brick, absorbed most of the noise the club users could generate.

Naturally, Hood had his own range set up in the basement of one of the partially demolished Soviet-era tenement blocks near where he lived, but The Brewery had an excellent scotch bar and he didn't have to clean up after himself. And it helped that the company office was located in the modern office complex that sat on top of the old brewery foundation, only a couple kilometers from the heart of the CCD itself.

The smell of spent propellants, the ever-lingering scent of the old brewery, and of course the far cleaner aroma of the fine scotch in his glass. The muffled sound of weapons fire beyond the intervening wall between the club and the ranges, coupled with the sound of the handful of club members, seated usually in pairs or small groups, tending to pistols or discussing current events, new firearms, or whatever else floated their boats.

The place always felt empty, or near enough to it to suit his preferences. The Brewery could accommodate fifty shooters at any time, between the various firing ranges and courses, and while there were thousands of members on the books, many of whom didn't live in DI, it was a rare day to see more then a few score members present.

After his rather impromptu discussion with Mr Sigma himself, and their surprising discovery of mutual interests, Hood had been busy. Mr Marveet the Eldest was a rich, powerful man. And with such riches and power came an impressive home, an impressive security system, teams of professional bodyguards, and the usual arrogant certainty that money made one untouchable.

Low tech had proven the way of the game, as his drones couldn't get close to the Marveet mansion without their cameras being blinded by lasers mounted on motion-sensitive emitters. Curtains were photo-scrambling fabrics, the windows mirrored against imaging systems. He had no doubt that signals going in or out were tracked. Everything a house needed to protect it from rival businessmen, common burglars, or would-be kidnappers.

Luckily for Hood, he wasn't any of those things.

It had been a short few days filled with planning and Martin still hated that they hadn't tested this so-called weapon. It irked him to no end but he never mentioned it again. This was on the Regus' head if it went south - all on him.

Martin was sitting at his desk when a notice flickered across his screen. Unusual activity. It wasn't something he had expected until he opened it up and saw the who on the files accessed. Dorian! What the fuck was he doing accessing the god files?

But Martin didn't get a chance to call him. He had picked up his phone. He was dialing Dorian's number by memory but there was a commotion outside his office. He rolled his eyes and stood up and stepped outside into the hall and followed the few stragglers still rushing towards the common areas of the building. A large TV was on displaying a news cast.

In the middle was a melting building... the captions said something to the affect that Ascendancy was melting a building. Every Atharim in the building was staring at the display of power. Martin turned on his heal and headed towards the Regus' office. He didn't bother knocking. He blurted out. "Are you watching this?"

Evelyn was always impressed by the decor and ambiance in Moreau's. It was a pretty French/Italian fusion restaurant. It was expensive, of course, but also very exclusive, so exclusive in fact that it was difficult for even someone of Evie's stature to get a reservation. She had to leverage her popularity as the U.S.'s most viral Congresswoman to get a table for two at such short notice. However, it's exclusivity meant that it wasn't uncommon to see sitting Representatives and Senators dining there. Her presence meeting an old friend there certainly wouldn't make a splash in the papers. Or at least, it wouldn't have if Nick hadn't made a spectacle of himself in public. For someone who claimed to just be a normal man, he certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

Evie's mouth twisted into a wry smile. Regardless, what happened happened, and she had to make the best of it. Knowing that Nick was blessed like her made things easier in some ways. She'd been hoping that she could trust her childhood friend's brother with knowledge of her gift. The fact that he was also blessed made him less likely to abuse her trust, or so she hoped. If they were lucky, the paparazzi would've grown somewhat bored or at least Nick would evade them. None of them would make it inside the premises of course, Moreau ran too good of a business to allow that. However, knowledge that she was meeting with him would almost certainly get out. Evelyn sighed. She would just have to be more careful of eavesdroppers.

Even in a room full of important people, Secretary Trano still made ripples as he entered. No one was so crass as to openly stare at him, but his progress towards her was tracked out the corners of many eyes, and whispers followed his wake. The entire restaurant was aware that a powerful man - both in the political and literal sense - was among them. Evie stood once he reached her table, offering her best politician's smile and handshake. "Nick, thank you for joining me. I'm certain that you have a very busy schedule, especially now."


Once they were seated, Evelyn bowed her head, clasping her hands in her lap. She quickly ran through an 'Our Father' before making her request silently Lord Jesus, shelter us. Dampen the flows around our table, so that sound travels less easily. Amen.
When she looked up, Nick appeared somewhat wary. "That trick is something that I used to use with Maddie all the time. It helped us gossip in school without getting in trouble."
Evie was still saddened by the loss of her best childhood friend, just as she always was. Hopefully mentioning her would get the elephant out of the room though. "I'm not sure the exact science behind it, but it muffles sound. It's not perfect. Someone actively standing by us and actively trying to eavesdrop may succeed, but it will prevent people in the tables nearby from easily overhearing us."
With that, she grew silent. She'd given Nick enough to muse over for now.

((I figured that Trano might get goosebumps when a woman is channeling around him, as some men do.))


Edited by Evelyn, Aug 24 2016, 01:56 PM.

Under the cover of darkness, Damien waded through the crowds of Moscow in silent anonymity. His business done with the Ascendnacy, Damien sought the pleasures of the night. For so long he had been fighting, he almost forgot how to enjoy himself.

The streets were full of men and women who slunk through the shadows like fugitives. Not so with Damien, he strode without concern or regard for the souls that passed by. What business was it of theirs, to judge a man or woman for their choice in pleasures? The lamb did not scorn the lion for hunting its prey.

The line of thinking was swept aside for more pleasant thoughts. He had begun to accept the innate foolishness of humanity. Perhaps in time they would learn. For the time being, Damien was content to do as he pleased.

"My, my, you are handsome, aren't you?"
a young woman's voice curled up in his ear. Husky and suggestive, the woman reinforced her statement with her hands boldly groping at his belt while her necklace dug into the skin of his neck.

Damien smiled, but inside his mood soured. The whore stunk of alcohol and stale perfume, her pock-marked face covered with a lather of ill-suited cosmetics that made her look more like a clown than temptress. He did not begrudge her because of her trade, but he did disdain those who performed it so poorly.

"Not now, sweet. Perhaps another time,"
he replied laconically, idly removing her hands from his pants with gentle care. She pouted at him, but the look in his eye told her not to press the matter further.

"Fine, be that way."


She pushed herself away with sharp nails digging into his chest. Damien grunted as she smiled at him with vicious pleasure. He frowned as he pressed a hand to his breast.

Blood.

"Wha..."


The world around him began to fade at an alarmingly rapid pace. Damien had no time to even call out to those around him before his legs grew weak and he stumbled.

Vaguely, he heard the woman's voice somewhere in the distance. It echoed in his head. "Now, now. Don't worry."


The seductive charm had been replaced with cool confidence. More, he recognised the familiar Maine accent. "Everything will be fine, Mr. Oakland. You are in good hands."


As his legs struggled to remain upright, he felt arms grasp under his armpits to shoulder the weight. The woman - whoever the hell she was - was carrying him!

Rage boiled like a distant thundercloud, but it slipped away like rain off a window pane. The lure of sweet oblivion was far too strong. Soon it overwhelmed him, dragging him into the depths of unconsciousness.


Edited by Damien, Aug 24 2016, 08:44 AM.

The press conference was worse than Nicholas expected. Fresh off Nikolai Brandon's public ego masturbation, the questions were brutal. The press didn't want to listen to proposals for common sense legislation, they wanted a witch hunt. Guess this is what it feels like on the other side,
Nicholas thought. He was nursing his third drink of the night in the back seat of a government car. He took another sip.

Ever since the terror attack in the 2030's, all major government officials in the line of succession had to be escorted at all times. Two secret service agents sat in the front. Nicholas couldn't deny the humor in it all. He'd spent years as a kingmaker, politicians at his beck and call. Building up people's careers and shattering others. He'd been the fox, and now he was meeting the wolves. They didn't care about any higher ideals of some mythical fourth estate. They wanted ratings, and blood always sent those sky high.

A pothole in the road almost made Nicholas drop his glass, but he didn't. Evie,
he thought. She sent him a message after the conference was over. She wanted to meet, to discuss old times. It wasn't long ago she'd come by asking for advice, and help. He couldn't help her directly, but he tore down every democrat in her way. He wondered what his dead sister's best friend wanted now.

"Mr. Secretary," the voice came from the driver up front. "An office building up ahead is on fire and the road's closed. We're changing the route."

Bad press,
Nicholas thought. That's it.
He downed the drink and looked up at the rear view mirror, his eyes meeting the driver's. "No, it's not. Find us a place to park. You two are about to see why I just got the position."


"What are you going to do, Secretary?" There wasn't fear in the agent's voice, or much curiosity, either. He sounded resigned, more than anything. Which was good. Nicholas knew he was going to like this one.

"Something I've never done before, that's going to make my case better than any words I can come up with."
The car came to a stop in front of the road block. "But I'll need those badges of yours to get through."


They got out, and the agents flashed their badges at the cop directing traffic away from the road block. He hadn't expected to see a cabinet secretary try to come through on foot, so it wasn't hard for the agents to make him stand aside.

The fire was ugly, and cutting through the middle of the building. Nicholas could see people hanging out the windows from the upper floors. The zoning restrictions on building heights went away when they rebuilt D.C., and that wasn't good for the people trapped above the fire. Ladder trucks reached as high as they could, but it wasn't enough.

Nicholas seized the power, a violent mental battle for control that he'd narrowed down to a science. In the blink of an eye he held the force of a hurricane. Sending out tendrils of water and air, he weaved a net and sent it through the building. In the Navy, everyone had to know how to fight fires. Fuel, air, heat, and a chemical reaction were the four pillars that held the whole thing up.

Nicholas couldn't take the fuel, and taking the air away wouldn't stop the fire for good unless he suffocated everyone in the building. So, instead, he felt out. The strands were like his fingers, and when they found the flames he felt it. Methodically, he wrapped his net around every spot of flame in the building and snuffed it out, freezing the fire away.

By the time he finished, Nicholas realized that all eyes were on him. The firefighters had stopped spraying water, and the people in the windows stopped shouting for help. His two agents were standing next to him, hands in their coat pockets. Probably ready to draw in case someone thought he was the anti-Christ. No,
he thought, That's Brandon.


Nicholas used the power like a megaphone, projecting his voice. "I'm the new Secretary of Powers, Nicholas Trano,"
he began. "Some of you probably saw me on the news tonight. All I want to say right now is this. Nikolai Brandon thinks he's a god; he's not. He's just a human being like any of us. He's had the power to stop things like this for decades, and he waited until he could show it off and build himself a cult. This is a tool, like anything else. If you'll all let me, I'm going to make sure we can do the most good with it."


For a moment, nobody around seemed to know how to respond. Nicholas was sincerely hoping he hadn't disastrously miscalculated when the first one started clapping.


Edited by Nick Trano, Aug 24 2016, 01:24 AM.

Character Name: Evelyn Avalon

Forum Account Name: Evelyn

Age: 26

Birthday: November 1st, 2019

Hometown: Aberdeen, South Dakota

Occupation: Member of the U.S. House of Representatives from South Dakota’s 3rd District

Psychological Description: Evelyn is young and idealistic. She was elected the youngest member of the 119th Congress, and ran her campaign mostly through online and crowd-sourced fundraising. She had a vlog-channel that explained socialist politics, and once she turned 25 she figured that she might as well try it out herself. She never expected to become an overnight viral sensation, and was extremely baffled by her success. Therefore, she’s somewhat humble and has a very ‘aww shucks, me?’ attitude at first. However, she’s very much a true believer, and reached political success without having to go through the drudgery of fundraising and kissing-up that most candidates do. Therefore, she’s passionate about using government to make a difference in the lives of ordinary Americans, and willing to step on toes to get her way. During her past year and half in Congress, her idealism has been dampened somewhat. The constant struggle of trying to get enough votes to pass legislation was eye opening to her. She’s learning to play the political game more, although she keeps an upbeat and hopeful attitude.

While Evelyn is has genuinely altruistic motives in politics, she had a bit of a spoiled upbringing. She was raised in upper-middle class household, and has never really had to struggle for success. She’s a bit entitled and deep down, she feels like the success she’s experienced is her due. While she would never openly claim ambitions of holding higher elective office like the Speakership or Presidency, it’s only natural for the media to speculate about the bright future of such a young star. And of course, in her heart of hearts she fully expects to someday ascend to those high positions.


Supernatural Powers and Abilities: As a Christian, Evelyn got through the Sickness by sequestering herself in prayer, and opening her heart to Jesus. She considers her gifts a blessing from God, and herself to be one of Jesus’ chosen prophets. She channels God’s gift through prayer. While she’s praying and saying Hail Maries, or clutching her crucifix, she can weave spells using God’s power.

Channeler current strength: 29

Channeler potential strength: 31

Channeler experience level: Adept

Reborn God: Persephone

Biography:

“And that, my fellow Americans, is why you need to call up your Congresspeople and tell them to vote ‘no’ on H.R. 4067. Do it for America; do it for me,” she said, smiling happily into the camera. “And of course, do it for all the cute little puppies and kittens like Rolf here,” she scratched under the puppy’s chin, and it shifted from its spot on her lap to look adorably towards the recorder, “Who will go hungry when H.R. 4067 slashes funding from your local shelters. Alright folks, Evie out!” She threw up a peace sign in front of her face in her classic ‘signing off’ pose.

Evelyn “Evie” Avalon, or Congresswoman Avalon as she prefers, pressed the stop button on her wallet that would end her recording. With her weekly vlog done, she passed Rolf off to the shelter worker on hand and gestured her PA to come closer. She had a busy schedule today. There was a meeting of the Foreign Relations Committee that she had to attend, as well as some documents for her to go over. She was co-sponsoring a Bill introducing term limits for House members, which was almost certainly dead in the water, but would look good on her reelection campaign in the fall. However, she’d been vlogging weekly since she started her PhD in Political Science back in 2042. She’d taken a leave of absence from Northern State University to pursue her freshman Congress term in 2044, but her online following had been what got her in office. It felt disloyal to quit vlogging once in DC. Besides, education was an integral part of democracy. If the populace could learn about important political issues through her vlog, then all the better.

As she was gathering her things, the television screen caught her attention. They were advertising the appointment of Nickolas Trano to the newly created Secretary of Powers position. Her mouth twisted into a small frown. She knew that Nick was in DC, of course, had reached out to him since she moved in town. However, their relationship hadn’t been very good ever since Maddie… well, Evelyn clutched at the cross around her neck, and said a prayer in remembrance. Besides, Evie had always been more of a little sister figure than a friend in his mind, or at least so she imagined.

“Ma’am.”

Natalie’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Evie turned to her PA, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, let’s go then.” Evie accepted the papers, reading through them as she walked. They’d done this routine enough that she trusted Natalie to make sure she didn’t walk into anything or anyone. The House Committee on Foreign Affairs meeting was specifically a CCD Subcommittee meeting. As the lowest ranking member of the Committee, she was supposed to have been assigned to the African Subdivision. However, she’d managed to leverage her popularity and youth in her favor. Evie wasn’t naïve; she knew that her pretty face got her a lot more viewership than most politicians. She’d convinced the Party leadership that if they put her on the CCD subcommittee, then she’d use her internet platform to push their positions. Everyone in politics loved a win-win.

Evelyn had wanted to be on the CCD Subcommittee for various reasons. The first was that it was the most powerful and influential subcommittee. If she wanted to run for elective office someday, having diplomatic experience to the other global superpower would be invaluable. Additionally, she honestly believed that the US would have to cooperate with CCD in some manner to promote global peace and prosperity. Open warfare, or even covert warfare, with the Dominions would only cause calamity. Evie wasn’t blind to the problems with the CCD. There was a suspicious lack of democracy and accusations of humanitarian abuses regarding Ascendancy. However, she admired how Ascendancy had turned a situation of international strife into order and prosperity. Therefore she believed that she played something of a balancing role on the CCD Subcommittee: she was rightfully cautious towards the nation, but constantly looking for ways to push international cooperation and extend olive branches.

Evelyn stifled a laugh as she looked down at the documents in her hands and read the meeting agenda. It was an emergency meeting in response to Ascendancy’s announcement of his Godhood. The Congresswoman absentmindedly fingered the beads of her rosary, resisting the urge to open herself to Jesus and use her own gift. God’s power was not to be used frivolously. She hadn’t realized that there were other Prophets like herself, but it would make sense that a man like Ascendancy would be similarly blessed. If the reports were validated and the man truly did have the “Power,” as the media was beginning to call it… well, perhaps she and her old friend Secretary Trano would find their paths crossing again, in a professional setting this time.
Edited by Evelyn, Aug 25 2016, 03:19 PM.

I'm thinking about Jensen returning to Texas to reunite with his family since the CCD announcement that magic is real. He could kind of "come out" as a channeler.

Question is anyone interested in doing some RP with a couple Texans? Jensen and the wife? I don't know if it's ok to say she governor now. Last she was around, she was running for office.

Looks like Damien is operating in Mexico!

Mexico


Edited by Michael Vellas, Aug 22 2016, 02:53 AM.