04-13-2018, 08:34 PM
A twinge of excitement built in his gut. The fuzzy void of the future was coalescing into a sharp focus that all began tonight. Everything was prepared. The Kremlin was a fortress of security. None would enter the grounds that had not yet been pre-screened and approved by Custody Intelligence. Channelers were embedded within those he trusted. The Nine would certainly be in the forefront of those. The most public of their defenses would be scattered among the guests: black slivers of darkness. Michael and Marcus on their own were formidable in their own rights.
Sergeant Detective Ivan Sarkozy was to be present. Although he would be attired as a guest rather than in uniform, as would Chief Inspector Drayson McCullough. Jensen James was required to be present, also as a guest. Yet together, the two channelers would serve as eyes and ears among the guests and form a sort of last defense should the more public channelers be taken by surprise and all other safe-guards fail.
Not that those safe-guards were not mighty barriers on their own. Between the activity in custody intelligence prepping the guest lists, surveying the area repeatedly, and monitoring any hint of suspicious activity with the physical might of Kremlin Police, Danjou's men, and Nik's personal Barrier Preator agents - Agent Ranier being his very last ace in his pocket - the Grand Palace was either going to be the most impenetrable, safest place in the world tonight... or it was going to be the world's most volatile powder-keg.
With Regus dead and gone, the Atharim was little threat and no match against the thinnest of these safety measures. His guests would be safe tonight. They used the Ascendancy to their ends, now it was time he used them for his.
As fitting with the grandeur of such a night, strict codes of attire and propriety were required. He wasn't fond of white tie, preferring a simpler, although elegant, black suit to anything else. But the opulence was a show he tolerated.
He slipped the elegant evening tailcoat on. The cloth lay across his shoulders like a layer of warm air settling on his skin. Nikolai was of average height, but he had the shoulders and waist of a swimmer. The long, sweeping back of the coat only accentuated and elongated his body. The high-waist of black was designed to perfect the male shape into the living image of some statuesque god - a tradition that dated back centuries in the western world.
Last, threads of the power retrieved the newly reformed Arcus Band. He put it to his temple. Headdresses were typically unorthodox for such occasions. Diadems and tiaras were worn by the women, certainly, but he would be the only male. Of course, this was no diadem. It was a crown, in the less literal fashion, but still a crown.
Then the threads transformed into something far more interesting. He discovered this flow months ago, only to have perfected it now. Darkness rose from the floor and the last Nik saw of himself in the mirror was a dark smile.
***
Guests were to be greeted by staff who will take their overcoats or similar items. A brief search was to be conducted of purses, but a simple, yet nearly hidden scanner, would be passed before fully entering the grand palace.
Upon entrance to the ball-proper, a palace of luxury, opulence and wealth rose up to meet them. Everything from the flowers to the glitter of gold was the best the world had to offer. Gold and marble shone like the sun. Even the flowers seemed alive.
The largest of the palace halls was arranged with two long-tables for the dinner service that would begin later in the evening. Name-places were assigned alternating with the men and women. For now, the social hour began in the adjacent ballroom with hors d'ourves, champagne and other drinks circulated by staffers in elegant attire more formal than the normal person's wedding-best.
But all eyes were drawn to the front of the ballroom. Drawn to a billowing black cloud. It churned slowly on the currents of air permeating the room, but did not dissipate. Some brave souls tried to scoop a bit of the seeming-mist into the palms of their hands, only to find the darkness unwilling to be captured so easily. None could explain it, but many an eye was lit with the promise of excitement to come from the night ahead.
Sergeant Detective Ivan Sarkozy was to be present. Although he would be attired as a guest rather than in uniform, as would Chief Inspector Drayson McCullough. Jensen James was required to be present, also as a guest. Yet together, the two channelers would serve as eyes and ears among the guests and form a sort of last defense should the more public channelers be taken by surprise and all other safe-guards fail.
Not that those safe-guards were not mighty barriers on their own. Between the activity in custody intelligence prepping the guest lists, surveying the area repeatedly, and monitoring any hint of suspicious activity with the physical might of Kremlin Police, Danjou's men, and Nik's personal Barrier Preator agents - Agent Ranier being his very last ace in his pocket - the Grand Palace was either going to be the most impenetrable, safest place in the world tonight... or it was going to be the world's most volatile powder-keg.
With Regus dead and gone, the Atharim was little threat and no match against the thinnest of these safety measures. His guests would be safe tonight. They used the Ascendancy to their ends, now it was time he used them for his.
As fitting with the grandeur of such a night, strict codes of attire and propriety were required. He wasn't fond of white tie, preferring a simpler, although elegant, black suit to anything else. But the opulence was a show he tolerated.
He slipped the elegant evening tailcoat on. The cloth lay across his shoulders like a layer of warm air settling on his skin. Nikolai was of average height, but he had the shoulders and waist of a swimmer. The long, sweeping back of the coat only accentuated and elongated his body. The high-waist of black was designed to perfect the male shape into the living image of some statuesque god - a tradition that dated back centuries in the western world.
Last, threads of the power retrieved the newly reformed Arcus Band. He put it to his temple. Headdresses were typically unorthodox for such occasions. Diadems and tiaras were worn by the women, certainly, but he would be the only male. Of course, this was no diadem. It was a crown, in the less literal fashion, but still a crown.
Then the threads transformed into something far more interesting. He discovered this flow months ago, only to have perfected it now. Darkness rose from the floor and the last Nik saw of himself in the mirror was a dark smile.
***
Guests were to be greeted by staff who will take their overcoats or similar items. A brief search was to be conducted of purses, but a simple, yet nearly hidden scanner, would be passed before fully entering the grand palace.
Upon entrance to the ball-proper, a palace of luxury, opulence and wealth rose up to meet them. Everything from the flowers to the glitter of gold was the best the world had to offer. Gold and marble shone like the sun. Even the flowers seemed alive.
The largest of the palace halls was arranged with two long-tables for the dinner service that would begin later in the evening. Name-places were assigned alternating with the men and women. For now, the social hour began in the adjacent ballroom with hors d'ourves, champagne and other drinks circulated by staffers in elegant attire more formal than the normal person's wedding-best.
But all eyes were drawn to the front of the ballroom. Drawn to a billowing black cloud. It churned slowly on the currents of air permeating the room, but did not dissipate. Some brave souls tried to scoop a bit of the seeming-mist into the palms of their hands, only to find the darkness unwilling to be captured so easily. None could explain it, but many an eye was lit with the promise of excitement to come from the night ahead.