MISSION: World War III: Peace and the Pestilence of RIOTE {Final Stand}

The coffeemaker was broken. Of all the essential times for such an event to occur, it had to be the morning after a drinking gathering. Gathering. Work was happening in WTF-23 minutes and Spade Aeries, Head of Central HQ, was not even wearing pants. Strewn about his apartment were the indications that the night before he had been drunk. Hanging from the fan in the Great Room of his suite, inconveniently placed by the hand of Nikolaus Stuka, were the keys to Seven: his sweet, green womanizer mobile. Spade had just finished jumping and swiping at it with Shu's duster to get it down like a basketball player that was too short to reach the hoop. Of course, lacking the essential morning wake up smell of mocha burst with a hint of sugar, the disheveled man hadn't deducted the obvious solution. Angrily, self-loathingly, he reached for the light switch with a dark, marred look, and simply flipped it. The fan quelled to life, spinning vivaciously to its peak speed until the key ring was launched off the blade it had been balanced on. How did he even get those up there, Spade found himself thinking sluggishly as he ducked. The keys hit the wall and landed on the floor at his feet. He switched off the fan and left the room toting the metal that would get him to work...late.

Since he wasn't seeing double anymore from the effects of the various mixed drinks last night, Spade had difficulty finding where he put his wallet. Normally it would be on the counter, but if the evidence correctly concludes him stumbling around through his apartment before sleep, it could be anywhere. He shrugged off a shudder and went about stripping. His apartment for clues. Clad in but a pair of boxers, he eventually found the beat up leather thing equip with a bent credit card and no cash under his hamper that somehow had his boots in it. "Dammit," he muttered to no one in particular. Hell, he wasn't even listening to himself anymore. Well, at least he found his shoes, though he couldn't really walk into the office looking as he did. Life of the party as he was, Spade was one of the last people to leave--along with Niko that is. It was needless to say that a good sum of the booze was consumed by yours truly. The best part, however, was that Shula was there. Although she couldn't join them with getting smashed, she was there for a select amount of time whereas Spade's memory then trailed off. Where she was now, he'd never know...until he found his phone. And man, there were so many people from the Central military there that the gathering should have been held at the office. That way, they could all wake up there the next morning and get back to work. But Spade's dreams never came true.

He fumbled with his tooth brush, somehow still tasting the vodka martini rather than the effects of Crest wintergreen tooth paste. Then, he stuck his whole head into the sink, meeting the drain like an old friend. Hello, ladies and gentlemen (though mostly ladies), this is how the great Spade Aeries combats a hangover before going off to save the country from the evil, maniacal bad guys. Yes, it was wondrous being sober enough to conclude that the little metal disk in his drain was polished with Pledge and smelled like fresh, artificial lemons rotting in the summer heat. Heat > sun > SUNGLASSES. Fuck, where were his aviators? Spade whisked his head out of the freezing cold water with a splash of dark, wavy hair at the mirror before winging around in search for them. He had them last night, but somewhere between gallivanting around in his apartment and sleeping he had lost them. Wait, SLEEPING. He checked the bed and sure enough, they were carelessly tossing to the corner of his mattress, bent only slightly. He placed them on and glanced at the bedside clock beaming red, digitized numbers with a groan. Eight minutes, 12--11 seconds until he had to leave. Curses. Digging like a pooch in search for a bone, Spade uncovered his military uniform through the fray of opened drawers and wrinkled clothing. A clean uniform--finally! He slipped it on in about .5 seconds, stabbing himself with the metals he was required to wear when he attached them to his chest...proudly wasn't the word for it. As he left the room, he shot the coffeemaker but another nasty glare. This is your fault. It gurgled back in the throws of death. "You'd think I'd have done something wrong," Spade found himself responding whilst he tied his shoes on his new man couch. "I'm sorry, buddy, I'm going to have to pull the plug." He stood up and meandered over, yanking the wire out of the socket and killing power to the faulty, overused device. "We'll have the funeral later, I promise."

The last essential item to retrieve had a time requirement of three minutes, 49 seconds. This item was his cellphone... in which he had already tried calling twice. Through the shrill of the fresh cicadas outside, it was near impossible to hear the quiet buzz of his vibrate setting, irking Spade into wishing he never went to see Spiderman in 3D the other night on a date with Shu. "'Silence your cellphones' my ass." POCKET. It suddenly occurred to him that usually he wouldn't remember to take the thing out of his pocket when drunk. It was that laziness that defined him. Duh, Aeries. Maybe he was still a bit buzzed. He quick swallowed an ibuprofen and then dug up his jeans from last night to sure enough find his iPhone intact. However intact it was, he had 23 text messages. JESUS. While nearly all the early ones were unreadable, all the later ones made it sound like the plague had struck Central HQ. Sorry boss, can't come in today, embracing the throne. They all pretty much said the same thing. Amateurs. Okay, maybe he had pushed them too far with the Creig carbombs, but at the same time it wasn't like they had much to do at work today anyway: practice the same old war tactics, train the newcomers, make coffee, sign papers, call Shu on break, have a smoke, consider jumping off the roof out of boredom, read one of Shu's weird detective novels, make more coffee, talk about nothing on the phone to one of the security agents for an hour, try and convince Hans to take to the idea of a beer fountain, make mo-- You get the picture. Still, Spade, loyal as ever to his job and protecting the lives of those around him, was...four minutes late to work. Traffic was a bitch... But it was oddly packed this morning, raising his adverse suspicions.

Spade burst through the door. "Alright, what's going on to make six AM traffic so bad?!" Red lights were going off on not just the streets, but in Spade's head.

"At five this morning there was an attack on Fort Briggs by Drachman and RIOTE forces," Robert said instantly upon Spade showing up.

"An hour..." He fingered his shaven chin in rigorous thought. "How are they fairing?"

"There's been no contact."

"Well, that's comforting." Spade tested the waters, seeing no immediate reaction from those within hearing distance. Shifting from hangover mode and into full-blown leader mode, Spade stammered further into the huge meeting room where mostly everyone present was gathered already save for Hans (whom he presumed was in his office mulling over the options). Spade already knew what to do--no, he knew what they were going to do. "I want video now. Shut down the press to one channel and get traffic flowing in smoother. Call South HQ and tell them to hold their ground there under any circumstances. RIOTE attacking Fort Briggs, hah, it's a distraction. I want Lord Dietrich on the phone now."

"Sir, we've already tried calling him, but he's in a meeting."

A short pause.

"That tells me many things." He pulled out his phone and began texting quickly and effectively. He could only hope that Hans wasn't in the bathroom when the man received it. About half a minute later, to Spade's glee, he received a reply giving him exactly what he needed.

"Mobilize the troops and prepare for war." Spade left the room in a frenzy, immediately going to the television to watch the news. Already, there was limited footage of the attack. He stayed there for some time before heading into a meeting of his own with a few of the higher ups, going over the same battle tactics again, but tweaking them. If RIOTE came, it would be by getting through Creta...unless Fort Briggs fell. By the time all that was resolved, Spade glanced at his watch to see half the day had flown by without anymore news on Lieutenant General Reila Tsukino. He scoured the internet, tried her phone for the 43rd time, and sat poised in front of the television like a frog waiting for a fly. If it's all just a distraction...then why hasn't anything happened yet? He spent the next hour staring outside the window at the street where soldiers piled out in formation according to plan. No attack came--nothing. Spade was on edge, barely even texting Shu in the gaps of time between orders. Before he knew it, the sun sank and his eyelids drooped enough to convince him to drink the crappy office coffee. It tasted like cardboard, but he was awake again in time for dinner. They ordered pizza, distributing it to the men waiting in the street, told to still be at the ready even while they chewed. Pizza: dinner for champions.

Spade was barely making it in the air-conditioning let alone outside. Two hour long shifts for the squads of men seemed nigh on impossible, but they looked to be surviving heat stroke with their safeties intact. God forbid one of them pisses off the guy next to them because he took the last slice of pepperoni. Spade sighed and shifted away from the blinds, pacing the room in thought. They attack Fort Briggs enough to hold them even for an entire day, according to radio connection, have infiltrated the inside of the base and obtained Briggs uniforms, but no sign of Vanity, Aurelius, or Hild. No sign of major RIOTE members. Something else was happening in the background and it didn't involve attacking Central or South City. He played with a rubiks cube off of some random guy's desk, taking note that he would be off of work by this time. More time passed and he would be in Shu's arms by this time. And then the time when he would be figuring out how to save her also sifted away through his fingertips. This was waiting. The true essence of the word was bleeding over his paranoia, pulling taught every single man out there before even seeing shapes on the horizon. It was a mistake. Immediately Spade threw himself to the feet, grabbing the device on his desk that connected to the loud speaker and pressing the microphone to his lips.

"This is a direct order by Spade Aeries. I am calling all men in save for the lookouts." He cut the connection and took a deep breath. Hopefully I don't get fired for this. He waited, watching through the window again as they looked at each other and immediately began heading inside to cool off not just their bodies, but the anticipation. Spade needn't say anything; he already knew what it felt like to be behind walls rather than standing on black pavement in the sun waiting to get shot down by a surprise attack. Anticipation wore men thin and he wouldn't having a battle lost before it even began.

His watch beeped five PM whereas he proceeded to watch news reports on both his computer screen (honing in on North City) and on the large plasma television (showing Creta) once more. He looked back and forth between them muted, scanning the displayed words and pictures for evidence of what he suspected whilst listening to the static on his radio. Maybe I should have sent reinforcements... he thought. But no, Fort Briggs was more than worthy enough to thwart an attack on the scale that it was. However, at the same time, the enemy's friend-or-foe tactics were unsettling him. After so many were evacuated from London with little to no information as to why, what-- Text caught his eye and Spade grabbed at the remote, unmuting the TV to hear the professional drone of a reporter.

"--first began to appear as a car accident from a Limousin driver suddenly escalated into--" Her voice changed, her eyes got wide, smoke in the background grew higher, and one of the outward walls of the White House collapsed. "--oh god! There--there appears to be the sounds of gunfire being exchanged inside the ballroom. I would get a closer look but--KKYYYAAAA!" Debris had came flying towards the camera as various bombs went off around the area, spiking the picture into a fuzz. This continued for a good twenty minutes, the cameraman and reporter dodging fleeing Cretan soldiers with bloodied faces. They were somewhere downtown griping about a theater being bombed out when Spade realized he was gripping his chair so hard, he ripped the fabric. No... They were going to come through Creta like he had thought. RIOTE. At a quarter to six, the reporter finally circled around back to the White House where a helicopter zoomed off over their heads followed shortly by the same Limousin that had crashed through the wall. Spade was all but biting his nails. Who was in that car? "Information just came in. Lord Dietrich is missing--he's--he's been taken by RIOTE! Creta is retreating; I've been told to leave the scene immediately. Channel 78 out!" The screen went blank and then cut to commercials. Spade hit the power button with his foot and picked up his cellphone, staring at it. Who would he call--what could he do other than wait for the inevitable...?!

They were going through Creta. Was taking London their intention all along? They got Dietrich. Was Fort Briggs the decoy for London--or the decoy for Central? Spade phoned a few people, passing information through the radio. He listened again to the Briggs channel, hearing a slew of various orders. They were still fighting, falling back, but still fighting... It wasn't too late to send help, but to leave Central susceptible would be a grave mistake. That Limousin had gone East...East was Amestris. Shortly after, another meeting was held, this time with Hans in a large room. They discussed and then concluded the same thing as previously, irking Spade enough to text Shu in the middle of it: What do u think i should do? Her reply came quickly: See if anything is coming to Central. If so, try to evacuate the city and send them to South. Do you want us to shift to Central or wait? Spade threw his phone onto the desk he was leaning on, for a second sighing as one of the government officials monotonously mouthed on.

"I propose an evacuation of Central." Spade stood up, interrupting the man who looked wildly bewildered momentarily before straightening up with a brightened look. Spade sat down. Fabulous idea. He twirled a pencil.

"Fabulous idea, Spade Aeries. In order to prevent the blahblahblahblah..." That was the basic jist of it. Everything else went on until rather late at night wherein Spade massaged his temples and drank another cup of coffee. He finally replied to Shu, but felt it was half-assed a bit: i dunno. He waited five minutes with his head flat on one of the round tables beside his office before sending another longer one: evacuating Central even out of paranoia is worth it i think.. Or well, he hoped. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In fact, he had proposed it at the last meeting, but it fell on deaf ears. It had been too early then and lacked the essential information which alluded further to an attack on Central. He hesitated this time, but Shu managed to push him over the ledge. The fact that they both came to the same conclusion gave him enough confidence to stand up again. Truth be told, he needed to relax or he'd end up in the same zone as the men who had been standing outside in the long gone sun waiting for an attack that didn't come, but could come at any moment. Spade pulled out his iPhone and began playing crazy birds.

At one point in the horribly addicting app, he stood up and downed a glass of lemonade from the office fridge. The thing was packed full of it. At least their men were being well taken care of. When he left the small kitchen area, he passed by one of the men watching the Xingese news. The guy was obv. Xingese himself, but... there was smoke happening on screen. He glanced at his watch, 9:26 PM.

"Hey, turn that up," he said, getting the guy's attention who seemed more preoccupied with a cooking magazine than watching what was happening on the news from his home country. "...I know that face. Fuck...it--it's RIOTE." Ace. Ace was being attacked now. Spade was assaulted by a full-on older brother wave of protectiveness. Immediately, he went to his phone and called the kid, but it rang to voicemail. Fuck long distance calls costing me money!! He got nothing and nothing again. He glued his eyes to the television, witnessing uncensored chaos befalling the city capital. Cannibalism, crossfire, heavy sniper support, large black-clad platoon, psycho commander, Aerguese... These people weren't human. Now tell me, where is the justice in that!? The Aerugese had invaded too, most likely coerced by the very convincing terrorists. Fuckitall Ace didn't stand a chance. REINFORCEMENTS. He wanted to go himself. He wanted to go. Ace... Fuck obligations!!

11 PM the battle was quickly lost. No word from Ace. Spade, apart from raging over his younger brother, was falling asleep standing up. He managed to text Shu one more time: Watch the Aerugo border. Ace retreated. He had men flicking through various news channels all over the world, scouring the net for youtube videos and any hastily written articles. Tomorrow's paper would be riddled with horror, filled with towering numbers of the lost, and only upon that thought did Spade Aeries realize that this was a world war...and he was out of cigs.

At some point he finally fell--forced--was forced asleep: caught a few hours here and there. Ace was reportedly in the throne room. There was no real cellphone service there--no way of contacting him. Spade remembered being a middleschooler and hating that damn room. The Briggs radio station they qued in on was still transmitting orders. How they could fight all through the night like that was beyond him. Still, as the light grew in the sky, Spade was quite aware of what RIOTE was trying to do. Powerless. The screens showing the dying, the faraway gunshots in their own country served to squeeze the men dry. Spade himself was parched, wishing he could make a stop at the local brewery down the road, but alas, they were only being cornered...like mice. He grit his teeth, applied deodorant, and set about drinking the rest of the coffee left. It was only a matter of time now.


(POSTING ORDER: Hans > Central (I suggest giving an entire time lapse of the waiting period like I did) > Cretan Militants (only those coming to save Dietrich) > Vanity > Aurel > Vanity > RIOTE (Start the attack) > Central > Free for all of RIOTE and Central > Aurel > Dietrich > Xan > RIOTE (Start the civil war) > Xingese Militants, Aerugese Militants, Esparian Dudes, Gelemortian Militants, Fort Briggs, and Central free for all]

Sleep. Sleep was good. No, sleep was more than good. It was great. Especially after a late night. And oh, he had definitely had a late night! The leader of Amestris had foregone his well-tailored suits for a tuxedo, black bowtie and all. He had whisked his beautiful wife out for dinner and lots of dancing. The years had dropped away and the twinkling eyes of youth had lit up once more as the two of them danced as if they were in their twenties. And that youthful spurt had continued muuuuch later into the night. So needless to say, Hans Reinhardt was quite tuckered out.

That was why he greatly disliked when something began to screech and vibrate on his bedside table. Groaning, he wrenched one eye open to glance at the time. 5:15am? He'd only been asleep for maybe two hours. This had better be good! He grabbed at his cellphone and stared it. It was silent and not vibrating. Meaning it was not his phone that was rousing him from a sound slumber. He felt Brigitte stir in bed next to him as he realized the only other phone that the sound could be coming from. “Shit.” He grabbed at the cellphone that was kept on him no matter what. It was a secure line and only a few people had the number. Brigitte had teasingly bought a bright red case for the phone to keep it secure. Hah, what a joke that had been. Now it didn't seem so funny. Hans sat up as he reached for the emergency phone. “Ja?” He growled into the phone.

“Fort Briggs has been attacked. Combination of Drachman and RIOTE forces.”

“Shit. I'll be at Central HQ within the next hour. Have the conference room set up for me. Phones, TVs, maps... everything. And damnit all, try to get steady contact.” He pushed the end button on the phone and pulled the sheets off, standing up, bare-chested in his red pajama pants. Brigitte sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What is it, Viky?”

“Briggs has been attacked.” With that, he was out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. He didn't have time to shower; he needed to be on the phone. He brushed his teeth and quickly threw on a pair of black slacks and a royal blue button down shirt. As he got himself ready, he made phone calls. So many calls. He contacted the other government leaders; the leaders of the various cities. He warned them of the attack on Briggs and to be aware of their own borders. To North City he sent the word that if the civilians had the opportunity to evacuate, then they should do so. He was quite sure that Reila and the other soldiers had their hands full. He stopped in his office to grab his briefcase, noticing that Brigitte was wrapped in her robe, holding a cup of coffee out to him from his desk chair. “Here. You'll need it.” She managed a wan smile and he leaned down to kiss her goodbye. He grabbed the coffee and was out to his car.

Traffic wasn't exactly pleasant, and he was annoyed that he was behind. He wanted to be at HQ now. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach about quite a few things. As he pulled up to a stoplight, his regular cellphone dinged at him. In any other case, he would've left it. But he cursed and grabbed at it, seeing “Spade Aeries” on the screen. Hans chuckled a little; apparently Spade wasn't feeling too good about this either. Then Hans did something he had never done. He texted while he drove. Make the call. I'll be there in ten.

Ten minutes felt like ten hours, but Hans finally arrived at Central HQ. He met with an orderly briefly, he filled him in. Contact had been slim with Briggs and Lord Dietrich was unresponsive, being in some kind of meeting. Well, that was just great. Hans moved up to his conference room and sat in a chair most of the day, occasionally getting up to pace the length of the room. News trickled in and none of it was ever good. Briggs news was minimal, then at 5pm word came of trouble in Creta. That's when Hans called the council of war.

It was boring and so damned frustrating. They couldn't do a damned thing until they were sure where RIOTE was headed. But Spade clearly had the right idea when he interrupted someone to set up an evacuation. Hans glanced at him and nodded. “Let's get it done.” Other people nodded in agreement and then Hans felt himself step back. Soon enough the meeting was over. There was nothing that they could really do except wait until they saw movement. Late night news spoke of an attack in Xing, which just helped Hans' mood so much. They were coming from all sides. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Hans managed to speak with Brigitte a little that night, before falling asleep in the desk chair in the conference. But his sleep was fitful and it was filled with bad dreams. He awoke to watch the sun rise through the window. He stood at the window, gazing out with his hands clasped behind his back. Central looked beautiful in the light, finally rebuilt after so much decimation. And now it was threatened once again. Amestris was threatened once again. “No. Not again. This will be the last time,” Hans growled. “We will deny these evil bastards everything. They will not have our homes and they will not have us. They will have no tomorrows.” Hans Reinhardt was angry. And he was ready for war.

DUNP

DUNP DUNP

DUNP

DUNP

DUNP DUNP DUNP

The beat played like a smooth rhythm as flat as an G-cup spice as worries were for later, trickles of nostril-stinging alcohol chugged down Nikolaus's throat and burnt it in his lurid love for gin and tonic mixed with some lemons. As life would go, when given lemons, make lemonade. The glas towed higher than usual in one fell gulp, took in the hearty dehydrating contents of the devil's finery.

It was packed with young people and delinquents of all sorts Stuka would not have tolerated to even come along with, but upon the insistence of his assistant, he just HAD to come for better PR to connect to the youth. Damn that Peterson. In euphoric liberty of his upper cognitive function, he broke his typical routine of even wearing a uniform (or parts of it at least), arriving to the party with nothing more than a dress shirt, rolled up sleeves, lacking his cap, with his typical uniform pants and boots, grinding hips with underaged teenagers in this migraine-inducing beats that he would DEFINITELY regret later given the papparazzi are always sniffing up Nikolaus's hindsides. Everything was blurry, beyond his typical intake did he have one too many, toxicity was high and he felt his inner stomach contents pile up to his mouth yet resisted such an urge. Everything went so fast... it was all fading as if this particular chapter of his life was punted out in snippets.

...

......

..........

Suddenly light appeared after some darkness, his lids open up, grasping the plastic black of the garbage, the General pushed himself a bit ahead, finding himself conveniently wedged in some alley (thankfully in Central this time). His chin moist with yesterday's drunk vomit. Good God, this was worse than that one time he visited the strip club with Spade in the East, where his eyes were met with the abhorrent sight of Tataki's particular natural-ness. Once again missing BOTH of his boots, as his wads of cash he had in his pockets, turning them out, were frisked of him. A throbbing stinging pain finally settled in from Nikolaus's backside as he bailed from the large dumpster he seemed to have mingled with. Taking a quick look around, there was no presence, good, no life either close by at least. Loosening his belt, he contorts his head to look at his gentle muscles that be his well muscled left butt cheek to read as it follows, "Love May." An intricate tattoo lovingly and permanently made unto his skin.

...

"WHAT THE FU--"

~Later~

It was morning time in Nikolaus's office at the Security HQ, there was a crapload of paperworks that somehow spawned JUST after he emptied them out too yesterday, he had a throbbing headache, and sitting down tended to sting. He had a night where he COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER A THING. He had to clean up, and could never wear his favorite dress shirt again, it didn't smell the same. Probably burn it into a thousand cinders for whatever violation that occurred in the one time where he could not account for his life. There was HELL to pay. And he was REALLY SCREWED. There had BETTER not have been any dirt on this whole incident, worse yet... if he comforted an underaged minor with an adult's presence... he could get into a scandal WORSE than that one time a General Madanach hired 'sellers of the flesh' despite being a married man.

SHIT, SHIT, Nikolaus had to think to get out of this situation. His mind ran abuzz with ideas, and so far, he wasn't inspired. He had A) Completely no recollection of whom he even met, B) Had no idea who the Hell all those posers were, and C) Some hot stuff in Amestris was happening that apparently a Lieutenant General Likt decided to steer control away and take care of Security affairs after the WORST council meeting among the generals where the higher ranked generals had conveniently just usurped Nikolaus's say from how Security should be dictated, DESPITE him BEING THE GODDAMN CHIEF DIRECTOR. The guy who actually WORKS and KNOWS his beef and the ins and outs of how to secure things. But apparently desperate measures calls for desperate means, and one of them was to give a high brow Junker control over some Security divisions. STUPIDEST IDEA to send a bulk of them away from Central where the city needs most defending towards South, the city needs the most defending, and a token few forces would make this whole situation easier for any invading armies to come across.

So Nikolaus did the most sanest thing he could ever do and text message the most insane whacked out underaged girl he could ever think of, whom had the honors of being the youngest highest ranked militant in Amestris. Jay Motherfuckin' Furor.

~MUCH MUCH LATER~

How did this happen exactly and in the Central HQ? One moment, serious talks over Kanamian forces helping with security functions and the decision over it escalated to Jay SOMEHOW convincing Nikolaus to gamble on a game over Go Fish in the most desperate time around, where reports indicate Amestris has enrouching RIOTE forces coming upon its throat. Leave it to Jay to magically work her wonders over the otherwise business strict Nikolaus. Bless her soul, she is an angel, ahhh if only she was his daughter. Fulfilling things Kallie couldn't do, but that's water under the bridge.

For some time, cards were being shuffled in a very furious game of Go Fish, the cash of their stick-up-the-ass subordinates were spent on this high stakes Go Fish, as Nikolaus found himself challenged every turn of the way by the tactically minded Jay. It was as if she was born with the mind of the gamblers, enough to run an entire Kanamian underworld! (Little did he know, she actually did).

But then the inevitable happened. The announcement. That one thing which made Nikolaus not dread an ounce of his ineptitude towards recollection, but rather the most dangerous game to be spawned out of Drachma's tits.

An idiot Major would run around the mess hall and would chant, "THE RIOTE IS COMING! THE RIOTE IS COMING! THE RIOTE IS COMING!"

In the same time, Nikolaus's phone has been slapped with a text message, "RIOTE is coming, execute order designation #113." Well, that was horridly re-assuring given the gravity of the situation that would call for this...

Nikolaus slammed the cards on the table, and gave a grin to Jay, "GO FISH!"

=ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL, MAINTAIN HIGH ALERT, READY FOR DEFENSIVE MEASURES, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALL FORCES ARE TO KEEP A WEAPON ON THEM AT ALL TIMES=

Well, looks like the announcement was made after all. But was RIOTE actually here? Nikolaus didn't know, and it seemed more like a precautionary warning for the incoming storm. He stood up from the chair he was seated on when playing Go Fish on the table and adjusted his shirt. Lacking his Security uniform tunic, he wore a black shirt that outlined his great physique, suspenders and a blue beret, NEW BOOTS and his outlined security pants. His belt had an assortment of several sabers on him, kept it for a while for given the high alert status the military maintained, and his pistol he typically keeps around. Keeping actually most of his weapons around too, but he needed to get to his locker that he deposited his effects at, that being in this very building. CRAP. But that was fine, what are the odds that Drachma suddenly picks up the pace and gains suddenly arrives in Central City? If anything, MAYBE Likt has a degree of competence to leave a regiment around to stall those forces.

"Furor, we may have to evacuate the Mister Reinhard to Southern Amestris, if we are quick enough, we can get him out of here before the first Communist mofos sets foot in Central City." He balls his fists, facing the otherwise smaller sized Furor, tensing up his arms as muscles are clearly visible from Stuka's grip, "I'll designate a rendezvous point for you to meet up with Southern forces soon enough soon as I radio them in, afterwards, you must leave me Jay to protect the Chancellor. I will stay behind and lead whatever forces we have to stall Drachma as long as possible before they even come for South. Central is my territory, and I AM VERY WELL NOT GODDAMN ABANDONING IT. The only land each Drachmans get is eight foot of land, fitting enough for each of their graves."

Yes, it looks like this was a World War, and the Brigadier General has yet to start. For too long has he lacked any exercise, and this was the perfect opportunity. Nikolaus knew that the Drachmans will be gunning for Central for the reports made it clear. East, West and North have fallen. They are coming for the head of the dragon that is Central, his job was to secure, and if he couldn't even secure Central, then he would be a disgrace for the role of Security Chief Director, an otherwise "ceremonial" role that was almost not needed for action, but now is going to see the most of it. Fitting really. Guess he already has an objective in mind that kept flashing in his brain in a simple order, which was really strange... he was actually the one giving orders to protect than anything to do with destruction. Not his forté.

"Speaking of which, we'll need to find good old Hansy first." He says informally, "Best check if he is in Central HQ or not first."

It could've been the whiskey.

A long, slow breath inhaled from the depths of darkness, exhaling as a gentle sigh as Shula rolled over, the alarm on her nightstand chirping far too happily for this early in the morning, stopping it from rolling off and away in an R2D2 frenzy. Deep rust stayed shut, not wanting to move just yet. Her bed was too warm; even in the summer heat of South, Shula still liked to keep at least one blanket on her bed to curl into, especially if there wasn't a body next to her to keep her warm instead and kick and swim in the covers until by morning they were both a tangled mess of legs and padded fabric. The designer dress shirt far too large for her was wrinkled carelessly, pilfered from the hamper at Spade's apartment to sleep in back at her own, hours away. It had been a long-ass drive home; it always was, and that was one of the major drawbacks to them both living and working apart but both being as dedicated as they were to their work. It would change, though.

It might've been the gin.

As thoughts moved from transient blurs into more coherent patterns, a slow smile warmed up in the tiny Ishvallan's lips. It wasn't public by any means, and only a select few of their friends knew (and kept it quiet), but that didn't make Shula any less happy about it. Her days of driving back and forth to Central tp spend days off were numbered and would soon change. She'd be moving back to Central soon. and she'd decided she would leave South in the capable hands of Lisbeth. Lis was a fantastic second and Shu had no doubts Lis would take good care of South for her since they both knew that South was in so many ways Shu's baby and she'd had a hand in nearly every part of its rebuilding. Tiny hands balled into fists, an equally tiny torso arching upward above the bed, arms stretching and open shirt draping off her frame, deep tan interrupted by sunset purple over soft mossy green. Slowly Shula curled forward to sit up, silky white hair half-curled in some places and sticking out funny in others, totally surrended to 5A.M. bedhead. Her body begged for five, ten more minutes, especially since she'd had to drive home last night and lost a bit of sleep to the paperwork that she'd been ignoring just a little in favour of that party.

It could've been the three or four six-packs.

And OH, wasn't that a party. There were many things to be said about Spade, but one that seemed to maintain through everything was that Spade Aeries knew how to put together a gathering of people and make it something awesome. It was beyond wonderful to see Spade being himself and having a great time with everyone from Central like they used to. Even if Spade had accidentally set it on fire, that night bar-hopping and going to the strip club all the way out in East City had been pretty fun. Sure, there had been less-exciting (and insurance-claim-filing) nights like that with Spade and their cohorts, long before she had ever realized she was crazy about him, but Shu could always count on them being a blast. He was the life of the party, and last night was heading to a direction that even though Shula couldn't get drunk, everyone else there could, and most likely, would, including Mr. Life-Of-The-Party himself. Shula wished she could have stayed past her two fuzzy navels if only to record potential golden videos of people wearing a grapefruit like a hat. "I wonder who survived, came the sleepy, almost muffled chuckle. But even for the limited time that she'd been there, it had been so worth the drive back.

Rising as slowly as muffins on a damp day, Shula finally managed to force herself out of bed, not bothering to immediately remake it as she shrugged the shirt free from her lithe frame. The good news about routines were that eventually your body learned to autopilot and do most of it without too much thought required, leaving Shu free to space out while she woke up slowly. Dear Ishvalla, she missed CAFFIENE. Or even the energy from sugar! Anything to help her get going on these too-early mornings after too-long drives with too-much paperwork to come home to. But slowly, despite her brain's sluggish resistance and her body whimpering for more sleep and to return to the nice dreams she was having, Shula's day started, the bed-head tamed and turned into a braided bun, pinned neatly against her head. The rumpled, borrowed dress shirt had been exchanged for her uniform, neatly hanging in the closet. It was still so early; nearly an hour earlier than she'd have normally gone into work. But that paperwork... It just didn't end. The phone buzzed hard against her pillows, catching Shu's attention as she grabbed the last of what she needed. The hell? At this hour? It chirped now as it buzzed again, text messages coming through at the same time as a call. And again, another text coming through.

Paperwork and folders tucked under one arm, Shula swiped at her phone, answering as she dashed down the stairs. Why the hell was her secretary calling her at half-past five? Why the hell was anyone other than herself and Starbucks baristas awake for that matter? "I'm just leaving the house, Rosie, what's-"

"Sorry it's early Ma'am but it's an emergency. You need to get here before everyone at the office panics!" Shula was now a lot more awake and alert than she had been ten minutes ago, the tones of genuine uneasiness heavy in the other woman's voice. Fort Briggs was attacked half an hour ago. Details are still sketchy and coming in, but it's all over the news. You need to get here." That urgency rushed Shula out of the door, the woman fighting with her own locks as she rushed out and down the stairs to her car.

"Tell everyone I'll be there in a few and pool all the information available that you can." She nearly hopped the last few steps to get to her car, rushing from her parking space and tearing down the street, making the tiny four-cylinder engine roar in a way that would have made her fiance quite proud. This was one of those times Shula was glad she'd picked her loft's location close to work as she got there in record time, parking and running in. The files she'd worked so carefully on all night long suddenly didn't matter in the least as they landed on Rosie's desk on the way into her office, red eyes burning with quelled fear. It was nearly six, and the tiny General's office was packed with people who desperately wanted and needed to know what to do. "Intel, fill me in."

Hurried reports, news articles and clips from TV reports whizzed by Shula in a flurry of information that she had the hardest time swallowing her emotions for. Now wasn't the time or the place. "We're going to sit tight," came her orders at last, office runners nearly panting as they came in and out with fresh intel every few minutes like a relay race. "I need a team assembled for crowd control in South City. We have to keep everyone calm and keep sudden riots from happening; security and MP's, that's your cue, GO. Word from Central is that there's still no word from Briggs, but no reports of anything heading into Amestris of yet. We're going to up the security and surveilance to make sure nothing comes at us from the south, and prepare to mobilize to move out in any direction we have to." Operating on red alert but staying put felt so strange, everyone jumpy as they held their breath, just... waiting. The MP's kept the residents from panicking, providing as much information as they could, but as the day wore on the base fell into restlessness.

Dinner at the office lacked its usual mirth, nobody making funny comments about the spicy aromas from Shula's leftovers mingling and competing with the frozen dinners and mini pizzas. There were no goofy pranks, the eternally-stolen stapler halting its trek entirely, every office working to keep information fluid into the office, out to the people, and most importantly, circulating back to Central as news reports dominated the stations about the sudden evacuations of London. Fort Briggs was Amestris' stronghold, and everyone knew that; so why attack London? Why move from one country's fortress and move to the capitol of the neighbouring country? Very little of dinner went down with ease as a text from Spade buzzed through while he was at a meeting. What do u think i should do? Hell if she knew what RIOTE was doing, let alone what Amestris should do. Shu bit her lip lightly, turning her chair around and looking out her window to South City. Her city.

Be thou for the people. If RIOTE was going to try and take on Amestris again, so soon after they'd rebuilt and just got people calmed from the last wars, potential losses could be devastating. Her fingers tapped the keypad screen hurriedly, only one choice clear to Shula at the moment. See if anything is coming to Central. If so, try to evacuate the city and send them to South. Do you want us to shift to Central or wait? There was a long gap, Shula letting out a deep breath. Central had repopulated quite a bit, even though the numbers weren't nearly what they had been before yet. It would be a lot to take on for South if that went through. Eons later, her phone finally buzzed in return.

i dunno.

.....Helpful, dear, thank you. I'll take that as a 'stay-put. Thin fingers rubbbed at her temple, Shula agitated, antsy, and trying to not make herself sick worrying as she watched the newsfeeds steadily. The mug of tea put in front of her got her attention, Shula looking up to see one of her office runners looking at her in a way that was many things all at once. Tying to be comforting while wanting to be comforted all at once, both of them knowing unfortunately that Shula didn't have the answers needed. "Anything I can do, Ma'am?" A lightbulb buzzed on somewhere in the dark recesses of Shu's mind, her hand reaching for her keys and some loose cenz from her wallet.

"Yeah, actually... Weird request, but it'll get you some fresh air. Go to the store for me and grab me two cartons of Lucky 7's, and two of the big 24-packs of beer. Fit what you can of the beer in my fridge, and put both cartons of cigs in the freezer." Money and keys were tossed to the boy who looked baffled but knew better than to question it as he dashed out. The phone finally buzzed again, another message coming through. evacuating Central even out of paranoia is worth it i think. At least they were both of the same mind about these things; Shula would rather have all Central come crash at South for a sleepover than to lose so many when they had been given at least a window of time to prepare.

It is, I agree. Cetral evacuees heading to us- right on top of that. "Right on top of that, Boss." How many times had she said that very thing to Spade as she conquered his office to make his day a bit easier, even though she had the nightmares of her own department to worry about? Every problem, every late night, every errand he needed, ever minor crisis- always answered with the same thing, and that somehow always meant it was done, about to be done, or that he could let out a breath and relax. Hopefully now it would have the same effect. Taking a breath, Shula braced herself for the force of the wave that would be coming as she pushed down the button to make an announcement. "Attention all South personnel: Orders will be coming through to all department CO's, but volunteer units will move out to assist security and MPs. We have a few million refugees coming directly here from Central city, and possibly more from other parts of the region. It's going to be a very long night, everyone." Hotels all through South would be notified to accomodate the onslaught of people running from where death seemed to be on speed-dial.

The sun had fallen as though melting into deep pools of blood, the low-hanging moon almost trying to cast golden bandages onto its counterpart. South City was insane as people streamed in steadily, traffic crawling for miles and miles. The military, the police, the fire departments, the volunteer humanitarian groups, everyone was busy, all the while Shula trying to keep herself grounded. Trying to organize chaos was like herding cats and not really working all that well, but somehow they were at least managing to keep things from getting violent from the panic. It was after eleven when Shula's phone buzzed again, Shu nearly missing it buzzing through her pocket as she continued to try and orchestrate things in a peaceful fashion. Watch the Aerugo border. Ace retreated. .....Aerugo was involved, too. And Xing had retreated. Fort Briggs was infiltrated and still fighting. London was evacuated, the White House destroyed and Lord Dietrich gone. Her heart moved to her throat, Shula struggling to swallow it down. Everyone was getting in on this one from all sides. Every outpost along the Aerugese border was alerted, roads being blockaded as orders sent from her office were very clear in that nobody goes in or out through the Aerugese checkpoints. After what happened with Fort Briggs, they couldn't even trust anyone driving into Amestris touted as Amestrians, and Shula knew firsthand how good the Aerugese operatives were at looking like whatever they wanted to blend in. Like hell I'm letting them get through here.

Sleep never came that night, South HQ's hands entirely full. Refugees everyhwere, panicking people, newsfeeds coming in from all sources and being translated as quickly as possible. Her eyes would only close for brief snatches of time, only minutes each, Shula running herself as hard as she could had absolutely despising that damned seal in her right now, coffees, teas, and energy shots downed successively as they were each randomly passed to her, Shula insisting she was fine despite not looking any less tired as the sky's colours changed. They all felt it. Like static in the air before a storm after the temperature dropped and the wind stilled completely, it was there. Tangible. Today... was gonna suck. The popping noises that came from Shula's neck, back, and arms sounded rather painful, anyone in earshot wincing. Shu stepped away from everyone for just a moment, ducking back into her office that looked like a bomb of paperwork, sticky notes, printed pages and none of it sorted; hers and Spade's nightmare in office-form. Her phone was pulled from the breast pocket, Shula opening it to send one last text while she knew she could Now, before the rain and the day went to hell.

I love you.

~PRIOR~

"Hit me! SLAM! A fine glass of whiskey stood before Jay, who knocked it back, enjoying her cigar between gulps as everyone partied around her. In one corner, it appeared Niko was having a tramp stamp tattooed onto his upper bum, which Jay found amusing, but noted NOT to pay mind to, unless she needed blackmail to make Niko have to iron her socks or something. Then again, Jay often went barefoot since neither of her foot were susceptible to injury anyways, and when shoes were needed, deigned to wear combat boots, sockless, so ironed socks were really not neccesary.

Soon after, she finished her smoking and drinking, and noted Niko SEEMED to have passed out, drunk off his feet, in a pool of vomit, so she did the most humane thing possible. She took him outside, into the FRESH OPEN AIR of the back alley behind the bar! SPLENDID! Then, for good measure, she took the liberty of removing his shoes and money, for safe keeping, if he ever whined about having lost such items. And just in case paparazzi came by and assumed hat certain activities were taking place in that alley, she went back into the bar, and left Niko for the alley cats. Mind you, he was too out to know it.

Aaaaand she partied harder for the rest of the night, and even got this May person's phone number, for better blackmailing purposes.

~Now~

Beads of sweat dripped down through Jay's blonde locks of hair, as she gripped the cards tightly in her hand. It was all or nothing; she either won big, or went home without lunch money. And she HAD to have her ribeye! HAD TO! Carefully, she glanced at her cards. A seven... A nine... A three... Hmm...

"Got any... TWOS?" Ah,yes! The wonderful trick of requesting a card you DON'T have! Never fails to trip someone up! So, her bluff in mind, she smirked at her worthy adversary, one Nikolaus Stuka, as she heard people running around like headless chickens. Apparently, Briggs was in trouble... Well, Reila and that red-headed guy had things under control, she figured. And then CURSES. He had NO twos! Angrily, she snatched up a card, and it was a two. WHAT!? She had no use for THIS!? WH-

Oh, and then the announcements got more serious. Hmm... Not good! Standing, she assembled her minigun, Uno, and made sure to check the ammo and the barrel, in case it were jammed. GOOD! She kept it maintained well, she thought. "Well, Niko, we shall continue this game at some other point! We gots works to do!" And Niko quickly assumed the stance of a CONFIDENT and TALENTED general, giving quick and inspiring orders. Jay nodded. "Objective one! Not die. OBJECTIVE TWO. Escort Hans to safety! OBJECTIVE THREE, however, is to finish this game and grab a slice of celebratory pie after brutally slaughtering some stupid commies! I'll go get my Drachman tank, actually, just to rub it in their faces. Haw haw!" Minigun at the ready, she set it down on the table with a loud thud, due to its weight.

Everything else all set, she called home to her militia in Kanama. "Sup peeps! Briggs has been invaded, so I need every bit of our forces we can get to maintain a safe passage between Central and South, for the Chancellor. Counting on you all!~" Flipping through her contacts again, she called in to Becky. Yes, Becky. THE MOST USELESS ASSISTANT EVER, who happened to be a pretty decent driver and a fair shot. "BECKY, YOU FISH! Becky, I'll need for you to ready Kasatka's cannons and have it outside my office in Central by the time I get Hans to South! Also, have a cappucino on my desk, and then you can do whatever it is you do. DEUCES!" Hanging up, she nodded to Niko and grabbed her minigun. "C'mon RIOTE! MAKE. MY. DAY."

That shield maiden without a shield packed inside a transport vehicle full of those deemed as and considered enlisted packed to do extremely defensive measures to be implemented to the plane of reality. Desperation, Angelika read it all on those unshaven faces. Amestris had seen much and will continue to do so. Weak and decadent, such was the state of the fatherless central. Driven by bitter bravery and courage, the small platoon drove forward. The objectives were pretty simple, hold your position until the complete tactical withdrawal of the councilor and all important personnel.

Nameless and remembered as they were, this small platoon of the rank-less known as the enlisted venturing onwards like the doomed ride trying to retake Osgiliath. The feeling remained the same with slight differences. There were no glorious blossoms falling upon them, there were no faithful roses handed to their hands, there were none giving them sincere farewells. They were only met by the fleeing evacuaitng crowds, this was not Osgiliath..but it was the same cold winds of despair hailing and welcoming into the unknown destiny.

Checking her assault rifle, she counted the bullets. Two clips, each having 100 and three clips for her handgun that would make in total 36 bullets, three grenades and two another which would make it all 300 to neutralize and other 200 until fatigue gets her. Five hundred souls to vanquish. True, it was a long life to live.

In various strategic locations which would stop if were tactically- any hostile advance towards the palace, small platoons were at the ready. While barricades were being smartly deployed. Modern Panzerfausts and anti-material weapons were locked and loaded to present ROITE with a very courteous greeting. Amestrian machine guns were ready to unload it's ammo into foreign drachman flesh. This small token forces was distributed within the shadows, behind barricades and spots unseen . All positioned with one task in soul and mind, no one shall pass through.

Desperation can be quite the inspiration, while they find themselves cornered they would find themselves fighting to the bitter end, all for the glory of the fatherland.
Their enemies, they didn't know what awaited them.

Mmm... showers..... Best thing since sliced bread she swore. Sleep still clung to her eyes like caramel, refusing to give her up as she stood there beneath the hot water at who knew what time of the day. With all her recent paperwork, odd traveling thanks to her parents, and general attempt at living, time had gotten quite bendy. Sometimes it would seem correct, and other times she was confused when she looked out her window and saw darkness as opposed to the sunshine she expected. Though what did time really matter anymore? Sighing heavily, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel about her body, tucking one of the corners into the top as her hands found the necklace that perched beside the sink on the counter, the chain glittering from the steam and light. Martin... would he approve of the life she had right now? Would he tell her to find a different career? Would he be disappointed in what she had done? Her eyes closed as her lips tightened, a familiar weight clenching down on her throat which made it hard to draw breath. She could feel his hands on her shoulders, his lips brushing against her cheek with that little smile of his while those free strands of hair tickled her skin. You're doing fine. Now you should get to work.

Right. Work. That thing that was important. Her alarm began to blare in the other room, signaling that it was time for her to get up and go do her duty for the country she now called home. She quickly slipped the necklace about her neck and hurried to wrap a towel about her head before running to shut the damned thing off, she didn't need complaints from any neighbors about the sound. From there it was a mad race to get ready for work, for once actually grabbing her uniform and pulling it on. At South she usually went to work in something appropriate without necessarily being her uniform. No one seemed to have any real issue with it so she had just continued status quo. But today? Either it was because she was in a hurry, or the fact that it was already laid out ready to go that made her snatch it up in her hands. It always felt a little too baggy in some area's, and too tight in others (20 points if someone can guess where). Growling in frustration, she cast away the pants and instead stepped into the pencil skirt that went down to her knee's that matched her uniform. It was helpful to have a mother in the fashion industry (even if it was as an agent), it meant she could make special requests and get them. She glanced over herself in the full length mirror in her apartment before snatching up her keys, purse, files, and hat and running out the door, locking the door in a rush.

Why WAS she in such a hurry to get to work? Why had Martin told her to get there? She rarely felt him in such instances anymore, and when he did appear it was always a big deal since he was always right. Did that mean that spirits were real? That maybe there was something to the whole theories of life after death? She had never been a religious woman so such things had always seemed far-fetched and fanciful, but could she deny its existence when she was having such experiences as these? Her car was parked on the street just outside her apartment, the lights flashing as she unlocked it with the clicker before sliding inside. She should slow down, calm herself before she went into work. She didn't want to seem some disheveled mess! Except she just couldn't shake the ominous feeling hanging over her head today! Her gut was telling her that something had happened, something big and it wasn't the pirates in the bay. So when her phone began to go off in her purse, it startled her a bit. "Shit..." She muttered under her breath as she had to hunt for it, dragging her finger across the surface before placing it to her ear. "Hello? Lisbeth speaking." She could practically feel the strained calm on the other end. "Lizzy, you are needed immediately at HQ. Brigadier-General Brighton is on her way as well. Fort Briggs was just attacked!"

.. what? Fort Briggs.... Fuck. Her cars engine roared to life, "Shit, I'll be there in a few minutes." And with that, she hung up her phone and let it fall back into her purse as she tore off into the streets. There was only one group who would dare to pull such a thing and that had to be RIOTE. She could feel the venom building up in her glands due to the anger that that sent through her veins. No, calm. She couldn't go spitting her venom at the windshield, it hadn't done anything to deserve it. Sure enough, a few moments later (and maybe a few red lights she had sped through), she arrived at her destination. Her hat was stuffed on top of her head as she gathered up all her things and ran inside, barely stopping for anyone as she went to her office which was just down the hall from Shula's. She could see that people were already gathering in her office so once her files were down on her own desk, she left her purse and hat before hurrying over as well. She leaned close to one of the officers and whispered, "What are the details?" He blinked at her sudden arrival but leaned in to whisper back, "Fort Briggs was attacked a half hour ago. RIOTE and Drachman forces by the looks of it." She hated being right sometimes.

Her phone began to vibrate again in her pocket, making her startle and glance back to her boss, Shula, before subtly leaving the room to return to her office. "Lisbeth, where are you right now?" That was her father, why did he sound so upset? "I'm at work, South HQ. Why? Why do you sound so flustered? Where are you?" Didn't he have a business meeting in Xing with his associates? There was a moment of silence which she took to close her door quietly, her fingers lingering on the knob as her father began to speak again. "Good, I'm glad. I trust you know the news of Briggs?" "Of course, I had to rush in because of it. Dad... what is it? Are you in trouble?" He was really starting to worry her. This didn't sound like one of those phone calls where he was just checking in with his darling girl, there was an urgency in his voice. "Xing was attacked by Aerugo. I'm fine, the mob got out before it got locked down. I think Aerugo is winning." She felt herself freeze, leaning against the door heavily at this fresh intel. Aerugo had attacked? This... this couldn't be coincidence. "I.. I'm glad you are safe. Stay that way ok? Where is mom?" She asked as she blinked rapidly, her heels thudding against the ground as she went back to her desk for certain reports as well as a fresh piece of paper. Dammit!

"She's in Creta for work. I haven't heard anything from her though today." She swore she could hear an explosion in the background, "I've got to go. Stay safe, I'll call you again when I can. I love you." "Love you too Dad. Watch your-"[/i] The line cut off before she could finish her thought, leaving her with that uncomfortable fear in her body. No. Her father would be fine. The mob would take care of its own, and they would certainly ensure that he got out fine. But still.... What if- Her phone began to ring again and she quickly picked it up, was it her father? "Hello, Lisbeth-" "Oh thank god.. Lisbeth sweetie.. Are you fine? Where are you? Has your father called you?" Her mom sounded in worse shape than her father and it took a lot to shake either of them up. Sometimes she thought her mom more than her dad. "Mom, I'm fine. I'm at South HQ. Yes, he just did." She filled her in on what her father had managed to tell her before the line went dead, biting her lower lip as she could hear her mother's breathing. The woman was under a strained calm. Lisbeth could also hear other voices in the background, and they all sounded like girls. "Where are you? Are you with your girls?" If she was with her girls, it would mean she was back in New Orlean's. If she wasn't... "No, I'm in London with one of my talents. I..I'm relieved to hear you are both well. RIOTE soldiers have kidnapped the King. There was this huge fight in the White House." Another cold chill went down Lisbeth's spine. She slowly sat down in her chair as the news sank in, switching hands as she began to write this down. "Shit. They are more organized than before. Ok, stay safe. Do you still have that one place in London?" She could tell her mother nodded even though she knew she couldn't see that. "Yes, we are on our way there right now. Lisbeth... I love you. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." That brought a small smile to her lips despite the darkness that had now settled over their world. "Love you too mom. I'll be careful." She hung up and took a deep breath, both hands running over her features before sliding through her long black hair.

So RIOTE forces attacked Fort Briggs... Aerugo attacked Xing... and Creta now lacked its King. All within.... Her eyes looked up to the clock and blinked, dumbfounded at how long those phone calls had taken. Had those pauses been longer than she thought? Had she zoned out? It had been almost fourty-five minutes with those two calls. Christ.... "Attention all South personnel: Orders will be coming through to all department CO's, but volunteer units will move out to assist security and MPs. We have a few million refugees coming directly here from Central city, and possibly more from other parts of the region. It's going to be a very long night, everyone." Lisbeth stared up at the speaker that Shula's voice came from, the words almost not even processing in her mind. So they were evacuating Central... Good. A knock came to her door, snapping her out of the thought train she had boarded with all of this shenanigans going on. "Come in." She called, hurriedly opening up one of the files she had been working on the day before since she wasn't sure how much anyone else knew.

The woman walked in and laid a few files down on her desk before saluting her and leaving. "Thank you." Lisbeth called before she began to look through them slowly. They were a copy of information regarding Fort Briggs and their attack. The images were doing nothing to help her nerves or calm her fears about the safety of her parents or her country. She had to talk to Shula. Now. She couldn't sit idly by while RIOTE sought to tear the world apart. She hadn't realized how much time had passed while she looked through them meticulously. The folders snapped closed as she pushed herself up resolutely, taking a deep, cleansing breath before walking around her desk towards the door. This had to happen now. Her hair flowed out behind her as she walked down the hall, her hand pausing before she knocked on the door frame and stepped inside. It looked like Shula was just sending a text so she wasn't interrupting anything too critical, but still. "Brigadier-General? May I have a word?" Her voice was clear and strong even though inside she was still a bit of a mess. "Xing has fallen to Aerugo and Lord Dietrich has been taken by RIOTE. I request permission to join Central in their fight against them." So she hadn't really waited to see if her boss was willing/able to talk... oops?

She had been woken by the buzzing of her phone. The vibrating and flashing causing Wheatley to enjoy a new and rare toy. Batting it with his purr making an excited burring noise. She sat up with a sigh rubbing her eye. A annoyed pout on her lips. If this was her brother or worse Spade calling from the party drunk wanting her to bake cupcakes or something she was not going to be impressed. As she lifted the screen to her line of vision. Jet? Why was Jet calling this early.

Flicking the screen so the phone could be answered she lifted it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked cautiously wondering if maybe Jet had lost his phone and some good Samaritan was trying to track the missing owner. "Hey princess, I'm sorry for waking you up so early. I've just... had this bad feeling all night and I got worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay," His voice soothed her ear's and she almost could feel his presence in the room. Wrapping her in a strange warmth that was almost haunting. She smiled softly leaning back into the pillows her fingers soothing Wheatley's fur as the white cat sulked over the loss of his toy. "Well bar being awoken so early I'm ok.... me and Wheatley are just curled up in bed but I suppose I can bake waffles for everyone in work.... don't worry Jet...everything's okay." The soft chuckled crackled over the phone line as he seemed content with her answer. Wheatley watched her with an almost judging look that only cats did. "Sorry about that sweetheart, I'm just happy you're okay. I'll let you get back to sleep."

She yawned loudly and pawed at the pillow fluffing it. "It's ok...I miss you....maybe tonight we can organize....a trip." A trip away would be nice....she had almost suggested taking him home to meet her parents but it had to be too soon for that...she stifled her words with another yawn blaming the early hours for it. "I miss you too princess. Of course, that sounds wonderful. Can't wait until I see you again," sighing softly at his nickname she tsked quietly to herself. "Get some sleep Jet.....Don't let your dreams worry you..." If only he had been here....she would of known a way to mend his worries. "I'll try. You too okay? I know how you can get when you don't sleep well," She pouted hoping there was a way he could see it with his mind. "Oh sush you....your so mean to me...." He laughed and she could help but smile. "You like it and you know it. Besides, just means I love you." She stopped wondering if she had fallen asleep and dreamed that line. She was taken aback by it. Almost as if it had been said to soon...it had rocked her and left her unsure of a response. "Get some sleep...your saying silly things again," "That just means you're blushing again. I will, sleep well my angel. Sweet dreams!" she nodded to herself softly still feeling unsure...she doubted she would even sleep now her mind fully awake and buzzing now. "Sleep well my knight....speak later."

She lay in bed for a while staring at her clock that stare mockingly back flashing the digits that only fussed and blurred to her in a simple state of you should be sleeping Sighing and tossing herself to the pillows she tried to embrace sleep but still her mind was reeling. Do I love him? She pondered this as Wheatley mewed softly moving over and rubbing his head against her cheek softly. Sleep.... a silent order as she scratched his ear curling up with him. Maybe she could ponder it when she had more energy. After all she had work and staying up fretting would do no good to her.

Come morning she entered her office Wheatley hopping down from her shoulder and stretching as he reclaimed the building that Spade and Hans pretended to belong to them. Silly humans this was Wheatley's building.

She sighed sipping her tea looking out over the view her office window gave her. Wondering about her earlier taught. For once the office was peaceful thanks to the party the night before. Wondering who was to drunk to work today. Seriously Spade's parties always ended up with half the staff not coming in or being useless zombies. She sighed softly staring back at the paperwork on her desk. Her heart not in the right place to work.

She had finally gotten around to working on a new toxin. Her office now a bubbling chemistry lab as a new neuro toxin was mixed. The air in the building seemed tense but she had no clue why. It was strange but then again maybe something awkward had happened at the party. Texting Tataki for a brief moment to tease him knowing he had gone to it.
To Tataki

Hope you didn't party rock to hard <3

from Emma

Giving the cat's fluffy ears a scratch she hummed softly to herself. Writing down her formula and chemicals in her little blue book. She couldn't help but day dream of what trip Jet might whisk her away on. Checking her chemicals and taking inventory before bottling up the new one and placing it in her pack. Ready....hopefully to never be used. Checking her clock for the time 4:25 pm flashed back at her and with a sigh she stood. Maybe she might as well go home early....not much was happening and all she could really think about would be what to make for dinner that night.


"This is a direct order by Spade Aeries. I am calling all men in save for the lookouts.” She blinked as the sound echoed slightly with the electronic crackle that was only common with the loud speaker that was in desperate need of being updated or replaced. As she headed out into the halls to see what was going on she heard whispers. Brigg's is under attack.... What? No one has heard from them since the attack....maybe there all dead.... She dropped the papers in her hand with a soft thud. Jet! She rushed back to her office not caring who she knocked out of the way reaching for her phone grabbing at it and dialling the numbers she knew off by heart not caring to waste the time to look it up.

The rings made her heart thud louder and louder in her chest. Please....Please answer....the chant was more desperate now then any time she had rang someone before. Not even when her car broke down in the middle of no where had been this desperate.

I'm sorry the number you are calling can not be connected right now...please try again later

The phone dropped from her hands as the mocking automated voice buzzed and crackled. Slowly she sank to the floor as her world felt cold. Jet....please be all right.... she begged as tears filled her vision. For the first time in a long time she prayed to who ever was listening that someone would look out for her knight and keep him safe.

It had felt like hours since she heard of the attack when a knock on her door revealed Elliot. Her red rimmed eyes glowered at him almost daring him to make a remark. She wanted non of the taller blondes venom. His hair in that silly spike as he strode over. His hand gasping her shoulder and pulling her into her chest arms embracing her. Though he had mocked her relationship with the brigg's second in command even showed expressed dislike and caution to it....he knew she needed him.”Emma...I'll stay with you...mother and father are safe...I advised them to go south for now...” She sniffed and nodded. Cuddling closer to her brother a soft smile on her lips. It was almost like back when they were small....him protecting her from the nightmares that may of plagued her that night. For a moment she was glad he was here...she really didn't want to be alone.

It was odd how both of them now sat curled together on the sofa watching the news. Her brother's sniper rifle sat to his right loaded...ready. It was enough to make her sick and she couldn't help but worry for everyone. She sent a text to Tataki even inviting him over to wait....to pray...to hope...that the inpending doom was not coming...that for one moment everything was normal. Her phone grasped in her hands as if magically it would ring and Jet's excited voice would be on the other line telling her the danger was over and he would come to see her. But as 5 pm tolled and the new flashed a urgent report her heart sank. "--first began to appear as a car accident from a Limousine driver suddenly escalated into--" smoke billowed as the walls crumbled and she clutched herself to her brother. Wishing this was a movie as he placed a comforting arm around her. Almost silently telling her that somehow...everything will be all right. "--oh god! There--there appears to be the sounds of gunfire being exchanged inside the ballroom. I would get a closer look but--KKYYYAAAA!" She shut her eyes trying to ignore everything as she spiralling into her collapsing fantasy that everything was just fine. "Information just came in. Lord Dietrich is missing--he's--he's been taken by RIOTE! Creta is retreating; I've been told to leave the scene immediately. Channel 78 out!" Creta...there homeland had fallen. A soft sob escaped her as she could hear the soft grinding of Elliot's teeth. He too was in a silent forum of morning. He too was worried and lost.

It been about half an hour after the news report and the tv was on silent. She had Dial Jet again and again praying he might answer. But to no avail each time it had failed to connect. In the end a quiet hand from Elliot on top of her's told her to stop and with a soft shake of his head she placed the phone down in defeat. Her heart felt broken inside trying not to give up hope in this hopeless situation.

In the end she tried to do some regular task like cooking. She managed to scrounge up ingredients to make a simple beef stew. Managing to dish up enough for Elliot herself and even Tataki and Spade if they chose to eat. Taking it to the offices and placing the trays with some juice and bread on there desks. But as she her self sat down to eat she could only toy with it. Had Jet gotten a chance to eat tonight? Was he safe? Was he a prisoner? In the end she just stared blankly at the meal in front of her as Elliot forced his own down. The grim expression on his face reminding him he would have to eat for strength...not that he really wanted to. The rifle still sling on his back as an awful reminder that any moment now the war could be on them.

By 9:30 she had managed to eat a little. But barley anything almost to the point Elliot wanted to force feed her so she would have the energy. But as the screens showed the nightmare in Xing she was broken on the inside. This was part of the reason she hadn't wanted to join the military...the war...the horrid awful chance of there being a war. And now she was on the very tip about to fall into it. She was hating every second of it. She curled up on the sofa watching as reports came in of Xing slowly falling to defeat and at 11pm it was officially announced. But there was no word from Briggs and she stifled the urge to cry again. Her own exhaustion trying to pull her into a world of either blissful dreams full of denial or horrid nightmares. The warm woollen blanket was placed over her as she looked up. “Get some sleep....I'll stay here too..” Elliot....he was a lovely brother when he wanted to be. Burying herself into the pillow trying to get some sleep. Flicking her phone to a picture of Jet she had on it. Staring into her boyfriend's beautiful eye's she realised something. The answer to her question earlier. She couldn't live without him. She was deeply in love with the man.

Csilla's alarm began to chime at her at the usual time: 7:15am. She groaned and rolled over to the other side of her bed, gently smacking at her alarm. She then sat up wearily and rubbed at her eyes. TIRED. SO tired. Silly Spade and his silly parties. Luckily, Csilla had been smarter than most of the people there. She had enjoyed two strawberry daiquiris and had cut herself off there. It had been a lot of fun though, seeing Shula and bouncing around with the great group of people from Central. It had to have been her favorite part of the night, watching Nikolaus get Spade's keys up onto the ceiling fan. It hadn't been an easy feat, but it had been humorous. Csilla had also enjoyed turning the lights off on people and making the shadows dance, just to add to their drunken entertainment. All of the fun didn't change the fact that Csilla had gotten to bed later than usual and was therefore tired upon awakening.

She went about her usual morning routine, starting the coffee pot before heading to the bathroom. A ten minute shower and she was out, wrapped in towel. She then went back to her kitchen, popping two Eggos into the toaster. She changed into her uniform and pulled her wet hair into a disorderly bun as the toaster chimed. She smothered some butter and syrup on her waffles, pouring herself a cup of coffee and adding her cream and sugar. Chomping and sipping at her respective breakfast items, she returned to the bathroom to blow-dry her hair. Then it was time to pour another cup of coffee into her travel mug and finish her final waffle as she walked to the parking garage. She smiled a little at the white Porsche, getting inside. She'd been very careful with it, although she had decided to forego her usual public transportation for awhile. At least until she returned the vehicle. Traffic was unpleasant, but not terrible. Everything promised to be a good day as Csilla pulled up to Central HQ at 8:15.

Oops. Nevermind... As soon as Csilla arrived, she was pulled aside. Fort Briggs had been attacked and Spade had gotten clearance to mobilize Central HQ for war. Yeah, definitely not a good day after all. Csilla disappeared into her office, pouring over the defense plans for Central, occasionally standing to stare at the map of Central City on her wall. Sometimes she really disliked being the Head of Defense... mostly in the instances when she had to implement the defense plans that had so been painstakingly put together. She was really hoping that all of the plans and preparation was just for safety precautions. Briggs was powerful... they could stop anything. Right?

No. Not right. Csilla had stopped by to visit Spade as the five o'clock news chimed on. She watched on the TV as whispers of evacuation in London came down to explosions and the knowledge that Lord Dietrich had been taken. Her eyes widened and as soon as she could escape, she did. She returned to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. She sunk into her chair, burying her head in her hands. If Lord Dietrich had been taken, then something in his protection detail had gone horribly wrong! She had no idea if Elastor had survived when going to protect his sister... maybe Dietrich was captured because Elastor was no longer there to protect him? Or maybe he had survived the first time but now... maybe something had happened? NO! Csilla slammed her fist onto her desk and emitted a very un-Csilla-like growl. He was fine, by Hades! The growl quickly turned into a mild squeal as her fist began to throb. She grimaced and shook her head. “Oops.”

The meeting later in the evening with Chancellor Reinhardt had gone well. The defense plans for Central that she had pulled were approved and an evacuation of Central was suggested and approved. Great. More work. Csilla returned to her office to grab her evacuation packet; something to save for a rainy day. She pulled rank and grabbed a contingent of men before going out into the city. Word would need to be spread about the evacuation and she needed to speak with the local police about directing traffic. Both luckily and unfortunately, the people of Central were strong because hardship had come before; they were not going to panic and fall apart.

Csilla was out most of the night, hearing via text message that Xing had also been attacked. She prayed for the safety of their allies to Athena and whispered a fervent hope to Ares to help Briggs triumph. The evacuation was safely underway and half the city was rolling down to South when Csilla returned to her office in the early hours of the morning. She grabbed at the blanket thrown across the back of her chair and sighed. She didn't expect to catch much sleep, because when the sunrise came, preparations would continue. It definitely seemed that RIOTE was heading their way. She sighed heavily and curled up in her overstuffed chair in the corner of her office. Good night Central, good morning war.

Ooowaaaaahhh!!! Shokolat had never been in such a big place before! She had heard tales of Central while she had been in Gelemorte and South City, but she had never imagined it would be like this! Even amongst the reconstruction after the last war with Creta which hadn't been that long ago, she could still practically see its grandeur that it used to possess. She was lacking in a military uniform, but she was wearing her usual gothic lolita styled clothes. She readjusted the bow in her white hair as her wings were allowed to extend a bit behind her, her violet eyes glittering as she looked aaaaall about her. This was the heart of the wizards nation, the one place in the world that she might be able to find someone to help her in her quest. She thought she had come so close in South City, but that Bronze fellow was only what he called an "alchemist." And he was actually a fellow Gelemortian! What were the odds of that happening huh? Apparently people traveled more than she had thought! It just seemed to take so long for her to be able to travel to this country that she never really thought about how easy it really was.

But this was all besides the point. She was getting too distracted by her wonderment at finally being here. Maybe... just maybe she would be able to return home to her papa after this! No, no that was wrong. Her boots thudded on the pavement as she strode towards Central HQ with renewed purpose as she reminded herself why she had made this particular trip from South where she had been staying with Sec. He really was such a gentleman! No, focus! She was here to offer her aid. She was the Head of Intelligence after all in Gelemorte. Though... Some of the reports she had seen were troubling to her. Apparently her home had a war with Esparia! For being such an important role, Shokolat felt awfully inadequate for her job. Had it really been wise for Wolfy to assign it to her? She was just some doll who worked with information before. A nobody. An incomplete doll at that. Oh papa....

NO. FOCUS. She shook her head mostly towards herself as she tucked her wings in tight to her body, seemingly oblivious to the stares she was receiving from militants and civilians alike who were rushing about. A lot of the army folk seemed to be in a mad rush to get to Central HQ and she couldn't help but wonder why. Her magical fairy box vibrated in the pocket of her dress making her startle before pulling it out clumsily. She read the text that came through to her, her brows beginning to furrow at what she saw there. Briggs had been attacked? By RIOTE? Was this RIOTE group also responsible for the war between Gele and Esparia? Or was it an unrelated note? She knew that Wolfy and Vasco didn't really get along but... would they have done that? There were too many unknown factors here for her to be absolutely positive of anything. Her fingers moved quickly across the surface to respond to her subordinate back home, slowing to a stop a few steps outside the entrance to Central HQ. Thank you. Please send me all the information you can! With the text sent, she looked up at the doors and took a quick calming breath. This was it.

She had some difficulty managing a single person door since her wings took up so much space, the feathers stretching upwards and back so that she could slip through. Hurrying off to the side, Shokolat was surprised to see so much movement at this time of the day even though given the text she had received, she shouldn't be. Another text came in from home which she blanched to read. Aiya! So much had been happening in the world! Creta had also been attacked, Xing was retreating from Aerugo.... She really was terrible at her job. Biting her lower lip, she switched from reading her texts to her emails, looking over the bullet points that had been sent to her. None of it was good, and none of it settled her nerves at all. What in the world could she do? Gelemorte was in no state to offer aid and they were too far away anyways. No, she alone had to do something. "Hey! Lady!" Shokolat jumped as a figure was suddenly barking at her, almost dropping her phone as her wings drew close about her. A man was standing in front of her looking so very cross as he examined her. "What is your business here? We don't have time to babysit." He snapped at her, his presence overwhelming to her in her current state.

She couldn't back down. Not now. So Shokolat stood up a bit straighter and slid her phone into her pocket, her expression shifting from one of slight fear to one of control. "I am Captain Shokolat Anguissola, Head of Intelligence of the Gelemortian military. I am here to offer my aid and services. You do not need to "babysit" me sir." She responded cooly, suddenly seeming much older than she actually was. She was practically a baby amongst all these trained men and women. The man raised an eyebrow at this new information, but he could do nothing to deny her as she pulled out her badge to back up her words. He merely shifted uncomfortably and bowed his head in mild respect to her before glancing back towards the other doors in the room. "Whom should I speak to about this matter of my involvement? I realize you are busy dealing with the situation at Briggs and preparing should RIOTE strike here, but I wish to help in whatever way I can."

Someone called a name from across the room and the man straightened up, waving a hand to give him a moment. Turning his attention back to the strange woman in front of him, he jerked his thumb towards one of the doors behind them, "You'll have to find someone in charge." And with that he went off running leaving her very much alone. She waited until he was gone before she exhaled slowly, the mask of maturity fading from her features as she now looked around very lost. She did begin to walk in the direction that the man had pointed to, delving deeper into Central HQ. Soon enough, however, she got lost and ended up in what seemed to be the mess hall of the soldiers. You could taste the tension in the air and it weighed down heavily upon her since she was a foreigner, lost, her quest was going nowhere, she didn't look like a militant, and she could barely fight as it were. This was foolish of her, what in the world could she do amongst these folk? Her eyes settled upon a man and woman who were at one particular table, her head tilting as she took in their appearances. The man was clearly on a mission or preparing for one and the woman... Dear lord, was that a minigun?! Was that.... it couldn't be what she wielded, could it? M-maybe she should try speaking to someone else..... NO! No she had to talk to someone and they seemed to at least be not rushing around for the moment.

So with some quick steps, she hesitantly approached from behind the woman, clearing her throat to announce her presence. "Please excuse me, I know you are all very busy what with the news about Briggs, but I must ask a couple of questions. I am Captain Shokolat Anguissola, Head of Intelligence in Gelemorte. I am here to offer my assistance in this war. Who would I speak to about this?" Oh god this was probably a terrible idea....

Utter defeat. It was laced with the smell of various chemicals, bright lights, and soft whispers looming above a flat slate with sheets over it and wheels beneath. Hardly could it be called a bed. Certainly, they had the reserves to buy better mattresses, and yet the thought itself was something that he couldn't care less about. He wasn't here for luxury; he was here to survive. Slowly, a sea of icy blue was revealed, pupils shrinking to nothing. A flurry of activity followed, but he was already transgressing through memory. Foggy recollection reminded him that they had failed--reminded him that they were running. He hit a wall. His sword was gone. Right now, something was pressing against his head, flashlights sailing over his lustrous sight. "Concussion," they were saying, but everything else was a blur. Faces sifted past, the sounds of blades gripping the air with each mile further from their captured King. His hands clutched the sides of the bed, pulling himself clumsily against the wall where his head slightly lolled. A string of soft curses were mouthed from his chapped lips, his eyes struggling to focus on an approaching figure. "Hey," the figure began with concern, leaning straight through the designated comfort zone. Elastor Ito attempted to lunge backwards, instead pressing himself tighter against the cold wall of the carrier. "Woah, woah relax it's Mark from the other team. You've been heavily poisoned." He reached forward to touch the bloodied bandages wrapped around the Royal Guard's head. He didn't move. "Your head's really taken a beating, Ela my man. I don't know what happened, but hell you've got a concussion and an unidentifiable poison in your system. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Since when can you count, Robinson," Ela hissed, readjusting himself on the bed to try and stand.

"Hahaha, glad to see the attack hasn't changed you."

"How long?"

"Until we land or that you've been drooling on the pillow?"

"..."

"It's been a few hours. We circled around London for a bit, collecting soldiers, and trying to track the limo... You know the drill. We lost them at the Amestrian border. We think they are headed toward Central. Xing surrendered. I don't know what is going on here, but--"

"And the others?"

"Lotta casualties, but the group with you miraculously survived. We were worried about you for a bit back there. Your pulse was haywire, man. But seriously, how many fingers?"

"Four."

"Two."

"...I'm still going."

"I know."

The airship touched down some twenty-seven minutes after Mark Robinson filled the redhead in on more of what he missed. The girl--the girl on the bench in the rain, Deity Silver, had dragged him to the ship in a heap. He was pumped full of enough painkillers not to notice, but his skull was nearly fractured, the skin on his forehead torn and bleeding from where he connected with the alchemic wall which had sprung up from the floor. A unique and unidentifiable poison had seeped into his body via the air, was not fatal, but caused internal bleeding that when excessive and overexerted could lead to death. No cure. He sat staring at the opposing wall while absorbing this information, trying to see through the blur of drugs and shock. When he finally summoned the strength to stand, an intense pain writhed through him, causing Ela to turn and cough hard. Blood laced between his fingertips, his eyes growing wide in realization. Overexertion. All he did was stand up. Mark rushed over, a slurry of words rushing out, a grip on his shoulders telling him to take deep breaths. He stared at his hands until a wet towel was thrown over them, stared at them clean until his chin was lifted and he was told to look the speaker in the face. Still, his unfocused gaze went beyond sight. He realized he was sitting down, felt something cold on his chest. Lights, again, were shined into his eyes, his breathing static and uneven. They kept trying to get his attention, but all he could think about was trying to keep it from his older sister. Anouk...

Eventually, he lifted his gaze and glared directly into the doctor's haphazard expression. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark run a hand across his brow in relief. Ela pushed past the two men to his feet and remastered walking in a straight line right out of the medical section of the aircraft through the protests and through the fear.

Various people milled around him, piling off the carrier and onto the beach to regroup. Tents were already erected, uniformed men speaking in hushed tones with serious looks on their faces. Eventually, the ship was entirely empty, and in the mess of frenzied soldiers, Elastor found that girl. Loose hair the color of straw lifted in the sea breeze, Deity's eyes downcast, distraught. Her body language spoke levels that her voice did not, an unsure air filling the distance around her. He approached slowly by his standards, tapping her on the shoulder to gather those eyes into his own.

"Thank you," he said simply, his voice vacant of emotion. "No one else would have made the call. You saved many lives including my own." He looked to the side, visibly uncomfortable with anything even nearly sentimental. As a trickle of blood slid out from the bandages and down the side of his face, he pulled the speaker of his radio to his lips. "Gather a team together; we're going after them." No hesitation. No question. No time. Those that agreed instantly went about preparations, filing the tank of the airship, and packing it with weapons. Others looked at each other in terror. "I need a sword." Ela's eyes met Mark's hastily through the crowd. The uneasy man let pass a smirk and tossed him a long box.

"Good thing we raided your locker."


He watched the sunrise--couldn't remember when a blanket was placed around his shoulders. The tide came closer and then went away. Drifting in and out of sleep, he dreamed of a blond girl with eyes the color of rusted steel. Her voice in his head made him realize that the sun was now high in the sky. He woke with a start, flinging the blanket off and going for his sw--box. No one was around. A faraway buzz of the news was heard, feet shuffling through sand, a few yells here and there, grunts from lifting cargo. Ela shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath of salty air, opening them just in time to see yet another wave crash ashore.


(POSTING ORDER: Hans > Central (I suggest giving an entire time lapse of the waiting period like I did) > Cretan Militants (only those coming to save Dietrich) > Vanity > Aurel > Vanity > RIOTE (Start the attack) > Central > Free for all of RIOTE and Central > Aurel > Dietrich > Xan > RIOTE (Start the civil war) > Xingese Militants, Aerugese Militants, Esparian Dudes, Gelemortian Militants, Fort Briggs, and Central free for all
^If it doesn't say free for all, you only post ONCE.]

Whilst the poison had been coursing through Elastor's veins and corrupting just about everything it could, hitting the Royal Guard as hard as it could, as luck would have it, that same poison was working its way into the body of one Zen Howler, investigator extraordinaire.

Perhaps it was the fact that Zen had inhaled less of the Sekretar's noxious fumes than his comrade, and perhaps it was the fact that the renowned Howler auto-immune system had kicked in just when the oblivious, dormant detective needed it most, or perhaps it was just sheer luck, but the work-suit-garbed Internal Affairs officer awoke feeling sluggish, but faring much better than his Royal Guard comrade was a few rooms over.

His hand immediately went for a glass of fresh, cold water at the stand by his bed, Zen eagerly taking long glugs of the liquid to soothe his parched, barren throat, and to wash away the foul taste in his mouth. How long had he been sleeping? Fuck it, he didn't want to know. The detective ran hands through his knotted mop of off-green brown hair, and patted himself down, checking for the usual. Cards, pistol, a few files, his new alchemy gloves, pouch of dice, wallet feeling strangely light, lighter, cigarettes- CIGARETTES. Paydirt. Drawing the pack of Marlboros from his pocket and meticulously extracting a single one, setting it upon his mouth, and grasping for his lighter, Zen sparked up immediately and inhaled. Fuck rules and regulations about naked flames and cigarettes in military establishments. He'd just taken a fucking beating.

"My fukken' head..." Zen said, massaging his temples as thoroughly as he could, before trying to shake it away, and standing up, doing the usual stretches, gyrating his shoulders, putting excessive weight on each leg to make sure they weren't broken... he appeared to be, aside from a few cuts and bruises, and a hangover that felt like he'd gone three rounds with Mike Tyson, in working order, more or less. What was the next port of call? Shit... Zen tried desperately to remember the night's events, until- Ela. "Shit!" The man cursed, taking a drag from the cigarette and puffing out, before stepping off of his gurney and looking for the auburn-haired Royal Guard, left-to-right, as quickly as he could.

Perusing around the campsite for a few minutes showed quickly that his task wasn't exactly one of momentous effort, as Elastor was up, walking around, and presumably leaving a trail of blood wherever he went. The guy had taken a beating, and as long as the pole up his ass was, he was Zen's only friend in the military. Sure, Deity was his subordinate, but she resented him. Oh, like hell did she resent him. Elastor was the first port of call.

Following the trail of blood was a little more difficult once Zen realised it was non-existent, but following his gut and the stench of hospital bed, iodine, and painkillers lead to something a little more concrete. The airship had long-since touched down, and he was in some sort of medical tent, and the room felt like Elastor had been here. Zen had probably groggily and drunkenly opened his eyes to see the man, and just fallen back asleep; either that, or he'd been hallucinating. Then came the crackle of his radio, and Elastor's voice over two channels. "Gather a team together; we're going after them." A smirk; the detective could hear the Guard both nearby and over the comms device pinned to his lapel in an impromptu attempt to organise the brunt of Creta's rescue forces.

Ela was walking, talking, and making attempts to organise a rescue effort for Dietrich. Zen didn't see why; there was probably someone in line for succession, but, then again, the guy was sort of the monarch and military leader of the whole shindig here, so some effort was probably necessary. The guy was buzzing around, that busy little soldier drone he'd always been; Zen wasn't feeling like getting promptly brushed past and shaken off for something more important, so, instead, for now, he slumped against the side of a tent nearby, sighed, and finished up his cigarette, and then another two crumpled sticks in the packet, leaving only an additional couple left.


Feet on sand and cargo piling aboard the ships aside, Zen had found himself some peace and quiet, and his headache had long-since subsided. He watched Elastor stir in his sleep and lash out with a box, and from atop a dune far enough away, he took a final drag of his cigarette, and flicked it off into the sand. "Whoa..." Zen began to feel like his balance was going... and then it actually did. His knees buckled below him, and he tripped, carving a trench through the beach as gravity carried him down, the Newtonian force his magic carpet lowering him to the Royal Guard's position before he finally ground to a halt.

Hoping that the man wouldn't skewer him out of instinct or irritation, Zen lit up another cigarette, and took that first, fresh draw of it, sighing, and turning to his side, rubbing the back of his own neck with a grimy hand. "Ya' look like hammered shit, Ela," The investigator muttered quietly, before leaning back, suspending himself above the sand, back arched, with both hands out to the side, and wondering what Morgana was getting up to. Despite his being oblivious and tactless... even Zen could tell when maybe a spot of silence was long-overdue.

Guilt. It ate at her. Those eyes that stole into her very soul. Secretly, she gave a shiver. Those eyes spoke nightmares to her, even on a day where she hadn't slept. Behind her eyelids they stared into her being; piercing that ice exterior and hitting her straight in the heart. Those eyes. They would haunt her for probably forever. Of course it wasn't as if she accomplished anything. She shot AT him but somehow.. it didn't land. She grated her mind, as if trying to piece together where she went wrong. Her eyes dipped and a crestfallen woman sat in her seat, staring outside at the world. By herself, as usual. No one cared, she was invisible. Her words only heard and manifested as if by a ghost. Yes, a ghost of a captain had given the all, not an actual person.

Hours passed and the helicopter continued the voyage. The sound of its blades whipping through the air. It seemed forever that the helicopter finished its descent. Deity didn't bother speaking to anyone. They were all mad at her. They probably hated her for being such a bossy coward. A hand pressed gently to her chest and softly she tried to take a breath. She'd don nothing but run. They lost their leader because she was afraid... too afraid to risk being a martyr. Logically it should have made sense, but her mind was in such a frizzled state that logic was gone. For then, all she felt is regret and BOY did it hurt. Uselessness, weakness. She was weak. Her hands clawed indiscreetly at her arms and softly she felt a sob escape her throat. What was this pain? Make it go away. The knife sharpened and dug deeper.

Where was that escape? Out of reach. She was stronger than it, wasn't she? A voice in her head racked her brain, 'You are so weak.. you deserve to bleed.' Her heartbeat hastened and her stomach clenched. 'Do it, it will help.' It seemed for a second her judgement faltered and she pulled free her knife from her purse. The shining metal. Her hand moved elegantly to trace the skin. 'You can't wait.. it needs to be done.' Just as the tip had traced those forever scarred wrists, she heard footsteps. Nearly jumping out of her skin, the knife fell from its target. The blade pressed firm to the other arm, hidden from view. Deity hid the pain well, so she thought and turned to face the man. The man from the rain.. the man she'd dragged back to safety.

She seemed confused, looking around to see if he was speaking to someone else, but no one else was around. This was.. not right. How could anyone see an invisible woman as her? His eyes were kind to her only a flicker of emotion. Eyes like hers, that held an unspoken pain. Words weaved and were spoken. "Thank you," he had said. Those words were- What-? Deity was bamboozled. Words were at a loss. Her tongue could form nothing and her throat went dry. "No one else would have made the call. You saved many lives including my own." This.. wasn't happening. Her heartbeat faltered. Mind racing, she couldn't help but feel as if she'd run a marathon.

Why couldn't she breathe? She could only manage a nod as she swallowed the pain. It was smothering her lungs, sitting like a rock on her stomach. "Gather a team together; we're going after them." She watched him, wordless as she went to speak but nothing, not even air escaped her throat. He then spoke to a man she didn't know. "I need a sword." The other man tossed him a box and like that.. he was gone.

Deity was unsure of anything. Dropping her knife on the ground, she fell to the floor soon after. Tears pouring down her face; at first slowly, but then more rapidly. Her hand pressed to her eyes. Emotion, how had it escaped the cold prison that was her heart? The tentacles ripped through, grasping her and choking her. She couldn't breathe, gagged and struggled down another sob. Tears.. how long had it been? So many, her face felt drenched and over heated. No one came after, but still.. if only for a moment, she wasn't invisible to the world. Was it happiness or sorrow? She didn't even know.

One her ten good minutes of crying were done, she pulled herself up and hesitated. Where did she go from there? Her people were hurt, she was somehow unharmed unlike others and they were going back. Into the den of lions. At that moment she felt a tinge of pride. Locking away the emotions, her hands moved to sweep her hair into a more manageable way. Her eyes sort of lost on where he had been, "You would have done the same," she whispered to no one. Her hand hesitating and taking the knife, stained crimson and one again sheathed inside her purse. With that, she turned and left the room.

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

Upon arriving to shore, Deity tried calling other Cretan members, but her cell was still on the frits and fried out, making her grunt something of a curse to the useless device. Her hand threw it back into her purse and she looked around, praying for a payphone. The only one she could see had the phone detached from the wire, which meant it wouldn't work. Walking a whole mile back, she slid into a bench and pinched the bridge of her nose. What could she do now? Her blue eyes of the see drifting a bit to the waves in the distance. What to do, now?

The memories of carefree runs through the see, playing in the sand with her sis-ter.. Amity... Deity's eyes dipped. The only person who may have understood was long sine disappeared. However she wouldn't dwell on that and sighed, bringing herself to find Elastor once again. Not attempting to annoy him. It seemed her annoying boss had gotten there and the two were shooting the breeze. She knew her boss disliked her but she got over it. She was used to bearing all the hate and glaring glances. Stepping her way up to him, she took a sideways glance at Zen, before turning back to Elastor. "My phone isn't working, so other than the radio call, it looks all that will help, is here." Her voice spoke seriously, before turning her view to the helicopter and motioning to the dunes all through the sand. A few people littered them like connect the dots.

Rebecca had kept her head down the entire time they had been in their air, catching some quick shut eye before the guilt overtook her. She did not dream as they swooped over London to try to pick up anymore people, or tried to take down the enemy that had stolen away Creta's king. She was not aware of the state her teammates were in for she wasn't even technically their "teammate." Dietrich had no control over the organization she was a part of, she did not report to his government or anything. She did not report to any government for that matter. The plane rocked as they began to descend towards the beach, her head raising as her eyes slowly opened, the ruby depths staring distantly at the floor. Although she did not report to the same person as the people around her, she still felt the weight of the failure just as much as they did.

"Good, you are awake. I have gathered your equipment from the site of the White House, and your bike is residing in its normal place at your base in Creta." Edi's voice washed through her ear and into her body, her head tilting back as she took a deep sigh. Edi was quiet for a moment, "You will get him back Rebecca." Heh, her AI was comforting her. Somewhere this counted as irony. "Thank you Edi. You can bet your hardware we will." She murmured softly as they touched down upon the beach. After that it was a flurry of motion as she helped the troops set up a camp and tend to those that needed it, Elastor being the one in worst shape amongst them all. She made a mental note that perhaps she should speak to Dietrich about giving his troops some suits that were similar to her own so that such gas attacks wouldn't be of too much concern for them. Especially considering the... specialness of their enemy.

While everyone was recovering in camp, Rebecca had moved off to the side and was helping with some of the tech, her fingers flying across a keyboard as people came up to her to ask her for input on how best to approach this and whatnot. In reality, it was because she had Edi and the Spectre's resources at her disposal, and they were appreciating the tech that she still had in her possession. She knew that Dietrich was in Central City, and she also knew that RIOTE would be striking there next. Xing had fallen, and Briggs was doing its best to repel the enemy forces. Where in the world were her other Spectre's? Why weren't they helping in this mission? Had something happened to them? The only other advantage that she had was that she had the most equipment (and her main base) in South City now, and so they were at least much closer. A grimace seemed plastered on her face as she answered question after question, trying her best to get info as quickly as she could to everyone that needed it. The medics tried to look her over, but she refused them for she did not need it. She wasn't harmed in the fight except for maybe getting the wind knocked out of her, and that was nothing. There were others that needed their attention much more than she did.

With a sigh she straightened up and nodded a farewell to the group she was with, having set them on an excellent path to start with. They could take it from here. Running a gloved hand through her hair, she sighed heavily and unzipped her suit a bit, allowing for a little more airflow as she walked away from the tent after picking up her helmet. "Are you sure that I should not come in person? I could offer my aid as well." Rebecca's grimace only grew as she just seemed tired, glancing as she caught sight of Elastor heading into one of the other tents to speak to someone. "No. You're body isn't fully ready for combat. You already ran a risk when you went and got my things. We need to run more tests on it, and I still need to adjust the alloy a little so its stronger. I also want to adjust the weather capabilities just in case." She rambled off in quiet Xingese, walking away from people towards the water, staring out at the waves that lapped gently at the shore. "I was running careful tests while I was out and about. I could at least carry-" "Edi, no. Consider also code Delta-Beta-Gamma-4-5." She snapped suddenly, not caring that it looked like she was talking to herself. There was silence for a moment as she turned back to examine their camp.

Elastor had come out to watch the water as well, but she paid him no mind, propping her helmet against her hip as she let her other hand rest on her hip. "Edi, am I understood?" "Yes. Copy that. I will maintain remote aid. Should I prep anything at the safehouse in Central for you?" Closing her eyes, she pictured what she had stored there, running a quick risk assessment before the sun pierced her eyes. The crimson depths swam with colors from the growing light, her lips tightening at the beauty that she saw. "No. I doubt I'll be able to get there in time. I should have enough things on me for the moment. Thank you. Stay safe in South you hear? I don't want to come back to a crater because you got over-zealous. Oh, and do keep an eye on the crew please." She swore that she heard the AI chuckle in her ear even as another voice reached her own. "Ya' look like hammered shit, Ela," Zen was here now. "Of course. I will not destroy too much should someone come looking. Consider it done. Be safe Tali Zorah." And with that the line went silent, The Engineer faintly smiling as she looked over to the two men on the beach. Deity had now joined them. It seemed as if they were oblivious to her which was just as well. She was a foreign entity amongst their ranks after all.

The sand shifted about her boots as she walked over to Zen and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to his ear, "Come on, le's ge' ready. Wanna be in tip top shape when we go save 'is 'ighness." Her voice was soft, gentle even as she strode back towards where the weapons were stored, giving Deity a quick nod before she left. She needed fresh clips and a temporary rifle if she wanted to be of any help to them aside from her hacking skills. She still had a few EMP grenades aside from some other gadgets in her belt, but she wanted to be prepared. Besides, Ela seemed like he wanted to be alone.

Pancake refused to wake up in the helicopter, much of his energy, adreneline and passion spent up. As of right now, he was much more content to laze around, almost comatose in his exhaustion. He only blearily woke up to get off the airship once it landed, before digging two of his arms into the ground and falling onto them, resting there and ignorant to the camp and all the people around him, the multitute of soldiers rushing from one end of camp to another on their orders, a well oiled machine of efficiency and order. Pancake despised places like this. They were the most boring part of being in every army he had worked for. He was a being of chaos, of violence, of rampaging brutality, of rage and sweat and blood and catharis, of the screaming and the terror and the blurred vision of the battlefield, the barfight and the scrap in the street.

So Pancake slept through the day, remaining in place. Being that the place he fell asleep in was an active helipad, many tried to move him from his resting place only to take a weary and lazy fist swung into their face, so they quickly learnt to ignore him and compensate for his positioning when moving vehicles. When he woke up finally, the night had already come. Only he and the patrolling guards were awake then, the myriad other soldiers getting their rest. Pancake himself stormed to the water's edge, stones falling under his feet with every stomp, until his boots were surrounded by the water, and he looked down to his reflection. It glared back with a troubled look.

Unlike the other Cretans, guilt was not on his mind, nor shame at Dietrich's kidnapping. Pancake didn't give one iota for the king, and he simply blamed the other people there for it anyway. What furrowed his brow like a weight sitting atop it was anger and rage.

Pancake had, in his mind's eye, well and truly been beat.

Someone shot him. Somebody shot him. Pancake didn't care, really. He'd been shot before. He had been shot and punched and stabbed and nearly killed more than once, but what made things different was that all of the Drachma force; the pale man who Pancake tore apart with his talons, the man in the cap who came seemingly out of nowhere, the Sekretar, all of them, were against Pancake and they walked away. They didn't even have a scratch he had caused on their cheeks. Not one. Even the man he killed simply healed and got right back up. Pancake's fingers coiled into hardened fists, before he plunged one right through his own reflection, grabbing a stone, and lifting it up. He looked ahead. In the water, on a sandbank, stood a very flimsy tree, its branches white, its leaves aged and falling, its roots visible. Pancake pulled his arm back and hurled the rock at the tree. It collided with the wood, bouncing off it pathetically and letting out an easy "thump". Pancake scowled, and threw another rock at the tree. Again, it bounced off.

Like Pancake was.

"Just... fucking... fall." He seethed, punctuating every word with a stone to the tree, each one bouncing away, the tree standing as if nothing had hit it. It stood in the midnight, taunting him. Teasing him. Pancake's teeth gritted as he let out a growl. In a fit of rage even he didn't expect, he charged to the tree. The water swilled around him, going from a shallow puddle to a depth that swallowed Pancake as he ran. Getting deeper, getting slower, going under and back up. He used his tentacles to push himself out of the water, and he came to the sandbank. The mud caused him to sink with every step, almost to waist height. He forced his leg forward every time, before his hands came to the tree. His fingers pulled him onto the largest root, before he began to shake at the old wood, splinters of bark falling away as it shook violently. All of his tendrils snapped around it, coiling around it and crushing the weak wood under it. Pancake growled. He literally pushed the White House over, this tree was not giving him trouble, he thought. He kept squeezing, causing parts of the tree to fall, but Pancake looked down at his own reflection.

It was a younger face than his own, the bones visible, the skin grey, the features riddled with weakness and illness. Pancake, in anger, tore part of the tree off and threw it at the water, dissapating the image.

"I AM THE STRONGEST!" He screamed; he screamed it to the world, to the Cretan forces, to the Drachman forces, and mostly to himself. He stopped to catch his breath, panting. His eyes looked back to the old tree. Or rather, where its remains were; a mess of splinters and a single stump was all that there was. Pancake took the time to look at his own handiwork, a grin coming to his face.

---

The sun rose, a golden shroud cast across the water to match the lemon-yellow sun as it glared in a red sky. It got ever higher in the sky, the sky turning to blue and the sun to white with a gradual pace. Elastor, Zen, Deity and a woman Pancake incorrectly knew as Morgana had begun to gather, a dejected collective misery all across them. The scene was quiet and peaceful. From another part of the beach came Pancake, looking like a stranger amongst them. He was soaking wet, his legs were black with mud, his left hand held a stump of a tree and his mouth was not making a quiet whisper but a constant bellow he repeated with every step of his approach.

"BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED BORED!" He shouted, making sure that everyone knew he was there, grabbing all the attention he could muster from the others. "I am BORED! I am done with this fucking waiting around! All we ever seem to do is wait! Why aren't we killing shit?!"

It says something about the situation when your so desperate you summon one heck of a diva. Reaver...Creta's wrath...the embodiment of rage that always seemed to chorus its primal rage throughout his skull sat drumming his fingers while he sipped his tea. A book in his lap with the title 'A 25 shades of Blue' was giving him quite a laugh at the poor deluded fantasy's of the common lonely housewife who was obviously of a desperate need of a long hard fuck. He was defiantly going to write his own erotic novel after this mess....yes it would be beautiful and defiantly not a rip of of one of Lust movies. He unlike the others on this flying metal cage did not feel quilt. He had not a single fuck to give about Dietrich's kidnapping. His mind was more preoccupied. The people who had him were none other the Riote and in turn his siblings Vanity and Lust....

Though strong he felt his primal urge to protect them. Maybe it was the old wrath's loyalty he didn't know nor did he care but he felt a duty as a gentleman to protect them. Curling his fingers into his holster pocket he pulled out a marvellous bullet. Twirling it in his eye sight a smile graced his dashing lips. Engraved in beautiful script was Aurel's name. Two more bullets twinned it and he couldn't help but chuckle softly. For the teapot...his coats....He personally wanted to present these beauties to Aurel....well more like his skull.

Placing it back the homunculus drained his tea placing the cup down looking over to his faithful butler. "Barry!" He barked causing the ginger to jump with a yelp. "Yes Master Weaver?" Two toned eyes focused and pleading a slight tremble of off coloured lips making Reaver almost feel the urgh to claim his servant again. "When we land...you are to set up a base...A warm cup of tea should be waiting for my return." He drawled resting his cheek against his palm with a bored expression. Not caring that the servant seemed uneasy. "Are you sure master? I can come with you if need be?" A bored wave of fingers silenced the servant as Reaver smirked. "I have never felt better Barry....you stay for after this I will want a nice cup of tea or a glass of wine..."

note to self...tell someone to put first class on this thing...


Reaver had forgotten how much he hated beaches.... It was just so.....urgh he couldn't even think of a word for this. He cocked his gun cane in hand as he looked round. Snapping his eyes to Barry who was already setting up camp he plucked his top hat from his head placing it on Barry's own. "If i find even one speck of dirt or one thread loose Barry i will have your hide...now stay here.." Grabbing the man’s collar he hissed in his ear so no other could hear. "Try and get contact with Vanity lust...heck even Xanthus! You tell them I am coming....and that I expect them to be at my manor after this mess for a drink!" He snarled slightly his eye throbbing with egar anticipation.

Regaining his posture he turned clapping his hands. "Now listen up and clearly my dear Duckies. I know your all crawling to save your king and such and i honestly don't care but I heed you a warning now. If I catch any of you as much as thinking of attacking Sekretar Alena or Tanandra Collier...." His expression darkened his eye on show as a clear warning. "I will shot you down before you can harm them." He clicked his tongue taking a step forward swinging his hip letting out a dark smile. "Oh and if you need a new king after this...I am quite willing to step up to the role." He chuckled softly. What simpletons.

The commotion had become all too much to bear willingly beneath the resonation of false tranquility. Small circles, faint in their appearance, lifted into the air, only to disperse against the tan celling which was the tent-top. Subtle sighs and exertions of breath long since passing as the entry into Taka’s personal quarters were infiltrated by the passing woman, garbed in nothing more than the sheet that once fitted his bed. Their night together was decent—her talents weren’t anything he hadn’t seen before and while she exited content beyond belief, he was rather, no modestly dissatisfied that the anonymous woman couldn’t keep up with the animalistic nature of the woman he met in his mother’s fatherland.

Sitting upright, though slightly slouched in some form of comfort, Isao, bare besides the towel that covered only the most mysterious places on his body, sat at his desk. Strong, chiseled features visible beneath beads of water and stream as he exited the shower not even ten minutes ago, the sexual entice who doubled as the Head of Creta’s Science division propped himself into a state of suspended concentration; neglecting the world around him to focus on the objective at hand, and this was dire.

Fingers dancing across a fine keyboard, digits pecking at a series of keys to formulate some type of encryption, the dark screen which resided just ahead lit anew. “Taka, Head of Science and Research, Watching Hawk 34589AB21.” His words, swift-moving and his tone rich with experience and confidence, the young man allowed his computer, elegant as it was beautifully designed to feed upon his structured sentence and allow his voice to license entry into the flies which he sought. As the red bar across his screen flashed green and opened a sequence of systematized documentations, four smaller screens parted in unison, news feeds and operative messages from his colleagues and superiors emerged; he processed everything with the ut-most ease.

“It can’t be…” Eyes once dull rising in surprise, the news he had attained startled even the normally calm Taka. Standing up, though not before punching a number of command and controls, the computer screen faded into back, its bright screen soon vanishing into darkness as he dressed himself.

RIOTE had finally made a move, and on an intercontinental scale. Kidnapping the King and threatening the world with War, its allies had banded together and panic was spread far and wide. It seemed everything had broken a stillness which was required for the continuance of man and now he, along with an elite team was requested to rescue the King. His skills were known in science and logistics, though his strong background in martial arts and infantry would serve purposeful, finally.

Stepping into the break of day, blonde locks illuminated in the day’s light, the activity of machinery and passing troops and officials had awakened the tired man. Having already sent word to the source of whoever asked him to aid in this affair, all he had to do now was wait. He would be contacted in time but for now, he had to prepared himself. Stepping back into his tent, fading from the outside world, Taka went to work.

It filled the air in the car, looming on her chest like a massive weight. Dietrich was passed out in the seat to her right and to her left was the man whose life was slipping away with every passing second. The world was at war and here they were sitting in silence heading to Amestris. The climax of this war was approaching and the outcome of whatever was ahead crept closer. She reaches over and fixes the king of Creta's suit jacket, buttoning up the loosen attire. Even if he was passed out in a deep sleep, it was still right for the leader to look his best. She kept telling herself that, to keep her mind from thinking about the man to her left. She couldn't look at him, not yet. She had to be strong, she had to be the Queen piece she was created to be. He was so handsome and was the first person to distract her vainglory side from wanting anything but him.


His soul was haunting hers and there was no remedy for the memory of his face in her head. Even when he wasn't around, she couldn't forget him. Vanity reaches out, intwining her fingers with his, who was currently fighting death. She had no choice but to stay strong, this plan was what was needed to happen in order for Chaos to breathe life. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath not wanting to wake up from this moment. His touch, even if it wasn't much was enough to send relief into her troubled dreams. She needed that security of his touch in this moment, and vice verse. She wanted him to know that she was going to be with him through the thick and thin. It was a love story for the new age, wining and dining, drinking and driving, excessive buying, overdosing, and dying. The lines were blurred, but reality was here in this war and she knew she had to be strong for him. Dark and lonely was what the world was created to be, but she didn't play by the rules. She wanted him to hold her, to rock her and say that everything was going to be okay. She sucks in a deep breath of air before looking over at him, squeezing his hand tightly for a second.


"I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side." Her voice was meek and tender. She closes her eyes before she looks up at the ceiling of the car. She felt it in the air and if he went tonight and never returned, she would miss him forever. This was just another way that made her a girl, she put love first. It was something she would die for. At times she felt on top of the world, like nothing could hurt her but times like this, she felt vulnerable and weak compared to the others. She looks around the car, briefly making contact with them. Their gazes were nothing like his and she soon found herself looking back up at his. Even if they weren't going to meet hers, she would still look up at his. She didn't' care if he saw a weakness in her eyes, she didn't want to lose another minute of seeing his features. Her lips were trembling, she so badly wanted to kiss him, but resisted with every fiber in her body and she looks back down at her lap and sits in the silence once again thinking about the situation at hand over.

"I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side." Through dank silence, a single sentence ruffled the crown, glistening in long waterfalls of azure blue. The clouds departed from the heated summer blacktop, evaporating the water--evaporating the stillness. His head was resting on the headrest, pools of red and blue lost and forlorn. Pupils thick with seeing, he closed his eyes and sat up straighter, feeling the ripples of pain draw back to whence they began. A shivering breath was taken, laced with so many feelings--so many regrets. What even was this life he had? He turned to see her, seeing everything there was to see he saw in himself. When his thoughts halted--when his memories faded away, would he still--? Hild, what is this for? You know, your dream was never meant to happen. Loving you was what killed you. The plan--the conductor teetering on the edge of the stage--caught between clapping and playing, was himself with a grim smile, knowing all the while the final measure.

"As am I," Aurel stated, a bitter smile crouched on his lips as he opened his eyes to see her the same. Their hands were clasped together again, but he was sure she wasn't trying to comfort him this time. Hild was already dispersed--Hild was already forgotten in her mind...but soon in his as well. His sight meandered to her lap where his glove still perched with his handwriting neatly scrawled in lipstick. For - Aurelius Carston Schwarz it read, Hild's last words endlessly ringing in his mind's ear. Was that enough--was that enough to know that this existence he led was just a shadow? No, not just a shadow, but resonant enough to effect people--to kill people--to change things. You won't be alone this time, he thought resolutely to himself, knowing that nothing he ever felt or thought would make any difference--knowing that everything he was would never reach everything he would be.

"However, there is no other side." He paused, staring absently at his hands, one with a glove, one without. "But you aren't thinking about that anyway." He looked up, meeting her eyes, ignoring Dietrich's fixed attire, forgetting anyone else was in the limousine. His expression was one he had never been seen wearing--something sad--something so distant it was already lost. Her eyes were filled with the same water as her hair, lips quivering not in fear--not in sadness, but in something else entirely. The castle was falling down, rumpled and dastardly, facing not the inevitable. No, there was nothing left to fight. He raised their hands together, pulling her towards him, unfaltering mismatched eyes tending to the very fabric of all they had built together. Hild had nothing to do with this. She should have never--I should have never...never loved her, realizing too late it was part of the plan--part of making it all work. "Let them fight," Aurel whispered in her ear, feeling his own silky breath tickle off her. "Let them fight and take no side. It will be for our victory in the end." His words had a smile in them, amused yet fortified with letting go. Those soft words dawned into a wispy hiss of reflection, nearly bridging to the darkness in his heart. It stopped. Everything stopped: the limousine reached their destination, regret and remorse no longer had a place, pain was forgotten, Vanity's mouth ceased quivering.

"Don't mourn me; fix what was lost." He thrust their lips together, kissing her harder than he ever kissed Hild. Black hair veiled around them, his body weight leaning into her as he moved over top, covering all that was Vanity in the fading essence of himself. He grew heavier and heavier, drawing away and into his seat once more at her left. With a deep sigh, his fingers caressed the door handle, leaving breaths of condensation to fog the shiny metal. His body grew laxer and laxer with the bane usually present--planned perfectly to be in the homunculus' lethal kiss. He opened the door, stumbling out and turning a wild look back to the car's occupants. This was the last time he'd see them. Slowly, Nyx followed him outside, going around the steaming limo to his side--always to his side despite--despite... Aurel met Daemon's eyes then Lust's, nodded, and shut the door with a quiet click. He wheeled around, barely capable of seeing a few feet in front of him, but he still saw Nyx there, petite with her small fitting of a smile. All the trust in the world was bestowed upon such a small creation, invested in each strand of murky green hair down to the very split ends of decision. He bent down, black-jeaned knees in the brown dust of drought, reaching his arms across her shoulders to pull her close and rest his chin on her shoulder.

"Aurel, what I was wondering was, what would happen if you fell into your black hole?"

"Would you miss me if I happened to fall inside of it?"

Aurelius smirked, taking in a deep breath of the smell of innocence. How she had predicted it was beyond him--how she had covered her question with a quick spur-of-the-moment genius was reason enough to call her his own. "It will still be me," he murmured quietly into her clothing, pulling away slowly to look at her with sweating eyes. "Hild, she..." His voice faltered slightly, his sight turning up to look into the sky. "She killed herself to keep me from killing myself...Her dream--her dream will come true, but...I--I, the me now is not going to be there to see it. It's as if I killed her..." But that was all part of the plan wasn't it? A sardonic laugh escaped his throat and he pulled away, falling back on his haunches and cackling at the sky. That was all a part of the plan, wasn't it, Aurel? He intended this from the very start: this anguish. It was the only thing--the only thing that made it truly logical...to kill himself now...after everything. "--killed her myself with," Aurel pulled out a gun with shaking fingers and dropped it to the ground at her feet, "with this gun...when I shot myself and lived, but now..." He hesitated, standing up and walking a few uneven steps in the direction of Central Head Quarters. "Now, I'm really going to die, Nyx." He turned around with a quaking smile, raven hair jutting out in the violent wind. Just as he finished his last words, he left, tattered boots tackling the sidewalk, infiltrating the tunnels of the building he had already destroyed once before. "But I'll be back only if you wait for me."


(POSTING ORDER: Hans > Central (I suggest giving an entire time lapse of the waiting period like I did) > Cretan Militants (only those coming to save Dietrich) > Vanity > Aurel > RIOTE (Start the attack) > Central > Free for all of RIOTE and Central > Aurel > Dietrich > Xan > RIOTE (Start the civil war) > Xingese Militants, Aerugese Militants, Esparian Dudes, Gelemortian Militants, Fort Briggs, and Central free for all
^If it doesn't say free for all, you only post ONCE.]

"I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side." The laments of a driver and a bodyguard are few. Regrets that your job was not done apropos. Regrets that your fare or quarry was damaged whilst you were on the job. Regrets of insubordination. But King was no usual driver, and no usual bodyguard. His laments numbered higher and higher with every waking moment. Grief struck him, watching in the wing-mirror as Aurelius drew close to Vanity. Closer still with every moment. Whispering in her ear. And he begged for it not to happen.

He ground the car to a halt before he even knew what was going on. And then he saw it; his lips pressed against hers in the vibrant reflective mirror. He wished so desperately to spin around and watch for himself; no synthetic surface could replicate the regret settling through his body. He was frozen, his body locked, his already-pale Gelemortian skin only getting whiter and whiter with every moment, his pallor as deathly as a ghost's. His stomach churned like the blades of a grinder, and it felt as if they were cutting open his innards just as much. Opening his mouth yielded nothing, no speech; so he clamped his lips back together as they locked theirs.

Click. Over as soon as it had started. King knew that kissing Vanity was a death-wish. He'd seen what her poisons had done to lesser men; perhaps he could resist it yet, but with his previous damages it would kill him eventually. Naught but the chimera and the actress sat in the car now, the young girl having already exited. No names were necessary within the hallowed halls of the homunculus' mind. Grief struck him as everything fell apart within those mirror-shards, an image etched into his memory as it shattered before his very eyes, all his hopes and dreams, all he'd ever wanted.

And from beneath that grief... stemmed anger. A hot, burning, paining hatred. The seething infernos of the Malebolge themselves within his very gut, rising through his body, grip tightening on the steering wheel. He kept hearing Jack's voice in his head, saying those four damning words over and over, despite his never hearing them before: "I told you so." And he should have. And would have, if King had ever confessed his other occupations. You play with a fire like Vanity? You get burned. And as invulnerable as King now was, this was a first-degree burn that even the most soothing salves wouldn't heal his skin.

The exhaust thrummed beneath him, hand still gripping the brake lever and trembling. He watched as he limped forwards, every movement painstaking, with the child and the traitor. And as much as he wished to ease the handle down, slam the accelerator, and run them down for every travesty he felt in his heart burning through, he couldn't. She'd kissed him on the cheek and stabbed him in the back, and he still couldn't kill the man responsible as much as he dearly wished to. He was weak.

The chromed push-button of the glove compartment glinted in the pale Amestrian morning light. An idea struck him, a lightning-bolt to quench the grief with revelation. His body was a typhoon of emotions he couldn't control, but the statement was there with glaring presence in his mind: the woman he had loved had settled for another. He'd never told her, so he was at fault. She never knew, so it couldn't have possibly been hers. And this entire thing was probably just a misunderstanding. But, King was damned if it didn't burn him up within.

Through gritted teeth he hissed in Drachman, a language he'd never wanted to learn. "Get out if you want to live." It was a simple enough statement; and sure enough, the chimera, the beast-man, obliged him, exiting swiftly, the door clicking once more. The actress swiftly followed suit, and in an instant, the car was entirely vacant, his hand on the limousine as he eased the handbrake back down and took the longest, deepest breath of his life.

One hand extended to the compartment and slammed the button with a trembling finger outstretched. From within fell out assorted manuals, clips of ammunition, and then his Shangri-La, his holy grail: petrol. The sweet smell of the vapours filled the car as he tapped the button on the dash to wind all the automated windows back up, shutting him in with nothing but the Amestrian July heat and the stench of fuel slowly filling the compartments.

With an outstretched hand, as slowly, and subtly as he could, King rose the jerry-can and unscrewed the cap. There was more than enough to make it convincing. Fire was a homunculus' worst enemy; it did nothing but devour, eat away at flesh and skin alike, and as you regenerated, it continued. It turned any sin's embodiment quickly into a modern tale of the Greek ancient who stole the flame, with the hawk being replaced with licks of a grand inferno in the modern yet so beautifully Promethean retelling. The cap dropped along the floor, and, swiftly, King rose the dented canister with one hand far above his head, and gently lowered it in a wreath around him.

A few liberal slugs of the liquid into the back compartments, and a few more into the passenger seat, slowly filling it up. There was around a quarter left by the time King rose it directly above his body, and tipped it down fully, letting the stench of gasoline overpower him as he sputtered for air, the fumes and liquids soaking and clogging his hair until he couldn't breathe.

When it was empty, King let the canister fall from his hands. The flame within him seemed not to be enough to set it all going. With a smile on his face, looking towards the congregation around Aurel now, the homunculus flicked a couple more switches, disengaging the traction he'd flicked on when they broke onto a very minor slope not a moment earlier. Quietly, slowly, and near-silently, the car began to creak back down the slope, moving at a snail's pace, King looking to the building behind him for a moment. Soon, it picked up enough momentum to roll onto flat ground and stop.

A cigarette in his mouth. His Zippo lighter in his hand. A grin upon his face.

She didn't understand.

First, he was acting so weird, and now he was kissing Miss Alena? But... But Nyx thought he was supposed to be kissing Hild? Wouldn't Hild be mad? Where was Hild... Why wasn't Hild here? This was RIOTE's moment of glory... Hild was missing it... Where was she...?

Nyx got out of the vehicle, and was then was reminded of before, in Aerugo. Yes... Back then, she'd had a question... For Aurel. Daemon could still hear... But she felt the urge to confide in Aurel now.

She moved around the limo, towards Aurel, wings gently fluttering in the warm summer's breeze. Her dress flowed in the winds, black as soot, and twinkling with sparkly homemade sequins, shards of glass crushed to teeny tiny bits and fixed to the dress with some form of glue. Nyx thought it was pretty, it was well-suited for her missions. Formality, like all the adults partook in when the situation arose. She walked towards Aurel, and opened her mouth, words rolling from her tongue, not yet given breath, as her brilliant eyes of chartreuse beryl locked onto the man who gave her life when she was lifeless, purpose when without, hope when she'd been hopeless.

And he knelt down. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer. Nyx didn't question it; she never questioned Aurel's actions. Well, only one. The words reformed on her lips and her mouth slowly opened, but promptly closed.


Hild was dead...

Hild was... Dead?

Hild was dead?

No...

No, no, that couldn't be right. Nyx frowned. No, Hild wasn't... Maybe he didn't say dead. Yeah, that's it, he didn't mean to say she was dead. She was... What sounded like dead?

But no... No, he added to it, much to Nyx's confusion, shock, and horror. Details, unwanted details. Hild... She... She killed herself? But... But... No, no she didn't... Aurel was... He was just... Nyx wanted to cry.

She just wanted to cry, right there, right in front of Aurel. She wanted to, but she didn't want to, but she needed to, but she just couldn't... Tears couldn't flow. She had to manually inhale and exhale, as she noticed a certain dizziness, a light-headed feeling she didn't like; her breath had caught in her throat.

But her death wasn't in vain apparently. Aurel had yet again given Nyx some small, microscopic, imitation of hope. Her death had been for Aurel's life. Then his guilt came, Aurel's admissions to having killed Hild by an attempt on his own life. It hit her like a pound of lead, and she was truly about to burst in tears, but they just. Wouldn't. Come...

But it didn't stop. Why? Why did he have to keep talking? It was all part of his master plan, the same one they always followed. And thus far it's all come true. And Aurel never lied, so...

He really was going to die.

Tears really flowed now. Had she been told by Aurel to cry him a river, it would have been a successful mission, because on weakened knees, she fell, wings limp, and deadened, as emerald eyes flooded, sending the last call for Noah's Ark's passengers. The world hadn't ended... But her world just did. She barely noticed the dramatic increase in wind, as her greenish teal hair blew to the side, a final touch to the melancholy scene. Insult to injury, it seemed... But as Aurel moved away, he turned back with a smile. And what he said next sparked new light in her eyes.

Only if she waited for him...

He'd be back...

He'd be back... Only if she waited for him...

Unable to form words, she nodded back to him, before shakily rising, and unsure of what to do now, whether he wanted her to follow or not, she looked to Daemon for some form of guidance, before looking back at Aurel... Should she stay, or should she go...?

Well this was fucking boring.

Picking leftover bits of human from between his teeth using a tapered fingernail in place of a pick, with bloodshot eyes, the sleepless and bloodlust-fuelled Balthazar swept the city over from side to side with his waking open pale grey glare. It was morning yet, but their convoy was no more and no less than five vehicles in entirety, each of them stacked with six men, save for the flagship of it all; his own vehicle. Driven by the Private in front, there were only four black-clad commandos amongst them. Them being Balthazar, and his cherished, beautiful younger sibling, Eris herself, the goddess of strife.

Somewhere in the wreckage of Xing had laid Ogihci Masu, and Hei Jin. He hadn't waited up for them when he'd departed; if they were amongst the convoy now, then that was only through feats of their own. Balthazar held no ideals of camaraderie. If you want to survive? Do it your fucking self. Rolling through the abandoned main streets of Amestris' promptly-evacuated finest city, Balthazar spat to the side, winding up the window, and smashing the sunroof above him with the butt of one revolver, slipping through and drawing shallow crimson cuts all down his midriff as he snarled out over the midday sun.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF AMESTRIS," His voice was guttural, primal, animalistic... with a harrowing undertone of hunger as he bellowed and growled. "THE TIME OF YOUR RECKONING IS NIGH," Placing the butt of his weapon in his mouth, Balthazar swatted away most of the glass, and pulled his frame up through the car with as much effort, before sitting atop the canopy with a grin, and grasping the hand cannon firmly, continuing his shouts with one hand poised, middle finger and thumb barely inches from each other. "BEFORE THE SUN SETS, EVERY SOLDIER IN THIS PATHETIC CITY WHO DARE RESIST WILL MEET THEIR END BEFORE ME AND MY ILK," One pad of one digit touched against another as a grey gaze pierced the fog-lit Amestrian morning and hovered over a single window of an apartment block. The room was bathed in flickering orange light. A shoddy television was on, not enough time to switch it off in evacuation. Children's toys scattered around. A bloody smirk drew wider and wider on Tartarus' face. Destruction for the sake of it.

SNAP. Fingers whacked against each other with tenacious strength; for a moment, naught happened but the crackle of red electricity surging through the blonde terrorist's body from his very core, but a split-second later, the air was awry and crackling with energy as the brickwork of the apartment burst forth from the walls in a fountain-like eruption, an explosion of rubble, grit, and already-shredded body parts were flung in every direction courtesy of Ruin's Finger. CRASH. It was as if an IED had gone off within the apartment on his very command and blasted the entire room - and the three adjacent in every direction around it - into nothingness; but there were no flames. Just the invisible silence where shrieks of civilians should have been, the tension in the air, the clatter of shattered stone against the ground.

"I AM TARTARUS," The convoy ground to a halt as if on signal. Something swelled and contorted beneath Balthazar and he felt pain ripple through his body once more; glorious, crimson, debilitating pain. He could only howl the last of his message as doors opened in a mechanical and hydraulic symphony and a platoon of an odd thirty black-clad RIOTE commandos, veterans of Xing's fall, exited swiftly, grasping AK-102 rifles and PP-19 Bizon sub-machine guns in their gloved, callous hands. Before long the pop-pop-pop of rifle fire and the crack-crack-crack of SMG bursts filled the air in glorious rhapsody, and Balthazar fell forwards, scrabbling at the ground as that same agony he'd felt only hours ago surged and coursed back through him, availing him a single scream before the dust around him cleared, revealing the beast's true form in its entirety. Contorted, accented Amestrian. "AND ALL OF AMESTRIS WILL BOW TO MY WRATH," Whatever soldiers would there could meet their doom today.

From within the clouds of grit and gunsmoke the chimera leapt, the Philosopher's Stone at his core only availing him further as he leapt to scrabble at the apartment's remains once more, using shattered brick and crumbling mortar as footing as he ascended quickly. If there was nowhere to climb, he'd snap his fingers and blow out parts of the wall to make holes or ridges he could pull himself onto. Snarling with a low, guttural thrum, before long, the beast that had once been Balthazar pulled himself atop the wreckage of this evacuated apartment building and beat blackened, armoured fists against his blackened, armoured chest, diluted-yellow spines forged from keratin of locks of hair flailing and standing pinpoint upwards as he did so. "GRAAAAAAAAAGH!" Came the howl for good measure. The howl of a signal. The howl to begin the attack. To commence the invasion. A single, echoing, horrifying shriek of unity for all RIOTE troops, all sleepers, all members, all leaders across the board.

The time had come.

Well, it seemed to have begun. The attack on the so called "fascist". It didn't matter to him whatsoever. A fight was a fight, and sitting at the desk for so long made him sloppy. Since when was the last time he got to enjoy himself and get some exercise? He didn't really agree with RIOTE's principals to the letter, but they gave him a job, and that's all he cared for. He would check his gear, making sure his blades weren't dull, and his M1911A1 clean and fully loaded. He had found himself in the Eastern district, doing some recon. Sitting upon a building, his ears suddenly awoke to the sound of gunfire. Gunfire from all different kinds of weaponry. There was no point in recon anymore. It was time for what he really needed to do.Kill The Grid

Without power, Amestris would have a hard time fighting back. He had done solo runs before, but not on such a grand scale. His Division was probably off somewhere else. Looking through his binoculars, he could see the station about a mile and a half from his current location. He had taken refuge in an old apartment building, as he brought less attention to himself. Situating his gear, he made his way to the fire escape. Easing down the metal frame, he gently made contact with the ground. As he began to walk out of the alley, his head cocked to the right.SHIT!

bounding back into the alley, he sighed. Had it been this long? He had almost walked out in front of a squad of Amestian infantry. He would have to find another way around. He went back into the alley as he paced a bit, his thoughts rambling on. His eyes were locked on to a loose grate that was in the middle of the alley.Perfect. Grabbing the grate, he slid it to the side quietly, as to not get shot by the GIs on the other end of the street. He would prep his flashlight for use, as he leapt into the blackness.

Landing with a small thud that echoed down the damp tunnel, his nose wrinkled. It was musty down here. This must have been one of the drainage tunnels that ran under the city. From down here in the quiet, he could here all kinds of muffled noises from the surface. As he readied his flashlight, he scanned his surroundings, finding himself alone with a rat or two. Drawing his pistol, he proceeded to make his way down the tunnel. He was glad the tunnels had a directory for the maintenance workers down here, as he didn't need to guess and check. That would take hours, and he barely had minutes. Footsteps echoing with every step he took, he kept following the arrows that read "power substation" for what seemed like an hour. Bounding around the corner, he spotted a single door, illuminated by a single yellow light. Someone had to be on watch here. Turning off his flashlight, he would draw his wakizashi and ready himself Bracing himself against the wall to the side of the door in the direction the door would swing, he gave three knocks on the door. After a small silence, he could hear what appeared to be two men discussing what they would do after their tour of duty. Figures..

As the door swung open, he remained still. Two men, armed with automatic rifles, exited, and started to search. As he holstered his pistol, he reached onto his back to draw what appeared to be a retractable pole arm. Pressing a button on the side, it would extend to a much favorable length. As the two men began to slowly search down the tunnel, he crept behind them as he slowly took the naginata in a reverse grip. He would have to try something new. He would cock his arm back as he thrusted the naginata with quite force, as he began to sprint towards the two. The man on the left was swiftly impaled, the paranoid soldier turning to see Silas inches away, but it was too late for the GI. The wakizashi he held was already deep in the soldier's stomach. Withdrawing it from the man's body, he proceeded to gather his naginata and retract it, placing it on his back. He would sheathe the wakizashi as the two soldiers were giving off their dying breaths. Entering the facility, he quietly closed the door.

As he proceeded up the corridor steps, he could hear soldiers. Quite a bit of them. Stopping before the door, he placed a finger to his ear, beginning to speak.

"This is Silas. Begin the assault on the station."

Sighing as he drew his pistol, he started to hear isolated gunfire at the edge of the compound. This would at least provide him some time to find the controls. Opening the door, he appeared to be on a cat walk as he saw a single overwatch who stayed behind. Without stopping, he was a few feet from the overwatch when the soldier drew a pistol at him. He would knock the soldier's hand aside, as he swiftly pushed the man over the catwalk, as he could hear what sounded like the man breaking his neck. There was no time to stop. He he continued his way through the facility, eliminating those who needed to be, he found himself at the generator core. There were five miniature cores which allow the electricity to flow. Grabbing the handles, he began to twist, and pull the cores out of their ports. A All of a sudden, the room his was in shut off. Silence. Dark. He looked at the core as he smiled some.

"Thanks for the fun, Amestris. You sure kept me entertained."

He would eventually make his way through the tunnels again, as he exited the grate. Looking out from the street, he sighed. The neon signs in the shop had died out. Looks like it had worked, and this would be able to help the troops elsewhere. He would now have to awaited further orders..

The car ride from London through Amestris and into their beloved capitol was nearly silent and oddly unhindered, the air heavy, thick with the unknown beyond what was at hand, and infinite questions. Golden eyes stared out the limo's window distantly, cool and uncaring as her mind worked to try and fit the pieces of a puzzle together where she didn't know what the great picture was, how big it was, or just how they all fit together. A puzzle with no edge pieces or guidelines, blindfolded as you worked the picture, and the shapes of the pieces constantly changing to refit themselves. As they sat in the silence, Lord Dietrich blissfully submerged into the velvet darkness and Aurel quiet at Vanity's side, Tanandra found herself surprised. She'd been wrong in her first guess about Vanity's role in this. She knew that her own assertations about the role of the Queen, the piece's limitations, and her expendability in the strategy initially presented had been correct; however, how they applied to the distant beauty were rather different, and that had been the surprise.

It was slightly frustrating to Tanandra. She liked knowing all the facets of what was going on, how they worked and applied to her and those around her. She liked knowing where all the strings went and who pulled them and how, so that she herself could find a way to cut and retie her own strings to her advantage. Time and time again she'd been burned trying to reach out and play fair, teaching her that the only one who could be trusted to help her move was herself. Her family, friends, lovers... They were all the same at their cores. She knew she was just the same, though, but for the life of her Tanda couldn't say if that was the cause or effect. Tanandra was toxic, like Vanity, but while Vanity's poisons were tangible and instant and controlled, Tanda knew hers were slow and infected those around her slowly with herself, leaving her to wonder if it was everyone else who was poison to her or if it was her own doing. Creeping up through the darkness that had long-since filled the void within Louise Lefèvre was something she hadn't felt since she held that name as her own, long, long ago. Fear.

It wasn't the mortal fear of death, having proved in Creta that the stone Aurel fed to her was genuine and would keep her alive and beautiful until it was used up. No the fear was something far older than that that seemed to constantly nip at her heels in the dark all these years, through every lover and contract, through every plan to stay one step ahead. The reason Tanandra did everything to stay a step ahead: the fear and uncertainty of the unknown. When her mother had told her to never come home and that bastard had left her to fend for herself... It plagued her. Now it was there again, spilling over the walls of Tanandra's mind as she sat in the limo, silent and unsure of everything. Aurel's plan and the steps really involved, if she'd let herself blindly be used by another man and would be tossed aside at the end of this, whatever end it all brought. Uncertain about the effect this war would have on the career she'd so carefully tended, cultivated, fought, and killed for. If this took everything she had done on her own for herself, what good would being immortal be? She'd be ruined and left with nothing, amid a world in ruins.

Even though Aurel was speaking quietly with Vanity in the limo, the heaviness stifled it, drowning out the noise like the late-summer rain in Creta, leaving the actress lost in silence and thought until finally they came to a stop. They had arrived at their destiny in Central City, Amestris. Destiny should always come dressed as they did and with a limo; much better presentation. "Убирайся, если вы хотите, чтобы жить" Green hair and golden eyes swiveled around to look at King in the front, growling something in Drachman. Everyone started exiting the limo, so Tanda could only assume it had something to do with them being there, or getting out, but he could have just stopped in Central and commented that the sky was sagging for all she knew.

It was an oddly beautiful day in Central City, even though the city itself seemed rather quiet without the rushes of people the rebuilt city usually had. So recently this city had been brought to its knees, burnt and destroyed. Amestris had built back up as it was able, struggling with food shortages, money shortages, nearly every problem under the sun while pretending they'd all be just fine... only to take them to today, when they would fall once more by RIOTE's sword. They gathered in silence outside of the limo, Tanandra looking to Aurel as he glanced to each of them with a reasurring nod, as if to say that it would be alright. But would it really? Was it ever? Or was that like the lie parents told terrified children as they closed their eyes before gentle pillows came down to lead them into the dark. Tanandra gave a small shudder at her own thoughts, glancing to Nyx as Aurel knelt to hug her. Nyx was sweet, Tanda couldn't argue that. But there was a tenderness in Aurel's actions, now, and a serene gentility and sincereity to his voice that was touching, and seemed like it didn't belong with someone who was toppling the major footholds of the "civilized" world. "Aurel, what I was wondering was, what would happen if you fell into your black hole?" The embodiment of an innocence that hardly seemed befitting of someone in RIOTE, Nyx was something rare and pure that even Tanandra knew the world needed more of. That she was something in this world that should be preserved and duplicated, even though the ferocity of human nature was far too prone to snuffing it out as soon as it was where it could be plucked.

"Would you miss me if I happened to fall inside of it? Remaining silent, Tanda only observed, listening and steeling herself for whatever would come, brought by fate's beautiful yet unbiased hands. In an odd way, she knew her own answer was yes. She might miss Aurel if he simply vanished. Gold eyes watched him carefully as Aurel spoke quietly to Nyx before finally letting her go to speak to the sky itself almost before he finally pulled away entirely, standing once more and turning away from them all to head toward Central HQ. "Now, I'm really going to die, Nyx. But I'll be back only if you wait for me." Deep withing Tanda, something stirred, cold and dull, hollow as it echoed goodbyes from the past she'd tried to bury long ago. Even as the limo began to roll back down the hill, coasting and picking up speed before bursting into flames, Tanandra was silent as she watched, pausing to take in the beautiful day that would herald the end and the beginning.

Something about this substance. Something about it. It was delicious. It was satisfying. It was life, but has always been depicted as a symbol of death and destruction. Beautiful. Red. Liquid. Blood. It rand own the woman's pale arm as she slowly licked it off. She was lost in her task of doing this, not noticing anything else in the world has happening. Complete euphoria. Blood. Slightly dried. Not fresh enough. Disgusting. She lost interest.

Bored. Hungry. "Big brother, when are we going to stop to get more food?" She whined to the man sitting next to her. Balthazar. Tartarus according to RIOTE. Just as she was Eris to RIOTE. He didn't respond. He only turned to spit out the window. Figures. Before she knew it, the sunroof of the vehicle was smashed out and Balthazar had began shouting at the country. Loud. Feral. It seems that the answer to her earlier question was "soon".

Explosions. The battle was all happening so fast. They always did. A nearby apartment was decimated, probably due to Balthazar's Philosopher's Stone. It was a nasty little thing, it was. The vehicles had stopped. it was time. it was finally time to feed once more! The veteran soldiers filed out of the vehicles loading their weapons and preparing for battle as Balthazar stormed forward to lead the attack.

The green haired woman followed her brother, having no problem jumping over the rubble and avoiding the more dangerous terrain of the situation. he had transformed, revealing what he really was. it was always a disgusting change, one she'd like to avoid for now. Eventually, Eris stood right by her brother's side as he let out his battlecry, beginning the attack.

Her sword Addiction in one hand and her modified taser in the other, Eris followed her brother into battle. It was time to feed once more.