It had been a tough few weeks. All the help from the channeling doctor was only so good when he still had withdrawal symptoms. He'd gotten in a small fix the other night - watching Nox and Jay. That had been a night. A stressful anxiety ridden night that almost ended the same way if it hadn't been for a bottle of very expensive whiskey. At least that's what Sage thought it was. The following morning was interesting too. He got to see Nox naked and Sage hadn't hidden the lustful glances he gave Aurora's little brother. Hell he had wanted to kiss him, he should have instead of just teasing him. But Nox admitted to being confused. He'd waited this long, Sage could wait a little longer. Though Nox knew he had feelings for the channeler.

But now Sage had to man up and go back to the University and meet with the real doctor, the one who was going to open up his head and look around. While he was fucking awake. Sage wished Nox was there, but he'd have to do this alone. He was used it, but having a friend had been good, but Nox was busy. Sage didn't know where he was, he hadn't seem in since that morning. Which made him regret not kissing the other man.

Sage was admitted and was waiting for his lovely doctors to join him. He was wearing one of those stupid gowns that revealed everything and his thoughts would betray his arousal so he thought about other things... though nothing compared at the moment since he couldn't see any information. Sage sighed and leaned back and stared at the ceiling trying to remember the feeling of information flowing through his mind. He so wanted to jack back in... but Nox had the hardware, though he could wire in... It was a thought. Inconvenient, but a thought...

Does anyone else here love Robin Hobb as much as I do?

My local bookshop made the most glorious mistake on Saturday and allowed me to collect a copy of Assassin's Fate five days before it's supposed to be published.

I'm torn between devouring it as quickly as possible and not daring to read it because it's finally the end. Agh!

Nox had stood in the study for a while after Elyse left. He hadn't felt Dorian touch his arm and when he looked at the other man he saw concern. Nox shook it away and put on a happy smile. "Let's go.
The smile covered the confusion on the inside. He'd lied to himself for so any years. Was he lying to himself now to make things look right with what happened with Jay.

His memories conflicted with the modified ones he'd always told himself. He did remember his sister though, her smile when he told her about his night after the concert. That smile was real. He knew it because he rarely saw it. They didn't have a happy life after their mother had died.

Dorian drove to the precinct. He was oddly quiet. He didn't say anything, Nox didn't say anything. It was a good thing. Inside the passenger seat Nox knew his smile had faded to reflect his dour mood. But once it stopped he put on his smile and stepped out. "Let's get this over with."


Dorian looked at him and frowned. "This isn't some joke Nox."


Nox laughed. "Sure it is, Dorian. I'm about to turn myself in to the human police for killing a monster they will undoubtedly tell me was human. And if I'm right, others are dead too and I'm going to get the blame for it. Which is why you just paled right now. Cause I'm right. I'm taking the fall for the Atharim. Best fucking joke in the world."
Nox grinned at Dorian but there was heat in his eyes. Not only was he Atharim, he was a god. And now the whole world was going to know. Teach him right for saving people. Nox sighed and lead Dorian into the building.

Once inside Nox had every intention of stepping up to the front desk and saying 'I need to confess a murder.' but Dorian took his arm and tugged him away from that desk and down into a different hall.

Somewhere in the back/basement somewhere in the bowels of the precinct building Dorian put him in a small room with a metal table, two chairs, all of which were bolted to the floor. There was a two way mirror against the wall facing Nox, when he sat down farthest from the door. There was a camera in the corner opposite the door. "I'm going to go get someone else, since I know you."
Dorian said as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

Nox sighed. Dorian didn't want to be the one to question him. He didn't blame him, but Nox had seen enough television to know how this went. Dorian hadn't cuffed him to the table, which was obviously something they could do. Not that their piddly handcuffs would stop Nox if he truly wanted to make a mess of things. Which he didn't. Nox waited patiently for someone to join him in his own private hell. It's not like he didn't have plenty of things to think about with his jumbled memories, the nights activities with Jay, Sage's come on, his utter failure as a boyfriend. There was plenty to think about.


Edited by Nox, Apr 27 2017, 04:14 PM.

Sierra received a text from Elyse. She hadn't expected to hear from the other wolf but was genuinely happy to hear from her. But the message seemed less than happy. Sierra had no problem letting Elyse stay with her. She didn't have much space, but there was a couch, and the bed was big enough for both of them if Elyse didn't mind sharing. It had been a while since there had been another warm body next to her. The thought brought back fond memories of Snow cuddled up next to her. And the sadness would creep in, so Sierra pushed away the happy thoughts.

The apartment wasn't really a mess, but Sierra picked it up anyway. It wasn't much. A small living space in the front that doubled as kitchen, dining room and living room. Sierra's apartment was already furnished - she didn't have furniture, and she rented week to week never knowing where she'd be any given week. Sierra's belongings were all in one bag she could quickly up and leave with.

The bedroom wasn't much bigger than the living space, but the bed was a queen and it was warm and comfortable and beat the ground any day. Sierra was a little worried about Elyse and paced back and forth hoping everything was alright with her friend.

Continued from "You're a wizard"

Morning rolled around and Jay showed up at the exactly 0800. He was dressed, clothes perfect, freshly showered, hair arranged, and fresh as a spring daisy. Well, if daisies lived on a forty-five minute nap, half of which took place in the cab ride from Dorian's. Only obvious thing that showed his lack of full attention to his appearance was being unshaven. Luckily, the Legion allowed for facial hair. Hopefully nobody looked too close at how untrimmed it was around the edges. But if he was wishing for people to not look too close, it was best that he keep his sunglasses close. His eyes were red, not bloodshot as death-red, but close. He wasn't sure how much he drank the previous night. Nor was he too sure he remembered everything. But he remembered enough. Things like cannibals and murder stuck; being a wizard, and well, everything else.

He also kept his phone close in case Natalie called. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

Being an officer did have its perks, though. For one thing, a few glares kept everyone below rank from bugging him. And he was able to sit down once in a while, totally not sleep sitting upright, and send their resident wizard a message.

Quote:<dl>
<dt>Message to Vanders</dt>
<dd> </dd>
</dl>


I need to see you as soon as possible. Off grounds from Igumnov House. I'll be at Khram Svyatogo park grounds across the street.

http://variety.com/2017/tv/news/wheel-of...202390897/

A Wheel of Time TV series is in the works (again?)

Are you excited?

I dunno... I'm still in the vein they won't be able to pull it off and I'll bitch and yell at it the whole time cause it's sooooo wrong.

Negotiating her passage from France to Moscow without Eleanor's interference had been easier than anticipated, but came with unexpected strings. While Natalie had been in Africa the world had turned on its axis. And the Northbrooks turned with it.

The nostalgic holiday retreat of Aubagne became a carefully executed ambush, cushioned by her family's relief at her safe return. Duty quickly caged its walls, for a while shadowing the urgency with which she had planned to leave. They sat her down. Her mother had arranged the paperwork. The discussion was only a formality.

It transpired that the Ascendancy had revealed himself.

Natalie accepted that news quietly, mind skirting carefully around the invitation burning a hole in her heart.Of the scandal that had blown her family apart. Of paper fizzling to ash in her hands. The responsibilities attached to her ancestral name tightened a noose she had always been adamant to avoid. She sensed the shift of her family's intentions before the words came clear. It will affirm our loyalties to the CCD. To Brandon. This is not a secret we can keep, her grandfather had said. She never asked how they knew. That was more or less clear; they had tied affairs with Aaron up so neatly. And the fire. Perhaps they knew more of her father's interests than they ever admitted.

Natalie said little. Had they expected a war? They didn't get it, only tight lipped acceptance of what they asked of her. She wouldn't talk about it. Skimmed the gazes of those around her. The light was far off, imprisoned from her, but it had never made her feel more distant. She couldn't stop them adding her name to the register, and she couldn't countenance the lies it would take to build a defence. The trap closed neatly. With no other recourse, she let it.

Eleanor insisted she could spend some time in Aubagne first to recuperate. She was thin. Pale. Heartsick from the things she must have seen in Africa. But the comforts of their holiday home only made Natalie restless. The sea mocked her. The pale sands where they had run and laughed as children. And she had an appointment to keep in Moscow, one she could not and would not discuss with her mother. Alistair's name was a profanity that would only poison her mother's goodwill, and that she needed to retain for a while longer. She had imagined to sneak away, but as it was the only difficulty was fending off Eleanor's insistence of an escort. For that small freedom, she fought.

And so she was in Moscow, as planned. Numb. Sparks of anger igniting and dying as she contemplated her father's silence being broken after so long, and what it meant. If anything. Her gift no longer secret, but still useless to her. Her responsibilities abandoned in Sierra Leone to pursue her own selfishness. Her freedom hanging in a new balance. Outside the windows, shadows hugged the flash of neon marking Moscow's busy streets. She could see the Ascendancy's Arch.

She should sleep off the travel, but knew she wouldn't. Tired though she was, her mind hummed with too much thought to shut out. Recklessness swept her out into the night. Old habits died hard, after all. Any bar would do. A breath of freedom. A night to forget.

Aaliyah Zevros


Aaliyah had spent a lot of time with Giovanni. Ibrahim had noticed this, and Ibrahim was a jealous man. Aaliyah found herself not caring. Giovanni had more to offer than Ibrahim ever did. However, she was surprised when Giovanni had asked her to appease him. At first she had felt abandoned by Giovanni, but then she realized what he meant - keep your relationship with Ibrahim.

So she did. As his mistress, she was still granted some semblance of power in Al Janyar. Her meetings with Giovanni continued however. The man was an enigma. He held great power, but seemed to be holding back. Aaliyah had seen it. She had heard of these gods - and apparently her new companion was one. Why didn't he rule somewhere?

Aaliyah sensed a patience in his eyes. Perhaps he waited. Perhaps he already had followers. She had no idea. He was still a private individual. But he had summoned her. Summoned. He had used the word. Aaliyah had found herself obeying without question. Giovanni had drawn her in. It was unusual for her. She usually searched for what these things did for her, but she didn't. Not this time.

Their first call out was to tell the world the Atharim weren't going anywhere. Now they needed to ride of the inside issues - the ones like the Americans and the contractors. Those who weren't pure and brought in on the same level as they were. They all had to go with any traitor among them. And right now there were two holed up in one place. No better situation than to take them both out at the same time. Two against two was good odds.

Stephan Weiss and Henrik Mantere had found the safe Mr. John White ran. It was unfortunately one of the better safe houses and it would be a shame to loose it and the premiere technology but he was not Atharim - he needed to go. And the American, boy did they hate Americans.

Their plan of action was to plant explosives, and use it as a back up. The place looked like a tin can with it's exterior built out of shells. They didn't know the layout. They knew nothing more than it was a safe house.

Stephan went around the back side from a few blocks away so they wouldn't see him coming around. And Henrik got the front. He hated the front, but he'd do the job. They were to plant the remote detonated explosives all around the building. What Henrik hadn't counted on was dogs..... fucking dogs.

The dogs started barking drew attention to the front...

[[ spoke with jacinda she's using hood's safe house while the the Atharim are regrouping. Yoshi might join ya'll but dunno I sent him a message ]]

One problem with being out of country, let out alone out of continent, was that there were times when things called for his intimate attention. If he had simply been at the Legion headquarters in Sidi Bel Abbès, Algeria, it would have been a simple matter of making his way to C2 (Command &amp; Control) and staff on hand could have briefed him on the situation. The command elements were already in place, the computers and equipment needed to liaise between troops in the field, their logistical train, and the theater command structure.

In down town Moscow, access to that sort of facility was not exactly easy to come by. At least, not at first glance.

The day had started well enough; a few minor meetings had been arranged, and Jacques and his escorts had been heading across the city to one such face-to-face with what he hoped would turn out to be an actual, legitimate investor. It was hard to find many with money in the CCD that could be bothered to care about anything outside their own borders, at least not without some hefty strings attached. Strings he had no intention of entertaining, in most cases.

Receiving a call from an unknown Algerian number had been strange enough, but he had never been one to screen his calls. To find a rather winded-sounding Legionnaire on the line, calling from a rural gas station near Sidi Bel Abbès, was certainly more unusual. The message, however, saw his entire schedule for the day wiped clean.

Legion HQ's entire command and control (C2) system had crashed, just as reports were coming in from eastern Liberia, where Legion and Sierra Leonean forces had been working closely with the reformist forces of the Liberian government and military. A sudden build up of Nigerian, Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso forces on the border with the Ivory Coast, with the Legion and Liberian field commanders agreeing it was a sure sign of an impending invasion. And then the HQ's C2 system had failed, which Commandant Tuft suspected was the result of a deliberate cyber-attack.

That had been half an hour ago. And for much of the past twenty minutes, Jacques and three Legionnaires had commandeered a preppy coffee shop which, as luck would have it, had both an excellent internet service, AND a dozen 'smart tables.' Effectively touch-screen computers as table tops.

Their initial reception had been one of confusion and arguments as Jacques' Legionnaires displaced a dozen or so university students from their seats, and Jacques had a brief, explanatory conversation (entirely one-way) as to what was happening.

They got settled in in short order, and already dozens of screens were displayed above those tables, as Jacques was plugged into the comms feeds of a dozen Legion, Sierra Leonean, and Liberian field commanders, government representatives, and an old Canadian fellow. Colonel Commandant Sauvage, honorary commandant of the 1st Legion Artillery Battalion, a rather bold name for what amounted to little more the two battery's of Howitzers and a dedicated mortar platoon. But, it also held command over the newly acquired Liberian artillery elements. A man in his late sixties, he had not only served in the Canadian military, but had worked with the very M777s that had been sold to Sierra Leone and were now in the use of the Legion.

He had answered Jacques' call for assistance, and had been training his men on the use of those guns over the internet for the past few months.

Much of the work at the moment was preliminary and reactionary in nature; Jacques had issued a series of broad orders after inserting himself into the gap in the Legion's command structure, unifying the myriad Legion and allied forces through one C2 point, namely that small internet cafe. Initial reports had been sketchy, but a picture was already being painted as recce elements reported in on the Nigerian Expeditionary Force's movement across the Liberian eastern border.

During one brief lull, as his three Legionnaires scrambled to cope with the deluge of information and requests that were pouring through the commandeered tables, Jacques turned to look at a pair of university students, many of whom were watching the four men work with open curiosity. “Is there anything you could recommend from the menu, sir?”


The young man seemed startled at first, looking from one of the monitors that showed a live video stream from a Liberian drone that was watching a column of Nigerian APCs and LAVs advance west into Liberia. “I uhh...what's going on? There?”


Jacques looked at the boy curiously, glanced at the screen that had caught his attention, then back again, “You do not follow the news much, do you? Well, I suppose in your defense, what happens in Africa does not much concern CCD news agencies, I suppose.

“Well. Long story short, I suppose. Nigeria destabilized Sierra Leone, supplying support by way of funds, weapons, and ammunition to both sides. Leading to the civil war there. And they are unhappy that I found out about it. Even more unhappy that their efforts to sick Liberia on Sierra Leone to clean up their mess failed so spectacularly. So now they have roped their cronies into invading, in an effort to further destabilize the region. You see, Liberia is one of few nations in the region that hasn't been entirely over-run by the Sahara. Abundant water, wood. Sierra Leone, abundant natural resources. Things they can make use of once they set up puppet governments. Easily done, after you kill a few thousand people.”


The pair of students, and many of the others in the room, stared at him in confusion for a moment. Except one, a young woman who was nodding along as if she understood. “Burkina Faso and Côte d'Ivoire are allied with Nigeria, mostly due to debt and bribery. Benin is the only nation in that region that is both democratic and not in Nigeria's pocket.”
A truncated line from a text book, likely.

Jacques smiled and gestured to the young woman that had spoken up, “Who is the current president of Benin, and what is their foreign policy regarding conflict in the region?”


The girl went wide-eyed for a moment, then closed them tight and waggled her fingers in the air as if trying to sort through her thoughts, “President Derrick Fasano. From umm...Togo, somewhere? Benin has a long standing policy of opposition to any of Nigeria's foreign interests, as they still suspect Nigeria of being behind the mass crop death a few years ago?”


Jacques flashed a charming, impressed smile to the young woman, “Would you care for a job? As it turns out, I am in need of an adviser on African political affairs. I assume you are majoring in something related?”


She seemed startled again, and glanced at one of her friends for a moment, then nodded slightly, “Political sciences. We just finished a module on Africa. Ummm...what would I need to do?”


He tapped one of his men on the shoulder, and a short discussion later a new screen popped up above one of the tables, showing a rather beleaguered looking woman standing in a pleasantly adorned wood-paneled room. “Mr Danjou? I take it your offices in Algeria are up and running again?”


“Sadly, no, Mademoiselle Karthika Narang. But, if she is willing, I have my liaison officer.”
He looked from the Indian woman, a volunteer to the Legion's cause to bring a lasting peace to the region, and current Legion 'diplomat' in Benin, “Assuming this young lady is interested in the opportunity?”


He looked at the woman, who stared at him wide-eyed for a few long moments, clearly unsure what to do. “I do not mean to rush you, Miss...?”


“Karina. Uhh...Karina Rao?”


“Mademoiselle Rao. But lives are in the balance.”


She froze, eyes locked on the display of Nigerian and Burkina Faso forces advancing into Liberia. A brief war of emotions crossed her features, before she finally cleared her throat and stepped forward, taking Jacques' hand, “Uhhh...I'll do my best?”


“I know you will. Mademoiselle Narang will bring you up to speed, and explain what I'll need of you. Thank you.”
He gently urged her towards the waiting screen, and the two women began discussing the situation.

He glanced at the displays again, then back to the crowd of university students, some of whom were still recording the goings-on live on their social media feeds, Wallets held up and some babbling excitedly. His gaze landed on a pair, an idea coalescing in his mind. “You two. What are your majors?”


Another young woman lowered her Wallet briefly to glance at him, then flashed a grin, “Journalism.”


“Social Sciences. Uhh...International Law mostly?”
The young man was a bit more hesitant to respond.

“Journalism. Excellent. Care to be a war reporter, from the comfort of a Moscow cafe?”
She went wide eyed, then nodded eagerly.

“International Law? Damnably handy, when in the middle of this sort of thing. Can't exactly reach my lawyers at the moment. I need someone liaison between myself, Sierra Leone, and Liberia, to start drafting up a unified declaration of war. And a formal request of aid from Benin.”


The young man glanced at his journalist friend, who waggled her eyebrows at him and jerked her head towards the table Jacques was indicating to, clearly encouraging her friend to do it.

“Uhhh...Yeah? I mean, guess it'd look good on the resume maybe?”


Jacques laughed and nodded in agreement, “Would give you a leg up over your class mates.”


Within minutes, many of those once balking and upset university students were gathered around the tables, sharing the work load with Jacques men. It would be hours before HQ would be up and running again, and there was too much work that needed to be done too soon. He glanced at the pair of baristas standing at the closest end of the bar, watching the strange goings on. Then he pulled out his credit card, “Start a tab, would you?”