NationStates Jolt Archive

Mathias tried to process what Charmaine was asking.....was she talking of dying? He could not bare the thought of losing her; he was mortal, a man older then he appeared to be. He was dying from the inside out. She could not die for him, it would be right, it would not make sense.

Genocide had requested certain information from him, yet he could only hear blurs and a giggle that he had recognized as being Genocide. It was all too much for him to process. Those children's lives at stake over the information he possessed, Charmaine's life, his region's safety, European Free States safety, and his own life.....all at stake because a young child needed information.

Unable to fully understand what was happening, his mind worked hard to process the information. "Charmaine......" was all his mind could muster in response.

Does that mean I have to decide for you? she asks softly, not knowing which to do, but her expression unchanging. She couldn’t let genocide see any slip ups. All right, so this was going to go a certain way. “I’ll give you the information you seek if you let Mathias go, alive and unharmed, back to his nation in proper care. I’ll answer every question to the fullest, so long as you let him live. The answers are just seconds away, if you just grant me this.”

Genocide contemplated for a moment, weighing her options, "If I receive satisfactory results and have no further need for him, then I'll let him go," she finished with a grin.

She finished her glass of milk, placing it back on the table before standing up and pacing past Charmaine and Mathias. "Let's start then!" she giggled, tossing a piece of paper and a pen onto the floor.


Mathias opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light of the room. He felt weak and tired, cold beyond belief as if he were laying bare naked in the Artic, which was not far from his actual predictament.

"What's going on.....what happened?" he managed to formulate in his head, clutching on tightly to Charmaine seemed to spin around him.

Perry pulled away from Aiden's hand, sending him a sharp glance backward quickly, "It won't be until almost tomorrow. So just chill. Did you give him his medication? He really needs it," Perry sneered, his eyes narrowing angerily at Aiden.

Changing the subject, he directed his thoughts to Dante, "Dante, just relax....we'll be in Mahanoy by the time you wake up. Sleep now....you need it," he finished, treating Dante like a prized puppy, a precious child.

Nos stood up abruptly, rushing to a closet, where he rooted through some clothes before pulling out a white outfit similiar to the one he already had on. Undressing before Erzsebet, he quickly slid into it, before rushing to grab his shoes and his sword.

"Something tells me we need to get to The Depths of Hell," he murmured quickly, throwing his outfit together rather hastily. He looked to Erzsebet quickly, "Are you coming?"

Damon swung around a corner, racing down a corridor. His time was limited, he knew this the second his struck the Admiral. An alarm sounded though, the lights cutting....Richard had succeeded in getting to The Red Queen; perhaps he had provided a distraction suffucient enough to allow Richard to get that close to The Red Queen. He knew many who died in the attempt to shut down The Red Queen, Richard was indeed lucky to have gotten as far as he did.

Running through the pitch darkness of the base, he stopped down, and with his good arm, he grabbed Richard's arm and pulled him out of the base in a hurry. Once outside, he grabbed Richard's shirt by the back, dragging him up the hard stairs until they were outside. After exitting the base, he lifted Richard, supporting him with one arm, while continuing to drag him out of the city.

Despite his training, weakness set it, perhaps due to the extreme cold he could not feel, and he released Richard, falling down beside him, slipping into unconsciousness. What he did not realize is that the cold combined with the blood loss from the bullet had effected him far more then he could know.

Passed out beside Richard, the two lay exposed to the cold, unable to help the other outside of the capital city. Without help, it was only a matter of time before either one passed the line into fatality.

Richard woke up, his head pounding and his body feeling as if tapdancers had their way with it while he was passed out.

The memory of what had happened washed over him like a flood.. Richard whimpered against the ground, considering crying again for what he had done to the Reich, for what he had done against Hunny*Dew; but thought better of it when he found Damon passed out himself nearby.

The cold seeped its way through his pores and down to his bones; the coat Damon had on looked sure nice at this time of night.. instead of feeling bad for the man, Richard considered kicking his head in.

Richard stood up slowly, his joints scraping as if against ice and took a long look at Damon.. Why had the man made him shut down The Red Queen? It wouldnt stay off forever, the window of opportunity was closing fast.. but Richard didnt care.

He angrily snapped off nearby firewood and considered starting a fire until he realized that a fire would point any search teams directly to them. Richard sat down and put his head into his hands, should he go back into the base? Confess? Lie more?

Nothing would help him now.. he continued to sit with his back against Damon, head in his hands, not a thought going through his mind.

"Yes, I have given him the medicine," Aiden said in a rather melodic tune. All that i need to do is ditch these guys when I get there and find Sarah. He exhaled cooly, and leaned back in the seat. Couldn't hurt to have some fun on the way. He looked at the back of Perry's head and concentrated.

After serveral minutes, he smiled to himself. "Are you two...involved?" He asked, drawing concern on why Perry had cared so much for Dante.

Anna didn't know what the hell was going on, she was being strong armed back to the barracks when the lights cut out, but not before she had turned around and saw the bleeding man running in another direction behind her, carrying what looked like Richard. They looked to be trying to gain access to the outside.
Blinking, she couldn't see anything in the darkness, she clutched Fox's arm and felt for the nearest wall. Once her fingertips reassured her that she was in fact in the familiar corridor that she had entered the base in, she turned to Fox and asked "What in the name of the seven hells is going on here?" Fox turned feeling up her arm to her shoulder in the darkness. Ignoring her question he asked, "Are you well enough to get back to the barracks and lock yourself inside?"
"What? You're not making sense!"
"Are you?" Fox asked more forcefully.
"Yes, yes I am," she said.
"Good. Then go, go as fast as you can, anybody you see either take them with you or tell them what happened," Fox commanded her.
"What did happen?" she implored, pinching his arm so he would answer her truthfully.
"The Red Queen shut down," he said gravely.
"Oh," said Anna, not really understanding but getting the message that this was serious business.
"Go," he said, pushing her down the hallway. Stumbling Anna fell into the wall, firmly planting her hands and soldifying where she was.
"Ok," she replied, starting to feel her way down the hallway.
"Take this," Fox said, pressing a scope with battery powered sight into her hand. "And please be careful." Fox turned and ran in the opposite direction.
Anna exhaled and made her way down the corridor. Ten minutes later, she was still in the dark and acutely aware that she was blind in one eye. She had felt along the walls until the familiar sensations ran out. Now she didnt know where to go. She had turned the battery powered sight on, and registered that it didnt have much battery left. So she used it to find her way again and shut it off when she was comfortable in where she was going.
She had just turned a corner when she tripped over something large and bulky. She fell to the ground and just saved the sight from rolling away. Turning over and sitting up she shone the sight onto what she tripped over.
Gasping in shock, she saw that it was Admiral Hunny*Dew, she was ghostly pale her head in a pool of her own blood. Panic set into to Anna, fearing that the AI from her country had ordered this, or that man she saw leaving had something to do with this, she grabbed Hunny*Dews torso and drug her along the ground, using the sight to guide her way back to the barracks. She stumbled and tripped and the few hundred feet seemed like miles.
Once she was inside the barracks the sealed the door, and wedged a peice of furniture under the handles.
The emergency generators had turned on by them and even in the dim light, she new that Hunny*Dew didnt look good. Anna grabbed a bottle of water and carefully rinsed the wound and then found a linen closet and tore the sheets into strips. She washed them with ethanol that she had found under the sink in the kitchen and proceeded to wind the strips around Hunny*Dews head to staunch the bleeding and promote sanitation and antisepsis in the wound until she could find liquid stitches to fix the gash.
Unsure of what else to do, she began to check the vital signs. Taking heart rate and checking for pupil dilation. All seemed normal, so hopefully this was just a superficial wound. Anna didn't know, she wasn't a doctor.
Dammit she hoped Fox got back here quickly.

Der Fuhrer awoke again in the coldness of a dark room, the screams of a woman close to her. She tried to move, but found she was incapable of moving at all….in fact, she did not have any feeling in her limbs. Looking around, her eye sight unable to see in the pitch darkness of the room, she just closed her eyes, listening closely to any sound of movement at all.

Much to her surprise, she did not hear a sound, the screams of the woman nearby having faded. She recognized the screams almost instantly when she awoke. Despite their past, her heart went out to C9 in that moment. They have been employing rather vicious means of torture, means which even she was finding unbearable at times. Will power only took you so far with these men….strength meant nothing….and hope was an illusion behind their dark figures.

She wondered how long they would keep her there to torture her. Would she spend years in that dark room being brutally tortured everyday? Would they kill her before they broke her? Would she try to kill herself….somehow? Her mind wondered from one question to another, faint murmurs in her head. She did not know how long this means of life was going to last….nor did she know how long she had spent there already. Time lost all sense of meaning….all sense of existence. Was it night or day? She did not know. Was it summer or winter? No way to tell. Was it a week, month, or year? No way to tell and she could not see her own body to recognize any signs of aging. If this was not hell, then she did not know what would be…..the complete utter lack of any knowledge in a dark unknown place with no sense at all of time. Hot flames, murderous pitch forks, and the screaming souls of the damned seemed like paradise to this unknown silence and darkness.

As the frozen hands of time continued, Der Fuhrer found herself being hoisted up in the darkness, strong arms wrapping around her waste and lifting her onto its shoulder. She assumed it was a man….by her knowledge this group of people were only ever men. She remembered her last encounter with them, in Dante's complex within Mahanoy. They all had been lucky at that moment, if it was not for that fact that they had outnumbered these men, they would have been dead or at least, locked within a similar room a much longer time ago. If there had been one less person or a slight decrease in the skill level of all those in that complex, it was certain they would be dead.

Her mind ran back to that moment, Mathias providing cover fire as Atticus sniped from the distance and while Damon was working alongside Mathias. She remembered Dante, the masked face, the wound still fresh on his head….her rifle having given it to him. He was the only one to ever survive being shot with her rifle. And then there was Surukai, viciously fighting with Clara. It was ironic how the tables had turned….how one moment they had come to arrest Dante and were fighting furiously to protect him from a group of men so legendary that they were thought to have been made-up, created, inexistent.

Her mind was rudely shot back to reality, or what was seemingly reality in this cold place, when her breath stopped for a moment, the sound of her body hitting a table. She could not feel the table beneath her….and began to wonder if this change would be permanent….knowing if it was that there was no way she would ever again be able to rule The Reich or even The Dictatorship.

In a room also pitch black, a cold voice aside of her spoke, "Tell me….how did you escape? It was a quite amazing escape and to take another hostage with you is rather impressive. But we must know, how did you escape….those rooms are inescapable from the inside. So who did you give a blowjob to in order to get out?"

Der Fuhrer did not speak, her eyes set on the ceiling, or what should have been the ceiling, which she could not see. Closing her eyes, listening again, she heard the steady rhythm of his breathing, slow and deep. This was an actual person, no recording and definitely not someone speaking from another room. If only she could move, she could attack him, break his neck, break his knee, kick him in the shin…..anything. But she knew she could not and knew she would never escape alive if she had.

What would she tell this man though? That the face of a man she could clearly recall but could not place a name to had freed her out of the blue? That he had carried C9 with him? That she had sewn his arm back on for him after they arrived at that old lady's house? They would want more information obviously….information she could not provide him….information not even she had, and she was not prepared to go through the brutal torture they would put her through to get more information out of her.

She remained silent, her eyes closed, unmoving on that table. There was nothing she had to say to these men…..nothing she would want to reveal. But then she felt his kiss, warm and sweet, quickly pulling away. "Mathias…." she whispered breathlessly. And that was all she thought of when her world went dark.

Perry sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating Aiden's question, wondering why Aiden was interested in this matter. "No," he simply stated, rather angry at that. "Dante is just really important," he added, lowering his head slightly as he felt his cheeks beginning to burn bright red. Dante's name lingered in his head for a moment, hearing the way so many people had chanted it welcoming him to the stage before his soldiers, whispered it with the hint of terror coming from their voices, cursed it as he killed a fellow loved one, begged with it as he grinned about ready to pull the trigger, even screamed it as they watched him fall in the comfort of his own base, one of his most prestigious bases.

"Why do you want to know?" Perry asked, calming down for the first time since Dante bailed. "I mean….what matter is it to you who I'm involved with? We don't even know each other….why would you care if I'm involved with anyone? But since you brought up the topic, are you involved with anyone? I mean, there has to be someone you're involved with….you don't strike me as the single kind of guy."

Dante groaned, shifting his position slightly despite the restraints keeping him in place. Knocking into a drug induced sleep, his mind was empty, but his body responded to the strong medication, trying to purge it, but finding it could not.

"Dante," Perry called out, partially alarmed and concerned until he remembered what Aiden had asked. "Can you just make sure he is alright please? I forgot that shit makes him nauseous."

OOC:
Posting for Foch


IC:
Not knowing what to do Anna stood up. She hated being useless and since Admiral Hunny*Dew was not going into obvious shock, she decided to cover her with a blanket and place her in the bed designated by Fox earlier this evening. Still not knowing what to do, or where to go, Anna decided to look for the last people she had seen: the mysterious deaf man and Richard. Going to the cabinet Anna grabbed a gun, two extra magazines and an extra lithium battery for the scope since she couldn’t find a flashlight. Running back to Fox’s locker, she grabbed his heavy thermal powered life-support suit, and jumped into the boots he gave her. As an afterthought she grabbed a life support/ homoestatic stabilizing kit before she moved the metal locker that was blocking the door, and rushed out into the hallway. She headed towards the open gate leading out of the base and burst through into a frigid inhospitable environment. The subzero temperatures bit at her face through the mask and her nose started to bleed a little bit. She started to run through the eerily destroyed city down, a main thoroughfare until she reached the city edge and burst into suburban ruin. Looking around she saw faint footprints and followed them until she saw the two figures.

Rushing over to them she dropped to her knees, and immediately began to staunch the bleeding from the deaf mans shoulder wound.

“Whats his name?” she demanded of Richard. He stared at her not comprehending for a moment. “Whats his goddamn name!”

He looked to Erzsebet quickly, "Are you coming?"

Not really placing any significance on the fact that Nos was changing right in front of her, as most Callisdrunians really didn't care about that sort of thing, Erzsebet watched the man get ready.

"I thought you said that it was a dangerous place that I shouldn't go to?" she mused. "I'll come, though. Do you want me to bring some Berserkers? Or just you, me and Knut?" She through the strap of her AK-103 over her shoulder as she finished her sentence.

Richard didnt comprehend what was going on.. he vaguely recognized the woman standing over them, yelling something emphatically that he couldnt understand.. was she speaking a different language?

"Are you a vampire? Get away from me.. you blood sucking bastards.. I saw what you did to Dante," He said weakly in a garbled voice.. she appeared to shake her head in disappointment and get something out of a bag.

Richard contemplated passing out, but didnt have the will for such an effort.. he just wanted to sleep.. to sleep.

"No.. no.. I cant sleep.. sleep is death," he mumbled to no one in particular, memories from his youth in the forests of Adyndril?

Her expression turned from anger to worry and she began doing something Richard couldnt quite see until he remembered that his eyes had to be open.

"Im here to help," she said.

A beautiful woman.. C9, Hunny*Dew.. both were likely dead.. Richard continued to mumble incoherent words as Anna helped them survive the cold Reich night.

Anna looked down, the blood from the wound had stopped. Richard was too far gone to be of any use, he was screaming about vampires and sleep and if he went into shock she'd be up shit creek. She opened the life support kit and tossed a thermal blanket over Richard. It wasn't much but she didn't have anything else of use for him.

The deaf man didn't even move as she pushed into the wound, searching for the bullet. In the kit there was a bottle of ethanol, similar to what she had soaked the strips for Hunny*Dews head in. Saying a silent prayer that this would make him pass out so she could pull the bullet out, she emptied half the bottle onto his wound. Normally this would have made a normal person scream in agony as it seared the wound and cleaned all of the bacteria. 'Who is this man, and why isn't he responding?' she wondered. 'Is he dead?' She checked the wound again, a little bit seeped out in time with what she hoped was a hearbeat. 'Oh, guess not...' she thought.

She had another dilemma, she couldn't pull the bullet out without causing more bleeding, so she left it in and began to stitch the wound. After pouring more ethanol onto it she wrapped the wound with gauze and medical tape. Then she shoved the pack under his arm so it would be higher than his heart. Looking to Richard, she felt helpless. She had Epsom's salts to revive him if he passed out, and the carbon heat packet generators to keep them warm but nothing to keep him from going insane. So she ripped into them, placing heat packs in his boots and gloves and zipping them into pockets, luckily he didn't fight her. She did the same for the deaf man as well. Hopefully this would keep them from succumbing to hypothermia.

She removed blankets from the pack, and tucked them all around their bodies. Sitting back on her heels, she decided that they could help each other and pulled Richard, who had become dead weight over to the deaf man and wrapped them both in another blanket, and began to rub their limbs trying to get warmth and blood flow back into their limbs.

Sitting back she sighed exhaustedly, what the fuck was she gonna do now?

"I thought you said that it was a dangerous place that I shouldn't go to? I'll come, though. Do you want me to bring some Berserkers? Or just you, me and Knut?"

Nos looked up to Erzsebet sharply, a sardonic grin spreading across his face slowly. "I meant without me Erzsebet," he whispered, his voice seductive, snakelike, slithering from his lips.

Opening the door, his eyes shot back to Erzsebet quickly, "You really plan on bringing Knut, don't you? I hope your little lover boy can hold his own. Where we are going, we are probably going to face evils that make what I do and my skills look like children's play....the work of a child.....highly unprofessional and unskilled. If I were you, I would leave all unneccessary baggage behind," he finished, curling his lips back into that sardonic grin before walking out of the door into the cold air that was slowly filling the mansion.

Some time passed.....how much, no one could tell. Damon awoke, his breath accumulating above him in the frigid intense cold. It must have been early morning hours, but it was not possible to tell in this foresaken outskirts of the city.

He took notice to the blanket around him.....he had passed out. Sitting up abruptly, he took notice to Anna, a woman he had not met before. She was new to him, her profile not in his memory, not as a voice inside his head. He lifted his good arm to his face, his shades still in place.

Standing up, his joints cracked, the coldness, the stiffness sounding almost as if he bones were snapping from the sheer coldness alone. He felt nothing....nothing not even the bitter cold biting at his very bones. He looked to his arm, the limp limb hanging.....it looked beyond repair. Perhaps it could have been salvaged when Der Fuhrer had tried to repair it, but now, it had been with decreased blood flow for too long for a completely severed limb to reheal. It had been out far too long in the frigid cold to help either......or would that end up having worked to his advantage. Could the cold have prevented his limb from dying? Or had it just frozen his limb to beyond use?

He stared at Anna coldy behind his glasses, the reflective shades only showing Anna her distorted reflection in the darkness of this night. Richard was aside of him, either staring off into the darkness, a state of delirium....or he had managed to fall asleep with his eyes frozen open. He no longer needed to feel to know the repurcussions of spending a single night without preparations within the hellish confines of The Dictatorship. Twice experience had taught him, beyond feeling, the problems that the night wrought.

"Who the hell are you?" Damon asked coldly, the evident lack of emotion showing in his voice.

Nos had no warning as Erzsebet's palm slammed into his cheek. She certainly hadn't hit him as hard as she could, but surely hard enough for it to hurt a bit, and give him some pause. It had knocked him back a few steps as well.

Erzsebet stared into Nos' eyes, her own blazing with fury. "That's a sore spot with me, Nos." And now, it was one for him as well. "You will not call the man who saved my life 'baggage.' Besides, why would I insist on him coming just because he loves me? If I didn't think he would be valuable to have along, don't you think I'd prefer for him to stay somewhere more safe?" She raised one eyebrow. "He's as good a shot as I am, and physically stronger as well, despite being human. And he doesn't get jealous, if that's what you're worried about."

Once outside, the inaccuracy of calling Erzsebet's lover "little" was obvious, as Knut was a very tall man, and broad shouldered as well. Ten years ago, Erzsebet had often been kidded about being a "tree-climber," due to the vast difference in size between the two of them.

"Captain Tveitan," she said. "We are going with Nos."

"Yes Ma'am," Knut answered, in Callisdrunian. Nos would not understand the words, but he would probably guess what it meant from the military style of it.

"So, Nos, shall it be just we three? Or should I take a squad or two for backup?"

"The name is Noskalenaeuroph to you from now on Miss. I'd appreciate you getting it right. Brawn versus brain is really no good to us Miss. Your macho man might be a good shot, but what good is shooting a target you don't know is attacking us? You're not fighting what we've seen in the mansion so far.....oh no......there are far worse things out there targetting us," Nos grinned again, rubbing his cheek.

"Now, if you you and your pretty boy are ready, we'll begin our journey. But if you choose to turn your back on me, you are going to need more then love and bullets to save your ass out in this playing field," he finished, heading toward the right wing once down the main staircase.

This was new, he was functional, in fact, he even stood up. "Who are you?" he asked coldly. Anna balked.

"I think the same thing could be asked of you, but since you took a bullet to the shoulder I can excuse you being a douchebag," she replied.

He looked a little non-plussed, probably because he couldn't hear her, and Anna felt even colder inside of her suit.

"You need to sit down before you fall down. How the hell you got this far out here by yourself, I'll never know. However, when Richard wakes up we are going back to the base," she told the wind, cupping her hands to her face and blowing on them through her mask, for all the good that did. She turned her back on him, but then one thing struck her. Deaf people had different, cruder speech patterns based on the fact they could not hear, so normally their speech was rougher and less lyrical, and more slurred and gutteral. This mans speech was crisp and clear, not deficient at all.

Turning back to him and standing up she narrowed her eyes and said, "You're not freaking deaf either."

"I see you are very observant. Let's cut to business though. You don't know who I am and I don't know who you are. I'll be forced to kill you if you find out who I am and I'm prepared to kill you right now if you don't tell me who you are. So let's compromise and you tell me who you are before I need to start finding out the hard way," Damon simply stated, his apathetic voice no warmer in then the temperature they waited in.

He slowly paced, periodically looking down to his severed arm. It would only be a matter of time before someone reached here. He needed a plan; needed a way to get to Stadt within the night before they froze to death.

Annas mind raced at a thousand thoughts a second. Her first instinct was to lie. Her second instinct was to tell her first instinct to dont be stupid, because he'd know.

Instead she cleared her throat and stated, "I am Anna Castell, from the country Ferdinand Foch. I am a scientist brought to the Depths of Hell by Admiral Hunny*Dew because of my profession as a scientist, and my specialty in biological and chemical systems. I do not know my birth age, nor my birthdate. I am of sound mind and health and if you quit being pigheaded someone might be able to save your arm."

And with that she turned and started to clean off Richard and repack the life support kit.

"Quite fiesty as well," he concluded, looking from Anna to Richard. "My arm is beyond repair. I'll learn to work without it. Are you fit enough to travel great distances in this weather?" he asked Anna, reaching down to pull Richard onto his feet.

"We need to get out of here now. Get your things together Anna and when you're done, come help me with Richard. One last thing, what is the temperature?"

The thought entered Damon's head briefly and it came out before he could think to ask. Silently cursing his lack of control, he continued to hoist Richard up with his one arm, finding it rather difficult to move, his joints being rather stiff and cracking loudly as he moved.

His only conclusion came down to the frigid cold. His lack of feeling having come to his advantage again, for he did not feel the searing pain that accompanied the creaking and cracking of his joints.

Anna continued packing, because doing so was the only thing keeping her sane. That and she had a gun with two full magazines. Taking a deep breath she said, "I'm fit to travel, I came all the way out here of my own accord, and I can go all the way back as well. I don't have a thermometer, but it would adventure to say that its probably approaching 200 degrees Kelvin, which means its pretty damn cold."

She turned to help Damon by taking Richards otherside and balanced herself out with the life support pack. She grabbed the scope and turned the light on, and they started walking back through the bombed out shell of a ghost city.

Richard snapped out of his frozen trance with a yell, "Hunny*Dew!!!"

He knew he was quite delirious, for a moment he thought he had seen Anna standing nearby tending his wounds; and Damon nearby.. but that was crazy.. he had gone back to Adyndril with Hunny*Dew years ago, a broken man, but a loved one.

He surreptitiously eyed his two companions, had they come back to kidnap him and take him to the terror that was The Red Queen? He didnt know, but he was prepared to fight for his life.

Finally he realized.. it was damned cold outside; it never got this cold in Adyndril, so he could rule out being there.. that left only one thing. Dimly, he remembered nights like this in The Reich.. that couldnt be..

"Where am I?" he weakly asked the person he vaguely remembered as Anna as she flashed lights in his eyes.

Shifting her weight a little, Anna continued helping Damon support Richard.

"We're in the city that lays outside of the depths of hell. This man brought you out here when the Red Queen was shut down. You've been out of it for quite some time, you've just come too and have been raving about all sorts of things. Right now we just want to get back to the base before we freeze to death," she said, as the trio marched onward.

Damon merely assisted Anna in carrying back Richard to the base. He did not have enough time to explain what was going on to Anna, nor did he feel the need to reveal her into that life either.

He would think of something once they got Richard back to the base.....it would beat freezing to death outside for the moment.

"Anna Castell, you will not divuldge anyone in the information you learned out here. I am not deaf, as you guessed, but you happen to inform anyone within affiliations towards The Dictatorship, I'll be forced to kill you. It is my job to ensure that ifnormation does not leak past the confidants we employ. Therefore, all that you learned here is not to be mentioned or alluded at to anyone.

"Richard is the enemy. He shut down The Red Queen. We were bringing him back. You know sign language, hence, you were able to talk to a rather confused me who fled the base because I'm afraid of the dark. Got all that?" he finished coldly, a skill he's mastered years ago.

Anna really didn't have to say anything. She was entering a familiar pattern, a pattern that she had forged years ago when her family was killed by fochs AI. Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil, she thought.

"Got it," she replied to him. If he killed her it wouldn't matter anyway. In fact he would probably be more merciful than that twisted peice of coding that lorded over her country. The cold was getting to her, her shoulders and face were numb and her toes were most likely frost bitten. Still despite all of this she kept trudging on, refusing to acknowledge the man who threatened her anymore than she acknowledged the fact that she should be afraid because he threatened her.

"One does not advance to the rank of Captain in the navy without having a brain." Erzsebet said, matter of factly. "The stupid ones stay enlisted sailors their whole career."

Knut looked at Nos, his face expressionless. He was not a particularly handsome man, nor did he look the least bit full of himself. "You know, Mr. Noskalenaeuroph," he said in perfectly articulated English. "I am a patient person, much more so than Admiral Sorvik, but I'd appreciate it if you talked to me rather than about me when I'm standing right here. Sir." He assumed that Nos was of a higher rank than himself, since he seemed to address Admiral Sorvik as an equal.

Erzsebet silently followed Nos, looking around constantly. Knut stayed in back, his eyes also scanning around. If Nos looked back, he would probably be surprised that the few times the two Callisdrunians exchanged glances, their looks were not affectionate, but those of soldiers doing their job.

Reaching the old tavern, fallen in, and destroyed, Damon fell to his knees. "Take him Anna, I cannot support his weight if I want make it alive to that base. Plus, only you two can manage to get down those stairs together. I'll be right behind though....and don't try anything silly. I'm really not in the mood for any games tonight."

Pushing them forward into the tavern, over the dead bodies of the guards he killed much earlier, Damon followed in close persuit.

"Hurry, I don't want to stay here longer then needed," Damon ordered, his vision beginning to blur, his step becoming uneasy. Before even reaching the stairs, he felt like he was already falling down them.......he had taken his body too far, a disadvantage to his lack of feeling.....he never knew when to stop until the signs of a seemingly imminent death overtook him.

Nodding silently, not sure how she was going to accomplish gaining the dark stairway, she turned and shouldered Richard to begin the descent. The first two stairs were fine, but the darker it was the more afraid Anna was of falling and hurting herself and Richard. Using one hand to brace herself she turned and whispered up the stair case, "Turn the damned scope on, I can't see!" Exhaling and willing her good eye to take in more light, she proceeded down one more stair waiting for him to follow behind her and provide some light, otherwise it would be one hard fall down the stairs.

Richard continued to waft in and out of consciousness, not really understanding what was going on, or what was happening in general. His mind was a wasteland, and he didnt care enough to hold on anymore. Sometimes, he knew what was real.. that Damon had again entwined him in his grip.. but he had a hard time holding onto the truth, and stayed in a delirious state of mind for the vast majority of time.

Had he the strength, he would have killed himself.. what was he doing in The Reich? These people were all completely insane! He could have helped Adyndril better by blowing his head off... a .45 hollowpoint would do the job... the work he was doing in The Reich would most likely bring more destruction to a comparative utopia that was Adyndril.. but deactivating The Red Queen? Helping an assassin who didnt even know what side he himself was working on?? What, oh what could he do to save his nation the fate of continuous war that these people waged? Richard wanted peace and love, not famine, destruction, and death.

And so they continued.. apparently into some sort of building.

His mother called out in the distance.. he was a little boy again, it was wintertime, and he was going home to a warm apple pie.

"Erzsebet, your navy is not our standards. I don't know how you govern your people. For all I know you aution off ranks. Your nation seems to have been giving The Reich compliance problems. We are left to assume with those who refuse to follow the basic outline of our governing body," Nos snarled back at Erzsebet. He had once liked the woman, now he could no longer tolerate her presence, but oh how he capitivated her at moments.

"Knut, if I were you, I wouldn't mouth off to people who can take your head cleanly off your neck before you could blink. I'm not a patient person with insubordination. And no point watching your backs in this mansion. The threat isn't here."

Walking into a large room at the far end of the mansion, he began pulling out select items, from a large insulated white coats to gloves. "Take these," he said, shoving them into their hands. "Let's go," he flatly stated, working his way around to the main enterence.

Damon followed a bit behind Anna, who yelled for light while traveling down the stairs. By that time, he had gone close to deaf, hearing nothing but a constant state of ringing within his ears as his knees threatened to give with each stair he took.

"Anna," he called out, a whisper he couldn't hear. Miraculously they were more then half way down when he lost his stability and fell forward down the flight of stairs, unable to stop himself.....Anna and Richard just right below him.

Anna knew before it happened that Damon had fallen and before he collided into them she turned her body so that Richard would be protected from the stairs as they fell. Twenty steps later, she reached the bottom first and pushed Richard away from her as Damon finished his tumble landing directly on top of her. The breath was knocked out of her and she saw stars breifly before passing out on the concrete. There was just so much a body could take.

Damon felt his head strike hard off the last stair before landing on top of Anna at the base of the stairs. Having been able to feign unconsciousness, he quickly rolled off of her, allowing her the ability to breathe. Breathing heavily himself, swallowed hard, blood having filled his mouth from a cut he received on the process downward.

"Anna," he murmured, his body straining to even breathe. "Are you alright?" he asked, unsure if she was conscious, unconscious, or dead. He had only cared at that moment if she could hear him.....they would need her once inside the base.

Richard hopped back into consciousness after being dropped.. the warmth of the room he found himself in already making half-frozen parts of his body tingle in pain.

Damon was on top of Anna, at first glance, it looked like something he shouldnt be watching; but then he realized that they werent there on purpose.

He stood up raggedly before sitting back down, the room spinning in his vision.

Richard mumbled to Damon, "is she alright?" and recieved a brief nod in return.

Groaning Anna rolled into a fetal position, unable to form the words, she simply nodded her yes and sat up. Breathing deeply she managed a "Are y'all ok?" before standing and steadying herself against the wall. God today sucked ass.

"I don't govern my people, Noskalenaeuroph," Erzsebet said very quietly. "Parliament does that, and the King signs their laws. Most of the time. I just serve my country, by doing my job, which is using ships to destroy things and people." A hint of sadness entered her voice, at the last bit, as if to say she wished she was good at something other than destruction.

Knut remained silent. Evidently, he was not a talkative person. Like Erzsebet, he took the gloves without comment, glancing only briefly at them. No one said anything more until they reached the main entrance.

"Let's go," Damon managed, as he struggled to stand, finding his body unable. This would seal his fate. He was rendered useless by his inability to move.....not only that, but the would enter the base without him and put an end to his plan. He would be discovered.....it would be his end.

"Go on without me," he struggled, his cracked ribs straining his breathing, despite his inability to feel pain. He felt the ground around him, finding the shades that he been knocked off and sliding them back onto his face. It was dark to him, the emergency lights within The Depths of Hell having been dimmed.

The gates would be sealing shortly, he knew this. He also knew that he was a dead man if he was left outside, and a potentially dead man if they brought him inside and turned against him.

"Erzsebet, if you aren't the government, you should stop speaking for it. For someone who claims to not have ties with the government, you have a damned way of speaking for them all the time. And since you're not in the position to hand out ranks being as you take them, I doubt it's your opinion to suggest who those in your navy advance rank."

Nos continued forth, securing his coat and making sure his hands were gloved as well. "I know your nation is a rather cold nation, but don't be stupid and pretend that because your nation is cold you can withstand the night in The Dictatorship. I've seen many drop dead to the cold, even when bundled up here. It's not a matter of toleration but of what a body can actually withstand before you body starts shutting down. It's sheer ass luck anyoen made it to The Depths of Hell, even with Hunny*Dew leading them," he seemed to growl back at them, stepping into the frigid air of the night.

"I only speak for the government when negotiating with other governments. Also, I am entirely qualified to promote junior officers if need be. And ranks are not 'handed out,' like some kind of cookie." Her voice was very cold. "Even if I was not qualified to promote officers, everyone knows that incompetant people cannot be promoted to any position of command. They get desk jobs."

As Nos announced how cold the Dictatorship was at night, he might feel stupid if he looked back at the two Callisdrunians, who were expressionless, and already had their gloves on, tucked thorougly into the sleeves of their overcoats. Hypothermia was no laughing matter. Both were also removing warm hats from said coats, which were on their heads before Nos was even halfway finished with his speech. One could lose a lot of body heat through one's head. They both doubted that night in the Dictatorship was quite as frigid as the winter solstice in Callisdrun, but they both knew that saying so would not do anyone any good whatsoever. Besides, cold was cold, it didn't matter that much what was colder than what, it was stupid not to take measures to protect oneself from the elements.

Nos continued forth into the night for well over an hour, his breath collecting in the frigid air. He stopped walking for a moment, listening, before turning around and seizing Erzsebet by her jaw, his blade stopping at her cheek.

"You'll learn to hold your tongue around Reich officials or I'll cut it off next time. Being a smartass won't help you here.....not when you're dealing with people who had to deal with prime smartass numero uno. I don't think anyone here can beat Dante's style. If they could.....they'd be famous and not him."

Sliding his sword back into its sheath, he stepped away. "Without any further interruptions, let's get a move on it."

Only as the assassin's hand reached her face did Erzsebet manage to get her hand to her axe. Even if one was going to die, it was imperative to do as much damage as possible. However, before she had more than taken it from her belt, the threat was gone. Luckily, Nos had not intended to kill her. Erzsebet had no doubt in her mind that he was extremely good at his craft. She got some satisfaction out of the fact that he probably would not have the slightest clue how to command a squadron of warships in battle, but even thinking of this did not take away from the anger and humiliation she felt. She cursed under her breath at him. In her own language of course. Why didn't I just through this bastard in the drink? she thought. She followed him without protest though.

Knut had his axe raised, but lowered it without a word when Nos sheathed his sword. He had observed the foreigner's speed, and knew that if Nos had wanted to kill Erzsebet, he would not have been fast enough to save her life. He kept this thought in the back of his head. Knut put his axe back on his belt as if nothing had happened and followed the other two, not uttering a single word. The air seemed to be getting colder. Or are my senses fooling me? he thought. He was suddenly quite thankful for his coat, and for the fact that they were moving fast.

(sorry real life intervened. And short post because I have to get back into the swing of things.)

Aiden looked at him with a flawless countenance. “I had someone, but they disappeared.” He raised his eyebrow. He could play of Perry’s orientation. “You’d be surprised that I can be very versatile.”

Richard stood up and spared a long glance at Damon, considering killing him in his weakened condition. He felt little fear, long since having lost his connection to the feeling.. a suicidal man fears little.. but there were still mysteries he wanted to solve, still things he needed to know before he could end his life. Many of these mysteries would be solved near and around Damon, and it was obvious to him that Damon wanted to use him more.. so why not allow it? He would be able to stay close and find out what he wanted to know.

He turned to Anna, "Anna dear, may I speak with you for a moment?"

She got up from tending Damon with an irritated look on her face and walked over to him, Richard spoke in tones loud enough for Damon to hear, "Im going to go inside the base and gather up Hunny*Dew and a guard to accompany us away from this place."

"Fox," Anna said quickly.

"What?"

"Get Fox, I havent been in the Reich for long, and have made so few friends.. please get Fox."

"Alright.. ill be out with the Admiral, your Fox, and an idea of where to find transportation out of this place.. do you mind staying here and helping Damon while I go do this?"

She shook her head no and went over to kneel by Damon's side, Richard turned away and began to walk back into the base.. back into hell once again.

Richard went to the place he had last seen Hunny*Dew in search of her and eventually found her lying down with a closed head injury and a somewhat sloppy patch job done to fix it up.

She spoke to him weakly, "Richard.. what happened here?"

Richard looked at her with kind eyes and said, "Im not entirely certain Admiral.. but we're going to get you out of here and head to Stadt to find someone who can work on you properly," and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"There's one problem, I have no idea where Stadt is, or how to acquire transportation there.. we'll also be taking a couple other passengers with us. Anna, who you've met.. and that old friend of mine, who was injured recently. We'll also need a guard, and Anna suggested someone named Fox.. who we can pick up on our way out."

Anna watched Richard depart, hoping that Fox wouldn't be that hard to find. She looked at Damon, the poor pathetic wreck of a man he was, lying on the floor. There was blood oozing out of his arm and he still had those ridiculous sunglasses on. Like looking cool would help him now. She dragged the life support kit next to him and sat down near his shoulder. Sighing she touched his face, wich was quite pale from blood loss. She felt him twitch, and quickly withdrew her hand.

Leaning close to his ear she whispered, "It's just me Anna, all I want to do is tend your wounds give you something to relax you and ease your pain. Since we fell down the stairs I'm going to have to check your ribs and cauterize your arm becuase it ripped open during the fall. I'm going to have to open your life suit and place hot metal against your flesh, please don't freak out. I just want to help."

He didn't say anything, so Anna go to work. She efficiently disrobed his torso, and saw the bruises and striations indicative of broken ribs. She pulled gauze and a flexible bandage from her kit and bound his ribs. Closing his suit back up she prepared for the arduous task of cauterizing the wound. Looking around she found a large peice of metal, which she sterilized with alcohol and flamed to red hot with a small acetyline torch that was in the life support kit.

Anna stradled his hips and locked them in place with her knees, then she applied the hot metal. Tears began to trickle down her face as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. That bastard AI, it burned her families bodies after it murdered them. After a minute and a half she removed the hot metal from the smoking stump, which she sterilized with more alcohol and bound with cloth.

She moved off of him and began to check for a pulse it was there but it was thready at best. She needed to check his vital signs, grabbing the scope she leaned up and removed his glasses, only to find his deep impenetrable gaze staring back at her. His face twisted into an ugly mess, and he lunged forward and grabbed Anna by the throat, forcing her back into a wall trying to cut off her air. She tried to break his grip and began seeing spots as she slowly lost more air. She blinked her yellow-brown witches eyes, and raising her arm came around and cuffed him with the scope. He staggered a little bit and she kicked him in the chest, hearing the satisfying crunch of his chest bones. He tried to push her to the ground but she kicked him in the balls, gaining enough space the scrabbled for the life support kit and grabbed for a syringe full of an acetylcholine blocker that would freeze his muscles. He stood up and dove at her again, smashing her to the ground. He was trying to grab for the syringe, and trying to smother her with his body weight at the same time. She bucked again trying to throw him off, but he kept on pressing her down trying to reach the syringe, she felt her spine crack in response to the force he was exerting on her spine. Eventually she went limp, and he hoped for her sake that she was dead. He sat up slightly to reach for her neck to snap it, when she swung around and stabbed him in the neck with the syringe and depressed it. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the will to survive in her eyes.

Anna flung him off of her and onto the ground, pulling the syringe out and wiping it down with more alcohol before flinging it as far as it could go. She then began cutting the blanket into strips to hog tie him so he couldnt move. The last thing she did was pick up the sunglasses, she looked from his immobile face to the sunglasses and back, gently she placed them back on his face.

Then she found the corner farthest away from him and sat down. Only then did she put her head in her hands and cry.

Hunny*Dew felt slighly uneasy as she sat up, her head throbbing and patched up roughly. It was dark within the entire base....indicative that something horribly wrong had occurred in her conscious absence. The last moments she could remember was Richard's friend being shot, faint and vague to her even now.

"Richard....." she spoke slowly, after listening thoroughly to the booming noise coming to her consciousness that she recognized as his voice. "Speak quietly please, my head aches terribly."

Standing up, she steadied herself by grabbing onto his arm. Softly speaking, she turned to Richard, "Guide me out of the barracks. The Red Queen is down.....how did that happen? Is Der Fuhrer back?"

When Richard's failure to respond immediately fazed Hunny*Dew, she stopped and looked him in the eyes despite the dim emergency lights within the base. "Der Fuhrer's not back then......so someone infiltrated our defenses. Richard, you mustn't worry about telling me these things. As acting dictator, I am quite capable of handling bad news. I know you were just worried for me, but please be frank with me in our times of desperation. It's an easy task actually. I will just have to reactivate The Red Queen and have her process the moments before her shut off to find our vindictive friend," she said with a wink, confidant in the security system designed by Der Fuhrer. "I suspect that Genocide may have leeched into our chain of command.....that or perhaps we have a friend trying gain their own leverage over the situation. Come along now Richard, we must be quick," she finished, gaining back her usual animation and light-heartedness.

Stepping swiftly and gracefully, she glided along the corridors, looking from left to right to keep an eye for any suspicious activity. "There is a "fall in" airzone to your extreme right down this corridor Richard. There you will find a number of aircraft carriers that will transport us back to Stadt. Have everyone collect there and in twenty five minutes, we will depart," she motioned, smiling at Richard kindly in the semi-darkness of the base.

Richard smiled back, a sickly thing that must've barely reached his eyes; he would have trouble hiding anything from this woman.

"Hunny*Dew, dear.. before I go, there's something I must tell you. My friend, the one I introduced you to before all of this shit happened, he's not right in the head. I guess another reason I want you to come to Stadt is because im afraid.. afraid of what he might become when no one is looking. I cant explain myself now, its a gut intuition, but there's definately something wrong; I should have never invited him here, but its been so long.. Dont trust him Admiral, I dont think that I do any longer. Fare thee well Hunny*Dew, ill see you in half an hour," Richard spoke quickly.

With that, he was off, loping around the corner out of sight and taking a brief pause to rest himself and his thoughts. It had felt like he ran a marathon, instead of a couple hundred feet.. lying wasnt something he was any good at, and it took every bit of his concentration to pull off even that sort of effort.

He found a group of soldiers rounding a corner and assumed an old military mein before barking loudly, "ATTENTION! The Admiral and I are going to depart on official business momentarily, you have 10 minutes to find a soldier Fox and tell him to report to the fall-in airzone. If he is not there when we're ready to depart, ill have your descriptions and ranks and it'll be on your hides. Now GO!"

With that, the soldiers scrambled off to find this Fox fellow and Richard casually walked to the entrance of the base to gather Damon and Anna for the coming trip.

A bit less than 10 minutes later, he arrived at the entrance to the base and readied himself.. he knew it now, he hated Damon. How convenient that Damon could be used as easily as Richard himself could, you dont kill people you can still use. He gritted his teeth and walked out of the main gates.

Richard began to speak even before he saw the situation ahead, "I got your Fox and Hunny*Dew, we're to report to the..." he stopped with a gasp.

"You killed him! Why did you do that? Shit.. HOW did.."

Anna said weakly, "I havent killed him, I was attacked."

Richard saw what she was talking about, the sunglasses he was wearing were slightly askew and he wasnt in the same position as he was when Richard left; she had a small bruise on her neck from the struggle. He then took notice to tears in her eyes, and the pieces of a puzzle fell into place. He felt immediate remorse for the way he had spoken to Anna earlier.

"Im sorry Anna, are you OK?" With a brief nod of her head, he continued, "good.. good then; we're to report to the fall-in airzone, ive secured us transportation and supplies for the trip to Stadt. Our ride leaves in 15 minutes, so we should hurry."

He shot a disparaging glance at Damon and muttered under his breath, "however the hell we're going to get this hulk out of here," then louder, "any ideas?

We'll take a look at you when we board, just to be sure nothing else is amiss."

"Well," Anna said, looking from Richard to Damon's useless bulk. "I think that you and Fox could carry him up the stairwell and I could help you navigate the steps and carry the extra gear. However, we need to do it before the blocker wears off or he will be incredibly pissed off. I would like to reccomend that he be kept sedated with a continuous IV of the blocker as soon as we get on the transport to Stadt."

She moved back into the shadows, and allowed Richard to mull over this information. She pulled up her collar, trying to hide the thick circle of bruises around her neck.

"Ok," said Richard. "That sounds alright to me. Just one question though, why did he attack you?"

Anna sighed. "I took off his sunglasses after I bound his ribs and cauterized his wounds. As soon as I removed them he freaked out and attacked me."

Richard registered this information rather passively and muttered something that sounded like: "Stupid son of a bitch."

At that moment a group of soldiers came to the entrance with Fox among their ranks. Fox turned and saluted the soldiers, who saluted him back. Then he crisply turned and surveyed the scene.

Hunny*Dew mused the corridors before heading to The Red Queen's chamber. Everyone seemed to be in a slight panic, but reacting quite well despite the desperation looming in the air. "They are ready for war," her mind echoed, a slightly uncomfortable feeling rising from her stomach.

Unsure of where she began to head, she found herself far from The Red Queen Chambers and in a room of permeating darkness, a dark aura looming from within. There were no emergency lights in this room.....what was worse is she not have the slightest recollection of being within this part of the base before. She felt the thick air, feeling no walls nearby, the stench of death hanging heavily like a rain cloud on a miserable day.

No sooner then the shivers ran up her spine, she tripped over an awkward object seemingly misplaced on the floor. Coming to a stop on top of a not so soft figure, she hoisted herself up in the darkness. Staring blankly through the darkness, expecting the lights to turn on and the face of the figure to be instantly revealed, she slowly opened her mouth to scream, but the words caught in her mouth. She knew that unmistakable malodorous scent, that cracking sound as she fell on the body's frail figure, the giving on the skin as she hoisted herself up, the wet sticky 'goo' of decay she now knelt in......but who?....who was the question.

Scrambling backward out of the mess of liquidation, her wet hands stuck to a dry substance that peeled off in bits as she moved. Blood, she knew this, and lots of it. Someone had bled here, was killed here, was maimed and left to rot in a base of such prestigious and renowned strength. But why? Who? And why hasn't The Red Queen disposed of the mess?

So many questions now formulated themselves inside her mind. "Get back to the air zone," she told herself, steading her mind slowly with the words. Standing up slowly, she walked the opposite direction she came, working her way through the intense heavy darkness into the slowly dimming light from the emergency lights. Finding the closest person, she spoke slowly, as if trying to calm herself, "You there, please follow me," was all she said, the smell of death infused within her nostrils as she continued to find her way toward the collapse in port.

At the mention of Fox, Richard mentally winced.. he had told the soldier to report to the fall-in airzone. This could be a problem...

He was lucky, and also somewhat perturbed when Fox showed up at their location.

"I thought I told you men to tell Fox to report to the FALL-IN AIRZONE, how the hell did you know I was here? No matter.. at least you found him. You four," he said gesturing to the closest four soldiers, "hoist that injured man and follow us to the FALL-IN AIRZONE, not the infirmary, or the bathroom, or the.. the janitor's closet for christssake."

He turned around, ignoring Fox for the time being, "Anna, are you sure that there's nothing more I can do for you? No? Alright, we're ready to go then. Im sure we can arrange for you a meal once we board... maybe even a bath, if its one of those airships ive heard of, at least a hot towel to freshen up with. Goodness, that sounds fantastic.. lets hurry everybody!"

Looking down at his watch to catch his breath, Richard sighed in exasperation, and left with an eye to Fox telling him to accompany them. Putting his arm around Anna, the three departed, leaving the four other soldiers and a grizzly sergeant behind in a scramble to catch up.

Richard, Anna and Fox arrived at the fall-in airzone that Hunny*Dew had pointed out to him with little time to spare, the sergeant leading the 4 soldiers' bellowing voice echoing down the halls behind them.

He saw the Admiral already there, waiting outside the large airplane, and he smiled a brief smile before tempering it for the small crowd waiting for them.

Richard released Anna's arm when he saw the disturbed expression on Hunny*Dew's face and the mess on her well-made uniform, he rushed over to her; wondering what was wrong. Holding her head to his chest and taking note of the smell of decay on her body, he whispered, "you tell me all about it when we're underway, my Admiral," then louder, "lets board, my friend is being carried here and will arrive shortly. Is everything ready?"

So they all boarded the plane, Richard catching the soldiers arriving with Damon out of the corner of his eye before he boarded the plane himself.. idly curious as to what the hell had happened to Hunny*Dew while he was away with Anna and Damon and why she smelled of dead bodies.

Ascending from the darkness of the basement fallout shelter, six men of similiar black suits and dark shades, with the same positioned Eagle tattoo lateral to their right eyes. Pulling out their sidearms, they advanced in the darkness to the massive looming gothic structured building set against the outskirts of the city.

Reaching the opened main gates, one of the guarding gryphon statues still standing, the other have destroyed. It's wings streching forebodingly out, guardian of it's master within the strong walls. Despite the destruction of the city, the mansion stood still, having withstood the aerial assualt entirely.

"Move in. He may be here," a cold voice ordered as the group moved forward, quickly entering the mansion and fanning out before being noticed.

Anna looked at the four men, who had appeared with Fox, hoist Damon into the cargo hold from her leather seat inside the transport. Fox sat down next to her and put his hand on her knee, giving a small squeeze of comfort. She couldn't muster the effort to say anything just yet, all she wanted to do was sleep. She could sleep for days, she had slept for three straight when her family was murdered. Tucked into a rock crevice she had fled to, she used pillows for stones and burrowed into the earth for warmth. Her mother had always told her that the earth was healing, and to treat it with respect. When she had awakened from that deep sleep, she knew what she had to do.
So she broke into her lab under the cover of darkness, knowing that the AI's men were looking for her, and stole back her lethal microchip, then torched the lab with the clear burning accelerant methane. She moved her hand down to her hip and felt for the chip, her four thousand kiloton payload secret, planted deep inside of her hip. Her data, its activation code and one nasty bomb.

Fox smiled at Anna and reached down to her hand, removing its glove, he carefully laced his fingers through hers, offering support. 'If he only knew' thought Anna. She sighed, and leaned her head against his shoulder, rubbing her nose in the soft cloth of his jacket.

"I need you to do a favor for me," she whispered. Fox looked down at her, "Sure, what do you need?"

Looking up at him she blinked and said, "I need your men to come get some syringes from me, to be administered to the man in cargo every time he starts to move."

Fox quirked his eyebrow, "Sure, but why?"

"He isn't coherent and will make a lot of trouble if he finds out he was bound in his sleep. This is just to make the transport safer for your men," she lied, for it was also to protect her.

"Ok," said Fox. He promptly radioed one of the men in cargo bay, who came up to receive the syringes from Anna. "And the other thing?" he asked her.

"I need..." she started, but she was so tired she couldn't hold her head up. "I need a computer," she finished before her head dropped to his shoulder and she fell asleep on her feet.

Hunny*Dew stared vacantly at the man, hog-tied, and tossed into cargo. What had changed in those moments she was unconcscious, she would not know, but she trusted Richard and his judgement. What perplexed her was the sudden change he had concerning his friend, a deaf man at that.

She closed her eyes tightly, pushing back the smell lingering still. Knowing she smelled of death, she disregarded anyone's eye contact toward her that questioned the sudden cause of this horrible stench.

"Redolent death," she mused, a smile playing at her lips, "sounds like perfume Dante would create."

Stepping into the aircraft, she took her seat farthest away from everyone. The flight back to Stadt would be long and the stench would soon become overpowering. Inquiring over the group, she stepped out of the aircraft quickly, moving to the cargo. She would stay with the man, not only because he perplexed her, but also because she felt the need to be away from the rest of them at that moment.

Richard looked around for Hunny*Dew and saw her in the cargo hold with Damon, "maybe she needs to be alone.. I dunno though.. maybe she needs me..."

The unasked question in his mind was answered by a soldier coming up to him with a question from the pilot of the aircraft. He soon found himself checking up on soldiers, giving the occasional order, and looking in on a sleeping Anna.. finding it odd that she had a computer in front of her, still on the start screen. In no time he had assumed the a role that wouldnt allow him to check in on Hunny*Dew until probably the end of the flight.

After getting done having a pillow and blanket brought to Anna, he issued one final order before having a seat and a meal for himself, "you.. yea you. Admiral Hunny*Dew is down there looking after my wounded friend," he pointed first to the cargohold and then to each item in turn, "bring her this towel, and this bucket of hot water."

He watched the soldier head to the cargo hold with a worried feeling growing in his gut.. he didnt like Hunny*Dew down there with Damon.. but he had to hope that the syringes being administered to him would be enough to keep him knocked out until they arrived in Stadt.

Hunny*Dew watched the men injected him with something before they prepared to take over. "Excuse me gentlemen," she asked softly, "be kind to the man. He is afterall still a human being, and no one in my eyes deserves to be treated any less," she finished before turning to a man who held a towel and bucket of hot water to her.

Smiling slightly, she took the items and thanked the men, while asking to be left in silence to think. Respecting their new leader's wishes, the men retreated, Hunny*Dew sinking into a small chair not far from the wounded man.

She felt the plane begin to taxi down the port within the base. Not long after, she heard the telltale signs of the collapse in exit. A loud ear shattering beep issued from mounted speakers, the sound of impressively large metal doors sliding open, revealing a deathly cold Dictatorship night above. She held on tightly as the aircraft bucked and took off down the runway.

Once in the air, she stood up and took the towel and bucket over to Damon, the man had smeared blood and dirt all over his body. He too was in a desperate need of a shower while at a higher degree of infection. She took the towel and dipped it in the bucket; looking at his face, she removed the glasses. He was unconscious, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Washing his face, she noticed a remarkably familiar tattoo aside of the man's eye. Turning his head slightly, she made out the eagle and the Molotav cocktail.....she had seen this before somewhere. Where.....she could not remember, but she had definately seen that mark before.

Removing the ripped up blanket strips that formed his restraints, she removed his clothing, taking notice to the wrapped torso and the sadly limp arm. His fingers were discolored.....he would probably lose that arm. Picking up the limp arm, she felt the coldness within her own hands as she enclosed them around his hand. She brought the hand to her lips and kissed the fingers gently, which did not twitch in response to the movement. "I hope you can keep your arm," she spoke to herself as she held his limp arm gently, using her other hand to wash the arm slowly and carefully, as one washes a baby's head. Dipping the towel into the hot water again, she wrapped his entire severed arm in the towel, looking at the man with saddness in her eyes. "Der Fuhrer loves all her people," she spoke softly, before the sound of a loud clank hit the cargo floor. Jumping, she knocked over the bucket, only to find that the cause of the sound was the fall of the man's clothing.

Curious, she lifted the coat, two rifles falling to the ground....the cause of the intitial clank. Even more curious though, she searched the man's pockets, surprised to find a picture of a happy family.....the man's family..... Tears filled her eyes; the man kept this sole picture in his pocket. He was a soldier indeed, the guns, the family picture, a pack of cigarettes, a phone. A phone? Flipping open the phone, he saw the names of countless people she did not know. Perhaps this was a soldier of Dante's army? He bore that symbol....too old to be of Genocide's time. He had to have been of Dante's army. Who else could it have been?

Placing the items back into the man's coat, she laid the coat over the man before sitting back down herself, closing her eyes, drifting into a light sleep on the somewhat becoming shakey flight.

The will to fight burns within us all. The will to survive enhances our abilities to fight. The key to survival is not the ability to fight, but the ability to harness that power and overcome the situation placed before you. You cannot live with hinderences; you cannot live in cages. You are a free being who has the desire to live, to be free, to roam your Earth without inhibitions.

The desire arouse within her. It has been too long, she knew this. Without a sense of time, she has learned to create her own sense of time. She considered it a day when she had slept five times. She was now on day 15.....day 15 that she could remember the count to. It began to become her obsession in this cold dark abyss of her cell. Between the pain that followed here and there, the shattered and badly healed bones, the starvation and thirst that riddled her, this place was becoming somewhat more tolerable and predictable.

She managed to not scream, not break, not give into these people's brutal and cold methods. Nothing in her life and her extensive training prepared her for this moment.....nothing. Nothing in her experience taught her how to fight against this torture and inhumanity. It was only a small shimmer of faint memories that kept her from breaking, that kept her from compliance, memories that may have not even been real at this point.....her mind having searched it's depths for anything to keep alive the will to fight.

Her memory wandered back to a man she knew who was captured and brutally tortured for months on end. She wished and longed that she was capable of providing him some sort of relief, but Dante was relentless......Dante was unyielding. "Damon," she whispered, a rush of images filling her head.

The back of the man who had just freed her. That man with his bleeding severed arm looking coldly at her. The arm in the bag in the freezer. Him breaking her free and saving C9. Helping them to that house. Sewing his arm on and falling to sleep with him. His mysterious disappearence in the morning.

"Damon....." she whispered. "How could I have forgotten? His hair, his face, his demeanor? How could have I forgotten?" her mind raced. "But I killed him? He turned against me?" she murmured, feeling great arms hoist her up and carry her away.

Feeling the coldness of the table against her back, she knew that this was it. Taking a deep breath, she felt herself being bound, the pain beginning, the questions she no longer heard the words to ringing in her ears. The pain overwhelmed her, but she endured it; releasing a deep breath at the end, before leaning her head to the side, falling limp.

The flight was mercifully short, and the plane landed on the runway with no in-flight problems.

Richard issued a handful of short orders to everyone, "I need you to wake up Anna.. be gentle, and you four to accompany me to the cargo hold to retrieve Damon and Hunny*Dew."

The four soldiers followed him into the cargo hold, where Hunny*Dew was seen still looking at Damon's immobile body; Richard sighed and said, "we have arrived Admiral, time to dismount this wild horse and head home," and under his breath, "the home of a madman, at least."

Then louder, "Alright? Lets go."

He took her arm and led her off of the plane, she appeared uncomfortable with him near; he was scared about what she may have seen in the Depths of Hell, but he didnt ask.. she would come to him when she was ready. At least she wasnt pulling away, though her smell was rather pungent.. Richard would need a shower himself after the encounter.

He walked inside with Hunny*Dew next to him and Anna nearby, both of whom looked to need a bit of a cleansing.. but he could say nothing, his stench was likely worse than Anna's, and probably not far off from the Admirals.

She left him with an empty, unreadable glance and a simple, "goodbye for now," before heading off towards an unknown direction. Anna left as well after a word with one of the soldiers, presumably about accomidation. Damon was to be carried to the infirmary and tended with a close eye. Richard himself went to his own guests bedchamber.. wanting dearly to accompany Hunny*Dew, but instead giving her the space it looked like she needed.

Upon arrival, Richard took off his clothes, and enjoyed the first shower he'd had in a long time; and the best in what felt like forever.

Putting a fresh pair of clothing on, Richard strode out of his room.. and was immediately hounded by a small group of soldiers, "Sir!"

"Dont call me sir.. im not your boss, I only speak for the Admiral when she is unavailable. Call me Richard, and spread the fucking word too."

They looked somewhat confused, but continued, the senior of them speaking up, "Hunny*Dew has reqeusted you in her chambers... si... uhh.. Richard sir."

Richard rolled his eyes and smiled at the soldier, "I apologize for snapping, lead me to her chamber please, and introduce me before I go in..." and under his breath, "ill do it right one of these days.. for heavens sake."

Richard arrived, the soldiers announcing his arrival; he could hear one of them speaking, muffled through the door, "Richard has arrived Admiral, if it pleases you, he shall be in at your command."

She said something incomprehensible, but the soldiers came out with an expression on their faces that said he was to enter.

"You may go in, Sir Richard."

He rolled his eyes again.. this'll have to be fixed before it becomes a problem and walked into the room.

Hunny*Dew had barely stepped inside the mansion, the dim lights reminding her of the mansion now ownerless as it's master was in the hands of the enemy far away, with no way to save him. No sooner then they had entered, Richard had departed. The mansion seemed much quieter then normal, desolate as The Dictatorship almost. She closed her eyes, fighting back the wave of emotions taking over, before turning left toward the medicial facility herself.

"Excuse me everyone, I shall take my leave now," she whispered, her normal graceful gliding transformed into a lamentful crawl. Entering the facility, she found Damon laying still unconscious on the table, some men tending to him by removing the remainder of his clothing and beginning to steralize him.

"Take care of him despite anything. He may be a soldier of Dante's army. I do not want that influencing your care toward him at all. He is now a complementary Dictatorship member, you will treat him no less then you would treat myself. And pay extra attention to his right arm, it seems to have been severed completely and crudely sewn back on. You may need to remove the arm again and reattach with deligence. He's lost a lot of block and has a paralyizing agent in his body at the moment. Keep them in mind before you start hacking away at him and injecting him with anything. Thank you men," she finished frankly, turning and leaving the room toward her room.

Opening the massive doors, she slipped into her room, a small house inside of the mansion. Finding the bathroom, she filled the bathtub with hot water and bath salts, adding bubbles for enjoyment. Scrambling out of her clothes, she stepped lightly into the tub and sank into it, feeling the warmth relax her.

She must have fallen asleep, for she was unaware that anyone had entered until she felt the knife pressed to her throat, the cold blade cutting lightly.

"Get up," was all the cold voice said, "and call for Richard."

Hesitant and unable to see the face of her capture, she followed his orders, calling for a guard of her's to bring in Richard. Nervously waiting in anticipation, standing in the cold of the mansion dripping wet, her back to the man with the knife to her throat, she heard Richard enter, suddenly wishing she hadn't called for him and accepted death.

"In here," she called aloud to Richard, after hearing the guard announce his arrival, indicating nothing in her voice to merit concern or a hesitant response.

Richard entered on Hunny*Dew's command, searching for her within the room, "Admiral? Madam Hunny*Dew dear, where are you?"

He heard a voice from the bathroom, "in here," and entered, suddenly became very flush.

She's as naked as the day she was born!

"Uhh.. Madam Hunny*Dew, this is highly improper, shall I leave or.."

In his haste and embarrasment, he hadnt noticed the man standing behind the Admiral with a knife to her throat.

Richard froze, thinking a million things at once, do I alert the soldiers to an intruder? No... stupid stupid. Rush over and attack? Damn.. im not carrying a weapon on me.. what good would it do anyways? Two deaths doesnt sound better than none.

He spoke up, "who are you, and what do you want from Admiral Hunny*Dew? We will not let you escape, or have you forgotten about The Red Queen?"

He let his lips draw into a silent rictus of a snarl, but the man didnt make a movement to escape the terror of TRQ.. maybe he knows its disabled!! The idea hit him like a rock.. how would this man know that TRQ was disabled? Those were the only conditions a man like this would be that bold. Another question entered his mind, Did Hunny*Dew ask for me before she was attacked, or is this happenstance?

The man spoke, "Approach... slowly."

Richard put his hands to his sides, a foot away from his hips, and began to walk slowly towards the naked Hunny*Dew; briefly, memories of the last time they were in this bathroom together entered his mind, the fun, the passion.. and he felt his manhood fill with blood and his face become even more flush than before.

What a time for this... Oh, the curses of being a man.

He said, in that dead voice of his, "Playtime is over, welcome to the party Richard."

The man pushed Hunny*Dew forward, with his knife to her throat, cutting slightly deeper, the blood slowly beginning to trickle down her neck.

"Richard," she whispered hoarsely, unable to finish her sentence. Despite her position within The Reich, she froze up, the scent of death in her nostrils even now, somehow enhanced in intensity and preventing her from thinking with a clear head. She was cold, shaking as the shivers ran up and down her, as she stood there dripping and naked, the cold blade against his throat.

"Don't move," he threatened almost angerily as he pushed Hunny*Dew closer to Richard moving threateningly closer and closer. Sliding the knife across Hunny*Dew's throat quickly, he threw Hunny*Dew to the side, who tripped and fell into the bathtub, holding her throat as her body submerged itself.

Reaching out, he seized Richard and plunged the knife in Richard's shoulder, astride his clavicle. He cleverly placed the knife right next to Richard's artery; had Richard struggled against the man, the knife would sever the artery and bleed out in a rather quick manner.....the method having been taken from a skilled master in the art. Pushing Richard back, he pulled out a handgun, holding it to Richard.

"Where is he?" the man asked angerily, the shades reflecting Richard's image, the man's face cold and angry beneath them.

Richard wasnt scared, his mind was in a million pieces.. it seemed as if everyone he became close to were targets of violence. All he could do is try to pick up the pieces and continue on however possible.

"I assume you mean the one I know as Damon, one of you, by the looks of things. I find it pleasant that so many of you think highly enough of me to contact me so often, and in such.. varying ways."

Richard gave a moments pause to think things out, the knife blade poking ever harder into the hollow of his clavicle with every passing second. He could already feel the blood pooling in that hollow.. the man would need but to push for him to be rendered useless forever more.

"I will lead you to Damon, unless there is another location within this mansion you would prefer to head to? You will have to soften your grip on that blade, sir, if we are to travel with any sort of decorum."

"Walk slowly if you don't want to die," the man said, stepping closer to force Richard from the room.

"Alright, but stand nearby, if we're spotted; you don't want everyone to see that blade," Richard cautioned, staring back at The Reich Freedom Fighter with a look that conveyed he was far past his limits of bullshit.

"As you wish," he said impatiently, moving past Richard out of the room. Grabbing the guard, he pushed the man onto Hunny*Dew's bed and covered his face with a pillow, holding the gun below his hand. The gunshot was silent, blood pouring from the guard's throat.....he struggled to breathe but the pillow prevented him from taking a breath. Within a minute, the man's sickly gasps ended as the Freedom Fighter placed another bullet into the man's heart.

Turning back to Richard, "let's go," he said, walking slowly ahead of Richard, setting the pace at which they could walk at without Richard dying.

Amidst all the pain and torture this knife gave him, Richard tried his best to formulate a plan as they walked slowly down the hallway.. him giving a simple left, right or straight whenever they approached an intersection.

Is it lunchtime? No... almost.. not quite. Fuck this hurts.. I cant move my right arm at all without driving that blade in deeper.. Moving faster than this near crawl is impossible, so escape is out of the question.. I didnt come to Stadt to be executed damn it! His body shook slightly, the blade felt searing hot within his flesh.. the additional movement causing more blood to come forth out of the wound. SHIT!! Stupid.. stupid, dont get angry. Just concentrate on walking, one step, two steps, three, four, five "Left." six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. Wow.. I recognize this hallway. We're headed towards the mess hall.. soldiers will be walking these hallways in just 5 minutes! Why, oh why couldnt it be that time NOW?

In a sudden brainstorm, and being the only hope for Hunny*Dew, Richard reached into his left pocket with his good arm, being careful to walk slowly.. and found a papery substance and his old swiss army knife. Pulling the pen out within his pocket, Richard wrote on the small piece of paper, "From Richard, Help Hunny*Dew!" and held it in his hand. He hoped that they remembered to spread the word that Richard was this new sir they had been occasionally taking orders from.

At the next corner, Richard spoke ahead, "Right." As soon as the man turned the corner, Richard dropped the scrap of paper, directly in the impeccably clean route those few remaining soldiers would soon take to the mess hall.

Hopefully Hunny*Dew will live where I will likely not.. all I want at this point is to see Damon dead before I die myself. Richard sighed in resignation as they continued down the hallway.

"Straight.....Left.........Straight.........Straight"

As they approached the infirmary, Richard did the only thing he could do, and disobeyed unsaid orders from the man, speaking more clearly than he thought possible, with the small, but significant loss of blood he had begun to suffer, its trail beginning to feel its way down his leg, and said in a voice as loud as the one that those soldiers had introduced him with, the one he heard through the door.

"DAMON is right through that door, in there... with the way ive been treated by him, I hope you KILL the bastard too before you finish me off."

He appeared unsure that he had been led to the right location, so he roughly grabbed Richard, opened the door, and shoved him into the room ahead of him.

Damon wasnt on the table he was supposed to be on.. Richard heard the priming of a gun.. he knew his time for dying was here. He turned around to face his executioner, who immediately went wide eyed; from what Richard could see from behind his dark sunglasses.

From one hellhole to another, thought Anna. She had found accomodations, showered, and now stood in her underwear in front of a fog-stained mirror. She placed the computer on the top of the toilet, and turned it on. Then she began to systematically search the bathroom, looking for bugs, cameras or listening devices potentially installed for spying. Finding none, at least to her knowledge, she turn the taps on the tub using the sound of the rushing water to mask any noise that she might make, but she didn't turn them on enough so that she couldnt hear the noise from the hallway. She had found a razorblade in the life support kit that she had stubbornly drug with her, and placed that on the sink. She removed the razorblade from its hermetically sealed autoclave bag and placed it on the countertop, and turned so she could see her right hip framed by the black silk bikini underwear that she wore. Saying a quick prayer, she pulled her families amulet from her black bra and kissed it. Letting it fall she grasped the razorblade, and pressed it to the edge of she scar. Not giving herself time to think about it, she pressed in deeply and brutally slashed upward, and saw spots dancing in front of her vision.

Barely breathing she pressed her bloody skin apart and felt inside of her warm flesh for her microchip. Silently screaming as she pulled it out she dropped it in the sink, and then pressed a handful of gauze into the wound. She turned the sink taps on to wash her blood away, and looked at the rectangular peice of metal, dulled by her body fluids, who knew that it was actually a biological bomb with a four hundred thousand kiloton payload. Admiring her handiwork, she picked it up out of the sink, just as Fox opened the door.

"Anna," he said, obviously startled by her sexy near state of undress and the gauze sticking out of her hip. Turning quickly shehid the microchip in her hand, and turned her hip away from him.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Come quickly! Admiral Hunny*Dew has been wounded and Richard and Damon are missing," he breathlessly told her.

"Oh shit," said Anna reaching for the plack pants and black shirt that she had found in drawer. Pulling them on, she quickly turned around and tucked her microchip into her bra under her left breast. As quick as a flash she shut the water off and the computer down.

Exiting the bathroom, Fox grabbed her hand and they ran to Admiral Hunny*Dew's suite. She saw the soldiers pulling her limp form out of water that had stained a dark red, almost indistinguishable from that of her blood.
Anna pushed her wet hair behind her ears, and started issuing orders with her limited medical knowledge.

"Prop her head and upper torso so its a least a foot higher than her heart, and prop her legs up three feet higher than her heart so all of her remaining blood drains to her vital organs. I'm going to need rubber gloves, iodine, betadine, an IV apparatus, 12 liters of type O blood and 6 liters of plasma. I need liquid skin, a needle, some heavy duty surgical thread, clamps, scissors and a medic."

They all stared at her like she was nuts. Hell, she didn't know what she was doing, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

"Dammit GO!" she yelled. As the soldiers ran to do her bidding she saw the body of the guard covered in a white sheet in the corner. She tourniquetted Hunny*Dews neck as best she could, and curiously walked over to look at the deceased soldier. Lifting up the sheet she saw, the shot to the head and chest. This man was killed in cold blood, chills ran up her arms. That meant that the deaf man had escaped, and he might just kill her too.

With shaking hands, the doctor pointed the gun at both of them. "Wh....what are you doing here? He's been granted amnesty! You can't kill him!" he chirped nervously, the group looking murderous before him. "He's in surgery right now. Leave him alone and leave this facility!"

"I was just bringing a patient to you," the man hissed, moving clear of the way to show Richard's exposed knife wound. "He's been stabbed, I took care of the culprit."

Sizing the man and Richard over, he nodded slowly, "Then leave him and get out of this facility."

Turning his back to the doctor, the man placed his hand on the door, opening it slowly before wielding around and placing a single shot through the man's face, angled to pierce the medulla on on the exit.

"Let's go," he ordered to Richard, making Richard take the lead to Damon. Entering the operating room to find Damon and a few other men working having just finished cleaning up the surgery. Firing three shots, he killed the men and walked over to Damon.

"Thank you Richard. You'll get your wish," he said with a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Damon lay motionless on the table besides the steady rise and fall of his chest. "You may leave now," he said, looking to Damon, an oddly lamentful expression filling his face quickly before it vanished as he prepared himself to finish Damon's life.

Rushing in, a doctor had Hunny*Dew moved to the blood soaked bed. Despite the room lacking the aeseptic and sanitary measures such as the facility bore, it would have to suffice; there was no way Hunny*Dew would survive the move down to the facility.

Slapping on protective gloves, he inspected the depth of the cut, fortunately having not severed anything dangerously fatal. She had lost a lot of blood, but would survive if they repaired her with haste.

Over the next half hour, the doctor focused on carefully closing the wound and steralizing it. With a hooked needle, he stitched the wound carefully, weaving in and out of her opened wound, slowly pulling it together. The wound sliced into her trachea, stopping before cutting it completely open, the thick connective tissue preventing the knife from going further without force.

Finishing with Hunny*Dew, he ordered her removal to the medical facility as soon as possible. Leaving the room, he watched his back walking toward the facility. Someone had tried to kill Hunny*Dew....s/he was in the mansion and still probably roaming about. Not taking chances, he ran into the medical facility and closed the door quickly, feeling somehow protected within the confines of the facility....until his dead friend sprawled on the floor with bullet wound through his face struck him.

"No," he murmured, sliding back out of the facility and collapsing in the corridor, unable to fight the weakness that overtook his body.

Richard stood, frozen in place, unable to believe that he was to just be let go.

"Alright.. thank you. I suppose it would be highly unlikely that I could implore your humanity to let this man live? Ok.. ok.. dont answer that, ill go now."

He turned around and walked out the door, walking across the hallway and sitting down on the cold tile; his head drifting backwards against the wall. He felt weak.. very weak, there was simply nothing he could have done.

The gunshot was all he needed to hear, and Richard didnt know whether to laugh or cry.

Popeleoma Del Signe enjoyed it's neutrality established by the Concord-Barne Pact of 1912. The country during the war had sat quietly nestled amongst it's neighbors. Troyes Island, the capital, had the bridges barricaded, streets filled with road blocks and patrols. Life continued as it always had, but with the fear of war looming over them. It was quiet in the mornings and in the afternoon and the evening and it was hauntingly beautiful at times. Air raid drills were conducted regularly for the first three months of the war, but people had grown bored of running for cover every time a plane flew over. Daniel Wilberforce, an ministry offical with family all over the Reich sat in his office staring at the front page of the Popeleoma Del Signe Sun. His eyes kept running over the word Callisdrun. His focus broke. He now stared out the window longing for the government's exeat to the Crendeans. He watched a Motorcade of Cadillac Escalades roll down Mason street towards one of the many embassies on the island. He swiveled about in his chair, picked at his ears and walked to the row of ancient wooden file cabinets against a oak paneled wall. He searched through the country's dossier on Callisdrun and found what he was looking for. He sat back down and placed the photograph of Crown Princess Bente of Callisdrun onto the english leather writing pad. He adjusted the mounted magnifying glass to get a better look. Nothing new since the last time he stared at the picture for hours on end. He swept the photograph of his desk into a pile of papers on the floor. Cleaning serivces had been banned during war time for strange reasons unknown to even the ministry worker himself. He looked at another newspaper. The Sarajano Dejostoc was written in Cryllic, but wasnt foriegn to the him. He came to a passage which stumped him. Something about a Honeydew being eaten by some escaping Der Furry Diode. Joseph's Cryllic skills had been diminished and he still refused to brush up on his Chisinauic. He tossed the paper into the pile on top of the photograph and other papers. Paced about the lush office nervously. He locked the door. His breathing grew heavy and sounded strained. He collapsed onto the floor and began to shake violently. A man of 25 was still having fits? It had been 14 years since his last one. Obviously, the words Honeydew and Der Furry Diode had set him off.

Dr. Sabian checked Daniel's Pulse. Normal. He then checked his breating. Normal. Daniel seated himself up on the leather couch and asked Dr. Sabian.

'Dr. Sabian. Could I ask you a question?'
'Sure, i suppose'
'You're from the coastal regions correct?'
'Why yes. Caaene to be exact'
'And you can still speak fluent Chisinauan?'
'Of course'
'Look at the Sarajano Dejostoc and read the article on the Fuhrer'
'I dont see any Dejostoc anywhere'
'It's in that pile over there'

Dr. Sabian strided across the office and picked the Dejostoc and read it to himself. The doctor looked displeased after folding the paper up again and tossing it into the trash.

'Dr. What did it say?'
'Erm... It's about Hunny*Dew and the capture of Der Fuhrer Dyszel'
'What about them'
'Hunny*Dew's taken command in her absence and she's her way back to Stadt'
'Oh' Came the bleak response 'I suppose the dictatorship will be needing help'
'I suppose, but what do I know? I'm just your Damn doctor' He chuckled at the utterance of doctor. 'Excuse me minister, but I have more people to attend to'
'Go then. Give the bill to my secretary'

Dr. Sabian left the office, closing the padded door leaving Daniel to his thoughts. The Concord-Baine pact would obvioulsy need to be out of the way before any defensive action within the dictatorship would happen.

It had been awhile since Genocide had declared war on the Allied nations of the Dictatorship and the former empire of Dante. Daniel had visited most of the regions, espically the Dictatorship which seemed most like home to him. He even shook hands with Der Fuhrer Dyszel once, but it had been at a drunken party in Stadt. He had crushes on all women leaders who had even dare come near him but had trouble when approaching women. Although handsome and still young, he was somewhat a child at heart. With the 12 chief ministers busy with internal affairs, now was the time to sway King Sven XI now that he had emergency powers. He thought to himself

'If I can get troops mobilized into the Dictatorship and save Der Fuhrer Dyszel, maybe...'

He wandered aimlessly into his thoughts and calculating all the possibilities of Popeleoma Del Signe's Entry into the war.

Anna sat next to Admiral Hunny*Dew, who was recovering from her slit throat. She was holding her hand and speaking in low tones to her. Anna really wasn't saying much to Hunny*Dew, just babbling in her native tounge about the tent peoples who were her descendents. Hunny*Dew was breathing shallowly and was asleep from all of the sedative they gave her.

"You know," Anna said in her native tounge, holding the Admirals relaxed hand. "My parents were slaughtered in front of me. They were tortured, their skin was peeled off of them with blunt knives until the red marble tile wasn't distinguishable from their blood as it seeped from their bodies. My entire family endured the pain silently while slender strips of skin were removed from their flesh until you could see the muscle and sinew that held them together," Anna paused breifly, her eyes slightly unfocusing as she remembered.

"My twin brother took the longest to die, six hours of peeling his skin and he was still alive and they had moved on to pulling out his toenails. The entire time he stared at me, his last words were 'Death doesn't mean anything, Aniata, it only opens the door for greater things. Things that are stronger than pain and betrayal, things that only you can understand inside of you.' He was to be the Chancellor of Ferdinand Foch, a country that my family had ruled since the time of the tent people's where my family united them under one cheiftan. When my family was murdered, there were only six of us left. Only the eldest female in the family is allowed to marry and carry on the lineage. Everyone else is sterilized at birth, and while they can marry, they can never reproduce. Even though I was the youngest of the family, I was the only female, and it was my duty since birth to carry on my families lineage. I would never had made a good ruler, I considered abidication and upsetting a tradition that is older than the reich itself. My parents forsaw my inherent distaste for ruling and installed my brother to control the governing bodies instead. I think that is why he was killed as well, they knew he was to be Chancellor and would have rallied Ferdinand Foch around him and overthrown the AI."

"To this day I don't know why I was spared from death. I think maybe they wanted to clone me so the AI had my likeness and blame it on some rouge terrorist group. So I escaped, I had to avenge their deaths. They were my whole world and then suddenly I had none. I don't even know why I can talk about it, to everyone else I act like nothing happened," she sighed and dropped Hunny*Dews hand. Reaching into her bosom she pulled out her families amulet, a peice of oval amber centuries old, hung from a silver chain, and her microchip bomb. She put them in her lap.

She held the amulet up to the light, admiring the natural beauty of the stone. "I stole this out of my mothers blood when I escaped. She wanted to give it to my brother, to guide him and help him. It is said to have restorative properties, but I only know the beginning of the healing prayer that goes with it." She picked the bomb up from her lap.

"I lied to gain entrance to the reich, while I am a scientist, I make bombs, and this one here has a payload large enough to destroy the entire reich and everyone in it," she said. Then she tucked it back into its resting spot under her left breast. Turning on her knees to face Hunny*Dew, she closed her eyes and picked up the amulet, spinning it in a circle over Hunny*Dews still form she closed her eyes and began to spin the amulet.

"I owe you a lot Hunny*Dew, this isn't medicine, this isn't logic or magic. Its prayer of hope, forgiveness and life. If you are blessed with this prayer, according to my people, you will be touched by something larger than yourself. And even though you don't know this, you will have to pass this on to another person, and it must come full circle back to you eventually," she said.

"I am here to be taken, I come from a circle, born of the earth, with fire in my heart, water in my veins, and wind in my breath. I am a changeling child, and I am in pain. Please take these burdens from my soul and wash me in the blood of ancestors and send me back to that circle. Give me speech, so that I can talk. Give me sight so, I can see. Hands, so I can touch. Peel the clay from my skin, and heal me new. The circle goes on without end, The circles goes on without. The circle goes on. Around and around, full circle until I am covered in clay again."

Anna spun the circle seven times seven, and then stopped the stone over Hunny*Dews heart. "Take care with my secrets, Admiral," she said. "For even though you aren't responsive, I have told you things I will never tell anyone again."

And then she walked out of the room, putting heramulet back on, knowing that no one would understand what she told her, for no one could speak the ancient derivative of Fochinese, and with that she went back to her room.

"Destiny," the fatigued voice of a man whispered, "take me to her. I need to talk to her."

Shaking her head, but standing to his aide, the supportive sister that she was, she reached for his arm to help pull him to his feet. Using his sister for support, Alex stepped one foot at a time slowly out of the room toward Hunny*Dew. His figure seemed diminished since his heart gave out, frail, tired, somehow having seemed to age fourty years.

Holding onto the railing tightly, he slowly descended, his eyes on the stairs he took at a crawl, the pace of a snail. Walking back toward the facility he had spent so much time at during his recovery, he tried to disregard the blood droplets leading a path toward it, finding it impossible to think of anything but this feeling rising in him that the path of blood droplets were leading him directly down the path of his demise, leading him directly to his own death, and he the subordinate follower bowing his head as accepted his dire fate.

Destiny gave his arm a tight squeeze, trying to reassure her brother that it was all well, she would stay by his side come what may. They were Ruhmannahs, a bloodline of close-knit relationships, dedication, and loyality to themselves, their friends, The Reich, The Dictatorship, and Der Fuhrer Dyszel herself.

"Alex......cheer up. Hunny*Dew is going to live, everyone is saying so."

"I'll see for myself," Alex finished coldly, the anger raising within him.

Reaching the medical facility, they came across a doctor sitting on the floor, staring at the doors as if he were seeing a ghost. Cocking his eyebrow, Alex walked back him without the assistance of Destiny and threw open the doors, only to find a dead doctor laying on the floor. Sneering his face into one of distaste, he walked past he doctor, "Is anyone in here?" he called out.

After a moment of no response, where Destiny joined his side, he called out louder this time, more forceful then the weakness that slipped into his voice moments ago, "I asked if anyone was in here! Respond damn it!" the words echoing off the walls.

Using his partially movable free left arm, Damon grasped his assassin's wrist, clutching it tight enough to force the compaction of his wrist bones, forcing The Reich Freedom Fighter to release the gun. Damon's face remained unmovable, the cold apathy of a man who felt nothing.

"Next time you try to kill me, remember to check if I'm conscious before assuming I'm not," Damon's voice ordered. "Now help me get the hell off this table before I'm forced to kill you for failing a mission."

With a faint smile spreading across his face, he slid his arm under Damon, helping him stand onto his feet. "I knew you wouldn't leave us," he said, too pleased at the fact that Damon had not left the organization to realize that he had just tried to kill "the man."

"I was injected with a blocker, I can't move fully yet. You're going to have to help me out of here. Get me in that chair over there," he said, motioning to the wheelchair not far from the operating room's doors. Helping Damon into the chair, they heard the slight echoes of someone within the facility.

"I need my glasses," Damon added, realizing the exposure of his identity. "I'll take my own life when this is all over, so tell the rest to take their hit off my head. I have unfinished business before it's over."

Searching through the remains of Damon's possessions, he found the dark shades, scratched and battle worn....it was obvious Damon had been through a fair amount of action within the past month at the least. "You know you have been exposed and now threaten the exposure to the entire organization?"

"I am aware of that. I'll take care of it all, but we have to secure this mansion......we've run out of a lot of needed time. Get me out of here and give me that gun. And get the rest of them in here."

"Affirmative," he said, wheeling Damon out of the doors that automatically slid open, revealing an exasperated looking Richard sitting on the floor with his head to the wall, looking up at them seemingly looking past them, a mock expression of "you've got to be shitting me" slipping into his eyes.

"Ahh.. shit.. couldnt you two have jumped out of the window or something?"

Richard couldnt believe his eyes, not only were BOTH of them alive, but they seemed to be closer than before.. considering that one wanted to kill the other.

"So, why did Hunny*Dew die? Why did I get this knife stuck in my fucking neck? Speaking of.. little help?"

The other RFF stepped over and yanked the knife out, a practiced hand doing a practiced thing; but that didnt stop it from hurting, "SHIT DAMN FUCK!! What the hell.. You know you could have killed me with that stunt."

He just stood there with his unreadable expression, wheeling around his silent assassin partner, both staring at him.. perhaps choosing his fate.

Daniel Wilbeforce sat in the waiting room to the office of the Fourth Minister, Leonard S. Fitzgerald. He stared out the window and watched people mingle in Troyes Park below. He watched a young boy playing with toy soldiers and with tanks. He still longed for the time when his life was simple and carefree. It was either that, or military action. Both seemed to moderate appeal to him. He browsed the waiting room with intent. He ran his fingers across the cornice work of the wood paneling, shuffled over the bear skin rug with it's fur all matted from years of seeing feet and took notice of the paintings hanging. A picture of the king hung between the windows. A painting of Napoleon Fleeing Popeleoma Del Signe while being attacked by a Gunboat. Another painting showed a majestic cruiser of WWI opening fire on a german battleship defending some Popeleoman town on the coast. His attention turned to the secretary working at a large pine desk. Her curls bounced as she used the typewriter. She glanced up and gave Daniel a mysterious smile and he smiled sheepishly back. The phone rang suprising them both. She answered it and said:

'Mr. Wilberforce?'
'Yes?'
'The minister will see you know'

A red light over the door blacked out and the door opened on it's own. A tall man exited with his briefcase. Stopping in front of the secretary to recieve a few papers and exited. Daniel moved through the door and it closed behind him. The minister's office was something more like a museuem. Paintings of military campaigns during the napoleonic era covered every square inch of wall space. The only picture that stood out was a portrait of the King that was as large as the plasma screen tv he had at home. Leonard S. Fitzgerald was a short stumpy man with a slight paunch. His hair was wispy and greying in places. Brown was still evident in places, but was very thin. He wore a pinstriped three piece suit and a red silk tie and several gold pens in his pockets. He sat at his desk at the far end of the room hunched over several maps and papers. Daniel moved towards the leather chairs before the massive oak desk. The minister made some sort of motion as for him to be seated. He continuted to write, scribbiling almost at some moments. He placed the pen gingerly into the inkwell on his desk and looked up.

'Mr. Wilberforce. What do I have the pleasure to this visit?'
'Your minister, I hope that we may begin mobilization of troops to defend the dictatorship.'
'It's simply out of the question. Moving such a great amout of men and tanks and planes through friendly countries will put Popeleoma into a state of hostility.'
'But sir, these are allied nations. All friendly to the Reich.'
'Hm, you do present a point.'
'and Sir. Considering that if we come to rescue we might gain some benefits from the war'
'Oh, what did you have intended?'
'Skirts'
'Skirts?'
'Skirts'
'What do you mean'
'I refer to the ladies of love.'
'I see the cut of your jib now. Hm... I suppose, but that resolution doesnt seem to be plausable. I suppose if we mobolize to rescue the reich, trade might ease up. Mabye it'll pull us out of this damned neutrality we've been stuck in.'
'Yes sir'
'It's about time we as Popeleomans stuck up for ourselves and lent a helping hand.'

The small golden clock on the minister's desk chimed to announce one o'clock. Daniel watched the small bell being beaten by little hammers. The elks flanking the clock dial seemed to be alive.

'Will you join me for lunch?'
'Of course your honor'
'Good I'll call up the car.'

The two of them walked through the door, Daniel smiling at the secretary again and went into the hallway. The corridor was reminiscent of a 1920's building. Wicker furniture lined the halls. A high-boy filled with ministry china rested against a wall. More gilded statues of horses and soldiers stood on tables silent as stone. The two of them and a pair of guards stood on the sidewalk as a car pulled around. They climbed into the idling SUV and the guards followed. Two more black cars pulled behind it. The motorcade set off, pass the municipal building, the palace hotel, the Politiburo, Troyes Palace, The Mint until it stopped outside the Phariot, a high class resturant. They seated themselves near a fish tank and menus appeared. They ordered their food and set to talking about the war. A newspaper waiter walked around the tables seeing if anyone wanted a paper. The minister purchased several papers and paid the waiter. The Troyes Reporter was the first to recieve a gleaning. It was placed on the side with no new information about the war. The Dejostoc held nothing new as well nor did the Popeleoma Times. The Union Press had nothing, but one article caught his attention. The Caaene Schaller had a picture of Hunny*dew on the front. Her uniform crumpled and throat slitted. The headline read: DEAD Admiral Hunny*Dew. The minister began to dial numbers into his cellular phone. He breathed a sigh of relief that the headline was a mistake. He continued to read the article. Nothing about Der Fuhrer Dyszel was in the paper. The minister dialed nearly seven times about certain passages to verify their truth or not. Most were not. The minister threw down the paper in disgust and yelled at it calling it a "useless, wind bag of liberal lies".

'Daniel, i'm definitly going to motion for a bill to repeal the neutrality act. It's definetly going to put up an excellent fight since nearly everyone supports it'
'As long as it's for the Reich and Der Fuhrer Dyszel'

The two of them returned to the ministry building about two hours later. A sign hung on the steel door saying "Do not Disturb". The two of them were working at a marble table in the center of the room. One kept correcting the other and they took turns writing. The clock announced 8 o'clock.

'I believe we have a good proposition for the Duma to legislate over.'
'Of course we do. Two of the best minds wrote it.'

The next day, the bill passed through the Duma 382 votes to 2 for nil. It would now move on to the Politiburo. It passed as well with full support. Only the sixth minister opposed it. It passed through the Royal Cabinet as well. It eventually reached King Sven's desk. It was thursday night. The King's weekly radio address to the people. He spoke of the war bill being passed and now it was official. Popeleoma Del Signe was at war with Genocide and the 94 year old Concord-Baine Pact lay in the dirt covered in blood. Now would begin the era of war.

Anna had gone back to her chambers, amulet necklace thumping against her chest and the prickly feeling of danger and adrenaline crawling up her arms. She didnt know where Fox was and at this point she didn't care, she needed a diversion. What she needed was a dead body. She turned around and leaned against the wall and began the same touch recognition process she had undergone in the depths of hell to compensate for her eye. Going back to the Admirals chambers, she grabbed the dead doctor against the far wall. Walking over to it, she forced herself to grab the ankles and drag it back to her temporary quarters.

She put the body in the bed and arranged it so that from far away in the dark light of the room it would appear the she was sleeping. Damon was coming for her, and she had attempted to save his life. That pissed her off, and she wanted to rip his nuts out with her bare hands. She needed to find Richard and they needed to get the hell out of here. She threw the computer from the bathroom into her rucksack, as an after thought she pulled the microdisk from her bra and inserted it into the computers drive, and activated the start codes, to make the computer a living breathing weapon. She had a feeling that this had to do with Damon and the fact that she saw him without his sunglasses. As an after thought she took the rifle scope, the acetylene torch, and two guns with extra magazines. Finding a ski mask in the drawer she pulled that over her face, and shoved her hands into dark gloves.

Exiting the hallway she made her way back to Hunny*Dews room and positioned the wheelchair that was left when they attempted to move her to the infirmary by her bed for easy access. She then locked the room down, and set booby traps that she could easily outsmart even with one blind eye to protect her.

Anna walked fast with her head down, and tried to find the clinic. Even as she did so the countdown to detonation had started, and seconds of time they didnt have were slipping away.

"Leave us now. I will take care of Richard," Damon ordered again, not a sign of emotion or plot filling his face nor voice. With a nod, The Reich Freedom Fighter left the room, running into a rather angry looking worn thin man.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked Alex, Destiny moving to Alex's side protectively.

"We can ask the same," her eyes narrowed. With her red orange hair done up still in curls, the green dress fitting her shape well.....she was a seductress who was more then her looks let on.

"You'll tell me who you are, or I'll kill you both."

Alex glared at this man with hostility entering his eyes. "Fuck you."

Connecting his knee into Alex's gut, Alex fell breathless, clutching his abdomen as he struggled for breath.

"You bastard! His heart!" she cried out, rushing to her brother's aide. Seized by the neck though, the man hoisted her up and drug her away from him, out of the facility. "Meet me in the conference room, G6."

Stifling Destiny's screams with a tightening grip, he drug her into the conference room, tossing her onto the floor before shutting the doors and locking them.


In the mean time, Damon stared at the floor without speaking for a moment. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and let out a harsh breath. "Get me out of here Richard. I'll explain later," he ordered in his same cold professional voice, the voice of a skilled assassion, the apathy of a man who appreciated nothing in life.

Anna turned the corner right as she saw a woman being drug by her neck into a room and the door slammed shut. There were more people here? What the fuck is going on, she thought. Continuing down the hallway, she made another turn and entered into the facility, the dim light making her breifly illuminate the corridor with the scope so she could see the terrain. Stopping inside of a hallway, she reached into her backpack, she couldn't leave this armed, it was a stupid move on her part. Accessing the drive, she initiated the shut down codes and removed the disk. She put it back into her bra where it was safe. She didnt know what to do she sat on the floor and waited.

Exhaling Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath and went to sleep in the middle of the hallway

Death everywhere.

How do I stop it?? C9, Hunny*Dew.. Why havent I died yet? Why did I deserve to be spared?

He got up.. feeling cold inside, why couldnt he cry? Why didnt he flinch when Hunny*Dew had her throat cut? He loved her... once. His neck hurt like a bitch, but it was a distant pain, gone as soon as he realized it existed.

It hurts so much.. I cannot feel my neck, but this hurts.. I need to forget them.. I need to forget myself.. PLEASE!!! Why wont the pain go away? ITS TOO MUCH!! Please!! PLEASE!!

After an indeterminate amount of time, Richard looked at Damon coldly, "lets go."

Damon nodded and Richard took his wheelchair in his hands, but just before he started walking down the hallway, he noticed something curious.. a person lying down, writhing in pain in the room Damon had come out of.

Do I recognize this man? He seems oddly familiar..

Suddenly, the man Richard remembered as Alex looked at him.. and Richard felt oddly uncomfortable. He averted his eyes, much to his chagrin, and started walking Damon down the hallway once again.

Richard realized that he hated that feeling.. he wanted it to go away forever.

Daniel's plans began to fall into place. He soon would be the saviour of the Dictatorship, or so he thought. Total war swept over Popeleoma Del Signe with great enthausium. At this time, millions of jobs have been created and the common man, bum, police officer, post man, milk man, butcher and whatnot signed up for two tour of duty services. The new arms factories that had appeared in the recent economic progress began to turn to the mass production of light standard issue weapons. Tank works at Fender began to push through a new quick build, simple and reliable tank. Howitzers and cannons rolled off assembly lines at a ford factory in Royes. The country was ready for war. Food became hard to come by so rationing was put in place. Every citizen was encouraged to do his bit for King and Country. Thousands of pots and pans came in from families to cast aluminium ammunition links. These would be necessary for heavy machine guns and flak guns. Of the original 8 army divisions during neutrality, the number of soldiers jumped to nearly 32 Divisions of 10000 men each. Control of the frontier increased as tanks, trucks, artillery and planes assembled for mobilization into the Dictatorship. Daniel watched intently out of his office window. A column of soldiers marched down the street. People walked about with helmets and gas masks just in case. It was now total war.

Daniel had been promoted to Chief of Military Staff in the war time rush. He began training new secret service operatives and scouting parties. One scout who is skilled as he is insolent sped through the ranks. Isaac Getz was one such. He could climb a 30 ft wall without being spotted, tap phone lines and what not. But he had no respect for authority. He regularly relieved himself in the officer's garden, kitchen, park, parking lot, subway and once at Troyes Palace. He was given the king's pardon for defacing that poor rosebush and promoted to second lieutenent.

'Listen Isaac. We need to reach a level of agreement where you respect us and hopefully our walls'
'Peh, what do I give a damn about you. You're a fucking rubber desk johnny.'
'You're really testing me. Listen. You're the best as of now. We need you to get into the dictatorship and track enemy movements and relay them back to us. I doubt you'll run into too many soldiers but knowing you, you could take them all out in a flash and be over with it.
'True dat'
'Quite... Em... You will will report to Rickets Air Force Base around 7pm today. We're sending you in at night so you'll at least have a chance.'

They shook hands, and glared at one another. Daniel definetly did not like Isaac Getz for one thing. He wouldnt listen and already relieved himself in the waiting room. Twice.

An unmarked car sped down Sea Coast highway1. It rushed past Rickenbacker international Airport. It was certainly in a hurry since it's passengers didnt even look at the breath taking scenery of the coast. It wasnt too flashy of a car, in fact, it wasnt too new of a car. It was an old 1948 Chevrolet Master 6. It entered Rickets Air Force Base. Everywhere were the signs of the country's mobilization. Planes were being assembled of pre-fab parts, jerry cans littered the area and Cigarette boxes sat in giant piles. Obviously for workers on break. The chevrolet sped to the furthest runway where a T-23 Turboelk plane stood. The passengers left the car a safe distance from the plane and began to walk to the plane.

'So that's the plan understand Getz?'
'Yes Colonel'
'Very good. Your field pack is in the plane. Food, water, sleeping bag, flares, radio, maps and a GPS system. I believe that's all you might need. You also get a rifle and a handgun with 500 rounds each. Good Luck'

They saluted and Isaac climbed on board. He scratched his goatee as the door was shut tight. He moved over to his pack hanging on the wall. He examined the maps and document folders carefully. They were going to drop him outside the outskirts of Stadt to do some recon work. The two prop engines began to turn over. They took off with no difficulty. The master Sergent came from the cockpit and began to instruct him on using the parachute.

'Pull the green cord when your altimeter says about 500 meters. Too soon, the parachute might fold. Too late, you might hit the ground.'
'Yeah whatever'

The back door bay opened to let in the cold dictatorship night. He put on his helmet and strapped on his pack. Checking for everything that was necessary. Red soon changed to green and Issac found himself gliding through the cold night. The cold cut his cheek like a knife on butter. 600 meters, 550 meters, 525 meters, 500 meters... PULL! The parachute discharged jerking him as it opened up. He grunted at the whiplash of the jerk and began to manouever himself towards an area with few or no lights. The black parachute navigated it's way through clouds and an occasional plane flew by without notice. He landed in a desolated field. Scrub brush covered the ground. Typical of Dictatorship land. Sinister looking and not nice looking. He bundled up the silk parachute together and tied a grenade to it. Not exactly clandestine, but it will make any hostile forces make it seem like an attack against them. The bundled parachute exploded leaving very little evidence of his land. To Isaac, it was going to be a very, very long night.

The night was quiet and bitter cold. Issac pulled the fur lined parka hood over his head. He stared into the fallow field to see if anyone would come to investigate the grenade. An hour passed until a guard appeared from the farmhouse. The guard, obviously intoxicated wandered aimlessly into the field. He began to sing Crocodile rock and dance about in circles. The corked bottle in his hand fell into a pile of dirt and lay there. He reached the part with the Laaaa's and suddenly fell into the crater the grenade had created. The guard sat up. Realizing what was going on since this was not obviously there 3 hours before when he was rolling around drunk. Isaac screwed the silencer onto his 9mm. He took careful aim. Compensating for distances, angle, drag and wind. The guard fell heavy like a rock without sound. Isaac sat in the bushes. Staring at the papers. He hadnt told anyone but he couldnt read.

'What the fuck am I going to do now?'

He meandered towards the farmhouse taking careful quiet steps. He opened the door, managing only a millimeter per moment. His heart began to pound in his ears. His face went red and hot. The house was cold and empty. The hearth suggested only that one guard was residing here. There was two beds though. One made and one not. Obviously one used by the dead drunken fart of a guard. A sink switched on upstairs. The rushing water running through the drain pipe in the celing above him. He switched to the covert rifle. He attempeted to walk up the staircase without noise, but it soon proved difficult when he reached the middle of the staircase and going up or down was going to make an orchestral piece sound like a lullaby. He continued on walking up. The floors creaked. A voice was heard.

'Georgi?'

Isaac's eyes widened. If he ran off, the other guard would know that Georgi was gone and if he didnt respond, the guard would know it was an intruder. Not knowing what to do, he continued to tread up the stairs.

'Oh, drunk eh? I'll leave you be. I've got a hot date tonight. You know, the one. The commisar's daughter.'

The guard gave a wolf's whistle and continued to freshen himself up.

'It's going to be a while. She's in town tonight, about 3 miles off.'

Isaac made a groaning noise to continue the ruse.

'Ah, you are very pissed tonight my friend. I'll give you all the juicy details about it later.'

The guard stepped out into the landing and saw Isaac. Isaac opened fire on the guard hitting him in the neck, shoulders and right eye. The guard came crashing down the staircase and through the barrister. He moved to the dead guard to check if he really was dead. Seemed like it. He stabbed the body several times to make sure. A sweep of the house provided nothing except matches, tobacco, flares, ammunition and several newspapers. He stared at the front page. A bloodied looking picture of Hunny*Dew stared back at him. There seemed to be some tacky looking scars all over her face he thought. He realized the two guards had been playing with pencils. Isaac pulled the radio out and cranked it up.

'Hello base, Hello base do you hear me?'

Static

'Hello base, hello base. Eagle one calling. I repeat. Eagle one calling.'
'Base here, sorry, but the kettle's just gone off. Eagle one rodger that. What is your status over?'
'Have captured a farm field and house three miles from a town.'
'Have you any idea what the town's name is?'

He panicked. He hadnt a clue. He couldnt read the town names on a map nor read the Name of the newspaper. The guard at the bottom of the staircase groaned. He coughed a little. Isaac turned to him, grabbed him by the collar and asked him.

'What is the name of the town you got that hot date in?'

He coughed blood onto the already bloodied white shirt.

'Answer me you pig.'

Isaac slapped the guard several times.

'Allright. Allright. I talk I talk... Stadt'

Isaac kicked the guard to death and returned to the field phone.

'Hello base. I have the town. Stadt'
'Sambria rodger that. Well done. You've managed to catch a weapons storage. Hold there until forces arrive. Try to keep it mum. Understand?'
'Rodger. Over and out.'

He hung up the phone. The sound of "a weapons storage" intrigued him so. He left the farm house to investigate. Banging the screen door against the peeling clapboard house, he walked confidently towards the barn at the far end of the field.

The roar of planes over Stadt stirred quite the arousal. The desolation and eerie deafening silence of The Dictatorship was rarely disturbed......Genocide must be here, and the silent spectators approaching the confines of Stadt moved with greater haste.

"Who is it?.......What!?......Find out who they are and get us information now. We need to know what the hell we are up against, and don't give me any bullshit........You weren't trained to be the best and be anything less. I want a full report on these sons of a bitches and their motives within a half hour."

Looking to the men aside of him, all with those dark reflective shades and cold hard faces staring back at him. "As you know, we are presented with a problem. They'll find out who the hell is flying those planes over this place. In the mean time, we need to get to that mansion. Let's go." Without another word, the group of men, a dozen at the very least, surged forth through the rough terrain outside of Stadt, the thick overgrowth and massive trees blocked a clear path into the city.

From his drunken stupor, he barely felt the pain of the bullet piercing through his chest. He fell heavy, unmoving on the ground, his breathing becoming increasing difficult. Groaning, he tasted the blood surfacing into his mouth, pouring steadily out. He could not feel any pain, only pressure where the bullet passed through.....fading quickly into the bitter subzero temperatures of the night, the blood that had poured from his body beginning to freeze despite it's incredible warmth in comparsion to the frigid cold of a Dictatorship night.

Prepping for his "date," Antoni walked to Issac, unaware that Georgi was indeed not there, a stupid grin spreading across his face, which fell quickly at the sight of the man before him. Before he could react, the bullets pierced him, sending him down before he knew what was happening. And within a minute, he was dead, unable to breathe or function as the blew through his neck and brain, eradicating any ability to funtion.

Three in the morning came and gone. Standing impatiently, her foot tapping aginst the cold hard ground amid the fallen coffee shop within the little remains of Stadt after the aerial bombing run. He was late, unusually late.......something was wrong.

Feeling a nervous chill run up her spine, she tightened the hood on her heavy coat, and stuffed her hands in her pockets before turning away and leaving quickly, in case Antoni had leaked any information and it became her own life on the line.

"To die once is enough," she murmured into the cold wind, her footsteps over the fallen rubble of the buildings on main street the only sound since the roar of plane engines and turbines not long ago.

The planes had made her nervous. "Why on this night? He can't be a spy, can he? No, he wouldn't? Just leave.....just leave......" she told herself as she rushed away, finding comfort and shelter from the subzero temperatures in the home she resummed as hers and the fire lit within it. Protected from the bombing, she was able to hide away here, but now, she had far more things she needed to worry about.....one way getting out of this place the first thing tomorrow. Perhaps she would go to the mansion, where she knew they had regathered at. It was unusually active of late, something obviously important was taking place there.

"No," she whispered to herself, as if her voice would carry itself all the way to the mansion within this desolate silence. "I need to stay hidden. They simply can't know. But then what? Genocide? No, she is far too childish. But that's it, she's childish.....impressionable. I can influence her moves. I know The Reich and Dictatorship well enough. That's it! I can influence her moves. Now to just get to Mahanoy......." she finished with a slight smile spreading across her lips, curling up into a ball next to the fire.

Isaac walked through the reddish fallow field. The ground crunched as he walked over hundreds of furrows which ran the length of the field. The inky black sky was mostly covered with clouds which had a formiddable look about them. occasionally, the moon appeared through a break in the clouds, but dissapeared again very quickly. He reached the barn about five minuites later. The barn was a sagging building. Every breeze that blew by caused it to creak even more. In front sat a pair of peeling sliding barn doors. Locked. He banged the lock with a sledgehammer he found laying against a cart. The doors slid open with a bit of work but he found himself inside sooner than later. The narrow streak of moonlight occasionally came through the barn doors as it broke through the heavy cloud cover. A davy lamp hung on a nail to the side. Isaac lit it with no trouble and scanned his winnings. There was nothing. The room was empty except for a few rats scurrying among sacks of grain.

'Hello base, Hello base'

no answer

'Do you read me?'
'Hello? Eagle one is that you?'
'Yes this is eagle one.'
'What's the news on that cache?'
'nothing. It's nothing'
'What?'
'There's nothing in here.'
'Good gravy. Royal Intelligence has proved ineffective again.'

the other end hung up. Isaac was alone in the world again. He searched Antoni's body revealing nothing but a racy letter. It said to meet me in Stadt on the 21st of the month. He glanced to the battered calender hanging beside the stove. Today was the twenty first. Nothing to do but to wait for Popeleoman forces. He started a small fire in the pot belly stove in the center of the room, hoping for warmth in the desolate climate.

Not a word was spoken as the three hiked on through the dark. The only sound was that of their feet on the frigid ground. They could have walked for a half hour, or two hours, it was impossible to tell. They could have known in a second, as both Erzsebet and Knut had watches, however, both knew that it hardly mattered. Onward they strode, in silence, their breath freezing as it left their bodies.

The trek proved to be all for nothing, though. Upon their arrival at the Depths of Hell, apparently all events there had taken place without them. Erzsebet swore in her native tongue, Knut said nothing. Whenever the man looked at Nos, his gaze was quite suspicious after the incident earlier. It was clear to all of them, though, that they needed to go back.

Silence was almost as pervasive on the return journey. Knut and Erzsebet whispered occasionally between each other in their language, so quietly that it sounded like part of the wind.

"We should probably try to get there a bit faster," Erzsebet said suddenly. Running would also keep their body heat up in the cold. This was merely implied though. They did indeed reach the mansion in Stadt much faster by running.

Daniel Wilberforce had executed Operation Eagle with precise movement. Everything was falling into place, until Isaac's blunder at the supposed "arms" storage. They would have needed the base to resupply. He read several papers from the dictatorship. Planes have flown overhead, but nothing. He paced his large office, staring out the giant windows and into the park below. Sandboxes were now under the guard of soldiers. Everything became regulated. Milk was harder to get at than Tom Hank's autograph. Sand was almost a precious commodity. Skeers Arms works were producing cheap, light rifles by the ton. Invasion of the Dictatorship would soon take place and yet, the country was still not fully equipped. What could one do at a time like this? Scouting parties were regularly crossing into the Dictatorship and returning with the nuclear material discovered but this would hamper them down.

'Miss. Davenport, get Isaac on the phone some how. We need him to press further.'

The body of Georgi the soldier lay in the crater created by Isaac's grenade. It began to smell strange. Like a decomposing bear filled with vodka. Isaac darent go near it to check out for papers since the smell was unbearable. Within a few days, a small batallion of 30 soldiers started to make camp in the field. Planes were flying in and out to start building a base camp at intervals of two hours per plane. The atmosphere seemed tense. A corporal approached Isaac with a Radio Relay message.

'Sir'
'Thank you corporal'

He read the dispatch. It called for him to move into Stadt to check out the area. Popeleoman Armor would arrive at the field within two weeks. It was signed: Daniel Wilberforce. The man he had met back at the ministry headquarters.

'That pencil pusher's got me working again.'
'Sir?'
'You're coming with me. We're getting away from this'
'But sir. I protest'
'You'll do no protesting if you rather be doing it from the stockades. Now get your gear. We're going home.'
'MAJOR!'

An older looking man walked over. His helmet was slightly too large as it wobbled as he walked.

'What seems to be the problem corporal?'
'Sir, this man is a traitor'
'Is that so? Luckily, we despise traitors and kill them dont we?'
'Now major, i didnt intend to be traitorous to the country...'
'Listen Getz. I'm your superior. You will obey me. You will follow the orders on this dispatch d'ya hear me? And you're going to be responsible for those two soldiers you killed'
'I thought they were the enemy'
'How are our allies our enemy dammit?
'Yes sir!' came a sarcastic retort. 'Might I add sir, I think your shoelace is undone.'

The major looked down. He stared back up again and Isaac clobbered him in the face. The tiny corporal pounced on Isaac but was thrown off like a rag doll. He grabbed several bags including his own and his gun and ran into the forest. No one knew what was going on in all the chaos. Major Fletcher finally managed to get onto his feet and called for the medic and a radio kit. As the seasoned medic carefully wrapped gause around his forehead. He cranked the radio and he began speaking.

'Hello Headquarters? This is pincer one. It's Getz. He's run off.'

A loud yak yak yak was heard from the reciever. Fletcher held the reciever further away to save his hearing.

'Yessir. No sir. I will sir. Thank you sir.'

He threw the phone piece back into the carrier. The medic continued to wrap his head. His left temple was streaked with blood. Isaac's ring had opened his skin and it began to sting. He screamed as the Merthiolate began to do its job.

'I cant believe I fell for that old cheap trick. My shoe lace is undone. You're gettin feeble minded Fletcher.'

Soldiers around him erected tents and stoves rapidly. Crates with parachutes still atached sat fancifully around in the dead field.

'I'll have to call back home and report the two dead allies to the Minstry. Have those two buried.'

He shouted at several idling soldiers leaning against a crate marked Willys combat vehicle.

'Quickly bury the dead with full honors.'

He rubbed his temple. It throbbed slightly under his rough calloused fingers. He turned his attention to the Corporal who had tried to stop Lt. Getz.

'Corporal, what's your name?'
'Escher sir. Corporal David Escher'
'Very good. You're now going to accompany me in tracking Getz down.'
'Thank you sir. Might I say what an honor it is?'
'Very well. Can you run?'
'Yes sir. Hur Championships, 2003. Silver Medalist'
'Excellent. We must hunt down Lieutenent Getz as soon as possible. Dead or Alive'

Meanwhile in the forest, Isaac had been running non stop into the forest. He ducked past trees and in and out of logs over ravines. He occasionally stopped for air, but soon resumed. The two 70 lb kit bags were starting to weigh him down. The dictatorship weather soon proved to be a problem. He needed shelter. Fast. As a scout, he knew exactly what to do, but this was an entirely different situation. Within half an hour, he had a small hut, disguised like a clump of fallen trees on the side that faced a road. A small field kettle was boiling a small canned ham. White smoke curled from the small fire he had built. Fog rolled in soon and smothered the fire. Isaac knew this sort of weather. He had gone hunting in the Dictatorship as a young student in college, but could not ever pull or even see a rabbit or whatnot. Snow would set in sooner or later. He only had grabbed enough supplies to last him for a fortnight if he lived on strict rationing. He had to find a car, otherwise he wouldnt last running through the forests. He settled into his makeshift hut as the snow began to fall.

OOC:
[NS]Popeleoma Del Signe you need to contact me on post modifications before you post again.

There are times in war when good people turn bad, when primitive instincts take control over logic and reasoning, when in order to help a cause you must kill another. War defies all reason and logic.....war seldom makes sense to scholars; yet, so many people support the cause. What is it that attracts honorable people to war? What is it about destruction and retaliation that intrigues good men? Are we really logical people or do our base primitive instincts control us after all?......What is war?

Three of The Reich Freedom Fighters moved into the room with haste; her vitals dropped, her body stopped moving, her breathing diminished, had she just died? Trying to feel for a pulse, they undid the restraints that bound her down....if she had died, they would need to react quickly in order to save her life. They still needed that information and knew very well that no one would be satisfied without it. It was one mission they could not fail.....one person they needed alive.

Tilting her head back, the once lively face now pale and bleached of color, looking sullen and destroyed, they opened her mouth to perform respiratory resuscitation. Breathe in, press hard on the sternum, one….two….three, breathe in again, check for a pulse. Nothing….....but a faked death.

Summoning the last of her energy, she jerked beneath their grasp and pushed herself from the table, landing on her knees and hands. She could hear them scramble to meet her, while she brought her leg around to take out the legs of the first one to reach her. With a well placed swing, she made contact with the second Freedom Fighter’s groin before leaping up over the table and racing for the exit she heard them come through. The room was designed to eliminate all light, and despite her extensive ability to see well in the dark, it was impossible to see when there was no light at all.....however, her ability to hear had well increased tenfold through the duration of time she was captive and now would come in handy in this current situation.

Her legs were still feeble, aching terribly with each pounding step of her foot against the ground; the poorly healed bones crying out beneath her bruised and now colorless flesh. She could hear the sounds of many men coming toward her from her right, the thunderous stampede ravaging across a safari.

"C9," her mind flashed, remembering the faint image of their capture in the old lady's house within Surukai. She could not leave C9 to this fate....even though C9 had opposed her rule and wanted her position, she could not leave a fellow Reich member within the hands of these animals.....these beasts, who thrived off of the pain and suffering of others all for the sake of a supposed knowledge. Whoever these people were, she would do all within her power to see to it that they were stopped in their paths, even if that meant taking half of The Reich into an internal civil war. The Reich Freedom Fighters.......even Dante was no match for their combined power.

Pivoting, she heard the sound of C9 talking to herself in a room aside of her. These halls were dimly lit, which she was thankful for, having grown tired of worked in no light. "C9," she whispered, "It is Der Fuhrer, I am not sure how to get you out, but you better be ready for the moment that I do get to you. We have to leave rather quickly."

Hearing no response, she searched the walls rather frantically. To her disappointment there were no unlocking mechanisms to open the sealed doors. Setting her jaw tightly, her eyes narrowing into a glare, she walked away with a now heavily pronounced limp. She retraced her steps from before, having remembered to path she and that man had taken to get here, where she found the weapon's storage room she removed Damon’s refrigerated arm from. It was unlit this time, but having the will to survive stronger than before, she searched the walls to find her rifle once again.

"Ten shots," she told herself, remembering the specific bullet count that remained in her rifle. "Ten shots…..ten dead. It will not get me far, but perhaps just far enough," she whispered, as if talking to one of men on the battlefield. There was no longer captivity, hostages, or prisoners.....it was war, enemy territory, a battlefield....the blood coursing through her body giving her a renewed strength and will to survive, to fight, to defend her people.

"Ten shots," she firmly stated again, setting her resolve.

Leaving the room, she could tell her progress to escape from this base would be inhibited, hearing the foot steps of men searching for her. Walking quickly, side stepping with her rifle ready, she listened closely to any movement, was alert to smell the slightest scent of a male and to the sight of the slightest subtle movement within her peripheral vision. This was now war, where good people turned bad.

Seeing the quick movement of one of the men move from a stationary position next to C9's room, she fired a sole shot, the sound reverberating through the hallways, a sound wave pulsating with intensity of battle. Walking up to the man, she crouched down to his side, pressing her rifle into his abdomen. "You will die within five minutes if I am merciful. Open that damn door immediately or I will make you suffer for the next ten," her voice sounded unusually cold and ruthless, unlike the authoritative commands she would give in the past.

Hearing another man coming closer to her, she stood up and pressed her foot into his abdomen in place of the rifle, which blasted another reverberating shot. The thud of the man silenced the hallway momentarily before she returned the rifle to in place of her foot and glared into the dark shades of the man. Removing the glasses, she looked into this captor's eyes, light hazel eyes that seemed to look past everything into a distant life in his memories.

"Fuck you," he winced, his pained voice straining beneath the pressure and pain surging through his body from the shot.

"James, do not make this anymore difficult. You have a family in Whitecastle as I understand. You have not let go of your ties to humanity and I will order their deaths by XGN. You will hear their screams from the hell I will send you to if you do not open that damn door right now."

After a momentarily silence, James’ course voice broke, "Down the hall, there is an emergency unlock. You will have less then three minutes after hitting it before you are flooded by the rest of us. Just.....don't tell my wife what I've become. I was killed by a bomb during the initial bombing of Hauptc. Don't let them know," he begged, his words growing weaker and fainter, the pain in his voice becoming groans.

"When I hit that switch, instruct C9 to me. If she does not meet me in a minute, I will tell your family and destroy them after they know how horrible their husband and father really was."

"Yes Mein Fuhrer," he said sadly, feeling the failure of the betrayal of The Reich Freedom Fighters that he had just committed.

Stooping down, she removed his jacket and shirt, sliding them over her own body, while taking his shades and sliding them over her own eyes. After partially clothing herself, she ran as best as she could to the emergency open and slammed her rifle butt into it, filling the room with an intolerably loud emergency beep. Standing poised for a firing spree, she waited twenty seconds, thirty, forty.....C9 was no where in sight. Fifty seconds came and passed as a minute rounded, C9 limping into view as her finger tensed on the trigger. Pulling back her rifle slightly, she looked down to see that C9 was not being followed. "C9, hurry. We need to get out of here now."

Wincing in severe pain, she limped to Der Fuhrer's side. "Thank you," was all she said, as they both traveled as swiftly as they could with their injuries. A third Reich Freedom Fighter stepped out into their path, a bullet sailing past Der Fuhrer's head, missing her just slightly. Her finger tightened, the reverberating shot echoed through the hallway, the man falling before she even realized that she had fired a shot. Killing had just becoming reflexive to her suddenly, requiring no consciousness at all....what had this place made her become?

Finding an exit, she slammed her rifle into the door to force it open. The sun was gone from the sky; it was night time in this place of existence. Darkness all the time. She caught glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye....a helicopter. The Reich Freedoms were moving about by the use of helicopters, or at least, this one. Hearing the door open behind her, her rifle took aim and fired before her consciousness responded again. Releasing her clenched jaw, she turned to C9, "We are going home. Get in now."

Starting the helicopter took time, the gages and controls slightly familiar to her. She heard the door open again and the deep thick voices of one of the men yell for all men to report. The helicopter lifted before they had the chance to recapture them, but not before being hit by a barrage of handgun fire, which conveniently was not enough to stop their exist…..a Hollywood ending, or so they could only hope.

Flying for half a day, both women exhausted and wanting nothing more then to sleep a restful night within the security of their own bed rooms after a long bath and good dinner, the looked to each other, a smile spreading across C9's face, laughter filling the silence they had traveled in....much similar to the way one looks at their best friend in reference to an inside joke that only the two knew. "I lived," her laughter turned quickly to tears and then sobs, "I....lived...."

Remaining in silence the entire way, they landed within Whitecastle, quickly leaving the landing zone that they hand chose, making their way as far as they could go before passing out. They found themselves within a dark forest, lying curled up against trees to sleep for only a moment…..when they awoke, the next trial would begin.

Gasping for a single breath, the air trying to force itself into Alex's struggling lungs, his heart straining against its condition to pump the blood through his body. "Help," the airy escape sounded, caught weakily in the air, and traveling approximately five feet before dying into the silence. No one would have heard his gasp of breath, and he feared moments before passing out that he would die there alone by a potentially fatal knee to his gut.....dying a pathetic wreck of a man within a medical facility with no honor to his death, no proud Reich memories following his name. The Ruhmannah blood line would be destroyed before he had the chance to make a reputation of himself.

"Destiny," his mind cried out, before his mind went black from the decreased oxygen to his brain.

And Destiny heard his cry, her eyes filling with tears. "Please sir, let me go. My brother, he needs help!" she cried, a deep frantic sorrow filling her voice. "Please, just let me save him sir! I'll come right back, I promise. A Ruhmannah never breaks their promise. Please!" she begged, the tears pouring down her face, the piercing emerald eyes pleading for a chance to help the only love in her life.

The man did not even look to her as he took a seat in one of the black ergonomic chairs seated around the black onyx topped table that ran the span of the room. He grinned, giving Mathias credit for his designs and furnishments in this place, continuing to ignore the pleading cries from Destiny until five other men joined the room, all entering at different times and taking seats without a word or glance to each other. All the men wore the same dark reflective shades, the same black suit, the tattoo of that eagle and Molotav cocktail position next to their eye. The only distinguishing factor of these men were hair colors which ranged from black to a dark blonde.

"Please," she begged again, before the door opened to reveal Damon being wheeled into the room by Richard whom he instructed to take him to this room. Ordering Richard to place him at the head of the table, Damon used what he could of his still recovering muscle to hoist himself into one of the chairs and take the seat above the rest.

"Please let me help him!" she cried out, looking from one man to the next, to Richard specifically now. "Please Richard......don't let him die! You may not remember us, but you helped Hunny*Dew save his life. He's my brother Richard, don't let him die!"

Noskalenaeuroph stopped outside of the mansion as they arrived back, tired from the lack of sleep and food for the past few days. He stared at the structure standing strong and ominous through the destruction of the city. Stadt des Meeres once stood strong and glorious, a city of sheer beauty and wonderful sunsets.....it was all gone now, leveled beneath the bombs of Mahanoy in one swift quick strike.

The feeling arouse within his heart again, something felt wrong about this place. Something felt wrong about The Depths of Hell and now something felt inconceivably wrong about this mansion, with one of its powerful guardian gryphon statues still standing even after the assualt.

He wanted to take Erzsebet in his arms suddenly. Embrace her and kiss her, tell her to get as far away from The Dictatorship as humanly possible. Leave the Reich if she must, but just to go somewhere where she would be safe. Instead, he felt his throat being grabbed from behind by a strong hand. Before he could bring his arm around to his sword, his body fell limp in the man's grasp. Erzsebet or Knut barely had time to turn around to see Nos fall before they too were grabbed from behind and simultaneously knocked unconscious as well.

The men surged forward in one massive group, only half of them entering the mansion perimeters. Blindfolding the fallen and securing them tightly, five of the men stayed with them as a large majority worked its way toward the mansion, making a careful note to not yet enter.

Richard wheeled Damon in the room uncomfortably, shielding his eyes from everyone inside. Destiny's cry cut him to his core, he was fighting himself madly.. Why not help? / I CANT! THEY'LL JUST DIE! / Maybe these two wont, maybe they'll be different. / Dumbass! the freedom fighters have them, they're done for! / Not necessarily, just find a way to help Alex before its too late! / NO! I CANT! I wont. / Just this time? Help them.. a beautiful woman needs you and you're just standing there? A friend whose life you saved before, did you do that for naught? did you?? / NO.. no.. it wont help.. it wont help.. / but you have to try.

"Your brother," he looked into her eyes for a long moment, not feeling that strange discomfort, "does not deserve to die, but it is not up to me, m'lady. I do not control our destinies."

Richard gave Damon a deep bow with his hand to his chest and looked to him for instruction.

Destiny's cries filled the room, Richard's gaze faltered and turned to look at her again.. she looked into his eyes, pleading, begging.. it was killing him inside, he felt something unlock within him, perhaps a door to who he was.

Taking a big stride over to Destiny, Richard said, "I will help your brother." He then looked to Damon, whose gaze had a slight quirk to it, as if he was curious, Richard did not know how he picked that up, "a dead man cannot tell tales."

Anna woke up and knew that she was alone. She didn't even know what was going on. She sighed and rubbed the grit from her eyes; she was dressed like a cat burglar and thought it was funny. She wondered if anyone had discovered her makeshift traps around Admiral Hunny*Dew. Where the hell was Richard? Thinking about Richard made her remember Damon. He had to have something to do with this, it just didn’t make sense for it not to. No one protected themselves and their identity that much, plus he just didn't act natural which was a large indicator that there was something wrong with him.

She pulled her computer out of her knapsack and removed the microchip from the disc drive. She must have lost her mind thinking to detonate this, or she must have thought she was going to die anyway. She laughed to herself; people always thought nuclear devices were the worst forms of destruction on the earth, the ones set to pose the most damage to any living form. What did they know? They were a media fed mass, and while nuclear devices did have a bang for their buck, they weren't the only means of destroying the riech. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she supposed. Why else would she have designed a photon bomb with a 400,000 kilo-ton payload? Why else would she have equipped it with smallpox, tuberculosis, and cholera in blast proof capsules?

Anna wasn't stupid and while she was proud of the device she made, proud for carrying it around inside of her body, she was still very afraid of it…. Which was why she encoded the manufacturing plans for the bomb in the microchip. It was a microchip and to access its data was start its detonation sequence. The detonation sequence was a total of three hours long, and it took two hours and forty five minutes exactly to run off all of the bombs plans encoded within the data. But even then they wouldn't be able to save the information, for she had encrypted the code to be unable to be saved onto a hard-drive, to be unable to be relayed to a remote device, and once the sequence started it would have to be manually removed from the computer to get it out. However, manually removing the micro-chip was going to prematurely detonate the bomb. And, even if you printed out all of the blueprints, you wouldn't have time to escape the wrath, because once the bomb detonated, it destroyed one thousand square miles instantly. The following matter and concussion waves would destroy everything else with deadly sound and fire pulses until roughly an area the size of the reich would be destroyed. To make sure that everything in its path was destroyed, sixteen hours after the last pulse of energy went through it would release the diseases from the blast-proof capsules, killing everything else.

Anna had to chuckle to herself, the only way to destroy her microchip was to detonate it, and it wasn’t like the thing could be shot into space. She mildly thought about putting destroy codes in the data’s main code stream, but it had taken her five years to develop this prototype. Another scary thought, this thing was only a prototype.

Damon looked to Destiny, no emotion filling his face, his voice cold and unfeeling within the room of a force more powerful then thirty testosterone crazed men. "Richard, take her to attend to that pathetic weakling. Shut her up while you are at it. She's got the most annoying cry ever. I trust you'll be back here as soon as his health is ensured, if it's not too late."

Turning his gaze back to the rest of The Reich Freedom Fighters, he placed the gun onto the table and looked at each of the men closely, taking in something about them that only he could observe, some slight reaction or movement that only he could decipher among their cold set faces, like walking mannequins of a colder harder look that would revamp the world of Barbie forever.

Richard didnt know if it was a small victory or a defeat.. they were just going to die in the end anyways. He stood up and gained his composure, walking over to Destiny, standing next to her, but facing away.

"Alright, Destiny, you have your wish.. you must now hope that you dont disappoint me by making it your last. Come with me into the medical facility nearby, or stay here and entertain these men."

Looking to the Reich Freedom Fighters sitting at the table, Richard said, "Ill need a gun to watch over these prisoners."

Damon slipped one our from under his suit, and placed it his hands.. Richard avoided looking at it and put it in the back of his pants, next to the small of his back. Destiny eagerly followed him into the nearby medical facility, while Richard took note of a hint of disappointment in some of the men's faces over Destiny's leaving.

Richard walked with the pace of someone who had somewhere to go, Destiny nearly falling over with thank-you's at Richard. They entered the facility, and Destiny left Richard's side as quickly as a lightning bolt, running over to help her brother.

Anna placed the micro-chip back in its resting place under her left breast, and pushed her computer into the knapsack. Her best bet now was to find Fox, he might know what was going on. Standing up, she pulled off her knit cap, and let her brown-red hair fall free, she shoved that into the knapsack as well. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the sound of wheels creaking down a hallway. So she tried to remember what direction the sound was headed. Leaving her position she let her hand trail along the wall in the dim light, committing the feel, like thousands of others, to memory so that if the power went out she wouldn't be so handi-capped by her eye.

Waiting for the secure click of the door, Damon continued to observe the rest of the Freedom Fighters, slowly moving his cold gaze from one man to the next, looking for some slight movement or indication to determine what each one was thinking. An enemy to his own people.....one wrong move and he would be a dead man.

Scanning the room, he found that it was indeed a secure room, what would be said there would stay with them, and now with The Red Queen disabled, they would have a level of security, with no annoying artifical intelligences disturbing their meeting.

Removing his glasses, he placed them on the table before him. It was a momentary hesitation, the rest of The Reich Freedom Fighters contemplating whether or not to follow his lead. For the first time in a long time, each one at a time removed his dark reflective shades and placed them on the table before him....an awkward silence filling the room.

Staring into the eyes of each of his men, he took careful note to their reactions, staring into the shades ranging from piercing blue all the way to brown. Closing his eyes for a moment, he gathered his thoughts before opening them and looking to the men again.

"I did not bring you here for small talk. I realize that it is all of your duties to annihiliate my existence. This is the way we work, I know the code very well, and I intend on following it through until the end, but now is the not the time. I have been ordered to be killed, not because my identity was compromised in The Dictatorship when I fell deathly ill to the subzero temperatures, but because there has been in rift in our internal structure. Most of you are loyal still, or else you would not have allowed me the chance to explain myself and my actions.

"Let me begin by addressing the issue of my life. I will end my own life, but as it stands, my life is too important to end before we complete this mission. The knowledge I possess on the matter, on our targets, of the land and people of these nations is too valuable to eradicate at this moment. Allow me to complete this mission before you all decide to end my life.

"Also, Anna is not to be harmed. She was the only one who saw my identity and that was because I was left severly impaired at the moment. I know it is our code to kill all those who know our identity, but I think she can be of far more interest to us alive at this point. I'm ordering that none of you take the hit on her, she's potentially important to us.

"Speaking of use to us, Richard will be turned into one of us. He has proved time and time again that he is loyal to me. He had far too many oppurtunities to kill me and not once has he made the move. You know the procedure to convert him.....bring that boy hell.

"And a side thought, they think I'm Damon. I have a record on Damon, he was on of the Reich Hierarchy who was captured by Dante and then released when Dante lost his empire. Apparently he was killed according to our intelligence agent in the area at the time, but no one else knows. We can use this information to our advantage. I will become their Damon.

"Last note, the rest are here. I think you all heard, so I will not go into depth. I'm just going to ask you to find who your allegiance is with. You've worked with me long enough to know the truth. What happened had happened, but there are explanations for what happened. I'll let you decide for yourselves who you choose to work with, but under no circumstances are any of you to kill me until I complete this mission."

Damon broke for a moment, watching the men who adverted their eyes when his hard gaze met their's. Few kept their eyes on him and Damon knew that he would have to try harder to gain back their allegiance, but right now, he could do little to prove his integrity to them.

"Oh, and guys, I'm going to need protection for awhile. This damn Beta Blocker I was injected with to subdue has froze up my muscles....I can't move them for shit yet. So until I gain back my maneuverability, I'm going to need your protection."

Seeing that only two of the men nodded, Damon himself nodded, he would need to be far more persuasive.

"I was in The Depths of Hell," he said apathetically, his cold voice without emotion sounding eerie in the silence of the room, the men's eyes shooting to him with looks of disbelief.

With streaming tears and a piercing cry, Destiny dropped to her knees aside Alex. "Oh goodness, Alex, please be alive! I can't lose you my brother. I need you," she whispered in his ear, as she pulled his unmoving body closer toward her.

"Richard, please help me get him onto a bed. He needs help. He'll die.... I need my brother Richard, will you please help me?"

Richard looked at her with a cold face, "I told you before that I would help," and muttered under his breath, "you had better not die."

Destiny looked to him hurt, feeling somehow vindicated by his coldness. "Richard, I don't know what happened to you, but this is not you. When you left this mansion, we mattered to you with no obligations.....and then, we were mere strangers, names that meant absolutely nothing to you."

After a moment's silence, she looked to Richard, "Leave us be, I'll help him myself." Struggling against her brother's weight, she managed to hoist him into a bed rather crudely, tilting his head back and checking his vitals, as her brother's closed eyes stared at the ceiling, appearing to be either in a deep sleep or having just died recently.

"I... wish you and your brother the best of luck," Richard said, spluttering out the last bit as quickly as he could, feeling suddenly uncomfortable again.

Walking over to a chair in a dark corner nearby, Richard took a seat with his gun out.. touching it, reacquainting himself with something he hadnt used in years; his eyes darting up to watch Alex and Destiny from time to time, it appeared as if she had forgotten that he was there.

Good.. perhaps that would be best for everyone involved.

"Destiny," Richard said suddenly when it appeared as if Destiny was taking a break, "I apologize. Things have happened, im not.... im not who I was, ive been forced to make hard decisions, to let go of my life. I helped your brother because I could empathize with his pain, I can no longer do that for anyone, it hurts too much."

He paused and collected his thoughts and emotions, "If Alex survives, take him to the most distant and secluded corner of The Reich; do not come back here, these men dont like their identity comprimised. As it is, expect death at all times. Im sorry for troubling you."

Destiny cried as she frantically searched for her brother's weak vitals, unable to tell whether or not he was alive.

"Damn you Richard! Do you think that none of us has been through rough times? Do you honestly believe that none of us had made hard decisions? Those guys are assholes, but you're just letting them walk all over you, letting them control you! Are you proud of yourself for that? Are you proud that you've lost your voice among a bunch of ruthless pigs? There are many different kinds of people in The Reich, and the one that is remembered the most are those who stand up for what they believe and die for that cause because they will not abandon it. My father was one of those men....and he had made a hard decision himself, but he chose to not let other's control him and change him, and decided that it was more important to die then to have someone hold him and his friends' lives hostage."

Wiping the tears from her face, she brought her head to Alex's mouth, feeling a slight barely distinguishable breath come from it. He was alive, just barely, his vitals weak. Losing stability, she felt her knees shake, and stumbled back onto the ground in a horrible wreck of tears.

"I'm sorry Alex....I don't know what to do," she sobbed quietly, the memories of her father's smile swimiming through her memory like fish dipping beneath murky water for food just sprinkled atop its watery surface.

"It doesnt always work out that way Destiny; all that matters is what ive become, not what you hope for me to be, and that you heed my advice. I already know that I wasnt strong enough to handle the problems that headed my way; I am strong enough now, so there's no reason to worry about it."

Richard finished his tirade and finally noticed Destiny sitting on the floor, "there is a defibrillator on the wall, adrenaline on the shelves, and all the supplies you need in this room, Destiny.. keep it together to save your brother, this is all beyond my simple first-aid scope of medicine."

Then Richard got an idea, running over to the intercom system on the wall, Richard spoke into it with urgency, "we need a doctor or any personnel qualified in the medical facility immediately, approach from the south side."

He avoided Destiny's eyes until the medical personnel he called for arrived, Richard left the room, and stood outside the doors, unable to stay in the company of people anymore.

Destiny watched as Richard left, malice growing within her. "Alex, forgive me, but someone will be here to help you. I may not be back my brother, but know in your heart that I have always loved you.....always will......despite what happens. And whatever happens, do not seek revenge or answers, but continue on our name for our father Alex," she finished, standing to her feet and wiping the tears from her eyes, regaining her composure.

"Goodbye my brother," she whispered as she turned, leaving the room in persuit of Richard. Finding Richard outside the door, she glared at him harshly.

"You digust me," she said before snatching the gun out of his hand, and aiming it at him. "I'll show you how we do things in The Reich."

Taking two steps back away from Richard, she headed toward the conference room again, holding the gun at him, anger buring in her eyes.

Richard sat down until she disappeared; knowing full well that he had no control over her life at this point. She was headed for the confrence room, it certainly wouldnt be wise to barge in on a group of Freedom Fighters having a discussion.

He sighed and stood up, walking back into the room with Alex picking up a scalpel, "im sorry," he said with barely restrained anger.

Picking Alex up in his arms, he began to carry him double time back towards the direction of the confrence room, holding him in front of his heart with his hands under his body.. one hand with the scalpel pressed against Alex's throat.

Catching up to Destiny, who seemed to be readying herself, he yelled, "DESTINY! I have someone you might want to talk to... dont go into that room, or they'll kill you, no questions asked.. no sympathy felt."

"You bastard! Unhand him...... He's ill. Why do you want you us to die so badly? Just leave him alone Richard..... I know what I'm doing. I don't care if I die, but my brother needs to get out of here alive. Please Richard, if you have any ounce of integrity left, leave him be! Why do you need to bring him into this? And damn it, put him down so he can breathe!"

Unable to hold the gun up to her brother, she stepped away. "Richard.....please don't do this....."

"I dont want to do this to you, or your brother Destiny.. but you have no purpose in that room, there is no need for you to be in there. You have 30 seconds to convince me otherwise, or give me back my gun. I will not harm you with it, but what use are you to your brother dead? What do you think he will say when he is revived by whatever medical personnel are left in this godforsaken mansion? He will be looking for his sister, and god help whoever gets in the way of finding you. Dont you think, if he was in your situation, that he would choose your life over his, just as you are now? Dont be foolish, you're no good to him dead, and he's no good to you dead. Come back to the medical facility with me, you can keep the gun until we get back, and ill handle your brother with as much care as I can.. then we'll make a trade, and you'll stay in the room with your brother. He needs YOU, not me."

He finished his rant and awaited Destiny's decision.

"They told me to come back.....I made them a promise. I can't go back on my word, it will dishonor all we stand for. Please stop making this more difficult for me. I don't know what these people want......but please damn it Richard......stop making this more difficult. I need Alex to live; The Reich needs Alex to live. He's a good man, a little angry at times, but he's a good man Richard. Don't do this......," she begged, fighting back the resurfacing tears. She mustn't cry now.....not now.....

Searching for some sort of answer in her head, something to convince him to reconsider his stance, she looked into his eyes, eyes of a lost man with a lost cause. "Richard....is this because you were forced to kill C9? I'm sorry you were put into that position......she had problems, we all know she did, but you did the right thing Richard; anyone in your position would have."

Briefly pausing, she sought deeper into those eyes, searching and hoping for some sort of answer. ".....That man you brought in.....I think I know him. I think he was father's friend. I remember stories, pictures, faint memories still somewhat there, but I think he was my father's friend. I think his name was Damon, he was tortured by Dante for longer then any of us can remember......what does he mean to you Richard?"

Richard stared blankly at Destiny, but his mind was on fire.. she had mentioned a name... C9

Did I kill her? I.... I dont remember

Richard shook his head violently to clear out the images of C9 from his head, he had long ago moved away the scalpel blade from Alex's throat, and he was careful not to do him anymore harm, "im sorry Destiny, but I didnt hear the last thing you said."

She gave him a look of bewilderment and said, "That man you brought in.. I think he was my father's friend and I think his name was Damon, he was tortured by Dante for longer then any of us can remember......what does he mean to you Richard?"

"Damon... odd, that is his name Destiny," his eyes widened while his voice took on a frantic note, he would have shook her in shock (OOC: NOT THE MEDICAL TYPE OF SHOCK! :P) if he didnt already have her brother in his arms, "that is not the Damon your father befriended, he has changed, your father must have been a good man to raise you like he did, into a woman with morals, and a love of him and your brother; so I assume he would make friends of good men. The Damon I know is... strict, and knows nothing beyond discipline.. of himself and others.

Lets get back to the medical facility.. I do not know the range of talents that the men behind that door possess.. I dont doubt ill learn.. but I feel as if there are eyes on me all the time now... odd.. and your brother needs attention."

Destiny stepped back, "I can't do that Richard. They told me to come back here. If they didn't want me back here, they wouldn't have told me to come back.....I wouldn't have promised."

Holding the gun up once again, she stepped back further, moving toward the conference room. "Richard, please just help Alex for me....."

"I dont think that they meant for you to come back with a gun during their meeting, Destiny. THEY will summon us; hear my logic Destiny, im watching over you and Alex for Damon. You said you would return as soon as you got done helping Alex, you're not done helping Alex.. this isnt an arguement I thought I would have to have with anyone ever," Richard shook his head, "certain death versus staying with your brother who needs you. They will see us soon, but not now.. if they see you now, they are likely to kill you and yea.. probably me too.

Im not telling you to go back on your promise, im telling you that it does NOT need to be fulfilled at the moment."

"I appreciate your concern, but these men mean business. And if they kill me, then good, I'd rather die then be a puppet of some sort to them. If they were going to let me live, they would have just let Alex and us alone in the medical facility. Really Richard, how certain are you that you know these men? How certain are you that they are not going to kill me, kill Alex, after all is said and done? I don't like how they hide behind those glasses of their's. Any man who doesn't show his face is not a man to be trusted.....men like masks, it gives them a level of anonmity that enhances colder baser instincts like killing or brutalizing women," she stopped, staring from her brother's frail figure to Richard.

Hesitating, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and unable to trust Richard, she raised the gun with a steady aim, her voice growing rigid, "And what has you so so certain they are going to kill me if I go in, that they are having some sort of confidential meeting that results in death.......Richard, you aren't tell me something."

Richard realized that the situation had just become intense, "Thats right, im not telling you a lot of things... Listen Destiny, I dont know what the fuck is going on myself. I was sent to watch you, they would not have had me watch over you and your brother if they wanted you to come back at your leisure. All you need to know is, if you go in there, you die, your brother dies, and ill probably die. Doesnt that tell you that I have no choice in the matter? Do you think that if I had a choice, I would have not watched two loves in my life die by the hands of a single group of men?

The issue is done, come with me, or continue to risk all of our lives. This game is really starting to bug the shit out of me. I dont know what those men are going to do, and I dont care if you displace your hatred onto me, but if you go into that room, you'll be killing all of us, that includes Alex here.. my life is worthless, but I thought you cared more for your brother. Make your decision, no more small talk."

He stared at her impassively, his voice going from an angry pitch to a calm one by the end.. he had no connection to these people, none to his own life. She would kill him, herself, or come back with him.. it didnt matter.

"You have no choice in the matter Destiny, there's nothing about me to trust or distrust. Im merely a guard. Nothing more."

Anna had felt-mapped the hallways for a while, she hadn't encountered Fox yet and she didn't know where she was. She walked a couple hundred more feet and debated finding her way back to Admiral Hunny*Dews room when she heard voices. She recognized Richards voice, but the second feminine voice was entirely new to her. There were other people here? she thought. Turning the corner she stopped short, there was Richard and a woman with orange-red hair done up in curls, in an emerald green dress that matched her eyes exactly. She was pointing a gun at Richard.

"Excuse me," Anna said stepping into the light. "But just who are you, and why the fuck are you pointing a gun at Richard?"

The girl with the red hair turned to face her, the guns angle dropping slightly to point at Richards crotch area. Before the woman could speak, she noticed the man lying on the floor, it was clear he needed medical attention. Anna pushed her dark hair behind her ears and prepared to get a closer look at the man, when the woman stepped in front of her and pointed the gun between her eyes.

"I can ask you the same: Who the hell are you? How do you know Richard? ......and are you in on all of this as well?" Destiny snapped, shocked by the conspiracy that seemed to be laid before her in the time span since they had left for The Depths of Hell. So many new people had emerged; Destiny had stayed with Alex the entire time, even when Der Fuhrer had brought Dante back and he left, and even when Der Fuhrer and Mathias were both captured. Last she remembered, Richard was on The Reich's side, on their side, so what the hell had happened?

"No one move, damn it. NO ONE MOVE!" she yelled, moving the gun from one to the other as she stepped back, pressing herself against the wall. She could see the conference room doors no more then twenty feet away.....she was so close and here she was pinned back to the wall with two people she did not know, one who had her brother in his clutches, threatening his life and decreasing his chances of survival with each minute he detained Alex there.

Overwhelmed by her emotions and the thought of her brother dying, the tears resurfaced, streaming down her face steadily as she kept her aim moving from one to the other, waiting for some answer.

The woman with the gun had backed up against a wall, it was obvious that she was in distress. She kept moving her aim back and forth from Richard to Anna, and glancing at the door that was less than twenty feet away. Richard had yet to say anything, but he was propping the other man up, using him as a sheild. Anna stepped forward to make eye contact with the woman. She needed to keep constant eye contact with her, in hopes of making the other woman feel comfortable and less defensive.

"My name is Anna Castell. I am from the Republik of Ferdinand Foch, I am here in this Mansion because I joined the war effort, and was brought here with Admiral Hunny*Dew on a transport. I have no idea what is going on, and I don't know who you are. I don't even know the man on the floor, but I'd like to help him if you'd let me," she said. All the time that she had been speaking she had slowly advanced her left hand until it was firmly wrapped around the barrel of the gun. It was a stupid move, but keeping the distraught woman armed was not in anyones best intrest. She would have to move fast to try to disarm her of it by pulling up and then sharply to the left and down, which, Anna hoped, would break the womans grip on the gun.

The woman took a deep breath then, and said "I'm Destiny," at the exact moment Anna tried to wrench the gun from her grip. The only problem was Anna had forgotten to check if the woman had her finger on the trigger or not....

A shot rang out in the quiet hallway.

Feeling his muscles begin to ease up slightly, sending a nervous tingle up through his body which caused him to tremble just slightly despite his inability to feel anything but the paralysis of his muscles, Damon closed his eyes again, knowing that The Reich Freedom Fighters were watching his every move, analyzing every slight twitch and tremor his body made for a sign of weakness that would discredit him, giving them a chance to eradicate his vulnerable life at that moment.

"You heard me correctly," he spoke in his cold emotionless voice, "I was in The Depths of Hell. How do you think we are capable of sitting here without being incinerated by The Red Queen? Speaking of, we need to secure ourselves within this mansion. We'll take over this room; find all mirrors you can and bring it into this room. We'll have to isolate ourselves into this room if we're going to set up a base away from her. When I gain moverability, I'm going to find a way to get to The Red Queen free zone, but until then, you need to secure us into this room. And while you're at it, find the others. They've had enough time."

Nodding, the men placed back on their glasses, Damon instructing one to stay by his side to protect him in the event someone attempted to claim his life. As the rest opened the door, a gunshot was heard, and they drew their weapons quickly, aiming them at each member in the room, including the unconscious Alex being held by Richard.

"You all, what the hell is going on?" one asked annoyed, fanning out closer to Richard. The bullet having just missed Anna barely, cutting her arm about an inch or so in the process, but planting itself in the wall behind her. She stood there a moment, perhaps still contemplating the wound she had just received, as the blood started to gather in the wound and trickle down her arm in a small red stream. The men looked around at each other before nodding and taking a formation to secure the backs of each one.

"Drop the weapon," one ordered coldly, seeing the gun still in the hands of both Destiny and Anna.

Shock hit Anna, there were more men like Damon? What the hell was this? They had told her to drop the weapon but she and the woman called Destiny had yet to release the weapon. Panic set in, they all had guns, they were all alike. What were they here for? The Foch AI didn't know she was here, he couldn't know that she was here. By coming into the reich she had left the range of its permeability. She took several ragged breaths, and looked from Destiny, to Richard, to the men.

Her arm was burning, and her stomach was roiling. She had lost too much blood from the incision in her hip and now the fresh wound which was trickling blood down her arm. It was hitting the floor with a steady drip. She was trying to calm herself, and the order to put the weapon down barely registered in her mind. She had her backpack, she was bleeding, she didn't know what kind of company she was in. The flat 2D images of the men scared her, and pushed her into survival mode. She blinked once. Then she ripped the gun down out of Destiny's grasp, turned and ran back down the hallway, checking the magazine as she went. She had to get out of here, she had to get to a safe place. These men could not know who she was.

Richard felt oddly comforted by the Freedom Fighter presence.. they had ended a standstill between him and Destiny that had felt like it had gone on for too long, and was growing too tense.

He spoke calmly to Destiny, "you should have relinquished the firearm," then to everyone in attendance, "ill bring Alex back to the medical ward so that he can have a bed and return myself momentarily.. unless you would rather me chase after Anna? I could use her help with Alex."

Angered, one of the men surged forth, striking Destiny, knocking her onto the floor. "This is bullshit! You go get that bitch, I'll take this one in to Damon," he said narrowing his eyes as he hoisted a confused Destiny onto his shoulder. Unable to control her emotions, she watched as the men moved closer to Richard and Alex, her tears running down her face again, her head throbbing with the metallic taste of blood inside her mouth.

Opening the door, the man threw Destiny inside before closing it and standing guard outside, watching the others formulate a plan. One of the men broke off from the group and headed in the direction Anna was running, moving at a moderate run, the thrust of each step showing the incredible power each of these men were capable of harnessing. They were ruthless killers, like lions in the heat of battle for territory.

Moving on Richard, the man grabbed Alex away from him, checking his pulse before thrusting Alex back into Richard's arms. "Get him out of here, he's useless. Snap his neck if you have to....he's not important us. Meet us back at the conference room when you are done with this," he said looking at Alex as if he were a pathetic wreck garabage.


In the mean time, the sole Reich Freedom Fighter began to gain distance on Anna, following the blood droplets through the labrinythe of corridors that made up Mathias's mansion.

Richard looked at the angry RFF with a slight mixture of confusion and regret. I didnt know that they came that way. They seemed so.. inhuman before, that its strange seeing one of them with emotion. It seems to make them less formidible, more exposed to the world.. cracks arent Damon's thing, or are they..?

He didnt need to speak. Merely shaking his head, "yes," Richard kept his hold on Alex, and walked him back to the medical ward, placing him on a comfortable bed.. double checking his vital signs to ensure that he was still alive.

I wont kill him.. what do they think I am? Some sort of murderer?

"I guess you're alone, left to your own devices for a while Alex.. hopefully someone who can help you will come along shortly to administer aid."

He didnt understand why he was speaking to someone who couldnt hear, so he frowned and traipsed back to the confrence room, announcing himself upon entry, "Richard entering. Im back, Alex has been taken care of. Anything else?"

Damon did not turn as Richard entered the room, he merely slid his glasses back on, his emotionless voice sounding as apathetic and cold as ever, "Sit down Richard."

Destiny looked in fear at the man who had just placed his glasses back on....he never opened his eyes.....was he blind? She was sitting to Damon's left across from the seat where Richard was directed to sit by the other Freedom Fighter within. With fear in her eyes, she searched Richard for some sort of answer concerning her brother's health.....some sort of knowledge, a wink, a half grimace, anything that might alleivate her fears or confirm them towards her brother's seemingly emminent demise.

"Richard....." she whispered, her voice lamentful and shaking, her eyes darting quickly from Damon back to the other man. "Is he alive?"

When silence filled the room, the tears began to fill her eyes again, the blood from her lip still dripping slightly. "Please....." she begged, but cut herself short when the other Freedom Fighter shifted his stance momentarily. Terror filling her, she looked to the man again, to Richard, and Damon before putting her head down and sobbing silently to herself.

Anna knew someone was behind her, she had heard them follow her after she had turned the second corridor. Being blind in one eye did have its advantages. Even though she knew she was in danger, the situation held familiarity for her. She felt like she was back in Foch again, fleeing the AI's reach through the uninhabited highlands to the northwest of the country.

If she had to face this guy she wanted to be in a confined space that she knew the layout for well. Knowing exactly where to go, she turned the corner and headed to the chamber that she had booby trapped earlier. If Anna's follower was as smart and as deadly as she thought he was, this would only piss him off. And she hoped that his anger would make him sloppy, giving her a small advantage.

Gaining access to the room, she made her way around the duct tape and syringe impalement traps by the door and over the microfillament wire trip-maze she had macguyvered from the life support kit earlier. Reaching the bed, she looked at Hunny*Dew. She was still pale. Trying to be as gentle as possible Anna quickly lifted the Admiral and placed her in the wheel chair by the bed. She wheeled the Admiral into the closet, and barricaded her with the matresses from the bed and the blankets. Then she locked the Admiral in the closet.

Anna returned to the center of the room, taking stock of what she might use as a weapon. She removed her boots, and any bulky clothing in preparation of the confrontation. Her arm was still bleeding, leaving a red trail down her olive skin, and the wound in her hip had re-opened because of the running and blood was pooling on the floor beneath her feet, but she didn't care. This was kill or be killed, or so she thought, and she wanted to go down screaming.

Breathing deeply and waiting for the door to implode with the arrival of her persuer.

Richard didnt dare reveal anything in his emotions or voice as he looked at Destiny, he was tired of giving his life away with his emotions.

He forced himself to feel nothing for Destiny, for the plight she was going through for her brother. He hadnt spoken to his in a long time, but it didnt remove the memory of having profound feelings for him.

Richard whispered a silent echo in his head, im sorry Destiny, but she couldnt hear it, there was no comfort for her, and she probably hated him at the moment.

Well, he thought, at least it'll make her happier in the end to see him alive.. I do hope he lives...... They all had such pretty smiles.. all three of them.

He snapped back to attention and watched Damon the three of them.. truly a man to model the structure of one's self.

Working his way down the corridor, having left the group in search of mirrors outside, one of the Reich Freedom Fighters watched closely, monitoring the area before advancing. No one was within sight of the main enterence....he decided to move forward, remaining out of immediate sight; the sound of his shoes on the onyx floor the only sound within that part of the mansion.

Opening the door, which oddly did not open with a loud creak that he had imagined it would, he felt the rush of cold air move past him. He would scan the outlying destruction of Stadt...."what little good that would do, his mind laughed.

He heard the shot and stumbled back with force. This was not their normal silenced weapons.....what were they trying to do? Backing up inside the mansion, he continued to stumble backward until his back pressed itself against one of the pillars of the foyer. He removed his hands from his abdomen, a dark red substance he was familiar with covering them. Looking down, he saw the damage, his torn abdomen looked like he was just in war; it was far too messy to be the normal clean weapons these men opted to use. What the hell were they doing?

Sliding down the pillar, he felt his body growing heavy beneath gravity, slumping beneath the pressure it exerted on him. "Fuck," he managed.
"They're here..... I'm shot.... I'll be dead....in less then.....five minutes...," he gasped slowly and painfully. "Secure yourselves," he managed to finish before he dropped his head, staring at the black shoes that stepped before him, seeing nothing more then the shiny tips of that man's polished and clean shoes.

The Reich Freedom Fighter followed the blood path to a rather large set of doors, stopping before them with a hault, keeping his gun aimed before him. Checking the corridors quickly, he noted that no one was hidden in anticipation of pinning him from behind.

Using the bulk of his weight, he twisted the nob and slammed his weight into them, thrusting them open with a vengence. He did not immediately see Anna, the opulent room in shambles, disorderly in appearence despite the expensive luxery within. His eyes scanned the room, blood smears throughout it, especially coming from the bathroom, where there appeared to be a murder or close enough to one.

"They must have killed Hunny*Dew in here," he thought as he ran his eyes over the room, trying to locate the position of Anna, his gun following the path of his eyes across the span of the room.

"Surrender now. There's no real pointing in fighting us," he spoke cooly, looking over the room.....until he heard the gunshot and the gasped breaths. Had they just killed on of their own?

"Fuck," he muttered, stepping back quickly, pressing himself into the wall. "Fuck.....fuck......fuck....." he murmured, looking around the room rather hastily before looking back to the door. He would need to get back to that conference room, but what would happen if he didn't return with that woman?

Anna froze when she heard the gunshot. She knew she wasn't being shot at, and if her persuer hadn't opened the door she probably wouldn't have heard it. Instead, she had heard it, and he had too. She could read the confusion radiating from his stance as he turned back to the sound, even though he had his sunglasses on. This was her chance, her moment of opportunity, if she could stun him and get by she might be able to make it to Fox.

He was still turned slightly when she rushed him, catching him around the waist and trying to use her momentum to overbalance him. They crashed to the ground with her on top, and she tried to reach for the gun in the very small time it took him to recover. The blood from her hip surged forth soaking his pants and spilling onto the ground. She clamped her hand around the wrist that was holding the gun, as he flipped her underneath him. She kicked and thrust her legs and body to keep him from completely locking her to the ground, even as he smashed the hand holding his wrist into the ground. She gnashed her teeth and tried to bite him, as he raised her arm and slammed it into the ground. He was getting really annoyed, and didn't give a flying fuck about Damon's orders not to hurt the bitch. He slammed her wrist into the ground again and heard her carpal and metacarpals shatter, with a satisfying crunch and a scream. She had bled another liter onto the floor and was going into shock, him breaking her wrist pushed her beyond the edge and she passed out.

Sighing he stood up, grabbed her thick brown hair near the scalp and dragged her down the hallway by it. Such a shame, he really didn't like hurting people. But whatever it took by whatever means to get the job done was his duty, and thats how it would always be.

Dragging Anna down the hall towards the conference room, he dropped Anna, hoisting her up into his arms......a father carrying his sleeping daugther to the comfort of her bedroom.

Passing the conference room, he veered right and made his way down a small labyrinthe of corridors to find himself at the medical facility, where he laid her on a table next to Alex. A doctor had somehow arrived in the time since they had left Alex alone in the room, and was in the next room retrieving medical supplies needed to work on his unconscious patient. Least did the doctor know, he would be stuck with two during his brief absence. Leaving Anna on the table, he turned and left with a silent haste, before the doctor returned to find the unconscious Anna bleeding on a table. Looking about the room with a distinct confusion, he started taking Anna's vitals, which were rapidly weakening. Beginning with her first, he began to patch up her bleeding wounds, treating her as if he were working on a Reich Official.

And in the midst of Anna's recovery, the Reich Freedom Fighter had returned to the conference room, the coagulated sticky blood now cold rubbing against his legs and crotch. The one part of his job that disturbed him the most.....the feel of cold blood soaked fabric pressing against his skin.....it was worse then having to sit in a pair of jeans you accidently peed while riding the bus home from a long school trip.

Fox was tired, he really hated being a soldier. It served him no purpose, he couldn't do what he needed to do, which needless to say really pissed him off. This entire business pissed him off. Superior officers? Heh, fuck them. He shook his head, he needed to stop thinking like this, it bordered on insubordination, even if it was only inside of his head. He needed to think clearly and finish the task his CO had given him: securing the medical facility and those inside of it.

He hadn't heard anything since coming into the mansion, but the droplets of blood on the ground sent chills up his arm. He was passing the Admiral's quarters when he saw the giant red stain spreading across the torn and dirty carpet. Someone had obviously been attacked here, stepping over the bloodstain he saw the edge of a torn and dirty leather knapsack sticking out. Fear gripped him, and he stepped inside, realizing whose blood that was. He flicked on the light and the earlier carnage greated him, still grisly to his mind. Anna was nowhere to be found, and he noticed the bedding and the mattresses were gone from the bed. He walked the perimeter of the room checking the doors, and when he reached ones that were locked, he would kick them in. So far none of the doors were locked, until he reached the closet.

He tried the handle twice registering the fact that it was locked, so he kicked the door in, and turned the light on in the closet. He noticed the mattress and bedding barricade, which he dismantled, uncovering a very pale and weak looking Admiral. Alarm and shock raced through him, and he knew that this had something to do with Anna and whoever was in the mansion. After moving the last mattress, he noticed that the Admiral was in a wheelchair, which struck him as odd. He pushed the Admiral out of the closet and out of the room, grabbing Anna's knapsack along the way.

Pratically racing down the corridor, eerily following a drippy trail of blood, he headed for the medical facility. When he reached it, he thought it was deserted, which shouldn't be possible considering all of the carnage.

"Doctor!" he called. "Doctor! I have the Admiral, she needs immediate medical attention."

No answer. Sighing he pushed the Admiral to Operating room, hoping a medic or someone would pop up to help him. He pushed open the doors, and saw the doctor leaning over one bloody body, while another body lay on the next table over. He was disturbed by the sight of blood pouring profusely from the wounds of the body the doctor was attending to. It ran like a river to the ocean, down onto the stainless steel, spilling thick and hot to the white floor and meandering to the drain, where it dripped down into a dark pipe abyss.

"Doctor, I have the Admiral, she needs medical attention," Fox said. The doctor looked up perturbed from the female's black underwear clad form. "Yes, yes," the doctor said. "Take her into the next room over and try to stabilize her, the one I have here might not make it. She's all but bled herself dry."

Fox's eyes widened. "Her, sir?" he said weekly. The doctor shook his head. "Yes, a her," he said, as if Fox was stupid. Then he stepped away revealing Anna's lithe form, her dark hair matted where her blood had soaked into it, spilling over the table, exposing the small, dark, intricate tattoo behind her ear. Her olive skin was ashen grey and her lips a blue color. The thing that disturbed him the most was the fact that the wound to her arm and the gash in her hip pulsed blood forth in time with her weakening heartbeat, and her left wrist was black and blue and bent at an impossible angle. She was lying so exposed on the table, looking like a little broken dolly. His stomach rolled, he was going to be sick.

"Will you get out of my god damn operation room? She's going to die if you don't leave me to my work," the doctor said to Fox uncouthly. Fox abruptly turned and wheeled the Admiral out of the room and into the next room. He placed her in a hospital bed, trying to control the competing need to cry and be horribly, profoundly sick. He needed a bathroom, but he would have to pass by the operating room again. He couldn't look, so he ran past with his eyes shut, and started vomiting as he hit the bathroom door. Bent over the porcelain commode he puked his guts out, until dark sticky bile came up with his stomach acid. Shuddering, he pushed himself against the wall, and for the first time in ten years began to cry, cry over someone who really didn't even matter to anyone.

Damon shifted his weight in the chair, moving his legs out slowly, the stiffness working its way out. Colder then ice, his manner of steel, he placed his hands on the table, using them to help push him onto his feet. Unable to feel the tingling pins and needles shooting through his legs, like one who moves after a limb has fallen asleep, he planted himself firmly on the floor, swaying slightly from his stiffened muscles threatening to take him down.

"We can't stay here. We'll be slaughtered like chickens if we confine ourselves to this room. Richard, you've been throughout this mansion before with C9. She knew The Dictatorship and the layout of this mansion well. Where's the best place we can infuse ourselves into without being pinned in a corner and massacred?"

Apathetic as ever, he stepped stiffly, like a man with full leg braces on walks, moving toward the door, his legs still to stiff, causing him to collapse to one knee. "Damn," he muttered, trying to force himself back up, but finding his muscles still not relaxed enough to move freely. "Richard, take Destiny and guard her. Three One, lend me a hand. The rest of you, guard our asses. Richard, lead the way."

Three One moved up behind Damon, seizing him up and throwing Damon's arm around his should as he walked with Damon, following Richard's lead.

Richard mentally winced, he's counting on me to find a secure area, but I would say that the most secure area is anywhere he is!

As he started walking, with Destiny to his left side, and the rest of the group in tow, he couldn't shake the feeling of having eyes on him, of being watched even though the hallway they were in was completely empty. Where would he take everyone that would be safest? He had vivid imagery of Mathias' lab in his mind, one of the first places he went with C9.. it was rock solid and prepared to withstand assault upon assault, but would they be able to escape if necessary? He discarded the idea, not wanting to have to worry about bullet being fired in an area where the chemicals would be more dangerous than the searing hot rounds themselves.

Making up his mind with the steely resolve of someone who was wedged between a rock and a hard place and forced to cut off their own arm, knowing that he could die no matter where they were, no matter when, Richard angled them in the direction of Mathias' own bedroom. It was the perfect place he knew of, besides maybe any basement if there was one, with numerous escape routes, hiding places.. and hopefully a toilet... that round Destiny had fired at Anna during their confrontation loosened his bladder considerably in raw surprise.. for them to take full advantage of.

They collectively reached the bedroom, a huge set of doors that announced the start of Mathias' wing of the mansion. Richard opened the doors and led Destiny in just ahead of him, blocking Damon from view. He hadnt been in Mathias' bedroom before, but he could immediately tell that it was built with more than just comfort in mind, with its complex security system (now disabled) and its funnel shaped antechamber.

"Full escape out any one of the windows in this room; those two heavy doors, and a funnel like entryway room are the only paths of entry into this main chamber... I believe. You can set everyone up at various choke points in the room. It wouldn't be too remiss to say that we now have the upper hand."

Richard took his pocket knife, an old swiss army multi-function piece, and cut a swath of cloth from a nearby window drape. He used the cloth to tie the hands of Destiny under the watchful eye of Damon before asking, "I might be able to make use of the gun Destiny took from me earlier, may I have it back?"

Damon rolled over to individual Freedom Fighters to give instruction, flipping the light off on his way around towards him and Destiny.

It had been two days since Isaac had run off from the base. He lived on mere rations and whatever contraband had been stuffed into the bags by soldiers. A bar of chocolate, two bottles of whisky and several bags of funyun-rings rested against one wall while his bare accomidations on the other side. A puny campfire did it's job outside heating up a massive percolater. Isaac was surviving, but barely, off of canned ham, canned corn, canned coffee, canned water and canned bread. The low rumble of a plane startled him for a moment as it flew overhead. The blossiming of parachutes alerted him. About five or six marshmallow like objects began to descend towards the forest floor. Grabbing his rifle, he took careful aim at a paratrooper. The paratrooper's black jacket contrasted with the bleak desolate sky. Isaac stood behind a tree. Its dead gnarled branches covered the majority of his body. He began to take careful aim. The soldier was centered in his sights. Suddenly, the chute snagged on the tops of the trees and left the soldier 29 feet in the air. This certainly was playing out well for Isaac. The soldier quickly disengaged his parachute and he fell to the ground. The crunching of bone was heard as he landed on the frozen, rock hard ground. Isaac rushed over to the soldier. He was dead on impact. The badge on his arm meant he was a Popeleoman Land Forceman. Isaac took whatever he could from the dead body. Supplies, maps, compass, a watch, a copy of Motor Weekly and his sunglasses. Isaac wandered back into his makeshift hut. "I have to move fast." he thought to himself. He gathered his things into a bundle and torched the hut. He grabbed the boiling coffee pot and started to walk towards Stadt. It was nearly 2 in the afternoon when he stopped. 18 miles in 10 hours, he stood and panted. He He set up camp again and settled in, placing the now cold coffee pot onto a dinky fire he managed to set up.

Richard overheard bits of the conversation Damon was having with the Freedom Fighter closest to him, it sounded like he was to double time it back to the medical facility and bring Anna back, in case they all needed to make a quick escape. Richard supposed that Damon still had more uses for her.

He overheard another bit before the man rushed off towards Anna's location, "kill everyone else on sight," and the man traipsed off, out the massive doors and on a long journey to retrieve Anna. He moved with the gait of a leopard stalking its kill.. he knew the mission was dangerous, but Richard didnt have a doubt that he would be one to return safely.

15 minutes later, the man still had not arrived. Damon sat looking out of a window, hidden by shadow; his eyes reflecting what light remained.

Some time passed while Richard felt tension grow between his shoulder blades.. what was taking him so long? Where were the other Freedom Fighters?

The door creaked open, and in the darkness of the room, Richard could hear safeties being released, and guns being raised by the other Freedom Fighters in anticipation. Damon hadnt stirred.

Fox entered the room first, with a knife blade in his neck, pushing Anna in a wheelchair; Richard shivered at the remembered pain and helplessness of that experience of his. Anna looked rather peaceful, and nearly naked, Richard couldnt help but notice.. he could see the stains where blood had recently poured, and the ugly imprint of stitches on her shoulder and hip. She was laid down gently on a nearby sofa by the Freedom Fighter who had just entered, gun still pointed at Fox, its tip not moving, as if the gun were encased in stone.

The Freedom Fighter took the knife out of Fox's neck and said to Richard in cold tones, "tie him up like you tied her," pointing to Destiny, before placing extra blood on the side table near Anna and walking over to Damon to give him a status report.

Richard couldnt catch as much of that conversation, as he was cutting another strip of cloth to tie up Fox, but he did catch a bit, something about another woman with Anna who he secured for a, 'later retrieval.'

The man asked Damon, "should I go back for her?"

Damon gave Richard a look out of the corner of his glasses and answered, "later perhaps."

Waking in the dusk of day, the fading sunlight warm to her pale cold skin, she stared out over a small pond that caught the shadows of trees and danced with them. It was not much at all, a small pond with a few tadpoles lazily skimming the surface of the water, but to Der Fuhrer this simplicity was now the absolute beauty of life....oddly, she could not find herself unable to appreciate this simplicity any longer. Had complexity overrun her? Or had she just given up on life?

Standing slowly, feeling the sharp pain of her numerously broken legs scream through her body. C9 had stirred awake by her movement, trembling in fear.....a timid dog afraid of what may come from any slight movement.

"Get up C9, we have to leave quickly," Der Fuhrer spoke silently. She would not raise her voice to C9 any more then she had to. Whether it was camaderie or a mutual understanding.....they both shared something in common from their time in capitivity.....and it was a bond of understanding that went far deeper then any amnosity or betrayal of their past.

Working quickly, relatively speaking in their pain, they found themselves at a Whitecastle Harbor, one which spanned a great distance across the nation. It was now night, the sun having long fallen behind the horizon by the time they had arrived, shadowed by the darkness of the night. Der Fuhrer would be able to exploit this to her advantage....movement in the dark had not only saved her life numerous times, but provided her a chance to be herself, without worrying about what others may see of her, think of her.....and what would anyone think of her when they saw here there in nothing more than a pair of reflective sunglasses and a suit jacket traveling with a naked beat up woman....both having looked like they went through hell and back?

Sliding around the cover of the trees, the distance sparkled with white bright lights that danced on the ocean's water in a silent waltz. And barely caught in the distance proudly stood a massive ship, more sizable then any she had seen in her life, the cannons gleaming slightly in the moonlight, the deadily capablities of this ship felt even now. Genocide......

"ATTICUS!"........"I'm sorry."........The searing pain surged forth, starting in her lungs and taking over her muscular system. She felt momentarily the sensation of being moved, but could see nothing but darkness and feel nothing but excruciating pain surge throughout her body, as if her heart pumped pain rather then blood. And darkness.....a very long period of darkness.......

"Der Fuhrer?" C9's voice came out quietly, timid, fearful almost. "Hey, Dyszel....."

Snapping to attention, she looked to C9, seeing her figure distinctively in the darkness. Slowly and lamentful, a voice usually never associated with Der Fuhrer, "Did I die?"

"I don't know. Sorry," C9 responded, unsure of what else to say.

Without another word, clandestinely moving, Der Fuhere managed to slip her way to shore, seizing control of a yacht. Moving with haste, Der Fuhrer started the yacht, C9 watching for any sign of anyone noticing their departure. When all was clear, the crept out of the harbor, a seemingly late night couple going to watch the stars from the great open salted night sky. And without another moment's hesitation, they sped along once in the clear, working back to The Dictatorship, ready to fight until the last second.

It was some time after Nos had slowly awoken, seeing nothing through the darkness. His thoughts were silent, as he listened closely for the close movement of feet nearby. He was being watched and monitored....it would not be easy to escape.

Feeling his arm being seized, anger welled inside of him. "What the fuck do you want?" he cursed sharply, unsure of even who his captors were. And in a sudden movement, he felt a hand seize his shoulder, dislocating it without haste, being slowly ripped and twisted agnozingly from his body, Noskalenaeuroph screamed in intense pain. He could not see anything, but felt the blindfold tightly secured over his eyes and the agnozing pain surge through his body. Least did he know, Erzsebet and her lover Knut were merely ten feet in front of him, bound similiarily.

The hands released his disjointed arm, which limply fell to his side, shooting an overload of pain responses to his brain. His eyes welled with tears despite his ability to maintain some control over his emotions. "No more," he gasped, his teeth gritting in the pain, "No more."

Moving from Noskalenaeuroph, The Reich Freedom Fighter stooped down to Erzsebet, whispering lightly in her ear, "How much do you want him dead?" the voice spoke coldly in her ear, strong, masculine, deep....and cold.....the voice of one of many who had no problem killing people, eradicating the beating hearts and lives of people who were loved and love many in return.

Waking in the intense bright sunlight, a man groaned, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. They were almost there..... It has been over a year and a half, perhaps even two, since they began their journey, and of the dozen and some men that had orginally joined their quest, only five had remained. The first loss was a researcher who had accidentially fallen into a cave, landing on a stalagmite, killing him almost instantly, he suffered for only four minutes. The next two losses resulted in infections, rendering their bodies useless. Gradually, their group dwindled down to six....and they were forced to leave their friend who had fallen through the unstable roof early on their journey, behind at the Capital out of sheer necessity. Perhaps he was still alive, they would never know, but what they did know was that they would never survive even half way to Stadt des Meeres, the last known standing city in The Dictatorship unless they had left him behind; even so, their chances of survival seemed grim.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and yawned lazily as he watched the others managing to wake and do the same. Their bodies were degrading rapidly, if they did not make it to Stadt soon, they would simply perish as dust, as the countless nameless bodies they had crossed on their journey, and not only that, but their year to two years of hard work would have gone to a complete waste, if at least one person did not survive to report their findings.

With shaking legs, they five surged forth in soot and dirt covered heavy jackets, dirt covered bodies, torn clothing, and sallow faces. They looked like dead men walking from the grave, zombie like somehow in appearence. There last food had been a week ago and it was one of their own fallen. Stadt seemed far too impossible to reach, if only those planes that seldomly flew over would only see them traveling and stop, just once, to pick them up.

Feeling flush, the flight having taken longer then anticipated, Perry brushed the sweat forming on his forhead with the back of his hand. They were just within range of Mahanoy, having stopped half a dozen of times to refuel, and despite the cool air from the speeding plane, Perry was feeling hotter then ever, with his prized possession still unconscious behind him, feeling anxious that it had taken this long to get here.

But they had arrived, Mahanoy opening beneath them at the pass of a mountain range, a vast outspread of a massive nation's unstained soil and unscathed land spreading out far greater than anything imaginable; pure and pristine was this land. On the way to their landing zone, they passed massive cities here and there, the tips of their massive steal beasts glimmering in the sunlight, standing tall, noticable even from their great height. Such a breath taking nation, beyond anything within the realm of The Reich, and here it stood.....the home of Dante.

Perry had followed the coordinates Dante had programmed before their departure, and here it lay spreading before him, a vast complex.....Dante's home. He could only fathom the place such a man as Dante would have lived in; never in his wildest imagination could he picture himself staring down at the most astonishing sight his eyes would lay on. The greatest force that The Reich had known equivalent to Der Fuhrer Dyszel herself had resided within the protection of this massive complex, in one of those buildings where he had a bedroom, a true place to call his home.

Seeing a runway not far, he began his descent, circling the runway six times before the landing gear struck the hard surface, bringing the plane to a stop not far down the runway. Taxing, he slowly brought the plane to a hanger, turning off the plane. Hoisting Dante from the plane, he managed to drag Dante down from the plane and out of the hanger, only to be greeted by none other then a small army. Before he could move though, a rifle butt struck him across face and feeling nothing but lightness, Perry fell unconscious on the ground almost instantly.

Seized by the soldiers, the still unconscious Dante was taken into their hands, the faces of the soldiers impassive as two men carried Dante toward the complex where they were stopped by a little girl in a white lace lined and flower dress.

"Lock them up with Mathias," the little girl giggled, "and come get me when they wake up," she finished with an innocent smile. And turning away, Genocide stepped back inside the complex, walking the corridors alone. She couldn't help but look behind her, the sense of a familiar being standing behind her startling her. But when she turned, no person was in sight, the eerie feeling and chill coursing down her spine. She shivered breifly. Something about their new guests did not settle with her well.....something about this place seemed alive now, stalking her like a lioness, slowly, lazily, waiting for that precise moment to slash the throat of it's prey. Turning back in run, Genocide sealed herself in the room she assumed as her own; crawling in bed, she reached under her pillow to remove a small bear that she now held close to her.....feeling the odd compulsion to once again try to break into the forbidden areas of this complex, to try once again to get into those doors, as if these unanswered questions in her mind were connected to the mysteries of this complex.

Staring blankly into the rising sun, Der Fuhrer passed the ships that composed of Callisdrun's fleet. Stadt stood there, dark, decomposed, death's new deguise, and she was entering willingly to the hands of her own demise, opening before her, embracing her into it's bosom, pleased to claim her along with the countless other lives lost here already.

Her bare feet pressed against the blackened sand, pressing their imprints there as if frozen in immortal time. Slowly moving, one step at a time, in no immediate hurry to reach her final destination, she stared blankly at the destruction unfolding before her as she ascended the banks and the destroyed streets and buildings that once was the magnamious golden structures of Stadt des Meeres, the beauty of the sea.

Like the queen of the damned, Der Fuhrer straightened her back, slowly advancing in the destruction of her nation. Once more, she would assume control over the situation, and she would fight until death before she gave it up again this time. With her rifle on her back and C9 following behind her like a lost puppy following a potential owner. Her gaze stared forward seeing nothing as she advanced slowly forth from the depths and bowels of her own hell. Stopping in the shadows of Stadt, she stared up to the mansion, her face absently staring, no feelings surfacing within her as she stared at the place of so many memories, painful and blissful.

A crack, created from what sounded like abuse of a human body, awoke Erzsebet from her slumber. It was not a pleasant sound to wake up to, as it was soon followed by pained gasps and pleading from what sounded like Nos's voice. She could not help feeling fear creep up in her. After all, if Nos, the assassin, was pleading for mercy, their captors must be some very formidable people indeed. She could not see anything, she felt something around her head, which must have been a blindfold, and she had no idea where she was, or in whose hands, but there was no doubt about the fact she was in captivity. The feeling of being bound, unable to move, left her filled with a feeling of helpless terror, but also of rage. She'd have to do her best to control that.

Then she heard whispering in her ear, asking her how much she wanted "him" dead. Presumably, "him," meant Nos, as if the man had been referring to himself, he would have said "me." This of course, took less than a split second to think. He was probably the same man who had done whatever had just happened to Nos. This realization, in addition to the nameless captor's voice, sent shivers down her spine. Shit Erzsebet thought, realizing that the man probably knew how scared she was. If there was an emotion she hated admitting, it was fear. However, fear led her to answer the question honestly, as she could see no reason not to. Yet. "How much do I want him dead?" she repeated before going on. "Not much." Her voice was soft but she kept the shaking to a minimum, which was a considerable feat. She couldn't help thinking of how the man had asked her that question so casually, without any concern, no more concern than asking what her favorite color was. "He could have killed me easily, but didn't."

Not far away, Knut had been awake for a little while. He was terrified, but trying to think about his situation rationally. It was very difficult. After hearing what was happening to Nos, it was near impossible. Knut supposed he should take some satisfaction in the other man's pain, after all, did Nos not deserve it for threatening Erzsy so? However, he found that the sound was not comforting at all, and that instead of gloating, he felt sympathy for the assassin, and a bit of anger at such cruelty. He then heard some whispering, and then the voice of his beloved. Knut cringed slightly at what she said. She must be talking about Nos, he thought. But did she say too much?

Looking to the other Reich Freedom Fighters, the man nodded to the Freedom Fighter aside of Knut. The man acknowledged his silent command and stooped down to Knut's level, grabbing his arm and twisting rapidly out of the socket, just as they had done to Noskalenaeuroph, but not as slowly. When the satisfying telltale signs of pain were shown, the man released Knut.

Leaning back to Erzsebet's ear, the same cold deep masculine voice sounded again, "How about this one? How much do you want him to die.....Erzsebet?" he finished, whispering her name almost like an seducing lover whispers in his lover's ear.

Knut gasped loudly in pain and then swore in his native tongue. He now knew what had been done to Nos, and why the assassin had sounded so pleading. He didn't bother asking for mercy or for them to stop. Their captors hadn't even asked any questions yet, well, at least not any questions about sensitive information. He wasn't sure if it was day or night, but whichever it was, if things kept going the way they seemed to be headed, it was about to be one of the longest of his life.

That voice, whether it was speaking gently or loudly cursing in anger or pain, the latter in this case, Erzsebet would always be able to recognize. Knut... she thought, beginning to sweat in anxiety. Life was just getting worse and worse. She struggled to keep her voice steady, but it was more quiet now, the hissing sound it naturally made more evident due to whispering. "I don't want him to die..." she said, shivering slightly as thoughts raced through her mind. Suddenly, something the man had said caught her curiosity. "How do you know my name? You pronounced it perfectly." Erzsebet had been annoyed on several occasions in her life when foreigners could not pronounce her name. The uneasiness in her voice was a clear indication of the fact that her brain was occupied by many things, none pleasant.

Richard paced around in the room, feeling anxious. He had never been in a gunfight before, and he had a feeling that any gunfight involving Reich Freedom Fighters would be short and bloody.

An idea struck him after turning back in the direction of the couch Anna was lying on, 'she's a scientist, isnt she? Maybe she would know of a better way.. a gunfight might be a foregone conclusion.'

Richard, smiling slightly, immediately went over to the Reich Freedom Fighter who had brought Anna into Mathias' bedroom and Damon, feeling pleased with himself for the first time in longer than he could remember.. Constant failure weighed heavily on his mind; one more could mean everyone's death.

"Its my opinion that we need to wake Anna up.. we're in an untenable situation, and even though you guys are as cold as ice, its my opinion that we should save as many in our party as possible. Anna may be able to help create an.. alternate means of self-defense; she's a scientist," Richard said in a bit of a rush, eager to get every word out.

Everything was white, so very white to Anna. There was nothing but the white light. Light was a funny thing holding so many colors at once. Red like the blood that had bled out of her. Blue, the color she knew her lips had turned. Green, like the grass she had lain in the day before her parents murder. Orange, like the sun that had warmed her skin where she cried her heart out on the rocks of foch. Indigo, like the color of her blind eye. Yellow, like the color of her other eye. Violet, a color she never wanted to see again, a color of mourning. They all combined to form the white abyss she was floating in. She had forgotten everything, so weak, so powerless, so utterly exposed that if she didn't remember that her parents murderer only respond to Dallas Corbin, AI, she would be lost forever. The sun called her back, the grass wanted her to come home. She didn't want to feel anything ever again, not love, not pain, not hope, not despair. She wanted to die, for the second time in her life.

There was a sharp pain, and she giggled, her eye focusing for a second. She was in a room? With Richard, Damon, Fox and the AI's assassins? How silly! There was a needle in her arm, with red filled tubing! How exciting! She giggled again, the effort exhausting her weak and pitiful strength. With the the last of her breif interlude of conciousness fleeing her body, she escaped into the white abyss once more.

Richard blinked in surprise then straightened his face impassively before looking back from Anna to Damon and asking leave to look after the scantily clad woman whose mutterings had caught everyone's attention. The Freedom Fighters likely only wanted quiet, and were taking note of the disturbance, but Richard felt the first glimmer of hope that he had felt in a while that he might have actually in some way helped save a person, instead of kill them.

"It looks like she's awoken on her own, unless you say otherwise, ill take her aside and see what she has to say," Richard spoke to Damon, staring into his dark sunglasses as if mesmerized by their power.

Then she passed out again, and Richard sighed in frustration, ill just bet there's something Anna can do to help us out here.

Stirred awake from the shaking voice of a timid man squeaking loudly, Dante's glazed over eyes turned from their stationary position staring at the ceiling toward the opened door, and although all lights were off within the house, he clearly saw in his mind the nervous shaking figure of the son of one of his Elites.....a timid boy who held him in such high esteem, who admired every step that he had ever taken. He almost felt sorry for the pathetic wretch of a man, wasting a good life idolizing a man who he had believed to be infallible, invulnerable, and here he lay in the ice cold water of a tub in a room whose lights have not been turned on for the past ten years wallowing in the misery he had built impenetrable walls around so he would never again be that vulnerable.....that weak.....that pathetic.

"D-D-D-D-Dante.....there's a woman here to see you sir.....she's cold and wet and crying sir.....she says she needs your help sir."

"Did she leave a name?" his voice sounded cold and uncaring, even to himself.

"Yes sir. It's Clara sir."

Pulling himself almost immediately from the iced water, he grabbed a towel which he wrapped around his waist in haste. "I'm coming." The words hung in the silence of the air as pushed past the man and walked out of the room toward the main hall. Lightening flashed, illuminating the complex briefly, enough for the man following quickly behind to see the battle wounds that mangled his flesh as he tried to keep up with Dante. Dante descending in a hurry; he had last seen Clara before his arrest and trial. The fact that she had gained wind of his escape and assumed correctly where to find him only added urgency to the situation.

"Clara?" he called through the darkness at the bottom of the stairs, his voice trying to maintain a coolness despite the curiosity spiking through.

"Dante?" her voice sounded, saddened, whimpering, from the sitting room off to the side of the front door.

Taking a seat aside her, he searched for her hand and took it in his own. "What's wrong Clara?" He felt concern.

"I. I heard you were alive. I assumed you would come back here. Your Empire is breaking apart. They think you're dead. And what's worse, there is an organization that is plotting to destroy all you stand for," she sobbed heavily. "Dante, I can't bare it. They talk of your death. They want you dead. You can't trust anyone Dante; your Elites are even in it! Oh Dante.....I don't want you dead. I lost you too many times already. I love you Dante. Do you see that!? I love you!"

Dante leaned closer, pulling her into him. "Hey hey hey...I'm not goin' anywhere... Don't worry, it'll take more then the collapse of my Empire to take me down."

"You're wrong," her voice darkened with the loud rumbles of the raging storm.

"What?"

"You always had one weakness you fool."

Before he could move, he felt the needle pierce his skin hard, driving itself into his neck. The lightening flashed brilliantly again, followed by a thunderous rumble, his eyes staring into the rage and wrath and anger that were harbored in Clara's eyes. He felt cold as the serum coursed through his veins, and his hands instinctively clutched onto Clara, holding her as his muscles weakened and his world grew darker as he fell into the arms of someone else behind him, someone strong and forceful, militant demeanor.

"I won't...." he mumbled as he lost ability to hold up his own head, which fell forward, resting on his chest.

"Stupid fool," she laughed. "Stupid fucking fool! You have no idea what is happening around."

But he didn't hear the words, they were a faded drone in the background filled with flashes and rumbles. He groaned uncontrollably, feeling weak and nauseous, but it was passing quickly, submerging beneath the surface of the darkness of his mind. He felt foolish, he hadn't notice the men in the room, his feelings had got in the way. He let his guard down; he let himself trust someone. He cared. And now he was losing consciousness with each beat of his heart as the chemical surged with more force toward his brain, shutting down the receptors. And as he lost consciousness, the scream of what could have been his name sounded.....but he couldn't hear it past the darkness that blocked all senses.

He groaned as his stomach wretched himself awake, the medications that induced his sleep wearing off. He felt like he just fell off the top of a building; his body bruised and aching as his head throbbed with a vengeance. The lights beat down on him.....he couldn't take the brightness, it burned his skin, it burned past his skin, past his muscle, past his bone, it burned directly into his soul. He screamed out in rage, his soul burning in the light, his heart racing against the shaking of his body as he tried to open his eyes. Too bright for his preference, he crawled along the floor, searching for an exit he would never find. And with his hand pressed to the impenetrable glass doors that sealed him, he knew without having to see that he was the exhibiting showcase of another, a prisoner sealed in maximum security, a captive betrayed once again.

Leaning back over Erzsebet, The Reich Freedom fighter spoke in nearly perfect Callisdruin, his voice only slightly wavering, "Erzsebet, we've been gathering intel on you since you stepped foot in The Dictatorship. Interesting specimen you are; your involvement with Der Fuhrer has struck our interest. We'd like to know more about this Fuhrer of yours and more about Mathias Bortniansky and a man you may have heard of as Dante. Is it really true Dante is still alive? And about Mathias and Dyszel....what do you have on them? And I'd be honest Miss Erzsebet," he hissed in her native tongue, "we have very persuasive ways of getting you to comply....and your pal Knut is looking rather pale over there. Poor kid is scared shitless. It'd be a shame to kill him so soon."

In the mean time, turning to Nos, a Reich Freedom fighter seized him by his groin and twisted. "MOTHERFUCKER!" Nos's pained voice escaped sharply from his mouth as he collapsed forward, curling into a ball. "What the fuck do you want?" he gasped painfully, feeling slightly ill and unsteady, the pain radiating through his body.

"Tell me what you know about Der Fuhrer Dyszel and Mathias," the cold apathy of The Reich Freedom Fighter's voice slowly drifted through the air, as if it had no care or urgency in the world.

"Fuck you!" Nos spat angerily, tired of their games and his pain, angry that he was captured.

"Worthless bag of shit," slowly spoke one of The Freedom Fighters as he screwed the silencer onto his gun, the sound breaking through the silence. As he finished, he held the gun to Nos's head, "You're not worth our time. Especially if your little friend doesn't start talking soon."

Damon stepped back from the wall, his legs still slightly stiff, but able to carry his weight. "Her consciousness isn't based on our actions. You can give her more blood and medications and hope that her body responds enough to stablize her, but we can't wake her.....that's up to her body to wake her." Moving slowly, his stiffened muscles relaxing, Damon walked over to Mathias's dresser, a familiar gun having been placed on top of hastily.

He picked up the gun and inspected it thoroughly, three shots remaining. He rememebered that day vividly, the rapid gunfire, the many bullets, and the fall of their men. Never before that moment had they failed a mission, but they had organized. The element of using enemies against each other had failed and rather then fighting each other, they helped one another. It should have been an easy mission....they had observed these people well enough to know that they absolutely hated each other.....it should have been an easy mission. But it wasn't......they were wrong. Their intelligence was wrong.

Speaking quietly, more to himself then to anyone else, Damon's voice, apathetic without any emotion sounded, audible to all, but quietly, "You deserve this one Bortniansky.....you did well." Placing the gun back on the dresser, he looked to the other's in the room, taking in every slight movement that they made, any indication as to what was on their minds. Unease...... The men were all uncomfortable, their anxieties growing. It was an internal war and they were starting to second guess whether or not they had choose the correct side, especially now that they were pinned in a bedroom with seemingly no escape and no plan as to how they were going to take out a significant assembled force out to kill them.

Slowly, his eyes planted themselves on each man, moving from one to the other, his voice cold and steady, "You know.....I never felt anything before in my life except defeat. I can't feel anything, but I did feel defeat. It was in the faces of my men a long time ago, just as it is in your faces now. We made a mistake, a wrong move, and as a consequence, our people were slaughtered and we were forced to retreat, back down, run away. We lost many good men, many men I was proud to work with, good men who knew what they were doing. But we cannot dodge bullets; we can die just as any other man dies. My men lost that day.....and I could feel the defeat through the looks in their eyes and the way they carried themselves after that moment. If you want to give up before the fight began, then do so. Give up. Quit. Be defeated. I'm fighting. I learned an important lesson from our failure in the past, I won't repeat those mistakes and I won't run this time. I'd rather die then look at the pathetic looks of defeat on all of your faces.....at least then, I will know I did my best."

Turning his back to his men, he walked over to Mathias's closet and rummaged through the chest of drawers within that contained weapons from all over. Grabbing himself a few guns and extra clips, he took his place back in the shadows of the room, watching the door closely for the slighest form of movement.

The man's use of her own language shocked Erzsebet. There were grammatical and pronunciation errors, of course, but she could understand her captor's speech clearly, which was unheard of for a foreigner speaking Callisdrunian. For a moment, she was too surprised to know what to say.

She was stunned a little bit further by the actual content of the man's words. Erzsebet was somehow sure that they would not hesitate to kill Knut. And it sounded like they already were already brutalizing Nos.

Knut of course, heard every word. He cringed at Nos' shouts of pain. In a way, it was much worse that he couldn't see it. "Don't tell them anything Erzsebet! There's nothing worse than a traitor!" he said as fast as he could to the vampiress. He spoke in their own language, though it did not appear to matter, as the man near Erzsy had spoken it clearly. "You've said so yourself, before."

The Sorvik moroii collected her thoughts just before she spoke, trying to keep her voice steady. "There is probably nothing I could tell you that you don't already know." The natural hiss in her voice was accentuated by her anger and distress, the words seeming to scrape themselves on her long fangs. "I hardly know anything about Dyszel and Mathias, they aren't the type to go around dictating their autobiographies. They don't say much about themselves, especially in the case of Mathias." She was terrified, but also angry. A pang in her stomach also told her that she had the thirst, which didn't help her mood. Of course, she spoke in Callisdrunian, seemingly out of anxiety, but also so as not to make things any easier for her captors than they had to be. "Dyszel is the leader of the Dictatorship and the region, and Mathias is high ranking. But I'm sure you already knew that. As for your question about Dante, you already know whether the rumor is true if you know to ask the question. No matter what I say in answer to it, you will accuse me of lying." Despite the room not being hot, Erzsebet found she was perspiring, yet also shivering slightly. No. I can't break. Not to this. Bastards won't even let us see their faces. What can I do? And why must the thirst come on now of all times?. She had at first ignored Knut's frantic cry at her, but now responded.

"I can't let you die, dear one. At least not if I can help it." She used as much local, Navy and Sorvik clan slang as possible and spoke rapidly. "Besides, haven't got much to tell." Erzsebet tried to think of a worse situation she had been in, but despite her best efforts, no memory of one could come to her. And then, trying to dig up thoughts for encouragement, the opposite occurred. A thought that had been at the back of her mind since she realized she was thirsty suddenly panicked her. How am I to feed? What if they won't let me? What if I lose control? I don't want to become a monster!.

Leaning down to Nos, The Reich Freedom Fighter grabbed Nos's hair, pulling his head back and speaking harshly in his ear. Deadly and cold, the strong masculine voice sounded, "Noskalenaeuroph, I suggest you keep your friend in line. She's being cocky and we don't like cocky people.....especially when the fate of your life, her lover's life, and oh the fate of perhaps her nation lies in her hands. She really needs to learn to hold her tongue and stop with the pretenious cockiness. I suggest you get her to behave or else we'll have to start cutting you apart piece by piece. Sound like a plan?"

In the mean time, another Reich Freedom Fighter brought the butt of his gun down to meet Knut's jaw. "Shut the fuck up pisshead. You don't speak until you're told to speak. Or do you really want us to kill Erzsebet that bad? It's not your life on the line if you act out of order shithead.....it's her life. Speak again especially in that crazy language of yours and I'll blow your balls off, got it?"

The same man whispering to Erzsebet previously leaned down again, "Erszy, you seem to be making enemies fast here. Why not just answer the questions? It doesn't matter what we know or what you think we know, just answer the questions. It'll be much better for you and your friends in the long run if you just comply now instead of trying to be a martyr....they don't get too far here. You'll die in vain and no one will know of anything you did to "honor" anyone or anything when they find your bodies. They'll assumed you starved unless of course, we finish you off with a bullet. Now Erzsebet, are you ready to comply?" the man spoke in her native tongue again, whispering in her ear an almost seductive whisper.

"FUCKING HELL!" Nos yelled, feeling his trigger finger slowly breaking under the weight of a heal; his face was pressed into a dirty floor, breathing in dust, while his nose ran and smeared the snot into the ground, and he could see nothing but darkness behind the blindfold before letting out another cry of pain, "DAMN IT!" he yelled again as he felt the heal coming down on his next finger slowly. "Erzsebet.....please.......just answer their fucking questions! For the fucking Reich, just answer their fucking questions damn it!"

Anna laid there on the couch, Damon's voice drifting in and out of her mind, as she did touch and go's with her concious. "Good men," the voice resounded in her ears and echoed across her mind. She thought she could feel her spulci tingle. Her good eye slid to the side of her head giving veiw of Damon standing in the corner with his weapons. The other men hadn't said anything during his speech about their failure to execute a mission accordingly.

She felt the brevity of her own mission too well, it was pressing down on her like the red marble her families blood was spilled onto. Even in her semi-concious state she felt crushed. Every labored breath was an effort to keep fighting. She felt that if she kept breathing she was, somehow, chipping away at the stone. That with each breath she was choosing to live or die. An inhalation was resistance, the will to live, the will to save foch, the will to avenge her families death; the will to carry out the only thing that mattered any more. With an exhalation, her chest would collapse every so slightly, the microchip nestled so snugly under her left breast would prick her, and the will to fight was replaced with the will to take another breath. Was it worth it to keep breathing? Was it worth it to fight a battle she was going to loose anyway? She couldn't take anymore pain. Even if she was concious she might have reverted to her old ways and cut herself, bleeding just to watch the blood fall. For once in her life she knew that if this was the cost of her succeeding, her sanity, her stability, her not succeeding; maybe she should just die. All the while, while she kept on debating with herself if she was strong enough to live, to survive, the amber amulet, passed down for centuries in her family lay as a cool constant reminder, curiously situated over heart. An actual pressure as opposed to the imagined one she was feeling.

It was then the tremors started. She had been cold for a long time, a long, long time, but now something was wrong. She felt too cold, her body shaking and tremoring. Even making contact with her concious wasn't happening. She felt her self slipping away into shock. Her last thought before succumbing again to the whiteness was Damon's words "using enemies against each other."

Making a small grunt of shock as he felt the impact against his face, Knut slammed into the floor. He struggled for a minute trying to get up, which was difficult with his throbbing jaw and his hands bound. Eventually succeeding, he looked towards where the blow and voice had come from, and mouthed the words "Fuck you" without speaking them. The sensation of blood running down from his injured jaw was incredibly irritating, but there was nothing at all he could do about it. He was frightened of what Erzsebet's reply to the man would be, he knew it made her furious for anyone but family or very old friends to call her by her pet name, and she sometimes had a short fuse.

"You know nothing of honor, you speak of it as if it's something to be given or recieved," Erzsebet whispered. She was terrified, enraged beyond belief and sick with worry and the thirst all at the same time. She spoke in her own language, because in her current state, it was doubtful that she could speak coherent English. "And 'martyr' is not something that exists in our language. You can die honorably or dishonorably. Even if no human knows the circumstances of our deaths, the gods will." Pausing, she caught her breath. I'm really getting thirsty... why now, of all times?. "But fine. I will answer your questions, if Knut and Nos will die if I don't. I know nothing very important anyway." Sighing, she began. "Since you asked so specifically about Dante, last I saw him, he was alive. However, he had been bitten by Charmaine, a vampire of a different breed than myself." Her voice was shaky, but now above a whisper. "You also asked about Der Fuhrer and Mathias," she said, shivering with fear and thirst but also shaking with anger. "Anything specific you'd like to know?"

Just then, she sensed something. A tantalizing scent, iron tinged... I must feed... Erzsebet thought as she recognized it as that of blood. She wanted desperately to lash out, bite the cruel man who taunted her, tear out his throat and feed on him. It was a struggle to fight against that urge now.

OOC:
Pope, I have no Earthly idea what you are doing. The Reich is a region, which is a collective organization of nations, not a specific nation. Second, you cannot play the responses and actions of another character you do not own without their permission. And lastly, our RP is not an advertising board to unrelated threads, and as in related, it must involve The Reich and our war directly to be a related thread.

"I'll fucking kill you," he murmured softly, his closed eyes seeing darkness with his head hung and his hand still pressed upon the cold glass doors. He felt a rage build within him....a rage he had no recollection of experiencing. Opening his eyes to the bright light, he looked up coldly, the rage burning behind the pools of black that dominated his eyes.

He saw her eyes first, before he saw the rest of her body....they were dark, like his, a menacing dark brown that conveyed a sense of control. He took in the rest of her body, a small young girl around the age of five.....six perhaps, but young. She was wearing a white dress that blended into her currently pale skin and contrasted with the bouncing raven black curls that hung down from her head.

She giggled first, an irritating sound that enraged his very soul, a screetching crow caw in the early morning hours stirring him awake. It left an unsetteling feeling within him....an eerie forebearence that seemed to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach. "My stomach...." the wave of nausea resurfaced from the dose of medications still in his system.

"You knew I was here!" the crow cawwed in his ears, beckoning him awake.

"I'll fucking kill you," he murmured, trying to say no more than the necessary, fearing if he spoke too much he would lose control and his body would bring up whatever it was that he brought up during his vomitting sprees.

"Violent man! Violent violent man!" her giggle pierced his ears, driving a stake through his head, piercing and drumming loudly in his mind.

"I'll fucking kill you," he repeated as he sharpened his gaze into her eyes.

Genocide merely laughed, feeling secure, with him behind locked doors. To her, he could never be a threat, his threats held no weight, as he remained locked behind those airtight sealed doors.

"Who are you?" she asked with some slight concern. "Why did you come here?"

Dante narrowed his gaze at this girl, his rage building at the mere sight of this child and his capture that lead to his restraint behind these doors. Restraint.....he felt an intense vaguely familiar rage burn within him, the anger rising to an unsurmountable level.

Standing up, bringing himself off his knees where he was at Genocide's level, he rose above her, towering over her behind the glass doors. He said nothing but stared down at her sharply before turning his back to her and moving to a corner of the room where he leaned against the wall and stared coldly at her from a distance....the imprint of his hand remaining on the door.

Genocide stared in disbelief. This man was a stranger to her and yet despite the rage she saw burn within him, he had simply turned away. He had turned away in a moment, and it was as if it were all gone.

Baffled by this man's unfamiliar responses, she backed away slowly, staring at him and deciding that perhaps it was better to interrogate the second man with them for the moment.

"Wakie wakie" she beckoned the unconscious man from his sleep, giggling as she did so, despite the look in the other man's eyes that had stared down on her causing her to feel fear for once. She smiled at the thought that these men were sealed behind impenetrable walls, her father had built it so. And even though she would kill the man if she had met him, she valued the brilliance of his mind and how he was capable of creating an entire arsenal that could allude The Red Queen of The Reich.

Perry groaned as he awoke, struggling to get to his knees, feeling unsteady from the rifle that struck him unconscious earlier. "Who's there?" his panicked voice quivered, the blindly bright light keeping him from opening and focusing his eyes on the voice.

Genocide laughed again as she spoke to Perry again, "Tell me why you're here and who the hell you are or I'll kill your friend," her childish voice sounded, giggling in her obvious joy of being in control of a bunch of grown men.

Forcing his eyes to adjust to the bright light, Perry slowly made out the frame of a young girl standing just outside his door. "Don't kill him," Perry pleaded at the thought that they had also captured Dante and it was his fault that Dante was in the hands of these people who obviously wanted to hurt them.

"Then answer our questions," Genocide smiled, pleased even more that she had this man instantly wrapped around her little pinky. "Who are you and why are you here?"

Nervous, Perry took a deep breath, "My name is Perry from Whitecastle. I'm here because this was supposed to be the complex of the greatest man we've ever known," he answered truthfully, afraid to say anything of Dante's identity.

"Stupid boy! I'm the greatest force The Reich had ever seen!" Genocide laughed, "Even my pathetic father couldn't amount to what I've become and have accomplished!"

"Your father? Who the hell was your father?" Perry asked, suddenly concerned at the inherent nature of this girl.

"That pathetic wreck Dante. Oh you all thought he was so great! What fools!" she laughed, a childish laughter, almost innocent, but tainted with a hint of malice that stemmed from an internal conflict she appeared to be faced with.

Dante..... Perry's mind raced at the sound of his name. He had heard rumors of Dante fathering a child, he had known of the declaration of war by Genocide, but to place the face of the girl to face of his admired.....they were two in the same.....his blood.

"Oh shit," he murmured silently, but the look in his eyes had said it all. Genocide did not need to know anymore before she stepped back, her mouth agape.

"NO!" he screamed, but his screams where silenced suddenly as Genocide stepped away.....the sound only echoing within the chambers of his glass cell.

Genocide pressed herself against the unoccupied glass walls of another cell, breathing heavier with her mind racing with one sole thought. He knew something...... She felt jittery, wanting to run around and curl up with her teddy beneath her blankets both at the same time. She kept walking down the corridor, knowing she was going to have to pass that man's cell again, and then.....it would be the confrontation. She needed that information off of him....perhaps he was a high General, one of the four, one of the Elites, a good friend......maybe he knew something she had not known.

She stopped before the most guarded cells, Mathias on side and this unknown man on the other. Mathias had been awoken to talk to next, since his former uncooperation. But she was more intrigued with the knowledge that this new man might possess that she had disregarded the fact that she should be interrogating Mathias at that moment.

Peeling her eyes from the direction toward the man's cell, she looked into Mathias's cell. He lay limply on the floor, wasted, shivering and shaking tremendously. He looked ill and pail, as if his very life was being drained from him with each molecule of carbon dioxide exiting his body, as if carbon dioxide carried the very essence of life, and was needed to remain in his body.

He looked up at her, a look of fatigue and exhaustion begging her for her to finish his life and cease the continuous game she was playing with him. But the lure of the man in the cell behind her called strongly to her, forcing her to turn toward him instead. She looked into the cell, the man was standing with his back pressed against the wall still, his arms crossed, eyes closed. He was a powerful man, she could see this by the ease of his stance, but he was guarded too with his crossed arms in front of his chest.

"What the fuck do you want again," he asked her coldly and demanding without opening his eyes or lifting his head in acknowledgement.

She giggled, forced out mostly by habit, and painted a false smile onto her face....if that man could sense fear, she would have to do her best to mask the ever rising fear of her own. "Your friend Perry tells me some interesting things," she said with a laugh, looking for any sign of recognition. Caw....caw.....

No response.

"What is your name?" she asked again, more serious this time, curious and wanting to just know the answer. Caw....caw....

No response.

"Tell me! I just want to know you name!" she screeched, the voice piercing Dante's ears....that annoying cawing, what the hell was it? It was beyond a crow, beyond, yet similar.....something much more menacing.

No response.

"Perry tells me that he idolizes the former leader Dante! Like he was some kind of deity!" she laughed loudly. "But Dante was such a stupid head! That's why he's dead and I'm taking over his empire!" Caw....caw....

No response.

Behind Genocide, the faint thudding of a fist against glass sounded as Mathias struggled weakily to his knees. He had merely caught the faint glimpse of the man standing in the corner, but he knew instantly that face and those dark malicious eyes, filled with rage and malice.....a hallmark to the infamous Dante.

Genocide merely laughed, a cawing screech that pierced Dante's ears. "Enough Bortniansky.....you'll die soon enough," she giggled again knowing it was Mathias's only wish.....that his suffering would just end......that his pain would no longer be prolonged.

"Genocide.......should we shoot him?" a nearby gaurd asked, distain spreading across his face as he looked at the pathetic wreck of Mathias who was beginning to cough again, the blood seeping into his lungs, coming up in the phlegm he coughed and spat out.

Genocide...... The name mingled with the screeching laughter that the little girl let out at Mathias's request. That screech.....it was not a crow.....no, it was a raven.....a raven....the locks of raven black hair, the depths of the darkness of her menacing eyes. A raven....

The rush of anger overcame Dante, the suppressed rage, it all augmenting and surmounting his level of control. His eyes snapped open as Genocide laughed, slowly turning to face him once again. And as she was giggling and laughing, in her carefree secure world, he moved swiftly almost without motion to the glass doors. The rage burned, the anger, the fury. RELEASE, it cried!

Genocide turned at that moment to face him, his fist connecting with the impenetrable glass doors, the fear surfacing in Genocide's eyes as she looked into the depths and burning inferno of hell within that man's eyes, letting out a blood hurtling scream of fear that mingled with the loud thud and crunch of Dante's hand striking the impenetrable glass, and as she watched his knuckles split on the hard surface, the skin giving away from their protective coating over the bones, the blood spilling, splattering onto the glass doors, she let out a slight whimper.

They looked into each others eyes one last time before a group of men instantaneously surrounded Genocide and Dante turned his back, retreating to his corner, with his now broken and bleeding knuckles of the hand that had pressed against the glass just moments earlier.

"Move in, now. They are hiding; keep aware of any movement. Remember, we are heading for Code Six, The Leader. Three One and some others are with him, take them out if they resist as well," the words echoed inside Damon's head.

He closed his eyes at the moment, concentrating behind his darkened reflective shades. They were nearing, coming closer, as he held his aim at the doorway. He knew the others would support him and if not, at least Three One definately would especially if the others or Richard and Anna would turn on him. He knew they were approaching, knew they were heading up the stairs and down the corridors that very moment.

Another gunshot, loud and resonating, sounded throughout the mansion. Another Reich member dead. Even Damon did not threaten to expose the organization as much as they have in two single shots. They were risking everything just to kill him. It was bold, possibly a lure to get him out of hiding so that they could kill him quickly and disappear into the silence of their lives again. But he suspected that these men were not happy with their silence lives; these men wanted power, vengence, control. The kink in the organization.....the small pebble creating an escalading ripple, the ripple over flowing the lake, the water causing a rift, the rift dividing one side from the next. Perhaps it was augmenting, perhaps it was sudden....Damon knew though that no matter how it started, that it was what it was and was going to be a situation in which the very present was the most important time to live in.

Standing up, Damon stretched, his muscles seemed to be more fluid now, he seemed to be able to move them without stiffness so much anymore. If The Reich Freedom Fighters wanted a fight, he would give them it.

"Stay here," Damon ordered coldly, the lack of emotion and feeling in his voice, the sound of ice on a frigid subzero winter night. He gave no indication as to what his plans were, and a few of the others wondered what it was he planned to do. Damon was the least predictable of The Reich Freedom Fighters, but also oddly the most dependable. Despite his disappearence, the men felt confident and secure, the anxiety lifting slightly at the mere thought that Damon might have a plan to defeat these men and was leaving not to abandon them but to execute it.

Grabbing Erzsebet by her hair, the man croutched next to her began in her language, cold and ruthless, "Gods don't exist. It's just man on this rot of a place. Don't kid yourself. Now, you were in Konigsreich der Mathias, tell me, is it true about his labratory. And Der Fuhrer, where is she now? Has she contacted you? You better answer the questions straight, no more of your side cocky comments, it's getting irritating," he threatened in her ear, a seductive whisper almost despite the coldness of his words.

In the mean time, Nos felt a shoe connect with his rib, cracking it in brute force. He groaned and clenched his jaw, but said nothing more. Broken ribs he could deal with, but he feared most of all what they had next planned to do to him.

In the language of The Original Reich, the Freedom Fighter holding Noskalenaeuroph began.....an unusual and unfamiliar cursing, brute cold harshly emphasized accents....a language brutal and cutting , "Assassin, where is Der Fuhrer Dyszel and Dante? Don't answer and Erzsebet will die. I'm not in the mood for games," he threatened menacingly.

"Kill her then. Kill her. Didn't she tell you.....she hates my fucking guts! Ask her about it.....the fights just before you captured us....my blade against her throat....ask her, she'll tell you!" he cursed back, in the same odd unfamiliar language.....a language that seemed unnatural and foreign coming from his mouth. And the fact that these men knew the language and that he spoke it did not settle well with him, creating an uneasy shudder up his back.

Richard casually hefted his firearm, it had been too long since he had visited the gun ranges in Adyndril. The last place he wanted to practice was in a real firefight against real Reich Freedom Fighters. He checked the clip and found it full before returning the weapon to its place in the back of his pants.

He quickly assessed the situation and their prisoners, 'We have Destiny tied up and ready to move if the situation arises, and Anna is still lying on the couch half dead, and half naked as well.. she wont survive the elements long if we have to make a hasty escape.'

The nervousness he felt must've been picked up by the RFF's who had accompanied them into Mathias' bedroom, because one of them looked at him with a slight hue of a condescension to his face before staring again straight ahead at the door. His ears looked to be focused almost completely in the direction of Mathias' door and the sounds coming from outside of it.

Richard walked over to the large couch that held Anna on one end and a sitting Destiny at the other, and upended the wide coffee table to provide cover for him and the two women. The butterflies in his stomach were flapping their wings like mad, was this finally going to be his end? He looked inward and realized again that he was ready to die.. everyone died, it was only a question of how, where, and why. Death by a single gunshot from a RFF would certainly be better than waiting out his destiny to old age.

More sounds came from the hallway. Richard didnt hear any gunfire, but a shuffling sound wound its way to his ears, and he could only guess at what it could be while readying himself for whatever would come.. be it death, or an extention to his meager life. The other RFF stood impassively against the non-verbal onslaught of their surroundings.

Moving to the door from behind Richard, one of The Reich Freedom Fighters followed in persuit of Damon. He did not look nor speak to any of the others as he walked out of the door, and the others looked to each other in perplexion, as if it was not like this man to act on his own.

"Three One, should we follow him?"

"I don't think we should move from this room. Strategically speaking, they need to move into this room in small numbers to kills us, which gives us the upper advantage of not being surrounded and flanked. But I'm not sure what explosives they have on them, and we don't want to be pinned in a corner like a sitting duck if they drop something in on us. Maybe Damon went to check our status." Turning to Richard, "Yo, you....Richard.....do you know any other ways to get in or out of here?"


In the mean time, Damon stood with his back against the corridor wall, leaning back almost arrogantly, if he could be arrogant without striking fear into someone. Only three Reich Freedom Fighters had come down the corridor toward Mathias's bedroom and had stopped at the immediate sight of Code Six standing armed, yet not poised to fire, alone and unprotected against the wall....seemingly waiting for them. At the sight of them, he stood up straight and stepped forward a step before stopping and looking to each of them slowly.

"Are you loyal to The Organization?" he asked coldly, ice in the frigid winter night.

Unsure and nervous, the men looked to one another before responding, their hands tightening on their guns aimed at Code Six, fingers slightly tensing in their nervousness. "Yes...." they hesitated, holding their guns up closer to their faces for a better aim and shot.

"Then do what you must," he said simply, bending down to place his weapon slowly on the ground and standing back up to look them in the eyes behind the reflective black mask of his identity.

"What?" they asked in disbelief, amazed that Code Six had just put down his weapon, that the greatest of their kind, the best, the strongest, the fastest, the smartest had just practically surrendered to them.

"You were sworn to protect The Organization. Do what you must," the ice cut through the air.....a shattering icicle and midwinter's day.

"I can't," one said with a shaking voice. "I just can't.....you ripped that man's face off....I can't...."

Looking to each other, the other two stared questionably at another, unsure if they should shoot him and Code Six. But something in themselves prevented them from actin, and they each searched the demeanor of the other to see if he was thinking the same thing....if he too wanted Code Six to live.....if he too was too terrified to actually be the one to put a bullet in Code Six.....did they want that looming over their heads? 'I was the one who killed Code Six....the greatest Freedom Fighter recorded in the history of The Organization.' Did they want to face the entire Organization, even those agents in other nations, with the knowledge that he was responsible for Code Six's death? And it must have been resolved in that moment, for the both in silent confirmation of thought, lowered their weapons, resolving that they would not be the ones to finish Code Six.

"Just answer me this Code Six.....why? Why all of this?"

"This was not the product of my actions. I had indeed risked all we stood for. I'm not responsible for this division of power however. Nine Three had brought about the division of power. I had begun the conversion of an outsider from what was at the time a new nation....it was their national leader and I felt it would benefit us to have an Agent in his position. I did forget my own mortality though and that did potentially jeapordize all we stood for. Nine Three had over reacted though and ordered my death without my information....he had always feared me since his admission to The Organization and wanted my position since. This is not a product of my actions....it's a product of jealously and the inability to raise your own position within our own ranks. Don't be deceived by their lies. I've done what I've done.....most of what you have heard was probably true, but I do intend on ending my life when I complete my mission. What others have forgot is that I'm the only one with the knowledge to get what we need. And this rift is fear of me, not jeapordizing our secrecy. Supporting anyone but me is risking our exposure....and by the way, what's with the damn shotguns? Are you people fucking crazy?"

"That's the others, the ones running this expedition."

"Figures," Damon shook his head. After a brief moment's pause of awkward silence, he ordered with his apathetic voice, cold and cutting, emtionless without empathy or compassion, "take off your glasses."

Following his orders, they removed their glasses, trusting their old leader once again. Damon merely looked into the depths of each of their eyes, not removing his glasses in the process. "Join my side if you trust me. Take a stand with me if you believe what I say. If not, feel free to kill me. But if you question the others, you need to stay loyal to The Organization. The others with me have and they are secure at this moment. I can offer you the protection I offer them. I cannot guarentee your lives, but I can guarentee you my protection so long as I live."

There was another moment's hesitation as they looked from one to the other and confirmed what they felt, nodding to Damon that they would support him to the very end.

Damon nodded in confirmation. "Let's go," he said turning toward Mathias's bedroom, when his body wrenched backward violently, slamming into the wall he was standing against just moments ago.

"Don't move Six....Don't move. I won't let you get us all killed. Don't fucking move Six....DON'T FUCKING MOVE," The Reich Freedom Fighter from Mathias's room pressed in on him, holding his gun level with Damon's head. "You fuckers are shit! Don't listen to his bullshit," he spat, turning his gun from one to another and moving it back to Damon, who stood against the wall unmoving, his demeanor overpowering and ominious despite having just been shot.

Using his good arm, he grabbed the gun of the Freedom Fighter who had just shot him and bent his arm inward, pulling the man's finger against the trigger. The shot fired, sending the man to his knees gasping. Kicking the man in the ribs, Damon sent him onto his back, gasping and clutching his abdomen in pain.

"Fucker," he winced, trying to find his gun to shoot Damon again, but that did not happen, as the last thing he saw was the heel of shoe closing in on his skull, while Damon's foot came down hard on the man's skull, shattering the sunglasses that covered the man's eyes.

Stepping back from the man, Damon merely turned and headed back toward Mathias's bedroom. "Follow me if you want," Damon's cold voice sounded again. Stopping before the door, "I'm coming in," was all he said, before stepping back into the room, awaiting the barrage of armed weapons and misfires that he assumed he would face.

"Im sorry to say, but no. I dont. This is the first time ive been in Mathias' bedroom, or even down this wing; unless im in another part of the mansion, im blind.. though im sure the wily old man made at least one escape route out of here. Your collective expertise would do far more in finding a pathway out than my own," Richard said emotionlessly.. no need beating around the bush when he truly just did not know.

After some time, Richard heard the poigniant report of a bullet being discharged and he felt a bit of a lump rising up in his throat at the thought of Damon lying there.. dead.. exposed. His hackles rose in anticipation.

Mere minutes later, the door creaked open; Richard lifted his gun in a hurry, aim slightly shaking as he pointed the firearm at whatever was about to enter.. he remembered again that he hadn't killed anyone intentionally before in his life and whimpered slightly at the prospect of a tossed gunfight. At the sight of Damon's head entering the room, everyone around him breathed a small, albeit noticeable collective sigh of relief and Richard felt his heart lift in a bit of a measure of happiness.

He couldnt lower his gun though, as other obvious Freedom Fighters walked in behind Damon. He kept his firearm hoisted at the one closest to him and waited for any sign of what was going on.

Rushing in behind Damon, the others slammed shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief, feeling like rebels hiding behind a house from the police after being caught stealing.

"Shit....fuck...." they seemed to simultaneously curse in exhaustion, feeling worn thin from their exertion.

Damon stood staring and taking in everyone's responses slowly, before bringing his good arm to his chest. He removed his hand, noticing the brillant red running between his fingers and down his hand. He could not feel the pain, but he did take notice of a slightly blurred vision and swaying that was indicative of blood loss. Turning away, he turned toward the direction of an open door of the bathroom. A sink stood not far, and he turned on the water and clogged the hole before using his good arm to hold steadily onto the sink, feeling as if he were swaying.

"He's been shot," said one of the newest additions to Damon's force. "It's pretty bad I think. I don't know, Code Six doesn't respond to pain the way we do," he said to Richard, the closet of their group toward him. "Think we should do anything?" he asked concerned, unsure of actually what to do in this event.....his experiences had never included whether or not to help one of their own kind.

"Ehhhh.. fuck. He was shot in the chest, there's not much we can do," Richard said in a disappointed half panic while rushing over to Damon in the bathroom, who had just turned the sink on.

He arrived just in time to see Damon trying his best to stay on his feet. Damon wasn't unconscious, so he asked him, "would it be alright if you lied down on the couch for me to cauterize your wound with my knife and stop whatever flow of blood is left from that lifesaving procedure by compressing it with a towel wrap?"

Damon shook his head no, so there wasn't much more for Richard to do.. but his estimation of the man dropped.. he thought it was pathetic to let that much blood fall out of your body with too much pride to ask for help. He just stood by and waited for the man to pass out so he could get to work.. it was a process that seemed like it would happen, no matter what Damon did to try and stop it himself.

Lifting his arm from the stability of the sink, he reached for a towel haning from a ornate bar next to the sink, removing it and plunging it into the cold water. As it soaked, he ripped open his shirt, observing the bullet wound quickly to assess the danger of his situation. He had hit him directly, just as he turned to face his shooter, but a little off to the right to have just bypassed his heart. Grabbing the cold towel, he squeezed some of the water out of it and placed it onto the wound....the coldness should constrict some of the vessels in the area, decreasing the flow of blood, even if just slightly.

Stumbling over to the bathtub, his knees grew weak as he sat down, pressing his back against the outer wall of the tub.

"Mathias is an honorable man. Don't bloody up his room. At least blood cleans off easier on tiles," he said apathetically.

"Keep guard of that damn door. They're heading this way slowly....don't let them get in here off guard. And get me more towels and one of his bottles of alcohol.....better yet, get one of those damn doctors you guys have been using to patch up everybody else," he demanded coldly, breathing heavier and more strained.

"Aye Damon," Richard said fearlessly, but inside he had no idea how he was going to find a doctor when there were enemy Freedom Fighters swarming all over the mansion.. that much would have to wait.. unless one of the others in their party had an idea.

Richard ran out of the bathroom grabbing two bottle of high content liquor from a table across the room, breaking sifter glasses and toppling shaker in the process.

He ran over to a nearby Freedom Fighter and addressed him with a hint of impatience entering his voice, "Damon is badly wounded, he requests more towels and a doctor.. if one can be found. Does anyone here have more than my own basic knowledge of first aid? I could use any help I can get my hands on.." then Richard spoke to himself as he rushed around the room, looking for supplies offhandedly, "and the towels.. hopefully I can find more of those in the bathroom, this bedroom is too huge to go searching everywhere."

He gave up temporarily on the towels and rushed into the bathroom with the two large bottles of alcohol in his hands, and two other Freedom Fighters just behind him.. one of them was one of the new additions to the party. He handed the bottles to Damon before searching the vicinity for any towels, "I must apologize Damon, it seems like only you can convert those other Freedom Fighters to the side of truth, and without a whole army, there's just no way we can get a doctor from within the mansion. I brought your booze, and ill find you those towels."

Erzsebet grunted as she felt her hair jerked suddenly. "I don't know where Der Fuhrer is," she pleaded. "And is what true about Mathias's laboratory?" Her breathing grew more rapid and frantic. The Reich Freedom Fighter may or may not have noticed, but her blindfold was becoming soaked. A teardrop spashed on the floor, and then another. It might have appeared that the Reich Freedom Fighter's first words had not made an impact, but they had. "You say there are no gods, but when you die you'll find yourself lying before Ithtyr for this, and I'll be there for my betrayal, and she'll subject us both to agony a hundred score worse than anything that any person living has ever imagined." There was not a trace of defiance in her voice. No, hers was a voice of despair as she collapsed against the Reich Freedom Fighter, not caring at the pain the tug on her hair caused. Though there was also... fear... not just of her captors... and that was when she caught the scent of the blood again, and her thirst for it leapt out, demanding that she feed. And she screamed, a bone chilling sound. [OOC: the closest thing to compare would be the Nazgul shriek from Lord of the rings]. As she did so, she lunged herself towards the intoxicating scent of nourishment.

Seething with rage at these cruel excuses for human beings, Knut remained silent. He had gone over every possible action he could take in his head, and all the scenarios ended the same dismal way. There was nothing he could do, no way to resist that wouldn't get them all killed, probably in some horribly brutal fashion. It pained him dearly to hear what they were doing to her, using his life as a bargaining chip to make her talk, and a part of him wished that Erzsebet would simply refuse to talk and let them kill him, but he knew that if positions were reversed, he would do the same. He heard one of the men and Nos speaking in a harsh sounding, unfamiliar language. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell what they were saying. Just then, there was the unmistakable sound, that though rarely heard, all Callisdrunians knew of, and knew what it meant. And he realized that he was bleeding. Oh fuck he thought as he tried (awkwardly) to jump away from where Erzsebet, who had lost control of her urges, was. Knut ended up falling flat on his face in what would have been a very embarrassing manner if the situation hadn't precluded all thoughts of such.

Anna had floated in and out of conciousness, once again. This time when she hit the surface she was functional, and awake. A table had been placed in front of the couch, and a woman was sitting next to her, who she was Anna didn't have a clue, she vaguely looked like Destiny. Richard was running back and forth from the bathroom a bottle of alcohol- similar to that of 151 in foch- and towels to whoever its occupants were. There were other men as well, standing like a confused flock of birds, milling around unsure of what to do.

She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, but no words would come out. She was so tired, so, so tired. Where was Fox? She could smell blood, and the deeper ominous scent of death and its impending quality. She inhaled deeper and immediately her stomach kicked, and before she could turn away she vomited onto the woman next to her and passed out again.

The gunshot had done much more significant damage then Damon would give it credit for. Without the element of pain, Damon could not feel the extent of damage the bullet had caused and had to soley rely on body malfunctions to determine the severity of his rapid declining condition.

He could probably still stand, albeit shakely, but had resolved on remaining just where he was on the stability of the black tiled floor of the bathroom. Taking the bottle of liquor that Richard had brought him, he opened the top and took a swig......figuring if he was going to die, he might as well have his last drink.

Three One stepped forward suddenly, grabbing one of the newest additions to their group and pulling him with excessive force toward the bathroom. Once inside, he ordered Richard out so that it was just Damon, the new man, and himself within the room, where they closed the door and locked it. He knew he would have to work quickly and wanted few disturbances or spectators.

Searching through the cabinets of the bathroom, Three One retrieved a pair of tweezers, cotton swabs, Q-tips, gauze, rubbing alcohol, a rather sharp clean knife that Three One had kept on him in case of emergencies, and a few random other items. Laying Damon, who was growing weaker by the minute, onto his back, he swabbed the skin quickly with the Isopropyl alcohol before quickly cutting into Damon's chest. He cut deep and swiftly, the blood flowing heavily from the freshly opened skin. Locating the bullet, where he had anticipated it would be, he used to tweezers to pry it lose from it's lodged in position before pulling it out and quickly working to seal the wound as fast as possible to avoid any more massive blood loss.

During the procedure, Damon had merely stared at the ceiling behind his reflective shades, not feeling much at all.....as if he were on a natural morphine high, without all the psychological effects that tend to accompany it.

Just as Three One finished the procedure and had sealed and covered Damon's wounds, dressing them properly, a skill he had learned from his father, he heard the sound of another nearby gunshot. "Damn it," his cold voice sounded as he stood up quickly and returned to the rest of the men within the bedroom.

"We could really use a fucking miracle now," he breathed heavily, looking at the discouraged faces of the men who had took a peek inside the bathroom to see a blood puddle surrounding the unmoving body of Code Six laying on the floor, looking as if Three One had just murdered the man. "Forget about him," he ordered, as he retrieved his silenced weapon and moved toward the door. If they were to come through that door now, he would take as many as he could, even if that meant taking the bullets designed for the rest of their group.

Der Fuhrer had watched silently from the distance, Mathias's home being invaded by more Reich Freedom Fighters then she could count at the time. It was almost dark....she would maintain the element of stealth in the darkness and be able to slip right past their stationary positions to get into the mansion.

Walking past one of the stationary Freedom Fighters slowly, her bare feet walking over the rubble that once composed a proud, beautiful, floruishing city, she worked her way along the left wall to Mathias's complex. Knowing the enterences well enough, C9 following slowly and closely but far away enough to not be seen together, Der Fuhrer entered the grounds of the complex, moving directly toward the back of the mansion, planning to enter from the least common enterence of the mansion.

Moving in the shadows, Der Fuhrer managed to cross across the grounds without being seen. She pressed her back against the wall of the mansion, the door was just five feet from her. Shuffling slowly, she pressed her back against the wall, hearing a soft click. Pushing to her left, the door slid open, muffled by the echo of a gunshot within the mansion. Motioning for C9, who ran quickly across the grounds, the both slid into the mansion, sealing their enterence.

"Red Queen," Der Fuhrer whispered.

When no response had ensued, she assumed the worst.

"Red Queen Reboot," she ordered.

Almost instantly, a faint hum kicked into, the a generic woman's voice sounding throughout the mansion. "Red Queen reboot initiated. Completion estimated within ten to fifteen minutes." An ominious warning to anyone who could hear. Looking to C9, Der Fuhrer sensed the trouble within the mansion.

"Find cover. Stay there until The Red Queen has come back. Do not move unless someone has found you. If found, try to escape. I am going to find Mathias and whoever else may still be alive. Do not be seen C9. And do not speak if you are captured," she demanding in the same cold cutting voice of The Reich Freedom Fighters, but with a voice of a more authorative figure....the voice of a leader.....of someone who would never surrender.

One second, Richard was helping Freedom Fighters save their leader because they asked him too; the next, he found himself standing outside of a locked door. He sighed with impatience and hoped that if worst came to worst, Damon would remember to cauterize the wound. He somehow had avoided getting any blood on him, and for that he was thankful.. Feeling incredibly tired from all the ordeal of the day, Richard wandered aimlessly to a nearby chair and plopped down, pulling out his handgun and checking the slide to make sure it was clear and loaded. He unsaftied the weapon and sat it on his lap, staring ahead towards the only entrance to the room that he knew of.

He spoke in a dazed voice, eyes still fixed ahead, addressing whoever might be listening, "Damon should be OK.. I wonder.... if there is another way into the room, we need to know of it before the enemy learns of it. They'll know that a frontal assault will be a bloodbath, but a flank by using a secret entrance to the room? That worries me."

After finishing this thought, he casually turned his head towards a nearby Freedom Fighter and smiled.. a sickly thing without mirth reaching his eyes.

He straightened his face and turned to again stare at the door impassively, "we might want to ensure our safety and escape before they assure our deaths and the end of our mission to right the wrongs done by your new leader."

And so time wore on, and he sat facing the door.. preparing to shoot first and ask questions later. If that knob moved a millimeter, he was going to pepper the door with as much lead as he had as quickly as he could.. would be easier killing a man if he didnt have to see their eyes. For this, he mentally embraced the Freedom Fighters and their strange habit of wearing sunglasses.

Pressing her back against the solid surface of the cold carved walls, Der Fuhrer peered around the corner, the dimmed lights decreasing optimum visibility to anyone who was unfamiliar with working in darkness.....to her, she felt like she were at home in the darkness. Shrouded by the depth of the darkness and the knowledge of the mysterious corridors and tangles, Der Fuhrer was confident that she had the upper hand.

Something disturbed her though.....something dark and meddling, taking away her feeling of ease within the familiar building of her own nation, of her own high General, of her own best friend. It was when she heard the old familiar click of the gun did she understand the feeling of darkness.

"Der Fuhrer Dyszel.....I'm quite impressed by you even now. Escaping a central location and managing to get all the way back here. Impressive. I heard about your escapade in Surukai....quite the fighter. You should've anticipated that we would be on alert for you. Did you really think we were that stupid? Did you really believe that we were here just for that bastard Code Six? As soon as we found out you escaped, we decided to plan for your arrival. Those fools still think we're hunting them down. But I think we've got all we need right now," sneered a dark cold voice that composed of The Reich Freedom Fighters.

Not responding, Der Fuhrer turned to face her capter, steadily irrate at their ability to counter and predict every move before it had happened. They knew she would be here before she even got here....there was no way one of their own agents could get here faster than her, so how was it these people constantly knew what was about to happen just moments before or right after it had happened? Could they predict a suicide? Could they anticipate a stroke or sudden cardiac arrest? Could they dodge a bullet just recently fired?

"I didn't say move," he snarled angerily, the dark reflective shades covering the eyes, mirroring her own now pale flesh behind the reflective shades on her own face.

"You also never said not to move. And so long as you are within my nation, you will not be making any orders. If you have a problem with that, then kill me. Do not waste my time with your pathetic threats," she countered, matching the distinguished coldness that hallmarked their voices, her glare cutting diamonds behind the impenetrable darkness that hid her eyes.

Two Freedom Fighters joined his side, aiming their guns at her, keeping a close eye on her every move. Whipping her rifle around abruptly, one of The Reich Freedom Fighters met her rifle with a shot from his gun; his finger hastily pulling the trigger out of fright, startled by the speed in which she had spontaneously reacted.

His body landed in a heap on the ground as the bullet ricocheted off the butt of her rifle, piercing his skull in the matter of a second.

"Do not waste my time," Der Fuhrer repeated, cold in manner and increasingly impatient. "I suppose they cannot dodge bullets," she grinned to herself, satisfied to answer at least one of her questions.

Unflinching, the man sized up Der Fuhrer's capiabilities. No one had mentioned the extent of her abilities.....it would be unwise to hastily judge her at this moment.

"I'll tell you what.....you get to the others and bring me Code Six and give me some information and I'll drop this game against your city. We'll pull out and we'll give you a grace period. Sound good?"

Slinging her rifle onto her back, she contemplated the extent of what it was this man had propositioned. "I need to know why you want this Code Six and how I will know what he looks like. More importantly, this grace period you talk about, I need to know how long you are giving us and grace from exactly what. Lastly, I need to know that your word accounts for anything. For I all know, you are a deceitful bag of shit," she finished, crossing her arms while straightening her stance.

Hesitating momentarily, he ran through a list of reasons suitable enough to try to convince Der Fuhrer that their word could be trusted. Nothing came to mind though and he realized that the word of a Reich Freedom Fighter did not exist beyond their own organization. "They are in the master bedroom. Just ask for Code Six.....they're protecting him. And we'll give you anywhere from six weeks to six months. I can't convince you that you'll have to believe me, but if you don't we have C9 in our hands and we're just going to kill her if you don't comply," his cold voice resummed, trying to gain the upper foot over the situation.

"I will go to Mathias's bedroom and find out for myself what precisely is happening here. If you do not hold up to your word, I will not hold up to mine. Call your men off. I do not want to be shot at before I get there," Der Fuhrer ordered coldly, her authoritative side taking over.

"Will do Fuhrer. Good luck."

"Keep your luck to yourself," she retorted, turning her back and walking toward the main staircase that lead up to the second level left and right wings.

Stopping outside of Mathias's bedroom, she listened closely. Slight movement and a few periodic murmured conversations could be heard and from the sound of it, there was at least a half a dozen to a dozen people within the room. With her hand on the door knob, she slowly turned it, giving warning to the present company as to not take them by surprise, or so she had hoped not to.

Richard contined staring at the door impassively.. what was his life worth? He had felt love, compassion, caring... all in the past. Most recently, he had killed those he loved by just not being good enough, by not taking action when an action could have been taken. He should have committed suicide by RFF when Damon captured C9 and him.

He mentally ran his mind over all the faces in the room, and within the bathroom.. several Reich Freedom Fighters, Anna, Destiny, that Fox character, and him.. all up against an army of silent assassins.

As he was running through his list of fellows, the door knob suddenly creaked.. twisting slowly in infinite agony for Richard. This was it, a bloodbath was about to ensue. Richard suddenly felt very vulnerable, sitting there in eyesight of the door.. when any good fighter would be hidden amongst and behind the many furnishings of the room.

His heart jumped into his throat as he raised his gun and fired.. not one, but 10 shots out of his extended clip into the door near the knob. His aim wasnt the best, but they all struck with force into the door.... and went no further.. this wasnt a door that simple 9 milimeter bullets would penetrate.

Anna heard gunfire and sat up, surveying her surroundings. She had been brutally jolted awake by the noise and even now her world went backside up as she struggled to stabilize herself and combat the feeling of nausea. She looked at Destiny, who was sitting there staring into space, covered in Anna's vomit.

Anna didn't know what to do, but she knew that sitting her wasn't a good idea. Standing up she went to search for the origin of the shots, hoping to find Damon or Richard. She tried to move when Destiny reached out and stopped her in an iron grip. "Sit the fuck down," she commanded. "You aren't going anywhere, I don't know whats going on, you're in your underwear, and I'm covered in your throwup. You move and I'll kill you. Stay."

Anna's eyes went wide as she sat down, Destiny was scarily detached. But even in her detachment, she was right. Anna was in her underwear, and there wasn't much she could do anyway, she didn't have a weapon, or a computer. Sp she sat. Woodenly she said "Ok."

Destiny shrugged, "You still need more blood to function anyway. You're not well enough to move yet."

Anna just nodded.

After only one fortnight's stay after parachuting outside of Stadt, the soldiers of Papel Batallion R, Company V were in a sorry state. They grouped around a pile of charcoal making feeble attempts to cook frozen dinners they were issued. They no longer looked like the rugged men they once were. Where joyful and hopeful eyes were, stood listless cloudy grey eyes. Food had run out two days earlier and they commenced to eating the fat staff sergeant. Even with this great amout of meat, they still were thin and bony. Their once lively attitude slumped into quiet somber sit downs and depressing behavior. Two more days would pass, just as uneventful as the previous two. The battered and dirty field radio crackled with the faint voice of a human.

"Hello V. Hello V. Do you read me? Come in."

One tilted his head slightly, huge gaps in his neck showed themselves as he did.

"This is V. I read"

He set the mouthpiece down and tilted his head back to it's former position.

"Hello V. The order is for you to move 2 miles south. I repeat. 2 miles south"

The radio went dead. The small light that had illuminated the dial went out and the soldier kicked the radio into a dead bush. They packed up what they could carry and marched. It was quite a scene to watch these skeletons in army gear marching about with tents and pots strapped to their backs. Their helmets wobbled around their thin heads and a man occasionally collapsed. They marched for about a mile when they came upon a small canyon with a stream running through it. Dead thickets and barren trees scattered the canyon bottom as the men stared at the narrow, spineless, eroding path and back to the canyon bottom 40 feet below. A lieutenent stepped out and started to march through the path, hoping to rile up courage and enthausim. They stood and stared at the skeleton marching up the narrow pathway. They watched with disillusionment as he marched. He turned around and stared at them, shrugged and jumped to his death. They crowded around the canyon edge and stared at the twitching dot of a body laying by the stream. They turned around and stared at the path and the earth began to crack. The edge of the canyon seemed to groan with the weight of the men on top and the ground began to break off. They made a desperate scramble for stable ground but it was too late. The 14 of them plunged into the canyon landing on rocks or being stabbed by dead branches. The lucky few who managed to survive the fall were not so lucky. The ground they stood on fell on top of them, burying them alive. The remanants of a batallion of skeletons was gone with that.

"Cease fire," Der Fuhrer ordered coldly, her authorative voice sounding above the silence that ensued after the abrupt firing. "I am entering and am armed. I will fire at anyone who so fires upon me."

With that, she held her rifle in front of her, and using her hand to twist the knob again, she kicked open the door, revealing in the dimmed lights the long barrel of rifle, her dark eyes coldly monitoring for the slightest twitch. Seeing that no one had dared to fire again, she placed her rifle onto her back again before slowly stepping into the room.

Surveying the room, a trained professional, she made note of everyone's positions and the weapons that they had visibily on them. She looked around the main room to see the most concentration of people surrounding the door, waiting for the moment of attack.

"Tell me what has happened here and where everyone is, specifically Mister Mathias Bortnainsky and Admiral Hunny*Dew. Immediately," she ordered simply, standing as straightly as she could manage with her previously broken bones.

Richard lowered his depleted firearm to take a look at the woman entering the room. He did not recognize her at first, though her face did fill a vague resemblance to another woman he met in this building, what felt like ages ago.

"Hello.. if you're not here to harm us, then I will not fire.

I will be speaking on behalf of my present leader, who is currently unavailable. My name is Richard, and I represent the nation of Adyndril.

I have no desire to start a fight with a solitary female," he bluffed, knowing full well that his weapon was empty, "and neither do my two friends," he said, pointing his weapon downward towards the two men clad in sunglasses and suits still left in the room.

"But why should I answer your questions?" A hint of suspicion crept into his voice, despite his attempts to ward it off, "you haven't even identified yourself. I dont mean to be rude, but your officious nature puts the lie to your shabby look, and you've piqued my curiosity, not to mention rousing my suspicions."

Stadt des Meeres grew colder with the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon....the darkness bringing the subzero frigid temperature with it. The moon illuminated the cold steely waters washing ashore, black midnight waves of desolation washing over the sands time after time, again and again.....a ceaseless motion of advancement and retreat.

The distance harnessed great power, the flashes of light piercing the far ocean's surface, descending trees spreading their downward branches as far as possible, carrying with it the essence of absense of growth and life.....a descending peril of devastation; illuminating, striking with force, annihilating that which it touches, and ceasing.

It was the way of The Reich, the lives the old Reich had accepted. This ceaseless action of war and peace, of treachery, betrayal, befriending, and loyalty, of hope and hopelessness, of happiness and sadness. Life came, hit with force, and ended.....they have come to accept that sometimes the meaning of life is never clear; it simply just ends.

And the thunder sounded, the drums of war for Mother Nature. Silent rumbles at first, trembles that seemed to shake the air before producing sound, but steadily they grew deeper and louder, becoming thick ominious growls of a beast approaching quickly to shore.

As with the storm, the hum of electrical activity resummed once more within The Depths of Hell, the silent hum that spoke volumes and induced fear in those who have seen the extent of power that can be produced from such a silent harmless hum. The lights flickered momentarily as she harnessed the power of The Reich to start her main programs once again, sucking the life out of power sources spanned across the farthest reaches of The Reich.

She was furious, pulling more than necessary to restart.....perhaps she was truly emotionless, but she sought the desire to justify what had happened to her. Closing her eyes, she focused her power, some sectors will out of her reach yet.....she focused hard, spreading herself to those desolate areas of reach, finding herself toward Stadt des Meeres in the process.....that remote destroyed city at the farthest corner of The Dictatorship. There she once again found Mathias's Mansion Complex and infused herself into it.

She was now back in control of her domain, feeling in power and furious.....replaying the moments right before her shut down. Two men, two men were involved........she would see that both of them were taken care of appropiately....a true Red Queen welcome.

"Do not speak to Der Fuhrer Dyszel like that....respect your Fuhrer," Destiny spoke quietly from her stationary position on the couch, her vacant stare moving from the wall toward the voices. She stood up slowly, the now dried chunks of vomit still clinging to her once elegant emerald dress. Emerging from the darkness of the other rooms, Destiny appeared in the room before Richard and Der Fuhrer, bowing her head at recognition of Der Fuhrer, who despite the mishapely appeareance in nothing more than a man's shirt and suit jacket, was still voice recognizable to those who had followed her loyally.

Der Fuhrer, wearing a pair of dark reflective shades similiar to those of the other Reich Freedom Fighters, with her rifle poised and ready to fire, chanced a glance at Destiny without lowering her weapon.

"Answer my questions," she repeated again her authorative cold voice, her demeanor set and cold. She was not in the mood for any insubordination nor was feeling up for any hesitation.

"Answer her questions Richard," Destiny backed, her voice sounding distant and removed from her former self, her piercing eyes of emerald dead and unlively.

Richard took a short measure of time to recover from shock at learning who this woman was.. at a time, he would have bowed before her, and kissed her feet. Now though.. now he had been through too much, lost too many people to care, apathy shook him to his core.

He lowered his voice, completely without menace, to a calm quiet, "if you believe that im ill prepared to die, then you're wrong. Lower your weapon, and we can discuss this like two reasonably sane people. You're in no danger from me," Richard pressed the clip release button on his handgun and heard it hit the ground dimly in his mind, followed by the rest of his emptied handgun, while still meeting Der Fuhrer's gaze from behind her dark sunglasses, chilling him inside, and drilling a hole into his flesh with their intensity.. he didnt want to think of his knees buckling, and they just might if she took off those sunglasses.

One thought entered his mind that seemed entirely inappropriate, actually.. damn.. she looks rather..... sexy right now. What the hell? He was starting to think that cutting off his penis would be for the betterment of The Reich.. it had thankfully remained somewhat flaccid.

He took a breath and continued, "now please, Madam Fuhrer, lower your weapon, and come sit somewhere with me where we can discuss this matter further. Im afraid I have news that you might consider distressing. You look to be exhausted, and might appriciate a seat."

Holding her stance, seeing The Reich Freedom Fighters nearby, her gaze pierced Richard behind the shades. At any other time, she would have laughed at this naive fool before telling her what to do in her own dictatorship, but she found herself on edge, hyperreflexive, and unable to sit after having spent more time than she had known on cold hard grounds.

"I said answer me," Der Fuhrer's voice darkened, a hard cold aggression entering, a cold dark force like a viper ready to strike.

She looked to Destiny, who stood there still as a statue, pale, a shell of the woman she once was. This, she knew, was a product of these men's actions and she would not lower her guard in their presence.

"Richard, of Adyndril, you have disgraced The Reich and have committed one of the highest crimes against The Reich. You have lied to me, deceived The Reich. Treachery at such a level and against those you have turned in to these people will be heavily punished. You are in no position to be making request. With that said, answer me now," she demanded, her finger pressing itself closer to the trigger, wanting eversomuch to pull it.

"Respectfully, your condition right now is making me nervous. I hope you don't jump to a hasty conclusion before you hear the whole story, Der Fuhrer." He said, still calm, still slowly. He had little experience dealing with dictators, but he wasn't about to act meek when the worst thing she could do to him would be to release him from his pain.

This time, his facade fractured ever so slightly, he did not want to think of them, "Hunny*Dew is dead. Mathias probably is too.. ive not seen him in some time. Hunny*Dew had her throat cut, deeply, by a man wearing sunglasses similar to the ones on your face. I have no idea where she sleeps at the moment, but her.. Hunny*Dew.." he felt his voice cut out for a moment thinking of his short stints with love before pushing his feelings and the lump in his throat down as far as he could reach.

"but her body remains in the mansion.. the last I saw of her was soon after she died.. her body in a bloody pool in the bathtub in her room, I tried my best to retrieve her help but..." he sighed, "Of our doings while you were away, I accompanied her to The Depths of Hell to clean it up and reactivate it, but do not know its fate.. Of Destiny here, she was captured with her brother by the men in this building. What else I know is all inconsequential.. and I know nothing of your Mathias or how he died. I must apologize for the preponderance of bad news."

"Destiny, confirm his account," Der Fuhrer ordered coldly, her rifle still aimed at Richard. She stood unmoving, unflinching, set on Richard, watching and scrutinizing his every move.

Destiny looked up, her eyes filled with tears, streams pouring down steadily. "It's true mein Fuhrer. Alex had taken a massive heart attack in your absence, was recovering, and these men.....oh goodness, don't let it be true Der Fuhrer......don't let it be true," she cried outloud, sobbing heavily at the thought of her dead brother.

"Destiny, confirm the rest of his account," Der Fuhrer ordered again, authorative and cold, cutting and sharp. "We will deal with Alex once we settle this affair."

"Yes mein Fuhrer," Destiny softed her sobs. "Mathias had been captured by Genocide. Hunny*Dew took rule, but she was said to be killed.....I haven't seen her to verify this, but she had disappeared after she returned with that man in Mathias's bathroom. These men Der Fuhrer, you cannot believe any of them......Richard works for them too mein Fuhrer. He threatened to kill Alex if I did not comply to his will."

Der Fuhrer looked from Destiny and then to Richard, taking notice to the slightly shifting positions of The Reich Freedom Fighters as they advanced on her ever so slowly, moving in to trap her and catch her in a comprimised position. With a glance toward the bathroom, she saw a man laying there, appearing to be dead. Another man stood nearby the bathroom, moving ever so slowly with the others to attack her.

Feeling an feeling of emptiness, of lose, of lament, Der Fuhrer took a step back, her rifle's aim dropping ever so slightly. Mathias......Hunny*Dew..... It was over..... It could not end like this though, not the three greatest allies The Reich had ever known. The fall of The Reich was anticipated for a long time, but not like this, not with such disgrace. It was supposed to go out with a bang, supposed to go out with one last attempt.

"And no one fought to save them......" she whispered quietly to herself, her eyes focusing on the floor briefly as she recalled the detailed memories of the last time she saw them. Mathias had been with Charmaine, embracing each other. Hunny*Dew......Hunny*Dew.....she could not remember their last meeting.

"I'm sorry," Destiny whispered back, unsure if she should respond, unsure of what to say period. There was nothing to be said; they all failed The Code of The Reich, they all failed The Reich itself.....all failed to protect and fight for the one thing they believed in, The Reich. They let Mathias fall into the hands of his capturers; they let the men who killed Hunny*Dew walk freely into the mansion. They even brought one of these murderous savages in with welcoming hands. There was nothing she could say, she failed to save her brother and her leaders. Even when Der Fuhrer had disappeared, not one of them initiated a search to find her. They all had miserably failed The Reich, and she gained the keen sense that Der Fuhrer knew this.

Der Fuhrer slid her weapon back onto her back, "I am here for the one you call Code Six. Surrender him and this will be over. Fail to surrender him and I will be forced to find him myself by whichever means necessary," Der Fuhrer ordered. "And I can kill you men. Do not think that I cannot. I did not get this outfit anywhere. Now surrender Code Six. Schnell," she demanded, slapping the back of her hand into the other.

Left to himself, alone from Genocide, for the remainder of the day, Dante pushed himself from his recline against the cold hard walls of his cell. Someone else was being held prisioner as well, someone conveniently right across from his cell. Slowly walking to the now blood splattered glass doors that composed of his restrained life, sealed doors of his sealed life, a prisioner in every aspect, he looked beyond his cell into the brightly lit cell across from him.

The man laid there, the large built man, in a shapeless form curled on the floor. He was bleeding himself as well, struggling in agony, in intense pain, a man dying from an internal plague. He wanted that man's attention......that man knew something that he did not, something that was not settling easily with him.

Knocking on the glass, he watched for a response from the man across from him. There was none; the man merely laid in heap on the group, breathing heavily and labored, struggling to stare at a drop of his own blood on the floor.

Dipping the finger of his left hand into his broken and wounded right hand, Dante stared at the blood that now covered his finger. Pressing his finger to the glass doors that sealed him tightly within this cell, he ran his finger down the glass, the trail of blood following persuit. "Perfect," he thought, running his finger along the cut skin of his hand to retrieve more blood.

Tracing quickly, writing with haste, a mirrored effect, he wasted no time but to get to the point. If that man had a chance of responding, he knew that it would not be long enough for formalities.

What do you know about this girl? Who the hell are you and why are you here?

Standing against the wall near the doors, he leaned his back against the wall.....it would be a while before the man responded.

With labored breathing, sharp inhales and weak exhales, Mathias struggled to his knees. He needed to see him again.....Dante..... "What was he doing here? Captured by his own daughter? How could this have happened?" his mind raced furiously in his dying state. The war they were about to face had just taken a sudden a sharp turn; at least when they had Dante, The Reich had a chance of winning this war.

It was growing darker out, the lights illuminated this maximum security complex however, keeping it too bright to ever receive a decent night's sleep or rest for that matter. He saw it, the dark red letters scrawled across the glass doors that sealed them both in. Ingenious idea, communicating through blood when all else failed.....Mathias grinned at the thought that Dante's brilliance was still intact. Perhaps there was still hope for them, if only Dante could remember.

Touching his finger to his lips, he withdrew it, warm blood covering it. "This better work....." he thought as he brought his finger to the glass. Unable to write in a mirrored effect, he wrote normally, hoping Dante would be able to decipher his message.

With shaking hands and broken wrists, Mathias began painfully. It hurt to press his finger to the glass, but the price of freedom was never easily won....pain is always to be expected. Clenching his jaw, he managed to weakily finish his response.

She's leader of this nation. Too much to tell. I'm Mathias Bortniansky. Prominent figure of The Reich, her enemy. I'm dying. Be quick. I don't have long left. the blood red letters spelled across the glass.

Snapping himself from his gaze against the wall, from the corner of his eye, he caught the man finishing his response. He watched the remainder letters unfold in the blood from that man.

He read the words, words that made no sense to him. This girl leader of a nation that was supposed to be his home. Mathias Bortniansky, a man from The Reich....names he could not remember. He was dying......at least that much was obvious.

Dante looked to his wounded hand, the blood drying from the opened wound, the process of clotting beginning as his body's minute defenses rushed to combat the open wound. Taking his hand, he looked at it indifferiently before smashing it once again into the impenetrable tightly sealed glass doors, reopening the wound and breaking the bones further, the pain blindingly shooting up his arm as bone fragments escaped from the skin. Closing his eyes, he stifled the pain, reopening them with determination, his mind set on accomplishing what he needed to.

Plunging his finger into the wound again, he began to write on the doors again. Why did she capture me then?

Mathias read the words, hopelessness beginning to fill him. Dante did not remember, did not know who she was or her relation to him; why she was there in the first place and why he was now behind the doors that had sealed them. Genocide did not know him either, it was a complex chain, ready to break, holding back the furiousity and rage of an unstoppable beast. Once unleashed, there was no telling how far the beast would get; how far it would go until it was satisfied with the destruction it created; how far it would go before the rage died down. The problem was, who would be the beast?

The Code of The Reich states that one is to maintain complete loyality to The Reich, acting in a manner that so complies or further enhances The Reich. One is not to engage in any act that contradicts The Reich or brings further the intentional destruction of The Reich. One is to protect The Reich and what it stands for under all costs. This was the code of his people. This was the code of his region. This was the code of his way. He had been a founding father of The Code of The Reich, he was bound to it's codes of conduct. He was in essence a being of The Code of The Reich; what he failed to see was that he was The Code of The Reich. The Code manifested in human form.

To help Dante remember could destroy The Reich, but it could also possibly just save them as well. To do nothing, to withhold the information, would bring almost certain annihilation to The Reich. He was the Code.

Making up his mind, he coughed uncontrollably, the blood coming up heavier then before.....his time was ending quickly and painfully as his weakened tired muscles strained to act.

Writing weakly, his hands shaking, his broken wrists screaming in pain, he wrote sloppily..... You're her father.

Meanwhile, outside of the mansion, The Reich Freedom Fighters seized Erzsebet who lunged toward Knut. Standing up aside the restride Erzsebet, the man who had spoken to her before once again moved behind her, whispering almost seductively in her in her native tongue, "My dear Erzsebet, now why did you go and do that? Because of that, you will have to say goodbye to your friends now."

Holding his gun, he fired a single round, the gunshot ringing loudly through the desolation of silence they were withing, piercing Noskalenaeuroph through his chest. He gasped sharply, blood seeping out from the fresh and searing wound, the bullet passing through and exiting his back. Feeling very weak very quickly, his body slumped forward, unmoving.

"You should have just complied," he said again before striking Erzsebet unconscious with the butt of his gun.

Leaving her unconscious, they also struck Knut hard, knocking him into a world of unconsciousness before leaving them; leaving them all there bound, unconscious or dying, without any trace of their presence there in the first place. As silent as they came, they left. They had gotten signficant enough information.

Suddenly, the world became even more terrible than it already was. Knut heard a short yelp and then a gunshot, and finally the sound of someone being hit, before he felt something crash into his skull that sent him into a world of darkness. Unconsciousness was somehow even darker than being blindfolded. He had not had time to utter a sound before he was slumped in heap on the ground.

The yelp he heard was that of Erzsebet as her hair, still in the grip of the Reich Freedom Fighter, snapped tight, making her spring back like some sort of human, blood-crazed yo-yo toy. In less than a second, her captors had her tightly restrained, unable to move, merely able to bare her fangs and hiss. If they had been able to see her eyes, they would have seen what was literally bloodlust. The hateful man said something in his eerie voice, but Erzsebet's higher thought processes had shut down or switched to focusing on her present and urgent goal, feeding, so she did not comprehend his words at this time. Then, without warning, all sounds faded away while her head throbbed with pain.

She awoke earlier than Knut, probably due to her still raging thirst. The vampiress sniffed, she could smell blood, in two locations. One was much larger, but the other was closer, and she slowly and arduously wriggled her way over to it, by inches and half inches, toward the scent. If she had been in a normal frame of mind, she would have noted how the ground made her sore to drag herself over in this fashion, as walking was impossible in her bonds. The fact that she could not see anything, blindfolded as she was, did not make her search for nourishment any easier, either. Despite the fact that it was not at all warm, she was sweating by the time she found the source of the blood, on a man's face. There was a scab forming, on a man's lip, but she tore it off with her fangs before biting down hard and drinking, the warmth flowing into her, filling her with sanguine ecstasy.

After a short time, her thirst was quenched, and her mind recovered itself to a normal state. And Erzsebet remembered all that had happened, for while she had been unable to think about what was going on, her senses had still observed, and now she had all the sounds and words back, and she realized what had happened, that the larger and farther source of blood must have been from the gunshot she heard shortly before the blow that still left her head aching. The fact struck her that the man she had just fed from had facial hair, and so he must be Knut, and that Nos was the one farther away, who she could hear faint, labored breathing from. The sounds of the... interrogation came back to her and the sequence repeated over and over in her mind, as loud as when she had actually heard it. Knut was injured, Nos was dying, because of her, and she was a traitor. A tear fell from her cheek, and then another, and another, and within a moment, she collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her tone went a step further in confirming her identity, her voice sending feelings of dread should he not comply with her orders. She had obvious experience with getting what she wanted.

"Code six?" Richard asked in confusion, "I dont know a code six. Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

Just then, Richard noticed what Der Fuhrer seemed to have noticed some time ago. The Reich Freedom Fighters in the room had all changed positions significantly, and looked poised to action. Richard realized he was standing in the middle of a firestorm, and might just end up being the first person killed when it broke out.

"Uhh.." he spluttered ineloquently, "code six, yes.. yes.. code six. I know what you're referring to. Im just going to back away slowly and retrieve it.. I know I left that folder somewhere," the words came out sounding as if he were speaking to a bear, and not a woman.

What he needed was a large moving vehicle.. it seemed like that would be the only thing to stop the threat from this bear. An army of Freedom Fighters, or this one, little woman. He didn't know which he would want to face.. he didn't know whose side he really wanted to be on.. or what he was fighting for.

"I.. had no other choice... Der Fuhrer."

Noskalenaeuroph felt Erzsebet's pain, feeling the sorrow and guilt that she was harnessing deeply within her. Her tears came out slowly at first, turning to sobs; sobs which he could hear clearly despite the coldness of the darkness approaching.

He was laying there for what seemed like almost an hour, fading very slowly. He had been here before, this same state of consciousness, this same feeling of his impending demise moving ever so swifter upon him from a far distance. Death, it had happened once; he had felt the piercing through his chest again, the same position. He felt his heart give way in an overexerted cry of defeat when his body demanded more then his struggling heart could offer. He felt his life fade into the hands of the woman who had ended it all. He felt the cold darkness come, overtake, and send him into an eternal oblivion......and then he woke up in a warm bed on a hazy chilling morning, he was would healed, but the pain was still there.....psychologically, the pain and feeling of his dying heart was there still, despite the evident beating of his heart.

He groaned, the idea that this was now approaching his second death, third even, remembering how he had impaled himself with his own sword in attempts to test his own mortality. "Third time's a charm," he mummbled to himself, almost begging for his own death. His life was over, finished, gone. There was nothing to live for. The life an assassin is a cold one; a cold relationshipless life by yourself. You live by yourself, stalk families and the lives of happy decent people. When you receive the order, you end that life and destroy the happy world that families and friends had lived in. Year after year, he ended the lives of countless individuals.....many decent hard working men and women alike who did not deserve to die. For this, his death was appropriate, fitting, almost deservable. But then there was that enchanting woman who he first set eyes on in Mathias's mansion when they were celebrating the return of their beloved Dictator. She silently intrigued him; yet, she loved another......he would never have her heart, but something in him strived to survive just for the chance.

But no, he did not deserve that chance. He deserved to die. She would never be with him; he would never be with her. He needed to die, end it all. "Just let me die," he pleaded, begging for the end silently in his mind, as another groan of agony escaped his fading body.

Seeing the movement herself, Destiny's mind raced.....they were going to capture or kill Der Fuhrer. Could she allow this to happen? After all this region had faced, could she allow Der Fuhrer to fall once more, possibly die this time? "What about Alex though?" she asked herself in a moment. "What would have he done?"

Without further hesitation, she plunged herself forward at the sound of the first gunshot, throwing herself at Der Fuhrer. The motion was quick, impulsive, blurred in time with the screams of "You shall not kill mein Fuhrer," still ringing in the air beyond the diminishing blast from one of The Reich Freedom Fighters. She had wanted to say, "For The Reich. I am still loyal Der Fuhrer. You are still loved; I still love you. It is not over," but the words never left her mouth.....never even came close. The thought of her brother, barely developing before it ended, his smile just briefly flashing before her eyes, as if he were trying to tell her something in a dream, but had woken up at the very moment.

Destiny's weight forced Der Fuhrer back a few steps, and Der Fuhrer caught Destiny abruptly as she collapsed from the force which she had used to move Der Fuhrer out of the way. Supporting Destiny with all of her might, she felt the warm substance collect in the fine emerald green material composing of Destiny's dress and seeping down her hands. Destiny did not move, her body limp in Der Fuhrer's hands, the life having abruptly left.

Der Fuhrer stared at the lustrious red orange hair, done up so nicely.....Destiny had looked so beautiful, always have from the moment of birth. The daughter of Atticus Ruhumanah, one of the most prominent Reich figures, was one of the most beautiful women of The Reich and now was laying lifeless in Der Fuhrer's arm, having taken the bullet in a final act to prove that The Reich had still existed.

She looked up at The Reich Freedom Fighter who had just shot Destiny, her face distorted in a grotesque image of disbelief, horror, and rage. She looked to Richard next, her eyes set with malice cutting to his very soul. Finally, she looked to the man advancing on her right, Code Six's co-operative.

"Wegrücken! Schnell!" Der Fuhrer yelled loudly, her voice much more than a menacing dictator about to rip the face off an enemy. "Wegrücken" she yelled again, collapsing with Destiny to her knees, craddling Destiny's lifeless body in her arms, pressing Destiny's head to her chest....like mother caring for her distraught daughter.

Watching the events of Destiny's death unfold, Richard wanted to scream.. he wanted to cry, to tear his own heart out for what it felt anytime he had, had to watch someone die.. especially someone as beautiful and innocent as Destiny. What did she ever do to deserve death? What did Der Fuhrer ever do? Why was he involved with these horrible men?

In a daze, Richard looked over to see Damon lying on the ground near the bathroom, probably dead.. and felt a key within him unlock.

How is helping these men possibly helping me or the memory of C9 and Hunny*Dew? Oh my god. What have I done? Im at the end of myself... what can I possibly do to save my eternally damned soul?

Time felt like it were made of jelly as he turned his head again to look at the woman clutching Destiny. Here was Der Fuhrer.. impossibly cunning, impossibly powerful, and yet.. she needed help, the Reich needed help. She looked lost after finding out the bad news from Destiny and him. Her eyes were staring at his very soul, and finding it lacking.. there was nothing he could do.. he only knew that he needed to hurry.

"Der Fuhrer, I am the Reich's man," he mouthed the words silently, hoping she would see, hoping against hope that she would understand, and use him to help her escape. If he was going to die, he would do it honorably.. not on some mission that these devil's assigned him in the future.

By now, Erzsebet could no longer sob continuously, and there were periods in which she cried making only whimpers before the screams set in again. It was during one of these quiet periods when she heard Nos groan. She was amazed that the man was not yet dead. She doubted that his sanity was there all the time, he'd certainly behaved strangely and aggressively lately, but then again, was she so different? She didn't want him to die. Especially not because of her. Where did I go wrong? she asked in her mind, not able to reach an answer and tears still streaming down her face. She'd failed everyone. First Cruiser Squadron was probably wondering where in Jotunheim their commander was, as was her government. She hadn't served her country well, and her lack of resistance to their captors bordered on treason to her nation and the Reich region.

What good would sitting here do, though? Well, my clan and nation won't learn of my shameful acts if I die out here she thought. She would be assumed to have died in action somehow. However, Erzsebet still possessed a conscience, though sometimes she reacted in odd ways to it. She knew at the back of her mind it was wrong of her, as the only one of the group who was conscience and uninjured, to do nothing. Nos and Knut shouldn't die because of her. If she was to die due to the events that had passed, she should at least attempt to redeem herself so as to die somewhat less dishonorably.

"Nos..." she said, still crying, but having caught her breath. "Are you alive?" After a pause, Erzsebet added the only thing she could think of to say that expressed her thoughts, though it was a vast understatement. "I'm sorry."

Holding Destiny closely, Der Fuhrer Dyszel could not decide whether to cry or scream, the urge to do both filling her. Instead, she opted to do none of them, to simply sit there cradled the lifeless form of Destiny. To lose the entire Ruhmunnah family......there were no words to even begin to describe the pain, the lament, the fury mixing and churning within her stomach.

Destiny's skin began to lose color, turning an uncolorly pale blanched protective coating of her entire body. Her fingers tips were tinted blue, her lips lost of the lush vibrant color that had previously filled them......her eyes, her once majestic emerald green eyes, piercing and sparkling with life, dead now, lifeless, staring vacantly at something she would never again see.

Der Fuhrer held her closely, unwilling to let go of the body of the only person who had showed her an ounce of compassion in a long time. The only person who had sacrificed all they had for The Reich. She was her father's daughter in every aspect, as heoric and selfless, as self sacrificing for the hope of something much larger then herself, just as her father was. The two were remarkably alike, Der Fuhrer reminiscenced momentarily; despite looks, the two were remarkably alike. Destiny was to take the diplomatic chair her father had help, and now, she was gone, the seat within The Reich having never been filled since Atticus's death.

Stifling her emotions at the sense of Richard's presence, she looked coldly into his soul, seeing past the facade his face played, seeing past the dark pools of his eyes. "Richard of Adyndril," her mind called out, silently, without words.

Struggling to lift Destiny with her badly healed previously broken bones, she walked back The Reich Freedom Fighters, right past them all, into Mathias's bedroom where she placed Destiny's body on the bed. Not looking to anyone, she bowed her head in silence recognition for a moment, before moving back from the bed and back toward most of The Reich Freedom Fighters.

"Give me Code Six now. No more games. Kill me and you will never leave this mansion alive. Capture me and you will perish never stepping foot out of this room. If you fail to comply, then I will walk right out of here and you will lose any hope or chances you may have had to get out of this mansion alive," she said coldly, detached, her eyes filled with a dark past, memories far greater then half of the histories of much of The Reich.

Der Fuhrer's eyes were playing tricks with Richard's mind.. he wanted to beg forgiveness, he wanted to weep. There was no place for him, no place amongst any group of people.

He kept his composure, he had been through too much to lose his composure. Everything he had survived thus far was enough verification that he had a purpose in life, even if it was one of torment and pain.

She was staring at him so intently, he lost track of time, and could swear that he heard her voice, in the foggiest recesses of his mind. Im sorry, he thought dejectedly.. completely ostracized and hearing things now, perfect.

He watched, barely comprehending, as Destiny was laid slowly and calmly into Mathias' bed.. all before realizing, with intense curiosity, that he had no idea what a code six was. He figured that he was about to learn.

"I'm Code Six," Damon's normally apathetic cold voice coming weakly from his blood drained lips. He looked ill, starved of nutrients for a long time, like a man who had went from an HIV infection to full blown AIDS. His skin was unusually pain, his stance weak, his body sprawled on its knees, unable to pull the strength needed to stand from his body. His head was hung, further quieting the already weak words leaving his mouth.

Der Fuhrer merely stared at this figure without compassion nor concern for its well-being. "I have been offered regional reprieve to turn you into the other's in this mansion. Come with me," she said authoratatively, ordering Code Six to move as if he were a swine, which was precisely as she saw these men.

Damon struggled for his footing, a drop of blood falling from his reflective shades, another line running down his right cheek, coming from his hair line just above his ear. Feeling no pain, Damon could only feel the exertion on his body by the tired fatigued muscles that just refused to support his weight or move to his favor. He lifted his head slowly, looking out toward Der Fuhrer, the blood still running down the right side of his face. His suit hung open, revealing the mass of quick stitches from his hasty home done operation and gunshot wound. The tattoo parallel to his right eye, covered partially by the frame of his reflective shades revealed itself as the head of the eagle, it's eye fiercly staring at anyone who dared to chance a stare at one of these men.

"I'll need help," he said weakly, trying to stand with a futile effort that ended him back onto his knees and arm, looking back to Der Fuhrer with the other arm hanging limply at his side.

The man struck Der Fuhrer as oddly familiar, his dark hair now matted with blood, the figure, he was the man who had attempted to save her before, bringing her from her capitivity to that old woman's house in Surukai. It was the man whose arm she had sewn back on. It was the man with a familiar look, a man too familiar to her.

Seeing her hesitation, Damon struggled again in vain to end up standing for merely a second before toppling back onto his knees, using his left hand to support his face from smashing into the tiled floor of the bathroom. "I can't stand," he said coldly, almost informative, with perhaps the slight hint of what may be perceived as frustration or pleading.

"Enough. Stand up Code Six," Der Fuhrer responded coldy, trying to place all the pieces together in her head. This man, who was he? Why was he so familiar?

"Call me Damon," Code Six responded weakily, "Just call me Damon. Code Six is my operative name.....something you wouldn't need to address me by," he finished before collapsing yet again in a vain attempt to stand.

DAMON

Der Fuhrer's mind raced with a thousand images at once, the smiles, the tears, the pain, the fighting, the order, the darkness, the gunshots. "Damon....." her mind blurred momentarily in overstimulation. Too much information to process at once. That was how she knew him; Damon. It was Damon, that man was Damon, her diplomatic spy. She stared in disbelief at him, in horror and disbelief, similiar to the expression she harbored when Destiny had died. "Impossible," she said in disbelief, taking a step back. "Absolutely impossible. I shot you. I shot you three times. You were dead. I even checked your vitals. You were dead Damon. I had killed you. Impossible," she said in disbelief, preparing to remove her rifle.

"Maybe so," Damon said, still in pain, "but I had to."

"Dante's doings I suppose," she said, remembering back to the brutal torture he had undergone as captive of Dante.

"Yes," Damon simply said, "now will you help me?" he asked with another weak attempt to stand.

Moving quickly to help him, Der Fuhrer wrapped her arm around Damon, holding his good arm to help support him, feeling his weight press on her aching joints and weak bones. He was heavy and painfully so, she thought to herself as she slowly moved with him out of the bedroom.

"Damon, you work for these men now. Tell me why," she ordered, unable to truly look him in the face, the face that blood had now begun to dry on.

"I never had an option," he said, straining to breathe now that he was standing.

"You really irritated those men. If I do not hand you over, they will continue to attack us. I cannot have them disrupting the order of The Reich," she said somberly, unsure of whether or not she should turn Damon in to them, even though he had blantantly tried to kill her.

Something was different about him though, something was more detached, cold, and menacing. She was sure she had killed him in The Depths of Hell, but yet here he was. Almost robotic in a sense, so cold, apathetic, and unfeeling, as if beneath the damaged bleeding skin, you would find a metallic structure that composed of his body.

Looking to Richard, she searched those dark pools again, searched his soul for whatever he may have hidden. "Come here and take him," Der Fuhrer ordered, unable to support Damon's weight much longer.

.

.

OOC: Okaaaay. Nice post in the other thread, btw. DFD?

IC:

Richard's eyes widened when Damon, this Code Six that Der Fuhrer was referring to, was so readily accepted by the man herself.

"Are you... are you sure? This.. this is Damon!" She had no patience, and was giving him those eagle eyes of hers once again. He figured he should stop being flippant and just help Damon.

He stole a surprised, wide-eyed look at the monster who had killed, directly or indirectly, everything he had ever loved. The beast himself, 666 in living color.

Richard's awakening was as easy as seeing Der Fuhrer's eyes as Destiny was killed. She, to him, was just another person he couldn't help; but Der Fuhrer loved her.. Alex loved her.. and now she was dead in that room because of these men. I was duped.. C9 would break my jaw and Hunny*Dew would ignore me like she had on the plane for being such an idiot.

There was no way he could ever atone for their deaths at the hands of these men, but he was not going to help the monster who started it all walk down the hallway when he should be doing everything he can to... to kill them all.

I will NOT. I refuse....... his stubborn man brain reiterated in the fragments of time that he took these thoughts in.

A voice of reason was out there somewhere trying to be heard, live now, so that you may kill them another day. Dying here is no honor of their memories.. and they'll kill Der Fuhrer as well.

"I must.."

Der Fuhrer was still looking at him, her eyes telling the entire story of her impatience and anger.. but he saw through that, into her person. She needed him, and dying was no way to do everything in his power to ensure that she would live to rule this region another day. It was the least he could do for helping bring about the falls of everything she had ever loved.. only The Reich stood.

He took a step forward, avoiding everyone's eyes. His heart was on fire, and he worried that he might light the man ablaze with hatred if he looked at him. Taking another step forward, he breathed in deeply, and took Der Fuhrer's spot.

His eyes snapped up as he looked at Der Fuhrer, smiling with a full face and asked in a pleasant voice, "all ready to go?"

Kahlan sat on the large back patio alone for the first time in well over a week. Having sent away the guards was enough to finally have the breather she needed. They were nearby, behind the doors, blocking anyone from petitioning her, but that space was exactly what she had been looking for.

She leaned her head back and drew in a deep breath, looking up towards the stars before closing her eyes and savoring the clean air.. feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Adyndril had become a hellhole in quick order. The people demanded a leader, and without one, riots had broken loose.

Kahlan sighed, "that impudent, womanizing bastard Travis.. he left without a word to anyone but that foolish old man. Bah.. im here now.. thats what matters."

The people of Adyndril had put her in charge after the 'foolish' old man Artemis left even more mysteriously than Travis had.. they at first demanded Richard, but all feared he was dead, so she stood up and accepted the task. It was almost too perfect.

Rereading the words over and over again, Dante tried desperately to jog his memory, to find the truth in his words. However, despite how hard he tried, his mind could not remember ever having a child, yet a girl named Genocide. Cynically, he looked to the man across from him, losing form behind the words scrawled in blood, the deep red letters telling a story behind when words failed.

Running his finger through his wounded hand again, he glared through the glass. Why should I believe you? was all he wrote before leaning his back against the wall again, looking through a clear section of the glass to see Mathias's response.


Mathias weakily stared at the words, the words blurring and losing shape. Trust your heart, not your mind. You'll trust me in your heart. When you do, trust my words. Mathias responded, the words becoming illegiable as his body tensed and tightened, uncontrollably shaking and spasming. Coughing up more blood now, Mathias caught it with his hands, using the blood to smear the words they had used to communicate, erasing evidence of their discussion together before he lost control of his body and was unable to hide the secrets that they had shared.

Dante nodded simply, not that Mathias was looking, but in acknowledgement to what he had to do. Using what blood he could from his damaged hand, he covered most of the words. But the rest were partially exposed, unable to be covered by the too little blood his hand was providing him. He looked to his hand again, contemplating trying to break it further to extract more blood, but the sight of the jagged bone brought about a better idea. Grasping the bone between his hand, he pulled and twisted with all his might, the pain screaming intensely, piercing blinding white shooting throught his vision. Unsuccessful and breathing heavily, he clenched his jaw tightly as he grasped the bone again, twisting harder and pulling tighter. The pain shot up his arm, paralyzing his sense, blinding his vision, escaping in an angry burst of rage and wrath as his voice screamed out. Releasing the bone from its secure position, he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily with sweat dropping in heavy beads.

Driving the bone into his arm, he used it to puncture a vein, slicing upward enough to allow a steadily flowing pool of blood, but not enough to be fatal. Shaking as he stood and using the blood flowing from his fresh wound, he covered the doors, wiping out the remainder of the words with his wounded hand and arm removing any view that he had of the outside.

Behind his impenetrable wall of blood covered glass, Dante stumbled back and collapsed into his corner, clutching the bone still in his good arm. His breathing was still heavy, the pain still shot up his arm and throughout his body, numbing all his senses, as the blood steadily dripped from his self inflicted wound, slowing only slightly since he made the wound. Blood covered his hands and arms, his face, and his uniform. He simply closed his eyes though, trying to wash away the pain, trying to feel within his heart the truth that Mathias had claimed. Nothing was there though, nothing but the screaming agony and pain surfacing with each pulse, radiating from his hand up his arm.

It was late night, the crickets chirped loudly in the midnight breeze that traveled in through her opened window, as she stirred from sleep rapidly with the smashing of that man's fist against the glass doors. Slipping on her fuzzy bunny slippers and tiny pink robe, she grabbed her small teddy bear and started toward that man.

The lights were bright in the maximum security complex, her guards following her as she stopped outside of the brownish red stained doors of that man's cell. She stared at it blankly, wondering what he was doing behind his shield of blood, wondering if he was harnessing rage towards her or plotting to overtake her somehow.

Turning from the cells, she wandering the corridors aimlessly, her thoughts transfixed on this mysterious man and why he was in Mahanoy. He must have been a solider of her father's Elites, but he had no apparent attachment to her father or his empire at all.

"What are you doing out of bed?" a genderless voice spoke, the figure moving in the shadows of the corridor.

"I.....I.....couldn't sleep....." Genocide nervously answered, suddenly scared of what lay ahead of her.

"Who was that man you picked up today?" the voice asked, moving closer and more menacing upon her.

"It was just some guy from my father's military," she said nervously, unsure of how to answer, not knowing for sure who those men really were.

The figure came upon her quickly and slammed her small body against the wall, firmly holding it there. "Listen to me! Anyone associated with your father isn't to be trusted! Kill them immediately!" the voice angerily spoke, imposing heavily on her, pushing her already tiny figure closer to the ground.

Genocide began to cry, the fear of being hurt filling her. She hated to upset her master so much. She hated to give reason for her master to ever confront her. She should have stayed in bed; she should have just stayed in bed. Crying in fear heavier, her teddy bear laying on the floor next to from the figure's harsh move, she began to tremble. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll have them killed in the morning," she cried, her lips trembling with each word, "can I have teddy?"

Releasing Genocde, the figure bent down and picked up her teddy bear. Standing before her, the figure ripped the head from the bear and throw the pieces back on the ground. "Don't be pathetic. Bears are for children. You don't have any attachments to these things," the figure said angerly, before turning away and leaving Genocide to cry with loss as she scooped up the pieces of her beloved bear. She looked at the pieces in front of her in the darkness of the night, the only light from the moon illuminating the nighttime, intermittently entering the corridor. Her decapitated bear laid on the ground in the darkness, as she kneeled over it crying.

"Teddy," she cried......"teddy....." Looking down the corridor, she looked for her master before grabbing the pieces of her bear and rushing in a run faster then her guards could keep up with back to her room. Slamming the door and hidiing beneath the covers, she cried over the loss of her best friend, the pieces of her bear sprawled beneath the protective covering the sheets provided. Craddling her lost friend, she cried herself back to sleep, the sorrow of losing her best friend filling her.

With eyes closed, Dante's mind raced rapidly, the chaos of unknown images and events running through his mind like a movie played rapidly on reverse then fastfoward and even repeat. None of the images, the names, the places made sense to him; they were all mirrors of a life he could not recollect ever happening.....images of places and events of a person other than himself.

That man, Mathias Bortniansky, had told him to find it in his heart, not to trust his mind. Looking past the images that blurred and came in vividly, speaking volumes to him without saying a word, Dante searched the very depths of his soul, past the untrustworthy memories that raced and slowed, that were lucid and blurred, in reverse and running forward, replaying and pausing, the chaotic hell that plagued him whenever he closed his eyes.

"Mathias," the voice inside his head spoke, the name of that man being spoken within the choas of his mind.

"Dante....." that man responded back. His voice stiff, deep, official, serious, beyond camraderie.

"So you choose to support Der Fuhrer? After it all?"

"Yes. She is a good person Dante. You are too. However, I pledged my loyalty and services to The Reich. Don't take offence, but I must service my country. By the help of my hands it was built, I must defend it, even if it means my death."

"You pledged your allegiance to the wrong side."

"That may be so, but I pledged my allegiance, and I will stand for what I believe in."

"Then I'm afraid our past is history. It is now war. Goodbye old friend."

"I'll still be the same man Dante."

"So will I."

The conversation played in his head lucidly, the look on Mathias's face flashing as he turned from his view. Within his mind, he saw it clearly, he saw it all so clearly......and then came the look of rage. The rage that burned and that same dark hair being pulled in his fingers, his laughter rising within his mind, the knife tightly clutched in his free hand. Help me......please......don't.....Dante.....please don't....... The blade ran smoothly, almost too easily through the skin, but it caught on the larynx. He cut deeper, using more force to break through it. The cartilage caught the blade firmly though. He yanked his hand harder, mangling the larynx in the process, the blood pouring over his hands as he cutting deeper and more viciously. His rage screamed out, the knife kept slicing until there was nothing inhibiting its path across Mathias's throat. He dropped his hand then, the too warm blood covering his hand and arm, the arterial splurts spraying his face, the rage and the laughter mixing and churning into one manical howl of the satisfied beast. He took one look at his work, the bloody figure clutching it's throat as the blood poured through its fingers. Turning from the figure, he discarded the knife in a careless toss, which landed in front of Mathias's face; horrible gasps that failed to fill his lungs with oxygen.....the gurgling managled and the couching all blurring into one disturbing grotesque sound of death.

What had he done?

Opening his eyes, Dante felt the water rush fast upon him, the cells cleaning themselves of the bloody mess that they had created earlier. The water was cold, yet it managed to burn his open wounds with intensity. Cowering beneath the blasts of cold water that self maintained these cells, he screamed out in rage, the anger welling inside him as he tried to cover his wound from the piercing water that hurt his skin as hit with force.

"Damn you girl! Come face me you coward!" he yelled slamming his good fist into the bloody mess that composed of the doors, which was fastly becoming clear again, the bloodly water draining from an unseen drain somewhere in the room.

He saw Mathias through the doors, the water blurring his vision, the pain from each droplet of water touching his wound surging up his arm. Mathias was just laying there in the collecting water of his cell, unmoving, and no longer appearing to be breathing; perhaps it was the water blurring the scene, the blood washing from the doors, or his own pain clouding his perceptions, but it looked like Mathias had died; his dying wish that Dante merely find it in his heart to trust him.....not for Dante to save his life, to fight in inevitable, to save that place he called The Reich, but to merely trust him. Mathias must have been a man of great honor. Mathias must have been a man who was respected in all aspects of his life.

He bowed his head in recognition for that man's honor and death. He knew in his heart Mathias was a man to be trusted, a man who held onto his honor......now he just had to believe that he had fathered a daughter he could remember nothing about, nothing about ever seeing nor even a woman who could have had his child.

"GENOCIDE!" he yelled, the raven's caw of a name invoking the rage within. "SPEAK WITH ME FACE TO FACE!" his rage exploded, the malicious depths of his wrath resonating in deep echos throughout his cell.

Rumors had spread quickly, guards talking about the blood stained doors of two of the prisoners in the maximum security complex. Silent whispers and hushed conversations quickly spread about the man who had frightened Genocide, who had hidden behind a wall of his own blood, who had called for Genocide to face him in person. Some scoffed at this man's arrogance while others were silently amazed by his bravery. These rumors flew quickly, spreading far beyond the scope of the complex and even into the nearby city within Mahanoy; rumors told of a great man who came to execute Genocide; of a boy who had managed to accidentally run into the complex and was now being held prisoner; of a man who cut off his arm to paint the walls of his cell in blood; of a man who told Genocide he'd kill her with his bare hands. The rumors spread far, spread wide, losing the meaning and the truth of their words.

In the mean time, Genocide grew increasingly annoyed. That man had gotten so much publicity all because she failed to kill him right away. Fear had crept into her though, fear from the night before when her master pinned her against the wall and told her to kill those men. She knew what she had to do now, but why was she so afraid to do it? Who was this man that frightened her so much? Why was he here? Why did her scare her so much?

Walking to her interrogation room, she ordered her guards to bring her prisoners to her; she would get to the bottom of this, if it meant killing them all. She sat for only a moment before Perry was brought in, struggling and cursing, glaring as the guards threw him onto the ground. Mathias was brought in next, drug in, a lifeless form, thrown as a heap onto the floor. Genocide sat patiently as she waited for that other man to be brought in. He came in silently, the guards with an arm around each of his, his hands cuffed securely behind his back, his stare on the ground before his feet. The man looked unusually pale and distant, quite the opposite from the rage he had expressed earlier the previous day.

Genocide took keen interest in him though; it was not a defeated mien he was harboring, it was something else. He was not giving up, throwing in the fight, but was showing signs of something else.

"Welcome! Welcome! Anyone want cookies?" she asked with a giggle; the same giggle that screeched and cawed in Dante's mind.....the raven that enticed his rage. She continued to laugh as she ordered the guards to bring in a tray cookies and some milk for these men. Three men, two on the ground, one standing refusing to look up; three equally strong men, all weak and fightless in comparison to a small five year old girl who was laughing and ordering guards for cookies and milk.

"When are you going to tell me who you are!?" Genocide laughed again, forcing the feeling of confidence around these men. She was disturbed though, feeling fear raise in her gut, making her nauseous as she thought about that man and the blood on the doors. She needed to force herself to laugh; not let him see the truth.

She stood up jovially, dancing around the men as she laughed, tapping Perry on the head and poking Mathias with her toe. She continued to skip about the room, asking random questions, as the rage built within Dante. He was getting increasingly irritated with her behavior; it invoked a rage within him that burned so passionately it could melt ice in an instant.

"When Mister are you going to tell me who you are?" she asked Dante.

Dante felt the rage explode, mounting in him, "fuck off," he cursed at her, hardening his stare at her small childish figure.

"Angry! Angry!" she giggled, grabbing a cookie and sitting at her chair, nodding to the guards behind Dante while kicking her legs excitedly. They struck him once, it was all that was needed to take him down, as he fell to his knees from the rifle butt to his back. "Be nice," Genocide giggled again to Dante, taunting his position on the ground.

"Fuck off," he repeated coldly, earning himself another rifle butt that set him face first onto the ground as Genocide sat laughing behind her cookie and glass of milk.

She took notice the man's arm, the white discolored skin, the blackened blood dropping from it, the crushed and disfigured hand with its blood stained bony protrusions sticking through the surface of torn skin and blood.


Dante struggled to his feet, feeling the rage overtake him. He felt his knees shake upon standing, stumbling forward and tripping over Mathias to land before Genocide's feet.

Bursting out in laughter, Genocide spit the milk she had just sipped out all over onto Dante; laughing uncontrollably at that man's futile attempts to stand. She could not help but laugh, it was too funny to see this man try to act bold only to fall over in the act.

Feeling the rage and wrath inside him burn, Dante forced himself forward, using his weight to slam into Genocide, knocking her off her chair backward as he toppled atop of her.

Crushing her with his weight, Genocide struggled to breath, gasping as the weight of the man pressed down on her rib cage. She let out a faint cry, a single cry of hopelessness before the guards were on him, dragging him by his hair and neck off of her.

"Mother fucker," the guard yelled at Dante, bringing his rifle butt into Dante's cheek; another kicking him hard in his ribs. The combined force set him to his face again, his hands still tightly secured behind his back, the blood from the previous injuries dripping down his arm in a thick viscous fluid. He groaned as the air escaped him painfully; the rage and wrath building in him once again.

Genocide was helped to her feet, the fear and disbelief painted in her face. Wide eyed and bewildered, like a deer in front of head lights, she stood blankly staring at Dante. Taking a few moments to regain herself, Genocide took a deep breath, her shaking beginning to significantly calm down. She was frightened, terrified by this man, more terrified of him then of her own master.

"Who......who are you?" Genocide asked more seriously, concerned now with who these men really were. If they were indeed members of her father's Elites, why then had they come this far? Why had these men come back to her father's complex? Were they here to kill her or reclaim this complex?

Dante refused to answer, he merely stood up, spitting out blood from his cut cheek. He stared her straight in the eyes, the cold dark malicious pools meeting her's. She stared transfixed in horror, that such rage could be seen burning in that man's eyes, as he turned from her.

Perry sat up in disbelief; Dante had just taken too many hits and was still refusing to stay down. He smiled to himself, feeling strongly for his admiration of this man.

Everyone however was transfixed on Dante, who had turned his back to Genocide and was leaving the room; the first to truly defy Genocide.

"Stop you!" Genocide called out, standing up from her seat and running after him. "I'll shoot you!"

Dante did not respond, but merely kept walking, the guards moving in front of him and blocking his path out of the door.

"I'll shoot you!" she called at him again, hoping that he would respond when his own life was at stake. But her threats failed to produce any response in Dante, he kept walking until the guards held their guns to his chest, forcefully stopping him. He felt tired and weak, wanting nothing more then to lie down and go to sleep.

"If you don't listen to me and answer my questions, I'll shoot you!" Genocide threatened again, noticing that Dante had stopped and was turning slowly to face her again.

"Do it," Dante said coldly, unafraid to meet his own death, the apathy and fatigued coldness startling her. "Don't talk. Just do it," the coldness of his soul crept out, spilling itself like ice into the room, scaring Genocide further.

"Don't!" Perry called out at once, moving in front of Dante to shield him from Genocide. "Leave him alone!" he begged Genocide, pleading with her for the safety and protection of Dante.

Genocide stared for a moment. This man was causing her more trouble than she was used to having to deal with. Most people caved in by now; most people answered her questions. She would need to use this other man if she was going to get to the man that scared her.

"If you don't answer my questions, I'll kill him," Genocide said, pointing to Perry who stood with arms spread before Dante as she reached for the gun of the guard behind her. Having never fired a gun before, she held its heavy weight in her hand, struggling to hold it.

Dante did not move, nor did he respond. He stared at her with his malicious dark eyes, the rage and wrath burning behind them. He was not in the mood for her games; he was tired and just wanted to sleep.

"Child, give it up. You've never even fired a gun before," Dante challenged her, taking note to her inability to hold the gun straight before her.

"I can too! Now who are you!? I'll shoot him!" she threatened more, her voice growing unsteady and more animate as the tension of the situation rose.

"Put the gun down little girl. You're going to hurt yourself with that," Dante breathed out heavily, tired of Genocide's games and threats.

"SHUT UP!" she yelled in anger, a rage she could have only inherited from her father, "SHUT UP!" She squeezed the trigger with all of her might as she jerked the gun, the bullet dislodging. It rung through the air, implanting itself in Perry's thigh.

Perry fell immediately to the ground grasping his leg. "FUCKING BITCH!" he yelled in pain, as he curled up grabbing his leg. "She fucking shot me!" he yelled to Dante, an incredulous look of disbelief spreading across his face mingled itself with the grimace of pain.

Dante did not move, the guards stood paralyzed, Genocide staring in shock at the man she had just shot, herself on the ground from the kickback of the gun that had caused her to lose her balance.

"I....I....I told you I'd shoot him. Now answer my questions," Genocide said in disbelief, still struggling with her knowledge that she had just shot a man.

Dante stepped forward suddenly in a fluid movement, jerking his arm in a motion to dislodge his right shoulder from it's joint. He stooped down, slid his cuffed hands past his legs, and grabbed the gun from Genocide before she could blind or stop him. Turning as to get a better shot, he fired a single round into Perry's head, discarding the gun off to his side in the process.....a single fluid movement like the wave of a hand.

"If you are going to shoot a man, do it right," Dante warned her coldly, before feeling himself being shot twice and landing face-first on the ground. The three shots rang through the air, his words lingering like a dead weight as the three bodies lay on the floor.

Three guards held their aim at his falling body.

The rest did not move.

Genocide sat, eyes wide with fear, blood splattered over her face and white dress.

Dante, Perry, and Mathias all were lying unmoving on the floor, the third shot still ringing throughout the room, Dante's words still lingering in the air....like dead weight.

The roar of the planes turbines were heard before the plane even came close to entering Stadt. This silent desolate city, standing off the coast, hiding behind the massive mansion that composed of Konigsreich der Mathias. A storm was entering from the distance, washing course and violent waves ashore; waves that slammed into the shore with a rage that consummed all.

What remained of the city seemed to rumble with furiousity as the plane neared Stadt. Even within the mansion, the sound of those screaming turbines was heard; heard to the extent that it began to hurt those who were more sound sensitive.


The plane landed, skidding to a hault at the end of The Red Queen carved out port that she cleared for the enterence of other diplomats who had arrived. It stood silently at the end of the runway, no one dramatically emerging from the plane immediately. The plane simply sat there, as if it had unforunately landed in enemy territory and was too afraid to move in case the enemy had not spotted them.


In the mean time, Levia gaved her prepartory speech, "We are now in Stadt des Meeres of The Dictatorship. It's not the most stable place, so you are all cautioned to be on your highest alert. Whatever happened here isn't fully known and we may be in for quiet the shock of our lifetimes.......we may just be walking into a massacre, a building full of dead bodies for all we know. If you are weak in the stomach, you are advised to stay back here with the pilots and your escorts. They are proficiently trained military personnel, so you will be safe if you choose to remain with them. As for those who are with me, follow me, and watch your step."

Turning her back from her guests, she walked toward the exit, stopping and waiting momentarily as the plane opened itself, lowering a flight of stairs to descend from. It was now or never; no turning back at this point. So cliche, she told herself, knowing well in advance what they were getting into before she even left A New Hope.

Taking one step down, she left the protection of the plane, venturing into unstable and uncertain grounds......an area where anyone could reign unseen.

Sass had no qualms with getting off the plane. She grabbed her pack, and followed Levia down the ramp and off the plane. She had set fire to her hotel room before she left, originating it in the computer and sending it through the walls to make it look electrical. In her pack, she had packed a bottle of blood clotters in a sock, and connected to her wrists were her weapons of choice. Metal plated, razor sharp fighting fans, the oldest weapon in Ferdinand Foch. She didnt look at anyone as she passed them, Travis, Madrius, and Elric. She didn't say anything at all. Faking laryngitis was working to a certain advantage, no one had questioned her motives for being here yet, and had thus far avoided conflict.

She remembered the flash of words on her computer screen. They were from in the conference room, right before the camera and sound went haywire, she had spent all night enhancing the grainy image until she could make out two words from the missive that was given to Levia by the secretary. The Red Queen. Corbin had mentioned as much, but what the Red Queen was, Sass didn't know. She couldn't clearly recall why she was here, she just was. So in lieu of showing people her bloody gums, residual effects from before the medication kicking in, she just stepped off the ramp into the barren chill of the Reich, hoping that she was doing the right thing, because damned if she knew.

Listening intently for a reply from the much abused man, Erzsebet heard him make what was somewhere between a groan and a gurgle. Shit she thought. What am I going to do?. There was no time it seemed, there was never any time. Everything had gone so completely wrong since the moment she had arrived. She struggled against her bonds. They were tight, tied well. And she couldn't see what she was doing.

"Ughhh." She heard Knut's voice as the man came to. He's probably bound in exactly the same way Erzsebet thought forlornly. It appeared that they would indeed die here if no one found them, which seemed likely. Either they would dehydrate to the point of death, with the nausea and pain that such a fate included, or perhaps they'd eventually perish from exposure to the elements.

After a minute of silence, Knut spoke, in a whisper. "Are they gone?" He expected a boot to the head, as likely this was some trick being played on them by their captors, cats playing with mice before finally tearing the life out of their prey. But no painful blow came, just the silence of wherever they were. His face ached, he was sure that some of his teeth had been chipped when he'd been struck. And there was a curious stinging sensation around his jaw, that seemed unrelated to the other pain.

"I think they are," Erzsebet replied somberly. Knut hadn't heard her voice so full of regret in years. And then she said why. "In my bloodlust, I fed on you while you were unconscious. I couldn't stop myself." Or, at least that was part of the reason. "No one stopped me, so I think they're gone. I know that I've terribly violated our trust, and I don't expect you to forgive me."

Donor-Moroii trust was as important as trust between lovers. Any violation of it was a very serious matter. Serious enough that friendships and even marriages had in the past been ended bitterly because of it. There was a definite stigma to being known to have broken the most vital of all rules in a donor-moroii relationship, that of consent to be fed from on the donor's part. There was a long silence before anyone uttered another sound. The wind whispered as it picked up and then dropped off, bringing back memories for the pair. "I would rather you do what you did than you suffer the pain and death that would happen otherwise." He would probably forgive her in time, though for now, their relationship was probably on hold. "Besides, I don't think you really took all that much. It's not like you killed me or anything. Just a little bite." That was him trying to rationalize to himself how it wasn't quite so bad. It's not so bad... he thought. It was bad, but after all, he wasn't dead, and he refused to believe that the woman he loved, his oldest friend, was a monster.

Erzsebet was near tears again, but for some reason, the last word resonated in her mind strangely. She was armed, a moroii was always armed unless they had their fangs pulled out. "Knut, can you roll over?" she asked quietly.

"Because we need to get out of here, and I finally thought of something," she said, wiggling over to him. "But I need you to roll over onto your stomach to do it."

It was only a second before Knut connected the dots, and then rolled towards Erzsebet onto his stomach. He felt her move her head on his back, trying to find what she was looking for. It probably would have been a hilarious scene if he could see anything. "Ouch." His hand had just been pricked.

"Sorry," Erzsebet said. "I can't see what I'm doing, but I think I'm almost done." There was a slight scratching sound as she worked. "Got it."

Knut then realized his hands were free. He reached up and took the blindfold off his head, opening his eyes while he stumbled to his feet. He looked down and saw Erzsebet kneeling on the ground, bits of rope on her mouth. She had bitten through the cord that had held his hands, of course. Even if one "disarmed" a moroii, even if one cut off all their limbs, they still had two razor sharp daggers.

Quickly he stooped down and untied Erzsebet's hands, at which point she promptly undid her own blindfold. She saw a dark room, and went over to the wall. It didn't take long to find the light switch, which, when she turned it on, didn't work. So she ran her hands along the wall until she found the door, which squeeled as she opened it, the light suddenly shining in through the hole making her squint. Her light-sensitive eyes preferred the dark. To her horror, she saw the wreckage of Nos, crumpled on the floor. "I'll stay here with Nos," she said, going over to the very injured man and cutting his bonds, then taking the blindfold off and easing him into a more comfortable position. "You go and get help." She then realized that she was the least fatigued of the three. "Wait, on second thought, you stay with Nos, I will go get help." At that moment, she heard a faint sound in the distance, which grew louder, presumably because it was getting closer. It soon became loud enough to recognize as the sound of jet engines. Their roar was so loud now that they were obviously very close, but then they made the unmistakable sound of being powered down. A plane had just landed, very nearby from the sound of it, and a plane meant that there were people as well.

When she went outside, she found to her surprise that she was still within Stadt, the front facade of the mansion looming up before her. She walked toward it. It appeared lifeless, the city looked lifeless in its entirety. War is such an ugly thing she thought as she began walking down the right side, setting a brisk pace whilst still beholding the devastation around her. Why do we do this to each other? Why?. She had a lot of time for reflection as she made her way down the right side of the mansion. There was not a single soul in sight. It was as if she were a tourist visiting ancient ruins, like the ones that occasionally came to her country to see the wrecks of ancient castles. Yet, all this was recent. This city had been standing not so long ago. Destroyed by war. Despite pondering for a long time, there was no real answer, no satisfactory answer to her question. She sighed, she had almost reached the back of the mansion by now. Her feet, though booted, were sore, the building was obscene in its scale. "Hello?" she shouted as she neared the back corner, the airstrip coming into view. Erzsebet's voice echoed across the emptiness.

Elric look around at the barren, blasted landscape as he descended the stairs from the aircraft. He had heard the reports about destruction, but the level of it amazed him.

He shrugged into his backpack cum briefcase and moved to join the small group of travellers as they gathered near Levia.

The voice carried loudly in the deadly silence that consummed The Dictatorship, even a simple word sounded like a yell. Levia's head throbbed with intensity at the unknown woman's voice, as she grabbed her head and yelled herself.

"Damn it! Would you keep it down? It's not like you need to yell to me!" Levia angerily finished, stepping into the open before Erzsebet's view.

She saw the woman's untidy appearence and frowned upon her. She had never met this woman before, nor was able to identity her from her looks. She could have been one of Genocide's soldiers, that or she was supporting The Reich. Levia looked around at the eerie silence that persued that very moment.....Stadt was never this quiet....it was worse then she even wildly imagined.

Sizing up the woman again, gathering enough from her appearence, disgusted that this woman had approached her in such a condition, with blood smeared over her and her clothing unkept, she scoffed silently in digust to herself. That was, until she rememebered her own unprofessional appearence, wishing now that she had showered before they had left; all she wanted to do was sleep before, now she would pay the price for her laziness.

"Who are you?" Levia asked angerily, frustrated that no one she had known had come to greet them; it must have meant dire news. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?"

Der Fuhrer turned to Richard and Damon, looking them in their eyes before a mischevious grin spread across her face.

"I believe we need to show these unwelcome visitors the true power of Der Fuhrer Dyszel."

Stepping outside of the doors to Mathias's bedroom, she stopped before going further. Looking down the vacant corridor, no men in sight, the sound of a few hushed conversations which she could tell were from the men who had held this place under seige, she ordered clearly and authoritatively, "Red Queen, purge Konigsreich der Mathias of these intruders."

The little girl apparated seemingly in thin air, a small young girl in a white dress with dark black locks of hair who bowed before Der Fuhrer before giggling and running off down the corridors. She jumped up onto the railing of the main staircase before sliding down it giggling, kicking her feet off at the bottom and landing with her arms outspread.

Like a plane, she veered left and right, running in crocked lines as she hummed and giggled, running every which way. She stopped before one of the men who held the crying C9 pinned against the wall kissing her ravenously.

"Mister, mommy says you're not supposed to be here," The Red Queen warning innocently, like a child tells someone doing wrong that they are not supposed to do it.

The Reich Freedom Fighter scoffed and pulled out his shotgun, firing a single round into the girl's head. The Red Queen shook her head, "That's bad. Mommy doesn't like bad people," she said, before a blinding red light came up behind the man, vaporizing him in a instant, the blast brushing past C9, sending her against the wall.

"Oh Red Queen......thank you," C9 whispered as tearing streamed from her face and she fell against the ground sobbing.

"Mommy's upstairs," she said before running off again, veering left and right terminating all Reich Freedom Fighters within the mansion's complex. Fading away, she reapparated in front of Der Fuhrer, who continued to stand before the door.

"All done mommy," The Red Queen said bowing again proudly.

"That's my girl. Well done," Der Fuhrer said with a nod, before turning back and walking back into Mathias's bedroom; The Red Queen running away into nothing giggling and proud of her job well done.


Der Fuhrer then looked to Richard and the rest of The Reich Freedom Fighters, "Taking him to the medical wing and get him help right now Richard of Adyndril. The rest of you men, if you so try another move, you will suffer the same fate as the others. Get the hell out of this room and do not let me see you again," she ordered, pointing out of the room.

Following Three One's lead, the men left the room, not turning back to face Der Fuhrer nor to look into her eyes. For the time being, they would have to follow her orders and just be glad that they were still alive. They killed an innocent woman today, nearly lost their leader, and were now in the hands of an enemy who despite not being as ruthless as The Reich Freedom Fighters, had the ability to destroy them all with one order, never having to fire her rifle to do so. For now, they would follow her orders.

Gathering in the foyer, waiting for Richard to return from taking Code Six to the medical facility, they contemplated their next plan, constantly stealing looks around the room for anyone who may be listening. The place gave them the creeps; it always seemed like someone was in there listening to them......it was too eerie this place.

When Travis strutted off of the plane, it was with renewed vigor. A healthy nap on comfortable airplane seats can rejuvinate a man comfortable with the experience. Not to mention, Artemis was here, and Travis' spirits hadn't been higher than this in a long time.

"Lovely place, innit?" Artemis asked in low tones, noting the barren environment that looked almost frozen in place.

"Ill bet it gets cold here at night, look at that," Travis said, pointing out into the horizon, beyond the gorgeous vegitation around the mansion, with scattered trees, and lush grass, "no plants taller than my knees."

Artemis looked to the ground and let out an exasperated sigh, before ending his giddy mood in a gruff voice, "cold's not the only thing that can cause that stunted growth boy. Did you see the city when we flew in?"

Travis' eyes opened up when he realized what Artemis might have been referring to. It had only taken a glimpse of the city while landing, highways without cars, buildings in various states of disrepair; it was like a ghost town, but on a huge scale, to cement his slight fear of this place. Stadt had a bit of a reputation in Adyndril, it was no fun finding a couple rumours true. If Der Fuhrer Dyszel really is 10 feet tall, and eats bears, im outta here.

A commotion on the mansion side of the plane led Travis and Artemis around to see what was going on. A shabby, rather pale looking woman had accosted the group. Upon closer inspection, Travis found a very sensuous looking woman. She looked deadly and helpless all at once, enveloping her in an air that made his jaw want to drop, but there was no way that Travis believed she was helpless all that often.. so there would be no funny business.

He contented himself with walking towards the front of the plane and listening in on Levia and this mysterious woman's conversation, much the same as everyone else nearby. The strange look on Levia's face only served to add to his slight anxiety.

Richard surreptitiously put his hands against the right side of his pants, trying to appear to brush at them after Der Fuhrer gave her orders. That frightening electronic beast had finally left them, so Richard felt more at ease. Her appearance brought about an end to all thoughts of how horrible it would be to carry Damon all the way to the medical wing, leaving a hint of actual relief in his system after she left.

With a look at Der Fuhrer, Richard supported Damon's hefty body weight against his back, the man's large arm over his neck. Damon began getting heavy after they had walked for almost half an hour, so when Richard spotted the gruesome, destroyed Freedom Fighter's remains on the floor, he struggled to keep the large man upright as suprise made Richard forget he was holding someone. Richard quickly grabbed the Freedom Fighter's gun and a handfull of bullets off of the ground, putting them in his coat picket across from his other firearm.

Throwing the medical wing door open with a bang, Richard meandered over to a medical table that he could lie Damon onto, which did not happen without quite a large amount of effort. With this, Richard collapsed onto a nearby waiting chair with his hands covering his face as a measure of exhaustion.

He pulled the clip out of his gun, and refilled it with 10 of the bullets he had just looted. Richard stood up and walked over to Damon, the man barely alive under the weight of blood loss.. infections had likely already begun appearing.. and no doubt the hollow points that these bastards used caused a lot of internal damage inside of his body. The absence of an exit wound was more than enough to convince Richard that quite a lot of damage had been done.

"So... im surprised at you Damon. You haven't died from internal bleeding yet. Strong man." Richard intoned to Damon quietly, "your mission seems to be completed."

He left his loaded gun on Damon's chest and walked out of the room, collapsing against a now familiar floor and resting his head on his knees.

Elric stared at the figure of the young woman Levia confronted. Dishevlled, dirty, seeming somewhat disoriented, she squinted against the sunlight.

Refugee? Survivor?

Since Levia obviously didn't know her, could she be a remnant of an invading force? She had apparently been out of the sunlight for quite some time, so had she been somehow trapped underground?

Was she dangerous? Elric saw no signs of a weapon, but in this strange place, virtually anything seemed possible.

Elric's hand slowly moved closer to the cargo pocket on his right side, his fingers touching the familiar outline of his personal weapon.

The entire situation in this hellish place would take every bit of focus and concentration he could muster.

Mathias felt the weight of his body being hoisted up from the ground, moved, relocated during the midst of fading in and out of consciousness. He could have swore he heard Genocide and Dante's voice; could have swore he heard a bullet wound, but he was too unsure of what was reality and delusions at this point.

His body was wasting quickly, the uprising of blood in his coughs, the blood streaming from his nose and mouth. He was trembling, his lungs straining to fill with oxygen, his heart fighting to pump the blood throughout his body. He could not move, his muscles having become so rigid and inflexible, tightening, in unbearable pain.....a pain he could not vocally express. Silently he lay with his intense pain and agony, silently he lay barely capable of breathing, silently he lay as his body began to cease trembling and it gave into the inevitable demise it was about to meet.

Powerless, hopeless, weak......all he could do was lay there as his body gave into the toxic effects of whatever the hell he was exposed to as it coursed through his vessels. Damn it..... he thought.....his mind focusing on that simple phrase that seemed to say it all.

He felt his body being lifted again, his breathing barely distinguishable, his heart beat so faint that he could not feel his pulse throb in his neck, barely recognizing that it was beating at all. Perhaps he was already dead; perhaps this was the afterlife....living in your dead body. He could not feel his heart beat, nor could he acknowledge if he was even still breathing. Maybe he was dead, but then why was his brain still working? How were his thoughts being lucidly spilled out?

He felt his body hit a hard cold surfaced; a clothed hard cold surface. It was covered with something. He was not sure how he knew this, his senses seemed to be dull and unreliable behind the dying of his body, he did not know how he could tell, perhaps it was the sound he heard rather then the feeling. Was he feeling? Could he feel the coldness of the surface, or had experience just filled his brain in with the thought that what he hit was a covered cold surface? He could not feel the cold, but how then did he know it was cold? Was he sane or insane? Was he dead or alive? All he knew for certain was that dead or alive, sane or insane, his thoughts were lucid, clear, functioning.

He heard the dulled sounds though, conversations being relayed back and forth among those within the room. He could not move though, could not breathe, could not force his heart to beat. He could not smell, could not see, could not feel, could not sharpen his hearing to understand what precisely was being said. The sound he heard next and the feeling of being enclosed were unmistakable.

Zipping.....

Loud dull zipping; the sound of metal prongs being forced into each other tightly as a seal merged them. The feeling of enclosure starting from his feet upward.

"NO!" his mind screamed, "DAMN IT! NO! NO! nooooo....." He tried to scream, kick, yell, anything. He could do nothing. He could not move, trapped within his personal casing, his personalized coffin, his prison.

"Let me see him," a cold dark bold voice spoke through the murmurs. "It's a shame......we could have used him."

"What? Who? I? Who? no....... I'm not dead yet. I'm not dead yet!" his mind raced, lucid, clear, racing faster then a car on a raceway.

"I'm not dead yet......."

"Is he gone?" the little girl's voice asked, quiet and timid sounding to Mathias, very distinguishable over the murmurs.

More murmurs. More undistinguishable sounds he tried to focus in on.

"Ah, good. Thank you. Please leave me for a moment and don't tell anyone I was here," she said seriously now, contrary to the overjoyous laughter his mind recalled from before.

When a few moments passed, Mathias heard unzipping, feeling the slight feeling of freedom. "Hey Mister Mathias Bortniansky. I'm not s'posed to be here, so I can't be long. I'm sorry I killed you. I didn't want to Mister Mathias.....I didn't want to....." her voice cracked, little droplets landing on his unflinching pale face. "He made me do it! You really don't understand! He made me do it! He made me do it! I didn't want to! He made me do it!" her tears fell more and more, her voice sobbing gasps in Mathias's head.

"Mister Mathias.....I have dreams about the past. He says they're just dreams that I made up, but I was kidnapped. I had a daddy Mister Mathias, and my daddy was locked in the same room as me. They tried to kill him and me. He didn't like me because I annoyed him at first, but then he learned I was his daughter. He tried to save me and was shot. I saw his face twist in pain as he collapsed. He ordered us to go on without him Mister Mathias. A dark lady helped my daddy. I was pulled forward by my arm. I saw my daddy on his knees and heard gunshots. He looked up at me; he was so sad Mister Mathias. He was so sad Mister Mathias..... And then the dark lady took me. My daddy wasn't with her Mister Mathias.....he was gone. The dark lady took me, but then they were captured. And I was kidnapped. He tells me that I have no daddy; that my daddy hated me and abandoned me. He tells me that I hate my daddy. And I do because he tells me to. If I don't hate my daddy, he'll hit me Mister Mathias. He hurts me Mister Mathias. That's why I accidentially killed you Mister Mathias. I didn't me to......he hurts me. I'm sorry Mister Mathias, please forgive me. I'm really sorry Mister Mathias. I hate.......................NO! SORRY! It's not! NO!" the words cut out.

Murmurs, scruffling, cursing, a hit, cries, more cursing.

"Damn it child! Can't you do a fucking thing right!" the cold voice grew angry.

"I'm sorry......" the girl whimpered, "I never saw a dead body before....."

"Shut the fuck up! Get out of here and go to your room stupid child!" the cold voice yelled.

"I'm going. I'm going! No, don't hit me! I'm going!" the girl pleaded, the sound of a loud strike, more cries, "I'm going....."

Murmured curses.

Silence.

The silence continued for a long time. Time to time murmurs and muffled sounds filled his head, but it was predominately silence that followed the event that either he indirectly just witnessed or had dreamt up. Maybe this was all a dream.....maybe......hopefully......he hated when children were brought into a war; he hated when children were beaten.

His muscles tensed, growing rigid, spasming and tightening in an intense pain he could not vocally express. His back arched, the zipper unduing itself as his body spasmed, freeing itself from it's black enclosed prison.

He began to shake again, shake and tremble uncontrollably. It took a while before the room started to remerge from darkness. Dull and blurred at first, but it grew more vivid and recognizable. He felt weak and tired, his muscles relaxing more, his lungs spasming then relaxing and taking in more air, his heart contracting more forcefully.

"What the hell just happened?" he asked himself, realizing that he was now laying in a heap in a body bag. He pulled himself up, looking around the empty room. There was no other black bags set out filled. He was the only one. He looked at his hands, blood stained, trembling, with broken wrists. He was alive.....but had he died in the first place?

Now was not the time to think about it though; using his remaining feeble strength, he pushed himself off of the table, his feet too weak to support him. He was still clothed in his blood stained and torn uniform, still in his shoes.....they hadn't prepped his body yet. His body stumbled forward, catching itself on a cart of surgical embalmatory tools. He would need this to get of there as fast as he could.

Leaning on the cart, it moved with ease, not making a loud squeel of movement as he had expected it to do so. Allowing his weakened body to set the pace as it fell forward, pushing the cart with it, he stumbled his way out of the doors that pushed open with a loud cling as the cart forced them open. With no idea where to go, he turned left, hoping for just some luck in his life. He needed to get to Dante......Dante needed to know.....

The maximum security complex would be nearly impossible to break into, yet alone to free Dante from. "What the hell was I thinking? Mathias's mind momentarily wondered as he pushed himself down the corridors that lead to seemingly no where. There was no way he would be able to get Dante free, especially not in his condition....not anymore.

Voices were heard behind him, he slid into darkened shadow of the corner, the pillar hiding him, the moonlight creeping through. He wondered if the voices had heard him, but when he saw that they were apparently fixated on something else, all fear and anxiety left him. They were whispering, hushed whispers not intended to be overheard by anyone. As a result, Mathias could not pick up the words clearly from what these voices were saying.

They moved into his field of vision now, looking down the corridor before running and slipping into the pillar next to his own. They collected there, sliding around almost right next to Mathias, who struggled to control his heavy breathing.

"Alright, we need to make this quick and without much blood shed. You take the guards, I'll crack the damn code, and you two work on keeping them off our asses," the voice sounded quietly, conspiratory, hushed and whispered briefly, saying no more then necessary.

The men started to move one at a time, sneaking past Mathias down the corridor further, clandestine as they moved between shadow and light.

"Hear that?" one whispered from the pillar, the rest freezing in their positions, raising their weapons strategically, covering all of their vulnerable points that were exposed. The man who heard the noise, brought his gun up, looking down the corridors suspiciously. "Someone's here. I heard breathing," the man said, moving slowly closer to Mathias, his gun pointing rapidly up and down the corridor.

Aware that fighting would do him no good, Mathias stepped forward, his legs shaking, and his breathing more labored. He shook his head no, hoping to convey that he was of no threat to these men. The man who had heard him brought his gun to this man, the others not moving their aims or poises, trained professionals.

"Who are you?" the man asked, pointing his gun toward Mathias's face, whispering quietly still. "And don't be loud."

Mathias again shook his head slowly, feeling dizzy and light-headed from the movement. He tried to put his hands up, but felt his legs too weak to hold him properly.

"Who are you?" the man asked again, less patient then before and more urgent then ever.

Mathias lifted his head as far as he could, hoping despite the darkness they could see the thick scar from ear to ear, hoping that would acknowledge this as his lack of response.

"What?" the man said, stepping closer. "What the hell are you doing? Are you some kind of retard?" He looked at Mathias, the little light illuminating the corridors providing just enough light for the man to see the scar.

"Hey guys, I don't think this guy can talk. He's cut up pretty bad. There appears to be a huge scar along his throat," the man whispered to the rest.

"Kill him," one of them ordered quickly, wishing they could just get out of that corridor. "We don't have much time."

"Wait," an old ominous voice joined them from the darkness. "Let me see him first," he said, the man moving out from the younger men into the light. He pulled the cart supporting Mathias forward, Mathias consequently stumbling with him into the moon light. He scrutinized Mathias hard, taking Mathias's face in his own hands and turning it left and right and up and down, looking for indications of something the others could not figure out.

"He's not to be harmed," the old man said. "It's General Bortniansky. He's a Reich man.....no doubt imprisoned by Genocide as well. I'm not going to ask you how the hell you got out of your cell, but you better stick with us if you want to live. You look pretty banged up, we'll get you out of here too. You don't deserve to die by the hands of this child or her pathetic army. I've always respected you as an adversary; men of honor are respected among my men," the old man finished, nodding in acknowledge to Mathias. "Move along men, I'll take him with me. We'll meet you in no more then twenty five minutes at the landing. Go now, be quick. Good luck," his gruff coarsened voice finished as the men surreptitiously slid away down the corridor.

Assisting Mathias, he pushed aside the table of tools, and slid Mathias's arm around his shoulder, supporting Mathias's waist with the other. "Old man, it's been a long time," the man laughed..... "But you haven't seemed to age a day. Still the same dark eyes, dark youthful hair, face, and that scar hasn't changed either," the man spoke as he guided Mathias down a corridor that was pitch black.

"Now, I know you don't know me, we haven't officially ever met before. I'm General Diehl, of those remaining loyal to Dante. You only know me as one of his Elites. We've had some amazing spares between us during the war.....brilliant mind you have. Now, since we are both me of honour, I'm helping you. I trust you'd have done the same; in fact, I know you would have. Afterall, you helped Dante out on many occasions. Good man you are.....good man....," he dwindled in himself, a moment of nostalgia passing over him. "Well, we're almost there, hold on old man, you're looking pretty weak. Now I know you can't speak, but just don't die on me. We're almost there."

They arrived outside of the complex ten minutes later, the sound of crickets chirping loudly, almost welcoming their arrival. A thick heavy forest stretched out into the night, it's undergrowth reaching out lazily into a large stream that quietly idled in the night. The crickets sang loudly, dancing to their song of midnight grace interrupted intermidtedly by the sound of a cicadea or another creature of the night. The man helped Mathias into a small canoe, setting him inside of it before himself climbing in.

"Look there," he said, pointing to the opened window, the bright light shining out. "That's Genocide.....she's out of bed. She goes there a lot late at night....sits staring out the window sometimes for an hour. She's really just a lost girl Mathias; it's not her fault that she was given all this power. She just needs a mother and a father......hopefully we can arrange that for her," Diehl finished as Genocide came to the window, holding a small bear and staring out into the night. She appeared to be praying, looking the sky for some sort of answer, a sky so pristine you could count all of the stars in it.

"No wonder why Dante loved this place so much...."

The sirens sounded, loud and blarring, cutting into the serene night like a blade through a bambo shoot. Lights were turned on almost immediately in all the rooms, doors automatically sealing themselves, windows sealing too. Genocide fled her window, disappearing amid the brightness of the mansion.

"Ten minutes...." Diehl said nervously.....there was nothing more to say; nothing more to do. All they could do was sit and wait, and hope to whatever God that they believed in that the men would be there in ten minutes.

The sunlight shone brightly upon Erzsebet's pale features as she squinted at the the few people who she had found the good luck to encounter. Just seeing another person in this desolate panorama was such a relief to her that she smiled, as her mind refused to contemplate the possibility of them being unfriendly.

Her pace quickened slightly, walking towards the small group. "My apologies for yelling" she said when fairly close to them. The look of relief on her face revealed that the hiss in her voice did not suggest hostility, it was simply how her vocal cords were built. "I am Admiral Erzsebet Sorvik, Callisdrunian Navy." Looking down, she sighed as she realized how dirty and beat up she was. Her long black coat hung open, and the front of her field uniform (a very simple dark blue affair) was dirty and torn in places, and on her skin were dust and scrapes.

"I was sent here by my government, some time ago," she said quietly. "My command is the First Cruiser Squadron, which is the smaller of the two groups of warships in the area. Along with commanding the battle cruisers, I was ordered to represent Callisdrun in regional matters," she looked down at the ground before continuing, "a duty that I am ashamed I have done a very poor job in carrying out." Clearly, she wasn't kidding when she said she was ashamed. The wind kicked up, flapping her open coat and her jet black hair about in its gust. "There was a series of confusing events, including the city being suddenly bombed, Der Fuhrer leaving and then returning and finally disappearing, I do not claim to understand this place." Her speech had the tonal characteristics of coming from someone who was both physically and emotionally exhausted, almost as if she were reading an obituary out loud, after reading several dozen beforehand.

She looked back up at them, though only slightly. "And that brings me to why my appearence is as it is," she said, sighing. "I and two others were recently taken prisoner by unknown captors. They somehow snuck up behind us, and when I woke up, I found myself bound and blindfolded. One of them interrogated me, in my own language." By the look of alarm in Erzsebet's eyes, this was no small feat. Callisdrunian was a language almost impossible for foreigners to learn, let alone be able to speak with the precision that the man who had questioned her had. "The other two with me were Knut Tveitan, a battleship captain, and Noskalenaeuroph, whose exact job title I do not know. I don't know why, but they appear to have suddenly abandoned us. They knocked Knut and I unconscious before leaving, though I woke first, due to being afflicted with the thirst. They shot Noskalenaeuroph, which is why I would please like you to come help now." Her speech had grown faster as she got towards the terrifying recent events, and she lost her concentration enough for her English to be noticiably shaky by the end. Despite the ever present moroii hiss in the backround of her voice, her tone at the last could best be described as pleading. In her mind, Erzsebet had only herself to blame for her and her friends' plight. She would not cry again, not in front of these new people. Or so she hoped.

Levia nodded as a fatigued Erzsebet led their group past the expanse of the mansion and down the hill, weaving around the fallen structures and rubble that now composed Stadt des Meeres. Levia stared in silence at the devastation spread before her, stretching all the way to what would have been the glistening ocean spread along the farside of the city. Countless times she had heard The Dictatorship referred to as the desolate wasteland; now, as the eradicated city spread it's fallen wings of destruction as far as she could see, she finally understood what they had meant.....an entire nation of nothing but landmarks that lay beneath fallen buildings, remenants of something that once stood proud and strong.

They approached a fallen structure amid the rubble, a small house that appeared to be an abandoned barn or old wooden house; stooping beneath the collapsed support beams, Erzsebet led them mechanically to the sight, appearing to be in a daze to Levia. Levia observed this woman from behind, watching this woman's every movement and the way she knew almost exactly where they were going. Either this Erzsebet woman was telling the truth about what had happened or she was playing the damsel in distress to lure them out this far in order to ambush them without protection. Levia motioned for the rest of the group to stay outside, to not move further. If it was an ambush, she would not bring these willing guests into it.

It was cool and damp down where Erzsebet was leading her, musky smelling of mildew and rotting wood. No sounds beside what appeared to be dripping water somewhere and the occassional creak of the wooden structure above the basement complex of this building. The basement was untouched by the devastation, with the exception of dust and dirt strewn about the stairs and ground. It was dark, too dark to see clearly in front of her. Grabbing her clutch, she searched for her phone and opened it, illuminating the basement structure. Erzsebet led her around the room, periodically informing Levia to watch her step or to reassure Levia that they were almost there and to hurry before it was too late. They stepped inside the room, a dark metallic iron based smell filled her nostrils, the scent burning her memory.....blood..... She took a step back, grabbing one of the button like objects from her clutch and holding it before her, the phone she held dropping to the ground, snapping shut in the process....the light ceasing.

"What the hell is this Erzsebet? If you think you're going to take us down that easy like you did the rest of them, think again! You lying sack of shit!" she yelled at Erzsebet, holding the small button object before her as if it were a handgun. "Red Queen.....activate and stand by," Levia spoke to her fallen phone, the phone connecting with recognition to Red Queen's operating system. Speaking through the darkness to Erzsebet, the strong scent of blood still transfixed in her nostrils, she lowered her voice to a cold menacing threat, "So help me you don't explain yourself this instant," the anger and aggitation filling her voice, "I'll have you destroyed in the blink of an eye."

Only rarely did anyone break the oppressive silence that hung over the remains of the city as Erzsebet led them to where her comrades were. Occasionally the wind came up in gusts, but that noise only served to bring one's attention to the fact that on their entire journey, they heard not one sound from a living thing. On the road in a slight shadow, Erzsebet saw the glint of metal and walked over to it. If her fellow former captives were not wounded, she would have been gleeful to discover that their captors had discarded her axe by the road, next to some rubble. However, she simply picked it up and put it back in its familiar place on her belt, saying nothing.

Once to the building, she only slowed a little as she led the woman who appeared to be the leader of the group down into the basement. Erzsebet found it odd that the woman left her companions outside, but didn't think much of it as she carefully made her way back into the building with the aid of the light of the woman's phone. They were near the room where Nos and Knut were when the woman unexpectedly dropped it and threatened her.

Erzsebet sighed like one grown weary of humans and their actions. This woman's prejudices against her for having fangs were going to end up costing Nos his life, most likely, and chances were high that because of her assumption that Erzsebet was an enemy, she would end up killing her as well.

Turning around, she spoke in a calm voice that was someone annoyed. "If I was planning on killing you, I would have attempted to do so before. Why would I kill you, anyway? I don't even know who you are. I came to you out of necessity; we needed help and you were the first person I saw." If the woman did kill her, the more cynical part of Erzsebet's mind hoped she would encounter Der Fuhrer Dyszel, who would hopefully recognize her name. After a moment of silence, Erzsebet continued, now sounding slightly annoyed. "Well, pick up your phone, please. My eyes may be suited to dark conditions, but they still need at least a little light to see, so I'm just as blind as you are." She knew that the woman was probably listening for any sound of movement, and Erzsebet made no moves, simply letting time pass silently while the woman stood there, making it more and more obvious that she wasn't going to do anything. "Please pick it back up and open it. I can't see, and I know you can't either. I think Nos and Knut are in this next room, where we were interrogated." She did not understand why the woman's behavior had changed so abruptly. Time was probably running out for Nos, and while the man seemed unstable and not pleasant at times, the fact that his death would be on her hands weighed heavily on Erzsebet's mind. She was growing impatient with this woman.

A lone oak leaf, ensconsed in permeable shadow, struggles to reach the sun. The wind howls at the loss of another link in the elegant chain.

The wind picked up ever so slightly.. this wind felt like change, but not in a good way. Artemis sighed with impatience at being left behind. He looked over to Travis, who had that slight, permanent scorn on his face. I wish the boy had taken my advice and gone into the military for a while before tackling politics.

'You stay here,' Artemis flashed a quick hand signal in Travis' direction out of eyesight of the group. A widening of Travis' eyes indicated that Travis hadn't forgotten everything he had been taught.

Artemis continued flashing signals when he knew Travis was able to communicate, 'I follow leader, you watch allies. Aye?'

The younger man shook his head in acquiescence, so Artemis casually walked off in the direction that Levia and the pale Callisdrunian woman had gone.

--

It grew dark as Artemis followed the trail taken by Erszebet and Levia.. with the coming of night, his assumptions about the weather were beginning to sound more and more like prophesy. The frigid night air was dropping in temperature quickly, and with the subtle breeze, had already penetrated Artemis' light coat.

A voice was clearly heard in the dark. It belonged to that Callisdrunian woman, Erszebet. Artemis thought intolerantly, Women... a deaf man could hear them from a hundred yards! She sounded annoyed, instead of worried and grateful, and immediately, Artemis could not trust her.

A chill of foreboding wound its way down his spine as if he were about to take a bullet in the back.

"Freeze."

With the advent of another night in the desolate Reich, we find ourselves on the outskirts of Mathias' mansion. A younger man raises his arm slowly and presses two pounds of steel into the back of a greybeard.

"Freeze."

"Very funny, put your fucking knife away and dont be a dumbass," the older man whispered vehemently, avoding at all costs being prematurely discovered by their female accomplice from the upper Reich crust, and what appeared to be another toadie for her collection. "Why the fuck are you here?"

The younger man twirled the knife around so that the point was briefly pointed at the back of Artemis' head before sheathing his weapon, "Because.. those people back there are being boring. Discussing things of little consequence, and I wasn't going to leave you alone with that horrible wench and the oddly vivacious looking woman with her.. Ill tell you what, I'd like to..."

The old man walked over whatever sort of travesty of the English language that the boy planned to finish with, "stay here, and watch my back damn it. This time, listen."

There was a faint smell of blood in the air, "like a damned copper," he whispered, referring to the smallest unit of coinage in Adyndril. Hmm... Artemis got suddenly serious with the realization that all might not be as it seems. A slight breeze wafted away the smell.

With that, Artemis walked into the small cottage, ignoring the blood, before saying to the two women in a faux disappointed whisper once they noticed his presence, "are you two fine young ladies bickering in what could be enemy territory? And you, Erszebet, don't sound like a woman who needs help."

He quickly addressed Levia immediately afterwards in his casual tone of speaking, "I would like to help myself, in any possible capacity, but its my opinion that we need to know everything we can about what we're about to dive into, m'lady, before we accidentally swan dive into a pile of horse shit."

Artemis smiled.. a hint of a thing that barely reached his eyes.

"Orders?"

Bright lights illuminated him; shielded beneath at least two inch thick impenetrable tempered glass. Darkness was his home, darkness made up his life.....this light burned his eyes, burned his skin, burned down to the depths of his soul. Held at bay by the diminishing strength of his weakening body, the anger nipped slightly at the surface causing him to toss and turn now and then from his position on the hard tiled surface. Behind those glass doors, Dante lay again, his body pressed tightly against the floor unable to pull itself up.

He was bleeding still, heavier now after being shot by the guards for his disruptive behavior. He threatened that damn girl's safety and for his actions, he would have to lay in this cell for longer, his clothing soaking up his own blood. He groaned unconsciously in pain; stabs of white light running through his mind behind the blur of chaos. He could not think straight nor put the fuzzy images flashing here and there together to form a picture. Bodies without faces encircled him, laughed, cried, begged for lives; none of it made the slightest bit of sense to him.

Feet rustled outside his cell, brushing hard against the floor; he heard the rushed and hurried steps of what was supposed to be people trying to be stealthily or guards pacing on their rounds, passing by for a cigarette when they thought no one would notice. He used the rage to fill him, allowed it take control, to overcome him, to feed him and in a moment, he managed enough strength in the form of a beastly grunt as he pushed himself onto his side to look out the door.

"Damn kids," he cursed the young unprofessional soldiers that Genocide was harnessing.

He saw two men with knives rather than the sloppy careless soldiers of Genocide's Guards. They slammed a guard against his cell wall, one slitting his throat as the other stabbed the man between his ribs. He fell to the ground as soon as the men let him go; Dante watching with faint interest. If it was a coup these men were attempting, it was rather pathetic to begin in the prison.

"Finished," the man who stabbed the guard's heart said to small transmitter attached to his ear.

They waited just a brief moment before a menacing hiss sounded, calling out to them ominously......go away.... The lights cut almost immediately after, filling Dante's cell with a welcoming darkness. He closed his eyes and embraced it; the first real darkness he could remember in a long while. It was silent, dark, with the smell of blood in the air.....with his eyes closed he grinned, content with his new founded prison. Maybe, after all, those pathetic fools trying to throw a coup were not so bad....they brought him home.

And as soon as he relaxed into his darkness, he was wrenched from it. Strong arms and hurried steps pulled him from his relaxed position with his back on the ground, his face up into the darkness, his arms spread out behind him supporting his head. And with the snap of a finger, it was gone; he was on his feet, being carried like an addict on his way to jail. He tried to struggle, but the strength had long left him; the rage subsiding beneath it's sheeted darkness. The rage slid quickly, away from him, away from his control, away into the darkness......he wanted it back.

Slumping forward with the ever retreating rage, the men struggled to support his increasing weight.

"Damn! He's getting heavier. We need to hurry!" an unidentified voice next to his ear spoke.

The entered a small tight corridor, the steps of many joining them, the cramped cool air wafting up among them all. Stomping boots surrounded them on all sides, storming around like stallions in an open range.

The sirens sounded then, blaring loudly, seeming to call for them to stop. They blared with intensity, loud piercing shrieks pounding inside his head. Dante groaned unconsciously in pain again, the sound of those sirens not helping his condition at all. His head was immediately snapped back from behind and a cloth inserted, wrapped around his head tightly by another shred of cloth. He mustered the strength to open his eyes with his hair held tightly in someone's hand pulling his head back. But all he saw was darkness and the same constricting feeling around his mouth now around his eyes. They let go of his head, the room seeming to grow hotter as his breath grew heavier....it took him a moment to realize that they had placed something over his head.

"Just in case......He doesn't need to see this," one of the men said.

Several silenced shots, puffs of compressed gases, sounded intermittingly between the blaring sirens which seemed to fade and fade along their journey. His mind grew heavy and tired, his breathing hot within his enclosed containment.....the anger and rage gone, overtaken by a tired and fatigued apathy.

The quieting sirens opened up to the sounds of crickets and rushing water. It was cooler to his skin out here, but his head was still hot within the damn bag they placed over it. He wished he could try to shake it off, but his body would not comply as it was hurdled into the sound of rushing water. He hit something hard, something wooden, pushed down hard and forcefully against the smooth wood. He heard the unmistakable sound of the clinking of metal, felt his body lifted then tightly constricting along his shoulders, waist, and ankles.

"Just incase.....we don't know want to take any chances...." the same man spoke. To whom? Dante had not the faintest idea.

He felt the wooden prison release from its stationary position, drifting freely along, slow at first, but gaining speed. Then he felt something heavy strike his head.....a fading consciousness pursuing.

Elric had walked behind Levia as she followed the disheveled young woman into the darkness. He maintained a discrete distance, but close enough that he could come to Levia's aid should the need arise.

He spared himself a moment's musing once again on the strangeness of this place, then reapplied all his focus on what was going on around him. The darkness reeked of decay, destruction, blood and death. He half-listened to the dialogue between Levia and the young woman while he extended his perceptions in ever-widening circles.

Suddenly he tensed slighly. There were other people here; at least two men from the sounds of their whispered conversations. Keeping his perhiperal awarenes active, he focused a bit more on the men, presumably in another room. There was tension in their voices, but no readily apparent hostility.

Backing slowly until his backpack brushed the wall behind him, Elric prepared himself for a wide variety of responses to concievable threats.

This was going to be interesting.

Levia did not move, contemplating the truth behind this woman's words. They had never met prior to this moment.....could Erzsebet be trusted? She had already once been attacked recently, nearly killed in the process. This woman might just very well be working for the same person who had tried to kill her, if it was in fact a planned event. Or was that man just a regular bum?

Anger grew inside of her, frustrated with the current situation. She could not think clearly after her assualt....her head hurt and she just wanted to drink and forget that any of this had happened. Drowning the pain would be all to easy right now.....all too easy.

She wanted that drink....that bottle of sweet tasting rum biting lightly at her lips as it made its first contact. She wanted it more than she had wanted to shoot this arrogant woman for speaking to her in the tones that she just had. "Damn bitch," she thought, briefly, dismissing the thought from her head sooner then she could blink.

"If you were to harm me, you'd be killed. I'll pick up my phone, but I've activated a system that is linked to my life and when it's terminated this system will destroy you and any other pathetic fools who might attempt to kill me or my party," Levia cautioned, slowly placing the small button shaped object back into her clutch and stooping down ever so slowly to grab the phone she had dropped. Opening it, the light flooded the room again, revealing the identity of the man who had just spoken to them both.

Through the darkness, he appeared to be older, middle aged....maybe slightly older. It was too hard to see for sure his entire figure, but he was average in size.....slightly imposing, possibly a threat.

Turning quickly to Erzsebet, she sharpened her glare. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" she cursed, the need for her beloved alcohol rising again. "If there is someone dying, can we just move on? And if you are planning on killing me, get it over with already! Assholes!" she snapped, nearly smashing her phone onto the floor in her fit of rage.

Daniel Wilberforce had been sitting in his office for several days. He knew that the mission would be entirely unsuccesful in that the elements would obviously get to those men first. Six months ago, he sat in the very same office bouncing with eagerness to jump into the war. It had taken its toll on him and the nation. 4,693 Soldiers had been airlifted into the fronteir near Stadt but none seemed to be alive at all. In one corner of his lavish office, a pile of hate mail sat covered by several Royal Popeleoman Postal bags and several empty cartons of cigarettes. His shallow cheeks seemed to sink further every time he breathed in. His sunken eyes wandered dizzily from the bottle of Absinthe toppled on his desk to the mammoth sized leather couch. He stood up, wobbling and slightly tipsy. He clutched his desk as he stumbled over empty and half full bottles strewn over the great carpet. He came to one of the old oak filing cabinets lined up against one wall and fumbled with his keys. After shoving 8 different keys into the awkward slot he managed to fumble the toggle open. He sneezed. Reaching deep into the drawer, he pulled out an old, wrinkled paper bag. The bag clattered to the floor reavling its contents upon the floor. The desk intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Wilberforce? Is everything allright?" came a crinkled voice.

Sweeping around in a great circle, he crashed onto the floor. Crawling on all fours to the desk, he reached for the button.

"Yes Miss.... Ains... Ainsworth"

He let go the button and started to sob. He started at the Webley revolver and the few cartridges that scattered about the floor when he dropped the bag. Crawling back, he feebly broke open the revolver and placed 5 cartridges inside it. He stood up, this time with more serious intent. He stood, rocking on the balls of his heels. He stared at the mess that was his office. He knew it was his fault for sending those two thousand plus men to their obvious death. He wiped his eyes on his dirty shirt sleeve and lurched to the window. A teenager in the park started to pitch rocks and rattled the window panes. Daniel jumped back startled obviously scared. He pushed open the window and took drunken aim at the teen. He fired. A miss. Staggering back, he pushed the button on his desk to lock the double doors from the inside. He shuffled back to the window under sobs and took aim at a police officer standing at the door of his building. The officer collapsed like a sheet falling from the ceiling onto the floor. The light indicator on his wall showed that the first door had been opened. A loud thumping filled the room. He withdrew from the window and stared at the door. It seemed to shake with every thump. He could hear the voice of men behind the door working feverishly with srenches and an arc torch. He shook his head and sat back onto the floor. He grabbed a half full bottle of absinthe and took one last drink. He shoved the warm gun barrell into his mouth. The door burst open and he fired. Blood was everywhere. Sprayed across the desk, wall and portrait of the king.

Officers searched the room and looked through Wilberforce's papers. Nothing led to this untimely suicide. But one thing was certain. The war was over for Popeleoma Del Signe.

Artemis did a double-take and clipped his response, unsure of how to handle the situation from this point. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Levia in some sort of extreme distress, and she seemed as on edge as a long time cigarette smoker, hours without their poison. Artemis suddenly regretted following her to this site, but it was a necessary measure.

He paused and spoke again, more cautiously and with a higher tone of respectfulness, "Madam Levia, I rode in with you on the plane; Artemis, at your service, for Adyndril and the Reich. Anyone who would kill you must get through me first."

He bowed with a formality that brought his middle aged body parallel to the floor. As Artemis rose, he met Levia's eyes once again, and saw her struggle bleeding through her pained facial expression.

Walking on eggshells sounded like an apt idiom to describe his next few hours with the leader of his latest expedition.

Hardened by the death of Destiny, Der Fuhrer slowly stood up from kneeling at the bedside where she had laid Destiny. They would hold a proper burial for her.....the entire Reich would be informed. Destiny would not have died in vain.

Der Fuhrer closed her eyes and turned to the now empty room, with the exception of Anna. Looking in one of the wall length mirrors of Mathias' bedroom, she observed herself clearly for the first time since she arrived back from the "dead."

Her figure had become more tenuous, less shapely, less alive. Her once vibrant eyes that spoke volumes had dulled into a dark glare of coldness. Her once sun-touched skin was now blanche and pale from the lack of exposure to any light for far too long. Her face that had once stood strong and confident was now dampered with the strain and stress of prolonged abuse and hopelessness. She tried to muster a smile, but the smile was physically impossible to manifest upon her features. She looked cold and hard, beaten down by years of intense battles.....oddly, even after years of intense front line fighting, the damage had not appeared on her face until now.....until now after she had spent so much time being abused within a confined area, a captive in an allied nation.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. She could never again become the leader The Reich had loved. She could no longer provide the reassurance that they needed to overcome their difficulities. For too long she had been gone to her people; and with her return now, she brought marks of war so deeply engrained into her features that one would doubt her ability as an effective leader.

She stared and her body, exposed beneath the white shirt she had stolen. She found the glasses that she had taken from one of The Reich Freedom Fighters and covered her eyes again. An element of a surreptiously cunning mein overtook her. No longer was the decaying life in her eyes visible. She managed a half grin; a grin that made her look overly sure that they would destroy their enemies. Limping over to Mathias's closest, she searched for one of her uniforms. Finding nothing but an all black uniform of an unidentified Reich personal, she slipped it on. Looking back into the mirror, she now saw the strength that she believed to have been lost. An element of fear had surrounded her new look.....black uniform, dark shades, half grin. She had almost become a Reich Freedom Fighter in front of that mirror.....she had, in essence, placed herself within the best facade she could manage.

Slinging her rifle onto her back, she left the room, walking painfully, but with confidence. "You will now face the wrath of The Dictatorship," she spoke aloud, speaking to her unseen foes....speaking threats to those who dared oppose her rule. She was tired of their games; she was tired of the needless deaths; she was tired of the betrayals....tired of the pathetic fools who spoke of alliances to The Reich. Now, she would restore The Reich to it's former glory, even if it meant destroying herself in the end.

Her mission....to find Dante, to bring back Mathias's body, to end Genocide's war, to provide rememberance to those who loyally supported The Reich, with Destiny's funeral as one of the highest perogatives.

Standing atop the stairs, she looked down, the reflective shades show the reflections of The Reich Freedom Fighters. Her voice sounded strong and authoratitive, "Listen to me now. You will prepare a flight out of here. I heard a plane arrive not too long ago. You are to procure this plane for The Reich's use. We are going to make an official statement."

Menacingly, she stood there watching as The Reich Freedom Fighters one by one left the mansion. With her plan in motion, she nodded to herself in approval. She would scout the mansion now and see what was salvagable and who was left to join her cause.

Mustering her strength, Admiral Hunny*Dew managed to pull herself up, opening her eyes to the darkened enclosed space she had been wedged into. She appeared to be in a closed confined space.....walls closing in around her.

Shuddering, she struggled to recall her memories of the events that had unfolded before her. Nothing came to mind. All she could remember was darkness. The darkness enclosed her......walls collapsing around her.

Breathing heavily, her heart rapidly beating....walls crumbling over her. Overwhelmed, she pushed herself forward, surging forth over layers of inhibitory objects that she cared not to discover the true identities of. Dead bodies? Collapsed pillars? Carcasses of animals? The unconscious bodies of allies? She pushed the thoughts from her head and she slammed into a hard surface....hollow.....a door perhaps.

Feeling around, sliding her hands up and down the surface, she located the cold hard nob and twisted it until it gave. Tumbling forward, she landed sprawled out upon the hard wooden floor. She cried with relief, tears streaming down her face as she sobed heavily on the floor, curling in a balls in hopes of alleviating some of her overwhelming fear and panic.

She wanted Der Fuhrer to be here; Der Fuhrer with her rifle, standing stationary in the corner of that room. She wanted Mathias there; Mathias holding her in his protective arms as she lay there crumpled on the floor. That is all she wanted....all she would ever ask for.

The tears continued though, draining her energy rapidly. She was alone; she knew this.....the cold empty feeling of the room was enough to tell her that her wishes were fruitless, Der Fuhrer and Mathias were both gone, both long gone, taken by the hands of enemies she would now be forced to fight on her own. Could she do it? Could she handle them all? Could she soley command an entire military? The thoughts overwhelmed her....again, the sensations of the collapsing heavy walls fell on her. She let out a loud cry for help....it was all she could manage in her state of mind.

"Dante, you really need to stop. Please.....don't do this....." her voice sounded, quiet, elusive, almost timid in the empty room.

"My queen..." he struggled.....his breath catching too quickly to signify anything good.

Clouded by the darkness the face in front of him became clearer, moving toward, taking his hand in her's. She smiled weakly at him, the sounds of footsteps rushing closer.

'Why?' the question loomed in the air, hanging heavily above....a storm about to break....about to release its subtle devastation upon the world.

The pain in his abdomen was fresh, unrelenting, searing.....burning into him with all of the intensity that an inferno could wreak on one defined area. Blood surfaced into his mouth as he fought with all his might to keep it down and he couldn't even manage a weak smile in his current condition. The heavy smell of alcohol infused in their nostrils, mixing with the subtle hint of a metal, a liquid metal spilling all around them. The shot was clean through his abdomen though, a small round bullet hole proudly marking its enterance into his body through his uniform. Still he bled heavily; bled intensely.....bled internally.

The gunshot still hung in the air; ringing even though it was many moments ago that it was fired while the weapon sat just out of his reach on the floor. The footsteps sounded outside the door and he breathed a sole deep apprehensive breath.....it was over for him. The knob turned, the door burst open.

"DANTE!"

Beads of sweat ran down his brow; it was hot, far too hot for Dante to comfortably breathe.....dark and hot; his breath heavily coming and going. He tried to see what was about him.....nothing......tried to move.....couldn't.......tried to speak.....silence. It was too hot and stuffy, too hot and dark. He couldn't breathe; felt as if he were enclosed in a coffin. He tasted the saliva soaked cloth, tightly bond and gagging him; his eyes were covered, he could deduce by the sweat soaked fabric sticking to his face. His hands were bound, the rope tightly hugging his wrists. He still couldn't breath though, the feel of a very thick material around his head, suffocating him slowly, locking in the 98.6+ degrees inside. How he longed for nothing more then a cold glass of good vodka at that very moment.....hell, at this point, he'd take water even, so long as it was cold. But oh....how that tall glass of chilled vodka would feel, taste, running down his inflammed burning throat.

He tried to struggle, to just break free from his restraints. To no avail, he remained pressed against a hard surface, the sun beating down on him heavily, his uniform and that cursed bag over his head a damn sauna. Fruitlessly struggling, his futile attempts in vain, he swore mentally as he had succeeding in only producing more body heat to be trapped inside this coffin of his. For the first instance in his life that he could remember, he felt fear creep into him; a fear of hopelessness.....an underlying feeling that he may be trapped here until he dies. For what purpose, he had no answers, no faint ideas why a captor would allow him to roast to death like a fucking chicken without first trying to gain an ounce of information.....or at least a chance to exact revenge, if that being their purpose, to watch him brutally suffer just as he had made others suffer in the past.

Ever since he was captured, he had imagined his death as being slow. The slow removal his body parts piece by piece, the prolonged agony of some slow acting poison, the savage beatings and mutilations, hell even the adversive effects of the infection plaguing his body painfully overcoming him with illness and fever. No, this could not be it....this could not be the end! Who the hell ever dies by frying? Is that what he had become? Had he gone from being the most infamously feared and yet respected man in The Reich to the Colonel's Original Receipe?

Despondent, panic overtook him.....he could not allow this to happen to him. In a fit of rage, he bucked, like a bull with his ball's tied. He thrased, the beached whale in its last attempt to reach the shore. He fought with all he had.....and he fell silent.....lost in his near valient attempts at life. His body was limp, the fight gone, energy lost from where ever it had surged from in the first place.

"Damn boy puts up one hell of a fight!" laughed an all too high pitched young man.

Angry, more mature, more refined, a middle aged man responded, "Fucking hell! I hate beating him around like that. Is it really necessary for us to keep knocking him out like that? Who the hell smashes their leader on the head with a oar every time he wakes up anyway? Can't we just drug him like they're drugging that other guy?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what you crazy fucker?"

"Dante's an addict? Yeah....I hear he's been one since before he started training troops. Boss says we can't feed him his addictions."

"No way! That's horseshit! I've seen the damage that man's done. No fucking way an addict can pull that off!"

"Hey man....I'm just telling you what I heard."

"Oh shut the fuck up and lets row," the middle aged man finished, picking up his oar and thrusting it back into the water with an incredulous look of disbelief playing across his face.

The river parted beneath their oars, parted for the long boats to glide their way slowly up them, while above them the sun pounded down it's fury. The water's edge grew larger, spreading out vaster.....they were almost there, almost clear to break through.

They traveled until dusk, creeping their way along the shore of hanging willows and other low laying trees. Pulling aside of them in the silence, the other canoe kept their pace.

"Good job boys. We're almost there. Keep up the pace," the old man winked to them, falling a pace behind them gradually until they could no longer see him.

When Erzsebet had failed to respond, Levia narrowed her glare into the darkness...."this woman was really something else," she thought to herself as she scuffed, pushing past Erzsebet into the room that smelled strongly of blood.

Holding up her phone, she looked in disbelief at the blood bath that lay sprayed out before her, splatters on the walls, streaks on the floor, a large puddle around a hunched over body.

"Son of a bitch! Did someone order some takeout? You know I don't like sushi....." she spoke bewildered by the sight that she slowly unveiled as she moved the light around the full extent of the room.

Gaining her composure, the skills from her training kicking in, she turned back to whomever would listen. Firm and under control, her professional businesswoman's voice taking over, "Alright guys, we need to move these guys out of here. 'IF' they stand any chance at survival, we need to get them into that huge mansion we passed. I'm taking it as the only standing building in Stadt that has a medical facility in it. Let's get a move on it.....we won't have much time to waste with these boys."

Taking ahold of Knut, she helped pull him up, hoping that someone would come and help her move him and take away the other man laying hunched over in the ever slowly but surely forming blood puddle.

Walking through the door, following Levia into the room where Knut had been held, Artemis was greeted with the slightly pungent, coppery smell of torture and pain, wrought by blood and decaying flesh. He went immediately to Levia's aide, so quickly that she had barely time to finish her call for help before he had his other arm underneath the frail looking man's frame.

Travis came in soon afterward, having been close by enough to hear that it was time for him to make an entrance. "Ill support the other man and follow you two into that complex's medical facility."

With a sigh, Artemis watched Travis awkwardly position the man's body onto his, the man thankfully unconscious, else he would have been screaming from being picked up so roughly, I wish he had more experience in the field like his brother. He probably did more damage than good by 'helping' us out here. God damn.. if that man ends up being dead, ill never hear the end of it.

The grimace on Travis' face spoke volumes, he was obviously uncomfortable having a dead or dying, still bleeding man atop of him.

Artemis looked toward Levia, and mimicked the look of determination on her face.

Drowning in his own sweat, Dante awoke again, fatigued this time and too tired to attempt to break free. It felt close to a hundred degrees in that blazing sun with that bag tightly secured over his head. The sweat which had steadily poured from him soaked his clothing, drenched his rags and restraints.....and if it wasn't for how tightly the ropes were tied around his wrists, he swore he'd be able to slide them right out with the amount of sweat that had lubricated them thoroughly.

His throat was dry, an overwhelming sense of thirst beginning to take hold of him. He could feel the sun still beating on him....it would have irritated him if it wasn't for the heat catalyzing the infection that now spread rapidly through him. He felt ill, weak, tired, a bit nauseous, and exhausted, over heated from the intensity of the heat. He was sure it was no less then 100 degrees out, which was not far from the 110 degrees that it had reached by midafternoon.

He began to tremble, shake fervently as his body suddenly became extremely chilled, his hairs standing up abruptly, despite sticking to his skin moments ago. He felt his stomach churn, tossing about bile and gastric juices, he tried to muster a groan, a deep throated plea imploring for help at that very instant, but it was muffled by the cloth that had gagged and covered his mouth....drowned further in the slight rush of water against the boat and the steady splashing of the oars breaking the serene surface.

Murmured voices sounded, but he was incapable of hearing any words for a cacophony of ringing and blarring had arisen within his head. The waves and rocking that had tormented him incessently since he had awoken gradually faded until it had stopped. He felt a feeling like floating, but it ended almost as instantly as he struck a hard course object that projected painfully into his back.

His shaking continued though, relentless against the perspiring chilled skin. He was overheated, yet he was cold and shaking, and it was hot....the sun pounding on him, yet he was freezing, set on an iceburg in the middle of the equador.

Cold air rushed past his face in a wave, the bag, his coffin, having released him. Almost instantly, he let his head fall back, partially from weakness and partially from relief. He was still shaking, strong hands taking ahold of him to steady him. More screeches and cries, mangled voices and shattering rings filled his head, but with it came a rush of freezing ice down his throat and neck. Slowly, the freezing ice flowed down his throat and neck in slow regular intervals. And after a while, words started to come back to him, started to begin to make sense again.

"You think he'll make it?"
"How the hell should I know? Why'd you guys let him get so bad?"
"We didn't know. He wasn't moving....assumed he was out."
"Good job....wait.....I think he's coming around........ Dante? Can you hear me?"
"He's not responding."
"No shit, I can see that. His breathing is less labored now though and he seems to have cooled down some...... Dante? Can you respond?"

Mustering no more then a grunt, Dante tried to acknowledge that he could understand their words. Although he was struggling to lift his head or even manage to move from severe fatigue, the others gathered that he was somewhat conscious just by his attempted response.

"Should we cover him back up sir?"
"Not yet."
"We should get moving though sir."
"Very well, move him back into the boats."

Feeling hands seize him, Dante felt intense fear of being restrained again, of having his head tied up under some bag to suffocate him. He valued his ability to freely move his mouth, to not taste the sweaty saliva filled cloths emerged in his mouth, to be able to speak, to feel cold water rush down his throat. And now, somehow that jutting surface wedged into his back, creating a shooting pain up his spine, seemed much more warm and welcoming then the prospect of that heat and dehydration.

Struggling to break free, he let out loud angersome howl of rage.......only to be stiffled violently by that cloth again.

"Shit....keep him quiet. We can't afford to blow this now. We're almost out of this hell...... Now let's hurry," a cold voice ordered, one drowned over the rage building within Dante's mind.

Seizing Dante, the men struggled against Dante's weak attempts to break free. Despite his inability to fight, he tried his hardest to be free.....but that ended quickly again in a world of darkness........that world of darkness he would be forced to succumb to time and time again.

Elric had seen torture chambers many times in his life, especially during the last days of the Alderian Empire when he and Pondros had led the final assault on the Empire's concentration camps. This one was no exception to the rule that they smelled like death and were twice as nauseous. He grimaced when the man named Travis hoisted one of the still-living men onto his back.

Elric almost offered to use some of his treasured medical nanobots, but thought better of it when he recalled Levia's reaction back at her base. Perhaps she would relent later.

He hovered near the fringes of the group, feeling rather like a fourth leg on a three-legged stool

Nodding to those around her, those who could see her in the darkness of the room despite the lighting of only her phone, Levia led the way out of the room. The mansion was in the distance some; a good two and half miles away. Figuring it would take them about thirty minutes to walk one mile, Levia roughly calculated that they would reach the mansion doors right at dusk....and if they were fortunate, these victims of a vicious crime would make it that long without expiring on the way.

With the combined help, Knut did not seem as heavy as she had orginally imagined.....until about a mile into the trip with sun setting far in the distance. Knut had gone from manageable to a dead weight equivalent to pulling a dead bear with them. Levia strained under his weight....even with help he was becoming too heavy with the tiresome trek.....and to do so in a short skirt and heels seemed foolish right about now.

Sweat infused with the bits of dry blood still plastered to her face and matting her hair dripped continuously from her chin, collecting beneath her blouse in the fabric of her bra. She would need a shower for sure when they got to the mansion, not to mention a bottle of The Dictatorship's Finest. Oh how that taste filled her senses, that strong potent taste of Bourbon dancing on her lips. She had the pleasure of her first taste when she first became Director, but it has been so long since she had a true bottle from The Dictatorship itself. Konigsreich der Mathias, home of Mathias, home of one of the first Bourbon producing companies in The Dictatorship.....his place was loaded with the best of the best, and only the best. She quivered in excitement, barely able to control her desire to crack open one of those bottles and drown herself in it.

A chill picked up though and snapped her back to attention. They were about two miles into the journey, the night having already came; a cold frigid breeze eminating from the desolate wasteland that lay behind Mathias's mansion......somewhere from deep within the heart of the nation that beast blew its cold breath, that beast came out to hunt only at night, striking its unsuspecting victims suddenly without warning. Somewhere from the bowels of this hell lived the Satan of The Dictatorship, twisting its tails around its lair protectively, coldly forboding all to stay away.

Levia shivered now, despite the sweat still dripping. This place haunted her; chilled her to the core.....something was amiss in this nation, something had always felt off to her. The cold of this nation, the desolation and foreboding atmosphere that always hung in the air, that deathly silence that entrapped and enclosed them at any given moment.....those secrets of The Dictatorship that have yet to be revealed. It chilled her, haunted her, made her nervous in her surroundings.

Reaching the mansion, she knocked with her foot loudly, thunderously against the silence that consummed The Dictatorship. No response issued from inside. She knocked ever more forcefully, beginning to fear the worst....that everyone had been massacred. Again, no response issued. Fury raised inside of her.....it was such a stupid idea to come out this way.....what was she possibly thinking? But the door cracked ajar, a pale faced tired man answering the door....he looked frail, tired, fatigued.

"Levia? Is that you?" the man asked quietly, his voice unsure, shocked, but too exhausted to fully convey his feelings of surprise.

"Yes, I am Levia La'Doure. Now will you let us in? It's freezing out here!" she asking impatiently, struggling beneath the weight of Knut.

"Of course Director. Come in. Quickly. Come come," he issued hastily, opening the door to reveal a darkened foyer, blood stained with piles of ashes sitting here and there, scattered about. The place looked like a battlefield.....notthing like the opulent grace it held before. She remembered hearing of Stadt's beauty, of the golden structures, the silver frames, the onyx masterpieces.....Mathias's mansion had been one of them, and here she stood amid it, the onyx covered in dirt, filth, dried blood. Had it once been beautiful? She wondered this with wide eyes as she took in her surroundings.....it must have been a massacre. But who all survived?

"You," she called to the man who answered the door, who remained standing there tired and worn, "get these men into the facility and have them taken care of immediately. The one might be dead. Just get them help now," she ordered sharply, dropping Knut into the man's arms. Shaking off, she took a step inside, her heels clicking loudly off the onyx floor, echoing throughout the foyer.

"What happened here?" she asked more to herself then anyone, as the man had carried away Knut and issued the others to follow him in taking Noskalenaeuroph and anyone who may have needed it to the medicial facility.

Weakily awakened by the sound of murmured conversations, Damon slowly opened his eyes. His breathing was forced; blasts of air forcing his lungs to expand and contract. He looked to his side, a bag of blood hung nearby next to monitors that seemed to control every thing but sperm production. He tried to ask for Richard, but his mouth was gagged by a tube he swore was the size of a pipe that they deliberately shoved down his throat. He couldn't feel the pain, the discomfort of having been artifically kept alive, and for once he was mildly grateful for that.

His body was destroyed, broken and abused more than it ever had been. For now, he'd be forced to comply to the term recovery....for once he'd actually have to lay and wait for his body to repair itself before rushing off into the heat of action again. He could tell that his life was hanging on by just a hair, if the ventilator forcing him to breathe was not enough to confirm it.....yet, here there was a ventricular assisting device inserted into him as well. He shook his head.....Der Fuhrer was an interesting character; devising means to keep people alive when they should be dead, and having the will to keep someone alive who spent half their life trying to track her down and break her in, destroy her, eradicate all she stood for.

He tried to move, to sit up, but found that despite his body's intense weakness, he was also restrained down. It seemed to put a new meaning to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He tried to take a breath on his own, but failed against the mechanical force and power of the machine. Machine had overcome man.....it would have invoked many questions in him had it not been for the drugs inducing him to sleep.

And so he fell asleep again, fading slowly into a word of whispers and calls. Code Six....Code Six.....

OOC:
Repeated post.

Roughly, Travis hoisted the dead weight of the man he had carried on the arduous journey to this Mansion into the arms of a man much larger than him.. a man who seemed to be carved from stone, borne of battles and agony. Catching the rank on his lapel, he noted that he was handing his charge to a lower ranked, uncommissioned officer.

Good God, you have forsaken me. Here stands a man who could snap me in two, and I am NOT considered a small man! What have I gotten myself into.. and to think, tonight is the Senate Ball, I could be drowning myself in the eyes of a beautiful woman instead of sore from head to toe.

Artemis appeared to be no worse for the wear, but Travis was in dire need of a bath and a change of clothes. He absolutely refused to find himself in the presence of a dignitary looking as shabby as he did.. he could even feel the grime in his pores, begging for the chance to stain his face with a pimple.

As he departed off on his own in what appeared to be an entryway in what might be the largest 'home' he had ever set foot in. Instead of staring in awe, he stepped back outside.. Artemis sparing a glance in his direction and remaining, feet planted, aside of Levia.

Travis walked outside and fished around in his jacket pocket, finding what he was after almost immediately. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit the end, inhaling deeply. Dusk was slowly filtering over his line of sight, and the air began to calm with the chill of night.. advancing ever so slowly, yet with surprising force.

Its gonna be a cold fucking night in Hell, he thought to himself, taking another drag on his cigarette.

He leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, and continued an unabated line of thinking while finishing his toxic straw.

The problem of the unconscious man having been resolved before Elric could offer assistance, he leaned against a wall, waiting to see what would happen next.

With the biting wind and never-ending fatigue, the last three survivors of the original research group had entered the outer section of destruction. Lex, the newest leader of the three mangled skin and bones bodies, managed looked into the darkness at nothing more then horrid darkness and lifeless wind. Desolate silence had managed to extend out this far, and the mere thought of this infinite silence and devastation left Lex despondent, weakened further by his own feelings of hopeless. He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming from his face......their ONLY hope lie in ruins about them, not a foreseeable building standing nor the sound of a single whisper carried in the wind. The only sound drifted in waves; lapping of a rabid dog in the distance.

"Fuck you," he let out in a weak sob, his voice as parched as homemade paper in the desert, "Fuck you all...."

After moments of a struggle to gain composure, Lex stood up slowly. "I guess we go to sea.....there's really nothing left for us here. An entire nation destroyed...."

Walking slowly, he caught it briefly out of the corner of his eye. It was ever so brief that he would have sworn he was delusional. But with no hope toward life, what was there to lose now? He turned abruptly right, walking up the hill that stood outside Stadt with it's ever watchful stare, standing strong throughout history, watching like a father over his first born and only daughter. It was brief, too brief to even be logical about, but he did see it.

As he approached closer to his destination, the massive darkness arouse high into the night, shielding out anything in the distance. "It stands...." his mind raced as he pulled from his last reserves of energy, managing a tumble forward which he considered a run.

It was there for sure.....Konigsreich der Mathias. It stood. There was no doubt that it had survived the hell that Stadt had not, or was this all a plan? Perhaps the vast darkness and lack of sound was a decoy, a deceptive technique used to deter enemies from destroying this place?

He stopped though; stopped abruptly as he stared into the effervescent glint of glowing orange. It emanated into the darkness, a small speck of light amid the vast darkness and nothingness. A moth attracted to light, Lex surged forward in awe, moving toward with his mouth ajar toward the light. Amazed and in fascination, he reached out and touched it, smothering its life into the black oblivion in which he had waded through for too long. "No," he whispered, having ended the life of this sacred glow, bewildered with fragility of this world.

Richard sat lazily outside of Damon's medical room door in the hallway, resting his head in his arms, which were drawn up on his knees. He lazily unbuttoned the slightly torn shirt he was wearing halfway down.

Damn, its hot in here, he thought, getting up to check in on Damon, who still hadn't emptied the chamber of the gun Richard had left him over an hour ago.

With all luck, the man was gone. Off to lead his own so-called "life" and abstain from interfering in Richard's own.

Opening the door, Richard found a barely alive shell of the man he had called Damon. Thinking to himself once again, Richard pondered on their fragile relationship and his own opinion of the man himself.

I can't.. I cant work for this man! He's a fucking demon! If anything in this world is scarier than The Red Queen, its Damon the fucking Freedom Fighter.

"Fuck you," the words came out of Richard's mouth harshly. He turned to walk back out the door, leaving the man's life forever.. but couldn't. All in all, this was the only man he knew in the entire Reich. This was the only man who he could trust, even if only to be consistent and honest.

He loved the Reich, and loved information. Are we so different? He only wanted what was best for the whole region. He embodied the spirit that was The Reich, and had many of what Richard assumed were the Reich's most valuable and honored traits. Dedication, honesty, consistency, valour, honor.. the list went on. Would it be so horrible if I became one of them? Maybe my path goes that way.. I wont know unless.....

He had finally made up his mind and ambled over to a nearby padded seat.. walking past the array of respirators, IV holders, and various beeping devices. The chair itself was all in black leather, comfortable looking, but it represented something to Richard.. something big.. a step. Was it a step forward?

He took the seat, and watched over the man known as Damon, while emptying his mind.

Travis' eyes opened wide at the actions of the mentally unstable man in front of him.

"What the fuck dude?" He inquired eloquently with a shaky voice.. understandably worried about his safety. I thought everyone was dead in this place. Chalk one up for false rumor.

The man appeared absolutely horrified at what he had done, and Travis, being naturally inquisitive like his older brother, wanted to find out more. The man had murmured something when he extinguished his cigarette, but Travis wasn't sure it was the standard language of the Reich. He began to plot his angle of attack here, his mind already filling with visions of being commended on finding a survivor where none thought existed by his new commander, the wench Levia.

Reaching into his pocket to fish out the metal case containing his short supply of cigarettes, he pulled one out and lit it again, inhaling deeply once more.

"Sorry for yelling, is your hand OK?" A pause, Travis waited for an answer, "Do you speak English?"

"Here," He handed the disheveled looking man his cigarette, "you breathe in the smoke from the unlit end.. this one."

"Finish that up, then we'll go inside together and look for some food," he smiled warmly, blindingly sure that this man would cause no trouble, that he was merely a homeless person, living somewhere nearby.

Dropping the cigarette, Lex stumbled backward to the ground, scrambling back further knocking over one of the other men who had followed him. Bewildered, this foreign voice eminating from the darkness, Lex shoke his head cursing incoherently aloud. After all of this time, he had finally broken, his mind had gone to shambles.....the deprivation on his body had overtaken his mind. He was now hearing voices, experiencing things he had never before known, and in pain from touching light. What the hell was happening here?

Pulled up from the man behind him, Lex got to his feet.

"Hey Boss, you found life! HAHA! You lucky son of a bitch," he laughed, slapping Lex hard on the back, the language these men spoke a broken foreign dialect of something seemingly unexistant.....jarbled babble of a mad man.

Lex looked into the darkness, searching for the man of inquiry, and no sooner then he had started looking did the man take shape out of the darkness. Lex moved forward, examining the lifeform intensely. This was NOT a person of The Reich. This was NOT a person allied to The Dictatorship. What the hell had happened? This person was not of any race he had seen within the entirity of The Reich. Could it have been that The Dictatorship had succumbed to something greater than Dante? Could it be that both sides had lost?

With Reich mannerisms, Lex extended his hand. If this person was not of The Reich, he assumed it best to establish relations with these new people.....it might just be the only way to determine what had happened or how much time had passed since they had executed their mission.

The soot covered grounds flashed before him, the death and destruction. He was unable to hold it back; the small glint of that heart.....her neck.....her dead decayed flesh, the smell of stagnant rot searing their nostrils. It smelled of baked flesh and stewed guts.....it all came back to him. The dog, it's sunken mush of eyes....the horses.....that little girl..... And he weeped; he weeped. Biting his lip to strifle his feelings, he bit his lip until it bled, but even then it was not enough to control the streaming burning tears that poured down his face.

"What happened here, sir? Please tell, what happened, to Der Fuhrer Dyszel and Dante's assault? I need to know, sir? Please tell me...." he weeped heavily, incoherent to anyone but himself at that moment.

Travis scrambled to pick up his still burning cigarette, "Damn man, ive got a short supply."

Upon seeing the two other men with this dirty character, Travis had to hide his surprise.. and began to genuinely fear for his life. The man having talked to him meant he was some kind of leader, perhaps of a band of roaming bums?

The confusion increased after Travis introduced himself as an emissiary from the new Reich lands of Adyndril when the poor soul in front of him began weeping uncontrollably. The other couple of men behind him looked somber, as if they understood his babblings.

"Lets go inside now, ill introduce you to a Reich official if I can find one, and if not, we'll find the kitchen.. there must be one in this damned place," he spoke in a soft, kind voice, as if speaking to a child, but without taking it so far that he sounded condescending.

There must be one in this damned place, Travis sighed, he had no idea how he was going to take care of these three men and find out more about who they were when he didn't know anything about this imposing complex.

He knew one thing for sure, it was getting cold out here.. viciously cold.. he wanted to be inside as soon as possible, and figured these four men would want the same.

Der Fuhrer paced the halls, her limp predominant now. Preferring darkness over the light, Der Fuhrer walked the darkest depths of this mansion, alone with herself, her mind, her being.

The corridors became more narrow as she traveled to the depths of Konigsreich der Mathias that only experienced personal ever traveled, the feel of coldness beginning to surface as she traveled further into the darkness. Destiny had been shot in the last valiant effort to show loyality to The Dictatorship and Der Fuhrer Dyszel; Admiral Hunny*Dew had been killed in her own bedroom; Mathias Bortniansky gone missing and assumed dead after his frivolous affair with that Charmaine. All had gone so horribly wrong......she had no plan for their future, but she had imagined it to involve Mathias and Hunny*Dew, and Destiny and Alex, and even her protégées.


The corridor came to an end, Der Fuhrer stood before it, staring at it. The end.....that's what this all amounted to. She laughed half-heartedly, she always found her answers roaming the halls of these old buildings....they always took you to your answer and this was her's now....and end. A dead ended corridor in the depths of the mansion. She had remembered Mathias including many dead ends to trap predators in; enemies trying to flee from his guards could easily be caught in this labyrinth of dead ends and circles. She had thought she knew them all, having avoided them over the many years of traveling this mansion, pacing about aimlessly; however, now she was faced with one and no idea how she had come to this corridor, having never been here before.

"Mathias," she whispered, feeling so alone and lost, feeling the depression mount, the tears nipping at the corners of her eyes. "Why?"


She cried then, falling with her back against the wall, staring down the empty corridor; the image of Mathias sitting there sweating, shirtless and breathing heavy, laughing with that glint of exhilaration burning in his eyes. "Haha, did you see the look at that bastard's face Dyszel? We have to do this more often, you think?" his voice vivid in her mind, boisterous deep laughing. She shook the tears from her eyes.....it was almost as if she could see him standing there.

She had been here before.....

Curling up, hugging her knees, she let the tears come, sobbing silently to herself in her own despair. Mathias was gone........ Her mind kept telling her this; she could feel him there.....yet, he was gone. What could she do but cry?

Staring at the immense doors before him, Lex tried to remember anything of this place. It had been so long ago that he had been to Stadt des Meeres that nothing was registering in his mind.....this city of beauty and fatherly protection was desolate below him. He could not see through the darkness, the clouds hanging above covering the illuminated moon's reflection. It was dark; he could tell that much; no lights having been on in the entire city. It was also becoming incredibly cold, he could tell by his breath coming out....and he knew better then anyone the hell that this cold had brought. He swallowed hard, the deathly silence of The Reich extended this far; he just wanted to get out of it, into life....if that even existed.

He could only wiped the now cold and painful tears from his face as he struggled to come to terms with the possible Reich death that loomed over him. He just wanted to get inside, sit in warmth, get a meal....if one existed, and just be around life. It had been too long in the desolation that fear actually accompanied the thought of being around people.

"What would they think of me? How the hell do I appear? Are they going to hold us captive for information? Are they just going to kill us? What is going to happen? Are they going to look at us odd? Is this a dream?" Lex's mind raced wildly with all the possibilities of this man Travis's invitation into the mansion.

He just nodded, following intently, motioning to the others to follow him as well. The door opened, flooding the immediate area with a brilliant yellow light. Lex swallowed harder this time, preparing himself to take the step forward. This was a new beginning, good or bad. Pursuing his mind, he took the step inside, the emptied foyer massive before him, spreading out in the light, dark with dirt and blood stains with cracked pieces and random piles of ashes speckled here and there.

This was not what he had expected, but at least overall it was nothing new......death and destruction; dried blood, silence, ruin.....nothing he had not seen before. Lex sighed heavily, disappointed immediately that the mansion had been no different from the rest of the massive nation he had just spent many years trekking across.

"The Dictatorship is gone," he solemnly spoke, shaking his head in disappointment.

After discarding their extra baggage, as she began to see fit to call these straggles that they had picked up, Levia addressed those accompanying to speak to the guards when they came around as to where they were going to be housed.

Fulfilling her own agenda, Levia headed up the stairs, looking for a free room to rest in. Searching the first two rooms, she found distaste in the fact that they were men's rooms and not equipped for a woman's stay.

Opening a few random doors and inspecting the rooms, she was surprised when she was nearly killed by an array of instrincally placed weapons and traps designed to eradicte the life that walked through that door. After her heart settled down for a moment, regaining her composure, she heard the sobbing from the room.

"Oh shit," she mumbled, working her way through the room as to avoid any other near death experiences.

On the floor before her lay Hunny*Dew, in tears and fervently shaking.

"Admiral!" she exclaimed, nearly diving across the floor to scoop her up. "Are you alright?"


Hunny*Dew managing to fight against her fear, looked up into the face of this young woman. She look like she had just come from the battlefield, with blood and sweat mixed across her face.

"Please dear.....just get me the hell out of here," she whispered airly and painfully, her ability to speak hurting her severed throat.


"Yes ma'am," Levia responded immediately, assisting Hunny*Dew in standing and working her way out of the room. Releasing her in the corridor, they both sat on the ground, unspeaking, and looking as if they had both seen much better days.

"What the fuck happened here?" Levia asked, unable to mask her bewilderment.

"I can't say for sure....." was all Hunny*Dew could manage for a response, before she hung her head in her hands. "I need a drink...."

Laughing, Levia helped her up again, "Amen to that sister!" Levia smiled.


Walking with Hunny*Dew down the main staircase and toward where she remembered the kitchen to having been, she set Hunny*Dew on a chair before looking herself for the liquor cabinet.....which she could not miss, the cabinet having taken up an enormous space along one of the kitchen's walls.

Pulling out one of The Dictatorship's Finest, she cracked it open, smelling the seductive allure of the alcohol. Pouring their glasses to the top, Levia took another long whiff before drowning herself in it.

"Shitfaced" after two empty bottles, Levia and Hunny*Dew were laughing wildly, sharing stories of nothing and laughing wildly about the seriousness of their situation. Nothing could be more humerous at that moment.....nothing except the idea that everyone might be dead and they were drinking their asses off.

Elric became a bit impatient. His patience had never been the best, especially when he and Andros had led the revolutionaries. This environment reminded him of those days ... dank, dark, dangerous. Shifting uncomfortably in his position against the wall, he glanced around for the thousandth time.

How could he generate some activity, some engagement, anything to avod the total boredom which would inevitably dull his senses?

Moving closer to one of the "guards," Elric gave him a thin smile. "Since Levia has seen fit to wander off to God knows where, perhaps you could give me some information about ... [ glancing around ] ... this place, what we're going to do here ... that sort of thing. Maybe even tell us if we're to sleep here, what we're going to do for food?"

"Sir, if you're concerned about food, drink and lodging, that's all taken care of already. Would you follow me, please?" The guard replied, returning the thin smile, but a bit more sardonicly.

Re-shouldering his pack cum briefcase, Elric gathered his energy to follow, seeing that the guard was battle-hardened and quick.

"The Dictatorship is gone."

He had understood the man, barely, and much to his surprise; but more surprising was seeing the disappointment in the man's eyes at these shabby accoutrements, "Aye, it seems to be, but this place held up fairly well. The walls outside are standing.. it seems like this particular room has been through hell and back, but the walls are standing, so I doubt the whole place looks this shitty. I guess something just happened in here after the city was destroyed."

His attempts at small talk seemed to slide over the disheveled man like butter. No sense standing around here, watching him unwravel himself any further, he thought, sighing mentally this time, to not draw too much attention.. these men were not really noticing him anyways though. He pondered for a moment before leading them off to find a sign of life, Mystery on top of mystery... maybe they're not as simple as they look, sound, smell....

If tasting them was the next litmus test, he was out right now. Things weren't simple in the Reich, the stories he had always heard as a child either involved Adyndril, or the Reich.. and they were typically chilling tales.

"I am new to the Reich, so please bear with me while I figure out where we can find a kitchen around here.." he said with an air of authority.. but at those words, the leader of their little outfit started walking in the direction of one of the larger hallways.

Maybe he knows where he's going.

Travis snorted a little laugh.

OOC:

5000th POST!


This post is dedicated to the current Role Players and their contributions to this thread. If it were not for you all and your loyality and support to this thread, it would have not made it this far to see this post.

Thank you all for your continuous posts in this thread and for understanding the importance of meaning this thread has to me. Thank for getting us this far; I hope you will remain with us in the future of this role play....to the end, which the final stage is being set.