Triumphant return

[Armande]

Armande put his head back against the head rest and allowed himself to relax. A moment only. There was so much to do. But tonight, so much had happened. Emotions churned within him, a maelstrom of fire and ice, a storm that shunted him from one extreme to the other. The image of Apollyon lying there dead. Martin with a sword in his back, dead. Physical tears and breaks of his skin and bones. His ouroboros ripped away from his soul. Exhilaration and exhaustion. Joy and rage. Gain and loss.

He was spent. He needed to let himself breathe. Soon, though. Soon it would begin. He could almost feel himself begin to pull on his reserves, gearing up for another fight. Theiss would be here soon. And the mansion was being locked down. The Order being assembled. A true purge would begin. And then, No, he told himself. Breathe.

He began again his meditative breathing, assuming the Chong Rann discipline. In. Out. In. Out. He willed his heartbeat to slow, felt the pattern smooth and consistent. Gradually, he sunk his breathing into his heartbeat, synced them, ten heartbeats per breath, ten to one, ten to one, ten to one... a mantra. Little by little he felt himself disconnected from his flesh, one part at a time, each limb and finger, detaching, felt his body dissolve into a mist that dispersed until he floated in nothingness, hovered beyond the emptiness, a void of infinite blackness.

Thoughts flitted across his consciousness.
וְהָאָרֶץ, הָיְתָה תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ, וְחֹשֶׁךְ, עַל-פְּנֵי
תְהוֹם; וְרוּחַ אֱלֹהִים, מְרַחֶפֶת עַל-פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם.
Now the earth was uncreated and unformed; Empty waste. Darkness covered the face of the endless deep;
and the breath of God hovered over the face of the waters.


It would take only a thought for him to change it. "Let there be light!" and a new pure universe would burst forth from the nothingness. हिरण्यगर्भ ब्रह्माण्ड. The Golden Womb gives birth to the Cosmic Egg. Only a thought, an expression of pure λόγος, logos, a word, a fully formed conception of the cosmos.

He let his consciousness thin and spread, diverging to infinite, until it permeated the void. And in that oneness, he felt a spark, a flash of light ripple through him. Kinship with ur-creation. This was his purpose. Across the void he could see the future take shape. Destiny. His to shape.

He let himself merge into that projection for an eternity that could have been seconds. And then, slowly, he pulled on his consciousness, drew it together, coalescing into a singularity of purpose. He drew on the void, draped it around him, reached out to reconnect. Gradually, he became aware of himself again, the aches and pains of his physical body quiet murmurs and whispers he could ignore.

Peace permeated him, the eye of the storm high overhead. And he was the center. He opened his eyes to find the lights off, the doctor gone. The pulsing at his right hand was faint, a slight warmth that drew his attention. The doctor must have thought him asleep. His body had demanded rest, it seemed.

Before he could do more, though, he became aware of the fire alarms going off. His eyebrows darkened, the peace he'd found shattered into shards like glass falling to the floor.

The pattern of the alarm was enough. He sat up and stood, hand steadying himself at the slight dizziness that came over him from the changed position. Only a moment and it was gone. He grabbed his pack and rushed out in the hallway, headed in the direction the alarm indicated. Others rushed and milled about to the exits, some with arms laden with possessions. The designated disaster captains appeared to be heading with purpose and equipment to the source.

Rage boiled over as his mind made thousands of projections. Apollyon was dead. But his empire wasn't. It wasn't an assault, he knew that. But the timing was troubling. This was his house. He could not let it be lost.

His mind continued the extrapolations even as he ran with captains and their fire suppression equipment, grabbing an extinguisher of his own. What if it's too late? Apollyon was dead. But they would be coming for him. For the Atharim.

The man's last gift.

Well, he would decide.


Edited by Regus, Oct 5 2016, 02:00 PM.

[Yoshimura]

Ichiro followed down the hall wondering why Jacinda was leading them down. Then she went for the fire extinguisher. Ichiro had seen fires. This one was beyond saving - at least it was with a fire extinguisher. There wouldn't be enough in the extinguisher to put it all out.

But she tried. Still, it was foolish. Ichiro wasn't afraid of death, but needlessly dying fighting a losing battle wasn't the answer either. One fire was out, but the rest were growing. Ichiro would have guessed that the extinguisher was mostly empty.

Cross asked for better ideas. "We leave,"
Ichiro said. "We can't fight it."
There was no fear in his voice. It was simply a statement of fact.

On the way up, Ichiro could collect his swords. The tanto he already had with him. He always kept the tanto with him, but the rest of them were kept on the first floor. They would pass them on the way out.

[Jacinda]

Jacinda choked on the smoke. The extinguisher was pretty light at this point. She looked at Yoshimura. He was right. "Yeah...damn!"


Gunnar was nodding. It was hot down here. She had to get her stuff. And she'd grab some of the new weapons. Damn damn damn!!! As she ran down the hall, she wondered at her reaction. It wasn't like she'd been there long. She was used to living on her own and working alone. Had she changed?

She wasn't sure. She did like working with others. The structure....that was something that was tougher. What would the Regus do? What would happen to the Atharim? Would they set up somewhere else? How much of their stuff was backed up? What about the Archangels?

She saw early responders rushing past her and she stopped. Regus was with them, eyes angry and tired. She looked at Gunnar and Yoshi. "The fire is in the basement. It's bad,"
she yelled over the alarms. Bah! She turned around, to go back the direction they'd came from. At the very least, she wanted Regus to see for himself and understand.

[Armande]

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.

[Yoshimura]

Ichiro nodded simply at the Regus' directions. They were simple enough. Salvage what we could and get people out. He turned with Cross to follow his mission. Yoshimura had no problem with leading now. He had orders and they had to be followed.

First to the armory. Ichiro grabbed a pack and started filling it with Archangel weapons. He did so silently, and grabbed his swords while they were there too. Ichiro doubted Cross would understand. He had few possessions - and these were the only ones that actually mattered to him.

After he had filled his pack and Cross collected what she needed, Ichiro headed towards a computer. Just because he didn't like the things didn't mean he didn't know how to use them. He logged in and sent out a general evacuation order. At the very least, that would get the message to all surviving Atharim.

"Let's go,"
he said, facing Cross. "We can pick up stragglers on the way out."


As they left the armory, Ichiro could see his message had gotten out. Atharim were heading towards the exits. One moved towards them, and Ichiro stopped him with a hand.

"I need..." he began.

Ichiro took the man in a hand lock and twisted him to face towards the exit. "You need nothing. We leave."
Ichiro let go and pushed him closer to the exit. The man obviously got the hint because he headed towards the exit.

"We don't have much time."
he said to Jacinda. "We maybe have time for one sweep before we have to get out."