Fallout

[Ascendancy]

She couldn't just say sorry, didn't know they had super-weapons and an ijiraq.

A fucking ijiraq?

That! was an ijiraq?

Nik shivered despite the warmth in the room. He remembered next to nothing about them. That was no longer the case.

He pulled the threads of fire away from her, pushed their energy elsewhere. He begrudgingly believed the story. As he had believed her in Siberia. He'd listened to her carefully, waited for a nuance to break the spell of his belief. It never came. His senses burned with mistrust, yet she saved his life. Twice.

The suspicion slid from his gaze. The power he wielded lessened to a trickle. His own sense of privacy held sway still. He may trust her, but he did not like that she knew his emotions. "Very well. I believe you, although I don't know why. Ignorance of self is not something I am accustomed to. If it weren't for you, a second shot would have finished me if the ijiraq hadn't."
He clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. To be so completely out of control of his power, of his body and mind. It was like his soul screamed agony across the ages.

How had the Regus summoned an ijiraq? A memory surfaced, unbidden and unwanted. A voice scratched his brain. A hiss in his mind. 'Aidoneus Clymenus, Lord of Shades, I have waited an Age for this.' Nikolai suddenly dropped the power and stepped back, hunching his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself, hairs spiked, and seeking the source of that voice.

But it was only a memory.

He turned to Aria, lips a thin line across his face. His voice was grim. "Until we figure everything out, please stay in the Kremlin as my guest. You'll be safe there from Regus. I have to go."


He paused at the door, looking back briefly, "and thank you. You did as I asked and saved my life twice. Thank you."


His gaze flicked momentarily to Viktor and he left.


***

The ZARS agent recovered his wide-eyed shock when the Ascendancy left, Viktor close. He turned to Aria. "Welcome to the Kremlin," he said, but nothing in his voice suggested that she was like any other guest.

[Jensen James]

Jensen's eyes flared to white orbs. Marcus was American. He never would have suspected. American and knew his name. A knot clenched his stomach while he waited for judgement sure to come. Allegations and controversy followed Jensen like shadows.

It didn't come. Marcus peeled the remaining bandages away, some still wet with the former wounds, and relayed sweet memories. Jensen swallowed his fear and bowed his head. "No need to thank me, Marcus. I was at your bedside, but the Gift does the healing, not me. I am a vessel."


He peered longingly up at Ivan. Had he sparked Marcus' memory? Although the answer didn't matter. Even if he had, Jensen wouldn't hold Ivan responsible.

"Ascendancy was sleeping when we left-"


He paused when sensation of the Gift being used turned his head toward the hall. He looked quietly up at Ivan at that. Was it Ascendancy? Awake already? Who else could it be?

His gaze swung to Marcus again. His voice lowered, volume quiet. "You were both grievously injured. Were you there when the nuclear radiation blasted?"

[Aria]

Aria quirked a soft smile. To live another day was good but to be believed by the most powerful man currently alive and because she had saved him. Granted he had been in bad shape. Aria had seen the leaked information as well as the press conference. Aria had laughed at the nuclear holocost that had been prevented.

Aria was thankful that the Atharim had not been outted yet again. The world was going to have enough trouble coping with these reborn gods but to deal with the fact that there were monsters on top of it - a real thread to their humanity. The Atharim needed to continue their work even if the Ascendancy outted them.

The Ascendancy dropped his power and Aria felt a minor moment of fear at whatever thoughts came from him in that moment about. There was much about that night that could give anyone nightmares. Aria nodded when he thanked her. She wasn't going to enjoy being cooped up in the Kremlin. But it was better than the facility below the earth and it was definitely better than the cells she knew he'd have in the ground for either prisoner or dead bodies.

But first she had to get better - burns and broken ribs. Lovely. She was going to be here at least a while. Aria hoped Nox was fairing better. She prayed that he stayed safe and that the Atharim didn't hunt him down until he was prepared. She knew he would hole up somewhere - they'd talked about such tactics. What they'd do in the even they found out he was a god. It never occurred to Aria that she would be forced to betray the Atharim before they found out he was a god among them.

[Ivan Sarkozy]

Ivan was surprised at the Sigma. There was none of the posturing alpha-maling he'd seen out in the square. He almost seemed...normal. Even friendly- to the Padre anyway. Him he ignored, for the most part. Didn't really bother Ivan. Not like he had a role here, other than to make sure the Padre didn't try anything. Not that he would. The guy just radiated empathy and concern. Just like in the square. No interest in pressing charges; helping the girl. Ivan respected him.

Which led him to a question. What was gonna happen to him? The man had healed the Ascendancy. Would he be set free? Would suck if the reward for saving the Empire was to be held as a prisoner. He wouldn't expect that of the Ascendancy. But Stepanovich. He was another story. The Ascendancy's attack dog, jealously guarding his master. Ivan didn't like him at all. Something about him screamed 'punk', despite his position.

Ivan resolved to see what he could do to help the Padre. From what the Sigma was saying, maybe he'd help. He knew of the man and it seemed he respected him. He'd been a preacher on TV? Interesting. The Padre didn't ooze that slick fake snake-oil style that he'd seen on most TV preachers. Oiled hair slicked back, permanent phony smile, flashy clothes, eyes trying to grab you and suck you in. It all seemed so smarmy and ridiculous. He couldn't see the Padre do that. Just didn't fit.

Just then, the feel of the power flared- massive amounts- and Ivan's head whipped around. "Stay here!,"
he said to the Padre and left the room. He stood in the hallway. He could feel the power....there. One of the rooms. He listened carefully- with his ears and with the power that he assumed, ready to act. Then moments later the feel of menace disappeared. Ivan held on to his.

The door opened and the Ascendancy came out. The man seemed fine, if a bit shaken. Ivan dropped the power. Despite the loss, Ivan felt good. Somehow, it was heartening to see him standing there. He knew he'd been healed. But seeing him up and about was still something. Ivan watched him for a moment and then walked closer to him. He smiled at the man. "Ascendancy. I am really glad to see you alive and well."
It sounded stupid. But it was true.

[Ascendancy]

Walking the length of the hall, he was making plans with Viktor at his side about returning to the Kremlin as soon as possible. Viktor was holding something back, though. Nik could sense foreboding news on the man swirl like oil on water. It meant the news would be delivered in private, and Nikolai didn't press him.

A familiar face ahead gave him pause. It had been months since seeing the detective. Ivan was one of the first individuals Nikolai himself trained, although there had been little to actually teach the man. Found in the throes of Sickness, as CDPS, the case reached the Ascendancy's ears, who ordered the man brought before him. It took little effort to teach him control. And once Ivan grabbed the power independently, he was safe from the torment of death. He met with him a few more times, but honestly, he forgot about the detective. Between Marcus and Michael's group, even Balder out west, Ivan had been pushed to the back of his mind. Seeing the young man alive and confident, even radiating the sense of power himself. A sense of pride filled his greeting. Already, having left Aria's side, and the memories of terror were faded to nearly nothing. He wished he had been dressed, though, or wore some sort of shirt. Bare-chested, he felt vulnerable, but he kept his shoulders straight and square, his chin elevated. He held Ivan's gaze directly. Someone's donated jacket of a scrub shirt would be demeaning. He'd rather go without.

Ivan's greeting was accepted with a nod. "Detective. It is good to be awake and strong again. In no small part to you, I am told. Thank you for what you did. I would still be unconscious if not for you."
Dead? Well, Nikolai was coming to accept that the universe wouldn't allow him to die. Living in agony perhaps, but not dead.

At his side, Viktor gave Ivan a curt nod of greeting. He assumed that this was the man the Under-Consul recruited from CDPS to find Jensen James. The trustworthy one. "You've proven yourself, detective,"
Viktor added. Nikolai looked at him, nodded in agreement. Ivan was loyal. There were few in the world Nikolai would trust with such loyalty, but the young man was almost too honest, too pure of heart. He was not the one to recruit when morals were gray, but he was a good citizen none the less.

"Speaking of, is Mister James still here? I need to see this remarkable man myself."
He nodded that Ivan lead the way.

[Alric Xavier Rainer]

A car that could’ve fit in anywhere within the capital pulled into the rear of the hospital. It’s soft rumblings would be scarcely heard over the background noise of exhaust vents, trash compactors hard at work, and the grinds and whirls of other machinery at the loading docks completing the tasks they were built for. Eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator style sunglasses, he calmly watched the patrolling men and women, their steps measured and unhurried as their paths guided them towards the new car. Their hands either lifting to their mouths to speak or to their ears to press at their ear buds, but not one of them failed to check and clear their coats from their holstered weapons.

Only after he saw the agents take one final look at the vehicle and its occupants and fall back into their pattern did he take off the sunglasses and put them in his coat’s inner pocket. His movements and timing were well practiced as he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to exit the vehicle as an agent came up and opened the door. With a tight nod to the woman, he straightened his coat and buttoned it up after flashing his credentials to her. The suit itself was as average as his car looked: a dark grey color made of average high quality materials, but impeccably tailored to his specific physique and conforming to the latest CCD fashion trends. The fresh scent of his laundered suit, the slightly damp but brushed hair, and very recently trimmed down beard were the only indicators the agent could use to tell that this man, who she knew to have seen elsewhere before, had rushed here.


He clicked the keyfob and with a soft pop, the trunk lid came up to reveal a plain, well worn leather bag which he promptly withdrew and closed it back. He didn’t rush into the building, but his pace wasn’t slow either; it was as if it were just another day at the office. He acknowledged everyone that he passed, whether verbally or with a small gesture, and made eye contact, but his eyes never stayed too long on any one person, assessing them and what they were doing, then he would greet them before moving on to the next person. It wasn’t difficult to find out where the Ascendancy was being held; just look for the suits and follow along.

Alric knew the leader of the CCD very well, enough to know what his needs and wants were without being prompted. Before his mission in DV and the Third, he was the man’s shadow. There was a scant number of times before his departure that there was an image of the world’s most powerful man that Alric’s visage wasn’t plastered somewhere close by. He only needed to retrieve and show his credentials once more to the agents at the elevator before being directed to their employer’s room.

He wasn’t stopped as he entered the room, nor was his bag checked; the praetorians and ZARS agents all knew his name and reputation. After performing his own inspection of the room, he placed his bag on the bed and unzipped it. the room immediately began to fill with the fragrance of lilac and lavender. With a skilled hand, he started to unpack its contents; a suit sewed to the Ascendancy’s specific measurements and taste was promptly hung up and placed in the closet followed by matching shoes that were still filled with cedar shoe trees to maintain their forms. Soon, toiletries and other sundries were placed strategically in the room before he departed and linked up with some of the senior agents to be brought up to speed on recent events that weren’t already being spun in the media.

[Marcus DuBois]

Marcus smiled to himself as Jensen dismissed the thanks after a brief moment of panic- at the recognition?. The man was humble to a fault. In his mind, though, now that he knew him, something else tickled his memory. An addendum. It had been when he first started University and was in the quad cafeteria with the debate team, monitors everywhere showing 24 hour news channels. In passing, the face of Jensen flashed on the screen, the words 'scandal' splaying across the bottom. Sex and embezzlement...that was it. He noted it only because the man had looked familiar. And then dismissed it.

Marcus suddenly felt the Force being drawn, a great amount. Jensen's face swung in the same direction as the officer's did and then the officer was gone. For a moment, Marcus considered following. But the power was just being held, steady. There were no fluctuations or any thing else to indicate something bad was happening. Jensen, too, seemed to not be overly concerned. It must be the Ascendancy. He was awake. So...he could go or he could stay and see what he could get out of Jensen. There was a single thread of rapport between them. Marcus didn't want to lose that. He wanted to strengthen it. He made his decision to stay.

The man's eyes looked back to him. The man was sincere. He exuded earnestness like a musk, his eyes pleading for compassion and understanding. Such a curious dichotomy. His mind clicked a projection. It was penance. The man was doing penance. Very interesting. And useful. If he could play this right.

Marcus shook his head slowly to the man's question, as if remembering something terrible. Well, it had been terrible, if not what the man said. He smiled. Nuclear attack. He wondered why that angle was used. Bykov and Vladislavovna would have spun this to the best advantage. A puzzle. Why use a nuclear blast as the cover? Something he would enjoy figuring out later, before he spoke to them.

"It was bad...you have no idea..."
he didn't finish. His eyes met Jensen's, showing a hint of fear. "Honestly, all I could imagine was what would happen to the peace of the empire- to everyone- if he died. I could see the death that would come, the rivers of blood as the empire ripped itself apart."
He stopped his mouth, as if he'd said too much. Then softly, "I tried to stop it, to protect him..."
, he trailed off, as if disappointed in his failure, face downcast, eyes to the floor. As if seeking absolution. "I failed him. I didn't save him."
He looked up at Jensen, met his eyes, almost as if he were asking forgiveness.

[Jensen James]

Marcus was rightfully afraid. The stress of the bomb, the threat to their lives. Jensen imagined the terrorists that broke into the Kremlin were armed and hell bent on destruction. They likely cut through everyone in their path to reach the heart of it to be sure they killed Ascendancy. The Red Square had been filled to the brim that day, Jensen recalled. The church was packed. People looked to answers in times like these and they thought Ascendancy provided them. Marcus tried to save his leader. Jensen wasn't sure he would have been so brave.

"Don't judge yourself, Marcus. You tried to the best of your ability. To be evil is when good men stand back and do nothing. You're a good man, I know it."
He smiled softly. He fell into the familiar cadance of telling a story, one to relate to his audience. "I used to think this Gift was actually a Curse when it first came to me. There's just so much power, almost an anger festering in it, then when it fills you, it's like righteous fury. Like so many others, I too believed I was the only one afflicted. Maybe possessed? I didn't know. All I felt was the capacity - the potential - to do evil with it. The world became a dark place for me. I turned from God in my shame for all the things I was."


His gaze fell to his hands briefly, only to sigh momentarily. "Then one day something remarkable happened. A curse would not heal someone. It wouldn't restore life, it would only devour it. Then the way the Gift felt made so much more sense. You know the Book of Nahum describes the Lord as wrathful, slow to anger but great in power."


His focus drifted, seeing through Marcus as he pulled from the recesses of memory. He spoke softly, recanting the verse.

"The mountains quake before him;
the hills melt;
the earth heaves before him,
the world and all who dwell in it.
Who can stand before his indignation?
Who can endure the heat of his anger?
His wrath is poured out like fire,
and the rocks are broken into pieces by him.''


He sighed, focus sharpening on Marcus again. "If I were to describe this Gift, it would be in that context. The wrath of God, a power that melts mountains and heaves the world. That is when I accepted the Curse as a Gift. Acceptance is the key, Marcus. Accept what you can do with the knowledge and limits you have, and then use them to the best ability you can. Like you did in trying to save Ascendancy. You gave your all, even ready to lay down your life for him. It is admirable beyond belief."

[Ascendancy]

Viktor stepped forward. "He is with the Sigma, Ascendancy."


Nikolai invited Ivan with a brief gesture, following Viktor to the room. The door was left open, as most the intensive care rooms were arranged. A curtain was drawn, though. Viktor was about to draw it back when Nikolai paused, having caught glimpse of something down the hall.

He leaned close to Viktor, dropping the volume of his voice. "Is that Alric? Bring him to me."


After Viktor departed, Nikolai turned back to Marcus's room. Small threads of Aether whipped the curtain on its track and he entered.

Marcus was covered in bandages loosened and dropped around his body. Some spilled onto the floor along his bed. The man's chest was also free of burns. Nikolai couldn't recall when he saw him last. The fight was over so quickly yet the moments were an eternity. He most clearly remembered seeing Marcus before the ijiraq arrived. He'd asked if Marcus had spoken. Little did he know, the ijiraq taunted his mind.

"Are you well, Marcus?"
He came to stand at the foot of the bed. There was a man sitting alongside him. Young, with long, dark hair tied back and a gentility about his aura. "Jensen? I presume?"
Nikolai's gaze incorporated the man. "I owe you quite a debt."
He extended an arm to shake his hand, coming to stand beside him.

***

Viktor nodded and departed. He didn't much appreciate being a messenger, but when the Ascendancy himself asked, he quickly complied. Anyone that spent time in the Ascendancy's company would recognize Viktor Stepanovich as the CCD Deputy-Consul Chief of Staff. The man was middle aged, with a balding head and razor sharp gaze. He didn't understand why Ascendancy was friends with Alric. He was unaware of Alric's significance as well beyond just another Barrier Preator agent, but he never inquired. Viktor knew when to prod the flames for information, and when it was dangerous to prod too much.

"Mister Rainer? The Ascendancy asked for you. Would you follow me?"

[Marcus DuBois]

Jensen was a pastor. That much was obvious. Marcus was a lamb, emotionally wounded with regret and failure. Malik smiled inside. Marcus looked into his eyes, a drowning man seeing a lifeline being thrown to him. His eyes were now slightly glassy as if he couldn't believe what he was being given. A small smile curved his lip as if in awe. "Thank you,"
he whispered. He breathed a cleansing breathe and then looked at his hands, as if contemplating the power they were capable of. Or his freshly healed skin.

He shook his head in wonder and looked back at James, smiling, in realization. "A gift. Yes,"
nodding as if relieved. He seized the Force, just a trickle, and looking at his hands wove something insubstantial, a weave of fire and earth, simple in comparison to what James had done. He looked again at James with a smile. He could feel the moisture in his eye. Appreciation for this gift. "A blessing. Do you think....Do you think you could show me how you did it? Healing? What you did for the Ascendancy....for me. There are no words. But maybe I can pay it forward. Be a blessing to others?"
He let a hint of pleading show, not much. But earnest.

Something from a preacher's sermon came to mind. It seemed appropriate. He laughed as if realizing something. "Moses said it, didn't he? That's what he meant. 'I wish that all the LORD's people were prophets and that the LORD would put his Spirit on them!' I have this gift. Help me to use it to help others."

---

He smiled. "You've memorized scripture. So few do these days. And from the Old Testament no less."
He was impressed. "Certainly you'd be intelligent of course to have attained such a selective position for the ascendancy."


He thought for a moment, finally sighing. "I can't really teach it. You'd have to be present the next time someone is healed. Even then, it may be difficult to track. It's like weaving four Persian rugs simultaneously while blindfolded."

---

Marcus made his eyes go wide with surprise and his mouth split into a reserved smile at the possibility. He nodded slowly. He didn't want to overdo it. Truth was, he was eager to learn this. The wide-eyed innocence, of course, was something else entirely. "I do understand. Hmm...."
, he said, thinking for a minute. They were in a hospital. And Jensen was atoning for his past mistakes. Healing- sharing his 'gift'- fit in with that perfectly. He'd be willing to bet that the man had visited hospitals before and surreptitiously helped patients along.

Still, he was probably tired. As much as it disappointed him, it wouldn't be today. But, that thread between them was stronger now. "Perhaps when you are rested- and if you were inclined- I might be with you when...Do you ever visit hospitals.? Of your own free will, I mean?"
he said with a smile, waving his hand to indicate that his presence here was anything but. "I could watch and try to at least learn."


He smiled, releasing the Force, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry. It's just that I never expected to have this opportunity."
Something came to mind and, almost without thinking, he added, "Jacob wanted the blessing so badly he wrestled with the Angel all night long, no matter what it cost him. He never passed up an opportunity to seize one."
For a moment, he wondered if he had gone too far. Then he decided he had not. He had said that Jensen's preaching had occupied a special place in his foster home. The implication that he had grown up religious was there- even though not true. It was hard to believe in God when Mr. VanPatton was beating you for failing to remember things properly or to Honor thy father and mother in the proper way. He had the vocabulary. It was all about speaking the language people understood. He shrugged as if embarrassed. "I guess I've always felt that way, is all. Always hungered to know more."

---

"There are questions to which we will never have answers, Marcus. I have my own, too. Yes, I do visit hospitals sometimes, but it has been a while. In fact, I plan on returning to Texas on the next flight. So I don't know when the next time will be."
His sound of his drawling accent grew thoughtful. "I don't intend on staying in Texas though. I need to visit --- someone."
He almost something else, but caught himself before revealing their name. If Marcus was as devout a follower of his former church as he said, he might remember the blonde haired beauty that often sat in the background of the stage.

---

Marcus felt some disappointment at the man's words. Still...this had not all been in vain. And who knew. If he knew politics- and he did- Mr. James might not find himself on the next flight any time soon. Opportunity would present itself, if that were the case.

It was important to keep the string alive and strong. He let himself show the genuine disappointment he felt, letting his eyes drop. "Ahh....well. Ok then. I understand. But maybe the next time you are in Moscow, we can get together. It would me a lot to me."
He barked a laugh and gave a smile. "You are my Angel, now. I don't intend to let you go until I get the blessing, my friend."
No. He would not. But his smile was friendly and unthreatening.

The door opened and the Ascendancy walked in, shirtless and with the officer from the Square. Despite knowing, Marcus was still amazed. The last time he'd seen the man he'd been on the ground screaming in agony. Now, he moved with pain or anything.

"I am very well, Ascendancy. Thanks to Mr. James here."
He watched as the Ascendancy turned his attention on the Pastor, watched through hooded eyes filled with possibilities.

No. One did not let go when there was opportunity like this.

[[with Jensen James]]


Edited by Marcus DuBois, Oct 11 2016, 06:12 PM.