09-17-2014, 06:40 PM
Annoyed, Nikolai muted the drone of New Year's Eve coverage buzzing in the background. Blessedly, the noise fell silent and he was alone with his thoughts. Marcus, DV, Atharim, anything of note that stole his interests this past week were as ignored as the news coverage. There were greater things to ponder. The affairs of the world, for one. The United States was stirring like a dying lamb on the altar.. futile, but in need of containment. Mexico was rallying to a murderer and felon; ironically, an American, and Nikolai recognized the strategy that won him Russia unfolding in that country. Then there was this other nasty issue. For the time being, Nikolai was content to let Michael and Alric bear the brunt of the burden, but things would not always be so. Eventually Nikolai would be forced to deal with the rise of gods. But on his terms.
A knock at the door roused him. "Come in,"
he said without turning. He was in what the former presidents of Russia once called their home. Just outside Moscow, the palace was originally built by Putin. The man had taste, but Nikolai preferred his dwelling beneath the Kremlin. Yet on New Year's Eve, the Red Square was a stadium of celebration: packed with millions of people, bodies, packed like crows in the air blocking out the sun. Nik might choke to stand in the eye of such a storm. Not to mention the inherent danger of a world knowing exactly where he would be at the fall of midnight. The Ascendancy - or a replica of him - would be atop the walls of the Kremlin, standing where dictators and presidents once addressed the crowd, an image of power and loyalty silhouetted against a sparkling sky of colored fire. That the blood and flesh Nikolai Brandon took the evening for himself, few knew such truths, even among his own staff.
One man that did entered behind him. "Ascendancy, there's a problem."
Nik did not look up. There were always problems, but his chief of staff's judgement was sound. He'd not interrupt unless he thought the Ascendancy would wish to hear specifics.
"Yes?"
Viktor slid the view of a satellite image onto Nikolai's screen. A reference map to gauge the location in the context of his new world's order accompanied. "Žilina District of Dominance VI. The houses north of this village are ... well."
Viktor cut himself short as Nikolai's expression grew grim. He could see for himself. Desolation.
"A 'god'."
Nik was not proud to say the word.
He lifted his gaze, the blue cold and tempting as a danger undecided to release itself. The look on Viktor's face was almost one of recoil. As frequent the time they spent together, it was good to see his Chief of Staff remember exactly what they each were.
True steel held the man's spine straight, though. Viktor was a spike of the CCD. Nikolai surrounded himself with the best. "Would you like me to have your aircraft activated?"
Although always in the ready to deliver him from evil, Nikolai shook his head. "Of course not, Viktor. Your Ascendancy will be celebrating the New Year this night with his people."
The hint of amusement over such inherent power skimmed the edges of his voice. "I will take Cronos."
Several hours later
Nik and Alric journeyed side by side across the snow. Alric was the stealthier of the two, but Nikolai was the better prepared. They were followed by two additional agents, both solely assigned to Nikolai's direct security. Together the four men would not stand out but for the purposeful way in which they proceeded. All wore similarly cut black coats, but Nik's was of the finest wool, the best fit to his frame. The pin was absent from his lapel, but the slivered spike of the Arcus band wrapped his skull like a diadem of death.
The maelstrom moved in the nearby structure, and the distaste for their task filled the back of his throat with ash. Footsteps, soft as a rabbit in the snow, poised all four of them to the edge of their senses. A signal from one of the others and Nikolai flattened himself against the shed.
The agents held their firearms at the ready, but Nikolai shook his head at Alric. They could not reveal themselves. Not yet.
The figure rounded the corner. Nikolai removed himself from the cusp of hell's unleashment and stepped forward to greet Michael.
"Sight-seeing in my beautiful land, Commander?"
Despite the quiet of his voice, the claim to ownership of the ground beneath their feet was indisputable.
A knock at the door roused him. "Come in,"
he said without turning. He was in what the former presidents of Russia once called their home. Just outside Moscow, the palace was originally built by Putin. The man had taste, but Nikolai preferred his dwelling beneath the Kremlin. Yet on New Year's Eve, the Red Square was a stadium of celebration: packed with millions of people, bodies, packed like crows in the air blocking out the sun. Nik might choke to stand in the eye of such a storm. Not to mention the inherent danger of a world knowing exactly where he would be at the fall of midnight. The Ascendancy - or a replica of him - would be atop the walls of the Kremlin, standing where dictators and presidents once addressed the crowd, an image of power and loyalty silhouetted against a sparkling sky of colored fire. That the blood and flesh Nikolai Brandon took the evening for himself, few knew such truths, even among his own staff.
One man that did entered behind him. "Ascendancy, there's a problem."
Nik did not look up. There were always problems, but his chief of staff's judgement was sound. He'd not interrupt unless he thought the Ascendancy would wish to hear specifics.
"Yes?"
Viktor slid the view of a satellite image onto Nikolai's screen. A reference map to gauge the location in the context of his new world's order accompanied. "Žilina District of Dominance VI. The houses north of this village are ... well."
Viktor cut himself short as Nikolai's expression grew grim. He could see for himself. Desolation.
"A 'god'."
Nik was not proud to say the word.
He lifted his gaze, the blue cold and tempting as a danger undecided to release itself. The look on Viktor's face was almost one of recoil. As frequent the time they spent together, it was good to see his Chief of Staff remember exactly what they each were.
True steel held the man's spine straight, though. Viktor was a spike of the CCD. Nikolai surrounded himself with the best. "Would you like me to have your aircraft activated?"
Although always in the ready to deliver him from evil, Nikolai shook his head. "Of course not, Viktor. Your Ascendancy will be celebrating the New Year this night with his people."
The hint of amusement over such inherent power skimmed the edges of his voice. "I will take Cronos."
Several hours later
Nik and Alric journeyed side by side across the snow. Alric was the stealthier of the two, but Nikolai was the better prepared. They were followed by two additional agents, both solely assigned to Nikolai's direct security. Together the four men would not stand out but for the purposeful way in which they proceeded. All wore similarly cut black coats, but Nik's was of the finest wool, the best fit to his frame. The pin was absent from his lapel, but the slivered spike of the Arcus band wrapped his skull like a diadem of death.
The maelstrom moved in the nearby structure, and the distaste for their task filled the back of his throat with ash. Footsteps, soft as a rabbit in the snow, poised all four of them to the edge of their senses. A signal from one of the others and Nikolai flattened himself against the shed.
The agents held their firearms at the ready, but Nikolai shook his head at Alric. They could not reveal themselves. Not yet.
The figure rounded the corner. Nikolai removed himself from the cusp of hell's unleashment and stepped forward to greet Michael.
"Sight-seeing in my beautiful land, Commander?"
Despite the quiet of his voice, the claim to ownership of the ground beneath their feet was indisputable.