Chinese Warlord [Beijing, China]

[Nox]

Nox split his remaining time looking into Fan's whereabouts and practicing backwards weaves including shielding someone. He wasn't going to put in the effort if he couldn't weave them fast enough and by memory. He started with his go to weaves like fireball, the new delve and stop heart trick, shielding, and the air ropes were being worked ad nauseum.

Fan was easy to find in the news. He was taking over Beijing little by little and starting a war with the actual military. He was going to be hard to find get close to, and there was no clear way that Nox was going to make this look like an accident unless he could master inverting the weaves.

He set his mind to mastering the one trick he needed. Backwards until he could do it in his sleep. The day he arrived in Beijing, Nox was drained. Dead tired, stumbling through the train station and through the lines with little more than a nod and a word said. He swore that in the fog he saw Hayden at the far end of the terminal, but when he did a double take there was nothing there. A trick of the mind. Nox needed a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed.

The safehouse he was put up in was hardly comfortable, but Nox crashed on the wicker bed. He spent 12 hours asleep. And then another 12 hours practicing the inversion of the delve and stop weave.

Nox watched the warlords movements. Tracked him over the course of several days. When Song looked like he was ready to move in on the CCD Embassy, Nox decided he needed to do something. The CCD was considered evil here, but it was the one last hope these people had if Song wasn't stopped. The Ascendancy might help -- probably not, but it was in the general populace's best interest to take out fan.

Fan was just one man. Surrounded by an army -- not his army, the Chinesse. They fought to take him down. But he was too well protected. Not by his own army, but his power. He thought himself a god, waltzing through the streets carrying his flag.

His followers cheered behind him. The masses lined the streets and the Chinese government had no choice but to watch or to set aflame the innocents, and they might if things got worse. The whole lesser of two evils and all that.

Nox sat on the cement wall watching the makeshift parade go by. General Song waved to the army as he passed. They could do nothing. His followers were essentially his hostages. None were bound and gagged, and they didn't partake in the violence -- it was part of their worship of their god. They shall do no harm for it is the right only of their sovereign. He is their protector, we his followers. And they believed it. They lived it.

Nox quietly seized the power. The slick film covering it eased with the horde's quieter demeanor. There may be a key in all that if only Nox had the time to think about it.

He twisted the power and stretched it out to Song Fan as he passed mere feet in front of him. The man looked at him when he had embraced the power. He readied his own weaves but when Nox did nothing other than grace himself with the presence of the power, Fan turned his attentions to a spectical of his making. Fireworks and winds and the world spun.

And just as suddenly as the display started, the man fell to the ground clutching his heart. Nox smirked as he watched the world upend itself as the General Song Fan faded from the world. It had been easier than he thought. It had worked better than he hoped. The fucking power was his, and the horde relished in that power.

It took a long moment of calm breathes for Nox's rush to subside. The horde wanted more -- wanted death -- wanted a kill. He needed to feed it well. Hiding wasn't going to work tonight.