07-09-2014, 10:08 PM
Jacques did not so much as miss a step as they were led to a wing of the embassy given over to VIP quarters. Most of the embassy's staff would be evacuated in the coming days, after they had done their duty to assure that the Moroccan nationals were seen to, but already some of the non-essential personnel were being escorted to the airport. Moroccan military planes would be arriving the next morning to begin the evacuation.
Hence, there was a room set aside for him already. The ambassador still held her room, a few doors down from where Jacques would set up shop. There had already been alterations made to the room; the room was a single chamber, with a private washroom of course, but the bed had been pushed to the side of the room. It would eventually be replaced with something less grand and more serviceable. Folding tables had been carted in and set up, holding rolled paper maps and similarly archaic files. Africa was still a world behind the rest of the planet, especially the CCD.
The clerk showed them in and handed over the files he had been carrying, then took his leave at Jacques' request. Once alone, he stood staring at Jared for a long, calculating moment. Studying the man as if hoping to glean some hidden knowledge, some physical marker that would give way the man's abilities. But there was no apparent relation between this Legionnaire, Commander Vellas, or the American reporter Trano.
But the only connection was that all three were men. An odd coincidence that two were American, but that seemed more likely a matter of chance rather then any true deciding factor.
He moved to one of the tables and set out his Wallet. It was one of the newest models on the market; cutting edge. Expensive. Personally commissioned to boot. Probably ran tens of thousands of dollars. But it was incredibly durable. Shock and scratch resistant. Waterproof. Meant for work, not play. For life in the field, not a boardroom.
He keyed a few files, and soon a screen popped up. He waved his hand, moving it up, enlarged it. Pulled up other screens. Then with one touch of a finger they all began to play. The videos were from the point of view of the assault group, recorded from the now fallen Legionnaires' Landwarrior cameras. And they showed the destruction wrought by Michael Vellas.
Another was from the rescue operation Nicholas Trano had hired them for the day before Dominance V had fallen apart. The female reporter and her camera man, and the balls of flame that had flown towards Jacques and his team. The balls of flame that had been consumed by whirlwinds of air and water before they could strike.
"I must know what men like you can do, Legionnaire Vanders."
Could they sense each other, identify each other? Could they do more then destroy? If magic had come to the world, he could only hope that it was good for more then violence. The world had no shortage of weapons, no shortage of ways to kill.
He ended the videos, closed the displays and silenced his Wallet, fixing Jared with a hopeful look. "Mahatma Gandhi once said, 'Be the change that you wish to see in the world.' I must ask your forgiveness, Vanders. I will use you as a weapon. I will use every one of your kind I find as weapons. You...Sorciers. You are a force multiplier not seen since the advent of the repeating rifle. La mitrailleuse. If we are to succeed, we must learn how to fight your kind. How to fight with your kind. And perhaps, one day, we can know peace."
He stood and looked to Jared, "The CCD already has people like you. Jeddah tipped their hand, but I think it was something they had hoped to keep secret. I assume America is doing the same. The rebels had their own. How many witch doctors and shamans and warlords of Africa are like your kind?"
Magic had returned to the world, and unlike in the fairy tales, it did not seem to be eager to usher in an era of peace. Only new ways to kill. It was a saddening thought, but he kept that to himself for the time being. "You are my expert now. We likely will not have much time for you to practice. Yours shall be, sadly, a trial by fire."
He did not wish to thrust the responsibility on one of his men, but there was little choice in the matter. There would be promotions due in the coming days. Perhaps for the Christmas celebrations, which were fast approaching. He would do all he could to assure there was an opportunity to celebrate, and that it would not be a somber affair. It was a time to celebrate and remember the joy in the world, after all.
Hence, there was a room set aside for him already. The ambassador still held her room, a few doors down from where Jacques would set up shop. There had already been alterations made to the room; the room was a single chamber, with a private washroom of course, but the bed had been pushed to the side of the room. It would eventually be replaced with something less grand and more serviceable. Folding tables had been carted in and set up, holding rolled paper maps and similarly archaic files. Africa was still a world behind the rest of the planet, especially the CCD.
The clerk showed them in and handed over the files he had been carrying, then took his leave at Jacques' request. Once alone, he stood staring at Jared for a long, calculating moment. Studying the man as if hoping to glean some hidden knowledge, some physical marker that would give way the man's abilities. But there was no apparent relation between this Legionnaire, Commander Vellas, or the American reporter Trano.
But the only connection was that all three were men. An odd coincidence that two were American, but that seemed more likely a matter of chance rather then any true deciding factor.
He moved to one of the tables and set out his Wallet. It was one of the newest models on the market; cutting edge. Expensive. Personally commissioned to boot. Probably ran tens of thousands of dollars. But it was incredibly durable. Shock and scratch resistant. Waterproof. Meant for work, not play. For life in the field, not a boardroom.
He keyed a few files, and soon a screen popped up. He waved his hand, moving it up, enlarged it. Pulled up other screens. Then with one touch of a finger they all began to play. The videos were from the point of view of the assault group, recorded from the now fallen Legionnaires' Landwarrior cameras. And they showed the destruction wrought by Michael Vellas.
Another was from the rescue operation Nicholas Trano had hired them for the day before Dominance V had fallen apart. The female reporter and her camera man, and the balls of flame that had flown towards Jacques and his team. The balls of flame that had been consumed by whirlwinds of air and water before they could strike.
"I must know what men like you can do, Legionnaire Vanders."
Could they sense each other, identify each other? Could they do more then destroy? If magic had come to the world, he could only hope that it was good for more then violence. The world had no shortage of weapons, no shortage of ways to kill.
He ended the videos, closed the displays and silenced his Wallet, fixing Jared with a hopeful look. "Mahatma Gandhi once said, 'Be the change that you wish to see in the world.' I must ask your forgiveness, Vanders. I will use you as a weapon. I will use every one of your kind I find as weapons. You...Sorciers. You are a force multiplier not seen since the advent of the repeating rifle. La mitrailleuse. If we are to succeed, we must learn how to fight your kind. How to fight with your kind. And perhaps, one day, we can know peace."
He stood and looked to Jared, "The CCD already has people like you. Jeddah tipped their hand, but I think it was something they had hoped to keep secret. I assume America is doing the same. The rebels had their own. How many witch doctors and shamans and warlords of Africa are like your kind?"
Magic had returned to the world, and unlike in the fairy tales, it did not seem to be eager to usher in an era of peace. Only new ways to kill. It was a saddening thought, but he kept that to himself for the time being. "You are my expert now. We likely will not have much time for you to practice. Yours shall be, sadly, a trial by fire."
He did not wish to thrust the responsibility on one of his men, but there was little choice in the matter. There would be promotions due in the coming days. Perhaps for the Christmas celebrations, which were fast approaching. He would do all he could to assure there was an opportunity to celebrate, and that it would not be a somber affair. It was a time to celebrate and remember the joy in the world, after all.