Victoria had flown one time in her life before this. That was to Jerusalem, to be stationed down in Dominance V. That was, of course, disregarding various flights in military planes and aircraft. Those has been loud and hot with different men shouting down her earpiece. None of that here, fortunately. It wasn't even that long ago, only a few years, yet it seemed more along a decade, at the very least. Then again her whole life felt like that now. A year and two months since the Third's stand at Amman. Almost a year to the day channelling. A month since the cave with that... thing. It was enough to make her head spin. It was hard enough getting past being a Colonel, and having just turned twenty four. Now she was on a plane to meet with General Bader Koertig in Moscow; and in First Class, no less. First class was weird. She had her own seat, an actual comfortable one, and someone had brought her champagne. When was the last time she had champagne? Sipping from the glass reminded her why it had been so long, and she sat it down with a grim twist to her mouth. Memories of choking down the bubbly drink at her promotion dinner surfaced, accompanied by frozen smiles for all the other officers shaking her hand. She'd still been in shock at that point.

She didn't belong here. Looking around, Victoria sunk further into her seat at another look at her fellow passengers. All of them were dressed... well. Dresses, some in suits. Expensive, tailored clothes, jewellery that probably cost more than her annual wage. Victoria had just wanted to dress comfortably for the long flight, knowing she'd arrive in freezing cold Moscow when they landed. Fur lined boots, leggings, and her leather jacket over a long sleeved top. Simple. Stanko could have told her he'd arranged First Class. Still, she'd have to thank the old man. He'd taken in the list of names she'd sent too. Agh, thinking about that made her think of the speech shed had to give to the regiment, and she didn't want to dwell on that. Victoria had teetered on the edge of professionalism there. She was going to miss them.

Getting on board to her first class eat had been trouble enough. Her hand strayed to the holster under her jacket. Well what did they expect her to do! Leave it in her bag? At least Victoria had the grace to approach the airport guards and explain that she had a gun on her. When they had, probably understandably, overreacted she couldn't even touch it to use her power to calm their nerves. That would probably have gotten her shot. The proof of her rank had snapped them to attention instead, and after a short discussion, she'd been ushered on board, firearm still hidden under her clothes. Even if they had made her put it under her shirt too. The real confusion had started when they had gently driven her to the front of the plane. Victoria hoped her baggage was actually in the plane after the confusion. It was absolutely terrible of her admittedly, but one bag was just filled with rugs. In her defence they were beautiful craftsmanship and she wasn't leaving them behind. It was... an excusable memento. Sure. Go with that.

Before she could start grumbling to herself, Victoria stopped that. Here she was on a First Class flight, going to personally meet with the General of the Ground Forces, and all that she could do was find reasons to complain. Opa would have her skin tanned for that rudeness. She gave a small smile to herself at the thought of her bustling grandfather; she could just see his great, grey moustache twitching away in her head. He'd be proud of her, if she ever found the time to go home. His little cadet, all grown up. Eyes fluttering closed, Victoria let out a small yawn, snuggling back into the cushioned seat. Four hour flight. May as well catch up on some of the rest that had been nonexistent over the past few days.

Tracking wasn't hard, not when you knew the signs. As far as Seth was concerned, in that way the creepy ass tunnels under Moscow might as well have been tall grasses in New Mexico. It'd taken more than a little effort to shake the damn kids Reggie'd saddled him with. Hell, Seth guessed he should've been impressed with that. The little bastards were learning. Granted, most of that was probably just Fridge doing his computer wizardry. Damn cameras,
Seth thought. The forests and mountain ranges in the US where monsters preferred to hide usually didn't have security.

When Seth found his way into the Undercity, or whatever the hell the locals called it, it was mostly just boredom. He needed to think, and it turned out that when you couldn't take a walk in the woods on account of all the concrete, a tunnel that smelled like piss and poor people worked just fine instead. But then, as he went deeper, he started seeing the signs. Claw marks on the walls, animal bones and carcasses torn apart like a rabid mountain lion went hunting. And that smell... not the piss and poor people; something worse. When Seth realized the last other person he'd seen shuffling around was more than ten minutes ago, he wasn't surprised. He was also damn glad his sunglasses had a land warrior setup; Seth flicked on the night vision.

"Well, I'll be damned,"
Seth muttered to himself, "They've got fuckin' Oni runnin' loose down here."
He considered calling in the boys for a moment, but then he looked around. Flexed a couple muscles because damn if he didn't look good for his age. My age?

He had a few magazines stashed in his jacket, and his daddy's 1911 never left his side. A good .45 could put down a bear if you hit it in the right spot, so he damn well wasn't worried about Bigfoot's actually existing cousin. Even if that all failed, the Bowie knife was in its spot on his belt.

Seth tipped his hat back and took a breath. Fuck it, this was gonna be good for him. The old tunnels were a crisscross of what looked like centuries of Russians wanting to move shit around the city without worrying about sunlight. Explains why they're all so God damn pale.


Seth traced his way along the tunnels, and the Oni weren't exactly hiding. A clawed footprint in decades old dust here, a splatter of blood a week old there, and... Hello.



About thirty feet up, Seth could see a break in the tunnel wall. He hugged the wall and inched forwards slowly, daddy's pistol drawn and pointed straight ahead. As he got closer, the signs that he'd found what he was looking for got clearer. There'd been a lot of false trails Seth'd had to back off from, but judging by the fresh trail of blood coming down the tunnel ahead and turning into the hole, there was a pack of Oni on the other side of the wall.

Now, shit. All I've gotta do is catch me some trophies.



Edited by Seth Marx, Oct 4 2016, 01:28 AM.

Manix needed a break. A break from research, a break from training, a break from channeling. He decided to walk down to the docks to scout out new property for the expatiation of the fleet heading his way. He needed more dock room, storage facilities and Guard houses. He smiled, some break, but he walked slow.

The Lir Compound look amazing from the outside and complimented the mansion perfectly. The rest of the neighborhood was in shambles. "The Kid" a Jr Marine had reported back to him that the contractor's workers lived in poor housing conditions. They had seen too much of Manix's power and he had set up a health care clinic as a bribe, but now he was thinking of doing more.

Manix wanted to follow in the example of his father, Larson Lir', whom used part of the early fortune to build housing for those in need upon the isle of Mann. and within a few years he commanded the locality of the whole Isle simple with generosity. Manix would do the same for this neighborhood.

Manix pulled out his wallet and tapped out a quick message to Chief: "Chief please buy up all property within a 12 square block radius of compound, or within main street/highway arteries. I'll take care of the contractor."
With that done Manix let his mind rest and enjoy the pleasant walk to the river side docks.

Ana had kicked all the men to the basement. Cruz and Christian were downstairs doing whatever it was that Nox had been teaching her son. Ana didn't want to know the dangerous things that boy was teaching her son, but Cruz was definitely becoming a different man. Not cocky persay, but more confident in his natural born abilities. He'd always been gifted - now he was doubly so. The idea that her son came with these powers scared her - they frightened Dorian even more. She'd found her husband pacing the halls of the third floor that morning, she'd invited him into her sitting room and they talked. Christian had set an alarm for 4am and had gotten to work early. But Ana knew that it was because the new young man in their care was up at 4am and already working downstairs in the basement.

Dorian left then to catch a few hours of sleep before he was off in the morning as well. Ana's day was planned to the fullest. There was a great deal of redecorating that would be done and today she hoped that the little wolf girl would help with Nox being away. Cruz was going back to school so Nox would be away.

Ana sat in the kitchen waiting for the only other female body in the house to join her. Ana sipped at her coffee and nibbled at her egg white omelet. When the girl walked in Christian set coffee and a plate of breakfast on the seat next to Ana's and then left the kitchen for some much needed girl talk. Ana smiled. "How did you sleep, Elyse? Your boy was up early again."

It had been a shitting month - all starting with his house blowing up. Now magic was real, he was likely on the most wanted listed for the Atharim as a traitor - not even a god just a plain old traitor, Nox wasn't sure which was worse. Betraying everything he knew and loved for strangers and Aria. Aria dragged him with her but he'd made this choice before he understood what Aria would do and where she'd take him.

But it was that one event that he was remembering today. Nox had woken up early as always and found himself in the basement running through forms and dancing his way to oblivion. He remembered the fight with Bas in his own dojo back in the warehouse. Nox was going to miss his friend. Though he wasn't lacking in friends at the moment. Christian had kept him company until about 6am when he went back up to the kitchen. He'd at least have a friend in the so-called butler of the house.

But Christian wasn't just a butler from the interactions he'd seen with him and Dorian. Friends, brothers - there was a lot more to their relationship than employer and employee. At 8am Nox send Pytor a message from his old phone telling him to meet him at Kallisti in the Red Light District. One thing that had always stuck with Nox about Bas as his after battle plans - and this was the closest thing he could come to it. "Let's remember Bas in a place he would have loved." It wasn't about the girls - not really, it was honoring Bas' last memory. And Nox knew he'd been there often he'd seen Bas' file at the end. It was the last place he'd been before he died.

Nox had told Christian where he was going and he said Ana would keep Elyse busy while he was away. Nox frowned knowing that what Ana wanted to do was not likely to be something an Atharim would enjoy - girl or not. But he thanked his friend and let Elyse know. It wasn't a big deal, he told her where he was going and why. He wasn't asking permission but she'd said it was okay to go - have fun. Nova stayed with Christian. Dorian had no problem with the puppy and Ana had scooped him up and covered her little blue dress in dog hair and only laughed about it.

Cruz went to class and Nox was introduced as his friend. Though the guys Cruz hung with were all the brainy types they all seemed like good guys. But his morning and afternoon were boring and the classes he attended were way over his head. School was so not his thing.

By the time 7pm rolled around and Nox was walking into Kallisti he'd had a full on boring day. He looked around and didn't see his friend yet so he took a seat in a booth and waited. When the waitress came around Nox smiled at her. "I'll just have a bottled beer - whatever is cold."
He didn't even ask for it unopened. This was about Bas not about showing off.

As Damien specifically asked to be excluded from interactions with the Lirs, Elias did not beg him to come along. In fact, he was all too eager to leave the golden haired man behind. The weather was slowly warming, but for a born and raised Utah bred Mormon, Elias was still nestled in thick layers of leather, his outermost coat trailed all the way to his boots. They left heavy footsteps as he trailed the sidewalk, seeking the address in a neighborhood that should have made him uncomfortable. Anyone that thought to approach was given a long, black, shadowy-stare even as he grasped the power of Rage into his mind. He let it fill him, Rage, until the violence flickered across his features, daring anyone to think to try something. With the beautiful, young Asha in his company, more than a handful seemed to think about it, but a mere glance at Elias and they backed off. For such a skinny kid, he was far too confident. With the powers of Rage on everyone's tongue, people were wary. Nobody knew who the next wielder would be. There was more Rage could do than melt buildings with one's mind.

He craned his neck back, studying the massive construction site, and pushed piles of black hair aside. Thick as a blanket, it fell from his eyes. He knew the Lir family was involved in shipping and he saw the release of their newly allowed private navy. So he assumed the construction was related to industry. Odd that it was based out of Moscow, so far from the sea. Damn, so far from the sea. But these days, who cared. Moscow was filled with weirder stuff.

He glanced at Asha, shrugged and approached the door. He was not wielding Rage as he did. He tended to leave cracks in the cement in his footsteps when walking and Rage toyed from his mind. He was sharp, though, eager. He was finally about to get answers. After all this time searching.

He knocked, loudly.

CCD Dominance II has released, surprisingly, news that they have issued The Lir Family Industries, Larson Lir CEO, A permit to convert 3 Defensive ships into "Jager class" warships. These 3 Destroyers will be used to combat the increasing pirate activity accosting the Lir' family and many other seas merchants.

Larson Lir's son, Fleet Captain Manix Lir will head up the fleet while Captain SynJyn Quick will lead the sea and ground special operations teams, nick named The Vikings.

Details of the permit includes 3 "Jager class" Destroyers, 200 maximum troops, limited to weaponry of less than 1 mile range and no armed assets within 1 mile of the Kremlin. The Lir' family released this statement.

"This fleet and it's more than special crew are a primary defensive force of every ship that float these waters and to fill a gap that the CCD does not have time to cover. Under current standard operating procedures the fleet will not engage in any offensive activity. They will only respond to direct threats to the Lir family and/or other legal shipping merchants. Any and all questions should be directed to Fleet Captain Manix Lir'"

While a surprising move by the CCD, which hold no direct line of command over this navy, the success or failure could set a new president in private Milita.


Edited by Manix, Oct 2 2016, 08:29 PM.

A couple days after the video was released by the Lir navy of the sea creature, marine biologists around the globe were up in arms over its authenticity. Elias, having a full semester of study as a marine biologist major, vaguely followed the chatter online. But it was through his uncle's wallet, still logged into to the various research journals and forums in the field, that he was able to track specifics.

Barely a few percentages of the whole ocean had been explored. The primary argument was whether such a beast could have existed all this time without being encountered, if so, where has it made its home, how old was it, and were there more of them. What did it hunt? Where did it roam? Or was it all an elaborate hoax?

Elias knew the truth. He felt it in his gut.

He sent messages to the Lir's as soon as he found their contact information.

Quote:<dl>
<dt>Message</dt>
<dd> </dd>
</dl>


"I believe you. I need to speak with Captain Syn jyn as soon as possible. That beast killed my uncle and I believe the New Zealand government covered it up. I'm in Moscow, but I'll go anywhere in the world to talk to him.

-Elias Donovan"

Six awful hours. Little truly scared her, but the thought of her feet so far from the ground stuck an uneasy knot in her belly; one that did not unfurl until her boot heel touched soil. She drowned in music for most of the flight, tapping her fingers restlessly against her thigh. Conversation with the man next to her proved fruitless; he produced a compact laptop and barely stopped typing the entire trip. She could have closed her eyes, sought solace in the Dream, but her senses were too fraught to relax into vulnerability; her subconscious determined that she should not be caught senseless.

Customs pawed over her scant baggage -- the security here was a tightly coiled spring, and something about her face clearly sparked suspicion. They poked about the skin and bone fragment curiously, and Tenzin stifled the urge to bite the man's hand clean off for the way he handled the delicate artefacts. When they queried it she told them they were trinkets purchased from a flea market in Delhi. They barked a brief conversation amongst themselves, but ultimately let her pass. There was little else to hold her on. She'd had to leave her weapons behind; there was no easy way to smuggle them through.

The streets smelled different from India. A pang of loss met the first breeze to brush her skin; a mournful howl for the sudden grip of loneliness. It felt foreign, but she had always had a curious soul. Purpose drove her. She'd feel better once she'd carved a space in this new city.

Her first stop was an internet cafe. She shoved her bag carefully under the table, the strap hooked under her foot. Roopkund's secrets remained within, wrapped delicately in her spare clothes and way from curious eyes. Instead she worked from a photo snapped with her very basic phone, the small holo flickering as the battery drained. A search filtered on the computer in front of her. Technology was not her strong suit, but she wanted to gather at least basic knowledge of what she'd found.

alright. who wants to go on an adventure? I hate writing by myself. hah.