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Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

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Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Reila Tsukino on Thu Sep 27, 2012 2:47 pm

Synopsis: 'Selfless' was not really part of her job description, therefore it certainly wasn't on her to do list; (however, snatching midnight cookies from the kitchen at all odd hours of the morning certainly was). At it's most basic form, her requirements as head of Fort Briggs were simply just to win: keep the Drachmans out. Seeing as that backfired, her men surrounded, and the most elite force in Amestris outsmarted in a few hours, Reila was at a loss, her organization scattered, and for the first time ever, she was completely cornered.


The lights shot on--a blaring hum like a tune from a lost childhood long ago. She squinted, waving away dust caught in the sheen. A collective gasp--a collective chill caused not from the cold--passed through them like a specter. Snow-trodden men in uniform--men hand-chosen by herself looked on at piles of human flesh looking back. Eyes beaten into ideals unworthy of peace narrowed and hissed from across the room. Everything tensed, grasshopper legs ready to flee, stationary. Guns, weapons, alchemy aimed at the very core of everything Reila Tsukino stood for. In seconds, she knew there was no chance to get through this.

They would all die.

At first, she could barely breathe, stuck in a stasis as if purgatory had already come too soon. I'm sorry she wanted to whisper so at least those standing close to her would know that she had never meant for this to happen. A place that was supposed to be safe was infested with defeat. She hardly realized she was shaking, earthquakes raging through her body in jagged pulses of bafflement. The end, this was the end. Her mind was screaming at her, sifting through the boils of emotions, trying to gather together some nuance of decision. Blindly, madly, she found herself in the middle of the room, an echoing clank of her tachi falling behind her trailing feet. She felt ephemeral, long strands of cherry blossom hair tickling the small of her back. Please, she begged inside, let this work. No more. She didn't want to see anymore people die. Suffering...was a part of life. Maybe she wasn't meant for this job after all. When Danny vanished into Drachma, did he think the same? No, he probably didn't even know--didn't care to know. Perhaps the hospital was just a cover after all. Perhaps, he really was just using her to mask who he truly was. She stopped, feet so light on the ground she barely registered her body in space. Gold aglow, Reila met no one's eyes with her own. She already knew humanity had no place here.

"I forfeit myself in return for this fort." Blistered with cold, her voice ascended like an unfrozen stream across the tundra. Her arms extended out, revealing her chest, her stomach, her body, herself. "Take me," she murmured, aching with bitterness, looking naught as footsteps drew near. Her proposal was immediately accepted, already metal biting into her skin latched with handcuffs. It was as if all along this was their intention--as if they had known and predicted what she would do. Selfless, she fell to her own personality, not caring what was written in the books. To save Fort Briggs, to prevent the snow from staining red, Reila would do it again. But 'take me' is such a lonely thing. Listlessly, she stared up into the dark abyss of the elevator shaft, wondering if she'd ever come back and see these people again. She was dragged along like luggage, silence dawning behind her, lives saved by the trade of her own hardly worth the value of so many. Still, she said nothing even as she faced the white expanse beyond the swinging door. Looking back, looking back, the small touches of time stretched beyond perception. What am I doing, Dai?

Slam. The door was shut. Somehow, she guessed, she would never see any of them again. She--she didn't even have anything to say to them. She--she couldn't even wave--couldn't even blink. Nothing. She had nothing else for them. That was it, goodbye. Heartless. She was heartless too, lost and devoid. No, no, she just couldn't do anything, but just barely see beyond the tides leaking from her eyes.

Cargo was what she became, kept alive for the sole purpose of something top secret she'd never know until they pried it from her cold, dead fingers. She'd say nothing--give nothing away but this useless physical form, breathing, living, existing. They couldn't have anything but her mortality. When even the vice of fear clung to the salt cracking on her cheeks, she still shook her head. She was here; Reila Tsukino became the sacrifice.

Locked away in Drachma, occasionally, a shadow of a figure would come by, drop off musty food, and vanish again. A chair became her home, wrists healing at the same rate they bled. Her alchemy was tied just as tight, her mouth covered with gag doused in a drug that made her constantly drowsy. No questions were asked; they just kept her like a pet, locked away--a secret. I am RIOTE's secret, she laughed to herself, fighting through the blurry clouds in her mind, I am the falling of Amestris teetering. She let out a snort, listing over sideways far enough that the chair creaked in protest. The door burst open, guns pointed at her head. Looking through the barrel at death was becoming a pastime. Face covered in grime, a feral glare still made it past the knots of greasy rouge.


Last edited by Aki on Tue Nov 27, 2012 12:08 am; edited 3 times in total

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Dai on Fri Sep 28, 2012 12:00 pm

He'd simply dropped something, it was as simple as that. The jostling of people attempting to get out of the elevator spun his body around a little, tousled him and he heard his cellphone easily drop to the ground. A single second would've passed while he waited for those alongside him to finally leave the elevator, before kneeling down to pick it up, searching quickly for the small black bar. Out of the corner of a red eye, he noticed shuffling and darkness; strange, he wondered, why would there be no lights on? Shaking his head to remove the thoughts from the recesses of his brain, an automail hand touched upon plastic and glass, feeling the edges of the phone as he gripped it between his fingers--was it the cold that caused it to slip? Again, he reached for it, now another foot in the distance, as the doors to the elevator finally closed upon him. Gripping the cellular device in his hand, he stood up and slid it into his pocket; eyes closed for a second to regather himself in the darkness. Darkness... he was used to darkness, sleepless nights were normal to him, so walking through darkened corridors meant nothing to this man--it was as simple and regular to him as walking around, under a burning sun. His fingers went to where he understood the 'Open' button to be, and he pressed once.

They didn't open.

He pressed once more.

They didn't open.

Three more presses, and three more times did that door not open, leaving Dai standing in a box, 6 feet around and 8 feet high, alone in the cold darkness. Had the power been shut off? It was likely, as they were going to flood all of Briggs. That was a likely answer--he would be fine until someone came to get him out. Calming himself, the male placed his back against the cold steel of the elevator, leaning his head upon the wall and smiling to himself. "He honore... he kororia..." Singing a soft song to keep himself awake and active, the time seemed to pass quite slowly. However, he would soon stop, hearing something crackling in his ear. He wasn't sure if it was on purpose, or an accident--however, the calmed expression on his face drastically changed.

[listen]

"--forfeit myself in return for this fort." It was definitely her voice--there would never be any mistaking it. His body shifted--his sitting position turned itself slowly into a crawl, red orbs staring through pitch darkness at the steely doors with an unusual intensity. Unsure if he was hearing things, he tried to speak. No words came from between his lips. He couldn't speak to save his life, there was no way he could. Time had stopped--his breathing, his blinking, the very shiver that travelled down his spine--caught in a strange stasis that wouldn't free him until he finally knew the truth, the ending to this tale. "No." He wanted to say it. He wanted to shout it. Every fibre of his being cried out to the world, to that darkness that he could not see. What was going--"Take me."--on? His heart screamed, his face showed fright, and his entire body took a turn for the worse, Daigoro Ito falling forwards and slumping. He had no need to understand the situation in that room. He didn't want to. It was a dream.

It had to be a dream.

There was nothing else about it.

He would wake up in his bed.

This fight would have never occurred.

All would be well.

However, he already knew the truth. A single tear drew forth, sitting on the corner of his eye as he finally regained control of his body, standing up and placing a hand upon the cold and heartless door. That door that separated them. That door that didn't even allow him to say goodbye. That door that... "REILA!" Bang. A hardened fist slammed loudly against the door. He didn't care. He didn't care that he sounded like a fool, crying for something that didn't need to be! "REILA!" BANG. Harder this time, the fist began to pound on the door in a steady rhythm. Maybe it was grief, or a disbelief in what he'd heard, but his mind didn't even consider the Alchemy in his hand. The stone, locked in his arm, rattled with each hit, telling him that it was there, begging to be of assistance... He could easily smash the door open, but he no longer wanted to see. He just wanted to do this--if he did this, then he wouldn't have to see their faces. What would they think? What would they do? Would it... be the same?

"REILAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

---

'Demons run when a good man goes to war.'

"Haaah! Hah!" A foot lashed out to the side, kicking down a man in brown, the male falling back into the show with a huff. In his left hand, a short staff, spinning between metallic fingers--in his right... well, in his right was a clenched steel fist, as there always would be. Several soldiers in the Drachman uniform lay around him, the eyes of the redhead burning with a heat that could only be seen when the anger was greatest. In front of him, on his knees, was a singular, conscious soldier. The staff was pointed at his face, and the man had an exceptionally dark expression clouding his vision. "Do you know where Reila Tsukino is being kept?" The man stuttered, trying to get his words together in Amestrian--"R-RIOTE has... warehouse..." His hand pointed in a specific direction, rather specific, given the placement of such a place, especially relative to here. Turning away from the man with a swift wave of the cloak over his shoulders, Dai approached the car, with the rest of the panting soldiers that had kept most of the Drachmans at bay for him. Climbing in, he waved for them to move on, wordlessly--he had no words to speak, for any would just be fueled by rage.

'Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war.'

Head out the top of the vehicle, the group continued in their small convoy, travelling towards the direction that Dai had been given--he felt rage, unbridled fury, a want and thirst for revenge--they were all emotions that he had never experienced to this degree before. His shortened hair fluttered in the wind that passed by him as he kept an eye, wondering where the next attacker was going to come from. As they continued down this long road, travelling through small townships, past scared villagers, they started to approach what appeared to be a large and frightful building. Even in his current state of mind, the Ion Storm couldn't help but feel somewhat intimidated. The feeling of the small red orb, locked away in his right arm, gave him some reassuring knowledge of power. His eyes closed briefly, and he moved back into the vehicle completely, looking at the soldiers with a dark expression: one that required no words to fully decipher. He was nervous, scared, angry, worried, all in one bundle. Why... why wouldn't he be?

'Friendship dies and true love lies, night will fall and the dark will rise, when a good man goes to war.'

The transport screeched to a stop, but 200 metres away from the building itself. Even from this distance, Dai could see that it was guarded well. All the more, eh? He almost felt himself chuckling quietly, but locked that away and slid out of the vehicle, soldiers and the like spreading up and around him. He wasn't sure where any others were--he'd been pretty much ignoring the majority of them while this was going on. Sighing softly, he turned the men and finally spoke. "...it... is time."

'Demons run, but count the cost. The battle's won... but the child is lost.'


Last edited by Daigoro Ito on Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:13 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Iris on Sat Sep 29, 2012 2:08 pm

Iris opened her eyes to find herself without a fire. As if saved by some sort of mystical guardian angel had swept away the flickering flames as if by magic. What was this? The walls still fizzled at the sudden burst and Iris felt herself lurch. What was going on? Occasional spots on her body were burning with a hot flame and she found herself in a rush. From a crouched position to a full-out run, she'd caught herself up with the others. It was purely luck that she'd made it. Her whole body was on fire.. despite having been in a fire and now was in the holds of a freezer. Her uniform was singed and the only weapon she could hold was a her pistol with no shots. Wonderful.. maybe she could bluff her way out. It was possible.

She'd reached the bunker like a few others but, things went bad.

I forfeit myself in return for this fort."

Real bad.

"Take me."

Real fast.

What the hell was she doing? Her hand twitched and she wished to reach forward. Something about that woman- Though she couldn't figure out why, Iris cared about her. It must have been coincidences. The fact they looked alike, the similar last name, an odd musing in her head. Iris didn't know for sure on what was going on. Yet, she knew better than to stop the woman. The way she'd done that- the chances of anyone being able to do anything. Iris was hopeless. She'd stand, just in shock of the situation. The others seemed just as shock. Iris moved her feet, but it was too late. She felt hopeless, useless. Why didn't she do something? it wouldn't have mattered.

That was the truth.

Nothing she would have done, could have mattered. She'd heard of how their leader was. It wasn't likely anything Iris had to say would accomplish anything. She was stuck. Frozen in time an space, watching their leader be 'ransacked' with permission. Distant thudding and yet- yet nothing hit her ears. Nothing was right, this was wrong. They'd failed. SHE had failed. Internally she stabbed her own brain for answers. There was NOTHING. They had t- to get her back! Yeah, logical thought 'Who dared challenge Drachma by themselves'. The immediate response: Fort Briggs did.

--------------- ---------------------------------

Well, here came the fun. The rescue mission. What the hell was she doing? Bandaged with a bit of ointment for her minor burn areas. Her hair pulled back into a high ponytail now, to keep vision well placed. Ahead of her was a man leading the mission. Red hair and anger over his body. who could she blame? It was irritating they had to play hide and seek. Who was leader here? Iris just.. didn't understand. It was bitter cold as they listened to the man, the 'leader' as it were. Among many men, the pink hair Lieutenant Colonel was standing, posed and ready. "...it... is time."

.....................................................................................................................................

"There's more to this than just black and white. The world can't be divided into that. There's reds and blues and greens and even more colors. How can you judge someone by one of two shades? It just doesn't seem fair to remain blind to rainbow, just because there's a puddle in your path."

→ Speaks Aerugese, Amestrian (Magenta), Acented Cretan (darkcyan), Knows small bits of Xingese (Jade)
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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Emmelin on Sat Sep 29, 2012 11:03 pm

The battle was done, the battle was won. Aha! There I am as a poet. Wild danced in her eyes. A raging blood lust as always. The fallen and dead and blood over her uniform. It made her.. giddy. A majority of it now was her own blood from the lacking of a hand. Ayden.. he'd have his dues in come time. The treacherous whelp. SO what if she wanted a little fun? Was that so wrong? In some ways maybe it was, but the young woman was fairly distraught in her fun being ruined. "And look here, he even made my hair a mess," she had grumbled to a Drachman soldier who proceeded to look at her as if she were insane. useless. Didn't they know when to give a lady a compliment? Ugh! Really. Nevertheless... Her eyes rose to the her new driver. In the back, sat a tied up and silenced leader of Fort Briggs.

Her lips pulled into a grin. She'd won. Victory. Ohh how Val LOVED to win. A narrow win, but things went as planned. More or less anyways. How delightful it tasted with the bitter sweet sting of loss. She'd had to sacrifice a hand to gain a win. Was it worth it? Right now it was. Her violet orbs sought the recluse of outside refuge while her transport brought her 'home'. Ugh, she was moving again and yeah. All that dumb shit. All again. What was this.. the fourth time? Something like that.. At least this time she had some company that wasn't an insane chimera. Not that she didn't like Adry; she was just afraid at times he might murder the driver. That would be counter productive.. if only a little.

Her eyes closed and she felt herself nod, then jolted with a start. Doors shut, the cargo was unloaded. That was all the woman was to her. An item, a prize. Valeria smirked and bit her lip. Oh how she was enjoying this. Probably a bit too much, in fact. The sound of her feet were moving on the Drachman snow as they moved through the land to the storehouse. Lock the missy up and of course Val was the type to add insult to injury. Her eyes looked into the eyes of this woman. Through the cell walls, she addressed her little prisoner. "Welcome to Hell. Please, enjoy your stay and hesitate asking me for anything."

A cruel smile flickered on Val's lips. Death. She'd killed innocent people and felt no remorse and the smile on her face let this pet know. Her esparian accent swayed in and out of line. Arms crossed beneath her chest while she mused as if this were the greatest day on earth for her. "While you stay here and rot~ I'M going to go bathe off the blood of all your comrades." The words cold were dropped heavily. "Feel lucky my mission was over. I was feeling kind that one of your members spared my life, so I only killed about half of your men." It was a game, a joke. Her voice faded into laughter. Her face showed satisfaction. Then, she walked away from the place and stood outside a moment. What was the point of this anyways? Valeria was unsure, but orders were orders.

A whole separate agenda was to be seen as she slid into the shadows.


Last edited by Valeria Diablos on Sun Oct 14, 2012 3:10 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Sun Sep 30, 2012 11:03 pm

Peach had left soon after arriving with the news he had, as he'd had something to attend to, it seemed, leaving Einy alone, to contemplate his dream, his situation, and Reila's fate. Here he was, a complete and utter fool, who'd tried in vain to avenge his father, alone, against a ship. What was the old saying? "A single stone thrown cannot move a mountain, though a mountain can crack the hardest stone." Oh, how that had proven true. He'd certainly been broken. His ribs, his back, his chest, his legs, his arms, his head; ALL of him was in pain. But nothing more than his heart.

Not physical pain, either. The emotional agony of knowing his father was dead, his brothers and sisters and cousins and nephews and nieces, they'd all likely been slain similarly, his brothers of arms at Briggs were slain, Reila was captured, and here he was, a useless pile of bones and bandages, with at least four IV drips, at least one of which, he knew was morphine, and another likely of blood. He felt he had enough blood. And the morphine was petty, a pathetic solution. One that failed, as well.

He strained his hands and feet with a fiery expression of determination on his old face. A grunt here, a jerk here, and finally, the metal tore from one wrist, and he felt the spike of anguish from moving his arm. He grabbed the other shackle, and pulled, tearing it off, and tore out the IV tubes, sitting up, almost crying from the agonizing blast of intense pain, he tore off his ankle shackles, ignoring the fact they were in place to keep him from hurting himself; he was hurt beyond repair already, he could stand a little more. With great effort, he rose from the bed and stumbled over slowly to his hammers.

Both were there, a testament that this was not a dream; he'd never be able to mimic the exquisite details he was so fond off on his own hammer, let alone his father's. Lifting both, he winced, and began lumbering out of the room, hammers acting as canes.

Tap. Clunk, clunk, tap.

One foot after the other, he moved, ignoring all but his mission. He could catch the rescue party, wherever they were. He knew there'd be one; everybody loved Reila, they'd want her back ASAP.

"Sir, what in God's name are you doing!? Put those down, get back to your bed!"

"Reila..."

"Sir, please, get back to your bed, or I WILL call for security!"

"No... No... Reila. Reila... Must... Reila... No..."

"Sir, SIR! Security! We have a situation on the third floor, Intensive Care Unit; a badly injured patient is attempting to leave, still in critical condition!"

"I'm... I'm fine... Reila... Must... Get... To Reila!" He coughed, a drawn out, painful cough, as two male nurses attempted to take his hammers and move him back to his bed. He growled at them, and 'gently' knocked one off his feet with a shove, elbowing the other to the side. "NO! REILAAAAAAAAA!" It was then he began to pick up his pace, as the men tried to catch up to him, sedatives in hand, but to no avail; effortlessly, even in this state, he smacked them down again, and pressed on.

Eventually, after the fifth attempt, they'd given up. He obviously had more willpower than they had anything, and he was going to use it. So he pushed ever forward, shedding the bulkier casts and wrappings, and the less important ones, revealing a good amount of wounds, but keeping his larger wounds under healing wraps still.

He marched to Briggs HQ, from the hospital. It wasn't too long after Reila'd been kidnapped, a few hours perhaps, and the base was almost deserted, Dai's search party having left already. Asking around for a little bit, he found out which way the group had went, and searched the base for not too long, before finding a large horse in the stable, for the occasions that the men and women of Briggs may have needed them. Thankfully, they'd survived the RIOTE attack, and Einy saddled one up, and sat upon it, choosing the largest of them, and cracked the reins, allowing the horse to rear up on its hind legs, before charging into the night. It was a HORSE, of course, and likely not the fastest mode of transport he could have used, but he was desperate. At any rate, it would do.

It had to do.

---------------------------------------------------

He rode up just behind the convoy as they stopped, having taken a few shortcuts to catch up properly. Dismounting immediately, he tripped and fell into the snow, but quickly stood, with a spluttering cough, and hobbled over to Dai on his makeshift canes, his hammers. "Lt. Colonel..." As weak as his voice was, it didn't seem at all unlikely to be interrupted by another hoarse cough, but the large man still stared down into Dai's eyes, fire lit in his own, despite his body's many handicaps placed upon him by the Esparians and their guns. "Ito... I came as fast as I... Could. Rei... Reila. They didn't hurt... Her, did they?" His eyes temporarily clouded with pure, unbridled rage, as he glanced ahead of the convoy. "For if they did...

Then may the Gods... Have mercy. Because I... I won't."



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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Reila Tsukino on Sun Oct 14, 2012 2:29 pm

Her teeth were bared--she felt inhuman, rusted metal yanked taught to the bitter end of scabbed bone and dried blood. Nothing left unthrashed, the jangle of chains recurred downward around the faulty leg of the wooden chair. The barrel of the gun sneered at her with vibrant glints of release, but her eyes were laughing. Take me--me, but you can never make me something I'm not. The gag had lost most of its dizzying scent, her head reeling only minutely against the shrouding dimness. Faint ticklings of perception trickled into her consciousness, the owner of the gun's beady brown eyes latched tightly onto her face. He pulled her nearer, pink hair splaying against her shoulders to fall down the back of the chair. Thrusting his face into hers, he whispered cruel words into ringing ears. Beyond hearing, she simply blinked, seeing nothing save for a stained wall across from where she was positioned. The lips moved from her ear and to her own chapped, lusting against them in fervent desire. Still she stayed, heart pumping in her throat for words that would not coil to the surface. Constricting hatred boiled there, a burn so great it brought tears to her eyes, but the restraints had already begun to break. Forcing her mouth open, a foul stench simmered into her lungs, festering there like a ripened disease. Her tongue stationary, he threw it upwards with his own, muffling the gags coming from her--the searing bile in her throat. Her legs kicked upwards, eyes ablaze with something crazy. The chair had suddenly fallen out from under her, a heavy weight pressed against the bare folds of her skin and the dusty floor. Ragged clothes in disarray, hands came together, glowing in the darkness around those wandering eyes already raping her. Tearing at the seams, the cold caressed her pale skin while the tip of her boot ate whatever defined the man between his legs. An expected climax resided in the Drachman's pained yelp, his body slamming hard into hers. She grunted, air knocked out of her thankfully, for it contained him. His grip clutched her bra, pulling it as leverage to sit up on his knees. It gave way, unlatching, and leaving a burn across the top of her ribs. A sharp hissing, the glow growing more vibrant, yet left unnoticed. "I'll make you enjoy it." The busted article of cover was strewn to the side, rolling uselessly into the corner out of reach. Nervousness took her firmly, his hands having their way. She let her eyes fall hooded with pleasure, the fabric sprayed with paralyzing drugs now helplessly around her neck. Mind clear, she tuned out his touches--his proddings--his malicious eyes lowering faster each moment, and in a serene voice, whispered.

"Cut me." He stopped, hands frozen now at her hips, face buried into her bare chest. He moved over her, eyes narrowed inquisitively, expecting another feeble kick to the crown jewels. "That's the only way," she cooed, letting the phantom touches leak into her blissful expression. She'd never been touched this way. It felt good. It felt good, she told herself, eating her own heart. What could only be described as pure evil curled onto his face, a hand digging around in his pocket. He withdrew a butterfly knife seething with a Drachman title, flipping it open, and holding it to her as if asking where. A pause ensued, Reila's mind transcended into a blur of science and calculations. She barely noticed he was waiting for a verbal response. Just do it, her thoughts sweltered, ignoring the repugnant jabbing of the broken chair under her and what was pressed against her front. He raised the knife, sliding it easily across the side of her neck. Immediately, the heat of blood dripped down, pooling along her collar bone. In that instant, the handcuffs preventing her resistance turned into puddy. Shaped like liquid metal, they stretched into a long pole, pointed into a spear head, forming already through him. His body lurched, a gurgle bubbling at the back of his throat.

"H-how?" He was already dead before she could answer. Under her was the shattered formula preventing her alchemy. His knife hovered now just outside her magnetic field, buzzing with the sacrifice of the iron in her blood. Golden eyes ferocious, she pulled out the spear made from her handcuffs and their chains, shaking off the blood like trash.

"I'm a virgin, bitch." A pounding came at the door, shouting wafting through in Drachman. His fun would have been short-lived anyway. Brushing herself off, she tied the remaining clothes over her chest, luckily still having on baggy pants and her boots which she used to kick down the door. In two strokes, the men outside lay mulling over their actions in death. She stepped over them, clawing her way out of hell, dripping in their blood with a horrified cackle.

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:00 pm

(Going through something since Nero's somewhat recently been approved and thought he should enter but hasn't been a playable character much since... months ago...)

-A while hours ago-

Nero sat on his bed with a small sigh, before standing up and putting on a shirt as he got up from an hours nap. Granted it was cold, but for some reason, unknown to him, he woke up fairly often, without a shirt. The shirt he put on was a fairly large shirt, even for him, in which he would then stretch a little before looking at his bed and quickly made it. He soon grabbed his red and dark blue over coat, and grabbed put on his normal clothes which included dark pants, boots, and the headband which protected his forehead. He went to leave his room before he heard something, whom it sounded like it had come from the person who had brought him to Briggs. "I forfeit myself in return for this fort." Nero heard before stopping in his tracks just before reaching his door, and soon hearing her speak once more. "Take me" Nero clenched his left hand before growling, and turning back to grab his sword which was as tall as he was, and had a golden hue.

"Lieutenant General... You saved me by bringing me here... I won't forget that..." Nero said to himself before leaving his room and quickly walking out of the general area of his room, putting his sword on his back, and clipping it to it's holder before getting back onto what he was focusing on.

Nero's face had the look of pure determination on it. Usually he would be chatty with others in Briggs, but due to it seeming that Reila being taken by Riote. He made his way to one of the helicopters and told the pilot everything and got in.

-A while later-

Nero jumped the couple feet from the helicopter to the ground as the pilot chose not to land all the way and soon flew off after Nero had jumped off. He made his way to the RIOTE warehouse. He soon noticed men with guns and hid behind a large boulder hoping the had not seen him. "Damn it." He said, with a small sigh, knowing he couldn't last too long against gunfire. His alchemy was useless in this instance and his sword wasn't a good shield against gunfire as well.

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Dai on Mon Oct 15, 2012 6:25 am

A long shudder slid down the spine of the male as he stood before the soldiers; his eyes glimmering slightly from the light of the sun that bore down upon them, hidden somewhat by the dark clouds that streamed through the sky. In the corner of his right eye, he could see the warehouse--that place would be rubble by morning, especially if he had anything to do with it. The sound of his own swallowing reached his ears, and he closed his eyes briefly in order to gather himself completely. Voices were aimed at him--soldiers that were out for blood, among other things. His right hand went down to the weapon that hung on his hip; his smile widened slightly, almost confident in his chances. Without warning, they snapped open in order to take in the group in front of him. Eighty good men... he wasn't Jethro, but he decided that he should at least give a speech, or something. Fumbling over the words in his head, the man placed a hand on his hip and sighed, looking at the soldiers with grim eyes and a face that showed many, many more years than his true age.

"Soldiers of Briggs," his voice was loud, powerful and yet reserved; holding back from itself in order to hide the rage that could barely be suppressed, "We are here, because we know what we need to do. We are here because of our loyalties, and the times that we've shared." His red eyes glistened, edged with the tears of anger and sadness that threatened to breach through. "In that building is Reila Tsukino, our leader and the woman we've pledged all of our loyalties to. In order to save our lives and the Fort, she sacrificed herself," His face was steely, hiding as much of the lingering emotion as it could, "And so, we will do the same. We will take this warehouse. We will defeat RIOTE's troops. As soldiers of Briggs, we will show them that our leader is not theirs to take!" The sword was quickly drawn from the sheathe, the invisible blade unseen until Daigoro clicked his fingers and placed them upon the side--a crackling of blue, and the sword came into appearance. Quickly held up into the air, the expression on Dai's face changed completely--it was confident, cool, collected; he was here and he was ready. Turning to face the warehouse, he lowered the sword, taking a single step forwards. Of course, they hadn't noticed anything yet. He had to wonder, though--would Angelier work well as a distraction? He'd heard from a few people that a helicopter had left Briggs and headed towards Drachma, with Nero's name dropped for the flight. Fool. Closing his eyes and sheathing Excalibur, Dai would sigh softly. "Alright. Iris, stay alongside me." Stepping forwards, he would raise an arm up and grin.

[begin]

"Egil!" He addressed the Lokhyn that stood nearby. "I ask of you, please keep them safe. Force the attack, distract them as much as you can. And come back alive." With a nod, Dai would suddenly break off into a run, beckoning for the pink-haired woman known as Iris to follow him. While the soldiers of Briggs would be attacking the warehouse from the front, he and Iris would burst through the side and force their way to find Reila. Swallowing back his nervousness, the redhead slowed down as he started to approach the building, creeping around a few trees to watch from shadows--he would wait and watch for the first explosions of attack to resound from the outside. Letting his breathing steady, he watched, and waited. For ten seconds, he held his position; the seconds seemed to melt into hours, even if it weren't so.

And then, the mortars played their symphony. The sounds of the first barrage whistled through the Drachman sky as Dai watched onwards; the projectiles colliding against the ground, just in front of the warehouse. Explosions rung out as Dai watched, grinning and turning his head, motioning forwards as a large number of guards ran outside; Dai and Iris in their blindspots. "Let's go." He motioned for her to follow: whether or not she did in the end was up to her as the male began to run towards a side door. A soldier popped up out of nowhere, and was quickly dispatched with a foot planted in his chest and a shout from the male. The door to his right was shut and locked, but that no longer mattered. Clicking the fingers of his left hand, five times in quick succession, Daigoro smirked. A red glow shone, and he planted his hand directly against the door itself. After about half a second, the entire door flashed a bright white, causing Dai to quickly jump back and shield his eyes, motioning for Iris (if she was there) to do the same. An explosion rung out, and Dai ran into the building, prepared to do what it took to rescue her. "Let's go."
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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Mon Oct 15, 2012 9:09 am

It was true; in a way, from his dampened, weakened state, the powerful man of Thor could do very little. Admittedly, he'd found it difficult to walk at all, let alone charge into battle at its lead, hammers in hand. He'd have been a far greater liability than an asset to her rescue, many could say.

But he wouldn't be. Especially not after the speech of the red-headed man he was proud to call a brother-at-arms, one of his fellow Briggs soldiers, and probably the one man here who would just stubbornly refuse to do any less than 200% for Reila's return. This man f mixed races Einy couldn't exactly place... He bore the warrior's spirit far better than the vast majority of the Lokhyn warriors of his homeland. Einherjar could respect that.

As the speech went on, though, it did help him considerably; the inspiring words of anger, boldness, and camaraderie, the love for the woman kept in a cell for her martyrdom, they gave him just the strength he needed to put aside some of his injuries. He'd certainly feel them the next day, but he wasn't concerned. If this battle for Reila was to occur, he wanted to be there, to help out in any way he could, so he didn't mind the consequences one bit.

As the speech came to a close, he noted as Dai spoke to a girl who seemed to strongly favor Reila, but whom he couldn't quite recall by name. Ira, maybe. But soon the time came for Dai to address him, and he stood facing the smaller man. "I'll do..." Still interrupted by a coughing fit now and then, he paused only briefly, and when he could speak again, it was with a weak, but meaningful, smile. "My best... You too, Daigoro... Don't die on... Me. Reila wouldn't like that. Be strong, Daigoro… Not a Drachman eye will see… Not when we’re… Done with them.” A firm nod from the giant, and he walked towards the soldiers of Briggs as Dai and the pink-haired one went towards the building. “MORTARS! ON MY MARK!

A hand raised, he watched as Dai and the girl moved. “THREE!” They were slowly receding into the snow and the shadows of the Drachman base. “TWO!” Soon he couldn’t see them but as dots, and he saw yet more dots coming slowly near the pair, enemies.

HHHHYYYYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!

Slamming his hand down towards the ground, he heard the thumps as he raised his battle cry, the beautiful sounds of a drawn out roar of combat intermingling with the soft thumping of mortars firing, and the booming crash of them as they struck the ground in a hot blast of fire. “AGAIN!” The next wave of mortars fired, now in harmony with the inspired shouts of the Briggs soldiers. “AGAIN!” Yet again, another wave of mortars fired, the battle cries fading a little into the dark. “INFANTRY! ATTAAAAAAAAAAACK!!” And with a heaving step forward, he led the charge, as Dai and iris had disappeared from his sight. A full-scale assault would definitely commandeer the Drachmans’ attention. “FOR REILAAAAA!!

And lead the charge he did; mortars continued pumping forth, sending waves of destruction at the base, as now men armed with assault rifles came forth, thundering away at the base’s windows and the men outside, with a steady chugga-chugga-chugga of machinegun fire. He, however, pressed further, alongside those others who believed in close combat. Storming the burning fields of ice and snow, he saw many Drachmans, and thanked Odin’s good grace none of them were his granddaughter. He saw a pair of soldiers moving, unaware of him, headed for cover. They turned to see him, eyes widened, and they turned their guns. Too late.

With a pull of his left hand, the Heathen Hammer flew with force, colliding with flesh; it smashed through bone and flesh indiscriminately, tearing the right-most man’s face into a poorly made sculpture of a dried up squash. Pulling it back, it hit the man’s ankle, smashing it and sending him to the ground. With the hammer in his right hand, the hammer of his father, he struck down on the man’s chest, in an eruption of blood, as hardened steel hit flesh, crushed bones, and stopped the man’s heart cold. Not more than ten seconds had passed, but these first victories felt as if in slow motion. He moved on, automated with one purpose in mind.

Reila.

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Iris on Mon Oct 15, 2012 11:26 am

"Soldiers of Briggs, we are here, because we know what we need to do. We are here because of our loyalties, and the times that we've shared. In that building is Reila Tsukino, our leader and the woman we've pledged all of our loyalties to. In order to save our lives and the Fort, she sacrificed herself. And so, we will do the same. We will take this warehouse. We will defeat RIOTE's troops. As soldiers of Briggs, we will show them that our leader is not theirs to take!" Now that was a pep-talk that Iris could sit through. That man, Jet, often had long-winded mannerisms that left Iris to fall asleep. Sure, she was told they were good, but JESUS and hour was way too fucking long, Sometimes they'd drag on longer... so she was told. Nevertheless, this was not a time to be thinking of the man. It was a time for action, a time to save the person who represented all they were fighting for. Sure, Iris barely knew the woman, but she'd be damned if she let some Frostbitten hussy put them in checkmate.

The word battle was done and positive moral flickered in the form of silent cheering eyes. He'd won their confidence and loyalty, but truly was it even needed to win? "Alright. Iris, stay alongside me." She nodded to him. There was no argument. Iris was the kind of girl who listened to her orders, no matter what the cost. It was almost instinctively, that she moved up beside him to answer his call. The pink eyes of her own looking over the fractured people they had left and yet. Those broken few were still more than enough to send the Drachman puppies home. Iris was sure of that. Out of her own pocket, she'd slip free a piece of folded paper. In her hand, it stood like a steeple, pointing away from her and towards any doomed enemies. She would not relax until their mission was accomplished. Game face.. on!

Daigoro Ito sputtered something about a distraction to a large and injured individual. The man accepted it and spoke back. No arguments, no fights. It was all a plan accepted by the peers. She let them have their moment, before Ito motioned it was time to make a move on it. "Let's go." He motioned her to follow. Iris didn't hesitate. The two made their way to the side. It was weird to Iris, almost like a mission impossible movie and yet, it all oddly fit. This wasn't just a planned out script, this dealt with real people, real life and the consequences of failure- Iris didn't want to think of. Besides, she wasn't about to fail her leader again.

A man had poked out of somewhere, only to be abruptly thrown aside. As if he were just an inflatable man, he was thrown by a kick, tumbling out of the way. Her eyes followed silently while a blade of glowing colors appeared and her co worker would cut(?) the door down. More looked like a damn explosion, but hey, the locked door was then open. Who was she to complain? "Let's go." He said again. Well, seemed she was getting one of two lines, but hell, it was more than most gave her. She nodded, her ponytail swaying from the head motion and her silent body, stalked behind him. They were creeping into the unknown.

.....................................................................................................................................

"There's more to this than just black and white. The world can't be divided into that. There's reds and blues and greens and even more colors. How can you judge someone by one of two shades? It just doesn't seem fair to remain blind to rainbow, just because there's a puddle in your path."

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Emmelin on Fri Oct 26, 2012 7:59 pm

Tap, tap, tap. Her feet moved with precision and elegance despite her body being off balance. She was still in shock, still at a loss. How cruel the man had been, to take away something that was a part of her beauty. She was only at less than her full self and yet, she still had a duty. What drove her so far for a man she hardly even knew? In fact.. what made her do anything really? She didn't really understand it. There was nothing left to gain. She'd challenged her mentor and found the facility had nothing to suit her rather picky tastes. Though she understood and sort of supported the case it wasn't a full thought that made sense to her. How could blatantly destroying them all be even fun? Where was the fun in wiping out existence in one simple swoop. No, she enjoyed more of the picking them off one by one. Torture them slowly and then, she would send them to Hell. Really even that was just a blink away.

Above her she could hear the blades of a copter in the distance and a vague breeze washed her shoulders. Slowly, she wet her palette. The skin of her teeth clear as she made her move. It was all just a game for her, for them all. Let them have their petty general and let the Drachman henchmen do as they pleased with her body. In a way the thought was of jealousy. How could a woman so.. like that be more approachable than the vixen before them. Maybe it was her games were old, maybe she was washed out, but it didn't matter for now. She'd had a taste of pain much more bitter than before and she wanted so bad to unleash it, but now was not the time. Her part had not fully played out yet. This whole thing seemed a bit of a game of 'Ring Around the Rosey', and if she didn't watch it, the end result might be similar. A pocket full of posies was little to be given to a body on the ground. Would a choice truly be made or not? Silently, Valeria chuckled and her hand slid into her coat. Her hand then pulled out a phone. Lack of reception. Well shit. Oh well, she'd have to deal.

She could hear a man in the distance screaming, what for she wasn't sure. Soon the back up would be here and she would be with an unfulfilled prospect. Oh.. that was no good. She'd have to make sure to keep her contract 'clean' even if it wasn't a necessary thing. Her way was made, finding place all too soon by a Drachman man who looked particularly uninterested. It didn't matter. Walking over and whimpering a few sweet nothings in his ear, he was but putty in her hands. The goal was clear and the man seemed most obedient. Grinning and laughing, he charged off and soon the group would bundle to make their plans. Valeria.. simply waited.

She made sure to keep herself shielded from the view of others slipped slowly, back into the warehouse. It seemed much bigger when she returned, sliding behind the mass of large metal boxes everywhere. She climbed a bit, hand touching upon an item in her pocket. Now where was she? This target that he'd wanted to mold. A maze laid out before the entrances and soon encasing Even everyone inside in a mass of alchemic-made walls of different materials and density. Distractions were always good. our separate alchemists sat at both 'entrances/exits'. One in site and one in the shadows. A few soldiers sprinkled in and out of the seen. Oh this was going to be fun.

As soon as they'd come in, would be a mind fuck. Of course, she had no idea how many even came or who would be in the building, but if the target didn't show well.... then.... She'd have to be sought.. wouldn't she?

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Reila Tsukino on Tue Oct 30, 2012 1:20 am

Raw instinct kept her alive--like a child in the past, she slunk along the walls, eyes wild with detection. Any movement and she was ready, her alchemy blistering her fingertips with cold, the floor under her turning to steady ice. She slid like cattle over grass, lumbering, chewing breath and spitting it out. Voices in Drachman barely translated, her heart in her throat, her mind mulling already over any possible exit back up to the surface. This was the basement--she knew. No windows. Anywhere. Dark, cold, effortlessly winding. She was lost before she found herself moving, stumbling over herself with vicious grunts. The entirely metal spear helped her along--a walking stick in a jungle of linoleum. She found living people occasionally, but they were never living for long. A whirlwind followed behind her, jagged and sweltering with shards of frozen air. Her gaze was laced with dull vibrancy, fervent and resilient to the bitter end. A swish of gold, she barely looked upon the piling bodies in her wake; there was only escape.

Faint voices were forming in the distance, yelling about in lucid sentences. She puzzled them together into understanding, finally realizing why there were less fleshy walls to cut through. An attack. A Briggs attack. For her? No, that was by far a terrible decision. Dai? She looked down, pausing in her step to contemplate the plausibility in what she heard. No, it was entirely possible. As much as she wished to deny it. It would be Dai and as many else he could gather who would easily sacrifice themselves in her wake. But why? Why hadn't someone realized... that walking into Drachma was walking into a graveyard?

Please no. She wanted to shout--to scream--to cry, but she knew she would do none of that. In the past, she had already shed too much of her childhood to retain anymore reckless emotion. Right now, she was empty--she was empty until she was home. If she'd ever see home again... Then she could be herself again. Right now, who was this? Was it her, or a projection of pure survival? She couldn't tell. She didn't know. Reila Tsukino had lost herself down there--down there in the deep, snowy pit she volunteered herself into. Trailing rough, feminine hands along the tombstones of her brethren, dying under her name, she wanted no more. NO MORE. She'd said it so many times, thrown herself into battle more times, yet the result was always the same. Dead upon dead, skeletons rupturing bone, the chattering of teeth under gunfire, another name carved into stone, fading and fading with the ages. Still, repeated again. She clung to it like a pacifier: he only outlet away from what should have been. Living like a normal teenager, raised by an immortal monster, now--now, what could she say she had become?

The voice of reason--the last hope ringing like a broken bell in the silence, covering in veils of smoke and moans for a savior. She was no savior. She was a person--a girl fighting for what she believed--fighting to stay together with the one person she truly believed loved her. Daigoro Ito, just where are you? Together they could do it as they had always done it. Without Mura, without Xan, they were still Briggs. This was Briggs. They were in Drachma, having lost already. Maybe it was time to really show their worth.

[Dai, find Reila now?]

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Iris on Sat Nov 03, 2012 12:35 pm

Achingly slow, she took her steps. Silence and stealth they were simply words applied to the young miss as her feet moved about in the quietest of ways. Even the snow accepted no noise, while Iris pushed her way to the front. Or rather, it was to the sides. Her pink eyes rolled to check on Dai, before they slid through the door. It was too quiet, beneath the barrage of mortars. Something wasn't right, there was just something unsettling in her very stomach. A knot that gnawed at her very ribs. Maybe that was just her achingly cold muscles, but the hairs on her neck were standing too. This was too easy, what did that spell.

"Colonel Ito wait it's a-" She didn't get to say the next word. A wall was pushed up and knocked Iris back a few pegs. The labyrinth had trapped Dai in the front and Iris behind it. Well shit. Now it was just her with no one to help her. She was terrified. For the first time in a long time, Iris felt fear slinking up her back. This wasn't good. She found herself locked in a small portion of the warehouse, with no escape. Her hands pressed tight to the papers she held. This would not end well. Take a deep breath and look for an escape. There was nothing. There was nowhere to go. Iris had been trapped like a mouse. Tears burnt at her eyes. Stinging fluid trickling a moment. No. She couldn't cry. This wasn't the place to. Her hand flexed and through activating the circles on her nails, she dragged a slow line down the center of the paper. Now wasn't the time to break, the battle had just began.

.....................................................................................................................................

"There's more to this than just black and white. The world can't be divided into that. There's reds and blues and greens and even more colors. How can you judge someone by one of two shades? It just doesn't seem fair to remain blind to rainbow, just because there's a puddle in your path."

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Emmelin on Sat Nov 03, 2012 1:55 pm

"Colonel Ito wait it's a-" Too slow.. Ha, it gave her chills how good she was at her job. The silent form of a cruel smirk played at her lips. She loved when things went her way. This was one of those times. She had to contain the warm and fuzzy feeling she got. Maybe she was sick and twisted and maybe some of her decision was still out of anger she felt towards Ayden. It didn't matter, but the little pink haired baby was about to get something long overdue. It wasn't personal... at least not completely. Hell Valeria knew nothing about the girl, but something pissed her off. Everyone had those people. The ones that just looking at made her want to rip at her hair and bite at the exposed flesh in attempts to tear out her throat. Well.. that wasn't a very lady-like thought though. Not like anyone could really hear said thoughts anyways.

She stalked, as a panther did its prey. Silently, in the shadows, she watched with a grin. The prey didn't know it was already caught, now was a time to play with her food. She disliked the thought of this pink-haired bimbo being food. Scrawny and pale, less than appetizing. Her hands clapped slowly, the sound resounding through the air. "Congratulations," she started as her body slid from one shadow, down to the next. "A bit slow, but at least you seem to HAVE a brain under that pink mop of yours." Torturing her toys was all a game she was adjusted to. Release the rage and her inner hungering beast. Today, Valeria didn't lack sleep, she lacked control.

As she finished mocking her new acquaintance, she would make her way. A small dance upon light feet that brought her too soon within strike length away. Valeria brandished her scythe high and then she struck. "Think fast!" It was only then that Val rose her scythe and slashed rather viciously at Iris' legs, pulling it towards herself and aiming to knock the girl off her feet. It felt good. It caught her off guard, the pleasure she felt from inflicting pain. Her heart skipped a beat and a fervor of warmth rushed from her head to her toes.

Her next move led her to duck forward. Clearly this lass was not nearly as experienced as she. The sloppy defense and the way she seemed almost overwhelmed as well, it just gave away the weaknesses. As her opponent would turn, a hand reached and with much maneuvering, Valeria had captured Iris in her arms. "Hold on sweetie, this is going to hurt a little." Her voice came as a devilish laugh while she simultaneously pulled the shoulder with one hand and pushed with the 'other'(her stump up to her elbow) until there was a satisfactory 'POP' sound. It was so sweet, like the bell for dinner. And the scream she knew would come.. Aaaa like sweet honey to her ears. She couldn't help but lick her lips. This.. was just the start of it all....

After ripping the woman's arm out of her socket, Valeria would slam her into the ground and smirk. "Oh look at that pitiful look on your face." Her voice laughed dryly. "Let's see how much your pathetic body can take, shall we?" Her fingers trickled up the clothes and ripped free some of the fabric. The scythe once again was grabbed and pulled to the now exposed flesh. The tip would scrape at the nape of her neck, before Valeria cut into her ribcage with a swift sweep. "Oops~! I missed your heart. Oh well." The voice was a foul chuckle on the air and the violet orbs stared hard into those that were pink.

The torture was continued for a good ten minutes. Stripes carved into Iris' flesh that blended only more into pain. it wasn't long before it bored her. Valeria stood and sighed. It wouldn't be much longer before her toy broke and the thrill of it all died down. She wasn't allowed to kill the girl. Wiping the blood off of her hands onto a handkerchief, she would place her scythe against a wall and fumble in her jacket. The gun was brandished. "As much fun as this all was. The game has come to an end."

Absentmindedly, Val cleaned the barrel of the remover. nothing showed on her face, as if this was all business suddenly. Her eyes were brought back to Iris and she pointed, rolling the barrel with a thrill. "Ready?" There wasn't patience and Val found that her gun HAD been pointing at the pink-haired girl's head. At last second she moved the aim down and pulled the trigger. BANG! It lodged itself into the lung of the woman. Excellent. "I'll be kind enough to let you think about your life, as if flashes away." The gun was tossed away from Iris, hitting a wall roughly with a 'clank'. Her hand fiddled in her pocket again. This time, she pulled out a small red rock that seemed to almost emanate power. A smirk again playing at Val's lips as she there the rock next to the bleeding woman.

"This is your choice." Her purple eyes were soulless orbs that had no problem with what she had just done. "You have about three minutes before you will no longer be conscious. After that well.. who knows what awaits you." Her shoulders shrugged and Valeria gave a wild gleam. "It's up to you now. Lay here and die or don't." With that said, Valeria dusted her hands again and grinned at one of the hidden alchemists. She was let out. Her petite body vanishing. Her job was done. She didn't FORCE the pink bimbo to take the stone, but everyone had their fears. It was only a matter of psychology. For now, she needed to make a swift get-away.

[exit. OC: I know I bunnied Iris, but wanted to try and get this done with limited interaction with myself]

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Sat Nov 10, 2012 8:50 pm

"She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes..." The undercurrent of a faint humming pleasantly lined the silence up for Ayden's shrill yet somehow tolerable voice. Click. Bleeeep. "She'll be coming round the mountain when she coooomes!" The second line had appropriate finger movements simply for extra dramatic effect. The assassin loved his conductor-esque finger movements.

"She'll be dragging rotten corpses..." Click. Bleeeeep. Looking to his side, still whistling and humming as he went, he regarded the numerous slumped corpses and the welling pools of blood around the six RIOTE agents that had had inhabited this room before he'd entered. He'd set Astaroth down on the counter, smoke still trailing from the gun's muzzle. "...with a pack of roasted orphans... she'll be coming round the mountain when she coooomes!" With that, he slammed a last gloved finger down onto the final button, and a slightly more solid click resounded that time.

With a little jig to his imaginary - or deceased - audience, Ayden set the little device he'd been messing with down onto the chest of one of the deceased men, slumped back into a swivel-chair - he'd never even had a chance to resist, the cold Drachman wind whistling through a hole in his head - and wreathing his arms around it. Dusting off his hands with a fantastic grin and ejecting an empty clip from the pistol he picked up from the counter, he stared with a look of malicious pride towards the device the dead man seemed to be so eagerly cradling. The green plastic of a circuitboard's base, the intricate network of gold lines interconnecting every piece of it, the numerous bunch of wires, a number-pad stolen from an ancient Dell keyboard, and, finally, a single analogue screen upon which vivid red text read out: "ARMED."

Oh, and the large block of C4 strapped to the back of it, too. "Well, now, gentlemen~!" Ayden stared and made a mock salute to each of the fallen, crumpled individuals who hadn't even seen him coming. He drew a fresh clip from within the abyss of his jacket, and slid it straight into the M1911, easing back the hammer and sighing. "A shame I have to leave so early, and miss all the festivities... enjoy it for me, boys!" With a mock salute and an evil cackle, he left the room and shut the door behind him, chuckling explosively as he stepped. "Gyahahahah!" Another day's work well done.

His movements from the Fort to this outpost had been totally untraceable. And there would be no evidence of his presence after the bomb went off and wiped everything out - the C4 charge was only present as a trigger for a chain reaction of explosions. The room where he'd placed the armed explosive was a thin tiled floor away from a room full of filled oil drums - the fuel bay for this particular outpost. As soon as he pressed the little red button... kaboom.

After his fight with his... detestable ex-student, he'd slipped away and come here to prepare. He hadn't expected the return of the Drachman strike team quite as soon, but nevertheless, it simply meant he had to be a tad more stealthy. That made things challenging - fun! But it meant more casualties, and whilst he couldn't take credit for it due to those pesky rules of engagement, he had a target here that needed wiping out. Briggs were fine without him.

Whistling as he walked back through the maze, with a noticeable spring in his step, Ayden made a mental conclusion that today had been a good day. Terrible for Amestris, but excellent for him. A return - plus collateral - on a contract, and he'd taken a trophy - the severed hand of one Valeria Diablos, that moronic wannabe student of his! It mattered little to the silver-haired warrior, just so long as she left him be. The maze hadn't even perplexed him - it was curious, but it was the way he'd come. He'd just presumed it was used for some extensive RIOTE visual-spatial training exercise.

It wasn't until he happened upon the basement door - having come in through a cramped escape tunnel in the first place, in spite of unpleasant memories of his pursuit of the rat, Berk - that he heard something peculiar. Something familiar. Faded grunts. Analysis kicked in; that whistling, that faint crystallising and slashing of air. The clang of a metal spear as it brushed against walls, and the rending of flesh as all of this came upon a single, unwitting guard at once, and shredded him.

That was why the corridors above were so abandoned, so... empty. Because they were preoccupied. Ayden's heart sunk with a steady thud. They'd returned here with a charge. They'd kidnapped her. Lieutenant General Tsukino. His superior. This was... going to be a difficult one.

Whilst she'd inadvertently assisted him in her being kidnapped, it did mean that he couldn't leave her here. An "accident" in Drachma which resulted in the deaths of numerous Drachman soldiers was for Drachma to deal with. If the body of an Amestrian general was recovered within the ashes... it would only further add fuel to the fire. Ayden's pleasantly content expression dropped to a pale face and a snarling, upturned lip in frustration. "Oh, fuck." He spat, less-than-eloquently for a man who was usually a wordsmith.

Then that Daigoro was more than likely preparing a team or some such to come after him. He loved her, after all. Just like he and Jeu-Hee; a tad different, but an analogue all the same. That meant... strike team. That meant further Amestrian casualties. They'd look into the accident. They would get professionals in. Distinguish the burns. If this caught too much attention, he could be out of jobs - bad publicity was bad for an assassin as well as a Major General of the Amestrian military. "Oh, fuck me sideways." With a growl, he kicked open the basement door and stepped in, walking towards that mass of swishing pink hair and that bruised, calloused, exhausted body, animalistic and primal, acting only on instinct.

It was dark down here, but the two of them had lived in the night all their life. "Miss Tsukino..." Ayden murmured. "Fancy catching you here..." He looked her figure up and down, smirking to himself. A snide little remark would always add a light touch to the situation. "Looking the very image of health today, Miss." A long, toothy grin stretched upon his face for a moment before it vanished. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we should probably get out of here this outpost's turned into nothing but a scorchmark of a ruin and a great big mass of melting snow."

With that gentlemanly, wicked smile, he extended a leather-clad hand, and cocked his head towards the door he'd just entered through, and the maze, barely a few feet from the pair of them. "What say we go cut through a few more of these bastards before we're done?" A high-pitched childish giggle. What little light there was shined from his silvery locks like a fluid, moving, mirror, constructed only of separate strands. More murder was always good!

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Reila Tsukino on Mon Nov 26, 2012 1:52 am

"Miss Tsukino..." A voice. But how long would it stay Tsukino? How much longer until she rid herself of her father's beguiled name? Mrs. Ito. Say it again. Her heart beat steadily, her hands drudged in the grime of death and days of dark. They stood facing each other. His hand extended, she reached for it with a soft smile. Finally. Finally someone she recognized in this mess. They came for me. "What say we go cut through a few more of these bastards before we're done?"

"Certainly, this is a survival of the fit--"

BANG.

Something pierced her. Something pierced her entire being. Writhing suddenly with agony, everything went cold. Her breath stopped in her lungs, her fingers trailing away from Ayden's. She was on the ground, everything further away. Ayden was gone. A faint scream echoed, a gun dropping. More enemies flooded around him like a wave swallowing him whole. She couldn't move. Ice wouldn't work; she couldn't tap into alchemy. Her sight was fading. Red. Red was suddenly about her. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find her, would you?"
"I'll take truth."
"If I wasn't with you, I don't know where I'd be..."
"Good for a picnic, huh? Bring up a lunch - just the two of us."
"You... should never speak like that. Not about me. Not about my mother. And definitely not the woman that I've fallen in love with..."
"Heh... I'm not going to sleep any time soon, mind if I joined you?"
"I'm right here."
"That said, we're a team. We need to be able to count on each other when it matters, and back each other up when they're injured. Death isn't something that we'd like any member of Briggs to experience."
"Oh, fine. Reila, I want to go on a romantic picnic with you out in the mountains. Will you come with me?"
"Call me Goro."
"And don't think because you're half naked, I'm going to be distracted..."
"Oh, I love a girl...Who stays fiesty, even with the injuries you've got..."
"You know... After everything... We're still a team. We're two of the original Briggs Brigade members... And after everything, after all the deaths, all the war, all the bloodshed is over, we may not be a team anymore. But one thing will never change. Reila, you know I will always love you."
"We're soldiers. Once this war's over, we won't be soldiers anymore, will we? Then what will we be? I mean, what will the meaning of our existence? Will we be normal people, or what? I'm trying to think of the future, and I haven't got anything yet."
"Hey, happens to some. Better a polar bear than fangirls, at the very least."
"And if you take it from my point of view... the world has it's way of unifying itself. As long as there is war, there is a way for peace to shine through, and for humans to take what they have been given, and overcome adversity. Trust me."
"I can't lose you completely... Reila, I refuse to let you go."
"You are my everything, Reila Tsukino. My everything... and more."
"I won't let you go..."
"It shall be alright. There will be some interesting events after this, I suppose..."
"W-well, whaddayaknow, there she is now. I wondered why I heard a muffled noise below the desk."
"BITCHES, MY NAME IS DAIGORO ITO, AND I REQUIRE SUSTE--HAH!"
"We're fine. I know exactly where we are. We're... in the middle of the desert!"
"But, yeah. I'm Daigoro. I work under Reila, and we're currently dating.... and yeah."
"You haven't seen Reila and I eat when we're hungry."
"I... I love you."
"I. Am in love. With Reila Tsukino. I. Will always be. In love. With Reila Tsukino. Do. Not. Fuck. With. My. Girlfriend."
"Reila."
"REILA!!"
"Calm down, Reila..."
"Good luck, stay alive. I love you."
"If you say so, however think on what would happen if Briggs fell. This building is a symbol of Drachma's pride... they may continue to fight, but it would never be the same for them."
"She's everything to me..."
"Your happiness defines me. When I see you smile, everything seems to be better. When I see you sad, it makes me sick to the core."
"I just... do you remember? We could spend hours just talking. We'd get to 6am, and then finally look at the time. I want to do that again. I want to talk to you like we'd always done..."
"I don't want to lose you, Reila."
"I can't see a future without you."
"You are my world, my universe."
"Reila Tsukino. I love you. I will not falter, and I will show you that I do. Because not only am I the man who loves you, I am a soldier of Briggs, of Amestria. If I can not be strong, then I can not survive."
"Hello?"
"Don't misunderstand. I didn't want to kill him, but... he wanted to kill me. I was just surviving... that's what it is all about, up here in Briggs. 'Survival of the Fittest'."
No. No. NO. She screamed. Inside, she screamed, denying it all--denying that this was it--denying that they had failed. They were no longer the fittest--they were no longer Briggs; they were now just human.

"REILA--Reila, please open your eyes. I can't--this--I can't..." Pain.

"Dai..." Faintly, she saw him--just faintly. A blur of a face streaked with tears. Something was touching her, lifting her up into an embrace she was hardly a part of. Line of fire. Fray. Bullets dancing around them, hitting him as he bent over her. Ayden's voice somewhere lost in the pattering of pulling triggers. He...he was. Blood. Pouring out all over the floor. "W-why D-Dai...?" Her hand shook, her muscles groaned, disobeying the easiest of commands. He caught it before it fell limp. In his lap. Holding his hand. No. Tears pooled out of her eyes, lips quivering.

"I told you...I wouldn't leave you." Tightly wound, blood leaked down their fingertips, down his chin, out of her side. So slippery yet so solid was this resolve. All those years. He said he'd never abandon her--he'd always loved her. Always. But...now...what was this? What was this?! It--it wasn't fair!! It...it was all just fading away. It felt like nothing--it felt so soft--so tentative, falling away like dropping flower petals. He was quaking; his breathing was labored; he was listing sideways over her. He was falling. He was going. He was leaving. Dai. Dai. DAI! WAIT. She sobbed, tears fell, her body wracked. Watching him die... Why was he here...dying with her? It would be better...better if no one came! Alone, if she was alone it would have been okay. It would have been okay if only...Dai--if only Dai had lived on for her. But, no, he'd never leave her. He wouldn't. Dai...he wouldn't ever. No matter what. Desperately.

"I...I wanted to grow old. I wanted to grow old with you, Dai." Her voice broke, growing fainter the lower his eyelids dropped. Feeling, feeling the touch through the pain--through the slowing of their heart beats. "I-I don't want to die...It's...it's not time; I'm not ready. There's still so much...so much...I...we didn't get married..." Wrinkled skin, thick rings. Walking down the aisle. Bouquet. Honey moon. Children--raising kids. Teaching them peace. Peace. No more war. RIOTE. Fort Briggs. The cafeteria where friends gather. Baking cookies. Mura. Xan. Smiling. She'd miss smiling. The snow--endless expanse of white. Sinking into it. Snow angels. The stone. The cave. Bats. Blood. Victory. Hope. The rose. Defeating memory. Truth or dare. Lord of the Rings. Kissing. Sparring. Hair cuts. Talking. Sleepless nights. Sand sledding. Acceptance. Dependence. Trust. Devotion.

"No, you're wrong...we've--all this time, we've been married. Don't...you...know? I...love..." Silence. Blood. Oozing. Warmth going. Cold. So cold. Everything was cold. Colder than Drachma. Colder than Briggs. Colder than alchemy. Heavy weight. Limp. Gone. Dai...Dai was gone. She fell apart. Their hands together lay at their sides barely touching. He wasn't breathing. His eyes were staring into her--latching into her core, looking further into the depths of eternity. Spiraling in a realm of darkness, there was nothing. Nothing forming into the clarity of a babbling river slamming against jagged rocks. A boat leaning, teetering. Hands together breaching the surface of cold itself, plunging deep to grasp small facets of gold...closed now forever...carefully enveloped in

"you."

[EXIT TOPIC]

RIP Dai & Reila

.....................................................................................................................................

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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Iris on Mon Nov 26, 2012 10:18 am

Pain hit her body and soon a woman had been in her way. This woman- Who was she? Iris barely had time to ask, her body in a battle, quickly lost. Before she knew it, the woman had grabbed her from behind and pulled her shoulder right from its socket. Then her body was thrown to the ground as the woman cackled like a sick pig and began to use her body as a test tube. Pain... so much pain was all over her, she could barely move and then-

BANG!

Iris couldn't breathe. At least, she couldn't too well. Pain enveloped her body with a light she'd never seen before. Body crippling pain shot through her with wave after wave of loud and desperate breaths. A lung had collapsed.. wonderful. She was dying.. laying there dying while that woman left. Iris couldn't die... Iris didn't want to die. She was terrified- Beyond terrified, but words couldn't reach her lips. She could barely breathe, how could she be expected to speak?

Iris cough, bleeding profusely onto her jacket. Great, she had inner body damage other than the lung? Or was that BECAUSE of the lung? She couldn't tell, couldn't feel anything but the mind-numbing pain, but then it happened. Adrenaline kicked in. It would only work for a short while, given the extensive wounds, but she had enough to shakily grab the stone near her.

Was she really going to do this? It seemed her body acted before she could think further on it. The stone was to her lips, pleading for entrance. "You have about three minutes before you will no longer be conscious. After that well.. who knows what awaits you." She didn't want to die.

Warmth rolled down her cheeks as the smooth stone rolled on her lips. She hesitated and felt her body roll into a slow black out. Who knew how long she'd be unconscious. A bitter taste hit her lips and she felt herself second guess. Was this really okay? Her subordinates might kill her if they found out. IF they found out... The world of what-ifs floated around before she swallowed her bravery and took the pill of a coward. It passed through roughly, rolling on her tongue, uncomfortably, while the stone nearly got stuck in her throat. It was sour, bitter, and tasted like failure. It also tasted like life. It tasted like blood.

Inner turmoil was almost instant. Her mind was accompanied by the feeling of drowsiness. Sleep... a black out rolled through her head, making her feel like the last time she'd almost died. Sickness matched sleep perfectly. "This sick need rest, don't they?" A yawn was heard and Iris could feel her body shift. Who was that voice? That person she didn't know who invaded her unconscious dreamland? There was no real manifestation but instead a voice that drifted like a mother's lullaby. Who was that?

"You know who I am."

"No, really I don't."


There seemed to grow a grin somewhere in the back of her mind, a wide but lazy grin. "All writers know me well. I just want to borrow your body. It seems so nice and warm.. I could sleep." That voice cooed in her mind, causing Iris to shiver slowly. "I don't exactly like anyone using my body." She murmured in response, earning a singular chuckle.

"But you like to sleep? You're tired, why don't you just rest for a while?" Who ARE you? "You know exactly who I am. I am sound sleep, contentedness." ..Death?

There was another toothy grin. "That's only if you believe I may lead to it?" There was a large yawn and shifting to be heard. "Hmm.. I really don't feel like discussing this anymore. Perhaps we can talk more... after a little nap."

"Wait-" Her own voice stammered in the nothingness world of her mind. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to save me?

"Why would I do that? Why should I save someone who can't save their-self?" Softly, the words drifted, parting, separating and turning into nothing more. "Like I said, we can talk more la-"

"I'm dying here! You can't just sleep."

"Iris, we can both sleep. All this is, is just a nap. We'll be okay... we'll get back up..." It was as if she felt someone grab a hold on her and hug her tight. The embrace that burnt every part of her body. Every injury was burning. Her shoulder made a loud popping sound and more pain followed. Oh the pain that went through, but she didn't have the energy to express it. "Come on Iris, rest with me."

"I can't rest- not yet. I need to get- Get my friends.."

"Who cares about friends.. all they ever want is for you to help them... Go to sleep Iris... Hibernate a while and wake up anew."

"I can't..." She repeated as she felt her world spin. Waking up took effort. It felt as if her whole world was being shaken in a snow-globe. White colors flooded her mind as the whole world flipped and she could feel her eyes open.

"Tch, what a pain. I'm not going to bother arguing with you anymore.. there's plenty of rest to be had." With that, the voice seemed to vanish, though not completely. Her eyes saw floor. Blood stained floor with her own stuck to it. This was- her blood? Where was she? As she stirred, she felt a wave of dizziness, pain flooding her as the adrenaline wore off, but slowly dissipating as breath assaulted her lungs. She could breathe: She was alive. By some miracle, she was alive- but... at what cost? Where was she at?

Bodies were around her, blood was everywhere and as she stood up, she couldn't be sure what to do. Her body was instinctive, getting up and moving slowly to the door. She couldn't feel, nothing was right, everything was out of place. Why didn't she care? She wanted to go home. Go home and cry like nothing else was worth it. There was no one in the warehouse, that she could see. Where had Dai gone? The maze had vanished and now, Iris stood alone among corpses. They were dead. She spared herself the details of going where Reila was. She couldn't bear seeing it, as she knew already they were dead. All of them....

Her eyes cast upon the area outside to see more bodies. Everyone... She was alone. Fear, sadness and bitterness all flooded her body as she staggered out of the building. Fort Briggs.. had lost. She had lost and now... she was what seemed like the sole survivor of a suicide mission. Why-Why did she have to eat the stone? For a moment, Iris clawed at her own throat, as if that would help her take it back out. Regret flooding her. It was all in vain, she was left in tears with broken memories. All alone, no one was left.

"You're related to that woman, right?" She could hear the voices from the past in her head. Constant denial and her laughing it off. It had been coincidence. COINCIDENCE, so why did she now-? Why couldn't she deny it now? Her heart lurched and tears began to trickle down her face, flashes of a three year old's memory. She'd never really know now, because Iris would not look back fondly. The pain was too much. Almost instantly she was sick to her stomach, limping away as her body continued to heal. She couldn't- She just couldn't deal with it. She found herself a good distance away and her body fell to its knees. So cold... so sleepy. She had to keep going, but she didn't want to. The day was sour.. she was weak. Too weak to help anyone, too weak to fight the pain. Now, she was choking on tears in the vast white plains of Drachma. From her neck, she would shakily undo the locket... fear dreading in her every step. A face stared back and for some reason, Iris knew... it was a face she'd never see again.

"Survival of the fittest."

More like survival of the cowards... She wiped her cheek, swallowing more tears, before getting back up. She'd have to go home and stay there a while. Her home.. she'd lost it. Her body shifted and swayed in the slight of winds. She lost everything. The winter cold eventually numbed her whole body enough she couldn't feel ANY of the pain, except for the knife in her chest, but that.. all the sweets in the world would couldn't fill, if she could even eat them. "The cake is a lie..." Everything was a lie...

[EXIT]

.....................................................................................................................................

"There's more to this than just black and white. The world can't be divided into that. There's reds and blues and greens and even more colors. How can you judge someone by one of two shades? It just doesn't seem fair to remain blind to rainbow, just because there's a puddle in your path."

→ Speaks Aerugese, Amestrian (Magenta), Acented Cretan (darkcyan), Knows small bits of Xingese (Jade)
Iris' theme song
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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Mon Nov 26, 2012 10:24 am

Outside the large building, the strike continued in a valiant front; not intending to shatter through Drachman forces, only to distract and weaken. So far it was going well. The gargantuan Lokhyn was tearing around the front lines, barking orders as he slew Drachman after Drachman, en masse. It was going well. Reila would be theirs. It would be fine. But still...

His dream. It was coming back to him, as a little lingering feeling, ominous. He recalled it... Everyone dead around him, Reila, his father, Dai, Mr. Peach... All of them, though Reila's death in the dream hit him the hardest, the most. It had all seemed so real, too. But... That couldn't have happened. Not for real, anyways. He swung one of the massive hammers in his hands, another one bit the dust; mortars flew around him, assault rifles chugged nearby. Above it all, however, his ancient ears picked up a sound, and a similar sound soon after, from far away. Gunshots. Two of them. Froma pistol. It could have been anything really; could have been Reila breaking free, taking out guards, for all he knew. But he knew, somewhere in his heart of hearts... It wasn't that.

Admittedly, he'd been distracted. For at least a little bit. Long enough to not feel the hot stab in his chest. A bullet pierced his lung, and he turned to see the attacker, one of many Drachman soldiers. This followed with another bullet, in the hand, tearing off his ring and middle finger. He dropped the hammer of Tyr, his Heathen Hammer, and swung the hammer of his father, beheading the man. He was in great pain, but he could manage. He'd be fine. It'd all be fine... Everything was bright. Too bright. He turned, groggily, as if in slow motion. He saw spots. A much bigger boom sounded faintly, and he couldn't feel it, but the shotgun had been fired at close range, behind him. Bullets pierced his heart, his butchered lungs, and his stomach. He grabbed the man by the throat, but he wasn't there, and as he went to choke him, his hand was filled with air. What... What was happening...?

"Son..."

"F-father...? But... Y-you died...?"

"I know. Come, my son. Join me where the warriors are. There will be a mighty baquet in your honor; you were a fine warrior, Einherjar. You've made me proud."

"Hmm... Mmm... Yes. To Valhalla?"

"Yes, son. Valhalla awaits us."

He didn't know when he had fallen down... He couldn't percieve much around him. He heard voices, but his father was there, he was talking. Field medics were attempting to pull him to safety; just barely aware, he shook his head. He wouldn't shame his father by quitting death. It had begun to take him, and it would finish; no true warrior was a cheater of any, specifically the cold embrace of the goddess Hel.

They gave up on trying to help him, as he'd refused, and it'd be pointless anyways; it just proved a danger to the medics, who would have had to move him from the front lines, and he seemed prepared for death anyways. And as his eyes faded to a dull glow, he went out singing softly, barely under a whisper; "Place my body... On a ship... Burn it in the sea... Let my spir-... spirit rise... Valkyries carry me! Take me... To Valhalla! Where my... My brothers wait... For me... Fire burning to the sky... My spirit... Will never... never..." And nobody heard it when he stopped singing, as blood dripped from his mouth, staining the snow. He closed his eyes. Laying back, he smiled.

And he walked through the gates of Valhalla, Sigfried to his right, Reila to his left... The perfect afterlife; one spent with loved ones.

(~(RIP EINHERJAR EGIL. To note, I doubt purdy seriously Reila's actually in Valhalla. ._. But it's his afterlife, he get wha' he want. Aaaaaaand if possibru, could Einy's points be fired at Nyx's account, before his account explodes?)~)


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Re: Mini Mission: Marred Misanthropy

Post by Guest on Mon Nov 26, 2012 4:02 pm

((I know I posted up a hiatus, but for some reason, this just came naturally in spite of everything else. Call it a one-off.))

*****

"Certainly, this is a survival of the fit--"

The shot pierced the air before she could finish her sentence and the entire world froze for a moment. It had come from some dark corner of the basement in a single flash of a rifle muzzle and cut through her in such a moment. She fell in slow motion, an abrupt tear in everything natural about her, red running into pink as her blood wept onto her hair. Her cries became disjointed, an echo in the room of muffled grunts and shouts.

And then she met the ground with a thud. Her body writhed as the last images and memories flickered before her eyes, the bullet drilling further into her flesh before it finally stopped. The room filled with the blaze of a crossfire, Ayden and the body of his boss, whose life was slowly fading from that fragile, bleeding form, at the centre of it.

Immediately as he heard the first round fall from the barrel of another gun, instinct struck and Ayden slammed his frame against the floor, the vibrations echoing in that curved, ceramic plate over his chest. It was dark; only intermittent flashes from jury-rigged bolt-action rifles and quivering sub-machine guns lit up the room in a strobe-like effect as he rolled along the floor onto his back, spluttering and hacking as the copper flew over him and a great cloud of grey-white dust hissed up into existence above his very eyes.

He blinked a few more times and looked to Reila through the dark, eyes honed as a hawk's, as the last glimmer of life faded from those golden eyes. Those golden eyes that had given so much over such little time. For her tenacity, her dedication, her understanding, and her strength of will and character, he would remember her. She was no coward. A born leader. But even the mighty fall. "Requiem in pace." He murmured as the gunfire fell silent to the sounds of hoarse, thick Drachman hissing, and the clicking of rifles and machine guns being readied. Her deathwish was his first, and one that meant more than any other. Latin.

All around him battles raged. For life, for death, for dedication, for king, for country, for love, for hate, for war, for peace... again and again the heavy thuds of bodies upon the floor all around and the clicks of swift reloads only prolonged and extended that vicious cycle. Battles begun as quickly as they would soon end. Above and to both flanks, Amestrian soldiers fell on the forefront, Briggs' elite being cut down to a measly wounded handful.

Daigoro and Reila were together in life, and together in death. But the third body aside them, a single tear shed down that pale facade, rolled over and drew his twin pistols from ankles pressed against the floor, the ceramic plate creaking as a curtain of true silence and murky darkness descended upon them all. The Latin had been required for each of them as they passed on. And now for the bastards responsible as a growl rose from his throat. "Reqiuem in pix."

Rest in pitch. Rest in tar. For the rest of their miserable, short lives, they would see to only agony.

He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and that array on his hindside glow and thrum with energy. He felt the weight of the detonator in his pocket. He felt the gravity of every breath, every inhalation, every exhalation, as he aimed those dual pistols dead-on. The same could not be said for his bright-haired comrades, but the silver-haired warrior was not dying yet. He had a fiancé. And he'd promised her that he wasn't going to die.

That was a promise forged from and of love, and one he intended to keep.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. The bullets flew before they had even finished reloading their rifles, from the middle of the room. The first had been an accidental shot which lit up the basement for a millisecond as he marked his targets. Then, in total darkness, he aimed Astaroth and Asmodeus, and three more rapid trigger pulls followed. Three more tearings of flesh. Three more beautiful spray patterns of blood and brain. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. Four more slumped dead as the last slowly rose their sub-machine guns to Ayden's position; but by the time those nine-millimetre hollow-point rounds dug into the ground beneath where he had laid, he was gone, rolling away, behind cover, leaning out only to pull the triggers a few more times. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Only one round left, one chambered. As brave and tenacious as Ayden was, as soon as the sound of pounding feet filled the room, with one more glimpse towards his fallen fellows, he holstered Astaroth, carrying only Asmodeus, crying its tear of blood as he frantically looked for an exit. He was ambitious. Not foolish.

The blood ran through the furrows of the ground in a pool by his feet, and as his boot splashed in the liquid, he looked down, and a sly grin made a curve onto his face. His exit plan had presented itself. Reila Tsukino and Daigoro Ito. Of use in life? Undoubtedly. Of use in death? Just as much so. Their death would mean his life, in a rather contorted way, but albeit morally sound, for once. Spinning on his heel and making a mock salute to the Lieutenant General's abhorrence of rank and file, he dipped down as the rifle rounds clattered off of the pillar of cover he'd selected, scooped up a handful of Reila and Dai's intermingled crimson lifeblood, and turned, in one fluid arc, spattering the bowl's worth against the wall in a great red streak.

With that, he removed his left glove with his right hand and grinned. "It's a shame you two are gone, General and Colonel," He flexed his pale, lithe fingers. The boots were getting closer, a veritable stampede of metal and rubber as the rounds clanged off the walls and made dents and divets into the stone in front of his head. "But..." His grin contorted into a wicked, audacious sneer. "...at least you're going out with a bang."

He slammed his palm against the wall, and in a moment, the crackle of blue electrical discharge filled the room. Ayden ducked, and threw his hands over his ears; and as the first group of RIOTE troops turned the corner, the fizzling of the hydrogen atoms finally erupted in a great crimson plumage, an outward explosion, chunks of rubble flying straight over the assassin's head and shattering bone, crushing flesh, and spurting blood as daylight lanced in from the blackened, charred crater on the other side, the soil collapsed into a heap. The hydrogen explosion had burst straight through the foundation, and that last sliver of illumination was his way out.

Grunting, and covered in blood, with a single gun at his hand, Ayden heard one last bark in accented Amestrian behind him. "Stop, now, Amestrian, or I shoot!" With one hand on the ledge formed of compressed soil, he spun, he drew back the hammer on Asmodeus as he concealed it behind his stomach, and grinned.

"You shouldn't have given me warning." CRACK.

With that, Ayden vaulted over the ledge, holstered the pistol, and dove into the treeline as muzzle flashed and gunfire filled the world behind him. Briggs was lost - but that wasn't to say he couldn't make a swift trip home to his office and get all his old possessions, reclaim them. He hadn't done any mountain-climbing in a while - but even then, his apartment in North City, plus his R8, were all close-enough by. Fumbling through his pocket for the detonator, he smirked and rose the glinting golden metal to the pale sunlight as if it were some glass of champagne, toasting the two fallen individuals as he swatted the fading tear from his eye, the warehouse now only a speck on the distance.

"To Reila, to Daigoro, to camaraderie..." He smirked. This was how they'd want to go out. Kicking. "...and to the downfall of Drachma, as long as it may take."

Click. Click.

Click.

"...does this thing even-"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.


[EXIT THREAD]

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