Greetings and salutations! I look forward to jumping into the action around here. I hope to get started soon.

The Chinese were being evacuated from Sierra Leone.

Their Embassy was all but shut down but only for the highest of priorities for official government business. Their deal with Legion Premiere had lapsed once additional forces for the latter armed force had arrived. They stood down and protected their own and left the Morroccan embassy to their own fate.

Reed had acquired more reasonable clothing suited to the weather. She had not seen Jacques since they parted ways at the embassy gate, but people were all a twitterpated over his presence. He was like a fucking good luck charm, and maybe he was. There had been a shocking lack of violence in Freetown since he set foot there.

An unrelieving breeze ruffled a loose linen blouse around her body. She wore denim jeans and serviceable shoes built for running and walking alike. She also wore a white hat and sunglasses. Her hair was tied out of her face, but sweat dripped down the back of her neck anyway. The sun blazed down upon where she squat on a flat rooftop.

Her Wallet beeped an alert and she lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes to study the wall-line of the Chinese embassy.

Rumors coming out of Liberia were addressed today as the government officially addressed a growing military presence on the border with Sierra Leone. To better deal with the thousands of displaced Sierra Leoneans trying to flee the ongoing conflict, Liberia's government has authorized the deployment of troops to bolster their border security. Liberian naval vessels are now patrolling off the Sierra Leonean cost, intercepting and returning vessels of refugees trying to flee to Liberian ports. Liberia strictly denies any allegations that Liberian troops have crossed the now unguarded border with Sierra Leone.

-----

Soldiers in Sierra Leonean military uniforms, with the flags and accouterments still worn by those forces loyal to General Wallace-Johnson and the government, reported to be involved in attacks on hastily formed refugee camps in south-eastern Sierra Leone, near the Liberian border. General Wallace-Johnson sternly denies any involvement by those forces loyal to the government, and accuses 'the foul traitors' that have sided with the Temne movement. General Katlego, leader of the Temne-aligned forces, accuses General Wallace-Johnson, or of those forces that have not openly aligned with either side in the conflict.

-----

There continues to be unconfirmed reports of rebels based out of the failed-state of Guinea. Contact was recently lost with the beleaguered Park Rangers in Outamba Kilimi National Park, where they had formerly been assisted by the Sierra Leonean military to protect what is believed to be the last herd of African Bush Elephants and one of the few stable populations of the Western Lowland Gorilla, who are commonly poached for their ivory and for the importance of their hearts in traditional tribal medicines, respectively.

Raiding by the Guinean warlords raises fears of a possible spread of the Ebola Virus, which has continued to plague the failed-state for the past three decades, into Sierra Leone, where higher population density and more reliable roads and infrastructure could lead to an epidemic spread of the virus in light of the current conflict.

-----

General Wallace-Johnson continues to publicly pressure the government that Martial Law should be declared, and control should be given over to himself, until such time as the Temne threat to the people of Sierra Leone is dealt with.

The remnants of the Sierra Leonean government, most of whom owe their lives either to General Wallace-Johnson or to the quick actions of Legion Premiere, are currently housed in the Parliament building under the protection of the military forces brought into the city by the General.

Opinions seem to lean towards one of two extremes regarding the General's demands for martial law, with some singing his praises and others chastising him for his apparent lack of control over his forces outside of Freetown.

-----

Legion Premiere public relations representatives still based in their company headquarters in Casablanca, Morocco, announced this morning the formation of temporary refugee camps at six locations throughout the country, with promises of the hasty delivery of shelters, food, water, and medical supplies as soon as possible.

-----

Chinese merchant marine vessels arrive in Freetown to begin the evacuation of Chinese nationals from Sierra Leone. Helicopters were dispatched throughout the country, ferrying in supplies to some of the Legion Premiere camps before extracting Chinese citizens. Due to the ongoing conflict in DV, evacuation by air from Sierra Leone to China has been deemed ill advised, and civilians will be moved by ship to South Africa, then by plane to Australia and into China.

-----

Australia announces the intent to provide $10 million in aid to Sierra Leone.

China announces the intent to provide $35 million in aid to Sierra Leone.

Most African countries as yet refuse any formal declarations of aid for Sierra Leone, although Liberia has begun forming a large camp to house refugees fleeing the territory of their beleaguered neighbor.

Morocco announces the 'donation' of their embassy in Freetown to serve as a headquarters for Legion Premiere and as a refugee camp and hospital, and the donation of $4 million in aid.

In a speech made the day after the attack on the US Embassy in Mexico City, President Manuel Moreno has issued an official statement condemning the attack.

Moreno said that while proper investigation was still on-going, and further evidence was needed, the Cartels are at the top of the list of suspects. "The government has begun to take steps to remove the corruption from Mexico," Moreno's statement ran. "While no hard evidence has yet to be found, the timing is fortuitous and looks like an act of desperation."

The President has taken swift and decisive action, stating that he would go to whatever lengths necessary to ensure the safety of both the Mexican people and Mexico's allies. The military had issued an indefinite lockdown on the Mexico City subject to a 8pm curfew. All entries and exits from the city have been installed with military checkpoints and currently no-one is being allowed in or out of the city.

President Moreno was open about his high profile guest, dismissing Mr. Oakland's possible involvement in the attack. "Mr. Oakland is working with the support of the Mexican government and people. Inspectors have questioned him and it can be confirmed that he has a solid alibi. We will of course investigate Mr. Oakland further, but we are confident Mr. Oakland has no involvement in these attacks."

Contrary to President Moreno's claims, Mr. Oakland has issued a formal apology made by Gamez Estande on his behalf. In the apology Mr. Oakland expresses his deepest regret that someone had used his past in an attempt to incite further violence. He has also stated that he would compensate the families of those who were caught in the attack himself.

It has been revealed that Mr. Oakland is suspected to be a former inmate at San Quentin Penitentiary sentenced to death for the murder of a Senator.

The US have yet to make a formal statement but President Moreno has stated he would be talking to US dignitaries as soon as possible and hoped the matter would be swiftly resolved and peace restored to Mexico.
Edited by Damien, Jul 18 2014, 08:51 PM.

The events at the US embassy were plastered all over the news. He couldn’t flip through any channel that wasn’t covering the mess. People were showed crying while emergency personnel reacted to the bombing. Likely, many people glued to their screens were equally saddened and confused by the whole ordeal. For his part, Gustavo felt nothing.

Well, he was annoyed. This debacle could go one of two ways. Either it would distract that fool American, or it might drive him even more incessantly into this little hunt of his. Gustavo wasn’t scared of the man, despite all the unbelievable things he was said to be able to do. He did, however, see him as a disruption.

“Jefe,”
one of his men walked into the living room, distracting Perez out of his thoughts. “I see you’ve heard the news. What should we do?”


What could they do? He had nothing to do with the Embassy, but he could not say the same for Delgado or Solis even though this wasn’t their style, a blind fool could see that, but with the pressure this Oakland was putting on them, either of those two was likely to snap. Had Gustavo meant to do something concerning anyone in the Embassy, matters would have been held more quietly. With his business interest in the U.S. something of this nature wouldn’t have been of any use to him.

“Nothing, Julio. The more we distance ourselves with this the better. Make sure security is alert. If the policía comes asking questions, let them in. No one else. Until some of this blows over you’ll meet Delgado and Solis in my place. Call and make sure to tighten security around my family.”


“Señor , you should go. What if the Gringo decides to come for you?”


“If he comes, we’ll handle it. If I go to Monterrey now, it’ll be too conveniently suspicious. Go, and send me one of the girls. I need a distraction.”


Gustavo watched as Julio nodded and turned back to leave. He was less than pleased with having to alter his plans yet again. But, that was the nature of the business. You adapted or died, though sometimes adapting was simply striking down all that became an inconvenience. Unfortunately, of late, inconveniences were mounting and he needed to play his cards rights in order to come up with the upper hand.

Pyotr entered the large Cathedral and the whole place was packed. It was typical of a Christmas Mass. Many didn't attend Mass for the whole year, but elected to go on Easter and Christmas; Pyotr was one of those. He had grown up in the Catholic Church, but as he got older, going to Mass was something he just didn't do much anymore.

Pyotr dipped his finger in the basin of holy water at the door and made the sign of the cross; even years of non-attendance hadn't taken the familiar movements from his memory. The Cathedral was full and Pyotr found it difficult to find a seat, even for one. He finally found one, and thankfully it was close to the aisle. Pyotr genuflected, and then moved into the pew. He greeted lean man with the brown hair and patchy beard that was sitting down next to him with a nod before kneeling to say his prayer.

Pyotr kept the prayer short and allowed his thoughts to drift. The past few days had been phenomenal. The Annual Christmas Dinner had gone well with the exception of Anthony spilling water on Marcus. The manager had fired Anthony for that. He had a feeling that he had made a decent impression on the Ascendancy as well. All in all, it was a good night and another boost to Pyotr's confidence.

Marcus had been unable to meet with him lately as he was busy with the life of a sigma, so Pyotr's lessons were on hold. With his confidence boosted, it wasn't as big of a deal, however. He hadn't used his Luck at all and the sickness had been kept at bay as a result.

Everyone in the Cathedral stood, and Pyotr, so wrapped on his thoughts, hadn't noticed that Mass was about to begin. He stood with the crowd, opening the hymnal to sing the opening hymn. The Mass was pretty normal even though it was a holiday. The opening rites concluded, lay ministers began reading scripture references from Isaiah 52, Hebrews 1, and the Gospel reading was from John 1. The service continued into the different Liturgies finally arriving at the sign of peace.

"The Peace of the Lord be with you always."
The priest said opening his hands.

"And with your Spirit."
Pyotr and most of those gathered responded.

"Let us offer to each other the sign of peace."


Pyotr turned the the man who he was now standing next to and offered his hand. "Peace be with you."

<small>[[continued from Connections]]
</small>

The super let Connor into the Ms. Chadova's apartment. The building was a run-down affair. He'd taken the stairs with the super because the elevator looked dicey. He wasn't even sure it worked. There was a musty smell to everything, including the apartment.

He thought about the girl, Katya. He'd seen her face in the news. Dead of "the sickness." He grimaced. Another one. Mr. Zhirov was a fat man, mostly bald with a very pathetic comb-over. His shirt had stains on it and from the look of everything, only did enough to keep the building from falling apart and nothing more. He was surprised that any of Katya's things were still there, especially the powerful workstation he had been sent to retrieve. As if reading his mind, Zhirov said, "I'm not going in there. I'm not gonna get sick for a bunch of junk!"
He chewed on a cigar and looked him up and down through watery brown eyes. "If you ask me, this is a foolish. Her parents didn't even want her things, they were so afraid."
He looked around irritably. "Now they don't even answer my calls. They need to come and do something about this mess."
He hocked as if to spit and then looked at Connor and refrained. He muttered, "Not my job."


Connor looked down at him frankly. "I'll get Paragon's property."
He worked for them too and had volunteered when this assignment came up. His mouth turned down. He knew what the sickness was. Hayden's face flashed across his mind. "You don't need to come in if you are afraid."
He walked into the room carrying a couple boxes and started looking around. The workstation dominated the room. Course anything would, really. Not much to the small single room. Small kitchenette, bed, small bathroom. The computer sat on a desk by the bed. Connor heard the door close behind him. The room was quietl. He just stood still, imagining the young girl. It made him sad, to think this was her home. It was an ugly place.

Even worse, there really didn't seem to be any personality to the room. No pictures adorned the wall, no photos of family or friends, nothing to say who this girl was. It made him sad. Such a lonely life. She'd died on the subway surrounded by strangers. He looked down, once again struck by how lucky he'd been to be with Hayden at the end.

Magic is everywhere. My son had it. Ayden has it. Jensen. Giovanni. Now this girl had it. He'd seen the news reports regarding the events in the DV. And some of the guys at work who frequented conspiracy sites were talking about strange events that were rumored to have happened there too. He'd even been shown grainy video of a man supposedly using magic to lay waste to one of the armies. Others in the office made fun of them of course. You could do anything with video editing and effects these days. But Connor knew all too well that magic was very real. He'd seen Giovanni use fire to burn that Ijiraq. He'd seen Jensen freeze it, just before Aria cut its head off. He pushed away the twinge of guilt at thinking of her name. The video was real. He knew it. He could vaguely make out the face. There was nothing really familiar about it, though that didn't surprise him. The world had changed. Soon the facts would be undeniable.

A part of him smiled at that thought. Once this gets out, those bastard Atharim won't be able to just put down people like they used to! Then, maybe, people like Ayden or Jensen could use their experience to teach, so that kids like Hayden and Katya didn't have to die. That would be good thing. A great thing.

He went to the workstation and when he jostled it, it woke up and he saw the images he'd expected on the wall instead floating across her display. Of course. She lived in a virtual world. That's where she displayed her loved ones. This was her true home. He felt some sense of reverence as he shut it down and boxed it all up.

He let himself out- the super was gone. Not a very good one at all, he thought, To let a stranger take whatever he wanted. He'd said he was having trouble reaching the parents. Maybe he hoped the place would get robbed and remove some of the stuff he'd have to dispose of.

It was odd though, her parents. Connor really couldn't imagine them just leaving their daughter's stuff, sickness or no. A dark thought occurred to him. The Atharim. The article had been in the news. They would have seen it. Jamie had said that families had also disappeared. Anger welled up inside him. Is that what had happened? Now that Katya was dead, her family also needed to be killed as well? He was angry. Because of them, Hayden had died. And countless others. Even though he vehemently disagreed, he could see their rationalizing it. But to also kill the family? He was shaking his had in rage. It was not right. He hated the Atharim, hated their setting themselves up as judge, jury and executioner for society.

By the time he got back to his office, his rage had given way to frustration. He'd warned Tehya and Ayden. He really didn't know what else he could do. He set the computer up in the lab and booted it up. He used the administrator login that was built into every computer. Course, everyone here was an expert, so he expected layers of home-grown security before he'd be able to get into the machine and retrieve any of Paragon's files Katya had been working on. It took hours. He ate lunch and texted Ayden. She was going to be getting off soon and said she wanted to take a nap and that she'd see him later that night. He smiled thinking of her, then frowned. She was someone who needed protection from those Atharim. Shaking his head, he got back to work.

At around 4 he finally made it through the last layer and had full access. He started pulling the last files Katya ahd been working on. One of them was a large database that she had been decrypting. That wasn't on the list given to me of projects she'd been assigned. Then again, it wasn't uncommon for people like her to do side work. He thought about her apartment. If she did do side work, it sure didn't pay well. He was curious so he opened up the file.

What he saw was strange at first. Lots of names and locations and dates, along with other names tagged as "handlers". Next of kin. Status. And pictures. Many pictures. One of the pictures made him stop, scalp prickling. He looked around to make sure he was alone in the lab, and then clicked on the image. A larger version came up, along with more detailed information. Family, a bio, summary of evidence, danger assessment, last known location.

The face was unmistakable. It was Giovanni. But the name given was "Francesco Moretti". And there was also a "reborn god" confirmation and date. And a kill-order. He knew what this was. He shut the computer down immediately, his heart racing. If they knew he had it...He wondered at how Katya had gotten this. But it didn't matter. If someone knew he had it then he would be in danger. He thought about destroying the drive. But he just couldn't do it. He had proof in his hand. Evidence of the Atharim and their murders. Many of the entries had said "terminated" under status. He'd be willing to bet searches of those people would bring up suspicious deaths. He had a powerful weapon if he could just figure out how to use it. A voice nagged at the back of his head. He also needed to let Giovanni- Francesco, really- that he was in danger. Had Giovanni known what Aria was, how dangerous she was to him?

As he thought, he got out an old drive that was exactly the same as Katya's. He then zeroed out the drive, so that it would be irretrievable. He'd tell them that Katya had booby trapped her drive with a secret security program that he'd missed. She had been low level, so what she'd been working on would not really be too important. It's why they'd sent a relatively new guy like himself to get the system and retrieve the files in the first place.

Then he slipped her drive into his bag and walked to his desk and wrote up his report. At the end of the day, he headed out, bag in hand. He was very careful to be aware of his surroundings. It didn't appear anyone was following him. But his heartbeat raced anyway.


Edited by Connor Kent, Aug 27 2014, 03:55 PM.

Hunting had been the only thing Aria had been doing for the past several days. She'd gotten so wrapped up in the hunt, her research into getting near Ascendancy had fallen to the way side. News articles piled up in her queue for reading. So that's what Aria was going to do sift through recent news.

Reading was boring and Aria nodded off several times in the dimly lit room she used to keep her material. The article she had been last reading was about the turmoil in Mecca, a picture accompanied it. At first glance Aria hadn't really paid much attention, but after the small snooze she looked again and saw someone she hadn't expected to see. She'd met him twice before, he was shaking hands with Ascendancy at the annual Christmas Dinner held at the Kremlin. The caption held a place to start - Commander Michael Vellas.

Aria sighed at the knowledge, they had both worked hard at staying anonymous, but it turned out she needed to find her savior again for more than one reason - the main being to get near Ascendancy. Though the newly forged alliance with Tehya also called for that meeting.

Aria flipped the pages of the holoscreen to the Atharm database of godlings. Aria remembered Michael mentioning he'd been hunted by her brethren. He had to be in there. A last known whereabouts something to help find it. It would make it so much easier than trying to find him in all of Moscow.

Sure enough, a last known location had been sent by the last group who had hunted him. Sadly they had not returned, he proved to be a worthy adversary to the Atharim, there really was no wondering why he'd proven himself to Ascendancy. Aria read through all the information they had on Michael Vellas, newly appointed Commander.

Aria grabbed her things, the single sword hung at her hip with the gun holstered at the small of her back. She contemplated not taking anything, but Aria didn't want to be parted from her weapons if she were to need them. She didn't expect Michael to pose a threat, but there were other dangers that her sword and gun could manage. The only true way to kill a godling was to catch them off guard, and Aria didn't think that Michael would be any easier to kill than Ascendancy. It was a good thing she didn't want to kill him.

*****

Aria hated taking the metro, but she did to get where she was going faster. She could have walked but the day grew colder, a storm was predicting to hit later that day. The weather in Moscow sucked, Aria missed the semi-warmth of the Vatican winter. But snow was definitely a new sight and the cold air helped her focus.

Wrapped in her black trench coat, Aria took a deep breathe and knocked on the door. Someone was inside, but she couldn't tell anymore than that.

<big>US Embassy attacked in Mexico</big>

<small>Fanuel Tirado Meléndez/Azteca news-conglomerate</small>




A blast triggered by an unknown event killed 17 employees at the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City early this morning.

This comes on the heels of unprecedented violence erupting between the cartels and the execution of Perrado Guitterez and the fiery displays in Zocalo square both by the American Damien Oakland.

Many question whether the American is also to blame for this new act of terrorism. If so, to what end but to incite war with the United States?




Comments: OPEN




Edited by Dane Gregory, Jul 14 2014, 03:46 PM.

<small>((continued from The Greats))</small>

Marcus woke at his usual 5:30. He had slept relatively well despite yesterday's activities and their still potentially deadly consequences. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he considered the new day and what was ahead.

He looked over at his wallet that started beeping in alarm, resisting the urge to use the Force to turn it off. It was not without some difficulty. That sense of power and control- the wrestling and constant domination- was addictive. But it went much deeper than that. When he held the power of the Force in him, every sense was heightened, the colors and sounds and sensations all suddenly possessing an infinitely wide range of variation; infinitesimal gradations were now perceivable. It was as if he were plugged into the multi-verse and was able to discern the particles themselves existing as waves of probable locations, the whole aggregate superposition, emanating out into space-time; his consciousness not collapsing them into reality, but instead sensing the infinite differentiation of them all at once. There were limitless gradations between one color and the next, between a touch on his hand and one only a micrometer away. He was aware of every subtle shift, every possible state that existed in every universe, in between those two places on his hand.

It was intoxicating and his mind luxuriated in it all- and it had been denied to him! A part of him seethed, that Ascendancy should deny him his birth right, what had been bestowed on him. Almost, almost, he seized the Force in defiance. A Sith did not ask permission for what was his.

Rage threatened to overwhelm him and so Marcus sat on the bed and did his meditations, calming himself, reasoning with himself. He was his own master. If he followed Ascendancy’s wishes, it was by his choice. It was for a reason. But what was that reason? He wasn’t sure that Ascendancy would know if he channeled, or had a method for telling if he was lying. The heightened senses might allow one to create a rudimentary lie-detector. Perhaps a few weaves would allow him to make a more advanced lie-detector. That would be interesting. Bah! There were so many things to study, so many avenues to pursue. Hiding his weaves, creating weaves attuned to specific people or use of the power, testing on Pyotr, even something spontaneous like this lie detection- even using more than one weave at once, now that he’d seen Vellas do it- all of that was denied him, until Ascendancy gave the word. It ate at him.

Why did he submit? Was he afraid? No. Fear had been burned out of him long ago, scorched in the fires of his childhood, of beatings and abuse and torment. That crucible had scoured it all away. He didn’t want to get hurt or die, of course. But that was not fear. If it was in his best interests, he’d risk torture and even death in pursuing what he wanted.

Last night had been a risk, but he had been willing to take it, and later willing to look Ascendancy in the eye and confess his actions and reasons why he did them. Ayn Rand came to him. “The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.”
Bruce Lee: “There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level.”
He decided his destiny, what he did. No one else did, not even Ascendancy.

So why then? Because he believed as did Ascendancy. He believed in his methods, in his ideology, his imposition of order. He wanted to be a part of that. The vision of Darth Imperius filled his head. “To dare to dream of something that has never existed and to make it a reality; to conjure up your deepest fears and darkest hopes; to pursue a vision ruthlessly and without relent; to create the artifacts, ideology and organization of the empires of your mind: this is real black magic, the source of all true power.


Of course the Force and the Sith were all just made up fiction. And yet…there was truth in them. Words floated to him. “Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space.”
The story’s basis, its sources came from a distillation of history, of ideas and beliefs, myths and legends of ancient powers. And he now had access to the truth that those stories only hinted at, only distantly reflected. And Ascendancy was achieving the reality. Now, 40 years later, Malik would join him, to help bring order to the chaos, discipline to the weak, stability to the sea of mankind.

This was why he submitted, this why he chose to follow Ascendancy’s commands. He believed in the man and in the work he did. And that he had a place in it, something to offer. It was the greatest power a person could have, to have people choose to willingly follow because they shared the vision, and not simply because of fear.

Malik breathed, at peace with himself and his decision. The time would come. Ascendancy would see. He had much in the way of power and genius to offer the man. And Ascendancy was no fool not to know it. Malik smiled. He’d see what a powerful ally he could be.

With that, Marcus stood up and got ready for the day, ready to seize the opportunities as they came. He went down and had breakfast and then made his way to the Consulate of Communications. In many ways, this- together with the Consulate of Propaganda- was the center of Ascendancy's power in the CCD, even more than the military. Projection of physical power, as devastating as that could be, had its limits, both in terms of cost of men and matériel. But the control of the emotions and thoughts of nations, Dominances and ethnic groups was much more subtle, powerful, and ultimately far reaching in the long run.

He was looking forward to see the challenges this day brought.


Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jul 10 2014, 04:18 PM.