The Dust Settles

[Jared Vanders]

Jared waited while Hollywood asked his question.

"Actually, sir, do you know...uhh. How is Miss Grey?"


Jared didn't know who Miss Grey was, but there was a sincerity and eagerness in the man's voice. Whoever she was, Hollywood cared for her, and wished to know that she was well. Jacques response would answer most of those questions though.

"She is well. I believe by now she's making use of one of the embassy computers. You were on the team that rescued her. Well, until such time as you are in fighting order, you shall be the Legion's liaison with the Red Cross in Sierra Leone. I somehow doubt that Mademoiselle Grey will be leaving the country any time soon."


It seemed like Miss Grey was a member of the Red Cross team in Sierra Leone. In fact, more than likely an upper member of the group that was at the least helping organize Red Cross activities in the ticking time-bomb that was Sierra Leone.

Jared was patient. He showed no irritation while Jacques answered Hollywood's question, but stood waiting for Jacques to begin moving so he could follow. Jacques gestured to a clerk to lead the way and left some distance so that the could have some privacy. Jared matched his stride, it being easy enough because the two men were about the same height.

"What is troubling you, Legionnaire?"


Given permission to talk, Jared was unsure of what to say. He hadn't told anyone of his abilities with the exception of Sergeant Castle. He had been resolved to tell Jacques that he could use magic, but now given the opportunity he had doubts. He allowed a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts before speaking; it was his duty to tell the CEO.

"I find the whole situation here troubling, sir, but my reason for speaking with you has to do with your briefing."


Jared sighed, once more trying to come up with the right words. Even knowing Jacques knew about magic didn't dismiss the fact that Jared thought that Jacques might think him crazy. He paused a few more moments and then continued.

"Sir, I believe you should know of everything at your disposal. You mentioned those that can use magic, and well...uhh...I can do that, sir."
Now that Jared had said it the words began to flow more easily. "I wasn't aware of if you would want everyone to know at this time, so I wanted to tell you privately. I have to admit, I'm not very good at it. I prefer to use my own hands to magic, but if you wish it, I will practice more."


Jared sighed again. It was good to release the secret which he had held for so long. "And thank you, sir, for listening. It isn't easy to tell people this."



Edited by Jared Vanders, Jul 8 2014, 09:50 PM.

[Jay Carpenter]

The Legion's liaison with the Red Cross in Sierra Leone? Jay blinked like he'd been told he got an A+ in Mrs. Carter's math class. (She was a beast to please).

"Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. I'll make you proud, sir."
He saluted a second time, but barely contained his elation for the assignment.

After Jacques and Jared left together, Jay all but crumpled to the floor. Thankfully one of the other guys helped him down, else he was likely to have broken his ass doing it. The kitten was safely placed on the floor alongside and immediately wandered around to sniff. Probably looking for a meal. Jay couldn't blame the little guy... ahem, girl. He'd have to see what happened to the rest of the Ambassador's milk and bat his eyelashes begging someone with two good legs to go get it for him.

Why would Natalie not leave the country? Hell, anyone with a head on their shoulders should be running for the hills as fast as they could. Jay would, if he were civvie, unless he had good reason to stay. Then again she was Red Cross. Maybe she felt obligated to stick around. What was a girl like her doing in the Red Cross anyway? Didn't she know Africa wasn't safe? Not to be wandering around on her own like that.

Jay looked at the guy next to him. "What's a liaison do anyway?"
The other Legionnaire shrugged. Which was about as much of an answer as Jay had.

"Guess I'll find out,"
he said and reached for the kitten.

"Come here, Shredder."
He pulled her up on his chest and tickled the back of her ear until they both fell asleep.



Edited by Jay Carpenter, Jul 9 2014, 08:01 AM.

[Jacques]

Jacques did not so much as miss a step as they were led to a wing of the embassy given over to VIP quarters. Most of the embassy's staff would be evacuated in the coming days, after they had done their duty to assure that the Moroccan nationals were seen to, but already some of the non-essential personnel were being escorted to the airport. Moroccan military planes would be arriving the next morning to begin the evacuation.

Hence, there was a room set aside for him already. The ambassador still held her room, a few doors down from where Jacques would set up shop. There had already been alterations made to the room; the room was a single chamber, with a private washroom of course, but the bed had been pushed to the side of the room. It would eventually be replaced with something less grand and more serviceable. Folding tables had been carted in and set up, holding rolled paper maps and similarly archaic files. Africa was still a world behind the rest of the planet, especially the CCD.

The clerk showed them in and handed over the files he had been carrying, then took his leave at Jacques' request. Once alone, he stood staring at Jared for a long, calculating moment. Studying the man as if hoping to glean some hidden knowledge, some physical marker that would give way the man's abilities. But there was no apparent relation between this Legionnaire, Commander Vellas, or the American reporter Trano.

But the only connection was that all three were men. An odd coincidence that two were American, but that seemed more likely a matter of chance rather then any true deciding factor.

He moved to one of the tables and set out his Wallet. It was one of the newest models on the market; cutting edge. Expensive. Personally commissioned to boot. Probably ran tens of thousands of dollars. But it was incredibly durable. Shock and scratch resistant. Waterproof. Meant for work, not play. For life in the field, not a boardroom.

He keyed a few files, and soon a screen popped up. He waved his hand, moving it up, enlarged it. Pulled up other screens. Then with one touch of a finger they all began to play. The videos were from the point of view of the assault group, recorded from the now fallen Legionnaires' Landwarrior cameras. And they showed the destruction wrought by Michael Vellas.

Another was from the rescue operation Nicholas Trano had hired them for the day before Dominance V had fallen apart. The female reporter and her camera man, and the balls of flame that had flown towards Jacques and his team. The balls of flame that had been consumed by whirlwinds of air and water before they could strike.

"I must know what men like you can do, Legionnaire Vanders."
Could they sense each other, identify each other? Could they do more then destroy? If magic had come to the world, he could only hope that it was good for more then violence. The world had no shortage of weapons, no shortage of ways to kill.

He ended the videos, closed the displays and silenced his Wallet, fixing Jared with a hopeful look. "Mahatma Gandhi once said, 'Be the change that you wish to see in the world.' I must ask your forgiveness, Vanders. I will use you as a weapon. I will use every one of your kind I find as weapons. You...Sorciers. You are a force multiplier not seen since the advent of the repeating rifle. La mitrailleuse. If we are to succeed, we must learn how to fight your kind. How to fight with your kind. And perhaps, one day, we can know peace."


He stood and looked to Jared, "The CCD already has people like you. Jeddah tipped their hand, but I think it was something they had hoped to keep secret. I assume America is doing the same. The rebels had their own. How many witch doctors and shamans and warlords of Africa are like your kind?"


Magic had returned to the world, and unlike in the fairy tales, it did not seem to be eager to usher in an era of peace. Only new ways to kill. It was a saddening thought, but he kept that to himself for the time being. "You are my expert now. We likely will not have much time for you to practice. Yours shall be, sadly, a trial by fire."


He did not wish to thrust the responsibility on one of his men, but there was little choice in the matter. There would be promotions due in the coming days. Perhaps for the Christmas celebrations, which were fast approaching. He would do all he could to assure there was an opportunity to celebrate, and that it would not be a somber affair. It was a time to celebrate and remember the joy in the world, after all.

[Jared Vanders]

Jacques had remained silent after Jared's announcement, only speaking to dismiss the clerk that had led them to the room. Jacques then spent a few moments staring at Jared and Jared got the idea that he was somehow being tested. Did Jacques believe him?

Jacques pulled out his Wallet, a very expensive looking number and opened two videos which he played. One showed a man that Jared didn't recognize, wearing a CCD uniform. Spires formed from the Earth and exploded. Fire moved through the air and the earth was rent asunder. Bullets stopped before hitting the man.

The second showed a man Jared did recognize. No American would be able to forget the face of Nicholas Trano. Whirlwinds of air and water preventing balls of fire before they could do any damage to Trano and his female companion.

Jacques voice was serious, "I must know what men like you can do, Legionnaire Vanders. Mahatma Gandhi once said, 'Be the change that you wish to see in the world.' I must ask your forgiveness, Vanders. I will use you as a weapon. I will use every one of your kind I find as weapons. You...Sorciers. You are a force multiplier not seen since the advent of the repeating rifle. La mitrailleuse. If we are to succeed, we must learn how to fight your kind. How to fight with your kind. And perhaps, one day, we can know peace."


Used as a weapon. The words rang in Jared's ears. He had expected no less when he had come to Jacques and told him he could use magic. It didn't mean he had to be happy about it though, but as a soldier, he would do what he was told.

"You are my expert now. We likely will not have much time for you to practice. Yours shall be, sadly, a trial by fire."


It seemed like Jared would have his work cut out for him, and he knew his life had just gotten significantly busier. Jacques never told him not to practice, only that there wouldn't be much time too. Only a fool would go into any situation unprepared. Jared would have to increase his skills as much as possible - meaning he would have to use the power as much as possible, possibly even using it for mundane tasks. On top of that, Jacques wanted to pick his brain. He sensed many hours of preparing a report was in his future.

Jared breathed a deep breath before pointing at the CCD operative and speaking, "What this man does here is amazing. He's using multiple spells at once as well as using both Black and White - that is combative and defensive magic - at once. I wouldn't have believed it possible until I saw it. And this man,"
Jared moved to point at Trano, "Proves that some spells are still subject to natural laws. Perhaps that's an angle we can go at with defenses."


An idea popped into Jared's mind about amulets and magically imbued armor that could help stave off the effects of spells. Right now he had to think in the bubble of technology they had now.

"Defending against that,"
Jared gestured to the CCD operative, "Will be a problem, but fire is an easy spell and it doesn't take a whole lot of it to cause a lot of damage."


Jacques had called Jared his expert on this subject, so he didn't feel any anxiety at making suggestions, "It might be a good idea to make sure all non-magical personnel are equipped with fire resistant armor and clothing. It's not full-proof, but can help minimize damage. I have an idea about magically-imbued armor that might work on preventing damage from more serious spells. I have no idea if it will work, but since legends and myths have some semblance of truth to them, I think it is worth researching. As for recruitment, that's a problem too. I can detect another male mage, but only if he is gathering energy. As far as I know, I've never been in the presence of a female mage, so I don't know if they even exist. I believe they do, but have no idea how to detect them. On top of that, we like to hide in the crowd. Rumors of disappearances of those of our kind force us to keep our heads down."


Jared was surprised at how easily he moved into the role that Jacques had given him. He had only met the man today, but immediately had felt comfortable in his presence. It made Jacques easy to talk to.

"As for what we can do...well, magic is composed of five elements - fire, air, water, earth, and spirit. You can use each element on its own, or you can combine them to make more complex spells. I've never used more than three at a time, but I'm certain you could use all five at once. It all depends on the skill level and experience of the mage. I divide magic into two categories - Black, or combative magic, and White, or defensive and healing magic. Healing is possible, but only some have the gift, my teacher couldn't do it at all. Sir, I know you are busy, so I'll answer any questions you may have, but it might be beneficial for you if I wrote up a comprehensive report on my knowledge. I'm sure you have a lot to do."


Jared stopped, waiting for Jacques to answer.


Edited by Jared Vanders, Jul 10 2014, 08:42 AM.

[Jacques]

It was true then. The CCD was far ahead of the curve regarding magic users. The alternative explanation was that Commander Vellas had hidden his powers even from them all these years, and had chosen a very high profile moment to display them. It seemed unlikely.

Some magic was still bound to natural law? What of this was natural? But then, what did the Allied soldiers at Ypres think when they saw the first clouds of gas rolling towards them? The first soldiers to see first hand the devastation a cannon could wreak? War was rife with terrifyingly sudden changes, and he could not afford to be slow in responding.

The lives of his Legionnaires depended on it.

He couldn't help but chuckle dryly at the idea of magical amulets. He did not disagree nor chastise Jared for the suggestion, it was just so strange a thought, soldiers wearing tribal baubles to ward off magic, worn under their armour to ward off bullets.

"Healing."
How many of the men in Jeddah might have survived if they had that ability? To magically heal wounds? A thought not dwell on. Better to imagine how many they could save in the future. If they could harness that ability, men like Jay would be up and in the fight again.

"Yes. Draft a report."
He drew himself up fully, fighting off the lingering sense of exhaustion haunting the edges of his mind. He would sleep soon, but there was still some work to be done first. He needed to adjust the time zone, and the easiest way to do that was to start with a good sleeping pattern. Although a nap would be in order all the same.

[Jared Vanders]

"Yes. Draft a report."
Jacques said, sitting up straight in his chair.

Jared saluted and said, "I'll get on it right away, sir."


Jacques returned his salute, and even though there was a liveliness, Jared could tell the man was tired. Jared turned to leave. It would be a late night and he wanted to stop by the mess to at least get some coffee. The idea of staying up late reminding him of the CEO's own fatigue.

Christ, he looks so tired...wait...I can help with that!
Jared though turning around to face Jacques once more.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you again,"
Jacques looked up at him again. "But you look tired and I can help you with that if you would like."


Jacques only reply was a nod and Jared moved towards him, gathering mana as he did so. He moved his hands to hover about an inch away from the sides of Jacques head. The movement itself was unnecessary, but it helped Jared focus where he wanted the spell to go.

"You might feel a slight chill, sir."


Using magic was like using a firearm - even the healing magic was. First you had to load the weapon - or summon energy. Then you had to aim it - giving the spell direction - and then you had to pull the trigger so to speak, releasing the energy to create the effect. Jared laid the spell over him and watched as a light came back into the man's eyes and his slouched form sat straighter.

"It's like morphine, sir. You're still tired, but you don't feel the effects of it anymore. You'll still need to sleep, so I would recommend taking it easy. It should help you focus more though. Sir, I'll get that report to you ASAP."


Jared saluted again, and Jacques returned it, dismissing Jared once more. Jared left the room, feeling a little better about the situation, but being aware once more that he'd probably be up late tonight. He had orders directly from the CEO, so that took precedence. Jared stopped by the mess area and picked up a large cup of coffee before finding a computer to work on. He took a sip of his coffee and began writing his report.

"To: Danjou, Jacques, CEO Légion Première
From: Vanders, Jared, Legionnaire 1e Classe

On The Issue of Magic and Its Use..."

Continued in Practicing

((Jacques modded with permission))


Edited by Jared Vanders, Jul 30 2014, 11:22 AM.

[Natalie Grey]

For a while she just watched him eat, nursing her tea, thoughts of family and DVII locked firmly away.

Sierra Leone had been on the edge of malcontent for years, but was it really coincidence that its sudden slip into turmoil came now, lost beneath the shadow of Mecca? Even if fate conspired genuinely cruel, Natalie did not doubt how quickly the world's powerhouses would take advantage of the situation: there was profit to be had in the soil here, and its citizens were peripheral. Worse, there was benefit in their instability. Even the CCD, with its promised providence of world peace, would not balk at climbing the broken backs of these people to secure it. She was not ignorant to the machinations of politics, layers beneath hidden layers, but the thought of it left a vile taste.

In front of her Ekene stopped quite suddenly, face drained, like the very unthinking mechanics of eating had been pierced by consciousness. The wrist of his good hand thudded against the desk, then lay limp, his eyes cast downwards. His shoulders moved like he was on the edge of tears again, but when he spoke his voice was steady, if quiet. "What happens now, Natalie?"


Her face softened, though he wasn't looking at her. "I spoke to Mr. Timbo. The school is safe. The village is safe,"
she said. Natalie wasn't sure how much he'd known of what had been going to happen, but judging by his vicious declaration back in the car, he had certainly been aware. A curious gaze swept for signs for gratification, or guilt - or even disappointment, but he never looked up. The fingers of his fist curled, then his arm retreated, but only to hang at his side.

Pushing her cup back on the desk, she leaned forward, hands lightly clasped over her knees, her head close to his. Strands of pale gold hair lightened her peripheral like a halo. Ekene's lashes were curved low over his cheek, refusing eye contact, though he didn’t move away either. Pity didn't come easy to Natalie, but she felt a flutter of it as she looked at him; before the resolve to forge strength from these ashes overruled it. "I don't know when we'll go home. The roads will be dangerous, and the embassy is the safest place we could be right now. So we're stuck here together."


She lifted his chin with her finger, gentle but firm. His eyes were flushed pink, swollen sore with tears, and glaring at her defiantly. Despite the hostility she supposed it was a good thing, that spirit still remained, because she imagined he was going to need it. "And while we're here, we're going to do what we can to help."
Without Ekene to look out for she would not still be sitting idle in this room at all, but it was a duty she took seriously despite her reluctance to place herself in the role. She had waited for him, and she would continue to wait. For better or worse, he was her responsibility.

She sat back. "Go and get cleaned up, and then we'll put ourselves to use, okay?"
Her gaze lingered on his strapped arm, considering how much pain he might still be in, but he misinterpreted the look with a guarded scowl and jerked away. "I can do it."

[Natalie Grey]

The corridors were a flurry of activity. The Morrocans were in the process of evacuation, those who had not already secured paths to safety, and legionnaires worked tirelessly to reappropriate the space. She discovered that nearby mansions had been commandeered to house the flood of refugees, and heard further whispers of aid camps further afield. How much had her mother paid for? Or was this self-directed? Cynicism struck a deep discord, enough that it fluttered a frown against her brow as she began familiarising herself with the lay of building, Ekene shadowing silently behind. Perhaps it would stand Jacques Danjou in good stead with the CCD - or whichever power harnessed the greater advantage from the carnage. Control would be paramount in the coming weeks, and the value of the rhodium promised ruthlessness from all sides. It was a smart business move.

Instinct drew her to the edges of the compound, as close as she could get to glimpsing the tide of fleeing victims. Pale eyes watched impassively the little she could see, though every muscle was tight. Legionnaires hemmed her in gently when she tested the embassy's boundaries. These men bore no sign of injury, unlike so many of the men inside; she wasn't certain whether or not they knew who she was, though of course her Red Cross badge still hung from the loop on her belt, and a few of them eyed the boy at her side curiously. Ekene shrunk from the attention, curling protectively over his broken hand, desperate to hide his face.

In the end she supposed confinement suited her for now. Whatever the state of Ekene's wavering bravado, she did not think it would be kind to force him into the chaos that lay beyond. His world had shredded, still whirled and hurricaned madly about his head, and when it truly came to it Natalie would defend a single soul over a thousand. Probably the sight of armed and foreign soldiers did little to comfort him, but she wanted him to acclimatise; to see the humanity and truly understand that he was safe here. It wasn't the legionnaires he needed to fear.

But still, her skin itched with the desire to do something, less from the compassion her occupation might suggest, and more from sheer frustration. The legionnaires worked seamlessly, despite the sorts of grievous injuries that under ordinary circumstances would have seen them confined to hospital beds. She thought of the one Ekene had attacked, then, the accountability spreading hot in her chest. The reap of consequences rested heavy, even for peripheral actions. She'd asked after his welfare, had been assured he was as well as circumstances allowed, but she'd rather see for herself. It was only for Ekene's sake that she decided not to seek him out. Not yet. He'd eyed all the passing men with a wary and fearful look, and she didn't want to confront him with the one who, from his point of view, had genuine reason to do him harm. Not until she'd worked out how to untie his prejudices.

The tight hierarchy and effortless functionality of those around her left her feeling surplus. Without direction she carved out her own niche, offering her own brand of aid. A handshake here, a pat on the arm there. Power shimmered and rippled from her touch, bright as a beacon though she tried to reel it in. The flashes weren't entirely within her control, though the shining motions of the ribboned light was comfortingly familiar. Mostly the effects were subtle, but all too often she caught incidental glimpses into the bloody wounds beneath bandages that caught bile in the back of her throat.

As she explored the building, Jaques Danjou's name haunted the halls like a ghost. He passed like a legend from the breath of his men, and devotion touched too many tongues for her to dismiss the awe out of turn. Word of his arrival from Mecca had spread like fire, sparking a little extra stamina from men run into the ground. She watched curiously, sparing a glance for Ekene to garner his reaction, but he didn't look up. She never saw him. Natalie suspected Danjou would seek her out if he wished to speak to her, though he'd probably be unwise to leave her too long unattended. She'd only accept the impotence of her situation for so long, and there was only so much she could find to keep herself busy before she tested the conditions of her mothers deal. It grated to feel useless.

Eventually she gravitated back to the rooms housing the injured. Here, at least, she was out of the way of legionnaires busy with errands and duties. In the room she had picked, the wounded were propped up on the floor. Drips, bandages, the faint smell of antiseptic which curdled her stomach. Jay Carpenter was not among them. Some slept, dosed so high on pain relief that it'd knocked them clean out. If things turned worse - and in a county like Sierra Leone, the prospect was frighteningly real - she wondered how long the drugs were going to last.

Those soldiers that were awake didn't seem to mind her company, nor Ekene's by proxy. Natalie's bedside manner was hardly sunny, her humour wry, but she supposed the distraction was appreciated. She tried to coax Ekene into the conversations, silver-tongued in her efforts, but he was shy to approach. When some of the legionnaires joked about what he had done - and maybe a few of the tones were a tad sharp - he shrank away entirely.

By now exhaustion began to press at her temples; she was less recovered than she'd thought. The morphine had washed from Ekene's system and pain pinched his brow; his mood had sunk further into sullenness. Yesterday the medic had told her to rest, advice she had disregarded with her early rise. Not something she regretted, but the need reasserted itself now, and Ekene's wellbeing softened the excuse from being pure weakness.

A legionnaire she recognised stopped her on the return journey through corridors she was beginning to feel better acquainted with, gold gleaming in his grin and breath caught in his lungs like he'd been hurrying. Though she'd gotten the names of the legionnaires who had pulled her out of Freetown from the soldier who'd brought her breakfast, she didn't know which name to put with which face. Ekene apparently recognised him also; his colour blanched and he wilted into Natalie's shadow, staring up with hollowed eyes. But the man barely looked down.

"Milk,"
he said. There was triumph to the way he said it, and she imagined it had not been easy to source, but there was something else too. A spark in his eye that spoke of conspiracy. "For the kitten, ma'am."


Natalie assessed the roguishness of his grin straight-faced. Most judged girlishness from her appearance; angelic hair, pale eyes, porcelain skin, but five minutes in her company disabused the notion. Her scrutiny now had a wry edge. Yeah. Right. "Too small a job for a big important legionnaire, huh?"
She teased dryly as though unimpressed, but accepted the bait regardless, palm upturned with a smirk.

The legionnaire shrugged, grinning. After he'd left, imparting directions as he rushed off, Natalie turned to Ekene. "I'll be five minutes? You remember the way back?"
His eyes widened but he refused to answer, instead pressing his head against her arm. His weight was wearying, but she echoed the tiredness. One hand lightly cupped the back of his head, and for once he accepted the affection. "Come on then."


At the doorway Ekene's muscles bunched tight, his teeth jammed so hard his jaw froze solid. Unwilling to test his fear, she told him to wait. The room was not so dissimilar to the one she'd left earlier; the same scarcity of furniture and makeshift arrangement, the same sterile stench she associated with the hell of hospital. Some of its occupants were sleeping, others awake; Jay Carpenter was of the former. And he wasn't wearing much. A box beside him appeared to be lined with what remained of his shirt, though the kitten itself had abandoned the offer and slept curled tight on his chest, nose tucked right behind tail. Completely innocent. Red scratches scored the man's skin, and his good leg was bloodied up the shin in thin black crusts.

As before, Natalie was hardly shy of looking; an amused smirk touched her lips where another woman might blush, but practicality drew her attention to the bandaged leg. Not that she could tell much at all, other than by the swell and fall of the tiny kitten that the man beneath was alive and breathing. Which she'd been told anyway. Her gaze crept back up. He looked so incredibly vulnerable, and for a moment she was sorely tempted to use her gift to ascertain what she could not check with eyes alone, but she'd have to touch him to do it. A foolish idea probably.

She left the small bottle with one of the conscious soldiers.