Once on the street, Manix walk toward a brick wall. The wall, looking solid and tall, was on the border of the Izmailovsky Market. Manix slipped out a Sturdy bottle of sea water from his home, using just a small amount to fill the cup of his hand. Looking, without appearing to look he could feel the strange power come thru the water, ropes of white and blue started to weave around him with smaller threads of brown blending in. The ropes and threads wove a rug that made anyone looking seem to glance right past Manix, not seeing him. A second set of threads came forth, brown and reds flowing at the solid brick wall, a door suddenly shimmered in the wall, as if there and not there. Manix walked forward, opened the door and walked in. Upon the closing of the door, the wall seemed solid again, the rug of blue and white was tied in a knot so it would not unravel. He only had a short time. Quickly he changed into finer clothes. With clothes, fitting a wealthy fisherman donned, he left for the Silversmith's shop. Once out the door he untied the threads that held his rug together, wisps of blue, white and brown slowly drifted off. Manix was already n full stride before the weave was gone, going, once again, unnoticed in and out of his little dressing room.

It proved to be a long-term investment. Weeks had passed since the Almaz and Ori's new acquisition. The injuries he'd sustained from White's beating were on the mend, bruises a kaleidoscope slowly fading against his bronze skin, no bones broken, fortunately. She visited frequently, food and water her gift, but he rarely stirred from the thicket of his den. The chains did not clink, but she could hear him breathing in the dark shelter she had offered him to recuperate. Sometimes she caught the feral glitter of gold eyes. A low warning growl.

The man had been plucked from the Underground; senseless, penniless and half-starved. Insane, by all accounts. Savage, more beast than man. Perfect for exploitation in the pits; a brutal fighter spurred, not by money or fame, but by the desperate will to survive. It served as both his motivation and his reward. But it was the yellow eyes that had fascinated her, and sparked the machinations of her presence that night at the club. One could not technically own another person. But she had brought his contract following his release into the crowds, and now he as good as belonged to her.

The smell of him was offensive, his clothes the stained remains of garments he'd worn in the fighting pits. His hair curled dark and wild about his head. Skeletal cheekbones razored above a thick and knotted beard. He was almost lupine in the shadows, coiled on all fours, crouched in the shadows. Though he was chained, she didn't underestimate the corded power of his muscles. Burnished eyes followed her movements. She did not go close. She was not afraid, but neither was she stupid. The food and water she placed within arm's reach, kicking away the remnants of her last visit. She retreated, twisted a chair, and sat. Waiting.

[This is related to the events in Blood Sport]

Anyone watch it? President Petroff makes Nikolai so proud.

lol

Hi guys,

Big changes are coming my way in life. Being able to write/play again is on the horizon rather than a distant hope.

So hang in there. I'll be back to stir the pot eventually.

~A

The bill for the Jeep had been horrendous thankfully the Atharim would pay for it. At least they would now. The perks of actually flying high on their radar of hunters. It meant they would know Nox was back in the States but he figured they wouldn't care, the Old World Atharim weren't exactly found of the New World hunters - all fly by the pants and all. But it was what it was and Nox paid the bill, the Jeep sounded rough.

There was a cache nearby so that was his first stop that and sleep. His body ached from the strain of the fear on the plane. Nox had survived it alone, but he was sure that the people sitting next to him thought he was some sort of freak or mentally handicapped or something. And Nox actually let them believe that; playing dumb was easy - people underestimated him that way.

The storage facility manager looked at Nox warily but nodded as he drove through the gates to the storage locker. To the manager it was just an empty bin, we kept only a few things in each place mostly weapons. Nox's father had been a gun collector, at least that's what he told anyone who'd ask. There was nothing special or black market about the gear, just was a lot of it. They were survivalist to most hoarding water and non-perishables. Waiting for the zombie apocalypse to come. No such things but hey it was a gimmick that people believed. Sure some people thought they were crazy to them but it was believable. It sounded better than they hunted monsters for a living. No one would believe that at all.

Nox packed the small footlocker in the back of the Jeep and headed towards a cheap motel he knew of. It was not the place he would have stayed with his family but at least it wasn't riddled with bedbugs, or the like. He had certain standards now and he knew the Atharim would pay him what he was worth as long as he kept bringing in the monsters.

Sadly the place was a lot worse off than when Nox and his family had traveled through last and Nox went to the next place on his list. He hadn't been there in a long while. Nox stared at the parking spot they had been in, there was no sign of trauma here, the blood stain had been washed away by years of weather. But Nox could still see the pool of blood lying underneath where his mother had lain brutally slashed and torn apart.

He'd forgotten this was the last place they'd been until he'd seen it.

Time passed and Nox wasn't sure what time it was he didn't even check his wallet just went in, got a room. It wasn't a surprise when he got the same room as they'd stayed in. The room smelled the same as he remembered and what little food survived in Nox stomach wound up in the garbage can next to the door only adding to the putrid aroma of stale smoke and cleaning supplies.

Nox left the door open as he carried the locker inside the room. He wanted to check how things had survived and knew that he'd end up in tears by the end of it but it was to be done. Nostalgia was a killer and Nox fought to keep his memories inside instead of letting the fire that boiled inside of him. The power hummed and sang at the edge of his vision and he knew better than to grab it to heed it's wondrous call.

Instead Nox laid down on the bed and tried to drift to sleep, but memories flood his mind and tears fell as he hugged the pillow tightly against him. Coming here had been a bad idea. But sleep finally came and Nox drifted in blackness.

****

The darkness was never a good thing. It meant only one thing - nightmares. There was nothing but stillness tonight. And then the memories flooded in. All the happy memories mingled with all the tragedy and death Nox and seen. Images that couldn't be real - hadn't been real. Fear lanced through the nightmare and the large black dogs with glowing eyes appeared over the ridge - a ridge Nox hadn't remembered being there before. One, then another and then a third. All stalking in the dead of the night. They split off from each other and Nox lost sight of two of them. It could be only one thing - dark-hounds. The image of his mother's mutilated body flashed in front of him and the hound howled leaving shivers down his spine. Nox was frozen in fear as the darkness stalked him.

Was just wondering if there was anyone around wanting to write something. Even if it's off the wall we can go play in the dream world and it's not real. I just wanna write with someone...

Chief Inspector Drayson took the steps into the Golyanovo District precinct two at a time. Reporters were held at bay by a line of beleaguered and grim-faced police officers, and Drayson studiously ignored the questions being yelled in his wake; how many dead, who to blame, investigations!

The Domovoi raid hadn't exactly failed, but the cost in lives had been far higher than Drayson could accept. Four members of Domovoi's SPMU team dead. Volkov dead. An as yet unidentified man, dead. The fire had raged through The Ministry, and destroyed or damaged six adjacent buildings in the densely packed neighbourhood. Luckily, most appeared to have been empty. Fire crews had yet to find any remains in the debris.

Early news reports were already predicting it as a terrorist attack, or more accurately, a police raid on a terrorist cell that went awry. Close enough, for the moment.

He returned the salutes of two officers at the precinct doors, and shared a look with the pair as he passed. As far above the rank-and-file as he was, the loss of the Domovoi team members had affected him just as heavily as it did them.

Moscow's PR department was hard at work, deflecting calls by reporters, concerned citizens, politicians and city officials. The precinct's main floor/office space was a-buzz with ringing phones and non-committal answers to questions.

Minutes later, Drayson stood in Captain Aleksandrov's office, the two men looking years older then they were. Out of sight of cameras or peeping eyes, their masks were at least momentarily dropped as each shared a shot of whiskey from the Captain's personal stock.

Their conversation was brief; Drayson was brought up to speed without preamble or excuses. Botched intel, bad luck, and the risks of the job were to blame. There had been no reasonable way of knowing about the gas leaks. But while Volkov was dead, there was at least one promising catch in the form of the young magic user that had started the fire.

They just had to figure out a way to question the man without putting themselves at risk.

Aria had gone off and Aurora was dead and Nox felt more alone than he'd ever felt in his life. He was crashing at HQ and he felt so wrong being there. If Aria was going to go off and play Cowboys and Indians by herself so would he. Helping Ivan had been a great distraction but it only made him long for more.

To get away from it all Nox booked a flight back home. A flight. He wasn't eager to step foot on a plane again. He wasn't eager to feel the air plummet beneath him as he fell. Odds were in his favor to survive, but that didn't help the sinking feeling when he stepped on board the oblong tube that could have been his death.

The fear pulsed through his body as they took off and it didn't subside until he had two feet firmly on the ground at JFK. It had been a long flight, his body ached from the strain of keeping himself together.

When he and Aurora left they had been going for only a few days. They left the Jeep parked in long term parking and Nox was not looking forward to the bill he was about to pay to retrieve his entire life. And that was exactly what he intended to do while he was here. His family had traveled North and Central America hunting monsters for his entire life he had a lot of things to collect. It all could be useful to him if the Atharim ever caught on to the fact that he was a reborn god. But right now he just wanted any semblance of home and life the way it used to be.

The by land ride was much nicer than the flight. It took longer, but at least, it gave her time to find out precisely where her father was. She was only out of satellite range for about an hour. It turned out he was still in Moscow and from the looks of things he had brought family with him.

Giordano Pirozzi, one of the most elusive men on the Atharim radar and she intended to kill him. Not because he was Sentient, that was only part of the reason. No, she intended to make him suffer for the travesty of killing Lucas.

Thoughts of Lucas still cut deeply. The pain would lance through her when she would see a snow crest or see a pretty sunset. It only fueled her desire to make Giordano pay for his crimes.

She would put to shame what she did to that reporter that night with Dane by what she did to her father. He didn't deserve mercy - he gave none to Lucas. Making him suffer the death of all the feelings piled upon him. That was no way to die. And yet she had just done the same to a man all because Ascendancy wanted her to. She was no better than her father - she was probably worse, but it hardly mattered. Aria would kill Giordano and probably lose herself in the process.

There was still time to think about how she wanted to kill him. The train would be a while longer. And Aria was eagerly awaiting the day she saw her father scream!


Edited by Aria, Jan 27 2016, 05:33 PM.

I'm going to have Nox hit the US for a trip down memory lane since losing Aurora. I was going to make a trip into Mexico as part of it if anyone was interested in doing something. Don't have to plan anything other than a run in.

Let me know. Plan on heading that way soon.