Ayden had spoken to Connor early that morning about owning a gun. She mentioned Emily needing one for protection. Ayden didn't mention Emily was like her, only that it was probably a good idea for her to get one two with the Atharim lurking about. She hadn't seemed overly concerned that she wanted one. But she knew deep down he had an issue with it, even if it was just for protection.

Too many times over the past few weeks had she wanted one. The thing with Emily being only the latest version of that. The monster, and the thing with Bas' thug friends, she still had yet to talk to Connor about that. And then the Atharim all on top of it. Yeah she wanted a gun. It would feel so good to feel the cold steel of a gun again. She hadn't thought she'd miss it, but the months since giving it up for Connor she really did miss it now.

Emily slept on the couch, she hadn't expected her to stay when she offered, but oh well, Ayden didn't have to be at work early, but she did have to be there. Today gun shopping, maybe tomorrow or the next day gun range, teach Emily how to shoot one. They'd have to play it by ear.

Ayden fixed some coffee and started making some breakfast. It was nice having an American fiancee and now her friend was American, breakfast for them was all the same, unlike other relationships she'd had. Nothing serious, but still Ayden liked to cook, and breakfast was one of her favorite meals of the day.

She started cooking some eggs and bacon and popped a few slices of bread into the toaster, everything was different in Russia, the whole CCD for that matter than what she grew up with, but Ayden would make do however and where ever she was.

Author: Esther Frolova The Moscow Times


Everyone finds old, unused things in their basements, things long forgotten, things usually well past their expiration date, but it is highly unusual for a large corporation such as VaiaPlus to dig deep within the confines of their own assets to find such things no one knew existed prior to the now.

VaiaPlus was breaking ground to build a new start of the art testing facility and quarantine area for their research when they unearthed a forgotten gem. An old soviet bunker full of research and stories that have halted the construction as their teams take a look at the research and insure it's careful removal.

The precinct in Golyanovo district was not known for being particularly large or well funded. It was in a part of DI's outskirts that had yet to benefit from the CCD's prosperity, and was known for violent and organized crime. The precinct dated back to the days of the former Soviet Union, and strongly looked the part. Unimaginative grey concrete, narrow windows covered in thick bars, and tall steps up to the entrance. And a wheel-chair accessible ramp, of course.

Two officers stood at the building's entrance, shoveling snow and salting steps long stained and worn by foot traffic. Through the doors led to a reception area, walled in on all sides and an older officer seated at a desk behind bullet proof glass, ready to process complaints or visitors.

Clearly seen beyond the reception desk was a large room full of dozens of desks, the area where the brunt of the precinct's paperwork was done. Those desks did not belong to individual officers exactly; they were communal, used as needed by the precinct's lower ranked staff, and beyond were offices or department-shared rooms for the more specialized teams or higher ranked officers and detectives.

The precinct was a three story fortress, meant to be intimidating in appearance and brutally functional. Efforts had been made in recent years to soften the building's interior; pictures were hung, inter-department sports league and competition trophies sat on shelves. Even plants. Real ones, not the plastic ones one might have otherwise expected. Carpet, and renovations to break up the featureless concrete walls with rich red brick or wood paneling. Anything to give the place a more pleasant feel.

Cells were in the basement, where criminals and hooligans were housed while waiting for processing. Few spent more then a night or two there before being released or moved to proper facilities. And below that was a subbasement that had been used to store old office furniture or forgotten paperwork for decades.

That area was newly re-purposed, and the smell of concrete dust and the sound of power tools could still be heard as the building's elevator, which hadn't moved in almost twenty years, was being repaired finally.

That subbasement held the entirety of Drayson's newly formed task force. A dozen detectives gathered from throughout the CCD, three dozen officers of similarly diverse origins. The task force's tactical team was away, being run through rigorous drills and scenarios to form the group into a functional team and to familiarize them with the unorthodox array of nonlethal weapons recently made at their disposal.

Every last member of the new counter-terrorism task force, dubbed simply 'task force Domovoi,' were among those like Drayson. The ones that had witnessed the inexplainable, be it monster or magic user, and had kept both their sanity and their jobs. Some had even made a career of dealing with explainable cases, always managing to find a way of writing the reports that seemed plausible, or in some cases, dealing with a problem in a fashion that never made it into a report.

Officers Konstantinov and Sokolov hadn't gotten the promotions to Detective they had hoped for, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Chief Inspector Drayson had pulled some strings and had the pair moved to the new task force, and both men sported the new unit patch on their uniforms with pride, although both had little doubt that the new job would come with unimaginable troubles.

The two men manned the guard room where led both the only staircase that reached the subbasement, and the doors to the still broken elevator, although there was no actual need. They were waiting for the unit's newest member, whom they were tasked to show around their new home.

One day was the same as the next if one lived underground. Akantha saw the same haggard, dirt streaked, human faces but no signs of her lost friends. She'd gone back to her dwindling clan but none of those she searched for had returned in her absence. Thus, she was out by herself again.

Her slender tongue slipped out from between her lips and tasted the air as she slowed down her pace. Her stomach growled, and up ahead, there appeared to be a snack of sorts. Her people had learned to survive in whichever way possible. At times, the humans they watched over brought food. On other occasions, well, they made do.

The knife appeared in her gloved hand with a flick of a wrist, and after a moment of searching in the dim flickering light, flew from her grasp onto its assigned target. The largest of the rats squealed as the blade sank in. The rest scattered, confused and driven by an instinct to survive.

With a hiss, Akantha walked past a few of the scattering rodents to retrieve her knife and food. It would not be as large a meal as what the humans could offer, but at least the flesh was fresh and not rotten.

With Thanksgiving coming up, I thought it would be good to reflect on the things we are thankful for.

Here is my list of thankfulness (I'm sure I'll come up with more)

A roof over my head and food
My cat
A loving family
Good friends
Reading
Wheel of Time
Asc and all those who helped build FA
Writing
All of you folks who have stood by my side during some really dark times.

*hugs everyone*

Feel free to post what you are thankful for.


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Nov 25 2014, 05:14 PM.

Bas needed to change. The suit was nice but wrinkled and dirty- sleep sweating in it did that kind of thing- and he wanted fresh clothes. And a shower.

As they walked down the sidewalk back to Kallisti's to get his car, he said "Listen. You mind if we swing by my place so I can get changed?"


She was game. They passed the street corner where char still showed on the street. He shrugged sheepishly and looked at her with an embarressed grin. "So, uh, I guess I had some trouble last night. Nice of you to help me out."


She was funny. Always ready with a quip. He felt comfortable around her. Pissed him off, though, that he'd done that thing with the fire. And with the whip. He needed to hang out with Nox again. Get some practice with this stuff. Training or whatever.

He laughed to himself at the image of them sparring like at Gracie's but using the power instead. Actually, it was a kind of cool idea. Start up some kind of club or something for people like them, to learn and stuff.

"Hey, so I can't see stuff you do and you can't see the stuff that I do. But you think that you could describe it? Cuz I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm just thinking it'd be good if some of us..."
he waggled his eyebrow at her "special folk could kinda help each other out. Pyotr'd be up for it, I'm sure. And I have another buddy who's got some cool tricks up his sleeve that'd probably join. You game?"

Continued from Seeking Control

Calvin awoke in The Dream in the forests outside of Moscow. Calvin ran through the woods, the emotions still swirling in his head, but feeling better since he met with Jensen and Giovanni. The Dream wouldn't grant him much rest, but probably more so than the restless sleep he was getting before.

Nightmares. Calvin haven't been that disturbed by them in a long time. These one had been vivid - almost real. Calvin came into the Dream because of them. Maybe he could hide here until his emotions became more stable. Then he would get some real sleep.

The dream seemed different - darker somehow than he remembered. The trees seemed to reach for him. The branches seemed like claws reaching to grab onto him and afflict pain. The dream was a reflection of his own emotions, so he ran and focused on his breathing. He heard somewhere that physical activity could calm, and it helped push back the darkness a bit. He was unable to completely banish the swirling emotions in his head however.

He felt a familiar presence approach. Dawn Wind was coming and he was agitated. Calvin expected anger, but only felt agitation from the old wolf. Dawn Wind sent him images in rapid secession. Calvin could only discern one thing.

"Danger"


Calvin sent him confusion, unaware of what the wolf was talking about. He knew the dream was dangerous, but the way the wolf circled him made Calvin think there was something else. Wolves would circle their prey, but Dawn Wind wasn't doing that. His eyes were focused away from Calvin deeper into the woods - an alpha wolf protecting a pup.

More images and Calvin caught more of them this time. "Danger. Leave. It hunts you."


Something was hunting him?

"It brought you here. It hunts you."


Suddenly Calvin felt afraid. The darkness returned and the trees reached for him again. Calvin's breathing quickened at the fear.

"Star Gazer - focus! No fear. It has found us. Follow."


Calvin followed Dawn Wind to a clearing. "It's following. Leave now before...No...it's too late."


Dawn Wind froze and growled. It was too late. Whatever was hunting him had found him. Calvin felt more wolves approaching. Despite the instructions, given the way Dawn Wind was acting. Calvin was unable to banish his fear.


Edited by Calvin, Nov 20 2014, 04:49 PM.

Continued from Some Monsters Are Human

Aria called Lucas, it was a short call, she'd sent him her coordinates, she hoped he would hurry, they could freeze out here. The snow had started falling again. Mya clung to Aria for support and warmth, the girls shook from the cold and the entire situation. Her emotions were everywhere, relief was paramount, but there was still fear, Aria couldn't blame the girl one bit. She'd been there for god knows how long. Aria almost inquired, but the wounds were still too fresh. There was going to be scars, physically and emotionally. Aria could only hope that this girl would recover.

Standing still did little for their health, but Mya didn't seem to want to go anywhere, didn't want to walk, or move, she wanted to huddle in silence and Aria let her, she wanted to walk to to move, to do anything to stay warm. The clothes were disgusting, the smell and feel against her skin made her skin crawl. She wanted out of them, into clean clothes, into a hot bath. That sounded luxurious.

Time passed, Aria wished it would fly but it was slow and painful and there was nothing to do but wait.

Headlights approached, Aria could feel two people inside, one careful, the other was a mass of emotions, picking one was hard. She could only hope it was Lucas, but the other person she had no idea what to expect. She hoped they would just drive by.

The chill Moscow winter air was refreshing, although he doubted few who weren't born there thought the same. There weren't many who were willing to brave the early morning chill. Hell, most would have considered the hour to still be night time, and call declarations of it being any part of the morning to be heresy. But Hood had never been much of a late sleeper.

At 0300hrs, the pedestrian trails along the River Moskva were all but empty. The few people he passed as he sprinted the trail were the homeless, getting an early start on checking garbage cans for recyclable bottles or whatever odd patterns that made up their failed lives. He didn't hate the homeless or poor of course, he just didn't see them with much respect. They had tried at life, and for one reason or another, had failed. He might do something to help them from time to time, but he never expected much of them in return. A cheap pair of eyes to be paid off to watch something, but even then, unreliable at best.

He wore an elevation training mask, a somewhat sinister looking black thing that covered his mouth and nose. It restricted how much air he could draw with each breath, and included a hard-mount for his Landwarriors, which he wore to be able to see clearly on the less illuminated stretches of the run down trails.

While the ashphalt was cracked and broken in places, the snow had at least been cleared. Hood lived on the side of Moscow not seen in the tourism brochures, the part that the glory and splendor of the CCD hadn't quite reached yet, although even there it was obvious that change was coming. Old Soviet-era buildings were gone in places, ready to be replaced by modern architecture. In some empty lots sat loads of pipes and wire, guarded by fences and cameras, awaiting the spring thaw for work crews to resume their efforts to modernize the region's infrastructure.

Mr Volodya Fyodorov, of Krasnyy Medved Security Solutions, had finally gotten the information Hood had wanted. They had met a half hour ago, all cliche clandestine cover-of-darkness stuff, and the file now sat in the squat backpack Hood wore strapped to his back, which also housed a Camelbak hydration pack. He'd perused it briefly, then sent Volodya off with honest assurance that the man's family was safe from Hood's hand. He had no interest in the man once the information had been handed over; he had bigger fish to fry, after all.

The contract for the failed hit on Mr Talanov (or himself, or Spectra Lynn) had come from a small tech company. One for which a quick search through his Landwarriors had turned up little of interest. It wasn't a shell company, no false front or means to hide the movement of cash. It was a real company, but he had little doubt that the one who had ordered the attack was the one who signed the paychecks of the tech company's board of directors.

Someone a step or three above Mr Talanov. And there weren't many steps up from him. With the information Volodya had provided Hood, he was one step closer to figuring out who the idiot was that had ordered that ridiculous attack. It was down right insulting that they would think four KMSS 'specialists' were going to be a match for him. Whoever had been that stupid needed to be reminded how to play the game.

An alert flashed in one corner of his glasses, and a deft flick of the eye opened the message. A brief police incident report; a hit-and-run between two vehicles. A one Mr Volodya Fyodorov's car had been struck on the drivers side by a large vehicle that had fled the scene. Mr Fyodorov had been killed on impact. Initial reports indicated that there had been no witnesses or cameras near the scene.

Hopefully for Volodya's family, he had a good life insurance policy. Of course, KMSS was having trouble with their insurance provider after the deaths of four of their employees. Or ex-employees, so it would probably take a while for the man's widow and family to see their money. Insurance companies were such snakes.

Hood's run eventually brought him back to his place of residence, closer to 0500hrs. The fresh, thin layer of snow was undisturbed, and he slowed to a walk and finally pulled the mask from his face. A few long, slow breaths to help steady his breathing (and to adjust to the unfiltered chill morning air), and he went straight to the garage and pulled a stiff bristled broom, which was put to use to brush away the fresh snow.

By the time he finished, the thin layer of sweat he had built up was already freezing, and he finally made his way inside. There was more work to be done. He had to find out who owned METZAVED Solutions. And who owned whoever the hell owned that guy. He really did hate the civilian sector sometimes.

Enrique woke up feeling sore. Mercedes kept coming back. Not that he minded. She was quite fun, but the constant activity was taking it's toll. The hunt a couple of days ago hadn't helped either. He stood up and stretched, Mercedes had already left for work. She had woken him up to say goodbye. He still wasn't sure what they had. Both of them seemed content to keep their relationship undefined.

He walked downstairs in his boxers. There really was no reason to get dressed. He opened his fridge looking for a drink, preferably something with caffeine. He could have coffee, but wasn't in the mood. He wanted a Coke. Unfortunately, he was out.

So he went to his bar, grabbed a glass and filled it. It was mid-morning, so the bar wasn't open. He sipped his Coke and checked his mail. There was nothing but bills in the bar's mailbox, but in the Atharim mailbox - one he kept for Atharim correspondence - he found a single letter.

Ricky open the letter and read it, leaning on the bar. His eyes grew wide as he did. There was no way. They were small now - one that size couldn't exist anymore. Usually they were more like exterminations rather than hunts.

Ricky smiled. This would be a unique challenge. Jacinda was still around too and would probably enjoy it as well. He went downstairs and knocked on her door without realizing that he hadn't even gotten dressed yet.