Ascendancy informed her she would be going to a secure facility in Moscow, well at least she got a free trip home once it was said and done with. He stood up with a pause. Aria watched as he left, there was nothing left to do. The effects of the man she'd manipulated were slowly wearing off he was standing again, and Aria could see the fear floating away, but she grinned at him and he balked. Aria smirked. She remained seated with her hands folded.

Another of the guards came in and put the cuffs back on her and she remained where she was. There was no point to trying anything. They were all probably under orders to shoot to kill if she tried anything.

The trip to Moscow was uneventful in and of itself. They landed, she was kept in the dark the whole way. At least it wasn't the classic black bag over the head. But it felt the same regardless. Aria let her senses fly wide, but she couldn't get any real indication of where she was, other than back in Moscow.

Once they'd got to the destination, through corridors that smelled clean and sanitary like a hospital she was eventually dumped into another windowless room. Time became meaningless, no sun, no clocks, it was just emptiness. Except Aria could feel others around her, she felt people disappearing from her senses on and off again throughout the hours. Aria laid on the provided cot and stared at the ceiling pondering the holes in it. Her mind wandering and drifting into oblivion, not sleep, but meditation.

A woman in white came in with a mask and latex gloves and several vials of and a needle. Aria smiled to herself, Nox would hate that. She rolled up her left sleeve and let the woman draw blood. She didn't flinch at the tattoo of the ouroboros and dragons inked there, it made Aria wonder how many people under Ascendancy's employ actually knew about the Atharim.

There was nothing really to do again once the woman left taking other samples as well. Aria lay again on the cot - waiting. Death was still a possibility, but she felt slightly better about her survival at the moment. In an attempt to forgo boredom Aria got up and removed her combat boots, they were still damp from the snow covered walked done only a short time ago. Aria started performing a daily kata routine to keep active and keep from dying of boredom.

In the days after the massacre at the Masiaka refinery-turned-refugee camp, Legion Premiere had been busy. For the Legionnaires on the ground, little had changed, and moods had begun to sour. Rumours spread that Jacques had been aware of what was going to transpire at the refinery, knew that the refugees there would be killed, and that he had done nothing to prevent it, and continued to do nothing to avenge it.

He offered no excuses, no heart-felt speeches to the men under his command. Only a select few would have seen how deeply it had affected him, and even they didn't know the truth of it. He had doctored the entire situation, had counted on the government troops to follow him out of the city. He had planned that they would execute some of the refugees, as a show of control and force. He hadn't planned on the Temne attack.

That had been a miscalculation, a grievous error on his part. So much effort had been put into arranging the extraction of the children, to protect them from the worst of what the Mende troops would do. And instead, he had put them, and men loyal to him, into harms way. Few had survived that mistake, and even then only because of that freelance reporter whom had so foolishly decided to tag along. But so long as he had a job to do, he would not allow himself the right to grieve or be swallowed by self pity.

Legion headquarters staff had been busy over the past five days, starting even before the events at the refugee camp. Plans had been set into place. Objectives and targets had been carefully selected and deliberated over. The company had been quietly rewritten from the ground up. It had gone unnoticed thus far, but they were no longer referred to publicly as Legion Premiere, but rather simply as 'the Legion.' No more allusions to being a private security company. All contracts of that flavour had been handed off, and the every Legionnaire not serving in Sierra Leone, or part of the relief convoy, waited at the company headquarters in Morocco.

Jacques had kept both himself, and his people, busy. Some meager understanding had been made with the Interim President General Wallace-Johnson in the wake of the refugee camp massacre. Legionnaires moved in small groups around the city, encouraging some semblance of normality, although they had no official control or influence. The government's soldiers had all but replaced the city police, and what little remained of the city's emergency responders, fire fighters and paramedics and the like, were barely able to operate with a half dozen military members breathing down their necks.

City infrastructure was stretched beyond its limits; with the city over flowing with refugees, there was a huge strain on the electrical grid, the city's ability to produce potable water. With the airport and ports under military blockade, and with the ongoing conflict and raids by bandits and rebels, there was no influx of food to the city. The reserves were near depleted, and rationing was already strictly enforced. Public executions had been carried out by the military on undesirables who were caught hoarding food. Those undesirables were, of course, Temne refugees. And if the military didn't get them, then riots and looters did.

Of course, along side dealing with those hoarding food, Interim-President General Wallace-Johnson's loyal forces, and those members of the elected government that had thrown in with his camp, also tended to seize property. Exotic cars, money, belongings. Imagined or real insults were answered with theft and murder. Temne or Mende didn't matter.

The flow of refugees into the city also brought with it news and rumours of what was happening beyond the relative safety of the military cordon. Of soldiers-turned bandits in the east, near the border of Liberia, whom had met little to no resistance in their raping and pillaging. Of the growing number of attacks by Guinean warlords into Sierra Leone; much of the north-east border was over run already, and many of the smaller communities there had been razed to the ground, women and children taken, men killed and boys turned to child soldiers.

And the rumours of the return of Ebola to the region. It had festered for decades, quietly, in what had once been Guinea, but it had reared its ugly head once more. A team of volunteer doctors in Kamakwie, Sierra Leone, had reportedly confirmed the presence of the disease in a group of villagers that had fled to the city to escape the Guineans. Two days later, Warlord ShakeSpear's forces took the city and executed the doctors.

Then there were news reports of suicide bombers and drive-by shootings in Egypt, linked to religious extremists oozing out of the CCD. A rebirth of the extremist violence that had dominated the late 20th/early 21st century.

Jacques had been working behind the scenes even before the trip to the refugee camp. Contacting people of interest around the city; police department heads, city workers, even so far as a carefully disguised message to the military commander tasked to guarding the international airport.

His talks with the police, those loyal to the people, not the pay check, had proven fruitful. That morning, nearly two thirds of the city's police force had staged a walk out. One that was little felt, as the military had assumed most of their duties already. The military garrison of the international airport sat ready; they were those that the General hadn't trusted to support him, so he had left them away from the brunt of the action, where they wouldn't have been forced to make a decision. Jacques had convinced their officers to remain exactly where they were, and not get involved with what was to come.

The city workers; the plumbers and electricians and heavy equipment operators that made a city run, had been the easiest to sway of all. They had led a simple life, one that they wished to see return. As stood, the city was dying under the pressure and lack of government interest in their departments. Them, bolstered with skilled refugees that Jacques' Legionnaires had been encouraged to identify for rebuilding purposes, would allow him to take control of the city's infrastructure. Power and telecommunications to be exact.

All that remained was for the Interim President General Wallace-Johnson to make his next move.

In Drayson's line of work, there was no shortage of paperwork. Requests for his personal seal of approval on an emergency acquisition or expense request. Warrants for arrests, searches, surveillance. Updates on cases of interest he was tracking; internal investigations, politicians or the social elite, serial killers, domestic terrorists. And of course the investigations of task force Domovoi. The serial rapist, and the more recent case, which had involved the task force's own ace-in-the-hole, Officer Sarkozy in the Izmailovsky Market. That had caused quite the uproar.

Among all the things that required his attention, there were two Voluntary Release memos that had somehow made it all the way to his desk. Two officers, both with years of experience and few, if any, black marks on their records, had put in the memos within days of each other. They were a few months old already, and had likely been purposefully bogged down in the system in an attempt by their leadership to keep the officers on the force. It was a detestable passive-aggressive way of making such requests disappear, hoping the member would either have a change of heart, or just loose hope and accept that they weren't getting out.

The curious thing of the two memos was the reasons for the members wanting to release from the CDPS. They were from different precincts, and by all indications did not directly know each other. Their requests were days apart, but both sited the same reason. Both members sought to move to Africa. Morocco, to be exact. To join that security company that had been so boldly emblazoned on the headlines in the opening days of that violent rebellion in DV months ago.

He was aware of their ongoing involvement in Sierra Leone, and of their CEO's public address that had followed the start of the civil war there. In the end, he could find no reason to deny the two officers' requests, and gave them his approval before forwarding them back to their respective chains of command.

As for the attack at the market...a talk with Officer Sarkozy was in order. Domovoi was slow to gain traction on the investigation, despite how public a scene it had been. Even that old market had security cameras, and there had been plenty of witnesses. Domovoi had no shortage of resources at their disposal, and should have been able to at least identify the culprit by now.

He sipped at a mug of terrible office coffee, then set it carefully aside to keep it clear of his terminal, and sat back. He had been forced to leave Victoria on rather short notice in light of that incident, rushing to the scene to oversee the deployment of Domovoi and how well it worked. He hadn't been disappointed at the time, but thus far there had seemed to be a lack of progress in the case.

There was also the matter of the recent release of Artair Nevin, the head bodyguard of Privilege Alkaev's son, Rurik. Drayson had personally arrested the man when the fellow had been foolish enough to draw a weapon on him on Rurik's orders. The man's trial hadn't even begun yet, but he had been released on some drummed up technicality. Perhaps it was time he gave the Alkaev's another reminder of why they were supposed to be more careful about their rampant corruption. It was to be expected, and generally ignored, by law enforcement, and even he was willing to turn a blind eye. But they kept being sloppy about it.

Ayden still hadn't worked up the nerve to call the girl about meeting up with Nox at some point to talk. As much as the girl had brought Connor back to her, she hated her for it too. She'd call her someday soon. She promised herself that, but more importantly she had promised Emily she'd check on something for her. Emily didn't really know what Nox was, but she believed Ayden when she told her friend he was dangerous.

But she also had other things to worry about. Ayden had done as Emily suggested, she'd put in her resume into the pool at Shale International, specific to the Moscow division starting up. Head of Security didn't exactly seem her game after been an assassin, but she also had a very different outlook on things than most others.

Ayden hated lying to Emily, but her resume was full of bullshit that was tied to her new persona. Things that explained what she'd been doing her whole life. All lies, well mostly, there were some half truths. But Ayden hadn't planned on working for a real business firm with proper business attire, that was what today's journey to the open air market was for. She could probably find better things at the mall, but the idea of walking through the market again creating a new identity for a real purpose it had its appeal. She'd come full circle - from assassin for hire to a working woman about to get married. The idea itself terrified her, but she loved Connor.

The market was crowded despite the winter chill in the morning air. Ayden walked down the street browsing each stall. Stopping when a piece of jewelry or belt caught her fancy. She'd find something she liked.

Nox watched from the top of the hill as Aria walked away with the Ascendancy. He felt lucky and yet he felt conflicted that he should be doing something now that he was away and free of his shackles of power. But the man following behind Aria was more powerful than he could imagine. It was awe inspiring, there was so much he wanted to do but Nox didn't dare touch the power.

He turned to Lucas and they walked back to where their guide was waiting for their return. He picked up his gun and eyed Aria's. He holstered his and picked hers up and held it firmly in his hand. He sighed. "You want to take this back home? Or do you want me to?"


There was a lot of unsaid things. Things Nox really wanted to tell Lucas, but now wasn't the time or place. This was a fucked up situation. Now Nox had to babysit his best friend's boyfriend. How ironic. At least until they got to the hotel, he'd make sure he got there safely. But he wasn't going to get on a plane with that man, without Aria he wasn't getting on a fucking plane period. He'd rather walk.

Nox started walking in the correct direction he didn't care if Lucas came or stayed but he relayed his plan anyway, "We'll go find the dog sled guide and have him take us to town, we can take a cab from there back to the resort. Either leave her things with me or take them. Either way I don't care but I won't be flying back with you. The long round about by way of bus I will be going."
What he wouldn't give for his own car. If it didn't mean getting on a plane he might considering going home to get the Jeep, but no planes, no way, no how. Not if he could help it.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Bas leaned against the brick alcove and his head dropped. The pain in his face and jaw were a dull ache now, underlying that in his heart. The cold sleet drizzle was lessened here in the trash strewn alley, the ice drops on his cheeks mingling with warm ones, the knife of betrayal and rejection buried deep in his heart.

His hand is on Roman's arm, his sight limited by one eye nearly swollen shut, his speech thicker through bruised lips and cheek. "Roman, you've got to help me! I don't have anywhere else to go."
Motya had told him he had to leave just this morning. Everyone in the family had started to turning him out. His friend looks at him, emotions warring. He turns his head back and there is his father standing there with a few other higher ups in the Mordvinov family. The man won't look at Bas.

Roman turns back to Bas. "I'm sorry, man. You've brought too much attention on us. We've grown fast too quickly. The police were already suspicious- watching us. And this?!" His voice grows heated. "What the hell were you thinking, attacking a cop in the middle of the day in front of everyone?

Bas shakes his head, trying to dispel the fog that seems to settle everywhere of late. His voice is weak, a whisper. "I don't know. Ever since that night at Kallisti's I feel like someone's following me. And he..."
. He drifts off. They don't know about his gift. Or hadn't. They wouldn't understand. That...cop? That was a cop? He had the power. It couldn't be coincidence. His voice becomes insistent. "Please, just let me go somewhere."


Roman shakes his head, not looking at his father. There is hard steel in the man's eyes. "I'm sorry Bas. Everything on the books is being watched. You're on your own."

The memory dispersed in his mind, leaving behind the dregs of betrayal and hurt. He remembered trying to go home. Already he could see his mom's house staked out. He'd met his brother in the culvert they used to hide in. He'd been brought in twice for questioning already. "This is bad," he told Bas. "They say your'e a terrorist. That you are dangerous. That you can do things. They showed..." The fear in his brother's eyes said that he was scared. It made Bas want to scream and call down fire and burn everything to the ground. His own mother and brother. He couldn't go to them.

Part of him understood. They were targets now, because of him. He clenched his teeth, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's up to you, now, ok? You take care of Ma. At least until this is over. You take care of her, you hear? No screwing around."
God was merciful, at least a little. His brother didn't flinch. Instead, he hugged him. Bas felt tears at the corners of his eyes. O God, why? Why have you forsaken me? Holy Mother, have I not served you? His brother's arms around him were sort of an answer.

The hurt and betrayal was mixed with love and concern. They would be ok. As long as he stayed away, they would be. Still, he had to go somewhere. His jaw clenched and unclenched, the sounds of traffic drifting through the alley, as he was remembering. Roman's words. On the books. Maybe it had been a clue.

He hit up Aurora and Nox's place. It was empty. He tried calling Nox but it went to voice mail. He texted. No response. The same with Aurora. He let himself in. They'd done some work on it. One of the rooms had a mural on the wall and for the fist time he had felt a glimmer of peace. He had laid on the bed for a while and must have drifted off. Whimpering had brought him out his strangely restful sleep. He went a closed door and opened it onto a very girly room. Must have been Aurora's. But he didn't have time to notice. A scrawny puppy escaped and bounded around his feet. He must have been cooped up for a while. His food and water bowl were completely empty and there were a few messes to clean up. Bas gave him food he found and some water but didn't bother with the messes.

He'd sat on the couch and the puppy had jumped up and sat in his lap. He just sat there. He could stay here. But for how long? Not on the books now. But how long to one of them remembered this place and told a particularly forceful cop. They didn't take kindly to those who attacked one of them. He couldn't stay here.

He'd cast his mind about. Sasha? No. Too airheaded and emotional. If she saw the news who knew what she'd say. Alex was a no go. She was a cop. He went through his other female friends until he found an answer. Tatyana, a dancer at Kallisti's. They were old friends, hooking up fairly regularly. One night, after, she told him her secret. She was hiding out, starting a new life. If anyone understood, it would be her. She would help him. His heart latched on to that hope.

He patted the puppy on its head. "I gotta go, guy."
He smiled weakly at the little dog, scratching it behind the ear. "I don't know where Aurora and Nox are but I hope they get back to you soon bud."
The puppy's eyes looked up at him with trust.

He got up and pulled on his jacket and then, checking to make sure there was no one outside, slipped out the door and made his way to Kallisti's, taking all the back ways he knew. He hoped she would help him.


Edited by Sebastian, May 6 2015, 11:11 PM.

Sierra had been too far gone from humanity. The wolf threatened to take over, but unlike her brother she would not succumb to it's call. She would return to Moscow, and to the initial reason for going there in the first place. She was without Snow, but she was certain the wolf lived on in the dream. She would see him one day, see him again.

The voices of the wolves grew dim as she neared the river that would take her into Moscow. It was the safest yet least traveled area she could manage. She would have to be careful for a few days. Until she could afford to replace her contacts. That was the thing about living in the wilderness. You'd lose yourself if you couldn't keep your bearings. Losing small clear things in the depths of the snow, well that was even worse. Down one contact it was odd to just wear the one. It's not like she needed them to see or anything, only to hide what she truly was.

Sierra was glad the weather was slowly warming up. The snow still was found in the shadows, but down by the river, the water flowed freely, at least in most places. Sierra stopped and sat on a log that had drifted to the shore from down stream. She would take in the last moments of the wilderness, the last bit of home and the wolves before tracking down the man who killed her brother. That snake tattoo biting its own tail was etched into her memory. She would never forget his Russian accent as he said, "He'll trouble you no more." It played out in Sierra's head like an old black and white horror show. She laughed at the thought and it could have probably been heard for miles in this open space. At least it wasn't the cry of a lost wolf.


Edited by Sierra, Apr 29 2015, 12:50 PM.

Elyse Andersen

Origin: Helsingør, Denmark

Occupation: Atharim Field Hunter

Age: 23

Psychological Description: Cunning and brave, Elyse prefers to plan things out rather than act on impulse, although in her line of work she has had to do so. Elyse is social and friendly and it is hard to find her without a smile on her face. When it comes to reborn gods, she prefers to judge them on their own merits, believing not all gods are inherently evil and need to be killed. She has a soft spot for wolfkin, even those who are lost.

Physical Description: 5'5" with an athletic build. Brunette with hair down past her shoulders. Eyes are golden, but are covered with hazel contacts.

Elyse was born into an Atharim family in Helsingør, Denmark. In addition to traditional schooling, she received education in the ways of the Atharim. Her mother was a researcher and planner, and her father was a hunter. The parents thought she would follow in her mother's footsteps, but they began to realize Elyse had an aptitude for hunting and moved her along that path. Her father trained her with firearms, knives, and crossbows. Elyse's parents worked as a team, and seeing them function this way made Elyse respect the importance of careful planning. She learned to utilize all resources available to her in her hunting experiences.

At age eighteen, the same year she received her tattoo, Elyse began having dreams. She passed them off as normal dreams, but began to worry when they came almost every night. The wolves were always there and she hunted with them, going after the creatures she fought when awake. Elyse didn't understand it, but it raised a red flag. She had read something about this before. It wasn't until she saw the golden eyes in the mirror that she put everything together.

Elyse found her coat and left, keeping her head down. Her immediate destination was a costume shop that had colored contact lenses. She could order more, later, but she needed them now. Her parents couldn't know about this - they were of a more conservative branch of the Atharim. She would be put down if they found out. Elyse went back home after getting the contacts and headed straight to their library. She began reading up on Wolfkin - they could sense wolves, talk with them somehow, saw them in dreams, and were a danger. Werewolf legends were based off of those that had lost their sanity, thinking themselves to be wolves. Elyse put the book away and then realized she could sense the wolves running through the woods outside of Helsingør.

The realization that she was wolfkin made her question some of the things she had been taught. Her parents had taught her wolfkin were monsters as were reborn gods. Elyse wasn't a monster though. She wondered if the gods were inherently bad as well. No, like her, they had the potential to become monsters, but there was a choice. Elyse had to make the right ones. The first one was whether to leave the Atharim or stay, but as she thought about it, leaving might raise questions, and in many ways she was on board with the Atharim's cause - to protect people. She would have to keep her secret and hopefully would find a means to help the Atharim gain understanding. The timing would have to be right for that to work.

For the next few years, Elyse continued as she always had, hiding in plain sight amongst those who would kill her if they found out. She hunted with them, and at least she never had to hunt another of her kind, she was uncertain of what would happen if she came across one with her father next to her. She got to get the basics of how to use her wolf abilities - the heightened senses often helped, but she had to hold back so her father wouldn't get suspicious of her. She even spoke to the wolves sometimes - calling her "Silent Fang" as a representation of her trademark silenced pistol and crossbow. It was the wolves that led her to the other wolfkin.

The wolves told her of him. A man had trapped him and put him in a cage. Elyse had no idea what the man planned on doing with him, but she had to do something. Elyse left home in the middle of the night and went to the location the wolves had shown her. She found the man, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight, pacing around a cage that was too small for him. Elyse immediately felt pity. She was looking at what could be her future. The man was disheveled, and he looked up at her and growled as she approached. She sent images to the wolves questioning what had happened to him. The responses she got back were frightening. He wasn't a man anymore. He was a wolf now - not in body, but in spirit.

The wolf-man tilted his head in the gesture of a dog asking a question. Elyse didn't know if the wolves had told him that he was a friend or not. The gesture made the tears start. The wolf-man whined and pawed at the cage. Elyse felt sorrow instead of anger - there should have been somewhere he could have gone to learn - someone to help him, but there had been nothing. One thing was certain, Elyse couldn't let the trapper keep him. She pulled out her lock picking kit and worked at the padlock on the cage. It popped open and the wolf-man opened the door, using his nose instead of hands. The tears kept falling as he looked back at Elyse and then turned to bolt into the woods.

It was a few weeks later that her father and mother came over to Elyse's apartment and mentioned that they had noticed Elyse changing over the years. Initially Elyse was afraid that they had discovered her secret, but they just mentioned that maybe it was time for her to leave Denmark and see the world. Things were happening in Moscow, and the Atharim there could use one with her talents and skills. After some thought she agreed to go. She bid farewell to her parents and left for Moscow, hoping she would find people to work with there that might be sympathetic to her cause. The world was changing and the Atharim needed to change with it. She knew her life would be dangerous - more dangerous than it had been - but she had to try when the time was right.

Enzo peered across the table, through dim restaurant lighting to study the face of the woman with whom he shared drinks. She had the hardness of of a tragic life lining her features, which were otherwise lovely. Her high cheekbones cut like the edges of knives she carried in her boots. Strands of ash blonde hair were smoothed tight into a ponytail, pulling the skin of her brow taut. She held the cup of coffee firmly as though she intended to drink it like a shot of liquor. Enzo understood. Caffeine and adrenaline were sometimes an Atharim's greatest drug, but his mentor cautioned against stimulants. They made the mind itch and the skin crawl, he said. Corrado urged patience and study. Nothing less could track the call of a dreyken's song.

"Corrado Sabbatini was the Atharim's greatest living expert in the hunt for dreyken. Yet for the vastness of his knowledge, there remains so much unknown about their kind."
Enzo's pride for his mentor's life work was immense but as one of his pupils, he inherited a burden he was unworthy to bear.

Zuzanka tightened her jaw, disappointed. "So you cannot help me. Is this what you say?"
And Enzo's heart dropped into his stomach.

"No. I will do what I can. Se il vous plaît, tell me of your findings thus far."
He said as he took a drink of ice water. Zuzanka took a nervous look around the room. The light was dim, the booths high-walled, and the conversations quiet. "Don't worry. If one was in here, I'd know."


Her eyes narrowed. "They are not all street-stalkers."


He shrugged, "This is true. Some are incredibly wealthy and well-connected. The monsters of the tunels are easy to dispatch. The ones with brawny assistantes at their command are the ones to respect."
She scoffed, but Enzo cut her off with a look, "Oui, I say 'respect.' If you are to live through this mission, you must respect them."


She sniffed and crossed her arms, "Like Corrado?"
And with her snide remark, a pang cut through Enzo's chest.

He replied softly, "You do not know how he died. Please do not speculate on what you do not know."
Silence stretched between them like shadows.

Her hand laid across his, pulling his gaze upward. "I am sorry. I am short because I am frustrated. I will do as you say. Even respect the creatures that killed my sister."
A squeeze and she released his hand. He was glad of the freedom, but the sudden absence of warmth made his skin feel all the cooler. He took another sip of water. "Let's get started then."

My laptop has decided to be broken again. Trying to load any web pages results in a timeout "this web page is not available" page. My connection is fine because I can use my tablet fine. I'm stumped. Heeeeeeelp!