FUCKING PLACEHOLDER UNTIL I WRITE AN ARTICLE THAT MAKES SENSE

<big>Ascendancy nominated for Nobel Peace Prize</big>

Brandon's nomination was put forth because he "promotes resolution of all conflicts arising on the planet."

<small>The Mirror
James Christopher

2045</small>






The founder of the Central Custody of Dominion, Ascendancy Nikolai Brandon, has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.

A spokesperson for the Moscovite advocacy group permitted to make Nobel Peace Prize nominations stated Brandon as worthy because he “actively promotes resolution of all conflicts arising on the planet.”

Custody Press has released a statement quoting the Ascendancy as stating he was "humbled and honored by the nomination. My efforts have extended beyond Custody borders and sought to bring a stop to the bloodshed."

The Ascendancy will dedicate all his resources to an upcoming tour through Dominance V, which has recently seen an increase in religious infighting, with some demonstrations turning deadly to help the conflict situation with political dialogue. This is only further evidence that he is worthy of this high title.

According to the Moscow Press Society, the academy's submission to the nomination committee read: "Being the leader of one of the foremost nation in the world, Nikolai Brandon makes efforts to maintain peace and tranquility not only on the territory of his own country but also actively promotes resolution of all conflicts arising on the planet."



COMMENTS: Open

Jessika Thrice cancels sold out fundraiser

Dallas Chronicle
A.P. -2045

The Citizens for Reformation campaign organization has announced today that a fundraiser meant to take place tomorrow night at the San Antonio Convention Center for Jessika Thrice's election for Governor of Texas has been cancelled.

Jessika, known to many as the up and coming Grassroots Princess, herself has made no official statement as to why the sold-out fundraiser thought to consist of many wealthy Southerners from across Republican and Democrat party lines will be absent.

The CFR organization will reschedule for a future date. Refunds will not be issued. A television appearance for Ms. Thrice scheduled for Wednesday morning is also rescheduled.

Torri acknowledged her checklist one last time before zipping up her rucksack. Uniforms, kit and belongings were all accounted for. Her medical gear would stay separate and on her person at all times excluding the most formal of events.

Satisfied, she put the finishing touches on her pack and reached for the phone to call down for transport, but before she finished punching in the code, the television blared awake.

Her face snapped toward the other room and a thin line pressed her lips together. Moments later, she was pressing her forearm to a scanner embedded beneath the system, and once clearance was assured, the feed sprang to life.

"At ease, Captain Weston,"
the speaker ordered, and Torri relaxed her stance, not at all bothered by the abrupt interruption to her life there in her own living room.

The caller was a red-blonde woman named Jan a paygrade above Torri herself, but Jan worked in the Executive Office of the Ascendancy as military liaison. The only time she contacted Torri was to deliver a message regarding the Facility, which fell under EOA command. It had been weeks since Krasivolkya was the face on the monitor, but Torri did not question what happened to the woman. She had appeared unwell during the tour at the Facility. Torri's investigation found a diagnosis of a mild panic attack, but further investigation as to the government official's whereabouts were hidden behind clearance-walls. Torri subsequently ceased further investigation.

"Is there a message, ma'am?" Torri asked, flatly. She was prepared for the journey to DV. She was going to travel in Subject 22's ... Alric's... company, both as physician and as a expert on The Sickness, which she now was, more intimately than she ever wanted. DV was no more immune than the rest of the world by their own cases. There were samples to collect, and Torri was going to be there to see it done. Why else would the Facility order her to travel with the Ascendancy's caravan?

She accepted the following orders with a stern nod and salute. Finally, when the feed was closed, a thin line pressed her lips together.

The CPC official press release to follow.

For now, Patron Yaser Adnan al-Qasimi and his appointed Governance-Directors for the cities of Mecca, Kuwait City, Medina, and Karbala have arrived in Dubai.

Meanwhile, preparations are underway to stabilize the city for the Ascendancy's arrival. The Executive Kremlin Itinerary states the Ascendancy will touch down at DXB sometime in the early-morning hours, then travel by secure air-traffic to Dominance headquarters for closed-door meetings.

Tuesday, the group will tour through the Dominance's greatest cities to meet with government and religious officials. The Summit will commence in the morning hours of Wednesday morning in the city of Mecca and is expected to continue uninterrupted until Friday.

The Summit will consist of a panel of Custody officials and representatives of the Madhi faction among others. An invitation has been extended to Muhammad al-Hasan requesting his attendance.

Comments are: CLOSED

Is the CCD losing its grip on DV?

<small>Al-Jazeera LIVE</small>

Good afternoon from Dubai, and once again I'm Samir Abdukhaliq.

Is Dominance V under threat of slipping out from under control of the CCD? Recent events suggest the rising influence of Muhammad Al-Hasan and the actions of his followers suggest Moscow's ability to influence and control events in the Middle East might be waning.

Today, there was yet another checkpoint flare-up outside Kuwait City that appears to have enraged citizens who support Muhammad Al-Hasan as the Mahdi. Apparently, a woman clad in head-to-toe black niqab refused to remove her garment in response to an ordered search at a checkpoint. Her two male cousins accompanying her refused to allow a female CCD soldier to pat her down. During the dispute a weapon was discharged, resulting in the woman suffering a gunshot to the leg.

Mahdi sympathizers have rallied around "Amira," taking to the streets to protest CCD infringement on women's decency. Amira is recovering from her injury in a Kuwaiti hospital and is expected to be released tomorrow.

Let's go to Achmed Karoum, professor of theology at the Center for Islamic Studies in Dubai. Achmed, what can you tell us about the implications for the CCD as it stands right now in this situation?

ACHMED: Thank you Samir. To be quite honest, it doesn't look good for the CCD. I'm certainly not claiming they were culpable here -- it's their duty to maintain order, and sometimes things like this happen -- but there is strong tradition for the martyr and it seems this woman has been cast in this role by Mahdi supporters.

SAMIR: So you're saying that it doesn't really matter whether the CCD soldiers involved with the shooting of Amira were in the right or wrong -- all that matters is the perception?

ACHMED: Yes, exactly. It's a powerful and quite compelling narrative in the Islamic world -- young woman attempting to protect her modesty and being harmed while resisting violation of her virtue -- so regardless of what the facts were at the checkpoint, that's what's going to be remembered. And the emotion provoked by the perception is unlikely to go away on its own, regardless of how baseless it might be.

SAMIR: Thank you, Achmed.

In other news, government offices in Karbala, An Najaf and Al Basra have reopened after local officials have allegedly proclaimed their recognition of Muhammad Al-Hasan as the annointed spiritual leader of Islam. Protesters in Medina continue to prevent local government from access to their places of work. Protesters claim Sharif Abdul Kassan has political ties that are too close to the Holy Soldiers of Muhammad, the group alleged to have started the violence against the Mahdi faction, to allow the Sharif to continue in office. Sharif Kassan has vowed to seek CCD assistance to help him regain his place of office.

We'll bring you more news as it develops. For now, I'm Samir Abdukhaliq and you're watching Al-Jazeera LIVE.

Copyright Al-Jazeera News 2045, Dubai, D.V.

Comments are: OPEN

<small>((Comments are anonymous unless you state your character's name in the time tag:

Comment: "NAME" (TIME TIMEZONE) ))</small>

Title: Teen With 'Superhuman Strength' Spits Blood At Firefighters During Drug-Fueled Party: Police

The Huffington Post | By Sebastian Murdock
Posted: 10/03/2013 2:20 pm EDT | Updated: 10/03/2013 3:19 pm EDT

A wild drug-fueled party in California got even crazier when two teenagers allegedly spit blood at firefighters who showed up to help a guest who had reportedly suffered a seizure.

Emergency crews responded to a Mill Valley, Calif., home early Sunday after receiving a report that a teen had experienced a seizure while on LSD, according to KTVU.

When they arrived, paramedics and firefighters were blocked from entering the home by a 16-year-old boy allegedly covered in blood. Police told KTVU that the teen refused to let responders inside the home, displaying "superhuman strength" while resisting emergency crew efforts to open a gate.

"It's interesting that both firefighters and a deputy both described this individual as having superhuman strength," Marin County Sheriff's spokesman Lt. Doug Pittman told the station. "This is something we used to see years ago with the use of PCP. We don't see that very much anymore."

Authorities told the station that the responders called for backup once the 16-year-old and his 18-year-old girlfriend began spitting blood into the faces of firefighters.

Officers from five neighboring cities showed up to calm the scene. When emergency workers were finally able to get inside to assist the seizing teen, they discovered eight other partygoers allegedly covered in blood.

Inside, deputies said they found what appeared to be marijuana, heroin, cocaine, and a designer drug similar to ecstasy, according to The San Francisco Appeal.

Deputies determined the blood had come from self-inflicted injuries of the blood-spitting 16-year-old.

The two spitting teens, along with another 18-year-old male, were all charged with resisting arrest, being under the influence and assaulting emergency workers. All three were taken to a nearby hospital to let the drugs wear off before being booked into either Marin County Jail or juvenile hall.

A 16-year-old girl whose family owned the house was also charged with a misdemeanor under the county's Social Host Accountability Ordinance, according to SFist.

An investigation is ongoing, and authorities say other charges may be added.

Published by The Huffington Post, 10/03/2013. U.S.A (real article])

Encrypted Message


((To understand read me))

Hopefully this works. I'm looking for someone to integrate a wallet and a government issue set of goggles. Pay isn't great to start with, but if it turns out great you can have all the credit and the patents etc. As well as sell it to another bidder. My uses are private and I don't care what ya'll do wit it later.
pose.




Comments are: OPEN


Edited by Aria, Nov 12 2013, 02:48 PM.

Tensions rise in Middle East
Mahdi faction shuts regional governors out


<small>Al-Jazeera LIVE</small>


Good afternoon from Dubai, I'm Samir Abdukhaliq and here are your headlines at the top of the hour.

Tensions continue to arise across Dominance V as the man proclaimed by his followers to be the Mahdi continues to draw followers. The Ascendancy himself, Nikolai Brandon, is coming in just a few days to visit the Dominance in an attempt to negate the escalating violence, and it seems it can't happen a moment too soon.

I'm sure you all remember the attack on the Grand Mosque in Mecca that took some inexplicable turn when the attackers were struck by lightning. Well, just two days ago, there was another strike by lightning which claimed the lives of about a dozen individuals who were also found with various weaponry about themselves.

The CCD has been fast in its response to bring troops into the region, setting up checkpoints for weapons searches in various parts of the area. One such checkpoint flared up in a fiery battle yesterday morning. Apparently loyalists of the Mahdi faction refused to surrender their weapons to CCD officials, claiming they were needed for defensive purposes. When CCD troops moved to seize the weapons, the Mahdi loyalists resisted, sparking a skirmish that left three CCD soldiers and six civilians dead.

From Mecca, the Mahdi faction has apparently blamed the CCD for targeting the wrong faction as the aggressors in this current flare-up of religious violence. A declaration came today from Mecca to his faithful:

(Roll video clip)

AL-HASAN: "Do not lose heart as the unbeliever moves to take your protecton away. Allah will show the right path if you submit yourself to his will. And he will prove himself supreme over all transgressors."

(end video clip)

More news has come today that Mahdi supporters have moved to prevent several provincial governors from entering their places of work. In Medina, protestors barred the entrance for Sharif Abdul Kasan into the city hall. Similar actions have been noted in other cities across Saudi Arabia and Iraq.

That's all for now, I'm Samir Abdukhaliq and this is Al-Jazeera Live.


Copyright Al-Jazeera News, 2045, Dubai, D.V.

Comments are: OPEN

<small>((Comments are anonymous unless you state your character's name in the time tag:

Comment: "NAME" (TIME TIMEZONE) ))</small>

Jensen took the train to work straight from John's. He cut it close as it was, and thankfully the Moscow metro system was famously punctual. He'd spent the good part of the ride with his forehead pressed against the window, staring into the blur of tunnel lights streaking by, and the rest of it rounded over in his seat and wringing his hands. He had a lot to think about.

He was thankful for the monotony of the night's shift. Forklift driving didn't require a college degree, but it was dangerous work, but it gave his mind the chance to focus on something else for ten hours. He'd barely noticed the passage of time until the horn sent him to a break room for a sandwich.

Come morning, he was worn out again. It was part of the reason he sought a job over third shift at all. The solemnity of nights were hardest when left alone with only one's guilt for company. His solution had been to work himself to exhaustion and collapse every morning without the energy to do more than shower off the grime. It worked too well, sometimes.

The day's sleep was fitful and restless. He tossed and turned and not just due to the ridges of an uncomfortable Murphy's Bed. He'd always been an animated dreamer, but nightmares were only a regular occurrences in the last few years, and they did not make for pleasant bedmates.. so to speak.

He meandered around the small apartment he did not call home but lived in nonetheless and went mindlessly through his regular morning's routine. Mindless because his attention was firmly plagued by wondering when exactly he was going to make good on the promise to himself, John, and God to fast and pray. He had to work again tonight, and he had no intention of not fulfilling the agreement with his employer to actually show up. God probably wouldn't be too pleased with someone breaking one of the Ten Commandments, lying, in order to stay home and read their Bible.

Although it was tempting. In fact, shortly after the shower, he hastily wrapped a towel around his waist and sat at the small desk that served as a kitchen table and started flipping through the three-hundred year old Cambridge Bible John had presented to him. Before he knew it, an hour had passed, his coffee cup was long ago emptied, and he was still in a towel.

It was an extraordinary book. He couldn't imagine anyone in the world who wouldn't appreciate it, no matter their affinity for religion, history, or knowledge. If nothing else, it was in pristine shape. If John used this Bible for his daily devotions, he'd treated every single crisp page with the reverence it was due. Jensen was almost nervous to turn a page for fear of damaging it.

There was a book, however, he could pour himself into without fear. His own Bible.

The night he fled Dallas, he'd not had the specific book he used on a daily basis, nor the book from which he preached, which were two very different things, in his possession, but he did have the Bible he kept in his car on hand. The car was ditched in Mexico City, three days after the... incident, and God Bless the poor people of the city, but it was likely stripped to a thousand pieces within twenty-four hours. A gleaming white Mercedes attracted dangerous attention south of the Border. There were many long hours where he'd white-knuckled it. So no other trace of his passage remained. Any belongings he'd left inside were long gone. Everything but this Bible and ten million in cold cash.

So with the Cambridge Bible unfolded alongside, Jensen just started reading. He didn't know what he was seeking. Answers, he supposed. To questions posed by John and those echoed in his own mind. He reread passages about angels appearing on Earth with a critical eye. He sought out the chapters in Revelation about the reign of the Anti-Christ. He tried to place himself in all of it somewhere, but the harder he looked, the more forlorn he became.

Frustration gnawed discomfort in his chest, and he flipped the cover of his car-Bible shut with more force than he'd meant. The thing teetered dangerously, then tumbled right through his fingers to the floor, landing in a loud, flat thump. A tangible consequence of an impure heart.

"I'm sorry,"
he told the book as he bent to pluck it from the floor.

As he was inspecting it, there was a rustling sound behind him, like wind blown through those closed shutters. No chill of outdoor weather washed onto his bare back, yet chills shot down his spine.

Stomach sank with tension, he looked over one shoulder, and his jaw dropped.

Appeared half-way in the room was a very normal looking man. He had thin brown hair swept across his forehead, the stubble of a thin, groomed beard spotted gray, who was dressed in a plain button down shirt untucked from his slacks. He was watching Jensen with a kind, but concerned, expression. It was his eyes Jensen would always remember. Like they knew every thought in his head, but loved him anyway.

Jensen shot to his feet. His chair skid backward. There was a flash of fresh air across his waist like he'd dropped the towel, but when his hands went to grope for the cloth, they found the slick nylon of running shorts instead. Kind of weird, but he didn't take much time to investigate the rest of his attire, but apparently he was ready to go for a long run.

The front door was still bolted from the inside. The window was closed, although the curtains were thrown open--no, they were tied back. Jensen blinked, briefly unsettled.

The gentleman put up a hand. "Be at ease, Jensen. You are dreaming, my son. This is a dream, but it is also real."


Jensen gaped. He'd always been an active dreamer, but this was an incredibly real dream. "I don't feel like I'm dreaming. Who are you?"
The curtain was closed again, and the Bibles, the car and Cambridge books, were both gone from the table. As was that cup of cold coffee. That, he rather wished was still there. His hands itched to ground themselves on anything.

"Let's say I am an Angel of the Lord,"
he clasped his hands before him, and a great wave of calm washed over Jensen whose clothes suddenly dissolved into similar attire as the angel's: an untucked button-down and slacks. Jensen's forehead wrinkled with wide-eyed shock.

The angel went on. "I have met you in this place to give you a message."


Jensen approached, feeling as though he'd been wandering in the desert his whole life and had yet to find water, and although hesitant to believe this was real, he feared this pool of water would turn out to be filled with shards of broken glass.

Jensen felt he'd hardly taken a step, but the next moment, the angel was standing right before him. In fact, it seemed the whole room shifted around him rather than the other way around. He placed a warm hand on Jensen's shoulder.

"You have gifts, Jensen,"
the angel's eyes burned bright into Jensen's soul, "spiritual and physical. Do not fear them. Draw upon them, and do the work you are meant to do. You are living in a wrinkle in time, but it is not the end. There are no ends."


The blood drained from Jensen's face. In his heart, he trusted this messenger with his very life, but doubt spiked fear behind the wrinkle of his brow. He shook his head, imagining falling from the grace of heaven and landing in everlasting damnation. He grew dizzy merely meeting the angel's gaze. He looked away. "I am not worthy. Why me?"


The angel cupped Jensen's face in his hands, as a father would of a fearful son, and drew his attention once more. That sense of calm washed over once more. "We may never know why one soul can sense the Light and others do not."


Jensen's eyes fell sullen, "how am I to know what I am meant to do?"


"Look inside yourself. Look to the Light."
The angel looked away, as though seeing far beyond these four walls. He nodded to watching eyes unseen, then there was another quiet howl of wind, and Jensen was suddenly alone.

He looked to his clothes and found the towel once more. The Bibles were back on the table, and the curtains were open again.

He gasped himself awake. Actually awake, this time.

He sat up in bed, half panicked and half elated. An angel of the Lord had appeared to him in a dream. Not bothering to dress, he practically lept up to make a phone call before he could talk himself out of it.

"Hello?"
A woman's voice answered groggily. It was the middle of the night in Texas. Jensen remained quiet, and she spoke again with more earnestness this time. "Hello??"


Jensen's voice was calmer than he'd thought it would be. "Jess?"


"Speaking. Who is this?"
There was a hesitancy cutting across her groggy voice.

"It's Jensen."
Then--Silence.

A request for face to face came through almost immediately. Jensen suddenly regretted his hasty decision-making, at least he could have put on pants for pity's sake! He grabbed a shirt, a button-up ironically, and threw it on. He'd barely managed to step into shorts before Jessika's screen came through.

The light of a lone lamp shone in the background on her side of the call. Jensen didn't recognize the room she was in, but it had the standard decorations of a cookie-cutter hotel.

She was as disheveled as he, but only because Jensen knew what to interpret. He drank in the sight of her, and his heart wanted to sing, but he made himself sit still.

Likewise gazing into a screen of himself, Jessika threw a hand across her lips. She still wore her wedding ring. Jensen absently rubbed a bare finger. His was packed away in a box in the closet.

She'd always been a strong woman. He loved that about her. She could weep for joy as fiercely as she could grieve, but it appeared the last four years suddenly broke through the dam of her frayed emotions, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Please don't cry, Jess."
He urged, achingly. How badly he wanted to hold her.

Those big beautiful blue eyes opened once more. floating in a sea of bright red. "Jensen. It really is you? Oh, my God. Please! Where are you? What happened? Are you alright?"


Jensen cut her off, "I can't tell you where I am. But I am fine. I'm better than fine, actually. Jess-"


This time she gawked, "What! Why not? Are you in trouble? My God you are in trouble. The blackmail. Are you in jail? Does someone have you?! I swear I will--"


He lifted his hands, wishing he could imbue her with the calm as had that angel. "--Jess, I disappeared because... because I'm something more than a man. I thought I was possessed, and I ran half out of my mind with fear. But now I know the truth, and I don't fear it anymore. An Angel of the Lord came to me. I have something to do for the kingdom. I think... I think I am an angel, too."


It was still hard to believe, but it was also hard to argue with both John Smith and an angel coming to his dreams, like some prophet of the Old Testament. Those guys surely didn't believe it either.

Jess's face wrenched with pain. Her voice cracked one single, disbelieving sob: "Oh, Jensen. Please tell me where you are. I'll come to you, and we'll get you the help you need."


Jensen couldn't believe his ears. "I know it sounds crazy, Jess! If only I could prove it to you..."
he held out a hand and the familiar orb of light swirled into existence once more. Jessika barely glanced at it, and the confidence with which Jensen wielded the light into being wavered uncertainly. It winked away. "Jess-,"
he started, but she was now looking elsewhere, eyes darting fast across another simultaneously opened screen. She was searching for his coordinates. Then, in surprise, she mouthed a word that Jensen recognized: 'Moscow'.


His breath caught in his throat. Her gaze locked sternly onto his. Her mind was made up. "Jensen, stay where you are!"


Jensen shook his head, "Jess please don't come!"
Not into the belly of the beast itself! If John was right, the apocalypse was about to break, and Jensen was going to be in the middle of it.

"I'll be on the first flight."
Their connection was severed, and Jensen blinked horror at the after image of his wife. Angels. Demons. War. He felt like he was going to faint.

He powered down the Wallet and hastily threw belongings into bags. It looked like he would be taking John up on his offer to relocate. Jessika couldn't be with him. It wasn't safe!

And though Jensen did need help, he doubted it was the kind Jessika had in mind.

Time flies when you are having fun. Rather when the Regus keeps you busy. The parchment had been translated sussed out emotionally. Aria hoped to never touch the thing again. One day the world would end, but Aria hoped it would never be in her lifetime. But the signs said other wise.

But meeting that mysterious man who could fling monsters around like they were leaves on the wind made Aria question her beliefs and teachings. How could something that had the morals to save another life be evil?

Sadly life moves on and the mysteries remain mysteries. Hunting was life. Aria was out hunting for something else this time. It wasn't a monster or a reborn god, but the elusive hacker.

It wasn't like she could put out an advertisement that said Looking for hacker to hack government issue goggles and a proprietary wallet system for integration for Atharim purposes.

Aria had been going to the underground making friends for nearly a week. It was easy to bribe those down on their luck. Food, money, new shoes whatever it was they needed Aria could get her hands on - with in reason of course.

She'd found a few boys who touted around computers. But they had already failed at the small little task Aria had asked of them, to find the specs for the goggles. Surely a hacker could get them. But these boys were nothing more than that - boys pretending to be hackers who knew little more than playing a video game or two.

Today was probably going to be her last meeting with them. Hopefully they had found something useful.

The boys were just more than teenagers, probably no more than 19 years of age. They were greased over from lack of showers or rather money. They both wore ragged leather shoes and oversized clothes. Hand-me downs in the worst shape possible but the boys were always in good spirits.

The taller of the two boys smiled when he saw Aria approaching. He had tried to wrap his arm around her and Aria deftly avoided him. She had gotten rather good at avoiding someone's touch, wanted or unwanted it was not something she needed right now. "Did you find something?"

The second lad shook his grease blonde hair emphatically yes. He spoke in a quiet voice, "Though I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." Aria was optimistic. It didn't pay to be half empty glass type of person.

The blonde boy smiled at her, "We found a web site. It has some resources that you might find useful." He handed Aria a peice of paper with a link neatly written on it.

Aria nodded, "I suppose that'll do." Aria handed the boys a small wad of cash. It wasn't much, but it was all she could manage right now until she had another hunt, her funds were rather limited. "Thanks. I'll see ya around."

The boys frowned disappointed. Aria turned and left, there was no point giving the boys any hope of any friendship. They had merely been a means to an end. Besides, they were nearly half her age.

Aria held the small snippet of paper in her hands and hoped that the website would show more promise.

((OOC anyone can jump in, no more plans for this thread))