Fallout

[Ivan Sarkozy]

The Padre was quiet the entire ride. Maybe he felt the magnitude of what was being asked of him. He hoped he would man up. He tried to speak comfortingly. "Look. I know a lot is being asked of you. Maybe you're scared that you'll fail. But just imagine what would happen to the world if Ascendancy died. You know there are Privileges in the Sphere. Powerful men and woman heading up the Dominances. And the old rivalries between nations is still there. You remember what happened in DV, right? Can you imagine the world being torn apart?"
He looked out at the buildings of the city, seeing it all again. Destruction. Fighting. Chaos. Suffering. Only now it would be the planet. Or at least a huge part of it. Even non-CCD aligned nations would reel from the blow.

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, determination growing in his gut. Whatever it took, he would stop it. Or...do something, at least. He didn't know. He wasn't a politician. Or a leader. But he wasn't gonna sit idly by either.

Best, though, would be if the Padre grew a pair and manned up. Too much was at stake.

Finally, though, they got to Kremlin Clinical. Security was out in force and for a moment, Ivan wondered if they were gonna let him through. The CSS weren't exactly friendly types. But Graber musta left word because they checked his ID and did the retinal scan and let him pass- not before looking over the Padre suspiciously. Graber must have also let them know he was bringing Jensen in.

He drove up to the emergency entrance and parked in front of the doors. One of the guards started up but he threw his keys toward the guy. "Sorry. No time. But anyone can park it."
He hustled the Padre out of the car. "Sorry Mr. James. But we're losing time."


[[ooc: feel free to mod Ivan to wherever you need to get to Asc, assuming you are willing to heal him.]]

[Ascendancy]

It was about forty-five minutes before sunrise, but buried deep within the heart of Kremlin Clinical, Viktor was aware of the passage of time based on the number of cups of coffee he had. Hours into the surgery, one of the surgeons returned for another update. The man was completely scrubbed out and unlikely to return once done with report. He was tired, eyes deepened by shadows, and shoulders sagged. Yet a determination hardened his expression. Viktor stood in anticipation of good news.

"The surgery is complete. He is in post-op and you can go see him after this. We have repaired the gunshot wound. It went clean through the chest cavity. A tube is currently draining the rest of the blood and air from the pleural space. Once complete the lung should open again, if the bleeding doesn't resume."


Viktor blinked. "So he's out of danger?"


The surgeon shook his head. "Hardly. The internal structures were damaged greatly. They are now sealed and pasted with a stem cell biofilm but rupture is still possible. Not to mention infection, embolism, aneurysm. Finally, he is still in a coma, but you'll need to speak with his primary for follow up. I can only tell you about the surgery. I do know there's brain damage, and those sorts of injuries are difficult to predict. He was weak, as I said before. We had to start his heart again near the end."


Viktor stifled the curse on the tip of his tongue and thanked the doctor instead. He gathered his things to go see Ascendancy when his under-Consul ran into the waiting room, nearly plowing down the surgeon on the way out.

"The fuck is wrong with you?"
Viktor snapped, but his Under ignored it, activating the television.

A huge image of the Ascendancy on a gurney, burned, bloodied, and unconscious filled the screen. His head was wrenched back at that sick angle to allow for intubation.

Viktor dropped his coat and walked to the screen in a daze until he was almost flat against the wall. "My god. How did THAT get out?!"


The Under answered, "I don't know sir. It is impossible."


Viktor rounded on the man and threw a loud slap across his cheek. "Nothing is fucking impossible! Did you see what happened today?!"


Still reeling with fury, he snatched the coat and left his instructions. "Find the source and destroy them. And wake Alexandrova immediately. If she doesn't already know. Get her working on it in five minutes."


The fury in Viktor's gaze kept everyone at safe distance. When he arrived in post-op, the place was crawling with CSS Barrier Preator agents as well as ZARS. He was accustom to their presence in the Kremlin and walked by while barely stopping to confirm identity.

After being permitted inside, Viktor's anger vanished when he saw Ascendancy. He understood intellectually, saw the leaked photos, but neither prepared him to really understand the gravity of the situation.

He went to the bedside. The man supine on the bed was still as death. A blanket draped his lap, but his legs and chest were bare, excluding the bandaging and pinch of sutures along the right. The tops of his shoulders were bright red as though sunburnt. His chest was peppered with wireless EKG monitoring leads. Lines of drugs were pushed into his arms. Tubes snaked from his mouth. His head was wrapped in gauze, tufts of dark hair stuck out along the edges. A dozen overhead screens illuminated the otherwise dim room, casting Nikolai's face with a sickly green pallor.

"You are not immortal,"
Viktor said quietly, resting his hands on the bedrail. Whatever possessed Ascendancy to confront these attackers alone, Viktor could not fathom. The man had been shot, fried, and burned nearly to death, and that was on top of the fatigue he showed after the construction of the monument. There was more to it, though. Viktor's eyes squinted as he leaned closer to the body. Within the redness, almost indistinguishable from the burns, just under a collarbone was a faint puckered circle. Almost like the man had gone Cupping, although Viktor knew Nikolai disliked the tradition.

He stood upright when his Wallet blinked a new message. It was from his Under-Consul. The slap must have put his head back on straight.

Jensen James has arrived with the CDPS agent I sent.

Send them up. I'll wait in the hall.

Viktor returned the message and slipped out of the room just as a surg-nurse entered to tend to Ascendancy. He stood with the human-wall of security and checked for the world's reaction to the leak while he waited.

[Jensen James]

They were taken upstairs and led deep into the heart of the hospital. The halls were sterile and cold, and empty except for the military presence. Jensen was no stranger to hospitals. Not only had he spent a number of weeks visiting the abandoned souls of The Guardian, healing whom he could under the guise of clergy, but he made an entire day of visiting the infirm every week when he was a Senior Pastor.

Those were different times. In Dallas, he sent to pray and visit. At The guardian, nobody was aware of The Gift. Here, not only was he preparing to share the miracle of the Gift with an audience, but that someone was the most powerful man in the world. Healing or not healing him would alter the course of history either way. The burden of responsibility was almost too much to bear. What do I do?

He could try and say the Ascendancy's injuries were too great. He could say he wasn't strong enough. He could let the man suffer. Release him to the hands of fate and God. There were religions that utilized no medical intervention at all based on their faith in fate.

When they were led to an area that Jensen recognized as a recovery from surgical procedures, he met the gaze of the nurses that looked up from behind their stations. He knew they wondered who he was. He clearly did not belong with the stern faces in suits, nor did he have the bearing of a politician.

The man that greeted him was older with thinning hair and a tight jaw. Jensen offered to shake hands when they were introduced.

[Marcus DuBois]

Alexandrova Vladislavovna - Leonid Bykov

Office of the Consul on Public Engagement, Propaganda, and Interdominance Relations

Office of the Consulate on Communications

The vibration of her wallet woke Alexandrova out of a deep dreamless sleep and her left hand slapped out to grab it. She squinted her eyes at the harsh glow of the device to read the message. Vibration and movement to her right told her Leonid was doing the same. Both of them? Suddenly her heart jumped. This had to be bad.

She read the report and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, the rush of blood momentarily making her dizzy. She needed to focus. Leonid looked at her, his face grim. "This is bad"
, he said.

Both of them got up and she rushed immediately to her private wash room to get ready for the day. Shit! Her heart pounded with worry and fear as she performed her morning ablutions as quickly as possible, trying to deal with this. Nikolai had been hurt and was in critical condition. Her mind reeled at the thought, almost unbelieving. Her friend of over 25 years was now being medivaced to the hospital. Nikolai! It seemed impossible. They were part of his inner Sphere, the true Sphere. With them alone did Nik laugh and relax, confident in their complete loyalty. That he could now be dying worried her.

But the colder side of her- the part that was constantly analyzing information, viewing them through other people's eyes, drawing conclusions- felt terror. Nik was the empire. He was the heart of the CCD. His strength was its strength. If he died...she knew what would happen. Very likely the Sphere would rend the empire into pieces as each Privilege vied and fought for dominance, the way Alexander the Great's generals had torn apart his once great empire after his death. What would come was chaos.

Just the whisper of this getting out was enough to send tremors across the empire. Especially after the display yesterday afternoon- a display that had cemented the loyalty and awe in the hearts and minds of so many people- could something like this seem downright unnerving. She suspected there would be many who would see this as some sort of divine judgement. The thought sickened her. No. It infuriated her, that people would think something so childish of Nik. After all he had done for them. She shook her head as she dressed and ran a brush through her still damp hair.

They were out of her apartment in moments, headed for the Propaganda Consulate offices. "We have to get ahead of this. We cannot allow word of this to get out."
She winced as she read over more detailed reports, including the fact that ambulances and helos were seen at the Kremlin. Worse still, no one had thought to cover Nik up or hide his face while he was being transported. She snarled. "Incompetent fools!"
she said under her breath. Heads would roll for this. Even if Nik survived, the damage from this to the empire could be catastrophic.

Leonid was looking over his own reports and his frown said it was just as bad. "I've got Stella monitoring social media. Already we're seeing posts from people who are in the square. A few videos and pictures. Nothing specific yet, but posts are only beginning to be put up..."
he shook his head. It was only a matter of time. He stopped as his wallet rang and he answered it. She could hear an anxious voice on the other end and Leonid only gave short gruff responses. He looked at her, though, and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

"Is he alright? Any change?"
, she whispered. Leonid shook his head, silent as he listened. When he hung up he gave her more.

"No. He remains in critical condition. Viktor is there now. The doctors have him prepping for surgery. He's been shot, has heavy burns over the top half of his body, including his face and head. There is some damage to his heart and lungs...maybe even brain damage...."
he trailed off, shaking his head.

She stared at him. Shock numbing her, making it hard to think. None of this made sense. "Do we know what happened? Who's responsible? How could this have happened. "


"So far, the intel is trickling in. The ZARs report they had been ordered to stand down and relax their guard and surveillance of the old tunnels. Nik obviously had been expecting someone."
He shook his head. "I don't know what he was thinking."


Alexandrova did. Nik was thinking what he always thought. He was immortal. She understood that. His perspective- his long life, the way he maneuvered into his current position, his own personal power- in all of this nothing had ever really threatened him. Oh, he sometimes spoke of the monastery, but that had been decades ago. Before. Now he was the Ascendancy. More than a man. Ah Nik. Please don't tell me you came to believe the image we crafted together. He was so determined. So dedicated. So earnest. And it had worked out. Almost as if the universe itself had determined his life course, had made all of this happen so easily. Of course he did. Poor Nik. She could see him in the hospital, tubes in his nose, lying there, fighting for his life. Suffering.

An idea came to her, a contingency. They arrived at the office and it was in a flurry, bleary tired eyes and steaming cups of coffee saying her team had assembled immediately. Without Marcus. Another casualty. Nik was the priority, of course. But she did not forget that Marcus was also fighting for his life. The boy was smart and determined. He had much to offer. And Nik had seemed to take a liking to him. That hadn't happened in a long time. Most Sigmas were in and out in their two years and only met with the Ascendancy a handful of times. Something about him, though,was different.

But Nik. Nik was the priority. One of her staff poked her head in her office and said "You need to see this." She came out to see a video monitor set to a news feed. Shit. This just kept getting worse. Somehow, the news had leaked. There was even brief footage of Nik's burned face. The sight shocked her to her core. Knowing and seeing were two different things. He looked terrible. She ground her teeth. "Find out who leaked this."
God help that person when she found out. She turned to Leonid. His face was stony.

She shoved away her emotions. Now was not the time. "We've got to fix this."
He nodded.

"We can spin this. We just need an angle"
She nodded and gave him a small smile.

She turned to Alyssa, one of her aides. "Get us some coffee please. we have much to do."
The girl smiled, but that was not what Alexandrova noticed. She was looking at the chain that was around her neck, the cross nestled against her collar bone. It wasn't just the normal t-shape by itself. The form of Jesus had been set against the metal, head hanging down, slightly off to the side. She'd seen larger versions and the image was always the same. Suffering was the key part of it.

Before the coffee was even in hand, she and Leonid and her team began to strategize and formulate a response. There was a way. It took time. The hours passed. But they would be ready. Just in time for the morning news.
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Sep 27 2016, 03:45 PM.

[Ascendancy]

Viktor's eyes scrutinized the two men coming their direction. At his left and right, the highly trained Barrier agents undertook their own study. The detective was obvious to their eyes, even Viktor could see it in the man's walk. CDPS, competent CDPS, were distinct from their peers. Alongside was the one Viktor assumed to be Jensen. There had been a government issue photo in the report sent by the Under-consul, but seeing the man in the flesh was always different.

Viktor stepped forward slightly and offered to shake hands. "Mister James, thank you for coming. Or do you prefer Pastor James?"
There had been information in the file about Jensen's previous employment, and pastor had been among the list, but Viktor hadn't read any details about the man's tenure leading a church. Viktor was not religious, but a priest was more common in Moscow anyway. He was admittedly naive on the traditions of a pastor.

He turned to greet the detective, but to Viktor, Ivan was little more than an errand boy. He was grateful for his success in finding Jensen, but of little more importance than that. The Under-consul had not explained why Ivan was delegated the task, although he mentioned something about a certain CDPS detective certain to be loyal to the Ascendancy. Trusting no one but himself, Viktor demanded an explanation if they were going to trust this immense secret with a random detective. Only after the circumstances of Ivan's loyalty was assured had Viktor given the approval."Detective, good work. The Ascendancy trusts you, so I trust you. I'll make sure he knows what you did tonight."


Speaking of trust, Viktor turned back to Jensen. "Not that we don't trust you, Mister James, but these men will need to search you before allowing you with the Ascendancy. Although knowing what these channelers can do, I don't know how useful it is, but humor us a moment,"
with that, Viktor waved the agents to conduct the frisk. Detective Sarkozy was allowed to keep his firearm, but only after disclosing it and any other weapons to the agents.

Viktor crossed his arms and watched, and only once he was satisfied did he nod. The agents immediately followed the order. Until the Ascendancy was awake, he was effectively in charge of the Custody.

"This way."
He led Ivan and Jensen inside the room and two Barrier agents followed close on their heels.

[Jensen James]

Jensen shook hands. He vaguely recognized the man that greeted them as someone high up in CCD government. But as Jensen paid little attention over the years, he couldn't recall the man's name. He had to be important though, as all the agents seemed to defer to him. "Jensen is fine, sir."


The pat down was not a completely foreign experience, but he licked his lips anyway in anticipation.

When they were led inside, Jensen's gaze was immediately pulled to the man in the bed. He had been in ICU's before. When a member of the church was in a car wreck or had a stroke. But seeing a man on life support was always unsettling. How fragile the human body was. Life was a gift from God. One that could be lost at any moment.

He was pulled almost against his will to the bedside, gaze honed, brow furrowed, and lips tightly drawn. The Ascendancy was a handsome man. His image was everywhere in Moscow. The world, really. Dark hair, bright blue eyes that always glittered like he had a secret none were privy to. Even with the scorch of burn marks, bandages and tubes he was obviously still appeared a young man. Jensen's age or so.

He let his hand fall across the Ascendancy's, squeezing it, but found only slack fingers. How could such a man be the Antichrist? He was dedicated to peace and prosperity. His policies shook the foundations of the globe, certainly, but to see the world end? To proclaim himself God? The monument was worshipped, but that was not Nikolai's demand. He didn't demand the citizens of the Custody fall to their knees before him, but in his presence, even seemingly lifeless, Jensen felt the urge to kneel, to lower himself so that the Ascendancy was the greater. For indeed he was.

Jensen swallowed. "He's badly hurt. I have not healed anyone so bad before."


Still holding his hand, he pointed to a chair for someone to push closer so that he could sit. "I will try, though. Let's pray,"
he said and bowed his head, curling his fingers tight through the Ascendancy's.

This man is still a man. No matter his transgressions. No matter the good or evil he has wrought. No matter his destiny. He is capable of redemption just as I am as well. Whether he is to be used by a greater will or not, I leave the Gift at your discretion. Heal him if it be the greater will. I am but a conduit. A servant of all.

Eyes still closed, he reached into the fires of the Gift, laid his other hand on Ascendancy's burnt chest, and worked the flows.

[Marcus DuBois]

Leonid Bykov

Office of the Consulate on Communications

Leonid didn't feel tired despite having been awakened hours before dawn. Once his mind started working, fatigues of the body seemed to disappear. And now, more than at any other time in history, was it important that they handle this.

He'd been in contact with Viktor and gotten updates. The prognosis was not good. Nik was in a forced coma to keep him stable as doctors worked. Stabs of anxiety and worry kept piercing him, when he allowed himself to think of what might might happen to his friend. He had to push it away, box it up and think logically. This was no time to be emotional.

In truth, while there was a plan in place if Nik should die, he knew the truth. Viktor could continue with the illusion that the plan would go off without a hitch. But he knew all too well the way people and history worked. For all his devotion and loyalty as a member of their inner circle, sometimes Viktor did not see the world for what it was. Nik was the glue holding the empire together. And there was no substitute for him.

He sighed inwardly. How could there be. Anyone who might be groomed to take over if Nik died automatically became a threat- a focal point to rally around, however loyal that person himself might be. It would only be too easy for Privileges to try to use a person like that as a figure head. No, the only viable solution had been a joint council to rule- the outer and inner Sphere joining together. And in truth, however carefully crafted his image was, Nik ruled but as the head of an entire governing body. The empire was simply too big. Many day to day details were delegated to his cabinate. Day to day governance could continue...

But he knew. Alexandrova knew. It would only be a matter of time before one of them smelled the blood in the water. Before the power struggles that Nik kept a lid on, dominated, began to boil over. It would fall, eventually. Their roles would change.

So...the real question was, would they support someone else? Or would they throw their hats into the ring? Manipulating public sentiment was what they did- and they were very very good at it. Few people knew how much control they really had. People's hearts and minds were controlled by the things they watched and read and listened to. Not simply the news. All the media. The fact that people considered most of these frivolities and inconsequential only made them that much more effective. Watching a news program or reading an editorial, people had their mental guards up. Listening to a favorite song or watching a movie or TV show...well, those guards, if up at all, were very weak. It was something they had exploited for decades as they shaped public opinion.

It could be done, especially if they started to lay the foundation now....Bah! They had never really talked about it. How could they? They were Nik's to the core. He felt disloyal just thinking about it. Nik was his friend and they believed in him, as a person. It wasn't the simple tricks he could do. Those were fine for the masses. But power did not inspire loyalty. Competence. Intelligence. Loyalty. Goodness. Purpose. Those things did. And had.

But he was not naive. He couldn't simply sit back and hope for the best and not plan for the worst. What would happen would happen. And Nik would want his work to go on, if things went south. He knew that.

And Alexandrova was a genius. Time and again, he marveled at how she latched on to a narrative that proved the most effective. This time, though...he read over the press release. It would be sent out after his press conference.

Already, news outlets- those they controlled and those they allowed- had contacted them for information on the leak. A press conference was scheduled for 6 AM. He had his speech prepared.

Now, he was just staring out the window. There was more to do, but he had to get into the zone, the mindset. The key point had to be clear, the one thing that people should walk away with, if they remembered nothing else. The words had to logical and informational. This was not a rousing speech. But the emotion had to be real.

It was real. He just needed to let it show in the right way. Real emotion, calculated expression. Just like poetry, channeling emotion into a structure to contain the purist essence, the most powerful punch.

It was almost time.

---

The flash of the cameras tried to grab his attention but he ignored them, as he did the questions the reporters peppered him with. There was a hum to the crowd, an anxious energy.

"I'm going to need everyone to be quiet."
He waited and simply looked at the crowd. He let the concern and tiredness show on his face- even a touch of worry and sadness. It would build their desire for answers even as they got none from him until they were silent. Finally, the room was still, people leaning forward with wallets or recorders or cameras out to catch his words. Purposefully, he would keep his voice low when he did speak, to keep them quiet throughout.

"Late last night, unknown assailants attempted to carry out a devastating attack on the people of Moscow. Not one of the many terrorist groups out there have taken responsibility for this."
He paused, letting it be the unspoken understanding that an attack like this was something that even the most rabid terrorists might not want to be associated with. "A small group of these enemies of peace killed many loyal CCD guards and were able to gain entrance into the lower offices of the Kremlin. There, they planned on setting off a small nuclear device that would have destroyed the Kremlin, Red Square and St. Basil's Basilica."


He stopped, letting a bit of anger show. It was not feigned, but it was not uncontrolled. "This was a calculated attack designed to have the maximum impact and kill the greatest number of innocent people. The Kremlin's cleaning staff were hard at work last night, vacuuming and dusting and cleaning and preparing for the next day's breakfast. Red Square was filled with thousands, many there with their families to witness the extraordinary monument the Ascendancycreated. And St. Basil's Basilica was filled with parishioners, seeking solace and contemplation in that holy place."


Righteous indignation cracked through his voice even as he plowed on inexorably, hypnotically. "All of these people would have been killed, snuffed out like that-"
he snapped his fingers -" turned into dust. The radiation cloud would have then spread over the center of Moscow, polluting our air and water. You and your families would have been the secondary casualties as you got up this morning to prepare for work or school or play, not knowing that very soon you would be watching your children and your husbands and wives cough blood and weaken as they succumbed to this cowardly attack."


He stopped, looking each of them in the eye, the hurt and anger plain in his. No one spoke. He smiled inwardly. The spell held them. "Thankfully, that didn't happen."
He let a hint of awe show in his eyes as he shook his head softly, let a bit of the sadness he felt show. "The Ascendancy, Nikolai Brandon, found out about the attack. And he rushed down to stop it. Using the power, that extraordinary power he demonstrated to all of us yesterday, he was able to contain the explosion. The damage was minimal. And the radiation was contained."
The awe shone in his eyes, as if he had witnessed it.

And then his eyes dropped, as if he couldn't hold it, couldn't contain what was coming. Softly, "But..."
He breathed deeply, seeking strength. He looked around the room, a parent about to give terrible news. 'Your dog got hit by a car.' 'Your brother was hurt.' 'There's something wrong with your mother.' "The Ascendancy stopped the blast, but he himself bore the brunt of it."


The silence was deafening. He shook his head, ready to convey the depth of the damage. "Burns cover his body. There is extensive heart and lung damage. Brain damage."
He stopped, as if he couldn't go on, letting it sink in. "He should be dead. The agony is unbearable. He should be dead. But he is so strong. He is a fighter. He is getting the best care possible. Still, we can only wait and see."


The bomb dropped, the storm gotten through, we paused to collect himself. "We ask that all of you, whatever faith you profess, pray for the Ascendancy. And to those who do not practice a faith or believe in a higher power, remember him in your thoughts and your conversation. He is the empire. We are the empire. The health of the whole body is tied together. Who knows but that our well wishings can save him. We will keep you updated."


Appeal made, there was just one more matter. Anger darkened his eyes, hardened his voice. "And to those who made this attack, or those enemies that would try to take advantage of the Ascendancy's terrible injuries, I give warning. We are coming for you. The bear has been awakened from its slumber. There is nowhere you can hide."
He paused, letting his glittering angry eyes scan the crowd, focus on each camera.

"That is all."
The spell was broken and a wall of questions was hurled at him. But he was done. It was done. Now Alexandrova would do her part. Already editorials were written, emotional pieces ready for posting on the nets and in newspapers and magazines. The full array of their voices had been marshalled for TV appearances, from those people knew or suspected, to those whose cover was being critical of the government. Soon, their voices would be joined by well-wishers in media, from music to television to movies and personalities.

The Ascendancy, Nikolai Brandon, lying at death's door, covered in burns, the Argus band surrounded by bubbled and burned flesh and hair, suffering for all of them. It was a powerful image.

[Ivan Sarkozy]

The Deputy-Consul was tense...but Ivan totally understood that. They were all tense. The future was at stake here. Even so, he took the time to be polite and tried to get the Padre in a good place. That was good. The guy seemed out of sorts, like he wasn't sure he wanted to be there.

But he was stepping up, so that was good. He seemed very stiff during the frisking, almost as if he were trying to shrink in on himself. Well, that was common for some people. If you don't get frisked a lot it could feel weird. Especially if the the frisker was a bit handsy. Not his favorite thing. He didn't have an issue with sexual preference....but his didn't run to enjoying dude running their hands over him. So he was glad he was let through, once he let 'em know he was carrying.

They went into the hospital room and Ivan could only stare. There the Ascendancy lay, tube coming out of his mouth and arms and whatever else. Bandages covered his head. He looked tore up. Ivan's heart sank. Seeing...man. Seeing this in person, well...damn! Reminded him of when he dad was laid up. Not as emotional, but as important.

The room was silent except for the machines. The Padre said something and then sat down, next to Ascendancy, taking his hand tenderly. Then he closed his eyes. Ivan felt the power being seized, the menace in the room suddenly overpowering. Ivan seized the power himself. He wanted to see this. It could be useful.

He was only peripherally aware of the Deputy-Consul holding his wallet up as if to take a video. What he was seeing was incredible.

[[modded with permission]]


Edited by Ivan Sarkozy, Sep 29 2016, 11:40 AM.

[Ascendancy]

Viktor fixed his gaze upon the back of Jensen's head, forcing it to remain wary of the man until he'd proven his trust. Viktor was literally laying his head on the guillotine, and with what happened next, either his neck would be saved or severed. For all he knew, Jensen could go ahead and kill Nikolai. The man may yet recover on his own, or he may have permanent brain damage and remain a vegetable for the rest of his life. Who knew the extent of this power? Maybe Jensen would heal him but transform his personality, wipe his memory, or warp his mind? He was putting a lot of trust into the American. Ivan's testimony blunted the sharp worry sticking in his mind like barbs, but at least it was some help.

Jensen's call to prayer narrowed his gaze doubtful. He looked to Ivan like the man might have insight. He leaned closer, "Watch him. If he does something you think is wrong, step in. Do not hesitate."
He kicked a nod toward the back of Jensen's head, jaw tight.

His Wallet vibrated softly in his pocket. The press conference had begun. Leonid was on stage, and Viktor was torn whether to step out and watch or stay with Nikolai.

Instead, he flipped the Wallet to record and held the camera high. He was Nikolai's man. He wouldn't leave, not now. Not when the man's life was balanced on the edge of a knife.

He recorded what was happening.

[Aria]

Sleep was a luxurious Michal was not often afforded. ZARS had been on stand down for the immediate future - which meant everyone was on standby even though the Ascendancy said otherwise. But there was only so many stimuli one could take before their body dropped dead. Michal was at that point - taking a forced nap in one of the rooms used for such things.

He'd barely closed his eyes when his wallet went off. Priority message. He looked at it and frowned at the time before he'd even opened the message. He'd lost two hours. It was now well after midnight and he wasn't any more rested than he had been two hours ago.

Michal flipped open the message and read it through blearry eyes. "Fuck!" The Ascendancy had been attacked and that girl was involved. A girl he didn't want anything to do with, but still he'd been assigned and he was the only one who was allowed near her in any capacity other than on Ascendancy's word. Mostly due to the dangers she presented.

Michal rushed to the hospital. Everyone was worried about Ascendancy, he was too, but right now his job said contain the girl.

***

Pain filled her dreams. It wasn't all her pain. Aria was peripherally aware that she was in a hospital. She felt all the pain all around her. The room next to her was muddled with drugs but the pain was seeping through even that. It must be unbearable. Everywhere there was pain. But most of all she felt the frustration of people, sadness, hurt, grief, anger.

In a hospital there was no love, or joy. Aria's eyes popped open again she blinked away the light until she could focus. There were no babies here - at least she sensed nothing of innocence. Aria tried to sit up again but she found that the pain radiated into her body and she winced in pain.

Aria pulled the bubble around her and the emotions faded and the world grew dim, but her own pain floated on the outside as she sat up. Her arm was stuck with an IV. Her clothes were gone. Bandages covered her skin that had been exposed. Her rib cage was bandaged and Aria knew she had at least one broken rib from the pain.

A nurse walked by and when she saw Aria sitting up the woman stode in and pushed Aria back flat. Aria fought back but her body hurt to move and soon she gave up. Aria tried to speak again but was only able to get a whisper out. "I need to make a phone call."


The nurse shook her head. "I know. You said that already. Not until you are cleared."

Aria reached over and grabbed the nurses wrist and sent her undying love. She'd weep for Aria if she wanted her to. The woman blinked and she smiled and careessed Aria's check with her other hand. "I want to make a call, now."


The nurse opened her mouth before she was violently ripped away from Aria's grasp. Aria pouted. The nurse blinked at the man who was manhandling her. "What do you think you are doing?" she asked him.

He frowned and pulled her away from the room and closed the door. Aria could only guess he knew who she was and was warning her now. Aria sighed. So much for that.

He came back in and shut the door. "Do not touch anyone. Or I'll see to it that you sit here without treatment."

Aria rolled her eyes. "I need to make a phone call."


"To whom?" He asked.

"My friend. I'm sure he's worried."


"Would this be Mr. Durante?"

Aria sighed. "Yes."


"I will get word to him, but it may not be soon. You are to behave. We can have our arrangement severed."

Aria laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time today that my agreements have been severed."
Aria watched the man standing against the door. "If you are going to stay at least sit down and let them do their jobs."


"Behave." The man opened the door and sat down in a chair that he moved to just inside the room. "Touch anyone, manipulate anyone, and I will have them put you to sleep." The smile that spread across his lips made Aria grin - he was threatening her with more than just drugs, she liked him.


Edited by Aria, Sep 29 2016, 12:49 PM.