A number of messages blinked in a rapid beat for attention when she limped into her apartment. The grey light of evening cast an unfamiliar gloom over the sterile furnishings; it was as far away from home as a place could feel. Her suitcase splayed where she had left it, untouched but for the clothes she had dug out before slipping out into Moscow's nightlife. And how well that venture had gone. For now she ignored her responsibilities in favour of getting clean, lingering a little too long under the stream of water and steam, trying not to let the lull unravel her calm. Such a list of ghosts these days, just waiting for that moment of weakness. The crusts softened from her arms, leaving long pink strips where she'd used the power to slash her bonds. The feel of those bonds lingered.

Later, she sat on the sofa with a mirror and steristrips and let the messages run through. There was a wound on her foot cutting between her toes and right into the pad, still oozing, the rest simply scrapes and bruising she ignored but for a layer of antiseptic. The whole thing stung like fuck now, but in some ways the pain stopped her mind from straying, and the precision of sealing the wound allowed her not to dwell too deeply on what she was hearing. The first message yesterday evening; her mother, checking she'd landed safely. Another this morning, still cheerful and discussing her registration. Two silent, in quick succession. Then one from Laurene that perked her ears, especially when it pinged a recording. She paused what she was doing as the holoscreen activated.

"Hi Natalie, just a quick message to say how're we're doing!"
The screen wobbled, filmed on a cheap smart phone, and suddenly blurred. Then Ekene's face filled the picture, teeth white and gappy. Laurene laughed as she instructed him to move it further back. He chattered away about his life the past few weeks, almost more words than she'd heard from him the entire time since Masiaka. Then he giggled. Giggled. Like a normal child. A ginger paw patted the boy's shoulder, and Shredder sprung up with a mewl, bumping her little face up against Ekene's cheek.

A smile softened Natalie's face, the first real one in what felt an age, but something like guilt tightened in her chest too. She shouldn't have left them, left her duties, left her life. All to go chasing after her father's summons, knowing it would cage her here but accepting the consequences anyway. Just for that chance. She hadn't even made the meeting; wasn't sure she could risk arranging another, not with her mother's scrutiny sharpened on her actions and the promises she'd yet to fulfil. After all this time what had he even wanted to say? He'd cut her out like she was nothing. Not even met her eye the day they led him out after sentencing. And she'd never forgiven him.

She played the holo again, melancholy the second time. Washing out the sorrow for having left Africa. Burying thoughts of her father. They looked well. They didn't need her.

Afterwards was another silent message. This time she paid attention, frowning, but it rolled quickly to the next: an official response to her registration that plummeted her stomach, requesting her to attend a meeting to discuss further. Then her mother's voice gradually losing tolerance and rising in worry. The last was not an hour before, simply a terse Call your mother. Not a war she wanted to wage tonight, but she did need to smooth things over. It wouldn't keep until morning.

The call connected after two rings.

"Where have you been?"


"Hello to you too."
She smirked grimly, piecing together an approximation of the truth; she didn't much relish lying, even if it might have been easier. "I over indulged my last night of freedom. That and the jetlag haven't made for a great combination. You should know better than to worry."


"Cut the sass. Please, Natalie. We have been worried."


"I know. I'm sorry."


The silence stretched an age. Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose, the words heavy as cement. She meant it, but admitting it cut too close to the quick. That coffee was wearing off and her mind fuzzed quietly. She had no intention of confiding, and the need to escape the conversation was suddenly overwhelming. She murmured something about needing to sleep. Vague promises to call tomorrow.

The lights had dimmed low. She raked the hair away from her face, skirting the weight in her chest. The worry was like miasma, underpinning everything else. Her feelings swirled. The aftershock of waking restrained. The crash and fall of hope, her father's face still a blank space. And the idiocy of one legionnaire admitting to murder. That bothered her more than it should. The hands that cupped hers in the hospital were rough, calloused, but gentle before they moved away. He killed to protect, but he still killed; it was soldier's due.

Danjou would care for his own, she didn't doubt it. And Jared would fight his corner. She had no real reason to interfere, and at least one why she shouldn't.

And yet.

And yet it made her restless, the anger deep, a thousand blurred hurts and a deep-seated desire to do something. The phone rang for a while and she began to wonder if it was just too late. When someone picked up it was with weary tones. He hadn't heard the name. No one had been brought in tonight. The receiver clicked silent

She spent another few hours cycling through an unfamiliar system, seeking answers. The business card Detective Vega had given her rested on the cushion beside her, but he would still be at the hospital with Nox. Or resting himself; by now it was late, and the city glittered like startlight beyond her windows. She laid back, staring up at the ceiling. Yet another call still on hold.

It seemed Jay Carpenter was gone.

Whatever games were being played Aria didn't want anything more to do with. Nox was a god. He should die! But he was a god. He would die but not today.

There were easier targets. And easier ways to get the weapons she needed to kill the gods. Those who killed Dane. She would find him. No matter what he thought to hide in the power, to mask who he was. Aria would find him.

There were safe houses around the world. Safe houses, with clothes, and food and weapons - weapons most of all. Her sword was still missing. ZARS agents were having a difficult time finding it. She had a feeling no one was even looking. Aria wanted her sword back!

But guns were better against gods. Though cutting someone open was far more fun, far greater a conquest. But gods were not close targets.

Aria knew of a safe house. It was quiet. She walked in and found a few friendly faces. They were wary and they should be. They offered her clothes and food and Aria gratefully took it.

The clothes didn't fit as well but the food was warm and edible and the bathroom had a large tub. Aria wanted to wash the blood from her skin. She wanted to drown in the blooded remains of her obsession. He was gone - forever. And this was all that remained of him. And it would wash down the drain like his ashes would when Nox was done with him.

Nox hadn't killed Dane. But he'd burnt the body insuring it! There was no fury at hit. No hatred no angst. Aria was done feeling things. But the gods and the Atharim would pay for their transgressions. All of them.... and when she was done here - they'd know the price...

Dreams. Nox hated dreams. He never had any good ones. They were always filled with death and failure and waking to nightmares was never fun. He'd chosen to sleep very little and drink lots of caffeine every day. He worked hard and tried to pass out. It rarely worked the nightmares still came.

They came even with the pain. His head felt better, but whatever they had jabbed him with made it all go away and he passed out into the darkness. But then the nightmares took hold. All his failures come to bear. Everyone from his mother and now even a new one - failing his father. Failing to be the son that he had wanted. It had always been there. Nox failing his father, but the images of Jaden and then Jay and Sage and shit the countless guys he'd seen and wondered then forgot because of his father.

Failure after failure played over and over again and as the pain came back the dreams died and sounds came to the forefront. Beeping and voices. Soft and close.

A rattled chain against metal. The sound rang as Nox tried to move. Opening his eyes hurt. Moving hurt, but he had to move. Sit up. "Water."
But little sound came out of his mouth.

Nox opened his eyes and found a glass of water held in front of him my a small hand. Nothing familiar. He looked up, blinked away the tears from the bright light behind the man, woman, who?

"Do you know where you are Mr. Durante?"

"Moscow I hope."


Things were coming into perspective and Nox pressed back into the bed and sighed when he felt the cold metal against his skin. "How long?"


"About 6 hours. We are treating the burns and your head CT came back clean despite the blood dried in your ears."

Nox rattled the cuffs again. "Where are the officers?"


"You have a guard outside your door, and Detective Vega went to the station to try to help your friend. His words."

And then the whole situation came crashing in. Jay had confessed to the murder of the stygza. Dumb ass! "Am I under arrest?"


"Not yet, Mr. Durante. This is a percaution we are told, you are dangerous." She said with a genuine smile.

Nox laughed. "Cuffs aren't going to stop me if I really was dangers, Duckling. Can they come off?"


She shrugged. "I'll ask, and I'll get the doctor. You hold tight."

Nox smirked, "Not going anywhere Duckling."

Continued from Spilled Drinks


Despite what the rumors in high school said, this was Jay's first experience in the back of a squad car. His hands were dormant, but wrenched behind his back hard enough to put his shoulder at a questionable angle. The interior of the car door was disturbingly flat. No handle to open. No arm rest jutting out. Just padding. Best not think about being locked in a box. He forced his gaze higher. As they departed the scene, the glow of red and blue flashes faded. The city seemed darker, now. This was no area of glittering towers or historical buildings. In fact, Jay had no idea poorer areas of Moscow even existed.

His memory swirled with the events of the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday he was excited by the prospect of a night out of uniform for once. Not that he wanted to leave it behind. It felt strangely wrong to walk around in a regular shirt and jeans, just as walking away from duty for a well-deserved night of freedom was wrong, but he did it anyway. Sane people took nights off. A concert was suppose to be fun.

Enter cannibal monsters. Jay had seen the worst of humanity. There were enough bodies at his feet to attest to it. Maybe he was one of them. But at least he was a monster that killed something worse. But cannibals. Right in the middle of chaos. If he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, he wouldn't believed it. Coincidence put Nox there. If anyone else sat the next seat over, Jay would have enjoyed this nice ride last night rather than delaying it a day.

The comings and goings of other police vehicles caught his eye. The car approached a precinct and a voice came over the intercom. Jay only barely heard it from his padded box. He shivered at that thought.

"Hinshaw. Come in."
"This is Hinshaw." The officer responded. Jay stretched his senses, listening.

"Reroute suspect to beta four thirty."
"Ten-four."

They sped away from the precinct and Jay looked over his shoulder as the building blurred by. He frowned. This wasn't boding well.

When he was eventually pulled from the vehicle and a black bag thrust over his head, he realized this may have been a bad idea.

Giovanni didn't see many people. With the exception of Aaliyah, he saw almost no one. Aaliyah alone knew his name as well. An air of mystery surrounded him and in some way that help draw people into this change that had surrounded their local branch of Al Janyar.

One exception was the man in the room with them. Giovanni didn't remember his name. All he really needed was the man's title anyone. He was a Captain that had served Ibrahim. He helped organize the troops for Al Janyar in Egypt. Now he was one of Giovanni's advisers.

"Overall, things are going well. There were a few dissenters. They have been appropriately dealt with."


Giovanni nodded. Aaliyah stood at his side as always. She was after all his voice. Most of the time he didn't speak to those who came to him. The Captain was an exception.

"Good,"
he said. "The troops will need to be prepared. They will go on a trip with my Priestess. We need to secure the other branches of Al Janyar."


The Captain looked perplexed. "I don't understand?"


Giovanni showed no emotion on his face. "For too long has this group not lived up to its potential. Fragmented leaders who have long feuded with each other. I will bring them together - and in that way, we will see our goal."


"We don't have enough - not enough to go abroad and protect our interests here."


Giovanni nodded. "Then we must find more - begin recruiting. Dismissed."


The man bowed his head and left.

"A scientist wanted to see you today - an archaeologist as a matter of fact."
Aaliyah said after he left.

Giovanni looked at her quizzically. "Why?"
Giovanni absentmindedly opened a book and began perusing it's pages.

"He worked for Ibrahim. Dr. Pierce is his name. Ibrahim was obsessed with finding rare items. For his prestige. He wanted to know if you wanted him to continue digging."


A picture caught Giovanni's eye. For reasons unknown, the image struck a chord within him. "What is this?"
Giovanni said, pointing at the picture.

"The Eye of Horus,"
she answered. "An ancient Egyptian symbol of protection, royal power, and good health, I believe."


Giovanni smiled. "Yes - tell your Dr. Pierce to keep working. And anything he finds with this symbol should be brought to me immediately."


Aaliyah bowed as she turned. "As you command."



Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Jan 12 2018, 02:48 PM.

Age: 22 (2046)
Origin: Madrid Spain
Occupation: Currently Studying Computer Engineering at Moscow University
Channeler: Adept
Power: 7/20
Reborn God: no

Personality:

Cruz is a spoiled rich kid who gets what he wants when he wants it. He’s smart and intuitive and despite his upbringing pulls straight As, maintains a part time job at Jivana (remote work while at MSU). He’s a bit of a snob.

Description:

Dark hair, blue eyes a spitting image of his father when he was younger. He likes to wear fashionable clothes and is always wearing the latest styles. Cruz has no tattoo or scars.

History:

Cruz was born of a nefarious plan by his father, Dorian Vega. A parentage that Cruz is well aware of since he turned 13 and his mother, Anastasia Vega, was Christian Rosario making out poolside at their home. It was a secret that he wasn’t supposed to know. At 13 Cruz had snuck out of classes and returned home to find them kissing poolside. Which opened the conversation about his father, his mother and their relationship.

Cruz had never questioned why his mother was kissing the hired help. But he always wondered why his father let it happen. It had all been very shocking for a 13 year old boy to comprehend, but his father was always busy and there was little time to think about it anyway with classes and his job at Jivana Corp, his grandfather’s medical technology business that he was heir to in lieu of his father.

Cruz had the very best that life could offer. Vacations anytime he wanted. The best toys, fancy cars when he was old enough to drive. Dorian bought him anything he wanted because he was never around. Christian was more of a father than Dorian had ever been.

The most adventurous thing Cruz had ever done in his life is move to Moscow with his father. He hadn’t moved because he wanted to be with him, but he wanted to be away from his grandfather. He still wanted the VP position in RnD and he still wanted to run Jivana one day, but he wanted to be free of the pressure Emilio Vega put on him day in and day out. Cruz had no doubts as to why his father never chose the life.

The world was every changing. And Cruz was at the heart of the change - Moscow. He’d known it when he came there that his life would be different. He hadn’t realized how much. It was finals. He and his friends were tired. They’d studied hard. Dealt with things only college kids deal with. All nighters for weeks on end studying to get those grades.

And then Cruz fell sick. No idea why, but he was on his death bed. His father was panicking. It was obvious when he had found him lying in the stacks of the library. And then a fellow cop came to him. Helped him to understand it. And While Ivan had taught him to touch the power, it was another who taught him how to use it. Nox was unconventional. He understood nothing about it he only played with it till it did something. There was nothing scientific about it. But it got the job done. And what Nox could teach him his father hated - all the more reason to learn it.

His knowledge was not even half of what Nox’s was. But Nox taught him that experimenting was alright, just be careful. He expressed that increasingly as Cruz learned.

[[Character story from Jacinda Cross biography]]

[[Narrative continued from Spilled Drinks]]]

The rest of the night and the next day were slow going. Yeah. Understatement of the year. She tried to help the others with the unloading and figuring out what to do with Stephan. But she had trouble focusing. Annemarie and the other squints were all freaked out. She was tired and didn't have the energy to bring everyone down. She hoped Yoshi would do it when they met up. He was far more chill and zen anyway.

Everytime she tried to move, her lower back spasmed in pain to the point that she had to freeze just to breathe. She had to admit, she wasn't 20- or even 30- anymore. She was gonna have to start being more careful. It had been a brutal take down. She was bruised all over her back and arms, though it was the lower back pain that got all her attention. They'd lost people. But hopefully it was worth it. Dead God. Actual god. Not some dumb kid.

Normally, she'd celebrate. I mean seriously celebrate. Go out for drinks. Maybe find someone to blow off some steam with. But she was hurt. She hesitated to go to a doctor. She wasn't sure she was on anybody's radar and with them being outed and all- and the fucking Atharim registration, of all things. What kind of idiot would even think to do that?- she kinda wanted to go to ground. Hole up and think. Lick her wounds.

And heal. This was the hard part about being part of a team. The down time together. She'd been alone for a long time, able to come and go as she pleased. Most of the time she was good either way. But when she was tired, when she needed to recharge, it was tough to be around others. Small talk was stupid.

So finally she was able to break away. She still was wearing her clothes from the attack yesterday. Changing hadn't appealed to her at the time. Just get everything done and get out. She felt trapped, with them.

She had gotten Annemarie calm enough to at least find her a quiet safehouse to head to. There would be medical supplies if she needed it. And pain killers. And the greatest one, a nice cold beer or something.

She limped along until her wallet indicated her ride had come. The destination was in the Enlightened District, not too far from where the mansion had been. That turned her stomach. She and Yoshi and Hood and the others were proceeding along as if nothing had changed. And in some ways, that was true. The fight was always gonna be there.

But the Regus was gone, burned to death in the fire. She wasn't sure what that meant for the Atharim, as a group. She was dropped off a couple blocks away- no record of her destination on any system, obviously- and she carefully made her way.

So....the Atharim. Would it be more like it was back home in the US, now? Less organized? In some ways, that would be better. Hunting for creatures didn't require a lot of people- a small team was usually fine, if not one person.

But these returned gods? They needed more weapons. And they needed a lot more people. And strategy. That much she had learned.

She palmed the door- glad the security cloud was redundantly replicated where ever it was- and entered.

She stopped. Every place had a feel. Something in the air. The way it moved, the way it smelled. Even the way it responded to you.

Someone was here. Atharim, of course. Well, probably. She unholstered her gun- she wasn't up to swinging her staves. God she hoped she didn't have to fight. Twisting might just make her cry in pain. And not in the good way either, like the pain when you were really sore and stretched out or when you were getting inked.

"Hello?"
she called out as she carefully moved past the front entrance- purposely designed to funnel in case of attack. She wanted out of that kill zone, if there was trouble.


Edited by Jacinda, Jan 24 2018, 12:33 PM.

Dr. Kinnaird said she'd see him later. He and Christian were left alone in the room watching the news flying across the screen. Sage hated watching the news it was depressing and the anchors only told you what someone else thought you needed to know. Sage wanted to know what was going on behind the scenes.

He'd reached for the processor several times but stopped as soon as he felt the whirr of the processor kicking into gear. He sighed. "A lot harder than it should be."


"What is?" Christian asked.

"Not doing what comes naturally."


The other man smiled and stood up with his bag and pulled out Sage's laptop. "I figured you'd want this." He started to hand it to Sage but Christian pulled it away quickly. "Only if you promise you won't connect to it. Only typing."

Sage sighed. "How are you going to know?"


Christian looked over at the monitors that were above his bed. "Up there, when you use it your brain activity goes off the chart."

Sage sighed. "Dr. Kinnaird will know when I do and then I can't go home."


Christian nodded. "Promise, Sage. I won't leave it here with you otherwise. I need to get back."

"I promise."


Christian smiled then came over to him and patted his shoulder. "All of you boys are like family. Don't do anything stupid Sage. None of us will forgive you. And then you'll have to explain to Ana, why you did what you did."

Sage knew he had paled a little at that thought. He'd never had a mother who had cared. But Ana was taking the cake and eating it too. Cruz was lucky to have Ana and Christian in his life. He guessed he was too now.

Christian set the laptop on the table in front of him and waved his farewell. Sage was left alone with the one thing he wanted more than anything - information.

Jensen barely squeezed out of the subway car. A big folded sign smacked him in the shoulder. He grunted, but the man holding it hurried away. The platform was packed with people trading places on and off the train. "Are you going to the Patheos rally?" The man stuck in people alongside him asked.
"Yes,"
he replied quietly.
"Me too." The stranger added, but they were quickly separated before Jensen could follow.

He made it to the surface, only to find a cold rain had begun to fall. It gathered into puddles wherever the sidewalk dipped and soaked the lower hem of his pants. It didn't seem like a spring day, but he would never get used to Moscow's weather patterns.

It was a long wait in a line full of wet, cold people. He waited in line behind Jewish men, identified by the kippah pinned to their hair. A glance over his shoulder, only moments after he got in line, and a dozen others had already joined. Among them was a well-dressed young man in a black and white suit Jensen would bet was a mormon. A gentleman of color was dressed in the long tunic of a Hindu, his hair also wrapped modestly. In strange contrast, a couple stood behind him that at first glance seemed completely ordinary, but the longer Jensen looked, the woman's boho skirt and crystal necklace and the man's loose jacket and headband made Jensen wonder if they were pagan.

The line moved more swiftly than he thought it would, and soon he was at the front. He paid the small fee, registered his name and went through the pat-down and scanner without incident.

He shook the water from his coat and hair. The stadium was covered, thankfully.

It seemed the steps leading to the field were endless. A brief scan found no available seats.

A familiar voice came up beside him, "I see you made it."
Jensen recognized the man from the subway platform. He had neatly styled hair and was cleanly-shaven. His wool coat was as soaked as Jensen's.

"I was almost swept away in the flood out there, but yes, I made it."
He smiled slightly.

They both studied the field below. Stages were set up. Wide platforms were set up with a number of empty chairs. A wide sign illuminated the word Patheos behind it. Jensen wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but the time slot for the rally indicated the speakers were on a break.

"What brings you to the rally?" The gentleman inquired.

Jensen wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. Patheos was an online community of every major religion in the world. Their rally at a Moscow sports' stadium was to talk about the meaning of all the changes in the world of recent, and the impact it had upon the spiritual world.

He took a deep, thoughtful breath. "Guidance? Answers? Perspective? Maybe it's none of those things."
He shrugged.

"I know what you mean." He agreed. It seemed Jensen wasn't the only lost soul out there. The stadium was filled with thousands of them. He offered a handshake, "Sigvard Viggo," he introduced himself and the name matched his northern european accent.

"Jensen James,"
he replied and reluctantly shook hands.

Sigvard nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Pastor."

Jensen sighed. He should have provided a fake name after all. "A pleasure to meet you too."



Edited by Jensen James, Jan 6 2018, 11:46 AM.

Li saw the press release sitting at the top of his wallet. He had a dilemma to deal with now. He was a god. He was Atharim, and now the Ascendancy was calling for registration for all 'gods' and the Atharim.

Both forms sat staring at him on his laptop while he sat in his hotel room at the Ritz. It was not an easy decision. Signing up for magic registration meant outting himself to the Atharim. But if he signed up on the Atharim he'd have to be interviewed and potentially judged on his choice of work. But if he didn't to the latter he would forever be worried about getting caught as a terrorist.

Registering for both would save some hardships he thought to himself. But it was a hard decision. He had thought long and hard on the situation and it seemed his fingers were acting without hesitation as he typed up his magic registration. But his finger hovered over the button before he moved on to the other form.

Li sat and stared at the forms and pressed submit and turned off his computer. This could end his career he had to tell his agent.