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[Caesar]

Tonight, they would perform 'Apprentice' in the theatre. It was a tragic play, with an even more tragic course of events, and a most tragic main character. Red had seen the work before, and he had always appreciated the actors' performance. Still, it was she who had orchestrated the play, whose mind had given birth to this tale, who he regarded with most respect. The theatre was his outlet, his relaxation, and he would love to write his own script. It was most unfortunate that he would be occupied tonight, but it could not hurt to dream about attending the event. He smiled absent-mindedly, thinking of the man's fading business, the death of his wife. These things did not amuse him, but he loved skill with which they were portrayed. The dark play reminded him of the city, of all the terrors it contained.

With the metropolis once again in mind, he adjusted the photograph of the ringer somewhat so that it lay parallel to the bottom of the board, a quirky habit of his, then mumbled idly to himself. People were starting to ask questions, while he was already in the process of answering them. The Others acted, while he had remained relatively idle. Red gathered information, moved pieces as if in a grand scheme. He had a plan, and he changed that plan, always kept changing it. Everything he learned made him reconsider his judgments.

Despite his recent misstep, he had started to feel powerful. He knew that Carpenter had taken excellent care of matters, and that the shards he had given him had found their way to suitable owners. With these issues behind him, he could focus on the Others: Jacqueline intrigued him, but for now he saw no need to seek her out. Elton, who had created the orgonic fabricators, had mostly disappeared, gone off his radar. Red closed his eyes, musing on his thoughts: before he would move his next piece, he would arrange a meeting with the man who had constructed these robots, these things that had been in the news recently. First, however, he would move to a new apartment.

A piercing scream shook Red out of his deliberations. Had it come from outside, he would have been unfazed, but it hadn't: the scream found its origins inside the building, and given the events of the past year, it induced a healthy state of paranoia. He moved quickly, intent on dismantling the situation into analyzable pieces. A quick look outside his door yielded naught but the dark and empty sixth-floor corridor. Red locked the door behind him, then crossed his apartment to the windows, pulling open the curtains, so he could examine the windows on the lower floors for light or other signs of activity.

Red's next moment was not spent in rational thought, but in impressions, in a quick procession of sensory input: he saw a dark blue van parked in the middle of the street, labelled 'SWAT'. He thought that he saw some flame, some bright light, as off a mirror reflecting the sun. He heard something loud and deafening, something unwelcome. This thing violated his ears, and his body started to twist of its own volition, jerking away from some unseen threat he did not yet realize existed. Something burned its way over his upper cheek, then kissed his right eye and turned half the world a bright red. The red was soon replaced by blackness as his body hit the floor with a surreal thud.

Adrenaline rushed in: his body fought to get a hold on the pain, to return control of his faculties to his mind. What had felt like a burn turned out to be a tear. Blood oozed from his cheek, from his eye. Red lay there bleeding, on the floor, touching his face in disbelief. He had been shot. He was bleeding. What bothered him the most was that he couldn't see most things to the right of his nose, and that despite that, the danger was far from having been averted. With a heavy sigh he pushed himself to his feet, closing the curtains, careful not to stumble into their scopes again. Successively he limped over to the wall that contained his notes, his ears still ringing. He had no clue why the mayor had decided to act against him, or how the police had located him, but he did know that he did not want to waste time trying to find out.

Scolding himself for his failure to prepare, to avoid this situation, he made a quick but careful selection of pictures, notes and newspapers, stuffing any mention of Jacqueline into his pockets. Next he took his time to examine two photographs, one of an orgonic regulator, the other of Absolon during his demonstration. Deciding that they would make a great distraction, Red started realligning his records, creating a framework of newspaper scraps and images that made it seem as if these two men worked with him, as if there was a stucture, as if there was a correlation between Elton, Absolon and himself. The police would surely pick up on these leads.

A minute of ripping his shirt for bandages later Red glanced into the shattered remains of his mirror, considering his injured reflection. This was his apartment and here were his clothes, his notes, his furniture. Now, they were invading his sanctuary, they were violating the place where he had chosen to live. It was an act that could not go unpunished. It was an act that would not go unpunished. He did not doubt that they would pursue him. What better way to halt such pursuit than to punish them for their insolence? Contrary to what was popular, he would let those who forced their entrance live to tell. Indeed- They would investigate him, draw conclusions from the connections he engineered, and they would undoubtedly report their findings at the police station. Then, when they had shared their approximations, the lies Red had created for them, their blood would simply refuse to circulate. Their hearts would over-exert themselves trying to pump something that couldn't be pumped, and eventually, they would collapse as their bodies were denied fuel. He willed it so, and so it became.

Red straightened his back and put on his suit and overcoat as the power he had accumulated settled over the room, then approached the window. The red curtains rippled softly in the wind, and on the other side, he thought that he heard a large collection of voices, different from the vocals of those who had caused his injury. In fact the street, filled with heavily armed policemen, with loud negotiators demanding his surrender, with dread-filled pedestrians.. Simply no longer existed to him. No- He heard an audience, that eagerly awaited the play that would start in well over half an hour, that lay beyond these curtains. He heard anticipation, enthusiasm, idleness. With a deep breath, he stepped through.


The curtains parted slightly, and a man appeared on stage. It was still far too early for the actual start of the play, so it took a minute before the whole crowd had taken note. When he had their attention, the actor bowed deeply and lowered his hat to his chest, where he held it in respect, as if for a funeral. He was dressed in a red as bright as the petals on a lover's valentine's rose, as the planet Mars, as a flame with a temperature between nine-hundred and one-thousand degrees celsius. But a single black band dared disturb the crimson surface of his visage, a simple adornment to the fedora he held low. "Good evening," the blood-garbed actor greeted his audience. ", and a wonderful one at that." A single line of life ran down his cheek, mixing in with his collar, where it simply seemed to disappear into the fabric. He smiled, and the audience waited eagerly as the man on stage analyzed his spectators.

Just when suspense would mutate into disinterest, the man inclined his head once more. "On a night like this," his voice boomed through the theatre, "a young man, a dreamer, glanced over those that had travelled far and wide to see him. The stars shone bright, the moon cast her spell on the audience.." The lights in the theater dimmed, safe some vague sparkles on the ceiling, which looked suspiciously like the stars themselves. "The young man, let's call him Rufus, kneeled", the actor kneeled to one leg, "and told his audience that not he was the one who had brought them to this point, but that they were."


Rising back to his feet, Rufus continued: "Perfection is an ideal, a goal. It is one that we may never reach, but it is one that in the path to its achievement gives us meaning. We work for it, we fight for it, we bleed for it." He gazed down on the crowd. "Some would fight not for this ideal, but for themselves. Some have lost sight of those things that make us human – altruism, reason, love – and dedicate themselves to olichargy, to love of money." Rufus stepped closer to his onlookers, just on the edge of his podium. "They secure means, possessions, power, then use these things to their further advantage, gathering more and more means to achieve little, meaningless personal pleasures in a self-centered, endless, desctructive cycle. They turn their power, their wealth against those who see no intrinsic value in them, oppress those, deprive them even of the fundamentals of life." He further rose his voice, raising a fist. "Still, they are but single actors. It is when those who are supposed to represent us abandon us that an unforgivable crime is committed."

"We are better, stronger, more numerous. Some of us live in filth. Others have managed to scrape together a living. But everyone who gathered here today recognizes that things have to change. Our mayor was not elected, but bought into office. The facts do not lie, nor do I. You are all aware of this, and we will let everyone else know." He took a few steps back on the stage, placing his fist over his heart. "I will do the fighting for you. They will seek to decapitate the movement that runs against them. He has the urban horrors in his pocket, and we know how powerful crime has become in this city. I am willing to risk my safety, my possessions and, indeed, even my life to combat the unscrupulous that rule this city."

They looked at him in silence, waiting for more, waiting to hear what he wished to do. "We should not become like them. I will run for mayor with but one promise: I will not solve all your problems." He smiled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We are powerless as long as those that make the decisions are corrupt, but even when they are removed from power the damage done to this city can not be solved by one man, by one generation. I will not claim that I can repair this damage instantly and by myself. It will take blood, time, and dedication. It will require a leadership without selfish interests. I promise you that leadership." Rufus breathed in deeply. He had been speeching to the crowd for well over an hour, and it had slowly swelled in size, into a horde that demanded more from him, that trusted him, that wished to follow him into the new dawn. He felt energized by their enthusiasm, by their willingness to listen, and he felt responsible for every pair of eyes that looked up at him. Eagerly, he continued. "And so.."


".. they twisted his words into threats, his promises into lies, his very name into an insult to the listener. The cruelest fate was his, for he who had once represented an idea, a devotion, had been twisted into a caricature, a depraved image of the man he really was." The actor's voice had grown grim, foreboding, and the cheek below his covered-up eye had grown dark red with dried up blood. "Rufus disappeared, and with him did the hope he had once embodied. He left a vacuum, and the powers that had destroyed him were all too eager to fill it. This is where we are today, and they will find that this vacuum will, in turn, destroy them."

The man rose his hat in greeting, then rested it calmly on his scalp. He spoke but one more sentence before he disappeared back between the curtains. "Remember that ideals can not be killed, only forgotten."

Red loses sight in his right eye to a bullet, fired by the SWAT team, that grazes along his face. – Zilch act (If you think that I need an act to survive this wound, so be it!)
Red removes any mention of Jacqueline from his board, but leaves any notes and newspaper scraps on Elton and Absolon as they were. – Zilch act
Red leaves a curse on his apartment at Yeoman's street 67. – Full Act

Spoiler: 'Sixty-Seven' (click to show/hide)

Apartment sixty-seven on Yeoman's street will feel eery to anyone entering it. Any mortal who has not been enchanted directly by magic will die between twenty-four and forty-eight hours after leaving the room (so technically, one can live the rest of their life in the apartment without being affected). The victims will die to a lack of oxygen, as blood will refuse to circulate, no matter the effort the heart puts into pumping it. As there will be no further damage to the body whatsoever, it may prove extremely difficult to discover the cause without knowing about the curse.

Red steps through two red curtains – the ones splattered by the blood from his wound – and reappears in a grand emergence in the theatre. (It's not a permanent portal from one point to the other, but a temporary gateway just for Red.) To the cops underneath his window it  merely appears as if the wind ruffled the curtains. - Full Act
Red performs in the theatre despite blood loss while the police assault the apartment, then makes his way further into the city, disappearing off the police's radar. – Zilch Act (I'm going to let you decide whether or not they actually liked his performance.)

[ragnarok97071]

Darkness.

Eternal darkness.

In the dream, there is no light. No sound. No space.

In Illumina's dream, there is nothing.

An eternal void, both infinite and minute.

She sleeps. She dreams dreams of non-existence, interspersed with a curious phenomenon...

Illumina Remembers.

She Remembers lives not her own. Lives of those Consumed.

She Remembers births, and she remembers deaths.

Joys and Sorrows, Pleasure and Pain, and all other things which taken together make the sum of a life.

So doth Illumina slumber, and in slumbering, learn.

She learns of faces and names departed.

She learns of what they knew, what they thought, what they dreamed.

Until, finally, she is dredged up, from the bottomless abyss of her slumber, her Stygian repose shattered as consciousness returns, bearing with it clarity, and knowledge, and wholeness.

Her eyes open. They see. A dilapidated building. Ruins, almost. Certainly condemned. She doesn't mind this. It seems oddly fitting, to her, as she rises, that she should awaken in such a dark, brooding place. There were two girls, arguing in hushed voices. About her, she assumes. About being watched. That she should leave.

That wouldn't do. This place was nice. She liked it. But being watched was not something she wanted.

So she rises, for the first time since arriving here, awake, finally, for the first time. She moves to the window, her footfalls light, quiet. "Watched... Where are they?" She asks, her voice startling the girl that she had spoken to, who, likely, had not expected her to ever rise, at this point, as the consumption of such quantities would take a not-inconsiderable period of time. Her voice had this effect normally, however, too. Such a dull, lifeless voice in a child tends to either worry or outright terrify those that hear it... less so with children, so this girl was likely not getting the full effect.

Thus was she directed to the building across the street and the man they expected to be residing there. Again, this would not do. "I will chase them off. I promise." She smiles, this time deciding to try something a bit less direct as she calls up her power. She slowly takes a few steps away before lowering herself to her knees in a gesture similar to praying, though the purpose of this is not supplication. The purpose, such as it is, is that it is easier to prevent oneself from collapsing if one is not standing up. Power is called, and shaped, and made into form.

The girl retches, first. her body convulses, as if preparing for an evacuation of her stomach contents, before doubling over, her neck seeming to stretch a bit as a black, tar-like fluid begins to leak from her mouth, dripping heavily onto the floor. Soon, the drip had increased to a steady flow, the puddle that had formed in front of her beginning to roil and seethe as more and more of the viscous matter is accumulated. After nearly ten minutes of such, it begins to rise, twist, braid itself together, taking form, taking shape, until a being not dissimilar to a snake rears in front of her.

Its body is black, dark as midnight, and covered with plates of chitin, armor to protect it, with plates around its head that taper to a razor edge. This creature, such as it is, sways back and forth before her, a low, keening hiss escaping it.

A single word issues from Illumina's lips, quiet, almost inaudible, but full of meaning.

"Seek."

And like an arrow, the snake races out of the building, pausing only to find a way from the building proper, eventually having to be let out by Illumina through the door while Karen stands where she had been when this process starts, the cigarette that had been between her fingers forgotten in the events she had witnessed.

The snake winds its way through the grass, emerging from the door in secret and slithering, unseen, across the barren sidewalk and street, moments later disappearing into a nearby drain.

---

The posting had been boring, for the man. Children had been all that he'd seen, and nothing like what he'd been warned of. A team had disappeared before, but there had been no attempt to cause any harm to him for the entire time he'd been here, so he had begun to relax, somewhat. Unfortunate for him that he had.

He'd managed to get the sewage system for the building working, to a point, and cleaned up a bathroom so he'd have somewhere to do his business on the job. This was his current situation, seated on a dirty toilet seat, doing his best not to think of anything that might have been growing on it, answering the call of nature.

A rattling noise is his only warning, lost in the cacophony of small sounds created by such a building, as the Sentry winds its way through the piping that he had only so recently installed.

And so the man does not know it as the Sentry's long, serpentine body climbs into the bowl underneath his form. He does, however, know when it strikes, powerful muscles running the length of its body driving it upward, striking him square in the center of his body at this point, driving the first six inches of its body into his. He screams as its sharp head threads its way into his body.

Then it starts to writhe and squirm, pushing and driving deeper into his body. It pierces him. It ravages him. It weaves through his body, consuming him. It would take only seconds before the pain prevents him from speaking.

It would be hours before he would finally be allowed to die.


Illumina consumes the souls and memories of those she has previously Devoured. (Zilch Act)

Illumina creates a Sentry, a foot-long, snake-like creature, and tasks it with eliminating anyone tasked with observation on her new home. This being does so by ambushing them, penetrating their body and consuming them from within, using their biomass to create more of itself. (1 Act)

[The Alchemist]

A thunderous roar of industry stood out in the midst of the Rust streets on one of the rare almost sunny days. The sun barely peaked out of the clouds, but that was much more than was usual for this city. It seemed that the industry breathed a bit of life in this desolate section of the city with more people willing to travel in it than ever before, that is to say still very little. They would take up lodging in Absolon’s factory, apparently enticed by the message he had brought to them. Some would stay others would leave; it seemed that many would leave due to the lack of any real civilization those that stayed had no better options. Fortunately there was no shortage of work to be done with the massive influx of capital that came from the auctions and sales promoting a non-stop production effort with those that stayed helping out however they could.

Lloyd sat on his newly purchased bed, which wasn’t exactly new, going over what finances he had. That is until his studies were interrupted by a lone bolter entering his office. Lloyd looked up disapprovingly and annoyingly grunted, “Yes, model … B-21? What is it?"

“A meeting has been requested of you?”

“So who exactly is requesting my presence?”

“My new owner, the one from the attack. He wishes to meet you at the Omega casino. Magnus is his name I believe.”

“Very well,” Lloyd sighed, “Wait outside. We’ll find out what this man wants together.” The Bolter quickly left and Lloyd contacted Adam, “You know that man that shot up my factory and nearly killed you? I’m sure you do. We’re meeting him at the Omega casino, hopefully he won’t cause any more issues with us but I’d rather you be there in case things go to hell.” Lloyd paused for a moment and Adam was about to speak, but Lloyd cut him off again, “I’m leaving now with Ayana and a bolter. I suggest you head there as soon as you can.”


Lloyd and his two companions approached the majestic casino and it was unusually attractive. Perhaps it was the architecture or the steady stream of customers, but something seemed off. It was probably due to the casino looking like it was properly maintained, at least that’s what Lloyd thought before he met with Adam who stood next to the fountain in front of the casino.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half,” Adam grunted under his breath trying not to make a scene.

“I do apologize, but currently my only transportation is walking. Now without further ado we do have a meeting to attend to.” Obviously annoyed Adam rolled his eyes but followed Lloyd into the casino with Ayana and the other Bolter.

They were quite a sight to say the least with a brightly dressed Lloyd almost swimming in color when contrasted next to Adam who had a rather dull blackish-grey trench coat on. In addition to that it didn’t help that Ayana followed Lloyd’s steps almost exactly but two paces behind and the constant heavy thuds from the two bolters walking. Lloyd apparently not noticing the stares or being so used to the strangeness of staying with his machinations walked nonchalantly to the nearest casino attendant, a semi-bored middle-aged woman. “Good madame, may I have your attention please? Yes, I am to meet someone named Magnus. It would be a great convenience if you could get him for me.”

Rather disinterestedly she responded, "I can check, but no promises on if I find him or not."

[Digital Hellhound]

The Omega receptionist drew back with the same almost-uncaring expression for a moment, muttering something into her radio. Mr. Capello had never really explained what the big man did here, but the general consensus was that he was with Security. He came and went as he liked - the boys in security would know where he was.

After a few moments with the security supervisor, the receptionist heard a click-beep as her call was transferred. A silky-smooth female voice dropped into her ears and she instantly sat up straighter. They all knew her. She tried to keep her voice calm and professional as she re-explained the situation, even though that voice sent shivers up her spine.

'Let them know their meeting is in the casino bar. VIP area,' the voice said.

'Ma'am, the VIP area is currently reserved for Mr. Strong and his entourage. Should I-'

'They will be leaving shortly,' the Coupe woman's voice said, sure as steel. The receptionist chose not to question, even though she suspected the playboy and his friends had no intention of taking their leave anytime soon.

She turned back to the waiting group instead, giving them her warmest fake smile. They were a strange lot, but she'd worked in the city's casinos for a long time. Letting it show would only have been rude.

'Right this way, err, sirs,' she said, gesturing beyond her. 'The terrace bar. You are expected.'

---

The path took them through the bustling casino floor and up a majestic, decorated spiralling staircase. A group of drunken youths passed them on the way down on the stairs, looking slightly confused and digging out their phones. Bouncers in black suits - Adam's experienced eyes could see they were too soft to be really useful - let them past, onto a wide balcony overlooking the main floor. Red sofas inset in the white, intercut with neatly-maintained plants, waited for them, as did a waitress with a tray of drinks. They attracted their odd glances, but the people waiting for them on the sofas did not look too surprised.

They all recognized the big man facing them on the back sofa, leaning forwards - he'd ditched the trenchcoat and fedora, but it was the killer from earlier. Next to him sat a petite woman in a red dress, studying them with smiling eyes and a slight smirk.

'Welcome to the Omega,' the woman said, breaking the silence. 'Please, take a seat. Have something to drink. Pleasure before business, no?'

Magnus spoke next, his expression set in stone. 'Right. The main reason you've been invited here is this regulator of yours. Excuse me if I look a gift horse in the mouth, but I'm not sure of what this thing does, exactly. There's also... matters that will be of future benefit to you that we should discuss.'

He coughed, seeming self-conscious. He let his gaze travel around the entourage - it widened in surprise when it reached Adam. He seemed at a loss for a moment before continuing. 'But first... introductions are in order. We like to know the names of the people we deal with, so, if you please...'

[The Alchemist]

"My, my, did you even read the letter I sent you? Regardless I am Lloyd Absolon, and my associates are my body guard Ayana, my chief of security Adam...um ... what was your last name? I don't believe I asked.

"It's Adam Denton," Adam sat down, stared directly at Magnus, and harshly continued, "and if you hesitate like that every time you meet someone you thought you killed you're not going to last too long. Not that I harbor any resentment." Adam tensed up ever so slightly as he curled his hand into a fist.

"Now, there Adam this is no time for aggression we came here to discuss matters aside from the attack. Now I must... oh wait, yes my last companion. This is Automaton model B-21 the same one I sent you that you were apparently unsatisfied with." Lloyd took his seat with the Bolter at his side and Ayana directly behind him. "Ayana dear you mustn't be so shy say hello to our hosts would you."

"If that is what you wish," Ayana said with an odd click at the end. "Hello to the both of you, you both have quite an odd air about you. You especially," she said pointing at Jack.

Lloyd took a second to admire the ornate decor and splendid aesthetic of the room before speaking all the while his almost distant expression not once leaving his face since he arrived. "Rudeness isn't the opposite of shy Ayana, but you are right. Now as I was saying before I distracted myself, I must assume that it is you madame that is his employer which if that is the case I am rather doubtful of your intent. But you have certainly made a good impression, it seems your residency is much more splendid than mine. Of course yours is for pleasure and mine for production. Speaking of which you said pleasure before business, well business is my pleasure," Lloyd said taking a drink and crossing one leg over his knee. "I do apologize I do rather drag on at times, so I'll try to keep this brief. Since I've given you our names I believe we've earned the right to know yours as well. And while you're telling us your names why don't you also tell us why exactly you attacked me and my family."

[Digital Hellhound]

Jack's predatory smile blossomed into its full incarnation at Lloyd's words. She made a small gesture, almost a shrug.

'Very keen of you, Mr. Absolon,' she said. 'I am indeed Mr. Rhodes' employer - I'm glad that is not a problem to you. My name is Jacqueline Coupe, and I do happen to own this place. You know my associate - Magnus Rhodes. I was not involved in the attack on your factory, I'm afraid, but perhaps Magnus would like to...?'

'It was nothing personal,' Magnus said, not moving his eyes from Adam. 'I was hired for the hit by a bunch of local fuck-ups who called themselves the Hoods - I suggest you take it up with them.'

'That's all in the past now, anyway,' Jack said. 'I think we could help eachother. It's obvious to me there's a certain similarity between us, Mr. Absolon. Yet, your position is obviously not very secure - if one man, although an extraordinary man, could cause so much damage to your residency, who knows how you'll fare against a dozen? A hundred? And you obviously have enemies.'

She paused, sipping her own drink.

'I can offer you a great deal of things, Mr. Absolon. Funding, if you need it, though I'm sure that concern is below you. Protection - in fact, I would propose you take revenge on this Hoods gang as soon as possible to show you will not be pushed around. I am sure Magnus would love to assist. There are also others of our kind - I can introduce you to them. And then... I am curious - you seem to be able to create a great many things. Perhaps we could take a tour of your factory - more peaceful than last time, I promise. I may find myself in need of something to be created for me, some day.'

'In any case, I do hope we can establish a working relationship. I like to make sure I don't have many enemies in this town.'

[Xantalos]

As a general rule, Merlin didn't get angry. For a wizard of his potency, strong anger was a dangerous thing - it disrupted the rythmns one's magic went through and made it dangerous to act. Sure, strong magic was possible in anger - Merlin himself knew that all too well from some unfortunate incidents in his youth. He still shuddered whenever he thought of the smoking corpse he'd left by the stables in that one town, the victim of young love. But conversely the magic was harder to control than when focus was put into it. An attemot to heat up a cup of water lead to a gush of flame pouring out of one's palm; moving a book to your hand summoned a miniature tornado. As a consequence, Merlin rarely got truly angry. It was practically a once-in-a-lifetime event for him.
Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not tempted now, he reflected as he paced.
Matthew had been gone for three days. Not the maximum of one that had been agreed on, not the unspoken two that might've occurred should something unusual turn out to be in the dilapidated house.
Three.
Merlin hadn't had an apprentice before Matthew for quite some time. Despite his apparent fame in advising a half-remembered king and building a court out of myth and hope, he'd only ever seen fit to impart his knowledge upon one other, and that ... hadn't gone well. She'd left him unpleasantly wooden in more than one sense of the word. He didn't like to think too much about it - the point was, Merlin didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling at the moment. Anger? Worry? Determination to get him back? He didn't know, and as he paced back and forth across the tiled floor the peculiar sense of uncertainty and tension and boiling uneasiness frothing in his gut came to a head, and as it escalated he paced faster and faster until finally he broke the circle he was wearing into the floor and resolved to go get Matthew back.
Of course, even without this strange sense of worry and responsibility hanging over his head he'd have gone and gotten the boy. He knew things now, and he was as as skilled with the spells as he'd been at his age. If he'd been captured by an opportunistic party, he could be used to break into his defenses, and that wouldn't do. The fact that he'd grown attached to the boy was an additional motivator.
Having made his decision, Merlin wasted no time. Soon he was out of the slacks and sweaters he normally wore around the house and in a darker outfit made of cloth that didn't hang off of him. That'd hopefully lend him a measure of unnoticeability. He took in hand his staff, but took care to dim it's glow, for it'd be unfortuitous for his tool of defense to give him away. Finally, he went about his manse and turned off every light, locked every door, and activated every security measure he'd installed in the place. Nothing too potent as of yet, though he'd be fixing that error soon enough. Once there was no sign of habitation remaining in the house, he slipped out the door, silent as he could manage.
They'd been watching the shop for long enough that they knew something was amiss. While to the regular observer the shop never displayed any signs of activity until one entered, these three knew the particular signs that indicated that Ambrosius or his assistant was within - a soft rustling sound, slight variances in the ambient light level of the store - and of course the heat signatures of the wizard and his apprentice as they moved around the shop. None of these were present today, which almost never happened. Compounded with the fact that this was the second day in a row that no one had been in the shop, they were all curious as to the wizard's whereabouts. Finally, after having watched for 50 hours with no response, they decided to draw straws to investigate. One of them was chosen and cautiously approached after donning civilian clothes. The door was locked with a common lock, but that was easily disabled and the agent proceeded inside. The room was dark, which was to be expected, as it was still early morning, before the sun peeked above the horizon. Scanning the room with his vision, the agent saw nothing unusual. The various surfaces in the shop, made of strangely knotted wood, were as devoid of dust as they always were, with the minor artifacts that normally scattered themselves over the shelves absent. Nothing out of the ordinary-
The agent's breath huffed out of his body as he was hit with a solid bar of shadows in the gut with enough force to knock him off his feet. Landing on his stomach, he gasped and sputtered as he struggled to bring breath back into his stomach. This must've been the security system we've been warned about - what was it again, animated - his thought process cut out as he saw several thin tendrils of darkness slip out of unlit corners. They hung before him for long enough for him to note that they moved almost like string before they whipped about his limbs and smoothly lifted him off the floor. Pretty dang effective, he managed to muse as he was tossed out the door.
As they saw their comrade hurtle out the door, the others quietly cursed and went to retrieve the insensate man, who'd have no memory of being tossed out in the first place.
'Well, looks like we'll be watching for a while longer,' said one. 'Go Fish?'
'Is that the only card game you know?'
'Only one I'm good at.'
The first one sighed. 'Fine.'
Merlin approached the tenement building in which Matthew had disappeared. Oddly enough he found himself disappointed by it. If Matthew truly had been abducted as he believed, he privately expected an organization willing and able to do that kind of feat to base themselves in somewhere less ... dilapidated. And the building truly was pathetic; barely standing up anymore, wet patches clearly visible in the concrete, another failed project of the city, half-completed a and left to die. It incensed Merlin to see it and so many of its kin in existence - the rulers of this city were clearly compromised and unworthy of the very title. It was simply one more thing he'd have to fix in this hellhole, he contemplated as he slipped toward the entrance as quietly as it was possible for him to do - that is to say, quietly. As he neared the door, he readied his staff for action, bringing the circuit of magical energy that ran within near to the surface, which manifested itself as an ever-so slight hum in his wrist bones and a subtle lightening of the staff's weight. As he proceeded inward, he let out a quiet breath he hadn't fully realized he was holding, and found himself wondering what he would encounter within. I hope for their sake that this comes to a peaceful resolution, he thought. After all, as that Tolkein fellow wrote, meddle not in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.

Merlin enters the building, subtle and quick to BURNINATE defend himself if necessary.

[The Alchemist]

"If I wanted to fight with you I would have done so Ms. Coupe, I don't benefit from such action and it is only detrimental to the both of us. And much like how revenge against you or more specifically Magnus is detrimental to me so would be my revenge against those delinquents, they will be dealt with in due time though. However, your question of my security is a grave one indeed, although that is easily rectified," Lloyd barely moved but seemed to let out a deep sigh.

"In any case I assume that automaton B-21 will be a satisfactory liaison between the two of us as well as an excellent assistant for whichever one of you you wish to assign it to. And you can visit my factory any time you wish, I'll make sure my new security system won't give you any trouble," Lloyd finished his drink and stood up. "Now I do believe that this is almost the end of our meeting, unless you have anything else to discuss or any objections I will leave automaton B-21 with you and be on my way. If I have anything that I require from you I'll make sure that it is known, but for right now I leave this as a distant relationship between us. Also if you have any needs that must be dealt with I'm sure we can come up with a fair exchange."

[Digital Hellhound]

Jack pursed her lips, a slight frown crossing her brow. Just as quickly as it had appeared, however, any sign of dissatisfaction fled her, and she granted Lloyd a wide smile. The glint in her eyes made it hardly friendly, but it seemed pleased, at least. She made to rise, Magnus following.

'That seems satisfactory for now, Mr. Absolon,' Jack said. 'I hope you will not grow to regret not accepting my offer of aid - next time, it may not be given so freely...'

She let them leave at their own pace. This was not entirely the outcome she had wished of this meeting, but at least she knew what to make of this man now. She considered what to tell Red the next time they would meet. But now... with this business dealt with, she had a whole another matter to attend to.

***

There'd been a lot of pain, light, and then darkness. If that was death, John decided, he'd been thoroughly disappointed.

The last thing he remembered was the butt of the girl's pistol heading for his forehead. Maybe she'd been trying to knock him out, but a piece of metal impacting with considerable force and speed on your skull wasn't quite as harmless as it seemed in the movies. Brain damage had probably done him in, then. The body was a fragile thing, he knew. John had seen it often enough - not everyone died with a neat hole or great big gaping wound. In any case, it seemed fair to say the whole hit, or at the very least his role in it, had gone totally balls up, with regrettably fatal consequences.

This didn't quite upset him as much as he expected. His thoughts seemed to be floating, coming in all at once, in no particular order. He felt some combination of drowsy and drunk, though nothing so physical. Everything was still dark, or maybe just void. Although... there was some far-away buzzing he could hear if he stretched his senses - though, it occurred to him, surely he could not have ears? To be devoid of everything except his ears seemed absurd - the mental image of two disembodied ears floating through the void was enough to make him chortle.

A moment later, John blinked in surprise. He had chortled, which should have been a complete impossibility without anything resembling a functional mouth and/or vocal chords.

...blinked?

The buzzing abruptly kicked up several notches, filling his ears. It seemed to be coming from everywhere around him - but then, only a second later, localized somewhere ahead of him. Or perhaps above. Though, given that just making such distinctions had been beyond him only moments - atleast it had felt like just moments - ago, perhaps that wasn't the most important matter to consider.

The noise grew louder, more clear. John could make out different sounds, which seemed to him suspiciously much like words. He felt he could understand them if only he focused, and-

'Open your eyes, John,' the noise solidified, becoming the voice of the girl from... it seemed, an eternity ago.

'I don't have any,' he heard his own voice respond, and blinked again.

The world flashed in view. Slowly, warily, John opened his eyes. Light flooded in, painful for a moment, then turning into a recognizable, physical world. At the same time, he felt himself wrapped in a comforting shell of skin, muscle and blood again, as if it had never been gone from him at all. Though... something seemed to be missing. A lot of something.

'I... don't suppose you've taken me skiing in Finland, ma'am?' he managed, momentarily amazed at his waking wit.

It atleast looked white enough for that, though after a while his surroundings turned into a drab white security room instead. He was still in the casino. In fact, he knew exactly where he was in the casino, which... was curious, given he'd never set foot inside the place before the hit. It seemed to him he knew a lot more things that just his senses and previous knowledge should have been able to impart on him.

'I'm sorry to say that's a bit impossible, as things stand,' Jack said, coming into view - John frowned, seeing her tower over him. She hadn't been nearly this tall before. Without another word, Jack reached towards him and placed her hands on both sides of his head. John protested, trying to lift his arms, but found nothing there. A moment later he was in the air, somehow lifted by the diminutive girl, and-

John looked down and realized he was completely lacking a body. Where he'd assumed he'd been standing was a chair his head had obviously been placed on. There was no sign of the reliable old sack of organs and muscle that had gotten him out of several nasty situations. He bit into his cheek, half in panic - that was there alright, but he could feel or see nothing below his jawline.

'Yes, I'm afraid so,' Jack said, confirming that he wasn't just imagining things. The girl turned around with him still in her grip, showing the interior of the room. A big man, looking at them like he'd just seen the most grotesque thing in his life, was standing by the door. John vaguely recognized him from the briefing as her protector, Rhodes. That C4 had gone to waste.

'Look on the bright side,' she continued, 'you're functionally immortal, you'll never age and lose those boyish good looks, you don't have to worry about food, or money, or anything for... well, forever, I guess.'

She turned him to face her. John took in the features - sharp features too predatory to be pretty, a strange birthmark, reddish-brown hair - and found himself looking into unsettling pulsing eyes. Somehow, he managed to get his mind wrapped around what she'd said.

'I don't have a body,' he said, the fact still a bit hard to grasp. 'I don't... I don't have a body.' A moment later, he had another thought that hadn't seemed so important earlier; 'You killed me!'

'Don't be absurd. It was more of a... stasis. I'm sorry about the body, but we can't have you going where you please. You're going to notice I've granted you some interesting skills while you were out - that, and the whole living head thing. I think I will find an use for these in the time to come.'

'Hey, I'm not saying I'm not grateful...' John said, and paused. The fact she'd done a whole variety of impossible things to him paled in comparison to the fact she expected him to do as told just like that. 'Well... actually, I'm not that grateful. So, if you expect me to be any help to you, you've got it-'

'Where are we?' she cut in. John was about to continue, but... he had a very clear idea that they were in the second floor of the Omega Casino, the security room of the VIP wing, the door at the end of the corridor. More than that, he could tell the three of them were in the room, and that the big guy had a Tommy Gun inside his coat - he felt he could go into the specific workings and likely use of that if he just focused...

All of this came babbling out his mouth. Jack smiled, nodding slightly. 'Congratulations, John,' she said. 'You've just become my new security specialist.'

She patted his head, ignoring John's gaping mouth. He had a feeling this day was going to get a hell weirder still.

---

Full Act: Jack turns the disembodied head of John the goon into the sapient, disembodied head of John the reluctant security system. John becomes a tome of information on any and all threats, direct or indirect, on Jack and her belongings (which, one supposes, goes to include those who work for her) and is magically bound to tell only the truth to anyone who asks. This will absolutely never backfire on her.

[The Alchemist]

Lloyd and his party left the casino with as much notice as they entered, just a few odd stares but no one paying them much mind. Once outside Adam stood in front of Lloyd, “why didn’t you take her offer? We could have definitely done with some better security.”

Lloyd continued walking, “that will all be attended to in time Adam, but I do not wish to owe anyone anything especially someone like miss Coupe. No matter how innocent she seems she will likely tear apart anything that gets in her way. Not like I plan to get in her way or anything, but I don’t want to trust my security into someone so predatory. That relationship would only work well for as long as we stayed on good terms and since I don’t know her long term goals I don’t hold much stock in any agreements we make now.”

“Y’know it’s amazing how you can speak so much, but say so little.”

“It’s been a talent of mine for many years, now if you don’t mind I need to head back to the factory.”

“Hey wait up you idiot. No way am I letting you walk all the way back on your own, come on let’s take my car. You two love-birds can sit in the back.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lloyd grimaced as Ayana let out a small smile.

“Right, right, that’s what they all say. Now go on in.” Adam held open the back door to his car, it was an old gray thing that was pretty beat up but well maintained nonetheless. Lloyd and Ayana sat down in the back seat and both glanced at each other for less than a second before they both quickly turned their heads away. Adam just laughed at their antics while he got in the drivers seat and started the car. After a few minutes of silence Adam finally said, “So what exactly is our plan from here?”

“The same it’s always been at least for me. Right now though we need to up our security or else the goals I have will never be reached.”

“And what exactly are those goals?”

“Right now All I want to do is create a world in which good people can live in without having to worry about the problems of the real world or others making their lives hell.”

Adam chuckled for a good while before responding, “Quite a noble goal Absolon, I didn’t have you pegged for the idealist type.”

Lloyd shied away to the window opposite of Adam’s and meekly responded, “Everyone is an idealist I’m the only one who takes their ideals realistically it seems. My plan won’t work without years of effort and I wouldn’t like any outside influences messing with my work.” Ayana noticing Lloyd shying away tried her best to try to appear comforting, but ultimately just sat where she was at.

“Is that the real reason you turned down her offer?”

“Just be quiet. I’m not in the mood for anymore questions.” A few more minutes passed before Lloyd sat back where he originally was and started speaking as if nothing happened, “So Adam has there been anything serious that’s been going on?”

“You mean aside from the mayor being assassinated?”

“Wait the mayor was killed?!”

“How am I not surprised that you didn’t know, it’s almost expected for you to not know anything at this point.”

“Well at least that’s helpful for our goals, with that in mind there is something that I need you to do. I need you to talk with police chief Vimes and see if we can get some police support with clearing the rust streets of gangs. We will offer as much support as we can whether they want us as a supplier or as a more direct help. I’m sure with the mayor out of the way this is the perfect time for the police to expand their power and earn back a little bit of that respect that they’ve lost over the years. Oh and also make sure the bolter they received is playing nice with them.”

Adam just nodded wordlessly as he pulled up in front of the factory and let Lloyd and Ayana out. Lloyd entered into the center-most part of the factory as Adam pulled away, “attention all automatons I require as much metal as we can gather at this exact spot!” After a few minutes a more than sizable pile of scrap metal accumulated at Lloyd’s feet. Rather wordlessly Lloyd just sat there concentrating it seemed as the metal started sinking into the ground creating an ever-expanding circle of metal that slowly crept out of the factory and continued out into the street. After about an hour all of the metal had become a part of the metallic circle that now stretched a bit more than a block in every direction from the factory.

Production in the factory had ceased for all of that time as there was nothing left to make things with and was more silent than it had ever been in months with groups of automatons standing in the factory floor with Aldrow overlooking it with a bored expression on his face. Ayana sat in front of Lloyd waiting for him to finish as she had always done and once Lloyd finished and sat against the wall she joined him as they both enjoyed the silence in the factory. They could finally hear each other, but neither said a word.

Full Act: Lloyd creates The Citadel, a defensive structure that radiates from the center of the factory and can wall off certain individuals as they enter its floor. The Citadel can raise walls from any part of its floor in order to trap individuals or even crush them, its walls also contain small guns that can be used to fire at intruders that are either outside or inside its domain. There is also a box, much like the shape of a paper shredder but with a larger opening, in which metal can be deposited in order to increase The Citadel's size.

Null Act: Lloyd sends Adam to talk with police chief Vimes in order to attempt to convince Vimes to help them out in securing the Rust Streets as well as setting up a deal with the police in which Lloyd will help supply them for revenue as well as some favors. If Adam is shown the bolter that they have he will calm it down and take it back to the factory and send a replacement. If Adam cannot convince Vimes to help out he will attempt to convince other officers to help on their own.

[10ebbor10]

The city was falling apart. It was a truth exposed to all, though one only few could see. It was a collapse that had started a few years ago, roughly when Cartel first appeared in the city, though Robert was no fool to confuse correlation with causation. The city's social structure long been hollowed out by drugs, crime and corruption was, like most of it's buildings, slowly falling apart. The three-way stalemate between the Mob, the Mafiya and the police forces had been disturbed, and violence was escalating . The city had never been one the most stable of places, but now it was sliding down in the abyss.

Robert typed a few words into the terminal, and the lights in the lab dimmed. Another code, and a beamer activated, projecting a chart onto the wall. On it, were the names of the most powerful people in town, editors, bankers, industrialists and many others. It was a crude map, but it went a long way in explaining who actually ran this place. A problem was almost immediately apparent. Quite a few of the people high on the list were recently deceased, mostly members from the Criminal underground. A few of these were obviously targets of the Cartel, but the others were more problematic.

Just two weeks ago, while he was testing the Elerium Detection Network, it detected a major anomaly. While the system had a habit of picking up ghost signatures all across town, this one was different. It flared up, seemingly from nowhere, then concentrated on a single location near the center of town, then disappeared completely. A nearby drone was diverted to the epicenter of the disturbance, and only barely managed to evade J. Fadei, Mafiya Kingpin as he made his way down from his penthouse to the ground floor. The penthouse itself didn't look much better, as it appeared most of Irish Mob, and a significant part of the Mafiya had witnessed the epicenter of whatever the disturbance had been, and didn't live to tell the tale.

Normally, that alone would have been enough to throw the Underworld in Chaos, rocking the city on it's rotten foundations. But a few days ago, a sniper killed the Mayor, Thomas Azur. While Robert was happy to see him go, the Mayor had been one of the few things that kept this city stable. Without him, and with both the Mafiya and the Mob bereft of leadership, a three way war seemed inevitable. And somehow, even the Mayor had foreseen this. Thought it had probably his paranoia, or the result of an old political rivalry, he had ordered, that the blame for all these things would fall to one man.
Red Kirmiz.

The Phoenix, as he was also referred to in the Police database. Robert had send his drones to shadow him, but they had found no trace of him since the SWAT raided his apartment. He gave the Mainframe the order to remain alert, and made plans in the future. It's a common technique to trace people by their cellphones, and while he doubted anyone in this city would fall for that, the system can also be applied in reverse. If you know a person's location, you can trace their phone, and give them a call. The message itself was simple, an anonymous invitation for a quiet conversation. No other information, not even a phone number, as if the message directly originated from the Telecom mainframe.


There were however, more pressing concerns. The missing drone had been found, located in the Bogmolev estates, most likely now in possession of some gang who had no idea what they had themselves into. Sadly, what these gangs lacked in intelligence, they made up for in numbers and brute force. It appeared, that this was a mission he had to delegate. This city was not short in hired killers, though finding one that was both cheap, competent and honest was an impossible mission. And he highly doubted he could find one willing to work for free. Then again, there was no problem in trying.

For now, he would focus on a more controllable solution. Robert's work with Elerium was continuing, and it was slowly giving away it's results. A recent experiment had shown that the normally solid Elerium crystals, if subject to vibration at a specific resonance frequencies, would loosen their crystallic nature and enter a semi-fluid state. He had also found that it was slightly unstable , and slowly degenerated in a rather exothermic reaction, making it an excellent and compact power source. Additionally, the sonic emitter that kept the Elerium in it's state, could, if modified slightly, be used to destroy it as well, together with most of the immediate surroundings.

The Elerium Investigator is based on this principle. A reinforced Carbon sphere holding a small amount liquid Elerium droplets suspended in an electric field forms the core of the device. The electric field keeps the Elerium from touching the sides of the spheres, ensuring that the sonic emitter can keep them in their liquid form. Decomposition of the elerium causes heat, which is then turned into electrical power used to keep the system functioning, as well as provide power to the electrical turbines that keep the entire assembly in the air and provide power the sphere's other equipment; . This version is however, not defenseless. The entire sphere is laid out like a miniature version of the mimetic core utilized by the mainframe.

In the event that the system feels itself to be threatened and can not escape, it can open the exterior shielding, deactivate it's sonic generator, and expose the threat almost directly to the Elerium. Though still contained by the electric field, the elerium's effects would knock anyone nearby. In case of direct contact to the craft, the effects are more severe. At best, a comatose corpse will remain, though the victim will not die. Feeding of the last brain activities of the victim, the Elerium inside the core will solidify, forming a crystalline structure mimicking that of the recently deceased's brain. This structure can then be digitized, uploaded to the central mainframe where it can be stored safely, and perhaps one day restored. Once the upload is complete, the Elerium can be re-liquefied and the craft's power output restored. Should damage occur to the crystalline matrix beforehand, major damage to the consciousness of the person is expected.

This functionality is hidden, neither evident from sight of the system nor from the design plans.

Spoiler: Elerium Investigator (click to show/hide)

Propulsion : 6* Electric Turbine
Armour: Small caliber bullet proof.
Weaponry:
   - Sound: High frequency sounds commonly found annoying
   - Mimetic Override: Deadly weapon uploading someone's consciousness to a central computer. The 5 cm variant can not sustain a transfer on it's own; the largest variant can transmit multiple groups at a time.
   - Self Destruct: Yield varies based on Elerium load. The 5 cm variant contains about 50 grammes, the 1 meter variant as much as 20 kg.
Size: Multipe variants, ranging from only 5 cm diameter to a massive version with a core diameter of 1 meter.

Half Act : Creation of the Elerium Investigators
Null Act : The Mainframe is instructed to track down Red Kirmiz, once it has found him, it shall try to utilize a nearby secure phone to invite him for a quiet conversation.
Null Act : Send a group mid sized Elerium Investigators to Bogmolev Estate. They were to observe the site, but not to intervene unless nessecairy. (Merlin storming in counts as nessecairy)
Null Act: A spy drone will deliver a simple message to Magnus. It's a printed piece of paper with the following three sentences.
                   - Location : Bogmolev Estate
                   - Mission : Recovery of equipment. Equipment Identical to deliverer of this message. Do not destroy or damage equipment.
                   - Reward: TBD

[Fniff]

Turn Six: Lot of Talking, Lot of Bad People
"If the gods are in disarray, we will destroy the gods. If the people are in disarray, we will destroy the people. If the universe is in disarray, we will destroy the universe."
- The Book of Darkness and Light
Six Months Until Arrival
It sees the door open, then slam shut. No matter. It can wait. It can wait forever.
Frank had been told that the Mafiya contact would meet him here, at this diner. The food was unusual, the decor unlikely. Bright and blinding, a twisted parody of the typical American 1950s diner. Frank regarded it with suspicion and outright horror at points, as he watched the falsely attractive waiters and waitresses. It was appealing to sense of nostalgia he did not possess.

They weren't there before but they were there now. Man in white coat, green eyes. Thing in gasmask, hoodie, smile painted on. Frank didn't jump in shock, but he certainly didn't appreciate it. They exchanged looks like merchants in a market somewhere south of Dubai. Quickly, and with fear only on one end.

"I fear I state the obvious." said Frank. "But you are not who I am looking for."

"Of course not." says the man in the white coat. Frank guessed that the stranger one was not the talking type. Where did he see that thing again? The Heart's Desire game? Cards was way off his mind. "Yes, you were more concerned with spying on Jack Coupe, weren't you?"

"I didn't say that!" said Frank. "What are you gabbling about? Get out of here immediately. I have business."

"You didn't. That's why I read your mind." said the man. Why was Frank not surprised? This was a very odd city. "It's getting odder by the second and I am vastly enjoying it. Except for you. I can see every minute of your existence play out. It is very annoying for my efforts."

"Is it capable for you to stop reading my mind?" said Frank.

"Somehow, I doubt it is." said a voice from a figure wrapped in black paper, vaguely Chinese. "He enjoys indulging his own power. If you had that, you would to. That's the reason for all of this, isn't it? You gave the photos to the Mafiya, they sent a hit squad to Jack... but Jack won. Since you can't spin Jack to your side, you're on the run. I wouldn't call you the match that lit the gas can up... but your continued presence is not helping the city or Jules's plans."

"How many people are at this table?" said Frank, on the cusp of yelling. "As I understood, there were zero people at this table, but now there are three!"

"Four." said the Green Eyed Man, smiling. Frank had his head grabbed, then slammed into his eggs and bacon. His eyes covered in yolk, he looked through a film of yellow and red. A monstrous form in the shape of a man in a skull mask who was bigger then anything should be. Of course. "Meet the Stranger, the Speaker, the Soldier. I thought the Speaker was a Scarecrow for a while, but that's actually a comic book villain. These are the lords of despair and they don't have much to say at all. But I do. What I have to say is that your time is up. You could have left, you could have redeemed yourself by helping, but none of those options gave you enough power, did it? Not enough money."

Frank stared at the group. "I have money. You can have as much as you like."

"We know." said the Speaker as Jules thought of something that would certainly drive you mad. "We don't need it."

Frank felt Jules's stare. He almost screamed. He almost attracted help. But he didn't. And soon he was gone. No-one was in the diner except for a waitress locking the door and a man in a white coat, who stood up and adjusted his collar, and looked at you. "Don't worry.  When we come to blows, it will be less painful." Then, he was gone too.

Leaving you all alone.

Merlin
Basement. Dark. Dirt. Matthew watched. All people, in a row, staring at wall. All masked. One spoke. All followed.

"Oh Angel, guide us in darkness, guide us through the lies, guide us in pain, guide us in heresy and madness, guide us until we find the light." he said. Repeated in unison.

Matthew couldn't move. Too sick. Crawled through shit and corpses, but it wasn't that. Felt like paralyzed, dying. Entered large chamber, pregnant with crates of guns and supplies. For army. For war. Matthew was afraid. Felt like his body was removing parts from itself, making itself less complicated until it was one simple thing. Sadly, simple thing did not include himself.

The talker stopped chanting and preached. "Before, in the age of legends, the gods commanded us to do as they said and punished us dearly. Gods were false, wrong. We are humanity. We were below you but we outnumbered them and outgunned them. We follow the one god and that is the Angel. No other will match in anything the Angel has. They tell us now that this is the Age of Fire and it shall never end. It will end and it will be done by our hand. We are the Inquisitors. For every god that rises, we destroy it. And all should remember... even Gods can burn."

Raised their flamethrowers, chant began anew. Matthew hiding under table, could only think of the chants.

Later (years or hours?), they raised their hands around stolen items. A broken robot. A dead bug. A crushed lizard. A smashed jar. A cracked gasmask with a bloodstain on it. A dented regulator. A crushed piece of glass. They began to call out to their lord. Then it happens. Light and fire, lightening, gunfire. Blood spilt upon the rubbish. A man in a long trenchcoat with a tommy gun. Merlin, full of rage and casting so many spells that the room is filled with dark light and vibrant darkness and blood.

But it doesn't help. The ritual is well under way. A rip in reality.

A person in a long black cloak with a white plague mask that looks like a bird. Caw, Matthew thinks deliriously. They stepped forward. Merlin and the man fell over, gasping for breath like fish brought to the surface. And like kraken brought to the beach, they begin to scream and hold their heads as the magical content in the room suddenly drops completely to absolute zero, which it wasn't far above anyway. Matthew feels the end come. His entire existence is being rewritten to a single word. It is over.

It wasn't. It couldn't have been. It would not be. The man in the white coat reached forward and closed the portal. As they lay twisting on the floor. the man in the white coat gave Matthew a helping hand.

Matthew stood up and looked into those green eyes. "What was that?"

"The end of all things." said the man. "But it doesn't matter, son. How is tricks?"

Somehow, Matthew isn't surprised. Somehow, Matthew knows that his true dad's name is Jules. "You know. Getting up to stuff. You doing alright?"

"Yeah, apart from the fact we just saw the god who is definitely going to end this universe in one way or another, I am doing fine." said Jules. "Listen, Matt, I'm very happy to see you but I have to rush. Don't tell Merlin, okay? I understand how two are, he's the father I couldn't be, you're the son he never had, I know it all off by heart. Chin up, eyes forward, remember I love you."

Matthew smiled for the first time in three days, and felt his near-death from dehydration and seeing something more terrifying then he could ever consider was ultimately a minor downside to what was otherwise a great day. Just as Jules was about to leave (and not many people know when that is), Matthew said "Hey, uh, Jules. We should... talk when I'm not still reeling from whatever the fuck that was."

Jules looked at him with a slight look of sadness. Matthew wouldn't call him dad for a while, if ever, but he seemed to hold hope of it. "Yes, that would be a good idea." And then, he was gone.

Later, when he was walking back with Merlin after the man in the trenchcoat had seemingly shown himself out after Merlin's awakening, he asked "Hey, Merlin, I was reading about this uh, guy. Called Jules. Green eyes, white coat, know anything about him?"

Merlin went pale, but continued. "Unfortunately, I do. He's one of the most powerful gods, behind the sphere of chaos. He is known as the Eater of Worlds, the Blood that Brings the Harvest, the Storm that Brings Forth Darkness. He spreads across worlds like a virus. Dangerous but luckily very far away from us. Where'd you read about him?" Matthew saw an inch of suspicion, so he dialed it back.

"Oh, uh, you know... the Chronicles of uh... Skulduggery... Pleasant." said Matthew. More silence. "Also, some of the Dresden Files. Fantasy writers are apparently really on the money about eldritch gods it turns out. Should have listened to them. Yes. I think the thirst is messing with my head so you should really just ignore me, Merlin."

Thankfully, Merlin did.
Matthew sees something that drains his magical potential, Magnus was only seen by Matthew, and meets his father who is unfortunately Jules. Merlin manages to eliminate at least some of the cult inside the estate. Merlin recognizes the effects of being exposed to... whatever that was to be similar to anti-magic creatures, but on a much larger scale then anything he's ever encountered.

Robert
Joan replayed the footage of the elerium investigator again and again as the hitman droned on about this and that. Despite his status as a killer, Joan didn't feel threatened by him. She didn't feel threatened by many things. The mainframe made her feel strong. The mainframe made her a digital goddess in the right circumstances. How could one feel powerless after that? She always thought of thanking Robert for making it, but never did. That'd be odd.

"You know," he said, finally. "I think your little mission was the first time I was in real risk of dying. I completed your job and then some. I'm one of the best hitmen in the city, and I'm definitely on the shortlist for best hitmen in the world. Every criminal organization worth a dime is coming to my door and asking me to sort out their garbage. So I think I'm worth a little more then 30 big ones. Make it 80 and then we can start talking."

"Ahuh. Yeah, about that." she said, distantly. So it goes in, goes through the corridors, down through the hole, footage is fuzzy. Then it goes into this big churchlike area, and then it just goes to static. When it stops being static around five minutes later, everyone is dead apart from three people: a man with a long white beard, some kid in jeans and a shirt with a staff, and Magnus. Well, there is this one odd part where it looks like the kid is talking to someone, but they could be talking to Magnus or the bearded man. Probably the latter. "I think we can make it 30."

"80." said Magnus. "I'm not going any lower."

"Right. The thing is, while the criminal syndicates you work for may have lower standards then Mr Robert does, we are a scientific company. We desire perfection. What we got was a lot of fried spy drones. Robert and I are very, very disappointed." said Joan, reversing the footage back to the static-y bit. There seemed to be some sort of a figure in there, but the footage was too fuzzy and unfortunately you couldn't enhance images like in movies. "Consider yourself lucky we haven't written you off completely. I'm wondering how a supposedly invincible hitman is able to claim he almost get himself killed. Then again, that seems about right since someone being invincible is impossible."

"Believe what you want. I got you your bugs. Now you're going to pay me or else." said Magnus. Before she could respond, her mother came in.

"Joan, have you done your homework yet? It's Sunday and you're just fooling around on that computer." said her mother. "And who are you calling at this hour?"

She waved her mother away while covering the phone. "Uh, yeah, about that homework, I'll get to it in a minute!" she said, smiling. "I'm doing it right now, just got a call I need to take."

"Oh for God's sake, Joan, I can see you're just browsing the internet." said her mother.

"Mom, it's research. And the call, mom!" said Joan, pointing desperately at the phone. "Can't keep him waiting."

"Him?" said her mother. "Oh, I cannot believe this! Give it here." And before Joan could resist or strike back, her mother ripped the phone from her and began speaking.

"Yes, is this Joan's boyfriend?" said her mother. "... Who is this? No, you aren't going to speak to Joan, this is her mother. Really? Oh. oh." Without a word, Joan was handed the phone, and her mother swiftly exited the room looking very pale. Joan held up the phone to her ear.

"What did you just say to my mother?" said Joan, with carefully managed anger.

"What I'm more concerned about is the fact this is the first time I've ever been hired by someone under eighteen." said Magnus, on the cusp of laughing. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Whether I do or not is none of your importance!" said Joan.

"Hahaha, oh God... You sound a lot older then you are, you know." said Magnus. "Now, about paymen--"

Joan hung up and flung the phone to the table. After seething for a while, she picked it up again and called up Robert from his secret number. It didn't even take him one ring to pick up, and she could hear the whirrs and clicks she recognized to be the Mainframe even from the dulled sound of the phonecall. She felt a bit calmer hearing the sounds of it.

"What is the situation, Joan?" said Robert.

"The situation is fucked. Magnus wants 80 grand and he sounds very angry about it, too." said Joan. "His respect went down significantly for us when my mother burst in and stole my phone. She won't be doing it again but she probably doesn't trust me. I think she might get an idea that I'm working with you."

"Creating a new world is a bad thing now?" said Robert.

"It is when your daughter's doing it. I'd love it if I was an orphan or something, but those only exist in bad fantasy novels." said Joan blithely. "Maybe I could stay at your place or something? I'm sure my parents would get over me being a runaway after a day or two. Probably write a book about it or something."

"You show a profound disregard for your parent's wellbeing." said Robert.

"Please, they show a profound disregard for mine unless it directly impacts their bank account or how good they look at the next PTA." said Joan. "They can go hang. So, could I stay at your place?"

After a horrible moment of silence, Robert replied "I'll think about it."

Joan hoped he thought about it the right way. Her family was growing less and less important by the second, and it seemed that after this incident they would grow to be a threat to her new life. And that would not stand.
Magnus wants 80,000 dollars at least after recovering several broken spy drones, and Joan wants to be put up for the night after a misfortunate incident with her mother.

Illumina
The darkness was broken by the flicker of a lighter. With a *flick*  sound, it enclosed the room again. There was a long drag, and the cigarette flicked a few ashes onto the ground. Agent Dolores was getting impatient. When she got impatient, she needed a cigarette.

"I won't ask you again." said Agent Dolores. "What is Illumina Vasquez?"

Matron Gwen was covered in blood, tied to a chair with her vomit on the ground. "I told you... she's just a runaway."

Agent Dolores extended the baton once again, then hit Gwen in the ribs. Hitting her in the head would dull the pain and anywhere else wouldn't hurt as much. Dolores heard the ribs snap and tried to keep her disgust to herself. Gwen didn't have the energy to scream now: they had been doing this for hours. "I'm not hearing what I want to hear. Let's get more specific. Is she an orphan or a foster kid? Has any unusual incidents occurred relating to her? Any unusual visitors?"

"Oh yes, yes!" said Matron Gwen, with the air of one of Pavlov's dogs... when the bell rings, you drool. When Dolores asks you something you know, you start talking or get another beating. "A man. Green eyes. White coat. Said he was related to her. I didn't get a name... he just sat with her and helped her draw a bit."

"Right." said Dolores. "That makes things interesting. Thanks, Gwen Ryans, you've been of great assistance to my organization. You've really helped out America."

"Are you going?" said Gwen hopefully, with a mouth full of blood. "I need to get to the hospital."

"Oh, you're going to the hospital." said Dolores, adding in her head In a body bag. She drew her sidearm, pressed it up against the old lady's head. Before she could scream, before she could react in any way, the whole thing was over. The muzzleflash gave Dolores a tableau of fear and blood. She left the room, walking through a corridor filled with bunkbeds, scared children's eyes watching her.

A man in a gasmask and combat gear waited outside. "Agent Dolores. What is our standing orders?" he asked.

"Torch the place." said Dolores, taking another drag of the cigarette. "Bar the doors, I don't want a single soul getting out of this place alive. This whole operation stays quiet. This isn't a gangland incident, this isn't a surprise massacre, this is a real fucking tragic incident which shows why you should keep up fire safety when children are involved. Any of the children get out, you kill them. And if I hear one Orphan Anne stirring up shit about black ops burning down her orphanage, I will be very angry. I'm sure you handle it, though."

The soldier nodded, and motioned to his men. Dolores didn't watch the orphanage alight, didn't listen to the screams of the children, and didn't need to hear the muffled sounds of bursts from a suppressed M16A4. She went to her car and turned her smartphone on, then began to read the dossier on the latest situation. You had the other gods, but she was here for Illumina. The rest hadn't presented a threat to the organization and may even be assets. Illumina, though, she needed to be on a slab for dissection. She had ripped apart Hades 13 men, and that didn't fly for Dolores.

Speak of the devil. Illumina killed a guy. As she read the report on his death, Dolores eyes widened. Damn gruesome way to die. Looks like the watchmen were being watched and Illumina didn't like it. This made several things interesting... She flicked to the cameras trained on Illumina's little shithole she had herself hidden. Outside the little rats that she had companied herself with were playing. No, fighting. With Illumina herself. Dolores had came at just the right time.

The leader, Karol with a K, was behind Illumina. The rest were against her. Pushing and shoving, and from the microphones there was indistinct shouting. Looks like the little shit is getting a welcome she deserves, thought Dolores with glee. Then a plan starting forming. A little something from the Hades 13 guidebook on arming rebels. When you have a revolution brewing, all you need is some asshole, a gun to give them, and someone to point it at.

Same principle applied here, thought Dolores. Steps 1 and 3 were done... and all she needed was step 2.
Hades 13 burns down the orphanage Illumina was at and learns an interesting tidbit about her past. There is a lot of tension against Illumina for an unknown reason (That Ragnarok may supply if he wishes) with Karol siding with Illumina. However, one of the kids in the gang may be supplied a gun by a Hades 13 agent with the purpose of being used to kill Illumina.

Red Kirmiz
Johnny read the newspaper under the harsh light of the diner. It had been an interesting month. He certainly didn't expect the mayor to get himself shot and for the mafiya to have a very sudden purge. The mayor was of most concern. For now the city council was "considering an emergency election in the foreseeable future", which mean "we have no idea what is going on anymore, so let's just pretend that this city is actually a democracy while we deal with the fact that our version of Caesar just got his ass whacked".

The waitress went to pick up his empty bowl of soup, giving him a scowl. "You know, maybe you should leave."

"I'm buying a coffee." said Johnny, putting down the newspaper. "You'll have to put up with me for five more minutes."

 "Hey, as far as I know, this isn't a homeless shelter." said the waitress.

"Coulda fooled me," said Johnny politely. "When I go to the shelter, the food's awful and the staff are assholes."

"Fucking bum." said the waitress, departing his table. Johnny muttered under his breath about not leaving a tip this time, then returned his gaze to the newspaper. Then his heart jumped. The assassin had a piece of red colored glass in his possession. He looked at the assassin's name again. He swore he mailed that piece of glass to that name. Did Johnny just become an essential part of assassinating the mayor? The goddamn mayor?

He took out his phone and began paging through it. He had gotten a steady job holding a sign at Mayland Avenue, and while it wasn't good pay he saved up. Now he had a pay as you go phone and he never felt prouder. He felt like he was getting back control of his life. Red had given him a phone number to ring if needed. It was now he needed to.

"Hello, Johnny." said Red through a haze of static. "No time, no speaking."

"Red," said Johnny, very slowly and quietly. "Did you get me involved with an assassination plot?"

"Ah. Now, listen, Johnny." said Red.

"You listen. I did not sign up for whatever the fuck this is. Helping the homeless, fine. Figuring out who caused that shootout, that's great! But killing the fucking mayor? Guy was a scumbag, sure," said Johnny. "But this is killing people. How the hell are you better then any other guy in this town?"

"You know the mayor. This place needed him gone." said Red. "What were you expecting me to do? Give him a plane ticket to Belize, first class?"

"You disgust me. You really do." said Johnny. "This whole thing, helping me and my friends and... Fuck, it was all just so you could have your petty revenge trip? Nothing more? I mean, you let a innocent guy take the rap by giving him the glass. He didn't deserve this. He wasn't involved. You just made him do it so you wouldn't get caught. Who's saying you're not going to do the same to me?"

"It wasn't like that." said Red. "It isn't like that."

"Oh, well, if he was just an expendable pawn, then what the hell am I? I'm not your friend. Guys like you don't have friends. You talk about the people and justice and how bad the opposite side is, but when the statues start crumbling and you're winning," said Johnny, gripping the phone tightly. "It turns out that all the only difference between you and him was that you were losing."

"I don't bleed the city dry. I don't support gang wars." said Red, an edge on his voice. "I don't do anything he did."

"Yeah, but how long until you do, Red?" asked Johnny. Before Red could feed him another line of bullshit, he cut the call off. He was out of the diner, walking the streets filled with such filth it made the sky turn black. The neon replaced the sun, it's flickering light being the  only thing at the end of a long dark tunnel. He went into an off-license, bought a bottle of vodka. Drank it down. One minute he's in a park, the other he's face down in the gutter with his mouth bleeding, two of his teeth missing. The DTs were back and they weren't forgiving. The air around him started shaking like snakes, and the sky above him became an all-consuming hole which shook like nothing should. He entered it, became a part of the darkness, and felt nothing at all one way or the other...

He walked across abandoned suburbia, a fucked up fever dream version of what the good life should be. He saw what he could have had with his wife, with his job, if it wasn't for his fucking drink. Then he saw the friends he had now, and they were all walking away from him. Old Johnny Carpenter, back on the booze cos the guy he thought was good turned out to be another killer. Old Johnny Carpenter, JC, Johnny boy, he couldn't understand that his entire life was a trainwreck and this was another collision. He tossed the empty bottle into the ground, where it shattered. He cried, stumbling through the darkness to which there seemed to be no end.

He opened a door, and found himself in a shop filled with the most hideous trinkets and oddities you had ever seen. It was ungodly, unreal. He fell to the ground and vomited his guts out, but felt nothing had been cleared or cleaned out. He just felt empty where he felt unpleasantly full. One bad thing for another. He closed his eyes.

It wasn't until morning that Merlin found him. Whatever bit of Duffey remained in the security system, it obviously felt some pity.

Lloyd Absolon
"So," said Vimes, playing darts on a suspect board. "I've been hearing you're a company man now, aren't you, Adam?"

"You could say that, chief." said Adam. "You could say that indeed."

"Clucking bell, haven't you gone up in the world." said Vimes. "Police work's too low-key, too unpaid, so the ace detective goes corporate. Lovely story. What are you doing here?"

"Urban renewal, chief." said Adam. "The Rust Streets have never been cleaner thanks to Absolon and his group. You bring in some cops into the deal, make it official. Then we start the merger. We give you the best tech in the world and we do it for the cheapest you'll ever get it. The mayor's dead, and I know you're happy about it even if you don't want to talk about it. Let's get this city cleaned up before some other asshole comes in and ruins it. What do you say?"

"I say you're a loon. Cleaning up the Rust Streets? And I'm the queen of England." Vimes threw a dart, hitting a picture of Jacqueline Coupe in the eye. "I could supply a few squadcars. Maybe more. But I've seen what you're doing in that factory. I know you don't have planning permission. I know you aren't doing all this out of the goodness of your heart. And I don't have the mayor breathing down my neck so he can get cut in the deal. I like you, Adam. You're a straight up bloke. But Absolon  is not the man I want to be associated with. Every other day he's stirring shit. First the regulators. Next the hitman's on him. What the next big thing, eh?"

"Nothing's next. You can see the difference in the Rust Streets. Fewer dead cops. Less drug dealing. No meth lab explosions. A few more businesses opening up there every day." said Adam. "You know we have it handled. At least consider the merger offer."

"I don't like the idea of using your gadgets. I had to scrap that bloody robot you gave us." said Vimes. "You make good technology but your contract has more fine print then a newspaper for mice."

"There's no drawbacks. It's a straight up, no funny business kind of deal." said Adam.

"Which I'm not getting involved in." said Vimes, who then pressed down on the button of his intercom. "Hello, could you--"

"I really hoped it wouldn't come to this. I have a lot of info on you, boss." said Adam. Vimes let off with the button, then narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, blackmail, give me a break. If you weren't such a stubborn bastard, it wouldn't come to it. I have files on you and Azur that shouldn't exist. Original copies of cases that have been edited with your blessing. Crimes intentionally ignored, criminals repeatedly given unofficial pardons, evidence of truly massive corruption within the police force... Hell, if any of this got released, it wouldn't mean a purge of the police force. It'd be point-black annihilation of it. Everyone from you down would be out of a job. And I think we all know what would happen when any two-bit gangbanger hears his least-favorite cop won't be missed if he gets his brains blown out. Now, question is, are you going to let that happen, or are you going to play ball?"

Vimes stared Adam down, then drank a shot of whiskey. "Alright. I see an accord must be reached or I'm going to be bloody hanged by the press. What exactly are you looking for here?"

Adam thought. He wasn't expecting this to work out so well, so maybe skimming off the top would be good. "You start cleaning up the Rust Streets and don't raise shit about Absolon's bots. Then you start buying our stuff without any haggling. When we ask you to turn a blind eye, you turn a blind eye. If we say a guy needs to go, you make evidence that he's a sexual predator or he's a coke dealer or whatever. And if anyone starts making up plans to sue Absolon for any old shit, you tell them to keep their mouths shut or they'll be sorry they even thought about taking it to court."

"Why don't you make the deal complete and have Lloyd come around to fuck me up the arse? Maybe when I'm wearing a dress too?" said Vimes, pouring another few shots. "Mind telling me why you're making that bloody eyesore on top of the factory apart from Absolon's lovely aesthetic taste?"

"People fear the future." said Adam. "But the future's coming and it won't be stopped. You just need to make sure the people making it are safe, that's all."

Adam stood up and left, leaving Vimes alone. Outside, Ayana watched those come and go into and out of the police station. He approached her, and smiled. She looked at him drily.

"You manage to get Vimes on our side?" said Ayana.

"And then some. Let's go see the bossman, he'll be interested to know what we got." said Adam.

Jacqueline Coupe
Out of all the jobs Jacqueline had assigned John to do, this was probably among the more humiliating of them. Here he was, with a brain full of information (and nothing much else, considering), and he was reduced to being a glorified ansaphone. He could handle it, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurt. He pressed the phone button with his tongue as it rang.

"Jack Coupe Enterprises." said John. "This is Jack's receptionist as nothing is happening since the Russian mafiya has decided to stop fucking with us. Please leave your message at the beep."

"Don't speak so soon." said Anya. "Now, can I speak to Jack Coupe?"

John almost recoiled in panic (An amazing feat, considering he was literally just a head), but managed to balance himself. He rapidly sent messages to Jack Coupe's phone, which was another handy feature of his new state, but she wasn't picking up. Probably asleep or similar. Great, now he had to deal with the negoitation between two criminal organizations who were really, really pissed off at each other. God, he missed being a hitman: the biggest problem you had was seeing if a guy was dead or not.

"Good evening to you, Anya!" said John. "I see the letter wasn't ignored. Have you considered it positively?"

"Skip the chat, I'm interested." said Anya. "I hate the old Mafiya, and I'm a lady, so I think me and Jacqueline Coupe share more similarities then previously thought."

"Good to hear." said John. "So, by old Mafiya, I'm assuming you're not talking in the 'Back in the old days, the mafiya was so much better: sure, we dealt drugs to schoolchildren but at least we did with with panache' way, right?"

"Yes, that would be correct." said Anya. "In the way Americans call it, we're reinvigorating the brand. The mafiya's been a crew of ex-KGB gopniki dealing drugs and killing each other for too long. The Cartel's a syndicate and it's winning because it's got a network. What it doesn't have is one of the types Jack is. If we team up and forget all this bullshit about Duffey, then we'll get on top."

"So, uh... What is the situation with Duffey?" asked John. "You know. Just so we're all clear on that situation."

"You should know. Duffey got killed by Jack, or as good as. The Irish mob didn't connect the dots until some guy named Frank gave them photos. We mainly got involved because our alliance was on shaky ground due to the whole shootout thing, which was also apparently your fault according to some sources." Anya paused. "Thinking about it, I'm giving you one hell of a deal for how much you've put us through."

Fearing retribution, John said "Remember, the Cartel's a bigger problem then some old bullshit in the past. Hell, I'd rather Jack and you running the show then a Cartel run city. Right, right?"

"I suppose." said Anya. "So, I'm going to come out and say it. Jack's asleep or similar, right, and you are trying to neatly sidestep this issue?"

"Yeeaaaaah, sort of." said John. "Still, do you want to arrange a proper meet? I mean, I'm going to tell all this to Jack, so it's all good, right?"

"Sure. That proper meet better be soon." said Anya. "Or you lose your head."

"Believe me, darling, Jack's taken care of that." said John. "Take care, now. I'll pass it on as soon as I can."

"Alright then. And you know, John." He flinched. Did she really recognize his voice? She knew her people. "I expected you to stick around with us for far longer. Looks like you can't trust anyone."

"You're telling me." muttered John, to a dial tone.
Frank turns out to have sold Jack up the river, while John promises a proper meet-up with Anya in future. John is also a bodiless/headless (depending on how you look at it) secretary/ansaphone (also depending on how you look at it).
Adam manages to convince Vimes to agree to the contract with some extras due to copious blackmail. The citadel is attracting attention from those who believe it's not obeying planning laws.
Johnny Carpenter becomes disillusioned with Red due to his dishonorable actions, at least in Johnny's mind. He goes back on the drink, but then stumbles into Merlin and Matthew's shop purely by accident. Just as Red finishes his call with Johnny, a nearby phone begins to ring with Robert on the other end.
Magnus wants 80,000 dollars at least after recovering several broken spy drones, and Joan wants to be put up for the night after a misfortunate incident with her mother. Robert has gotten ahold of Red and is now ringing him.
Hades 13 burns down the orphanage Illumina was at and learns an interesting tidbit about her past. There is a lot of tension against Illumina for an unknown reason (That Ragnarok may supply if he wishes) with Karol siding with Illumina. However, one of the kids in the gang may be supplied a gun by a Hades 13 agent with the purpose of being used to kill Illumina.
Matthew sees something that drains his magical potential, Magnus was only seen by Matthew, and meets his father who is unfortunately Jules. Merlin manages to eliminate at least some of the cult inside the estate. Merlin recognizes the effects of being exposed to... whatever that was to be similar to anti-magic creatures, but on a much larger scale then anything he's ever encountered.

[ragnarok97071]

"We need to leave."

These were the words that had kicked off the current hostilities, the vast majority of her comrades either too attached to what they've seen as their new home, or simply untrusting of the girl, though so far Karol had seemed to decide that this girl really did have their best interests in mind, though her methods weren't what she'd prefer... But, dark methods or not, the girl cleaned up her messes, and her little... pets had kept them well-informed of the area, made sure that they weren't watched... though Illumina seems to think something different, now.

They argue, the children, most against Illumina, wanting to remain in their 'home', with Illumina and Karol attempting to convince them that there weren't many choices here.

"There are cameras... all sorts of cameras around the buildings near here... When I found them, I destroyed them, but they are replaced faster than I can do so. The best option would be to disappear before whoever plants them comes..."

And so the argument continues, Illumina and Karol hoping to convince the others that this really was the best plan of action...

Whether they would succeed or not is yet to be seen.

[Digital Hellhound]

'I don't want excuses, John,' Jack said, sighing. 'Find me Frank Dillard. If he's not a threat to me, I don't know who is.'

She put up a hand to forestall his objections. The disembodied head bobbed up and down in the car seat, looking forlorn. Magnus sat at the wheel, tense - they were waiting outside the restaurant she'd set up the meeting in, watching the street. Magnus would cover them inside, and she expected Anya to bring her own goons - nothing for her to worry about, or John would have warned her, she imagined - but there was no harm in seeing if the ground was clear. She had told the Mafiya woman Jack would ensure her safety. She might have enemies of her own, enemies who'd love to use this opportunity to strike and put it on Jack.

'Alright,' she said. 'Let's go. Fashionably late only goes so far. Put something on him.'

Magnus nodded, sending amusement through the bond, and unceremoniously dropped his coat on top of John. His muffled objections continued until they got out and shut the doors, heading inside.

---

It was a high-end restaurant, and Jack had bought the owner's discretion. She'd also bought all tables on one side of the restaurant so they would not be overheard. The table for two - Magnus and whoever Anya might bring with her would need to stand and glare at eachother - sat against the wall, under a mural of Mediterranean scenes. The wine she'd hand-picked for them was waiting. She'd dressed to impress, her best little black dress and a designer coat.

'Hello, Anya,' she said, fixing her eyes across the table. 'I've heard so much about you. I'm glad to meet you at last.'

---

Jack begins the meeting between her and Anya.

Null Act: Jack has John try to pinpoint Frank Dillard's location using his magical skull powers.

[Fniff]

Anya went through a checklist of what back-up she had. Of course, there was no obvious bodyguards in the area. That would give a bad impression. However, the waiters were packing uzis, the band playing in the corner (Brought in by Anya since the old band had a sudden case of the bribe-induced flu) had AKs in their guitar cases along with two combat shotguns in the piano, and there was four snipers on all the buildings surrounding the restaurant with VSS Vintorezes. Anyone tried to make trouble, they'd be more lead then flesh. Before replying to the fashionably late Jack, she did a quick glance around at the restaurant. Usual grouping of guests, no real threat... though on their side, annoyingly close, was a couple. Odd looking pair, fellow with white hair in a white trenchcoat with the greenest eyes, and someone in black jeans, a black hoodie, and wearing a... She returned her gaze of Jack.

"I am similarly glad to meet you." said Anya, flicking her cigarette into the ashtray. "Not a lot of women in this business. But let's not pretend we're the types to small-talk. My first question... Are you planning to fuck me? Cos when I get fucked I want to be assured I'm going to get a lot of money for it and the confirmation that I can fuck you if need be."