Visceral clips of a brutal fight spread across the internet.  Gore added for special affected made it all the more surreal.  That was the first edit.

A second video made the scene with the first fight -- same guy being bloodily beaten except this time he's winning and flinging the much larger fighter across the caged area with ease.

A third video reemerged from the depts of the internet when a connection was made.  A low watch count of a burlesque show of the insestual Egyptian love story between twin gods.  Comments connecting the three videos pulled it from the depths and the view count rose... "Was this the same man?"

The program billet for Kallisti showcased a new show -- The story of Hades and Persephone -- the name Nox scribbled across the billet with the other stage names.  

The connections were made and collage videos emerged.  The fights and the dance merging together to form horrific scenes of the uses of power.  Others edited music and pushed the beauty of the power.  It was a war of violence and beauty from both sides of the line.  Those for the channelers -- those against them.  

But the one thing it did was boost sales of online tickets for Kallisti opening Night!  

Nothing was the same after coming back from the tunnels.  Allan had a taste for battles before, it wasn't like they hadn't gone on missions before with Vellas.  But this was different.  There was never any real threat to his life before this fight.  Those things didn't care if we lived or died -- they prefered us dead if anything.  And Nox and his infinite wisdom had seen to all their precautions because he'd understood the monsters they fought.  He was arrogant and Allan wanted to hate him, but he didn't think hating him because he was good at his job was exactly the most logical thing to do.  But he at the Ascendancy's ear and that irked him most!

But he had to push all that aside and return to the day to day life of one of the nine.  The boring training.  The routine drills.  The patrols.  The one off missions here and there.  It all seemed very mundane after battling with others like him in an all out fight for his life.  There were other monsters in the world -- he wanted to hunt them -- kill them.  It almost drove him to pick up the bottle again.  It pained him to sit idle.

Allan took on anything and everything he could to keep his idle hands busy.  Including sneaking visits to the Ascendancy's chambers to read the book the Atharim had lost the day they attacked Nikolai Brandon.  It made Allan smile that he had something no others did -- access to this volume.  But that was another days reading -- today he was to meet a man -- a specially trained man and give him a tour of the place.  And to be of whatever service he could be.  He had become a glorified babysitter.  He hoped it was more to othat.  But he'd rather be doing things elsewhere.  But he waited for the man at the entrance to the underground facility.  Someone would show him the way here.

“I made it!” she sent a message to Evelyn once the private plane touched down. Colette had only visited Dominance VII a few times on holiday. The Moreaus loved to visit the islands in particular. Never had she visited so far east, nor would she have imagined having a reason to do so.

Moscow held her in awe. She’d practically been glued to the window the last hour. For a girl raised in New York City, she should not have been so impressed, and she did everything she could to remain aloof. But she watched the sprawling land roll beneath the plane like she’d never glimpsed anything before.

When Evelyn told her that her work was going to have to be carried out in Moscow, Colette could not have been more skeptical. After a week of Evelyn’s persuasion, Colette consented to the plan. In truth, she knew that if she found the efforts fruitless, it would be easy to simply return home. She was giving the CCD a chance as much she was here to shape a new type of society.

It would be the middle of the night for Evelyn, so Colette did not expect a quick response. She sent similar messages to her family. It had been an effort to convince her parents to let her go. She wouldn’t have completely disobeyed their wishes, but it was certainly preferable to have their blessing.

Colette climbed from the car into the Moscow evening air. The city block reminded her of 5th Avenue, but the street was sparkling clean in comparison. There were no homeless to be seen. Everyone looked impeccable, although for this time of day, she was unsurprised that they were primarily dressed for business. The second she exited the vehicle, men in valet uniforms approached to take the many pieces of luggage. After swiping each an appropriate tip, she took a moment to study the buildings themselves.

For a girl born and raised in Manhattan, she was rather taken aback. The skyline was marvelous, but the buildings were higher and more fantastical than anything in Manhattan. No new high rises had gone up in the last twenty years, and one project on Central Park South was altogether abandoned unfinished. It was breath-taking.

The building that she entered was a hotel as far as she understood. It was owned by someone that she had never heard of but was apparently trustworthy enough to send her toward. Her family estate had arranged for a long-term occupancy until she found something more suitable. For now, she was content to sweep inside and be swallowed up by the new adventure.

“Why are you using that crap one?” His companion, Jim, squinted and held his hand over his eyes to block out some of light as he looked over. They had come to port and while most were gallivanting about, Jim and Leon were too frugal, and preferred to spend as little money as they could. They took over a table a ways down the pier, but each busied themselves with their own things.

<Transcript of a video recently posted to The Ascendant News Network’s website.>

“Good evening, Moscow. This is Mila Babanin, culture correspondent for the Ascendant News Network, and we are joining you live tonight from outside the Kallisti, where a large crowd has formed. We were surprised to find that the rich and the famous have come out in a show of force to this modest nightclub for a night of dancing and drama.

Infamous rockstar turned author, Aiden Finnegan, was seen arm in arm with an unknown, dark-haired man. Recent sightings of the reclusive celebrity have mentioned this same man, stirring whispers of a suspected relationship between the two of them. Ascendant News Network has not been able to confirm the identity of this mystery man that Aiden Finnegan has seemingly entangled himself with.

Indeed, the rumors were all but confirmed when local playboy, Jaxen Marveet, met with Aiden outside of the club – calling the mystery man an ‘ex-lover’ of Aiden’s. Marveet made headlines in the past months with his own one-night cabaret. Aiden Finnegan was reportedly in attendance to that same show. Was that night the beginnings of an enticing love triangle?

Shortly thereafter, a surprising display of lights and vocal tricks served to remind us of that night. Jaxen Marveet and the crowd surrounding him were covered in a strange red glow as blue flames erupted above the playboy’s head. The Ascendant News Network has to ask was this the display of a God? Indeed, reports from Marveet’s one-night cabaret seem to corroborate this theory.

We would like to remind our viewers that this is not a confirmed fact about Jaxen Marveet.

Jaxen was then seen kissing Aiden on the red carpet, causing our mystery man to lash out and storm off from the entangled duo. Aiden returned the kiss before loudly telling Marveet that the two men would have to fight for his affections. The pair entered the venue separately amidst whispers and flashing cameras.

We were unfortunately turned away at the door, and so we will be waiting eagerly outside the venue for further developments on this steamy romance. Aiden Finnegan and a God? The Ascendant News Network will be the first to tell you.

I’m Mila Babanin for the ANN, thanking you for watching. Tune back in later tonight for a post-show update.

<End transcript.>


 
<Comment section below.>

[[Continued from Don't Belong Here, at Almaz]]

His head was pounding. A groan, and Jay snatched a pillow to smother his own face. The room couldn’t be dark enough, he thought, wincing at the curtains. There was some button somewhere that shadowed the glass behind them, but fuck if he knew where to find it. So he buried his face in the pillow and drifted. The next time he opened his eyes, the wish had come true. It was coffin-dark. A good solid coffin like the kind his brothers and sisters were shipped home in. Sealed up. Peaceful.

He waved his arm over the side-table. The clink of bottles sang their song in return. Eventually, he found one that sounded duller than the rest and put it to his lips. A tangy liquid passed his tongue. The fuck? he pulled it back to study the label. The hell did this come from? He hadn’t tasted Pimm’s since he was a teenager. Got wasted on it at 16 at a barn party. It looked like blood when it came back up, he remembered. Freaked a lot of them out at first.

So at some point in the last, uhh, however long it had been, he found a bottle of Pimm’s? After some flopping to the edge of the mattress, he stared, realizing all the empty bottles were from the same fruity-based gin. Now that, uhh, one way to party, he supposed, and pinched his eyes shut, trying to remember.

He remembered lots of spinning. After leaving Almaz, every time he closed his eyes, it felt like riding a tilt-a-whirl while tripping on PCP. Which meant he kept his eyes open and fixed dead ahead. On whatever. Seven tried to make him go to a doctor. But that was definitely passed over in exchange for finding a real strip-club. Then the awkward conversation about which gender of dancers he preferred. Meaning, there were plenty of guys who pulled off some looks better than others. Including Seven. He vaguely remembered them talking about shirts? Not quite what exactly. But it had been fascinating and hilarious at the time. But he opted for the regular old fashioned traditional type of strip club. Pretty sure. And rolling to the side, he realized why. There it was, a bit of black lace left on a pillow. Caught? Bought? Definitely something. Had the girl that wore it been there? Or did he just come away with a trophy? Creepy.

He looked down at himself then. Yep. Buck ass naked. Seemed about right. Not so much as a sheet in sight. Kicked off or tore off, he wasn’t sure. But the only thing that was sore was his head. So most likely had been the girl. He grumbled and sat up, rubbing his scalp. Not like it was the first time there were holes punched through bad memories. Unlikely to be the last. Probably didn’t do anything weird. Just normal stuff. Right?

The door was shut. The window dark. Not from the button but because it was fucking night. Probably not the same night, he assumed, and padded away to find the bathroom. The second he flipped on the light, he regretted it. But the mirror powered up enough to display the date and reflect a piss-poor image of a man back at him.

He stared at the display. Two days. It’d been two days since stirring out of the coma of the last binger. He’d gone downstairs for food. Met a Viking dude. Pounded his fist on Nox’s face at Almaz. At least his hand didn’t hurt anymore. Naked girls. Actually, he rather wished he remembered more of the naked girls. Then… nothing. Except apparently Pimm’s. Where the hell did the Pimm’s come from?

He powered up the shower and gave up trying to remember.

The wallet was on the floor, kicked almost under the furniture. He regretted bending down to get it. The spinning wanted to return, and he opted to fall into a chair to hold him while scanning it for evidence of his life the past few days.

There were pictures. Ones that probably felt steamy hot at the time but now made him cringe. Seven was in some of them. Two girls he didn’t recognize. Deleted those immediately. The messages weren’t much better.

Then he found one near the bottom of the queue.
”Pancakes” it read. The time stamp from the morning before. A pin on a map.

Goddammit. He opened the thread. Almost not able to look.
A fucking string of incoherent responses. From video loops of funny breakfast moments. To a picture of his bloody hand. To a mention of making Cayli chocolate chip pancakes. That hurt. They scrolled a long time.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The hangover flopping his stomach sick.
I am so sorry. I was fucking drunk out of my mind, he sent the first coherent message in return. I would kill for pancakes right now. Please come. After hitting send, he regretted the particular phrase. Since she’d seen him actually kill people. Probably bad choice of words there.

He almost hated to see what the rest of the suite looked like. Some time later, towel wrapped around his hips, he hoped some snacks had been left behind with the bottles. And that Natalie would answer fast.

The suite was the same one in Adrian Kane’s hotel. It was shockingly clean. Didn’t look anything like the bedroom. A plate of fruit and pastries waited on a table. Along with a bottle of tylenol and salt tabs. Had housekeeping been in while he was passed out? Also kind of creepy, but whatever. He shrugged and opted to swallow a handful of pills before anything else.

“Feeling better?” a voice asked.

The bottle flew out of his hand like an erupting white volcano. He jumped and turned.

[[ anyone is welcome to join. I'll let you deal with timelines I know mine  ]]


Nox sat in his former room spraying Lily with water to clean the dust from her petals and leaves. Probably was fine, but he wanted a mundane task to keep him busy. His normal distraction when he was nervous wasn’t there — nor had he heard from him in a while. He tried not to think about Raffe, but it was hard not to. ”I hope he’s okay.” Nox said to his flower.

A voice in the back of his head said. Maybe you should get used to wondering. He’s done with you anyway. That was his father speaking. He heard the sneer in his voice and the hatred of what he’d become. His father would have hated him dancing at Kallisti. It was a good thing he was dead.

Nox shook his hands to shake out the anxiety. Center of attention — that wasn’t hard. Center of the spot light — that’s different. He’d danced once for people and it went well. A second time should be no different. Except he had invited people. And Raffe wasn’t there. There was no pretending he was dancing just for him. Though he knew he’d do that, anyway. That’s where his courage came from. And he was okay with that.

The lounge was busy, the show itself was still setting up and he’d made his final preparations for the illusions and had to get into his first costume.

Mandy and Mae had fun putting together the greek roaring 20s outfit he wore now. The hat was his favorite bit — it neatly covered the flaming blue hair he now wore — sans the glitter the girls wanted to throw about his person. I think not!

Nox smiled at his reflection. The toga like trousers would be removed for the second act in lieu of the shorter version that would be more prominent in the greek gods era. It was a classy mobster suit if you were a Greek god mobster. He rather liked the look. The girls loved it. Juls’ Zeus costume for the first act was beautify the white and golds were perfect.

Now he only had to wait for show time. Yeah, he wasn’t nervous. He kept telling himself that.

[[ I'm done with my speed posting.  I'll wait for a good bit if ya'll need to finish something up and want to join let me know and I can hold off.  I'm not in a rush -- but Nox is, but we have other things to do write to entertain the muse. ]]