10-14-2016, 04:30 PM
The pack on his back bounced as he jogged with the others, equipment in his hands. This was procedure. The mansion wasn't a place they wanted the fire department. A scorched earth policy. If they couldn't get the fire out themselves, the place would burn taking its secrets with them.
What he didn't understand was why the sprinkler systems hadn't kicked on at those levels. There were sprinklers everywhere. Down stairs they ran, taking the shortest route possible, until they were approaching a set of halls he hadn't explored before. He looked along the ceiling as they ran. Bare. These halls were dusty with disuse. His eyebrows drew down. He understood, now. These had been ignored when the mansion had been fitted with a fire suppression system. Foolish, but there was nothing for it now.
Rounding a corner, he nearly ran into Yoshimura, Cross and Halvorssen. She was carrying a fire extinguisher. They paused only for a moment and she explained. Bad? How bad? He fixed her with a glare. Why was she carrying that instead of using it? But this was not the time for questions.
He ignored her and the rest continued on their way. The last turn took them to a hallway where the smoke filled the room, fire roaring along the sides of the walls. This was bad, the billowing smoke and orange black of the fire looking like the bowels of hell.
He was tired. It had been such a long day. Now this. This was not coincidence. The people needed to get out. "We will try to keep this under control as long as possible," he yelled to the others. To Cross and Yoshimura, "Get everyone out of the building. And make sure to take as many of the Archangel weapons as possible. Everything else can burn. Everyone should go to ground at their assigned safe houses," he finished, reaching for her extinguisher. It was lighter than he expected. He knew the both of them would be level headed enough to get it done quickly and hard enough to quell anyone foolish enough to argue.
Dismissing them from his mind, he turned to Halvorssen and thrust it at him. "You're with us." The roaring of the fires seemed to come from multiple points along the hall. They stayed low. It was important to get the walls under control, so the building didn't go up all at once. They needed time.
Spraying their extinguishers along the wall, they inched along. It was slow going. The other end of the hall was roaring and they needed to be coming at this from both directions. He set one crew at this end and took Halvorssen and the other three back into the hall they'd come from, to hit it from the other side. The way was longer and twisted before they finally found it.
This side the fire roared that much louder, having been burning unencumbered for far longer. He felt, rather than heard, a groan from above and saw that the ceiling and walls were fully engulfed. The heat was nearly unbearable. Still, this was where they needed to be. He hoped Yoshimura and Cross were getting people out.
They sprayed down the flames as best they could, but the fires only slackened for a moment. Halvorssen's tall form was crouched down and he inched forward ahead of them. Too far. Over the roaring he again heard a groaning and looked up just in time to see a chunk of ceiling fall to the ground, burning one of the other men. Armande and Halvorssen rolled forward, the heat in the floor burning his shoulder and back. Now they seemed in the middle of the fires.
This had been a mistake. There was no way they could stay down here. Just then another chunk of ceiling caved in, striking Halvorssen on the head with a spray of sparks and debris. He went down. Armande lurched forward and grabbed him and pulled him into a fireman's carry. The man was all muscle and legs and arms. The remaining men tried to spray down the walls enough to let Armande and Halvorssen get back to them, but the fire refused to cooperate.
Armande looked around. Trapped between fires, roof about to come down on them, and they were stuck. The men kept spraying but it was no use. He was trapped, the weight of Halvorssen heavy on his back. It felt like the entire weight of the day, now, sat on his shoulders. But he would not let Halvorssen die here. Not alone.
The men yelled something but he couldn't hear them over the roaring that filled his ears. He knelt down and dropped Halvorssen to the floor. More groaning above and more of the roof collapsed, blocking any escape for them. The men on the other side gestured wildly and kept spraying. The heat surrounded him, the flames licking about. Smoke filled the air.
And strangely, Armande Nicodemus felt peace wash over him. He would die. But Apollyon was dead. He'd at least seen to that. Pope Patricus would have to select another Regus. That thought made him sad. Not one name came to him as ready to lead the Atharim. Apollyon was dead, but there was still so much work to do. He could see the Atharim fragmenting, those traitors like Aria and others like her, trying to reshape the Atharim into their own twisted vision.
The peace he felt burned away, melted away, wtih that realization. Apollyon was dead. But the fight was far from over. Even as he felt himself getting light headed from the lack of air, the heat seeming to overwhelm him, he looked around. Looked through the flames, It was a hall of flames, now. But on the other side was a way out.
Crouching, he again, hoisted Halvorssen up onto his shoulders and, taking a deep breath, stood, feeling his head go light for a moment. The pack on his back was uncomfortable with Halvorssen's arm pressed on it, but there was no time to take it off.
Armande plunged into the fire, feeling the flames lick around him, singing away his hair and skin, his clothing twisting and smoking. The men at the ends kept spraying now, trying to clear a path. The pain tried to grab at his attention- the agony of it, as every cell in his body seemed to howl- but he focused, using the Chong Rann to push away his body's needs. Survival was all that mattered.
Just as they neared the edge of the flame another part of the roof collapsed, knocking him and Halvorssen to the ground, the man sprawling as if thrown. A crack in the wall next to him appeared. He felt like he was on fire as he tried to get up. The men threw down their extinguishers with anguished looks and fled. Armande felt anger and hatred and disgust well up inside him. Traitors! The flames licked around him everywhere. Halvorssen was already on fire and yet didn't move. He must have been killed by the blow to the head.
Armande refused, to give up. He refused to die, not like this. He coughed at the black smoke and soot in the air, the fire searing his mouth and throat. With a last defiant cry he threw himself into the wall, with all his strength. Harder and harder, he threw himself, a crazy man in a cage. Strangely, he felt something give. The panic continued to well up inside him. Again and again he threw himself against the same spot. Enough of a hole appeared and he was now a mad with fear, pushing and crawling. He squeezed through, ignoring and agony and pain that wanted to eat him alive, the cool breeze making the air he gulped down the sweetest water he had ever tasted. He scrambled along the rocky ground, the ground cool to the burning on his hands, away from the fire that roared around the hole he'd made.
Edited by Regus, Oct 14 2016, 04:31 PM.
What he didn't understand was why the sprinkler systems hadn't kicked on at those levels. There were sprinklers everywhere. Down stairs they ran, taking the shortest route possible, until they were approaching a set of halls he hadn't explored before. He looked along the ceiling as they ran. Bare. These halls were dusty with disuse. His eyebrows drew down. He understood, now. These had been ignored when the mansion had been fitted with a fire suppression system. Foolish, but there was nothing for it now.
Rounding a corner, he nearly ran into Yoshimura, Cross and Halvorssen. She was carrying a fire extinguisher. They paused only for a moment and she explained. Bad? How bad? He fixed her with a glare. Why was she carrying that instead of using it? But this was not the time for questions.
He ignored her and the rest continued on their way. The last turn took them to a hallway where the smoke filled the room, fire roaring along the sides of the walls. This was bad, the billowing smoke and orange black of the fire looking like the bowels of hell.
He was tired. It had been such a long day. Now this. This was not coincidence. The people needed to get out. "We will try to keep this under control as long as possible," he yelled to the others. To Cross and Yoshimura, "Get everyone out of the building. And make sure to take as many of the Archangel weapons as possible. Everything else can burn. Everyone should go to ground at their assigned safe houses," he finished, reaching for her extinguisher. It was lighter than he expected. He knew the both of them would be level headed enough to get it done quickly and hard enough to quell anyone foolish enough to argue.
Dismissing them from his mind, he turned to Halvorssen and thrust it at him. "You're with us." The roaring of the fires seemed to come from multiple points along the hall. They stayed low. It was important to get the walls under control, so the building didn't go up all at once. They needed time.
Spraying their extinguishers along the wall, they inched along. It was slow going. The other end of the hall was roaring and they needed to be coming at this from both directions. He set one crew at this end and took Halvorssen and the other three back into the hall they'd come from, to hit it from the other side. The way was longer and twisted before they finally found it.
This side the fire roared that much louder, having been burning unencumbered for far longer. He felt, rather than heard, a groan from above and saw that the ceiling and walls were fully engulfed. The heat was nearly unbearable. Still, this was where they needed to be. He hoped Yoshimura and Cross were getting people out.
They sprayed down the flames as best they could, but the fires only slackened for a moment. Halvorssen's tall form was crouched down and he inched forward ahead of them. Too far. Over the roaring he again heard a groaning and looked up just in time to see a chunk of ceiling fall to the ground, burning one of the other men. Armande and Halvorssen rolled forward, the heat in the floor burning his shoulder and back. Now they seemed in the middle of the fires.
This had been a mistake. There was no way they could stay down here. Just then another chunk of ceiling caved in, striking Halvorssen on the head with a spray of sparks and debris. He went down. Armande lurched forward and grabbed him and pulled him into a fireman's carry. The man was all muscle and legs and arms. The remaining men tried to spray down the walls enough to let Armande and Halvorssen get back to them, but the fire refused to cooperate.
Armande looked around. Trapped between fires, roof about to come down on them, and they were stuck. The men kept spraying but it was no use. He was trapped, the weight of Halvorssen heavy on his back. It felt like the entire weight of the day, now, sat on his shoulders. But he would not let Halvorssen die here. Not alone.
The men yelled something but he couldn't hear them over the roaring that filled his ears. He knelt down and dropped Halvorssen to the floor. More groaning above and more of the roof collapsed, blocking any escape for them. The men on the other side gestured wildly and kept spraying. The heat surrounded him, the flames licking about. Smoke filled the air.
And strangely, Armande Nicodemus felt peace wash over him. He would die. But Apollyon was dead. He'd at least seen to that. Pope Patricus would have to select another Regus. That thought made him sad. Not one name came to him as ready to lead the Atharim. Apollyon was dead, but there was still so much work to do. He could see the Atharim fragmenting, those traitors like Aria and others like her, trying to reshape the Atharim into their own twisted vision.
The peace he felt burned away, melted away, wtih that realization. Apollyon was dead. But the fight was far from over. Even as he felt himself getting light headed from the lack of air, the heat seeming to overwhelm him, he looked around. Looked through the flames, It was a hall of flames, now. But on the other side was a way out.
Crouching, he again, hoisted Halvorssen up onto his shoulders and, taking a deep breath, stood, feeling his head go light for a moment. The pack on his back was uncomfortable with Halvorssen's arm pressed on it, but there was no time to take it off.
Armande plunged into the fire, feeling the flames lick around him, singing away his hair and skin, his clothing twisting and smoking. The men at the ends kept spraying now, trying to clear a path. The pain tried to grab at his attention- the agony of it, as every cell in his body seemed to howl- but he focused, using the Chong Rann to push away his body's needs. Survival was all that mattered.
Just as they neared the edge of the flame another part of the roof collapsed, knocking him and Halvorssen to the ground, the man sprawling as if thrown. A crack in the wall next to him appeared. He felt like he was on fire as he tried to get up. The men threw down their extinguishers with anguished looks and fled. Armande felt anger and hatred and disgust well up inside him. Traitors! The flames licked around him everywhere. Halvorssen was already on fire and yet didn't move. He must have been killed by the blow to the head.
Armande refused, to give up. He refused to die, not like this. He coughed at the black smoke and soot in the air, the fire searing his mouth and throat. With a last defiant cry he threw himself into the wall, with all his strength. Harder and harder, he threw himself, a crazy man in a cage. Strangely, he felt something give. The panic continued to well up inside him. Again and again he threw himself against the same spot. Enough of a hole appeared and he was now a mad with fear, pushing and crawling. He squeezed through, ignoring and agony and pain that wanted to eat him alive, the cool breeze making the air he gulped down the sweetest water he had ever tasted. He scrambled along the rocky ground, the ground cool to the burning on his hands, away from the fire that roared around the hole he'd made.
Edited by Regus, Oct 14 2016, 04:31 PM.