Sold Out!

[Nox]

Nox chuckled. It never got old telling people monsters are real and he hunted them. It was hard to deny when you see it up close amd personal.

"The red head was called a strzyga. Lore says they have two souls. It'll come back to life if you don't decapitate them and bury them separately. I didn't have the opportunity to do it correctly. I know I sound crazy, but if you saw all of Ascendancy's announcement. I'm one of them too. I'm pretty sure that other brothers were there taking out gods."


Nox sighed. "As to how I got so good. I practice every day like with any other weapon. I spent an entire year working with my sister to figure out what we could do."


Nox finished the last of his beer and waved for another. "Anything else?"


(( I'll color it later. Sorry it's short. Out and on phone. *edit* colored))


Edited by Nox, Feb 5 2017, 04:04 PM.

[Jay Carpenter]

Yep. Nox was definitely crazy. But who wasn't these days? People would probably say the same about him someday. If not already. As to the Ascendancy and his speech about all this magic, well, Jay had been a little busy at the time dodging bullets and saving kittens, and the nuances of the talk weren't exactly his primary focus. So it took a few moments for the comment to click. He blinked. Frowned. And the memories slowly circled back around.

I'm one of them.

Brothers?

Jay blinked. Uhh. What?

"Brothers? How is that possible? Aren't you the enemy of ... them?"

Jay didn't exactly claim to have a deep understanding of them. But he had figured out the basics. Magic bad. Well, actually he saw the point. Spend a day at war with a magician and anyone would agree. Probably had its upsides too. But who knew if they were worth it.

He took a drink. The cold brew was welcome to the emotion pinching his throat.

[Nox]

Nox took another long swallow of his beer. The second one wasn't the same as the first and he sighed. He was still very American in a very Moscovian world. At least they weren't making him drink vodka. That would end badly.

"I was born into the Atharim. My father was one, his father before him, and so on for about six generations or more. My kids would likely have been one, but circumstances being what they are I'll probably not be procreating or surviving what else I was born into. Neither of these things were a choice."
It all sounded rather depressing. "I make do with what I can. I know nothing else so even if they won't have me, I'll still keep doing what I do. At least until the money runs dry."


Nox shrugged. "I have a question for you. None of this seems to phase you. But this isn't like Africa, people weren't shooting at us. Why didn't you just turn me into the cops?"
Most rational and sane people would have. He had been saving the girl, but no rational or sane man is going to chop a man's head off. That alone would send him to the loony bin. It wouldn't be the first time an Atharim got institutionalized and not likely the last. But with Ascendancy's announcement all sorts of things could go wrong now. The police were cracking down on the nut jobs because of it. Nox would likely end up in jail. Not that a jail cell could hold him - unless they had some way to keep him from the power.

That was a scary thought...

[Jay Carpenter]

Yep. Definitely crazy. Maybe he should turn him in to the police. For once, Jay had done nothing wrong. He saved a girl, as was his typical M.O. Problem was, he wasn't sure if Nox did anything wrong either. He was a killer. That was certain. Then again, so was Jay. Taking a life made a man a killer. It was the line between killer and murderer that was harder to define.

He shrugged, tipping the bottle to his lips. "You were attacked. It was self defense. As to the head? Eh well. He was already dead by then."
Or he looked as good as dead from Jay's perspective. "As to why we ran off. Well. It didn't look good and I wasn't in the mood to spend the night in a Custody cell. But really. You seemed to know what you were doing."
He chuckled at that. A guy dead set on incinerating a head was not a guy to stand in his way. Given the story he told about the red-head, it made a little bit of sense. Assuming you believed in bullshit.

"I've seen a lot of crazy shit. Honestly, the idea of a two-souled monster eating a teenager seems far more believable than the evil motherfuckers that would kill their own mother to get ahead."
His gaze darkened briefly, thinking about evil nombre. The one that got him discharged from the marines. For a moment, he was back in that room, and he could see the tears on pale cheeks, the snarl of a desperate man, and feel the ridges of his bayonet digging into his palm.

Still, it was worth it. He was definitely a killer. Probably a murderer for thinking like that. Best not to think on it at all.

"I'm no African, though. I'm from Iowa."
How'd he know?

[Nox]

Nox nodded as Jay told him why he didn't turn him in. It was self defense, but you don't shiv someone in the head if they are attacking you. But it was the comment afterwards brought Nox's attention. It was only a trickle of power but it was there, Jay was touching the power of the gods and he didn't even know it.

Nox heard Jay say he was from Iowa but he was already standing. Nox grinned. "I could hear the cornfields in your voice. It's been a while since I've had Americans around me and now I have two."
Nox chuckled. It had been only weeks since Dane and he'd flow back, and now he had two 'friends' from home in Moscow. Go figure.

But Nox needed to get Jay away from here so they could talk in private. There was no need to have their strange conversation in a public place. "I have cold beer at home and we need to have a discussion that we can't have here."
Nox put on his best smile that said trust me. Nox wanted to wield a flame on the palm of his hand, but that would be drawing the attention he didn't want to bring, so he just touched the power. He wasn't sure if Jay would even notice the new feeling.

Nox wanted to tell him how dangerous what he was doing was. He wanted to say it now - to show him - to save him.

He could only disarm arm him, make the man trust him. Trust me one more time? My proprietor is a cop, I won't be going all stabby or murdery on you. But we need to talk and you will think I'm even crazier than you already do."



Edited by Nox, Feb 10 2017, 07:17 AM.

[Jay Carpenter]

The clarity of those memories faded, as did everything else, as Jay blinked through the invitation. Go off alone with the guy? What else could they possibly discuss to make him sound crazier?

He checked his Wallet for messages and the time. He did have to be back on duty in the morning, and he did need at least a little bit of sleep tonight. Not that his job was that high-strung during the day.

Vanders was american, and the idea of hanging out with another was appealing. No offense but hanging around foreigners all day everyday made a guy a little homesick. Not so homesick as to actually want to move home, but enough to want to get a beer with one.

"A cop huh? No offense but I wouldn't brag about that. Cops don't have the cleanest reputation in the CCD. Especially Moscow."
Not that it was any of Jay's business. Whatever worked, right? But if this cop was rich enough to be someone's proprietor, maybe he put Nox up in some swanky apartment or high rise, the likes of which Jay was unlikely to ever see again.

He paid his bill, blinking at the cost of the beer - ten times what it should have cost in Africa - left a decent tip, shrugged on his jacket and motioned. "Lead the way."


Yep. Probably going to regret this.

[Nox]

[ continued in You're a Wizard ]

[Dorian]

Dorian showed his badge to the officers keeping anyone out of the arena. No one questioned his presence. He walked in and saw why. There was a flaming head lying feet from the door, and a flaming body at the front of the arena. Nox's handy work most likely.

What had the boy done?

Dorian flashed his badge at the officers staring at the body. A fire extinguisher sat in his hand unused. Dorian asked, "What is wrong?"


The officer said. "Nothing. It can't get through whatever it is." The man shot the extinguisher at the body and Dorian watched as the spray coated an invisible wall. Nox had wanted this body to burn. He knew without a doubt that Nox had a monster here. Dorian didn't know what, but from the looks of the body next to it, it was strong enough to twist a mans head.

The lights came on and Dorian sighed. "Put the head out. See what we can salvage. Let the body burn, I don't know what else to do. "


There was a scream back stage and Dorian ran towards the voice.

[Methos]

Everything was going great. The crowd was pumped. The lights were bright, the music was on point and then it all went to shit. The lights went out but the sound and pyrotecnics continued. Methos kept on singing like it was meant to happen. And then the lights went out, the sound followed. There was a scream in the audience which caused a panic.

It was like tons of little ants were scattering from the stage when the ant hill got kicked over. One of the security team pulled Methos off stage and into a the back room. They stayed in the darkened room for what felt like hours before the power came on.

Methos wished the lights had stayed off. In the utility room they were lay a body, a boy with dead green eyes stared up at Methos and Methos screamed. He couldn't help it. The boy was dead... his boy was dead.

The calm cool exterior fled and Adam was kneeling beside the boy - Troy was dead. A knife stuck through the back of his skull and he lain in a pool of his own blood. Methos couldn't help but stare.

Adam felt a cool hand on his shoulder but he couldn't take his eyes from the body of his friend - a boy he had taken in. A boy who was not going to grow up into the man Adam knew he could be.

The hand pulled at Adam and he shrugged it off, he didn't want to move. He wanted to trade places with the boy. There was no need for him to die - not a single reason...

[Ivan Sarkozy]

The day had been busy. It had been a while since the announcement- and the attack on the Ascendancy and his reveal. Domovoi had been flooded with calls, both from civilians and other precincts and agencies. Having been the pilot program for dealing in all things weird in the CCD- and weird was the only word that fit- meant that their experience, as little and short as it really was, was in demand.

Somehow he ended spending most of his time talking. He didn't mind talking. Or he hadn't, anyway. But answering questions, putting out fires, tamping down fear, explaining procedures or ideas that worked- or showed promise of working- to hungry colleagues was exhausting. He'd wanted to be a cop for a long time, every since he'd seen what a difference Pop had made in his neighborhood. He wanted to serve and protect.

And this was, he reminded himself. "Train the trainers" was the term someone had thrown around back at HQ. But holding classes or seminars or whatever- like he was some big self-help guy trying to sell a book and a box of feel-good- well, that was never gonna be satisfying. He wanted to be out and about, feeling the street, doing what he did. His power wasn't exactly transferable anyway. He wasn't sure why he was called to do this stuff. Poster boy for channelers maybe? Dumb. This gift was meant to be used. Standing in front of a buncha guys was not the way to do it.

So when he had a free moment (and holy crap, since when did it become so hard to find a moment to shove some food down your throat?) he pulled up the squawker and tried to find something of interest. Maybe he could sneak out back real quiet like and go do some actual police work.

The news was loud and clear, all the more so because it had interrupted a
Methos concert. Not really his style. He liked muscle music, dropped low, d-tuning and all that. Didn't have to be complex but it did have to be something he felt in his gut. Always made him feel a rush of energy like he wanted to punch something, which was why it was what he played when he was at Gracie's.

Anyway, he somehow made it to his car without notice and took off. Domovoi would have jurisdiction. He wondered who'd be there. Lucky bastards. Not really. They got called out too and regularly. He was just tired of it.

He arrived at the scene and flashed his creds to the officers manning the place. The smell of smoke was in the air. No. Burned meat and hair and clothing. Sharp and tangy. He pressed through on until he saw a familiar face. Or rather, a back of the head, looking down at something. Vega. He started to walk up to the man when a scream pierced the air. Vega took off and Ivan followed running past whatever he'd been looking at, the power flooding him.


Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Feb 15 2017, 12:05 PM.