02-05-2018, 09:23 PM
Just before the elevator doors opened, Nikolai glanced the man at his side. Alric stood quietly, but Nik was curious to know the man's thoughts. This was the first time he returned to the place of his awakening. Alric was the first survivor of the Sickness that Nikolai coaxed through the storm. In return, the GSG9 agent swore an oath of loyalty and devotion. He was Nik's shadow ever since. Was it painful to return here? Nik did not have time to ask.
He summoned the powers of the universe into his grasp, willed it into control and entered the bustle of the Facility. A man hurried past with barely time to acknowledge his presence. Nikolai's expression darkened as he went in search of Director Stephenson and Doctor Weston.
Three body bags were lined in the corridor. Nikolai paused before the first and slowly lowered the zipper. The director's pudgy face, empty of life, lay within. He left it, examined the second, then the third.
Jaw tight, the power within seemed to writhe and churn like the presence of death tempted it to life. Nik forced it into submission. His gaze swept past scenes of the injured being tended. Engineers surveyed. Staff cleaned debris.
He had been told that one of their channelers detonated an explosion within the facility during Doctor Weston's procedure. The Ascendancy was a calm flag in the storm blowing all around, though. Something needed to change here, but first and foremost, the integrity of the Facility had to be secured.
"Stop,"
he ordered. Tendrils of power snaked along the floor. With them, the glass clinked and churned, tumbling together into one pile in the center that bubbled down into a sphere of crystal that Nikolai left safely, smoothly aside. More threads curled around the exposed wires, dozens at a time, and cinched the exposed, flickering ends to stillness. Then, he cast the aura of his eyes around the walls and wings of all five powers delved out of sight. His eyes slid low and he reached out with the greatness of his senses like fingertips curling around twigs, he examined the architecture of the walls, the steel skeleton, every bolt, every weld, and even the rockbed itself for a hundred meters in all directions. This was his kingdom. He knew every inch of it.
He severed the connection and the power settled in return. "The Facility is safe. What we see is superficial. You can tell the Engineers there is no emergency."
With the darkness of the power settled in the corners of his soul, he went in search of the cause of this destruction.
He found them in a small procedure room. His eyes flicked momentarily to Marcus, wondering how much of this he had been present to observe. The Consul would be questioned later. Then he locked eyes on Doctor Weston. The woman was frazzled, but in as much control as he expected given the situation.
Then his gaze fell onto the one sitting shirtless and tended by the doctor. Cuts crossed his skin like he had been attacked by kittens. The shattered glass was likely the culprit. He was young, but then Nikolai thought everyone was young. He had the bearing of a military man, except for the fact that he had the sense of being utterly lost.
"So, you are Carpenter."
US Special Forces, American, and a Legionnaire with a talent for explosives, it seemed. He would be invaluable if he could be channeled to the right service.
"I think you need to learn some control, young man."
He summoned the powers of the universe into his grasp, willed it into control and entered the bustle of the Facility. A man hurried past with barely time to acknowledge his presence. Nikolai's expression darkened as he went in search of Director Stephenson and Doctor Weston.
Three body bags were lined in the corridor. Nikolai paused before the first and slowly lowered the zipper. The director's pudgy face, empty of life, lay within. He left it, examined the second, then the third.
Jaw tight, the power within seemed to writhe and churn like the presence of death tempted it to life. Nik forced it into submission. His gaze swept past scenes of the injured being tended. Engineers surveyed. Staff cleaned debris.
He had been told that one of their channelers detonated an explosion within the facility during Doctor Weston's procedure. The Ascendancy was a calm flag in the storm blowing all around, though. Something needed to change here, but first and foremost, the integrity of the Facility had to be secured.
"Stop,"
he ordered. Tendrils of power snaked along the floor. With them, the glass clinked and churned, tumbling together into one pile in the center that bubbled down into a sphere of crystal that Nikolai left safely, smoothly aside. More threads curled around the exposed wires, dozens at a time, and cinched the exposed, flickering ends to stillness. Then, he cast the aura of his eyes around the walls and wings of all five powers delved out of sight. His eyes slid low and he reached out with the greatness of his senses like fingertips curling around twigs, he examined the architecture of the walls, the steel skeleton, every bolt, every weld, and even the rockbed itself for a hundred meters in all directions. This was his kingdom. He knew every inch of it.
He severed the connection and the power settled in return. "The Facility is safe. What we see is superficial. You can tell the Engineers there is no emergency."
With the darkness of the power settled in the corners of his soul, he went in search of the cause of this destruction.
He found them in a small procedure room. His eyes flicked momentarily to Marcus, wondering how much of this he had been present to observe. The Consul would be questioned later. Then he locked eyes on Doctor Weston. The woman was frazzled, but in as much control as he expected given the situation.
Then his gaze fell onto the one sitting shirtless and tended by the doctor. Cuts crossed his skin like he had been attacked by kittens. The shattered glass was likely the culprit. He was young, but then Nikolai thought everyone was young. He had the bearing of a military man, except for the fact that he had the sense of being utterly lost.
"So, you are Carpenter."
US Special Forces, American, and a Legionnaire with a talent for explosives, it seemed. He would be invaluable if he could be channeled to the right service.
"I think you need to learn some control, young man."