NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:

For RP claims....in case of error.

OOC: Ive only been around for the last thousand or so posts in this thread, but I already feel like a big part.. DFD, you maintain an excellent RP, which any RPer worth their salt already knows. You also made me feel at home here, always making sure that I was in as much pain as possible. :P You know what they say about DFD folks, the more pain she puts you in, the more she likes you... so enjoy it!

Congratulations everyone!

Aimlessly wandering, Lex smelled something of distinct rememberence.....something vague, but something directly tied to the likes of The Dictatorship. He could not place his finger on it, other then he knew it was directly tied to this place.

Following his nose, Tucan Sam, he found his way toward the kitchen, with Travis and the other men behind him. Bourbon......that was the smell; he could instantly tell as he watched the two woman laugh loudly as they downed the remaining fluid in their glasses.

He could see a blond; some young woman with her hair matted in dried blood sitting facing a woman, whose back was turned to them. This blond and dark brunette, who appeared fair of skin and tall with her hair haphazardly laying longer then her shoulder tangled and messed, continued to laugh, even after the men whom they had not noticed had made their appearences.

Ignoring their drunkness, he continued past the table, the idea of real food tempting him. He could vaguely remember being here, his mind running off of instinct rather than consciousness. Turning the corner, he found a large door, solid metal and plain, a sole handle tainting it's image. Reaching for it, he unlocked the door, a rush of instant freezing cold air cooling him.

Food..... it was all he could think, all his mind would fixate on as it drove him forward, until the door was slammed suddenly from his grasp.

"Excuse me sir, no one is permitted to enter here without the Master of this house's approval or someone of equal say. If you need something to eat, place your order with me and I'll arrange a meal for you, but you do not have authorization to freely access the food supply," a strong man ordered, tired looking as if he had not had a decent night's sleep in a long time.

"Eggs? Eggs and bread? No....no....fruit! Oranges? Apples? Oh, plums! Do you have those?" Lex animately burst out, excited at the idea that he may eat a decent meal.

Cocking his eyebrow, staring at the deranged man oddly, the guard nodded briefly. "Take a seat," he said with a still cocked eyebrow, determining the sanity of this man who excitedly asked for fruit, as if the man had waited forever to eat one.

He had happened upon a scene of madness. You never get this in Adyndril! Travis thought excitedly while staring at one of the strangest things he had ever come across.

There sat two women, he recognized one as Levia.. but did not know the other. The second woman had been given a necktie, ear to ear, and the wound was fresh. This scene on its own would not have bothered him too much, besides a curiosity about the second woman, if not for the drunkeness and insane laughter that echoed in the large room.

His small party from outside appeared transfixed on the idea of food, and to a degree, so was he.. but first, he had to speak to Levia.

"Madam Levia," she looked up at him, neither ceasing their laughter, as if they knew something he did not.. Travis tried his best to avoid looking at the woman whose neck had been so viciously cut, "I found... I found people outside, in this place where there should be no people. They look to have walked here from a great distance away.. perhaps you'd like to meet them? The three of them are... interesting."

She is completely intoxicated, and its not the first time ive seen her drink... I hope she can handle the situation.

As Levia stopped laughing, Travis refused his mind's plea to stare at the second woman at the table, except out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to ask questions too, but it had been beaten into him to ignore those instincts if he were to become a diplomat.

A beauty like that... marred forever.

This time he sighed audibly.

The sudden rage burst forth from Levia like nothing she had experienced. Grabbing one of the empty bottles of Bourbon, she smashed it on the table top, and in a single bound lunged toward Travis, planting him into the ground. Mounting him, with the jagged edges of the bottle dancing lightly at his neck, Levia held her weapon in place like a cunning and trained assassin.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked coldly, menancing and threatening in her state of mind, the scent of liquor heavily lingering around her.

Silence filled the room for a minute as Travis lay on the ground dumbfounded toward Levia's sudden assualt, the three men and guard just as startled. That long minute had passed, a long minute that seemed to last much longer then that, before Hunny*Dew began to snicker behind the clasped hands over her mouth. She was trying desperately to control it, but it crept out in little bouts, snickers turning into giggles......a child at church on Sunday morning sitting in a pew in front of the sleeping bald old man.

The laugher was contagious, breaking out in a fit. Hunny*Dew struggling to stay on her chair, began laughing wildly again, finding it utterly amusing that Levia was mounting some guy with a broken bottle. Levia herself began to laugh loudly, rolling off of Travis onto her back, laughing at the ceiling for no apparent reason.

The news of these three men had passed them all unknowningly, if anything, it added nothing more then laughter to their current state of drunkeness.

Fighting to control his bladder, Travis stood up as the maniacal laughter of the two harpies continued in full.

"If you had wanted to be on top of me, we could have done it right," he said quietly while getting up and straightening his clothes.

While the two women were still having their fit, Travis took the broken bottle and brought it over to the three men who appeared thoroughly startled to the point of running away.

"She's always like this when she drinks," he said to the three men to assuage any of their fears and lend a false familiarity to the situation, "she wont hurt any of you. Please eat up."

Instead of sitting down and being social, Travis grabbed an apple and walked over to the head of the kitchen.

"If you can manage it, no more alcohol for those women," he said between bites of apple, speaking rudely with his mouth partially full, "and please have someone come to clean up the broken pieces of glass."

He handed the broken bottle to the man before turning to walk away, pausing before he had his back completely turned, "oh.. and hey... do you have any seafood platters you could have brought out?"

Maybe a diaper? He thought.

Feeling weak from his exhaustion, Lex took the nearest seat quickly, plopping down into it with great force. The guard was definitely a Reich member, a member of The Dictatorship, but was he enslaved by these new people? A captive in his own nation meant to serve these people? The two other men took a seat aside of him, also exhausted at their long journey, looking more fatigued and drained the Lex had.

The man to his right rested his head on the table, too tired to keep it up any longer. Lex merely looked to him as the guard began to place the random fruits into a bowl, which he set before them.

Still staring at them with an odd look of curiosity on his face, the guard's voice sounded just as tired as their own oddly, "How do you want your eggs sirs?"

"However you like.....just make lots of them if you can. Hey......um.......can I ask you something?" Lex spoke now quieter then before, his language harsh and less pronounced, directing his question to the guard as the man Travis turned his back to them.


Beginning, himself, to suspect something more to these men, the guard hardened his gaze into these men, trying to see something in them that might explain their behaviors and appearances. "Uh.....yeah. Sure. Go ahead," he shrugged, retrieving a dozen of eggs in the process.

"Are you a slave?" Lex asked seriously, looking at the man's tired and fatigued appearance and lack of desire to "cowtail" to everyone else.

"Aren't we all buddy," he let out in a half-laugh, beginning to crack the eggs. When he caught a look of the hopelessness spreading across Lex's face, he noted the seriousness of this question and the possible undertows it might convey. Quickly changing his demeanor to a more serious one, he corrected himself with great haste, "Hey, I was joking. I'm one of the few remaining military personnel of Mathias's Guard. Why do you ask?"

"Mathias?" Lex asked, turning his attention fully to this guard.

"Yes, Mister Mathias Bortniansky. You know, Mathias....." he asked, failing to better explain himself.

"I know Mathias, but where is he? Is he here? Can I speak to him?" Lex asked animatedly now, livened by the name alone.

"Sir, Mathias is dead, as I understand. I heard he was kidnapped by Genocide; word is he died in captivity there. I can't say much more, but I think he's dead. No one's investigated his death though.....I think they just wanted him to be dead and over with," the guard spoke downcast, adverting his eyes from Lex and beginning to cook the eggs.

"Dead?" was all Lex could mumble. Again, nothing new......death, destruction, desolation.

"Sorry sir. It's better this way though. You know, with the whole charges against him and all...." the guard mumbled, adding salt and pepper to the eggs, not looking at all to Lex, feeling himself slightly ill to the stomach at what it was he was telling this man.

"It's....okay......" Lex managed, obviously hurt by the news.

"Hey. Wait!" the guard said, stopping in his place and turning abruptly around to face Lex. "You spoke the old language of The Dictatorship! Where did you learn that?"

"What?" Lex asked, the one now suspecting that this man might be a little unstable upstairs.

"The Old Reich, you spoke the language. We just had an entire conversation in it. How'd you learn it?" the guard asked more persistently this time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lex hesitated, unsure of what was going on and looking to the others for support.

"Hey, Admiral!" the guard called over to the woman sitting there who the guard had instantly recognized. "This man speaks Old Reich. Come here," he said, motioning to the woman with dark brown hair over.

She stood up wobbling, clutching the table for support and laughing at the slightest thing. "Whoo...." she said, toppling forward a bit before catching herself on a chair and laughing.

Lex looked toward her. It took some heavy scrutinizing, but he was certain it was she, by the look in her eyes. It was Admiral Hunny*Dew for sure, but she was drinking......she never drank before.....

"Ah hey there! Haha, whoops," she laughed, grabbing Lex's chair for support. "Yes boys," she asked trying to stifle the laugh that Levia in the background antagonized.

"This guy speaks Old Reich," the guard said more amazed, turning quickly to the eggs as to maintain them.

"Sir, say something for me," she giggled, trying to be serious through this all.

Lex, more amazed to see Hunny*Dew alive, smiled and instantly stood up, knocking her back. She fell to the floor laughing; Lex turning red and helping her up. "I'm sorry my Lady Admiral Hunny*Dew. Forgive me for being foolish. It's just.....I'm surprised to see you alive."

Hunny*Dew just stood there with a huge grin on her face, struggling to fight against the laughter surfacing. "He called me Lady," she burst out laughing suddenly, grabbing the other man's chair for support.

"Yes Admiral Hunny*Dew, I have. I need to ask, what happened here?" he asked more serious, growing a little impatient at trying to talk to a drunken person.

"Oh, shit hit the ceiling," she laughed, laughing harder at her own joke then necessary.

"Where is Der Fuhrer Dyszel? I need to speak with her," Lex asked concerned and worried.

"Dead," Hunny*Dew laughed, holding on even tighter to keep herself from falling.

"This is serious Admiral. I need to speak with her," Lex insisted more seriously.

Electing to stay out of the conversation, the guard turned back to the eggs to ensure that they were cooked correctly.

"She's dead. Died. Killed. Something like that. She's gone," Hunny*Dew laughed, her laughter now becoming a pained laugher of someone who was trying to make light of a serious situation.

"No......" Lex murmured, talking a seat again, as the inability to stand took over. He should have seen it coming, but somewhere a faint hope had always remained that she was still alive.


"Who are you?" Hunny*Dew asked serious now, still swaying back forth.

"Admiral, it's me.....Lex. Don't you remember?" he said feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"Lex?"

"Yes, Admiral," was all he could manage.

"Lex?" the guard butted in, nearly knocking over Hunny*Dew in the process. "No fucking way......what happened?"

Looking as if she missed something, Hunny*Dew just swayed her arms and took a seat on the ground, Levia meeting her with a freshly opened bottle and two now filled glasses.

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Can we just eat?" Lex asked, feeling no desire to continue with his business after discovering the dire truth about their situation.

Serving their meals, the two men ate ravishly, stuffing themselves as if they had not seen food in ages. The third man still lay with his head on his arm and it wasn't until the guard nudged him that it was determined he was dead.

"Fucking hell," the guard said, surprised to find that the men had died so suddenly.

Shrugging and swallowing his mouthful of eggs, Lex just shook his head casually. "Throw him in the freezer. We'll save him for later."

"Damage report."

"We lost power to the maximum security cells alittle after midnight. Power has yet to be restored. Also, the prisoner in cell 0001 has gone missing. No further reports have come in concerning the damage."

"Thank you, I'll report to Genocide now."



With the sun beaming through the windows lining the primary corridor, the only sound that was heard was the stomping of heavy boots against the marble floors. Monotonous and droning as the steady hum of a freeway, they continuous thudding of the boots continued throughout the entirity of the complex.

Interrupted only by a quick hard knock, the doors opened to reveal a small child sitting in a chair far too large for her minute body, sitting behind a large desk, also quite too large for her small figure.

"Genocide, I have the reports."

Looking up from her gaze on the shining surface of the desk, speckled by diminutive droplets, she nodded just once.

"We have a prisoner missing and the maximum security cells are still out of power."

"Cell 0001?" the girl's voice sounded fragile and broken.

"Yes."

"Search the grounds. Send the troops to comb the nation. Find him," she silently spoke, barely audiable to anyone in the room.

"Affirmative."

Turning back into the mainstream steady thud thud thud, the door was closed quick and quietly, locking in click.


Wiping her eyes which had suddenly filled with tears, Genocide sniffled twice, before taking a sip of the full glass of now warm milk sitting before her. Pulling a small bear sitting on her lap beneath the desk, she hugged it before quickly stuffing it under the desk again. "Prepare the troops. We leave in six hours," she whispered.

The man from the cell still plagued her dreams, the blood covered cell walls.....he had masked himself behind. The rage that man had beared brought a chill down her spine. Nothing stopped him. The coldness, the rage, the fire within him.....it all had to mean something. Those eyes..... She caught them for a moment, the intensity that they had burned with, this dark black pools of boiling rage and hatred. It was those eyes that had scared her the most; there was something about those eyes that did not rest well with her. She had seen them before; she was sure of this. Those eyes, those dark pits of hell, they were windows to her past. She needed that man; he was the key to something greater, something she could not remember.



When six hours were said and done with, Genocide stepped out into the fading sunlight. Before her stood hundreds of thousands of soldiers, all in neatly pressed uniforms under the overbearing heat of a late summer day in Mahanoy. In one fluid movement, they all saluted her and stood at attention......this is what she had created.

"You were called here today to go to war. In just two days, we will take The Reich. Each division will attack a small sector that was predetermined and will be announced upon our arrival to The Reich. You are to bomb each sector with all the force you can, eradicating all the major target areas before you are free to return to Whitecastle, where you will refuel and return home," she spoke, disconnected and detached from her current position.

With a phenomenal roar, the soldiers cheered; Genocide turned her back to them. Before her stood the massive complex that stretched far beyond her sight. There before her, off to the side, the large unpenetrable structure of the main complex stood......untouched since they had arrived. She stared intently at it.....the locked mysteries inside beckoning her like a stranger with candy.

Shaking her head, she turned back, the troops already departing toward their designated flight gear. Feeling a strong hand on her shoulder, she shivered, knowing it was her time to go. Stepping into the cooled cabin of a nearby jet, she took a seat, surrounded by two rather large muscular men.

With a rush and roar, they took off, surrounded to the horizon by countless black planes, bombers.....all in uniform file. Their destination.....The Reich.

Sitting aside the large flowered bed, Mathias sat hunched over, a rhythemic rush of air following in persuit one after the other. The thick scar lined his entire throat, rememnants of a past life he was no longer part of. Even if he could speak, the tube inserted down his throat prevented him from doing so.

Whish, whish......whish, whish.....

They were not too different afterall......both men professionals in war, both similiar in stature, both hooked up to machines controlling their breathing. They took refuge in a small house outside of the nation, just off the border. Housed without permission, they hoped to gain a few days of rest before they departed.

"Hey Mathias. He's still not awake is he?" spoke the gruffened voice of an older man.

Mathias just shook his head; Dante had not been conscious for three days now....nothing new had changed.

"He went into septic shock just before we got him here.....I wasn't aware he had a systemic infection spreading so quickly," General Diehl spoke softly, trying to keep the room quiet for their resting patient.

Mathias just shook his head again, a slight twist of anger mangling his usually hardened face.

"I heard about the men being too abusive too. He needed stitches from that last blow, cut a five inch slice to the back of his skull even through the bag. We needed to keep him quiet though.....I hope you'll understand."

Mathias tried to take a deep breath on his own, but failed when the respirator forced one down into his lungs beyond his control. He hated this machine more then anything, but knew at this moment it was the only thing keeping his lungs from tiring out and failing. The pain in his chest had not diminished slightly since his arrival here; it remained like his scar, a constant reminder of what his body was fighting.

Struggling to stand to return to his room, Diehl helped Mathias stand, supporting him all the way back, the sound of wheels and small footsteps the only noise in across the hard wooden creaking floor boards. Sitting down on a smaller bed, laced in pink, Mathias rested back, the image of black figure moving quickly through his mind. There had to be a solution to all of this.......if not for him, for her.

Procuring the plane, The Reich Freedom Fighters opened fire on everyone they came across who was still alive aboard the plane. Declaring the area secure, they removed the bodies and cleaned the blood stains of those deceased before sending Three One to report back to Der Fuhrer Dyszel that they were ready for departure.

Working his way through the shadows, Three One entered the mansion silently. No one was in sight, he was thankful for this. Looking around the foyer and seeing no one, he broke into a run up the main staircase and into Mathias's bedroom, only to find it occupied by the body of Destiny and the still unconscious Anna.

Taking a seat, Three One removed his gun, checking the ammunition, before sliding it back into its holster. Closing his eyes, he managed to fall to sleep in a short period of time as he sat there waiting for Der Fuhrer Dyszel, his last thought wondering if he had done the right thing supporting Code Six.

After finishing his quick order for a plate of seafood and giving the broken bottle to the head of the kitchen, Travis walked over to a lonely table with his apple. The woman with the necktie was speaking gibberish to his companions, who Travis was beginning to suspect were more than just hobo's.

Taking a final bite out of his apple, he set the core onto the table.. immediately wishing he had a glass of water and some crabcakes.

Travis looked up again to see one of the three men being carried away roughly by two large guards. Springing into action and worried that the lady with the necktie had killed him, he ran over to the table where the suspicious hobo's were still eating nonchalantly.

"What happened? Did your subordinate just die?" He asked, completely confused, and a little bit scared at how the new man could so calmly shrug off a death.

Standing up, she brushed the dust and dirt from her uniform, straightening it in the darkness of the narrow corridor. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled it slowly as she stared down the dark corridor again, trying to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing.

She knew what she had to do. She was a dictator, The Dictator of The Reich. She had to serve The Reich come what may. She had to find a solution when none seemed feasible.

Working her way out of the labrynth of corridors, she found herself standing before broken glass and a revealed corridor. Walking over the broken glass, the crunching beneath her boots, she worked her way up narrow staircase. The doors at the top were sealed, air-tight, and locked. She tried to open them, but they refused to open. "Mathias....." she whispered, knowing that only he could initiate a lockdown that kept her out.

His labratory had been discovered it appeared; he must have locked it in fear of having it destroyed. So many secrets lay within that room; so many secrets......they simply could not be exposed.

Turning her way back toward Mathias's bedroom, she stopped around the corner from a guard directing an elderly man around the mansion. Peeking out from the corner of the darkness, she observed them silently. He was not anyone she had known, this much was certain. His attire was not affiliated directly with The Reich, so it was doubtful this man held a position in her military......but evenso.

Something about this man caught her eye. He was more then he appeared to be. The way he carried himself, the way he tried to take in all around him without appearing to do so. Allowing them to pass her, she sulked back into the shadows, a phantom in the darkness. With curiousity aroused, she found interest in following them. Persuing them to a room that the guard had stopped at, informing the man that this was where he would be staying and that he would wait here until he was ready for dinner to walk him back to the dining hall until he learned the corridors, Der Fuhrer watched as a predator stalks its pray. Silent as the night, swift like the wind, unseen like light wave, Der Fuhrer exceeded the common assassin and covert operations expert.

Mustering a half grin, she stepped out from the darkness, her reflective shades securely placed over her eyes; the black uniform neatly framing her figure.

"Hello men," she spoke cooly, wanting to know more about their positions here.

Looking up at Travis as if he were from some foreign planet, Lex nodded his head and shrugged. "Yeah, but don't worry, we're saving him for later. He won't go to waste," Lex reassured Travis as to try to ease this man's evident concern.

"He says, 'Don't worry about it. They're saving him for later?'" the guard translated for Travis, suddenly looking a bit ill to his stomach.

Speaking in the current dialect of The Reich, the guard turned to Travis. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked concern, trying not to arise too much suspecion from Lex. That was the last thing he wanted at that moment......to upset Lex after he appeared out of no where.

He was in hell, he knew it. Hell could be no worse. In just the past couple of hours, he had seen a woman who he was surprised had a tongue coming out of her mouth, instead of her neck.. he had been threatened with death by bottle, and NOW, he was standing in front of a cannibal.. not a hobo, but a cannibal.

My poor brother, who knows whats happened to him.. probably dead, I should have listened to everyone else.

"Sure... not go to waste," he must have mumbled something in reply, but for the life of him, he could not remember what it was.

Looking at the guard next to him with eyes as big as a squid's, Travis was suddenly happy to have him around.. and while the curiosities only grew, the terror only grew with them. He suddenly felt very, very alone in the world..

That bottle of bourbon looked a lot friendlier than it had when he first came into the kitchen.

"Son of a bitch," the guard said, shaking his head and laughing. "I say we all have a real damn good drink for old times sake!"

Rushing over to the liquor cabinet, he grabbed a bottle of Bourbon and popped it open, pouring everyone a glass. All that they had intook in such a brief period of time had been far too much to digest. Drinking seemed to be the only thing that made sense at this moment.

Holding up his glass, the guard spoke to everyone in the room, including Hunny*Dew and Levia, who had managed to cease their outrageous laughter for a whole thirty second. "To Lex and his associate, welcome back you damn old sons of a bitches!" he laughed loudly, more trying to reassure himself that Lex had not made reference to eating a dead body.

Downing his glass, he obliged himself a second and third glass before feeling oddly at ease with being in the same room with a man who apparently had just made plans to eat their fallen comrade.

Still considering the possibility that more men than just two had begun this journey with the scraggly looking man named Lex in front of him, Travis absentmindely downed half the glass of liquor.. then paused in midair, briefly shivering over the thought of those teeth sinking into his flesh, before downing the rest of the glass.

The sharp bite of the liquor turned his mind completely away from this Lex character, and to the fact that he had always been known as a light drinker.. that he never DID drink. Bourbon was gross, he came to that conclusion rather quickly, nothing like the wine coolers his mother poured for him as a young teenager.. or the daiquiri's he had, albeit rarely, after he aged a bit.

Making a face and stifling a gag, Travis turned his attention away from Lex and the guard and to the bottle, reluctantly pouring himself half a glass to finish a lot more slowly than he did the first.

All the while, he kept an eye on Lex, his oddly quiet partner, and the other woman.. He merely disliked Levia, it appeared now that he had walked into a viper den.

Within minutes, his head was swimming in a bowl of numb, and all was forgotten... Levia looked ravishing, Lex looked friendly, the guard looked like a fun boxing partner, and he could completely ignore the savage wound on the other woman's neck.

Laughing wildly, Levia stood up and took her heels off, tossing them onto the floor, before getting up on the table. "Hey everyone! Listen! Tonight, we celebrate The Reich! I don't know why, but it sounds like a good idea!" Holding her glass, she began to spin around and dance, kicking her legs out intermittedly showing too much beneath her black skirt.

Slipping over nothing and feeling the pull of gravity, Levia toppled off the table, landing into the arms of the guard who somehow managed to catch her through their drunkeness. Falling back himself though, they both ended up in a heap on the floor; Levia laughing and the guard wondering how he was on the floor.

Laying ontop of the guard, Levia leaned forward and planted on kiss on his lips; kissing hard, as if there was no tomorrow. Smiling playfully, she bit his lip and sucked it; the guard submitting himself to her foreplay. Leaning forward to kiss her himself, she slammed him back onto the ground before laughing wildly again, pulling off her staulkings and hogtieing him. Laughing, still, she kissed him again before attempting to stand up again, in search of the floating bottle of Bourbon.

Seeing a young man amoung them, Levia approached him slowly, seductively trying to lure him in with her bare feet and exposed legs.

"Hey there you....you want a drink?" she asked Travis hopefully, grabbing the bottle from the table and holding it to his glass, steadying her hand to pour.

Elric had just set down his backpack when he felt, rather than saw, another person move into the room the guard had indicated was his for now.

"Hello, men," came a female voice from behind Elric. As he turned to face the sound, he noted two things: that the voice was accustomed to command, and that the guard had snapped to attention.

The source of the voice was a relatively tall ( Elric estimated about six feet ) woman of apparent middle age, although Elric suspected she was older than she looked. She wore the black uniform of the Reich, and a pair of dark glasses which concealed her eyes. Elric also noted the total absence of any insignia of rank or decorations/awards on her uniform. She stood a bit ... oddly, something Elric filed away for future observation.

She also carried a high-powered rifle strapped across her back. It was rather hard to miss!

The guard made an almost imperceptible nod, apparently not directed at anyone in particular.

"Hello," Elric replied, allowing his most winning smile to spread across his face. "I don't believe I've yet had the pleasure of making your acquaintence." He stepped forward slightly, holding out his hand, palm up. "My name is Elric, of The Eutruscan Republic."

Standing before him, Der Fuhrer Dyszel extended her hand and took his rather firmly, turning the palm medially while shaking it twice. She spoke not of her identity, feeling it was irrelevent at that moment.

"Welcome to The Dictatorship Elric. Eutruscan Republic. Interesting," she simply said, before turning her attention away from Elric momentarily. She walked the length of his room, seemingly to inspect the quality of it, her limp predominant now after the length of walking she had done.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a little girl. The girl stood at the door, standing in a white unstained dress. She appeared to be young, very young, no older then five, with dark black hair that bounced with her step. She watched them, tilting her head slightly at the newcomer. Turning her back to them, she walked away, her figure seeming to vanish in the air.....disappating slowly....a ghostly figure of Konigsreich der Mathias.

Waiting for the moment to pass, not taking notice if the guard and Elric had seen her, she turned back to them. "Soldier, you may rest now. You have done your duty. I will handle the rest from here on," she ordered authoratively before looking back to Elric, the half grin spreading across her face.....not a word said otherwise.

He had always considered himself a woman chaser, Travis had.. but alcohol always did strange things to the women who he would normally chase. The strangest of those things were the sudden need for them to chase him, instead of the other way around. Alcohol was his friend, in a way.

Not likely tonight.

He watched the now thoroughly sexy woman Levia first show everyone her underwear before having a short, drunken make-out session with the burly guard .. who kissed her back just as drunkenly. Were he not drunk himself, he probably would have enjoyed snottily turning his head away in mock disgust.. as it were, something suddenly filled extra space in his pants.

Conveniently forgetting that Levia had nearly killed him mere minutes ago, he absentmindedly gave her a cocked smile of approval as his eyes followed her body from foot to face again as she offered him a drink. Manners and common sense had left him with that first glass, not to mention the next half of one.. how would he handle another? It was a mystery to unfold, because Levia was looking at him in a way that made sure he wouldn't decline.. so without his eyes leaving her's, Travis took a large draw from the fine crystal glass he held in his hand.

"Thakn youu Miss Levia, I like it. Remidn me to get smore when I take off again.. wheeee.. in the.. the.. fuck, I forgetthewordohyea. The airplane home," he mumbled his thanks with a retarded smile on his face, the cool, composed grin turned ugly with the effects of alcohol.

All the while, he had forgotten about everyone else in the room.

Elric, not to be dissuaded, raised the woman's hand and turned it ( not without a bit of quickly dissipated resistance ) to his lips and kissed the back.

As she walked around the room as though on an inspection tout, Elric noted the limp almost immediately, confirming his earlier observation concerning her stance.

Elric's gaze was suddenly diverted by the appearance in the doorway of a very young girl in a white dress. She looked at him strangely, cocking her head. Before Elric could devise a response to this apparent apparition, it seemed to slowly dissolve as the girl walked away. Elric found himself hoping he hadn't gawked.

Somewhat bemused, he turned his attention back to the woman in the Riech uniform, who turned back toward him after summarily dismissing the guard.

"Uhh ... did you just see ... ?" Elric left the remainder of the question unasked.

Grabbing Travis's waist, Levia reached around him, pulling his hips into her own. "Don't be shy there," she laughed, taking a large gulp from her glass before tossing it to the ground. Sliding her hands down his pants, she let her fingers dance upon the skin of his ass before pulling them out and running them up his back.

Smiling evilly though, she quickly reached down and grabbed his underwear, pulling up suddenly with a great force.

"ATOMIC WEDGIE!" she squealed in utter delight, as she grabbed the bottle and took a swig directly from it.

"Cheers to all," she laughed again, finishing the bottle.

"Yes, of course I have," responded Der Fuhrer Dyszel, looking back to the now empty corridor. "I suggest not bothering with it. They say this place is home to many secrets. I have learned it is not wise to go inquire about them," she finished before sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Mister Elric, tell me what brings you this far out in The Reich," Der Fuhrer leaned forward, intently watching his every move. "People do not venture out this far especially after the destruction of The Dictatorship. There must be something out here to engage your presence here."

"In Eutrusca, they call me Administrator Elric Diecletion, but I prefer just Elric," he smiled at her.

"I have been sent as emmissary to the Reich from Eutrusca. We recieved the Riech's request for help, and since Eutrusca is so close geographically, responded quickly. Eutrusca is very concerned that the war be decided in the Reich's favor to maintain stability in this part of the world. So ... I am here to determine just how we can help. Director Levia has been most helpful so far."

"I see," Der Fuhrer responded solely, remaining silent for a moment. Behind her dark reflective shades, she intently scrutinized him, watching every slight movement and blink of the eye. Feeling comfortable in the dark, or at least, with the shades over her eyes, she continued to stare at Elric without saying so much as a word.

When the silence began to grow too lengthy, Der Fuhrer pushed herself up hard, struggling to get a strong stance on the ground; the pain searing through her legs, causing a brief sharp inhale of air.

"You room appears to be in order. I cannot stay much longer, I need to walk. If you would like to talk, you may follow me, unless you have any other ideas of something to do. I believe there is some sort of assembly in the kitchen......they are making quite the ruckous," Der Fuhrer half grinned, her hearing finely attuned to far away sounds after spending so much time being tortured.

Elric felt much as he thought a microbe might feel beneath a high-powered microscope as she scrutinzed him. He had the distinct impression that she could become a sponge for data when necessary.

When she finally stood, it was all he could do to refrain from offering his help. She was apparently in considerable pain, although she concealed it well. Having seen the reactions of Reich personnel to offers of assistance, he stiffled the impulse.

"I would love to accompany you ... uh ... I still don't know by what name you wish to be called," Elric said, hinting broadly.

He grabbed his backpack as he followed her from the room.

"That information is irrelevent at the moment. Follow me. I will direct you toward the kitchen. You should eat as often as possible here," Der Fuhrer offered, walking slowly out of the room.

Once down the corridor, she walked through a labryinth of corridors, weaving in and out of them like a trained mouse in a maze.

"Elric, tell me about Eutrusca," Der Fuhrer spoke, her voice authorative, commanding and point.

Duitifully following on behind her, Elric smiled. "What would you like to know about our nation, dear lady?"

Alex awoke, in a half conscious state of mind, the drugs that he was kept on keeping him heavily sedated and sleeping most of the time. Finding his head feeling heavier the a bucket of water, he pulled himself from his bed, holding grasp of the bar set aside to hold his IV's on.

Pulling it along for support, Alex weakily stepped out of the medical facility, finding a moment in time where no personnel were avialable to stop him. Wanting to find Destiny and find out what the hell had happened, he drug his body along the corridors, a thin piece of material half covering his chest and tieing in his back.

Reaching the foyer and hearing excitment coming from in front of him, he continued to follow the sound, walking ever so slowly toward the noise. Reaching the kitchen, the noise level seemed to loud for him; his head hurt and hung heavily on his neck, drooping in his weakness.

He was pale; frail looking now after all the medication induced sleeps and sedations. His heart felt weaker somehow, struggling to pump blood to his whole body. He could not remember what happened, except for Destiny screaming and a painful jab to his gut. Looking around, the people blurred images through his half drugged state, Alex thought he saw Admiral Hunny*Dew through it all. Unable to make out faces though, his bare feet pressed themselves into the ground, lodging pieces of broken glass into them from earlier smashed bottle. Not feeling the pain, Alex moved forward slowly, feeling alittle too weak to continue.

Unable to pull out a chair, Alex held tightly onto the pole to keep himself steady. "Help," his weak tired voice sounded, a whisper silent amoung the laughter. "Someone....."

"Anything, naturally. However, you hestitated to answer. Answering questions with a question usually fails to produce a good response around here. You will learn quickly that this place is nothing compared to wherever it is you have come from. The Reich is a peculiar place; we have ways of doing things that all are expected to comply to," Der Fuhrer informed him, her voice still maintaining that air of command.

"Now, here, over to your right will lead you a study hall. Just follow that corridor and you cannot miss it. The corridor takes you into the study, since it is open to all. Rarely it is used though; it is a good place to think when one needs to unwind," Der Fuhrer pointed out, giving Elric some ideas of places of interest during his stay.

Beginning to feel the pain set in her legs, she used to wall to steady herself, pushing off of it time to time for the extra force she would need to walk. Making it to the main staircase, she stopped.

"I will leave you Elric. I cannot continue further at this very moment. If you take these stairs down and turn right, you will find yourself in the kitchen. Although, you can just follow the noise at this point," she pointed out, listening to distinguisable and auidable laughter and jest continuing downstairs.

Standing with the best posture she could manage, she managed another half grin to Elric, slightly adjusting the rifle on her back.

Somewhat nonplussed by both the woman's mild dressing-down of him, and by her subsequent dismissal, Elric only nodded. "I'm sure I will find the antics of the young ones amusing, dear lady."

"Concerning Eutrusca, suffice it to say for now that we have come through great struggle to a place of strength, relative peace, advanced technology, and social responsibility to our people. We're very insistent on active participation in the political process by all citizens. I'll be happy to hold forth with more detail when we have more time to talk. I will see you again, yes?"

He had wanted to offer assistance, but had learned his lesson about the response to that sort of thing from higher-ranking Riech members. He filed her reference to the Study away for use at a later date.

Travis limped out of the room dizzily, feeling as if his ass had just been given a new exit. He was angry, and decided to leave amidst a room full of laughter before becoming upset. He would find a room, a change of clothes, and go out for another cigarette.

The question was... where the hell were the rooms? He could wander these hallways aimlessly for days.

Spotting a soldier, he walked over to him, butt in the air, and inquired, "Where.... oh yea, where can I find a room to slip.. sleep.. hehe. My butt hurts."

The soldier led him, stumbling and lost, to a room that seemed miles away.. for brief moments on the journey, he felt like just sleeping on the floor, but his ass was a far more immediate concern of his than laying down.

Finally, upon arriving in the room, Travis stripped all of his clothes, and after noting the small bloodstain on his underpants, stepped gingerly into the bath.. wincing slightly from pain.

Removing her rifle, she leaned against the wall, staring out over the vast foyer, her eyes transfixed on seemingly nothing relevent. Behind her shades, she stared at the fall wall, an emblem of some form mounted high above the massive doors entering the mansion. Only from her standpoint was the marking clearly visible.....and she closed her eyes with its meaning.

The Reich was a momunment of suffering; the people alive today symbols of far greater than even they realized. They were foolish, forgetting the values in which this region was established....forgetting what it was that they had to fight for to attain what they had. She remembered though.....all of it......

Closing her eyes behind her shades, she listened to her slow and steady breathing. That much alone had remained the same; a small comfort in this world of foolish people and idealistic naive thinking. They all believed themselves to be something inherently special.....like the world owed them something just for their birth on this planet; as if they failed to realize it was their parents responsibility for their procreation and that if anything, they owed their parents and the government protecting their parents lives something.

Shaking her head, she turned her gaze back to Elric. "You are of an older age. Tell me how things have changed in your nation. Tell me how those things make you feel. Surely it must be something you have considered in your life time," she directed to him, trying to label an age to this man's figure.

Elric looked at her speculatively.

"How have things changed? Radically. Several years ago, Eutursca was little more than a dream held in common by many who had been dispossesed or alienated in their homelands. It took many years of preparation, several more of conflict, and still more of building to get Eutrusca to where she is today."

"How do I feel about all that? Exhaultant, happy, proud ... Andros Pondera, our First Citizen, and I were there from the very beginning, and modern Eutrusca is a vindication of the dreams of he and I, as well as of all those who were lost during our little revolution, had."

Turning to Lex, Levia pulled out his chair with a mild struggle from her drunkeness. Sitting on Lex's lap, she smiled up at him, licking his ear repeatedly and whispering to him, "hey there Mister."

"I'm not interested," Lex spoke, his tongue sounding like babble to Levia, who had a hard time understanding his language.

Running her hand around the back of his neck, Lex tried to push her away, to stand up and leave. Restrained by her crushing weight and his frail form, Lex felt the blood cut off to his legs. "Please get up," he begged, unable to stand the pain shooting up his legs. His body was not strong enough to hold another's weight.

Unable to understand Lex, Levia merely laughed and brought her lips just inches from his, the smell of Bourbon mingled in her breath. Lex tried to turn his head, but she held it in place firmly. "Stop," he whispered, pleading with her to leave him alone. He did not want to think of this woman; think of any sexual intercourse with a woman.

Feeling his bones about to break from her weight, Lex pleaded even further, begging for her to stand up and leave him be. Not understanding any of the jarbled language of Lex and too drunk to notice the pained expressions on his face, Levia reached her hand down toward Lex's groin.

Standing in a fit of rage, Lex's accomplice stood and reaching out with some regained energy from the meal, grabbing Levia's business jacket and yanking backward, managing to pull her from Lex. "What the hell is wrong with you people! He said to leave him alone you fucking harlot! Don't you have any respect?" the man yelled, his voice sharp and raspy, like wind brushing leaves against sandpaper.

Artemis was left to his own devices as Levia wandered away, probably looking for a bed and a bath.. he felt as if he should do the same.

Using some old urban tracking skills, it helps when you're not too abashed to ask for directions!, he found out that most of his party was in the kitchen. He was led by a soldier, who left him with a casual, half-meaning salute as soon as they were within sight of one of the entrances to the large kitchen.

As soon as he turned past the foyer into the kitchen, he saw someone swaying on a pole. Artemis broke out into a run, the laughter across the room barely registering in his mind. That looks like Travis! The thought spurred him into a faster sprint.

As he came closer, he found the man to be of similar stature to Richard's brother and panic gripped his mind. Travis swayed while gripping a pole for support, and Artemis arrived just in time to catch the boy from falling onto the floor.

"You're not Travis," the first thing out of his mouth seemed inappropriate as soon as he had said it, but he felt relief wash over him nonetheless, "sorry.. you're hurting, im going to run into that room and find help."

Artemis sat Alex down and ran deeper into the kitchen, finding himself in a scene of chaos.. someone said something about a wedgie, and he suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. Children.. drinking..

Spotting Levia, much to his surprise, he yelled loudly for help, "There's a man injured outside! Do you people have no shame?" The dancing and fun stopped, "he needs our help! Someone, quickly!"

"I see," Der Fuhrer responded to him, again remaining silent for an extended period of time lasting up to five minutes.

"The Reich has persevered through hell and we are still standing. To believe we survived the assualt led by the infamous Dante so long ago. It seemed ages ago that The Reich had managed to overcome that assualt. The Reich has gone through much....more turmoil then I can fathom. Our history is one written in the pain and blood of others. There is much to learn from their sacrifices and their suffering. I wish you could meet some of the old Reich members, but they have all perished in our history. They were some amazing people, especially that Mister Mathias Bortnainsky. He was the leading commander of The Dictatorship's Military and General to The Reich Military.....a legend," Der Fuhrer droned on, finding herself submerged in her memories of her beloved friends.

Catching her mind wondering freely, she mustered the half grin again. "I rambled there for a moment. I must say, I am proud of The Reich's endeavors. They are a constant amazement to myself," she finished, waiting for his response, wondering if he was going to take his leave soon from her presence. Surely her continuous rambles would fail to intrigue him.

Looking toward Artemis, Levia maintained composure from her position on the ground for only a moment. First she was thrown onto the floor and scolded in some foreign absurd language and now there was another man yelling at them for something else that had made no sense to her.

However, the silence was not broken by Levia, but rather Admiral Hunny*Dew who from her stationary position on the floor began to laugh wildly. "Just bring him in here for a drink! He needs something to drink!" she laughed, struggling to her feet and stumbling to the liquor cabinet to retreive a bottle of alcohol, finding a translucent colored liquor in a plain bottle.

Stumbling back, she undid the top and poured herself a glass, taking a slight whiff before sipping it. "Oh.....interesting....." she said quickly drinking more of this odd liquid.

Levia surged forward on her hands and knees, taking the bottle from Hunny*Dew and taking a swig. "You're right....mmm.....what is this?"

Transfixed by this new mysterious liquid, the both passed their bottle back and forth, as the hogtied guard struggled to break free from his restraints.

"Son of a bitch, untie me already! And don't drink that! Damn it! Don't drink that!" he cursed, trying to break free from his restraints. If it was not for the compromising position he was in, the feat would be more feasible, but being hogtied presented more problems then he had at first considered.

Seeing the man standing there looking 'mildly' irritated and disgusted, he yelled to the unknown person. "You, hey you, for crying out loud, help me the fuck out! Don't just stand there! Get me a fucking knife! We've got to get control of this situation before it gets even more out of hand," he ordered, feelings a sharp pain in his back as Levia kicked him laughing.

"Oh shut up you nitwit!" she laughed, taking another swig of the bottle before handing it back to Hunny*Dew.

"We have heard in Eutrusca of some of the struggles of your people. It's one of the reasons I am here. On my flight to meet Director Levia, I was both amazed and distressed by the level of destruction I saw. Even from the air, one gains an appreciation of what life must have been like for your people. They are to be commended that even the semblance of order still prevails."

Elric paused for a moment, thinking.

"You mention General Bortnainsky. This is his mansion, is it not?" He gestured around at the walls and beyond. "I imagine it must contain a number of wonders. How free do you think I would be to roam around?"

Der Fuhrer thought for a moment, taking in Elric and his curiousity, and the extent to which he would roam and to what he would learn if anything from these walls.

"The right wing on this floor is absolutely forbidden," Der Fuhrer warned, pointing to her left down the darkened corridor toward a sole door that stood ominiously closed in the darkness. "Absolutely forbidden. Honor his memory by respecting his privacy," she finished, suggestiing that dire consequences would arise to anyone who tried to invade Mathias's bedroom.


"Any door that is locked or sealed shut is not to even be attempted to be opened or inquired about; closed doors are no one's business in this mansion. The medical facility located on the ground level at the far right side down these stairs you are not permitted to freely explore. Only authorized personnel or people who know someone within the doors are free to enter at will; otherwise, you will need authorization to enter from someone of high Reich standing. The basement is also off limits unless you are accompanied by an escort of authorized access. Other then those strict limitations, most of the mansion has relatively free access. The Guards here have their own rules, which you are expected to follow; if you are asked to leave a place at anytime, there is no arguing it. Despite being Guards to Mathias, they have extensive experience and their word is to be respected," Der Fuhrer ended.

Thinking for a moment about this man she had just met, she straightened her features, hardening her mein. "Be advised, you do not want to break these rules," she warned coldly, her demeanor changing to that of respect to "don't fuck with me."

Artemis grew steadily angry at the foolish idiots drinking away a man's life. He quickly helped the guard with his restraint, pulling a knife out from his coat for the job.

"What are those women drinking? I hope its attention is more urgent than a man dying!" He said angrily, feeling more and more helpless against the crashing tide of the unknown. Artemis wanted a damn map of the mansion, this wouldn't be happening if he knew his way to a medical ward.

The scrawny man at the table looked to want to stand up, and help lend a hand.. but Artemis doubted that he could be of any help. The man looked as if he had been through hell and back, and there was a gnawing doubt in Artemis' mind that he could even lift his spoon again.

The guard untied, Artemis began walking toward the soon-to-be carcass of a man with the IV's hanging from his body.. he would find a way to help, with or without it himself.

Rubbing his wrists, the guard stood up and followed Artemis, taking the man's word that a man was actually dying. Seeing Alex though sitting in the chair, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Who the hell let him out of the medical facility?" he asked Artemis, expecting him to know the answer. Frustrated, he tried to grab the bottle from an over protective Levia who had retreived the bottle from Hunny*Dew again. Throwing his hands up, he walked over to Alex, feeling his head spin with one too many drinks.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Alex, who looked up at him with weak eyes.

"Where's Destiny," he asked concerned, wanting to see his sister.

"I don't know. Probably busy with something. Get back to your bed Alex. You are in no condition to be moving about. You just took a fucking massive heart attack.....you need to rest," he ordered angry that all Alex was concerned about what his sister rather then his own health.

Falling forward though, crashing against the ground, a loud manical laugher persued. Standing there with a chair, Levia laughed at the guards unconscious body.

"Oh man. It's true! The bigger you are....the harder you fall!" she laughed, supporting herself on Artemis. Seeing Alex though, her mind raced with countnless possibilities.

"Watch this," she said, pushing Artemis out of the way. "I know how to help him." Grabbing the knife she saw him use to cut free the guard, she sliced a hole into the top of the IV bag, draining half of the fluid onto the kitchen floor. Replacing the fluid with the liquid from the bottle she had placed on the table, she hooked the IV bag back up to the pole.

Grinning to Artemis with an air of confidence, she grabbed Alex's arm and ripped the IV out of his arm. Untying his gown and exposing his naked body, she found what she was looking for.....three open ports taped to his chest. Inserting the IV into it, she smiled, proud of her accomplished work.


"All better," she said, patting Alex on the back and smiling to Artemis.

Changing the drip rate before she left, she smiled again, confident in her abilities before turning back to her bottle and laughing with Hunny*Dew.


Looking up to Artemis perplexed, Alex looked at his naked body, the scars of surgery and his shriveled penis from the cold sitting there exposed like fresh wounds. Embarrassed at the sight of his own body, Alex looked down, blushing first before paling and trying to grab his gown to cover himself....more concerned with hiding his body rather then what Levia had just done to him.

"What the fuck Levia?"

"At least tell me what you've done to him! I have no experience with first aid! What if he dies? If you've killed him... either of them," he spared a look for the fallen guard, "ill personally find a way to make sure you're held responsible.

You're ALL out of control. Im going to take both of them out of harm's way. Go find a hobby!"

He hated acting old.. he hated feeling old more. Weakness consumed his flesh in comparison with the way he was years ago.. golfing sounded like fun to him now, when in his youth, he'd have much rather joined in the fracas.

"Idiots," he muttered under his breath before running out to find a couple more soldiers to help carry the guard while he led Alex back to his bed.

Artemis helped the naked, angry looking man put his medical gown back on, seeing his apparent discomfort at having them off.

"Dont worry, we'll get you back to your bed.. and hopefully find a damn doctor to figure out what she gave you. Is your arm OK?" Artemis pointed to the place where his IV had been ripped out of, "you'll have to lead me to your room... I need to find someone on the way to take that guard to the medical facility here as well."

Resting her head against the pressurized cabin's window, Genocide stared out at the vast land masses spreading out before her. Different nations, different ways of living, different structures....it would have amazed her beyond the scope of words, but under the circumstances, she could find no pleasure or majesty in anything.

The bruises on her body were covered by the frilly lace and material of her long sleeved dress, but she could still feel every hit vividly. The feel of that hard hand crashing upon her bare skin, that grasp holding her arm to keep her from struggling free, the foot to her ribcage when she fell crying. The pain remained throughout her body, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore, nothing she could do to fight the pain or even take it back. And it was forbidden to tell anyone about it, so she silently sat with bruised skin and hurting body.

Night passed quickly, fading to day quicker then usual. She slept the night through, hoping not to be awake any longer then she absolutely had to. Sleep was her only comfort....her world of pretend and magic; where little girls lived happily with their fathers and mothers and played with dolls and bears and even got to go see great exciting new places. Her dreams were the only place she could feel like she belonged.

An entire nation adored her......yet, it was never what she wanted. Why would she want these strange people following her orders? It was an adult world.....a world she wanted no part in.

And then there was those dark eyes, flashing in her dreams. That blood covered cell wall. That angry man and his rage; the danger he presented. He killed a man in front of her eyes; the very man he had traveled with.....his friend. The man showed absolutely no remorse in pulling the trigger on that other man. His heart was cold inside. He had no soul. He was not human. How could a man do that? He dared to confront her; dared to do what no other person has ever attempted in her life. And through it all, she never even learned his name.

Waking with a startle, Genocide was surprised to find a hot breakfast in front of her and a fresh cold cup of milk. Looking around to see who had brought it to her, she grabbed the fork and poked lazily at the pancakes sitting in a stack on her plate. She did not feel hungry, a sick feeling still in her stomach. She did not even take a sip of her milk.

Turning away from her breakfast, she stared back out of the window, wondering why she had to come to this strange new place. If she could hypothesis and rationalize, she may have concluded that a planned termination was in store for her. Feeling her ribs ache with each breath, Genocide wished she was in the comfort of her own bed, but then she saw that fist hit her again and again. Being on that plane thousands of miles away from her home suddenly felt comforting.....if it meant being away from those fists.

Feeling suddenly dizzy, his vision blurring, and his head spinning despite it's heaviness, which quickly began to feel lighter then it had earlier, Alex looked to Artemis for help. He groaned, feeling naseous and weak, his head filling quickly with lightness and dizziness.

Sweat beginning to soak through the thin paper like cloth covering Alex's body, Alex tried to look to Levia for help.....to undue whatever it was she had just done. But his head disconnected, floating clear off his neck, hovering about the room like a small alien spaceship.

Collapsing forward, his body fell in crumbled heap on the floor, the remainder of the IV's being forcefully ripping from their positions on the down fall, spilling their many different fluids onto the floor aside of Alex.


Looking up from their laughing, Levia and Hunny*Dew heard the crash of the IV pole that consquently fell after Alex had. Seeing Alex unmoving on the floor, Levia just rolled her eyes.

"Ah hell, don't worry. He's fine. That'll help him sleep," she said as seriously as possible, trying to fight against the giggle mounting inside of her. Catching sight of Hunny*Dew's concern, she pushed the bottle in front of Hunny*Dew. "Drink up sister! Tonight we get shitfaced."

Successfully managing to keep Hunny*Dew's attention diverted from Alex, Levia began to laugh again, arousing laughter within Hunny*Dew during the process.

Seeing Alex fallen though, Lex pushed his seat back, collapsing himself to the floor, the even small amounts of alcohol he intook being too much for him to handle. Finding something about this whole situation amusing, Lex too broke out into the contagion of laugther.

Artemis bent over and smelled the fluid that had poured out of the pointy end of Alex's IV. It didn't have much of a smell.. Alcohol?

"Was that alcohol that you put into his IV Levia?" He shouted over the bales of laughter.. but no one listened, or seemingly even heard.

Turning away angrily, Artemis felt lost. He genuinely didn't know what to do. A gut feeling in his stomach told him that Alex would probably die from whatever Levia had poisoned him with.

He sighed, I guess that I dont know exactly what was in there... some meds just smell that way. I need to stay calm and figure out a way to help Alex. That guard will be fine.

But there was nothing he could do.. Alex was in too fragile a state to just be lugged over to the medical ward, and where would I find that anyways? Artemis had never left a man behind on the battlefield, so he wouldn't give up now... what he needed was a miracle, or at least some luck.

And where the hell is Travis?

Standing up and wobbling, Hunny*Dew brought over the clear fluided liquid to Artemis, who appeared genuinely strained by the entire situation, desperately trying to help the unconscious men on the floor.

"Sir, drink up! I implore you to!" she said, shoving the bottle into his hands. "I find this drink fascinating....try. You must. By Order of The Reich, you must have a try!" she laughed, feeling her own head beginning to spin and her balance waiver.

Holding onto a chair for her dear life, she began to laugh outrageously. "The chair is floating guys! It's floating! Look!" she laughed, feeling as if her body was being lifted weightlessly from the floor.

He looked at the woman in front of him in a new light.. she had recently had her throat cut, professionally? Certainly.. a high profile woman like herself, a straight cut, deep.. she was supposed to be dead, he knew that much. Then again, after what Artemis had heard happened to Levia, she was supposed to be as well. Looking at the frail man who had fallen over but moments ago, he realized that he was in a room of dead people, or people who might as well have been.

Only taking his eyes off of the woman briefly, Artemis walked over to a nearby table where a plate of seafood sat, a plate that he had spotted out of the corner of his eye during his pleas for help.

Seafood and water..... that boy has some weird tastes.

He walked back to that other woman, a true beauty.. flawed now forever. She had stopped smiling, staring instead at him curiously. He grinned at her falsely, worried about the whereabouts and state of Travis' well being, and took the cup from her hand.. her smile resumed, but before she could go, Artemis asked her a question.

"M'lady, thank you for this drink.. I must ask, have you seen a young man named Travis lately?"

OOC: Double post! I should have never listened to Grif's stupid f*cking plan.

IC:

Travis finished his soak in the bath, pleased that he didn't pass out in the meanwhile.

Getting out, he remembered his seafood platter... After sighing in regret, he fell on the bed naked, facedown.. only wanting to shut his eyes for one moment.. just one moment.

Looking up with confusion in her eyes Hunny*Dew failed to see humor in this man's odd way of joking. She laughed though, far too much than she had meant, to try and be respectful of this man's overly sorry attempts at a joke. She would have to remind herself later to teach him how to tell jokes.

Bringing the cup to his lips, after stumbling forward in her attempts to stand, she smiled, "Drink drink!" she chirped, a lark in the morning.

Looking down to Alex now, she looked to Artemis again, "He's not dead, is he? Did you kill Alex? He doesn't look too good. Maybe we should get him help. Finish your drink first. It is not proper to waste in The Dictatorship," she smiled, turning back to Levia and laughing her ass off, feeling the whole while as if she were floating off to space....gliding for sure now.

Artemis rolled his eyes at the Admiral, deciding to drink after all.. for his stress.

He raised his glass, "for the Dictatorship."

Downing its contents and grimacing slightly at its taste, he settled in for a long night. Artemis found another bottle of bourbon in the open cabinet, and poured himself a smaller glass, smelling the pungent odor.. damn, maybe this isn't so bad after all, top quality stuff here.


---


In the meantime, Travis had been restless on his own.. he hadn't had enough to drink to just pass out, and he wasn't sleepy at all.

Getting up, still naked, and dressing in a new pair of clothes was a chore.. but the slowly increasing buzz in his head told him that a nasty hangover was imminent.. and he had to find the kitchen for another drink. He also wondered why his butt hurt. Should have brought a fucking bottle to my room, he thought agitatedly.

He walked down the hallway, following the vague memories of his trek to his room in the first place.. a few clues helped him find the kitchen again, that place where he fell down.. the tile floor where he nearly fell down, and left a black skidmark with his rubber soled boots.. and finally the loud noise coming from behind the conspicuously kitchenesque foyer.

"Dear lady, I have no intention of violating any established rules the Reich may have. We're allies you know," he smiled. "Besides, having lived through so much to have survived this long, I have no wish to effectively self-terminate."

Elirc glanced pointedly at her insignia-free uniform. "I rather suspect that you could authorize me access to the medial facility. And unless I'm seriously wrong, you could also accompany me through the basement, but I'm more interested in the medical facilities. Medical science is one of my many interests."

Glancing at Elric, Der Fuhrer merely let out a small laugh. "You seem to make the wrong assumptions about my position here Mister Elric. Not every woman in black is authorized to give you access to those places you desire. Moreso, the medical facilities are for the ill or injured, no place to roam for the sake of interest," she finished, staring behind her shades into the man's eyes.

She had a keen sense to be watchful of this man; something about him conveyed to her that he might not be the person you would allow to wonder high profile places. She would be sure to keep him on a short leash if they went to The Depths of Hell.

Taking a deep breath and feel her joints begin to tense slightly, she stood up from the wall and stretched some, feeling the pain in her legs shoot up her spine. She hated the damage done to her body; however, she was still alive.....perhaps that alone was something to be thankful for. With Mathias, Hunny*Dew, and Destiny dead though, she failed to see a reason for existence in this lowely place any longer.

"Elric, you exceed the normal age of members of The Reich. I am quite interested as to how old you are. Tell me your age and while you are at that, explain how you managed to perserve through these rough times in The Reich. A lot has happened in which your nation seems to have missed. I am curious about this," Der Fuhrer spoke authoratively, a sense of coldness beginning to seep into her voice; the coldness and complete lack of emotion that she gained from her captivity by the masters of apathy.

"My apologies if I have overstated your influence, dear lady," Elric stated, rather guardedly.

"As to my age, I was 55 just recently. As to how I managed to survive ... Eutrusca only recently joined the Reich in its struggles to survive, unfortunately not in time to have been able to assist you in the recent war. As I indicated earlier, we in the Republic are very concerned that the Reich survive to continue to contribute to stability in this corner of the world."

"I obviously still have much to learn in order to adequately assist the Reich."

Elric looked at her. "Now you have me at twice a disadvantage, dear lady. Not only do you know my name, you also know how old I am, whereas I know next to nothing about you; only things I can speculate about."

Der Fuhrer simply replaced her rifle onto her back, straightening her uniform jacket in the process. "It is not relevent at this moment. Go enjoy yourself why you can here......there is too much bloodshed in The Dictatorship to waste it in business all the time. Rarely does one have the chance to socialize."

Standing in the best posture she could manage, she nodded to Elric, acknowledging in her silent way a means of saying goodbye.

"By the way, I work for covert operations, in case you are wondering," she answered casually, revealing nothing more to her status.

"Covert Ops. Very interesting field. I've done a bit of that myself from time to time. That would explain the sniper rifle you carry."

He looked speculatively at her. "Do you carry it all the time?"

"Interesting question. I cannot answer that. I am entitled to secrecy; covert operations is not covert operations when everyone knows what you are doing," Der Fuhrer finished with a small grin spreaking across her face.

Securing her rifle, to reassure that no one can snatch it from her back as had been done in the past, she continued to watch Elric behind her shade, analyizing every slight move he made......like one of The Reich Freedom Fighters themselves.

"Understood. Perhaps someday we can trade stories about our preferences in weaponry."

"I suppose I should leave you to your current version of CovertOps. Perhaps the party in the kitchen is still in full swing," he smiled.

Finding herself laying naked on the ground, C9 sat up slowly, feeling tired and drained from her unrestful sleep. Her extenuating journey had left her exhausted and fatigued, draining all life from her. Neglecting to brush the ashes that had clung to her face and hair off, she worked her way toward the medical facility, following the path as best as she could.

Managing the corridors had become more difficult; loud noise had come from seemingly everywhere, echoing off the walls and traveling down great lengths of these hallways. Finding the need to have some sort of medicine administered to her quickly, she made great haste, making all left turns until she found herself in front of the massive doors that entered the facility.

Rushing in, she found no doctors in immediate sight. Walking further, she had an even harder time finding someone to help her. Most of the beds had been occupied by unconscious or sleeping bodies, and she began to suspect that it would be nearly impossible to find a doctor in this place. Moving toward the critical care station, she opened the doors, still in search of a doctor or even someone on their feet at this point. Finding no one, she began to search through rooms, finding nothing but unconscious body after unconscious body. Opening another room though, she found her doctor; a doctor, an unconscious body on life support wearing reflective shades, and tired looking man sitting aside of him looking battle worn.

The face struck her hard, running down her spine, freezing every nerve fiber in her body. "Richard...." she whispered quietly, the disbelief overcoming her, the thought of disillusionment overwhelming her to the point of streaming tears.

OOC:

Double Post

"Well, dear lady, I sincerely hope we shall meet again soon. For now, though, I think I hear a drink calling me." Elric smiles at her and turns to leave for the kitchen.

Travis stumbled through the hallways, taking what felt like hours to travel a route that must have only taken minutes.

"What the fuck was I thinking leaving the room this early?" he said to himself woozily..

But he had already spotted the kitchen foyer in an earlier post, so things got a little weird as he exited out of dreamland and into reality.

Spotting someone who looked a helluva lot like Artemis, Travis walked up to him with as much professionalism and control as he could muster and asked, "Artemis, what are you doing out here? Its time to party.. lets go drink."

He must have sounded drunk.. by accident of course, because Artemis turned around as if to strike him for being foolish.. but as the man turned around, Travis realized that it wasn't Artemis after all.. it was the man he had met much earlier, first in Levia's meeting room, and then at the restaurant later on.

"Elric! Nice to see you again.. how are things treating you this evening? Have you already been inside?

Lets to in and join everyone for a few drinks. I think Levia's already in there, so is a weird cannabal, and a woman without a throat. Be my guest... be my guest.. put your cannibal to the test.. no wait, thats a movie. Im sorry.. im already drunk, but I dont smell! No sir.. I dont smell."

So, with that, he walked in.. already forgetting the vast majority of his conversation with Elric, and barely remembering that he had held one at all.

OOC:

Removed for the sake of "convenience".

"I'm afraid I am not this ... Artemis you seek. I trust I will suffice though," Elric said, smiling. "I'm quite well, thank you, Travis, although sober ... a situation I hope to remedy soon, if you will direct me to the kitchen."

"Had several rather ... unusual encounters just recently. Perhaps we can discuss them later?"

"Aye, perhaps when im more sober," said Travis, upon realizing that Elric had something important to talk to him about, and having enough intelligence to realize that he was in no condition to speak of it now.

"Lets go share a drink."

So.. after walking into the room together, Travis spotted the real Artemis. He ran over in a drunken sprint, which is to mean, a wobbly gait not much quicker than a regular walk, and greeted him.

"Hello Artemis. The real Artemis, I mean... I met the fake Artemis, I mean Elric.. met him again," he sighed, "just now."

---

Artemis expressed surprise at seeing Travis drink, although he drank just as little as Travis usually did.. Richard was the drinker in their crowd.. oddly, he rose higher than them all during his reign in government.

"You're drunk," he said with mock dissapointment, despite being somewhat drunk already himself.. he decided right then and there to not drink anymore, "but I forgive you."

---

Travis introduced the two men known as Elric and Artemis before or after Elric had already grabbed a drink.. he was too out of it to realize.. and went on his merry way.. already having forgotten everything that had happened earlier (though his senses told him that nothing good had occured during a previous stay), and he grabbed a final glass of what appeared to be a clear liquid that Madam Necktie gave to him.

Elric allowed himself to be lead to the kitchen, even though the noise level was such that a deaf man could have found it.

Taking the bottle of some vile looking concoction proffered by Levia, he smiled at the man Travis introducted as Artemis. "Nice to make your acquaintence, especially after having been mis-identified as you by our friend Travis."

He held up the bottle, examining its contents skeptically. "Do you have any idea what this might be?"

Trying to help Lex up, his accomplice fell onto the floor alongside Lex, both feeling the effects of too much alcohol on their weakened bodies. Resting his head next to Lex, the man felt comfortable despite the discomfort of their situation.

"Lex.....I'm afraid of these people," he admitted behind his lack of inhibitions.


Pondering for a moment, Lex looked the man in his eyes, seeing the man's intoxication through them. "I know......I know....."

Finding humor at nothing though, Lex let out a laugh, feeling his stomach wrench slightly with the effort.


Hearing Levia's chant though, the two joined in, laughing and chanting from their positions in the back of the kitchen.....both too drunk to realize anything.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Artemis said cautiously, "especially after tasting this fantastic Reich Bourbon.. ive had but one glass, and its heavenly. Nice to meet your acquaintence, by the way.. sorry about Travis, he's not much of a drinker.. then again, neither am I."

The old man from Adyndril poured Elric a tall glass of the Reich's finest under his watchful eye. He left the bottle where it could be easily seen by the man from Eutrusca if he wanted another glass.

Pouring himself another glass, Artemis kept one eye on Travis' fun while ensuring that he paid complete attention to Elric.. in case they began talking.

Seeing "fresh meat" enter the kitchen, Levia grabbed the bottle from Hunny*Dew who now laying on the ground struggling with every passing secong to hold on for dear life, as if the shift of gravity was sending her body spinning across the floor. The laughter was contagious, reaching volumes that were not thought to be humanly possible.

Crawling by now, she managed to get to her feet, bare feet and panyhoseless. Holding the bottle out, she laughed, "Oh you......drink.....drink.....drink," she began the infamous fraternity chant, which happened to be loudly supported by the laughing Hunny*Dew on the ground.

"Thank you!" Elric slid the bottle Levia had handed him out of sight on the counter, and held the glass of "fantastic Reich Bourbon" up to the light.

"Very clear and smooth looking," he commented, taking a sip.

His eyes widened.

"You are indeed correct, my new friend. This is finest quality."

He took another, larger sip.

"Hmmm. I shall have to send some of this back to Eutrusca at the earliest opportunity. We may have a new trade item here!"

Grabbing her precious bottle, Levia took another long swig, gulping more than her mouth could hold, spilling the remainder down her front. Laughing loudly, she began her chant again, "Drink.....drink......drink!"

"Come on your bastards," she laughed, "Take it like a man!"

Elric glanced in Levia's direction, regarding her with some distain, then returned to examining the glass of excellent Bourbon.

"Director Levia seems to be beyond the point of no return, Artamis. I certainly hope she retains sufficient self-control to avoid a nasty scene."

This whole scene reminded Elric of a mob of the Republic University's drinking squad on holiday in a roomfull of alcohol. He wished he could excuse himself and head back to his room, but protocol dictated that when in the Reich, do as the Reich members did.

He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Happily obliging Levia's request for everyone to drink.. Travis gulped more down, he was quickly becoming completely incapacitated.. he knew that he was already drunk, but this last glass had brought him beyond that point.

--

Artemis meanwhile responded to Elric, "Aye.. I hope things remain controlled.. but this is a celebration. There's nothing to do but be diplomatic here, thats my stance at least.. and its rare that diplomacy comes with such good..." he looked at his glass, "rewards."

With that, Artemis took another large swig of the glass.

Grabbing the bottle from Artemis and Elric, Levia sat on Artemis's lap, facing Elric. "So men.....you ready for a good time?" she winked, taking a swig while feeling her head spin and her body gradually become lighter then air.

One thing was for certain.....this WAS going to be a very long night.

Elric was beginning to feel the effects of the truly excellent Bourbon, spreading from his stomach like a banked fire, slowly suffusing his entire frame with a gentle sense of wellbeing. He thought, not for the first time, that his position in life often accorded some rewards, and this Bourbon was quickly becoming one of his favorites.

Elric smiled benignly at the totally inebriated Levia.

"Who would have thought that the seemingly straitlaced Director Levia could be such fun?"

He leaned forward and kissed her, then went back to his Bourbon, which was getting distressingly low.

"Artamis, where is the bottle? This is addictive," he held up his empty glass.

Artemis knew he should be shocked from the diplomatic strain of everything that Levia was doing... but he felt pliant.. he felt.. floaty, weak, disconnected.. and Levia was a beautiful woman.

He wouldn't let himself be weak.. but he was fast becoming so. Artemis slowly wished that he hadn't had anything to drink tonight.. he would regret it in the morning, with weird thoughts about Levia, and with such a low tolerance for alcohol. His one solace was that Travis was learning a lesson larger than his own.. and would likely go without the drink for years.

A smart boy.. ive got to give him that at least. He WILL learn, and I hope his headache and pains are more than he can bear for it all too.

At Elric's request, Artemis picked up the bottle and slid it across the table to him.

Levia held the bottle before Elric, leaning forward and placing her hand on Elric's leg, running up slowly.

"You are being naughty Elric......" she tantilized, before beginning to slowly undue Elric's pants.

Elric gave Levia an arch look and sipped his Bourbon.

"Levia, who would have expected such behavior from the prim, professional Director?"

Elric could barely contain the urge to jump her right then and there!

Hunny*Dew, feeling the need to have to pee, quickly got to her knees after a moment's struggle. Crawling, she fell forward, striking her face of the hard floors of the kitchen. Continuing to crawl, she made her way past Lex and his accomplice toward the back of the kitchen, turning let and down the small corridor there.

Not feeling able to make it to the bathroom, she dropped her drawers in the middle of the corridor and urinated right there and then, having no sense of dignity through her drunkeness.

Pulling down his undergarments, Levia grabbed the bottle, and with great force, jammed the bottle top up to Elric's rectum.

Laughing mischeviously, she fell off her chair and continued to laugh wildly, feeling as if she might spew her guts onto the floor.

OOC:

Another double post.

Struggling to maintain what was left of his shattered dignity, Elric gingerly removed the offending bottle and presented it to Levia.

"Souviner," he said, archly.

Hearing the sounds of laughter becoming increasingly loud, Der Fuhrer painfully took each step at time, feeling as if her fragile bones would shatter to a thousand pieces with each descent. Reaching the bottom had been more then thankful to her screaming body, as her steps began to heavily falter. She had begun to fear complete limb failure, but with the flat foyer's floor, she found the pain level decreasing slightly.

Working her way into the kitchen, Der Fuhrer silently stood there as she watched the chaos amid her. Everyone was to some degree intoxicated, while unconscious bodies lay sprawled or heaped randomly on the floor, with no one tending to those men’s conditions. Unseen, she continued to watch the scene, arms crossed and features hardening with each laugh and neglect of the unconscious men, one who had been straight from the medical facility.

She grew increasing appalled though when she had seen Elric kiss Levia and their foreplay continue for a moment, ending with sodomy and hysteria. Feeling the rage of these people’s poor conduct within Stadt, she took a strong deep breath. "How can they celebrate when Mathias and Hunny*Dew are dead? How can they conceive having fun when Destiny had taken a bullet to save their Fuhrer?

Raising her voice, the cold enforcing fury of a dictator with no tolerance, she yelled, “ENOUGH! Silence you impudent fools. Enough! You dare degrade the sanctity of this mansion with your foolishness! Elric, at least you I would have expected more of after our conversation. Enough with all of you! You will not party as the daughter of Atticus Ruhumunah lies dead in this mansion! You will not conceive of celebrating when Mathias Bortnainsky and Admiral Hunny*Dew are dead. You will NOT party with Mathias dead. You will respect their memories and honor their deaths. Now clean this mess up at once and take those men to the damn infirmary. You will not disrespect honorable members of The Reich,” she finished, the furty burning behind the reflective shades with the hard features set on her face further confirming the seriousness of her mien.

Turning abruptly, despite the pain from her legs, she left the room, a hard set jaw and ruthless intolerant demeanor.

A bit stunned, Elric placed his glass on the counter and moved off after the woman he had talked with earlier. Although the encounter with Levia had been largely her doing, he had to admit to himself that he had allowed it to progress that far.

"Dear lady, wait!"

Hearing the overpowering enforcing yell, Levia looked up to meet the face of a woman she had believed to be dead. Had Admiral Hunny*Dew not broadcasted that Der Fuhrer Dyszel had gone missing and was suspected to be dead?

"Mein Fuhrer," she whispered to Der Fuhrer's turned back, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea overwhelm her. She could not control the upheave, as her body repelled the liquid she forced into it all night. Throwing up a combination of chunky looking, deep red brown colored liquid, Levia scrambled to her knees, unable to control her repelling body.

"Fuck," she murmured as another upheave sent more of the mixture onto the floor. This was not what she had imagined her first serious impression on Der Fuhrer Dyszel being.

Neglecting Elric's plea to wait, Der Fuhrer continued to walk away, not even sparing so much as a glance back at them. She was ashamed that these people could find this amount of pleasure through so many people's suffering and death.

Feeling her legs give out, she collapsed in great pain four times, catching herself on a fifth fall on her way up the main staircase. Turning right, she tried to rush herself to Mathias's bedroom, feeling the burning in her eyes take over.

Once inside, she closed the door quickly and silently, sliding down the door; huddling next to it while she grasped her knees and brought them closer to her chest. She let the tears out, crying silently but steadily. Taking the time to calm down, she took a few deep breaths before resting her head against the door, taking notice to the man who was standing in front of her staring at her coldly....those same dark reflective shades covering his eyes, that suit neatly framing his body and defining his manly physique.



Three One, awoken when she had entered the room, stood to meet her attention, only to realize that she had not noticed him the slightest. Watching her breakdown, he silently stood there and let her release whatever it was building up inside of her.

"She is crying? They brutally tortured her and broke her without nothing, not a tear not a scream.....and yet here she is crying without an ounce of control or care..... How? Why? That girl.... She is crying for that girl. I don't understand.....why would she care about that? Ties to people only hold one back, so why would she care if these people die? She didn't cry when she lost her entire nation....why cry now?" his mind tried to process as Der Fuhrer finished crying, meeting her gaze with his, making it known now that she knew he was there.


"The plane is ready," was all Three One could say, tied by the fact that he did not understand this woman, confused more by the fact that he did not know how to respond for once.


Der Fuhrer just nodded, struggling to stand again. Failing, she fell hard to the ground, muttering a light curse and punching the ground.


Unsure of what to do, Three One moved forward, trying to assist her in standing. That was, until she threw his arm away from her. "Get away from me. Just leave me alone," she murmured.


Feeling a pang of guilt arise in him, Three One stepped back unassure of his actions. Stepping forward again, he tried to help her stand again.

"I said leave me alone. I will do it on my own," she cried, feeling the pain of her bones beginning to fracture from the weakened bone and pressure.


"Yes Der Fuhrer," he responded, feeling his stomach tighten and knot. He felt as if he should be doing something. He was against this woman though, and yet here he stood, wanting to help her.

Confused, he stepped out of the room, standing the darkened hallway with his own back pressed against the closed door. Everything he was ever taught suddenly made no sense to him.....is this what Code Six had experienced? Is this why Code Six suddenly turned his back on the very organization he commanded?

Strumming his fingers along the drizzle dipped pane of glass set not far from the ground, Mathias stared blankly out into the darkened gray of that early morning. The weather was ominous, foreboding of a long remorseful day, shadowed by misery and suffering....the last two days had been this way. Even with Dante regaining mild consciousness and coming out of his brush in with fatal septic shock, Mathias could not celebrate this happiness. Something more foreboding and dark loomed beyond those menacing gray rain clouds.

Mathias used to take great pleasure in days like this; solemn rainy days of isolation....he tended to do some great work on days like this. However, today was not one of those brain challenging days where he mastered the formula he had been persistently trying to perfect for months on end. Taking a strained deep breath, Mathias closed his eyes, envisioning a life that he had once been part of.....had once enjoyed living within.

He was breathing heavily, sharply, fast, uncontrollable pain. His face was sitting in his own blood when he opened his eyes; his head resting on shattered glass that was strewn across the large mahogany desk that was now misplaced and pinning him into the far wall of that office. He tried to move, but unbearable pain surged from every nerve fiber of his body, overwhelming him. Blood soaked tears squeezed themselves free from his unrelenting hard featured face; forcing their way from his lacrimal glands despite his will. His eyes tried desperately to flush the blood from eyes....and with red blurred vision, he tried to search the darkness for some answers.

He lifted his hand despite the pain, the blood stained white paleness shocked him, indicating to him enough that he had suffered immense blood loss during his moment of unconsciousness. Mustering enough strength, he used his arm to lift his torso from the desk; it was disconnected, or so it felt. Fear crept in.....his legs were not there. Instead, a large sharp edge of dripping red glass jutted from his abdomen, seeming to completely sever his torso from his hips. He could not feel his legs, nor stand, and it was almost imminent to him that he had been cut into two.

The heavy thudding of shoes crunching glass came toward him though. Weakness settled, his arms gave way, and his torso collapsed back onto the desk, sending the pane of glass further through him, emerging from his back like the infamous fin of a dangerous ocean lifed predator. All there was in that moment was blood, pain, and darkness.....

And then, "Well well well... Bortniansky..."

Mathias inhaled sharply, smelling blood that seemed to emanate from his dream. He had dosed off without meaning.... yet, even if it was a dream, why was he still smelling blood? Turning painfully, his joints now stiffened again, he jumped in fright, nearly losing control of his bladder in the process. Death sat aside of him, dripping its bodily contents onto the floor without so much as a care in the world; it shrugged at him and grinned its snarling abyss.

"Bortniansky," it called coldly, deep, a bone-chilling name whispered from the bowels of hell.

"Bortniansky," it called again in that same cold blood freezing voice.

"Wake the hell up," the rage cursed surged, burning him with its harshness.

Snapping to consciousness, Mathias shook his head tiredly, staring into the burning pools of rage and darkness before him. Dante was before him, sitting hunched over in a wheelchair, with his nose and cracked lips dripping blood onto his barren body, covered only by a pair of thin white boxers, now speckled with droplets of red.

Mathias felt a pang of shame arise him; despite his condition, he at least did not look like a complete bag of shit like Dante had at that moment. Looking as if he was suffering from the final stage of AID's, Dante sat still trembling and weakly hunched over in a chair, bleeding from the exertion of blood pressure that burst his capillaries in the most sensitive areas of his body.

Unable to manage any facial expressions, Dante merely whispered weakly, "I know....I look like shit. Look, we're gettin' outta here."

Staring into the face of the man who destroyed his life, Mathias could no longer understand how anything worked. Dante was no longer himself; he, himself, was no longer sane..... How could any of this make sense? Be certain? Can Dante even be forgiven in both their states?

Taking another labored breath, Mathias stared into the wreck of man, heaped into that chair. He had survived hell and back, and here he was sitting before them as none of it had ever mattered.....as if it were all some sort of misconception or figment of imagination.

No dissuaded in the slightest, Dante took a weak break himself, barely filling his lungs enough. He was too weak to hold himself up, but it would not stop them from their departure. Through all of this chaos and confusion, this new distorted information and absurdness, illness and injuries, he was certain of only one thing......they needed to get the hell out of there. He knew nothing else for certain, even his own named failed to come to mind many times of late, but he was positive within the blackness known as his mind that they needed to leave this place. That there was some other place they needed to be right now, anywhere even, just not this very place.

Nodding, Mathias acknowledged Dante's request. However, he doubted the liability of this man's weak assertions. Dante was in no condition to travel, nor were they capable of leaving this place without the help of the others. From the edging corner of his mind, the possibility that Dante had gone insane began to creep forward, taking slowly an inch at a time.

"Diehl," Dante tried to call out as loudly as possible, sounded as if the man was in significant distress.

But with the weak plea came in an older man, standing before them, aged and ripened to perfection.

"Sir, it's agreed then?" the man's commanding raspy voice aridly arose.

"Yeah...." Dante weakly mustered, coughing a few times in the process, bringing up a mess of saliva and blood into his paled fragile hands.

"Alright, now let's get you back to bed sir," he insisted quickly, rushing over to assist Dante out of the room. He simply gave a hasty nod to Mathias before retreating in blink out of the room, taking the sickly looking wreck with him.

Staring in a brief state of utter confusion, Mathias merely shook his head, turning his vision back to the rain painted glass. Light trickles and thuds soothed the sound of emptiness within this place as Mathias wondered what the hell was happening; wondering if everything that had just transpired was all a product of his imagination or if he really had witnessed Dante speaking to him. But the thought entered his mind; the spirit of a victim stalking its murderer, "Is this all in my head?"

Violently shaken awake, Genocide looked around in a mild panic, trying to determine the extent of what had moved her. The Guards were no where in sight, all having seemingly abandoned her.

"Oh no," she whispered to herself, a despondant feeling of helplessness coming over her.

She looked around frantically....no one in immediate sight. Ready to cry in fear of being alone and forgotten, she caught sight of one of those steady strong figures entering the cabin from behind the doors to the cockpit.

Seeing Genocide awake, like a frightened puppy who had just heard footsteps enter the house, the Guard moved quickly toward her, taking a seat next to her. "Hey, it's just turbulance. We've run into some small problems with maintaince and we might have to make an emergency rough landing on some ships that are silently stationed outside of The Dictatorship if worse comes to worst. We'll have the area secured of course before we land, so don't worry about anything. We've got it all under control. And hey, my name is Halzloff, if you need me," he finished with a reassuring wink, trying to bring some comfort to this frightened girl.

"Why do you protect me?" Genocide asked quietly, the thought playing at her mind.

Giving a grin, he rested his hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer toward him, "I have a daughter just about your age. I know it's hard not having a father. I guess I just to treat you like I'd want my own daughter to be protected is all. I think you two would get along pretty good......but I know making friends isn't part of your life...." he ended quickly, trying not to delve further into the knowledge he knows about the secret life of Genocide.

Shrugging, trying to maintain a level of carelessness, Genocide mustered a weak giggle, "Are we there yet?"

Shaking his head with a short laugh, he merely stood up and walked to the back of the plane, retrieving cookies and milk.

Staring out into the dark clouds that lined the outskirts of The Dictatorship, Genocide shuddered......it was all too close to reality to pretend now.

Elric tried to catch up with the departing woman, but by the time he had worked his way past the stumbling drunks and reached the door, she was far down the corridor. Almost running, he tried to catch up with her, but she moved surprisingly fast, despite stumbling several times. He reached the foot of a staircase just as she reached the top and disappeared into a huge doorway to the right.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase, his thought processes slowly overcame the effects of the Bourbon and caught up with him. Had she not warned him to avoid this portion of the mansion? Yes. This was the way to the bedroom of the mansion's former owner, Bortnainsky. Having obviously offended her by his behavior in the kitchen, he had no desire to further agitate her.

Then he recalled the phrase Levia had whispered with a type of dispair: "Mein Fuhrer." Could it be? Could this woman be in fact The Fuhrer Dyszel?

Lost in a welter of his own thoughts, Elric turned and began to retrace his steps.

Artemis stared in obvious shock as the dark woman gave them all a thorough dressing down and left again in a huff, Elric soon after in tow.

"I guess the fun's over," he said, gathering his coat and walking towards Alex's still passed out body.

Standing over his body, he sighed with regret.. the only reason he wasn't murderously angry was because the man was still breathing, even if that breathing was laboured and pained.

He thought back to what she had said, and felt even guiltier not knowing that all these people near and dear to many had died so recently. Bismirching their names with a raucous party should have been last on his list of things 'to-do' upon arrival.

Vision swaying and legs feeling weak, he called aloud, "is anyone able to help me bring this fellow to the infirmary?"

When no one answered, he asked another question, "fine, is anyone able to at least give me directions?"

Crawling back on all fours, with her uniform dirt covered and undone, Admiral Hunny*Dew laughed loudly, breaking the eerie silence that had taken over after Der Fuhrer Dyszel's presence. Seeing the serious faces of those in the room and the heavy guilt laden air surrounding the area, Hunny*Dew scrambled to her feet, stumbling forward, before catching herself and trying to run over to the other end of the room.

"What happened?" she slurred heavily, feeling dizzy with a wretching stomach.

Seeing Levia vomitting on her knees, a wave had overtaken her, but stifling it quickly, she repelled the act of emesis. Standing before Artemis, she looked at the unconscious, but still alive, body of Alex. Remembering their trials, she began to see lucidly through her drunkeness.

"I'll take you to get him help," she whispered. "Levia, when you get up, help bring over Lex. We'll get help in the medical facility to get everyone else over."

Unsure of why Artemis suddenly skeptically looked at her as if she were in no place to be giving orders, Hunny*Dew simply smiled gently, her singsong voice breaking through the slurred speech, "I am acting Fuhrer. You'll have to trust my word kind sir."

Overcome though by a wave of depressed thoughts at her fallen friends, Hunny*Dew's pleasently smiling face dropped into a lamentful remorse. She struggled against her all to keep the tears back at the thought that she was the only one left now. "I'm sorry.....follow me," she quietly spoke, trying her damnedest to control her emotions, as she led Artemis out of the room and across the massive devastated looking foyer, continuing down the left side of the mansion.

The room had a window. Small consolation, but it could be worse. What good that window was, well, that could be debated, as of course, like any window in the mansion, it looked onto a panorama of ruin.

Sitting on the bed, idly looking out this window, but not really looking at anything in particular, was the small, pale woman known as Erzsebet Sorvik. She had been shuffled off to this bedroom upon arriving back at the mansion, ignored and feeling quite irrelevant. Not that anything was relevant now. Oh, how odd it was to come full circle again to this immense building, impressive in its vastness but a husk of its former glory as it sat presiding over wreckage of a once great city.

In some ways, despite obviously being opposite in size, it and Erzsebet had this in common. Once ravishingly beautiful, the body of the Callisdrunian vampiress bore clear signs of the physical and emotional burdens that she had recently been subjected to. She was thinner, and not in a good way, her cheekbones sticking out and exposing her weariness. Her glorious ebony hair was matted with blood and sweat. Though, as could be expected of a moroii, her skin had always been pale, it had used to be bright, vibrant with lustful life. Now, it had taken on an almost grey tint, and looked... worn.

Still, despite having bags beneath them, Erzsebet's emerald eyes burned with the same intensity they had always possessed, wild and beautiful in their savagery, the lenses with which a woman who simply did not do moderation, passionate in both love and hatred, viewed the world.

And what a world it was. How had everything gone so wrong? Upon arriving at her room, she had done the only thing there was to do: her laundry. This simple task gave some semblence of order and reason to a universe that seemingly had abandoned both, and as she washed her clothes mechanically, she pondered the situation with what could nearly be called cynical amusement. She also needed to be cleaned, but that had to wait for tomorrow, night was approaching and it was growing too cold to wash herself.

Erzsebet's thoughts had touched on questions of what her relatives would be doing right now. The Sorvik moroii clan, her family, was from Drun, and enjoyed a rich history longer even than her native land's, though they were probably equally bloodsoaked, the latter was more tragic. The fact that the land of her birth had made it as long as it had was somewhat amazing, given the historical accounts of its enemies being bent on its subjugation. Callisdrunians were, by and large, pagans. And they were all too aware that after most of the world around them had Christianized, it became a somewhat unfriendly place for members of their ancient religion.

Yet, through valient struggle and policies that others would call isolationist, her people had remained free, a last remnant of what they considered, perhaps a bit arrogantly, a better time, retaining a stable government for just under 1200 years now.

But for what? Erzsebet could not help asking herself in her head. Did it really matter anymore? This war was more horrible than anything she had even heard of. Sure, enemies had wanted to subjugate Callisdrun's people and eradicate the vampiric part of the population, but in this war that she was stuck in the middle of now, whole nations had been destroyed. Hel, she was sitting in one right now. How could anyone be optimistic about it? It seemed as if the whole world would slaughter itself. Is this Ragnarok? The doom of the gods?. Erzsebet was a communist, but also a devout follower of her people's ancient pagan religion, and the question in her mind was not a rhetorical metaphor, but completely serious. Things seemed so hopeless now that it really could be the end of everything.

As she sat alone in the room, naked on the bed, waiting for her clothes to dry, she felt a bitter pang of regret. What have I done with my life? Erzsebet wondered, unable to find an adequate answer. She had served honorably and enthusiastically in the military, that was true. But was that all? Could she be nothing more than a killer? She looked at her axe, resting near the pillow. I can destroy life but I will never create it. That old haunting thought... always reappearing from when it happened almost ten years ago... it came back harsher than ever.

Erzsebet felt like a pathetic weakling doing it, but at the moment, she didn't even realize it, as she curled up on the bed, pulled a blanket over herself for warmth and awaited sleep's arrival, tears soaking the pillow cover.

Nipping and biting with terrible pain, the fair skinned blonde woman sat up next to her fire. She was suffering the cold of this night for so very long that she had grown irritated with her suffering; frustrated even further when she realized that the thought had not come to her earlier. All this time she was but five miles from Konigsreich der Mathias and she had not gone there for refuge.

Tightening her jacket, she stood up from the fire, bundled her thick heavy jacket more closely around her. She would run.....run as far as she could to the mansion. If worse came to worse, she would die....and the prospect of that event lifted her spirits some as she stepped forth into the subzero Dictatorship temperatures.

Not looking back, she broke into a run, jogging slowly to gain more distance then she would have if she went into a full run.

Struggling on her last mile, she barely made it to the front door before collapsing. Hunched and breathing heavily, the sweat cooling and beginning to freeze on her, she weakily lifted her hand to knock on the door, pounding as hard as she could in hopes that someone would be there.....that someone could let her in.

OOC:

Hello again everyone, it has been sleeping here awhile, but we really need to get things started.

Who needs to make a move:
* Richard- played by Adyndril
* Callisdrun, you need to move and get into action
* Eutrusca, if you are still RPing, you need to make a move

Someone needs to get to Lux (outside the building) I need to move many of my characters and will be working on that only when I see an honest attempt from you all to move your characters.

Slate colored waves lay beneath them for as far as the eye could see; harsh waves lapping and biting at each other, crashing into the oblivion of darkness that sprawled its evil out before them. The sky was no different, thick black clouds clashing, blending together, a furious combination accompanied by flashes so brilliant and sounds so thunderous that it shook the ground for miles.

Still he stared, that once fearsome inferno burning inside now dead....staring blankly, as apathetic as a rock, as they flew into the eye of the storm. Skin once dark and olive colored now pale and colorless, dulled from years of bodily abuse. His body....the pinnacle of man....wasted away into a figure barely capable of supporting its own head. The years of war, the years of malnutrition, the abuse....it was worn into every aspect of his being and he feared that his life was now at its end.

Coughing up blood, he stirred awake the man next to him. A similar man of structure, similar man of appearance, and even more so, a man with a similar past. Together they shared the same blood shed, the same pain, the same hurt, the same abuse....now, they shared the same effects; the wasting away of their bodies with each passing second.

Unable to speak, the awoken man's face distorted into a look of concern. He tried his hardest to nonverbally ask if the other man needed anything....but his body was too weak to correctly communicate.

"I'm dying Mathias. I don't think I'll make it back to The Reich," he weakly spoke as droplets of blood fell involuntarily from his nose and lips.

Shaking his head, Mathias refused to believe that they had come this far for nothing. Defeat was not an option at this point; not when they had come back from death's door this many times. It would eventually get them both, he knew, but not now, not in a plane on their way to finish a war started so long ago.

But the man's hands began to shake violently, more blood coming up with each cough. The speed they were flying at unprecedented; never before seen in The Reich...and yet...too slow to save their lives.

Fear clenched Mathias's heart though, tightening the muscle, restricting blood flow to his body. He too was dying and rapidly. Whatever chemicals thrived in his body had somehow stalemated....leaving him in a near death state unable to recover from. Only managing to shake his head again, he fought back a wave of despondence.

"Mathias...." the other man gasped, a short rapid breathing overtaking the other man. The blood kept dripped, faster and faster, until the man was hunched over, grabbing at his chest and hyperventilating.

Unable to move, Mathias watched the man fall against the window, the blood streaking its way down the translucent cold surface as the man's body slid forward.

"Dante....." his mind called out, his arm reaching out futilely to grab his friend. When the tips of his fingers brushed the surface and failed to grasp his friend, he realized the severity of their situation. Alone they were, unable to save the other, fighting for their lives in an impossible hell. Why?

Grabbed by an older man, Dante was cradled into his arms. "No no no....not now Dante. Not now sir, we only have a few more hours. Please sir....just a little longer.....just a little longer," he called to the man, injecting something into the man's arm as he held on tightly. Turning to Mathias, "we can't lose him. We need him," he almost pleaded, begging for a solution to save his fallen leader.

Mathias, unable to give him that answer, merely lowered his head in defeat. The man known for his instantaneous solutions left with nothing. They truly were at their end....

Biting frost nipped at Lux's nose; so close to safety, but no more energy to even lift her arm to open the massive doors she lay in front of. The temperature dropped a degree every minute as Lux began to question whether or not she would survive the night without shelter. She lived amid this ruined city for long enough to know how brutal the nights were, but never had she attempted to spend that night outside without a fire or anything to keep in her body heat.

No one had come to answer her knock. She was but less then a foot from certain life and now she lay outside for almost certain death. Curling up and grabbing her knees, she tried to converse the little body heat she had. If worse came to worse, she would have died at least trying.

An hour passed....two....her heart rate dramatically dropped. Her normal 75 beats per minute was now a decreasing 58. Her breathing had also dropped and her respirations became deep and slow, her body sluggish, pulling her body heat toward her central organs and cutting off peripheral blood flow, resulting in a numb nothingness in her arms and legs.

She no longer shivered, her body long into the stages of hypothermia. Light flushed over her though; bright blinding light. She would have sworn she was dead if it was not for the feeling of being lifted of the hard ground. A faint voice was heard, although the words did not register inside her head.

Finding herself feeling at peace finally, an unexplainable peace, she rested her head against the soft surface covering this person's chest. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the peacefulness filling her and almost instantly she fell to sleep.



The man carrying her did not speak; he did not even remove a hood that covered most of his face. With hunched back, he carried this woman into the mansion, adverting his gaze from anything but what was two feet in front of him on the floor. Instead of turning left, the man walked up the main stair case....apparently familiar with the inner workings of the mansion.

Turning right, the man headed toward a bedroom forbidden to all. Submerged by the dim lighting of this wing, he disappeared from view into the darkness, slowly, each step at a time.

The presence of another man nearby did not startle him and he stopped only when he heard the distinct locking of a gun. The words following invoked no fear, a voice cold and cutting, "Stop now. Do not go further."

He did not raise his head to look at this man. "Sir, lower your weapon. I am of no harm to you. I come only to deliver this woman to Mein Fuhrer," he spoke, his voice soft, barely audible, almost dancing in the man's head.



Three One hesistated slowly, running through the implications of his actions. This man did not appear to be of a threat, but something seemed unnatural with the strange man's presence. He had with him a woman, clad in white, pale as a ghost, with hair so blonde it even appeared white. It almost seemed as if he were carrying an angel with him.

"Go along," he spoke, lowering his voice and authority over the situation. "Be careful, Der Fuhrer is not happy with us."



Continining on, the man opened the door, walking into the darkened room. He heard Der Fuhrer aside the bed, talking to a person long since expired. Laying Lux on the bed, aside of the deceased Destiny, the man walked over to Der Fuhrer on placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Rise up Mein Fuhrer. It's time you return to your people. I will take care from here. You are needed elsewhere."



Lifting her head, Der Fuhrer looked to the man, a blood red cloak covering his figure; his back distorted and hunched forward. "I know you," she spoke unassured, trying to recall the past.

"Yes."

Running through a plethora of memories, she found herself recalling distantly, vaguely, dark red wings. It all came together. "Flex," she whispered.

"Yes."

"You are alive."

"I am."

"You came back."

"I did."

"Welcome back."

"Thank you Der Fuhrer. Go now, your people need you. This place is in ruin and disorder. Your people need a leader."

Lowering her head, she felt a pang of guilt in her stomach, a flush of shame overcome her. "I am afraid that I am no longer able to rule over my people. In this time of need, I have failed them, failed to be a leader, failed to save them from this pain and suffering."

"You will only fail when you give up Der Fuhrer," Flex spoke softly, angelic in tone.

"I can no longer walk."

"But you can stand."

Nodding her head, Der Fuhrer stood, feeling a sharp pain travel up her legs and back. "It hurts so much," she admitting finally, tears playing at the corners of her eyes.

"It has made you stronger Mein Fuhrer. Find that strength; use it....you shall succeed."

"Flex.....I failed to save Dante's daughter and now she has waged war on everything that makes up this region."

"Genocide is but merely a child. She is young and fearful. She hides it well, but she needs someone to guide her; someone to direct her. You can still uphold Dante's dying wish Mein Fuhrer....find her, be her guide, and never give up."

Smiling, Der Fuhrer replaced the shades over her eyes. "That person....tell me who it is."

"I do not know. I found her outside the mansion on the way back. She is tired and weak; I will care for her."

"Have her see me when she awakes. I would like to speak with her. And thank you Flex."



Turning from Flex, Der Fuhrer felt a wave of calmness wash over her. She felt reassured, strong, no longer weak and fatigued. She felt renewed as if something has possessed her body. The pain in her joints seemed washed away as she walked out of the room. She knew what she had to do.....and even though she no longer had her friends to stand aside of her, she felt confident. They would stand up to Genocide and they would stand strong.....even if they had to fight until the end.

Deep withing The Depths of Hell, the eerie depths of something dark seemed to lurk in every dark corner of the base. It twisted and turned, stalking the nothingness that consummed the base. Laughing, it gleamed, the figure of a child emerging from the darkness, walking through the base slowly, swaying her white dress back and forth as she giggled....her black raven locks bouncing with each step.

She traveled the lenght of the base, disappearing into the darkness intermittingly. Eventually, she made her way to the very back of the base, an area so rarely accessed. She continued toward a door, giggling all the way. Disappating into the air, she stopped right before the door.



From within the base, a woman's voice sounded, official and mechanical, echoing off every wall into the farthest reaching areas of the base. "All systems down and unable to resist takeover.... Infecting sectors 'F' through 'L'.... Mutating code.... Takeover complete.... Incorperating COSP into sectors 'F' through 'L'.... Rewriting code.... Incorperation complete.... Sectors 'F' through 'L' under Red Queen control."

[ooc: kindof scared this has been going so long as to before i left, and now i come back and find its still going o.O; anyway, tag for reading again and maybe to jump in later if possible]

OOC:

Rave, you are more then welcome to continue if you like. I can help fill you in on what you had missed. Not much has transpired because we haven't been active with the summer and classes.

Troubled by nightmares, Erzsebet tossed and turned in the bed that served as the venue for her sleep, which was so transpiring so fitfully that she was unlikely to feel much better afterword, despite being a bit more rested. In the end, her slumber was simply not peaceful enough to sustain itself, and she awoke, screaming in anguish, the spectres that haunted her dreams truly terrible.

Sorvik simply sat upright in bed for some minutes, staring into the dark. Naturally, unlike other humans, she felt completely comfortable in darkness, her eyes had been calibrated by nature through generations of evolution to work best at low light levels. Night was not a fearful time for her, why, in fact, a vampiress who was afraid of the dark would be a truly preposterous idea.

Having made a mental decision, Erzsebet got up and went out the door into the hallway. She was still unclothed, and perhaps that might offend some, but she didn't care. Rationality now came and went from her mind, though, at home she frequently went without the use of clothes when she didn't need protection from the elements, which was the case when inside. In Callisdrun, clothes had two purposes: protection and decoration. The Callisdrunian idea of modesty had everything to do with the way one acted and nothing to do with what one wore, or didn't. Besides which, despite being on average more intelligent than other humans, moroii were somehow, paradoxically still more connected the core animalistic parts of human nature.

Finally, the moroii reached her destination. She was slightly thirsty, but not for blood this time. After looking around in the kitchen for some minutes, she found what she was after, and proceeded to make herself a tasty cup of hot chocolate, with whipped cream on top. Erzsebet soaked in its warmth and wonderfully rich taste, and though she would never be able to forget what she had done, and would always have that voice inside telling her she was a monster, that did not keep her from trying. Chocolate was a fairly good distraction.

After clearing the kitchen and reassuring that all injured or compromised people were secure within the medical facility, Admiral Hunny*Dew worked her way back to the kitchen. The place was a disaster; shattered glass sprinkled the floor, alcohol lay in random puddles sprawled out on the floor throughout the entirety of the kitchen.

Sighing, Hunny*Dew shook her head only to notice someone sitting behind an alluring cup of hot cocoa. Attracted to the lucrative smell, Hunny*Dew sat before the person she momentarily recognized to be Erzsebet. "Ah, Miss Erzsebet, I am glad to see you about. How has Stadt been treating you?" her singsong voice sounded with a hint of skeptism; knowing in advance that they all had been through hell beyond their wildest imaginations.

Not waiting for a response, she continued on, a desperate need to fill this desolate silence that claimed The Dictatorship. "I am afraid that I will be unable to protect The Reich like Der Fuhrer had done so. It all seems so long ago. She protected us all so well. Sure, we may have lost The Dictatorship in the process, but she protected us, our people, this region. I'm sure that stands for so much more then this nation. And now, she is gone. We are left here with this devastated hellhole and now I am left to run it all. I'm afraid to fail you all. I'm afraid I can't be anything like Der Fuhrer or even Mathias...." she cut herself off, the names piercing into the very core of her being, stabbing her heart like a cold steel blade.

"Oh goodness....I miss them...." she let out suddenly, the tears emerging from seemingly nowhere and taking over. Her sobs became loud and overpowering. Nothing within her could control this emotional outburst.

Looking to Erzsebet with fresh tears streaking down her face, she bit her lip, trying to stiffle what she could. "I'd do anything for them back....." she barely whispered, the sound vaguely audible over the sobs.

"We have reached The Dictatorship," whispered words awake the sleeping Genocide. Scared and beginning to shake, she stared out at the crisp frozen blackness about her. She did not need to step outside their temperature controlled craft to know that it was below freezing out there in that wasteland of a nation.

Her mind raced with ideas as she stared out into the pitch black nothingness. Not a light shone at all in the distance. It was impossible to tell sky from sea from land. Nothing but silent cold darkness.

Not even the hum of their engines managed to penetrate the thick layer of the deathly silence that permeated over The Dictatorship. Staring at her from the darkness appeared a girl of five, with hair as black as a raven, and eyes so dark that they blended together as black pools....the eyes of her father. Her breath came out in little puffs, the cabin temperature beginning to drop.

"What is happening?" she asked suddenly, her eyes flashing with a hint of fear.

Looking to each other in confusion and fear, her Guard began to panic. They had not anticipated that the cold nights of The Dictatorship were this intense that they could penetrate even their most protected birds.

"Shit," the co-pilot cursed as he stepped out of the back of the plane, carrying with him thick white coats. "Put these on, we're going to go down hard. Protect the girl...." he barely finished when a loud explosion tore through the left side of their plane.

"FUCK!" yelled the Guards as they dove to protect Genocide at all costs.

Letting out a cry, Genocide grabbed her ears, a sudden overwhelming fear over taking her. It was then her life should have flashed before her eyes; the moment of sudden realization that one is going to die. Instead, all her mind saw was the man behind the blood painted doors....those glass doors covered in the blood he spilled from his own hand. The man who shot his partner right in front of her eyes. This man whose rage and anger burned in every facet of his being.

"NO!" she cried out....knowing that all she wanted was to know more of this man.

Moments passed, a seeming hour or so. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the world beyond....those white hallowed halls, those golden gates, the ever telling bright light. She found on the other hand, a man embracing her tight against his chest. All she could hear was the soothing deep breaths coming from his chest, the protective arms secured around her like the restraints of a psychotic man. She tried to look up into the man's face, but when she lifted her head, the sight of a fire raging alongside the plane caught her attention more.

Blurred yells began to become distinguished in her head. "We're going down. We lost a turbine.... Yes, ice.... It froze the engine... I DON'T KNOW! We're going down....apparently there are ships docked outside the nation, we'll hit one, land sloppily, but we'll make it.... Is she safe?.... Yes damn it! Just fly this damn thing or we'll all be dead!"

Finally managing to look up, she saw the face of one of her Guards. He was a silent man, never talking to any of the others but always loyal nonetheless. He did not look at her; instead, his head hung down, eyes closed, resting against the unaffected right side of the plane. His breathing now seemed different; shallower, more labored. He would have appeared to be breathing if it wasn't for the stream of red she noticed running down the wall of the cabin.

"Mister?" she asked, looking to the man who had protected her. When he failed to respond, fear gripped her....a fear that one would get when they find themself lost in a crowd of people, their parents no where in sight, and a man coming quick at them. "Mister?" she asked, the fear now evident in her voice.

He groaned a bit before opening his eyes. "You're alive...." he managed weakily, his voice strained and weak.

"Yes, you saved me."

"I promised your father's memory I wouldn't let anything happen to you," he attempted with a half smile followed by a weak cough and blood.

"Mister....don't die," Genocide begged, staring into his barely opened eyes.

"Shhhh child....just rest....." he finished, pulling her closer and closing his eyes again, letting his body sag further against the cabin wall.

Tears welling in her eyes, Genocide held on tightly to the only love she could recall. This act of his....was that love? What was it? Why did he put his own life at risk to save her's?

Feeling the plane buck and kick from beneath them, Genocide held on tightly in fear. This man, whomever he was, was her only solace at that moment. She feared the worse and when the plane plummetted rapidly toward the ground, she tightened her grip and let the tears spill. She'd never know who that mysterious man with that internal rage was. The scraping of metal against metal, the furious rumbling and screeching, the screaming, the yelling, those strong arms holding her even tighter against that man's chest.....and the pain that surfaced from the back of her head and ended it all.

The vampiress raised an eyebrow at the question, as it was so incredibly ironic to ask such. Fortunately, Hunny Dew was aware of this, in fact, had intended it.

"It could be worse," Erzsebet said, concisely, the tone of her voice suggesting that it could also be a lot better. Before she could finish, though, the other woman was already rambling on about being afraid to fail. It was a feeling the moroii knew well, so she could sympathize. Erzsebet was now resigned to the fact that she had utterly failed, her fears hadn't come true, but even more undesireable things had. She needed to contact her government and tell them what had happened, as if they'd believe it. If they found that they'd sent had done no actual fighting, simply patrolling around and getting bombed once, Erzsebet thought she might be sacked, as the administration would be furious. Of course, she felt she deserved to be fired, as she had never felt so worthless. By now she was jaded enough to wonder if it was wisdom to enter this war in the first place.

As Hunny Dew began to cry, the moroii wondered if she should go up to her and hug her and comfort her. On the one hand, it seemed like the right thing to do, but on the other, it would perhaps be taken the wrong way, one never knew with these foreigners. Some might not find a tattooed, pierced vampiress to be the most comforting of figures. Just then, she became aware of the fact that her feet were bleeding. The culrprit was obvious, the broken glass all over. Some had apparently cut her. Erzsebet decided that she would try to comfort the other woman, and so got up and gave her a hug. Perhaps it would be misinterpreted, hopefully not. "Would you like me to make anything for you? The hot chocolate makes me feel a little bit better myself."

Charmaine awoke on the cold ground of a cell. She had pushed herself too hard, but could not remember what had happened. “Mathias…” that name was the first name from her cold paling lips. Her white hair fell over her light amber eyes, which were normally crimson, though due to the lack of blood, they had been stripped of the color. She was a beautiful albino, it would seem, alone, with nothing but a dim light above head. She couldn’t remember what had happened. She remembered getting her syringes and giving Mathias her blood, a good deal of her blood. Had it been enough to turn him? Had she given all she had to give and had been barely left alive? Was he dead? Was she to die? She looked up and noticed the solar panels. They could kill her if they wanted to. She was not as strong as Aiden. She could feel that somewhere he was coming for her, not knowing when or how. It was him that she feared, but what she feared even more at the moment was loosing Mathias forever.

Mathias… she tried to reach him mentally, but she received no reply. She gripped the bars and slid down, her nails grinding against the metal. She was like a caged animal. Where had her caution gone? She was one of the best fighters in her nation, and in all of the time that she had trained, how could she have blacked out? Albeit loss of blood could do it, but her will power would have sustained her. She couldn’t remember, and she had a sinking feeling in her heart. If Mathias was dead was there enough of him to bring back? If she could get to him, it was such a long shot that she doubted herself. She was scared. She was scared that she had lost the one thing she had ever loved.

What made it worse: There were no guards around. It was as if she had been abandoned.

Abandoned...

A man long since forgotten sits in red queens main computer core room. he walks to a terminal inserts a thumbdrive a program automatically runs. Red Queen appears looks at him flickers smiles and disappears....

A cell phone rings...man answers few words are exchanged and he screams... STOP CALLING ME THAT MY NAME IS INFERNO! Phone line goes dead. Inferno kicks the terminal takes his thumbdrive laughs and leaves.

OOC: Welcome back Inferno. Just OOCing you to tell you that you were last left in the basement of the mansion at Stadt.

ooc: TG Der Fuhrer Dyszel =)

Grabbing ahold of her still drunken outburst, Hunny*Dew succumbed to a hot cup of cocoa, allowing the hot liquid to sober her up quickly. "Thank you," she managed after finishing half the cup and realizing that she had not thanked Erzsebet earlier.

"I really cannot say where that came from. I assure you that I am competent enough to run this region. If I had not been, Der Fuhrer would never have assigned me to the position I hold," her singsong voice chirped, a smile spreading across her face once again.

She knew that now was not the time to appear weak. When an entire region depending on her and looked to her for the answers....it was not the time to appear anything less then sure of herself and she realized that which she sealed with a smile.

ooc: TG Der Fuhrer Dyszel =)

OOC:
Replied! :D

Having spent nearly two hours conscious within the cell, calling out blindly for Mathias and getting no reply. Not from anyone. It was if she were the only person there. She leaned her head against the wall, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Remember when I told you I could take you back to my nation. We could be safe there. We might be able to heal you…we could be happy. I was the princess of the empire, and you never knew, and they were never looking for me because they did not know where I had gone. Oh Mathias…I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.” She slumped down against the wall, and sang softly, in a language of the northern empire. It was a sadly beautiful song, and she knew of no one who would ever hear it. She would die of starvation; of lack of blood; of a broken heart.

Memories of a dance, of an angelic voice, of those lavender eyes filled his head. "Mathias......" she called, the name stirring a wave of emotions inside him.

He gasped for breath, opening his eyes. It was all a dream, but still, deep within him, it felt as if he had left her behind. She was dead, wasn't she? They had told her that she was killed for not complying with their rules.

Taking in a sharp breath, Mathias closed his eyes again, fishing back for those memories that were now gone from his memory....replaced now by a nagging persistent pain surging from his heart into his left arm and up his neck. He felt weak and tired, exhausted again.

The man aside him was no longer moving; Dante was laid on the ground, propped up with pillows to keep him still. He still breathed, but other then the weak rising and falling of his chest, no other movement issued from him.

Still, the feeling arouse from Mathias's gut again....Charmaine.....

Signaling to Deihl, he motioned for the veterned Elite to come over. Writing with shaking hand and pained wrist, Mathias managed to scrawl a few words, Find her. In the complex.

Taking a moment to dicepher the handwriting, Diehl looked to Mathias....a look of understanding being reached between them at that moment. Departing from Mathias, he made a coded message sent back to Mahanoy, instructing the infamous Elites to do what they do best and bring this young woman back. Whether she was dead or alive, he realized the importance she must have had in Mathias's life....and with his condition, it was best to honor the wishes of a dying man.

Dreaming…

The black mist sifted through doorways and searched for her. It wasn’t long before Aiden found the cell, watching Charmaine a she slept against the wall, his form solidified. It took a lot out of him to make the transformation, but he had finally attained his goal. His lips curved into a grin as he put his hand over the locking mechanism of the cell. “Sarah…” he whispered breathlessly, and Charmaine awoke with a start, jumped up and pressed her back against the wall. The one thing she was afraid of was knocking at her door. There was one problem solved; she could get out of the cell, and there was another added; Aiden. Personally, she liked the locked door better. She looked at his left shoulder, arm now gone from where she had sliced it off. She screamed, but knew there was no one to answer the scream. They didn’t care so long as she was behind bars. She had drawn attention to herself before, no doubt they would remember.

The lock snapped, and Aiden rushed forward with a burst of speed, pushing the girl against the wall. His white hair fell over his eyes. “You can never get away from me Sarah…” he whispered. Terror gripped at her throat, and spun her around. His fangs pierced her neck and she let out a cry of pain as tears streamed down her face. She broke away, gathering what energy she could, and felt the flesh rip from her neck.

“I am the only one left in line for the throne, she whispered. You are not her direct descendent, if you kill me you have destroyed her line!” she said, in a desperate attempt to defer him. She knew it was no use, and she was prolonging the torture. It would go on for hours, she knew. Aiden was a man that was never satisfied, even when he got what he wanted. She felt the whispers run over her mind. Somewhere, she felt a kindred spirit; she felt her mother…alive. Aiden must have sensed it too, for he eased up, and she took her chance, and shoved him against the bars, jumping on top of him and tearing as his throat to consume the liquid that she was so deprived of.

Her lavender eyes filled with crimson red bloodlust, as Aiden gradually fell to the floor. Color was brought back into her face, and her white hair fell over one eye. It was quite a contrast in color from her blood stained lips to her paled skin. She whipped the blood from her chin with the back of her hand and stood up.

As she woke up with a start, her eyes trailed on the floor to the seeping blood which had left only a few droplets. It was rumored possible, when a master invades his fledglings mind, that all that takes place there becomes physical, and it is upon the masters decision on when to do so. Somewhere in the complex, Aiden’s body was upon the ground, seeping blood, killed of an unknown force; and Charmaine was left with a satiated look in her cool eyes, wanting. She placed her hand upon the bars. The lock was not broken. It had only affected the person, not the surroundings.

She continued her song, singing with a beautiful voice, though no one would hear her.

Receiving word that a woman of importance had been left behind in Dante's complex, a group of three Elites gathered. They were informed only of the physical attributes of this woman and where to possibly find her. Armed with only that knowledge, the three trekked back into the domain of the enemy.....

It took five hours before they found the only occupied cell in the facility. She was resting against a wall, a look madness, of intense want, having consummed her.

"Ms, we were ordered by a General Diehl to bring you with us to The Reich."

Without waiting for a response, one of the Elites removed a key and inserted it into the lock. He twisted it twice, the door clicking and swinging open.

"Follow us Ms. We will get you out of here," was all that was said before the Elites turned quickly and like foxes, manuevered their way out of Dante's complex, stopping just before a small river out the outskirts of the complex

The canoe sat there, stationary and quiet, in the darkness of the night, the cool air brushing their skin. "We will take this to our base and from there we'll arrange for your flight back to The Reich. Glad to see you are alive....we had word to look for a body so we assumed you were dead."

Seeing the pale skin of the woman, they covered her in a blanket, afraid that the coolness of the night and the dampness of the river would facilititate a grounds for getting this poor woman sick.

“I am dead,” she said simply with an emotionless face. She stepped into the canoe after them, wishing there was someway she could go faster, suspended on silver wings. She held her hand upon her neck where she had felt Aiden bite her. There were faint traces. She couldn’t help but to think of her promise to Mathias, and in her heart, she could not stand to admit that he was dead. Not until she saw proof would she believe it. Charmaine’s voice was one of the most captivating things about her. Even when she said something monotonous it would leave one hanging of the edge of her last word, leaning in, expecting, wanting more. “I never got to say goodbye…” she whispered softly as they continued, but didn’t expect a response, as it was a hushed comment.
Though a thousand words, have never been spoken. They'll fly to you crossing over the time and distance holding you, suspended on silver wings. A thousand words, one thousand embraces, will cradle you making all of the pain you feel far away. They’ll hold you forever. The dream isn't over yet though I often say I can't forget. I still relive that day because a thousand words call out through the ages. They'll fly to you even though we can't see you, I know they’re reaching you. One thousand words have never been spoken, they’ll fly to you, they’ll carry you home and back into my arms, suspended on silver wings.

The melody was soft and meaningful, to her, and she wasn’t sure if she sang it aloud or mentally anymore. She didn’t care. She folded her arms across her chest, half hugging herself, as there was no one else to.

The night droned on, hidden behind the soft lapping of waves. They were approaching their humble abode hidden deep within Mahanoy and the comfort and security it offered appealed to them all. Here, on this river, they were sitting ducks if caught by Genocide's army and ever since they broke Dante free, the full arms had been across the nation.

Reaching the base by early afternoon the next day, they all scrambled out their cramped legs and stretched on the side of shore. Few words had been spoke, but a serene comfort seemed to hang over them. The woman with them had barely even looked their way, seemingly lost in a world of her own.

Walking a mile into the woods, they found themselves at an older home, a log structure placed conveniently in the middle of these woods, so far away from the trouble of everything else.....exactly what was desired by any former Elite of Dante's military.

"Welcome to our quiet little base Ms. We're going to arrange to fly you The Reich, but getting ahold of one of these special planes is going to take a while. Make yourself at home in the mean time. We'll inform General Diehl that we have found you and plan on escorting you to their position. Oh, by the way Ms, do you have a name?"

“Charmaine,” she replied, walking into the building. “Charmaine Shentavo.” There was a deep sadness in her voice but sharpness in her eyes. She sat in one of the chairs and simply stared. Everyone she cared about was gone. She felt a burning on her back, and flinched in pain, not being able to tell what it is, she didn’t really care. The pain distracted her. Underneath the thin fabric of her bloodstained shirt, the ink trailed along her shoulder blades. “Are there any spare clothes here?” She questioned. “I’ve been locked up for god knows how long…” She looked at the blood stains on her shirt and pants. Both were blood spilt by her own hands, but she did not say that.

"Ms Shentavo, I'll see what I can get for you. Also, there is a bath on the second floor if you wanted to relax awhile. Like I said, make yourself at home Oh and we have a room avialable for you to sleep in. I'm not sure it's been cleaned yet. Iif you'd like, I can do that now. We had a few visitors here and they left quite the mess....bloodied up the place. You all looked the same....like you've been through hell. I don't know what happened there, but it sounds like you all had your far share of abuse," the Elite spoke to her, waiting for her response before he continued.

"This blood is not mine," Charmaine said with a cold look in her eyes, and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her bloodied shirt on the way there and throwing it on the floor and closing the door behind her. She slid off her pants which were sticking to her skin as well as her boots. She was thankful there was no window in the room, and turned on the water, not waiting for it to fill up before jumping in and rubbing at the dried blood and soaking her tainted hair in the luke warm water. Her hair returned to the purest of white, and her skin was like a soft porcelin.

After thirty minutes she rose and wrapped a towel around her body, throwing her old clothes away save for the boots which she cleaned. She walked out in a towel with her boots in one hand. She hoped they found clothes, because there was no way in hell she would put those bloodied rags back on. Her back seared again, and though she could not see it, the pattern of tribal wings formed across her back; a tattoo with all the pain but no needle. It was never her doing, always something going on someplace else in another time which causes it. She failed to notice.

A ghost of a man sat deep in thought, measuring and weighing options, feelings, desires and dreams all against the possibility of change. There was good out there, was it for him? The path of good had killed the man known simply as Richard, in every sense of the word. Death had become his new way of life... how does a dead man live day to day? Would he become the walking dead? A zombie, forever under the thumb of an evil tyrant? No, Damon was not a tyrant.. misunderstood maybe.. now, HE was death.. Richard had hope, but Damon would never be a 'normal' man.

So it was, Richard watching the slowly pulsating... rising and falling chest of Damon.. but not really seeing it. His vision was blurred with the thought of what lay ahead in his future as an..... "as a gatherer of information."

There, he thought, that doesn't sound so bad.

With that, his mind settled on a single face.. one of intensity, emotional pain, and no small measure of beauty. I do this for you... and he couldn't remember her name, or why he did anything anymore.. but that face stuck.. and he pledged himself to the saint lesser men called Damon, to the Bringer of Death.
.
Some men deserve to die, perhaps Richard was one of those men... torn in every direction until he had little left to give but his life. As he looked up again, that face re-appeared.

"Go away... you illusions have haunted me enough as is."

And he looked back down with his dead eyes. For one brief instant, everything was clear... just a moment ago, he had finally figured it all out and felt oddly serene.

Seeing that face for a second time suddenly ignited a spark in him. After what had felt like a lifetime, his heart beat again.. the noise pounding in his ears like the drum of an angel, reverberating through him. That face.

His head snapped back up, life once again filling those dead eyes of his, and he saw the woman for who she really was... not an illusion, but a dream. Briefly, he saw her being shot, the sound of the gunpowder charge louder than that of his heart beating. Richard, in utter confusion, had forgotten to breathe, and he sucked in a gasping breath filled with all the pain he had lived through... and that which he had wrought. Daring a look into her eyes, he was horribly ashamed of himself. C9, that was the name those eyes belonged to, a name he had selectively forgotten like so many memories of youth.

Vocal chords, silent.. feet, stuck to the ground... eyes, rooted into hers... he couldn't move except to breathe and to hear his heart beating once again.

---

What a headache.

Travis awoke on the bed in what appeared to be a medical facility, head pounding as if he had been kicked there repeatedly while he slept. Stomach heaving, the black haired man of light build stood up wobbily in complete confusion.

Where is everyone? He thought while beginning to painfully inch away from the memories of wretched excess in any random direction, looking for signs of life.

---

The man everyone called Artemis sat in the medical facility of the large, so-called mansion belonging to a person he had never met, in a nation he had spent less time in than he had vacationed this year, which was less than he deserved, whining to himself about it all.

Im way out of my comfort zone if im actually whining, damn it, he thought to himself, still within reaching distance of a person he had only talked to for the briefest of moments, moments he spent in terror.

At least Alex was still alive, but why did he care? Artemis had seen people die before, he watched friends kick out the chair, he had cried over lost love, so why did this man matter?

It was another relatively quiet night on the small carrier CLF Alfheim, the ship's complement of fighters was out on patrol elsewhere, probably over the nearby port of Stadt. Others were in the hanger, being readied for their own patrol. The Alfheim, like other small carriers assigned escort duty, carried only fighters and anti-submarine aircraft.

Captain Rowan Maydat watched as her crew went about their business. Off to the starboard side, ahead of them, was the flagship, the mighty Ithtyr. It had a dark, menacing presence, painted all black, such that no light seemed to escape. The flagship was massive, dwarfing the diminutive Alfheim, though sleek and somehow graceful. Well suited to its commander Rowan thought, picturing the unpredictable vampiress who led the First Cruiser Squadron. It wasn't that she didn't like Erzsebet (who preferred first name basis among the other ship commanders when not in front of the rest of the crew), in fact, she got on quite well with the moroii. Rowan, however, never knew when the admiral's sanity was going to hold up or fail, as some of her war games maneuvers had been nearly suicidal.

She didn't resent that her commander was younger than her of course. That would be petty. Though her fiery red hair was starting to turn grey at 36, Rowan was quite content at the position of captain. The daughter of immigrants who had given her a last name in the Callisdrunian matrilineal tradition (though obviously not entirely Callisdrunian), she looked different from most of her comrades with her red hair and green eyes. She returned her gaze to her own ship, the small Alfheim, and then noticed a commotion. Members of the crew were pointing astern.

Rowan rushed outside to see what was going on and saw an aircraft appraching, in the distance, at an angle that looked as if it was trying to land. She realized that this must have been the blip seen on the radar earlier.

Members of the crew were already jumping to get out of the way, and suddenly, everyone was yelling in dismay. It was then that Rowan realized with horror that the approaching aircraft had failed to extend its landing gear.

Predictably, there was an ear stabbing shriek as the plane's hull slid across the deck of the Alfheim, after the initial crunch of the soft aluminum meeting the hardened deck harmor.

After shattering one wing on the superstructure, the aircraft skidded to a halt teetering on the edge of the bow. The crew was quick to respond, rushing forward to put out fires and securing and then hauling the mutilated aircraft back with metal cables.

A squad of the ship's complement of Berserkers then made their way cautiously towards the stricken plane. It was unmarked, which could make it an enemy aircraft, or just an unfortunate civilian. They wore their war paint of course. If they were unnerving, and it turned out to be nothing more than civilians with bad luck, apologies could be made later. The door gave them some trouble, so its bolts were shot off and it was then torn from its hinges.

Inside, they found quite a bit of blood. Some of the moroii berserkers licked their lips jokingly, until their fellows nudged them to knock it off. It seemed that many of the plane's passengers were dead. Alive they found the pilot, some little girl, and two guards, one of which was badly injured and didn't look like he would make it.

Though of course their own language would not be understood, the lead Berserker gave orders to those who were conscious in the aircraft anyway. Because of the presence of the guards, it was assumed that this was no civilian plane, and that left the distinct possibility that it belonged to the enemy. After this predictable failure to communicate, he tried English, while the other men and women in the squad looked on behind him, their AK-103's raised protectively. "You have crash landed aboard the Callisdruning escort aircraft carrier Alfheim," the squad leader said, his words heavily accented, though understandable. "You will come with us now, our medical personel will see to those who are wounded."

With Bersekers both ahead and behind them, the conscious survivors of the crash landing were led down into the labyrinth that was the interior of the ship. Along the way, they encountered sailors diligantly working at various shipboard tasks that needed doing. They passed through the main section of the medical bay into a section that was clearly more... secure... being locked down and guarded by more Berserkers.

"You are to be detained aboard the Alfheim until we figure out who you are and what to do with you. You will be safe, but you must obey orders given to you by the ship's officers. I'm sure the captain will want to see you before long."

With that, the Berserker Squad left them. The Berserker guards there remained silent and stationary while the nurses and doctors, in their red uniforms, checked them.

Within less than a minute, the unconscious little girl and the dying guard were brought down. Those with only minor injuries were bandaged up and sent to rooms that were basically cells, being as how they were basically now POW's until futher information could be gleaned about their identities. The guard died later during the same night, though the doctors fought to save him.

The wreckage of the plane was moved to the hanger deck, and partially disassembled, in case there was need to inspect it later. It was kept in a corner and out of the way while the fighters that had been patrolling returned. During the night, the heavily injured guard died, despite efforts to save him, never regaining consciousness.

A message was sent to the flagship, from which a message was sent to the admiral's com unit, since she didn't seem to be answering it. Food was brought to the survivors in their rooms, and it was plentiful and quite good, as Callisdrunians didn't believe it was right to deliberately malnourish people.

The next morning, the nurse informed the survivors that the captain wished to speak with them in an hour's time.

The sun penetrated the cold darkness permeating over The Dictatorship, catching just a glimmer of the bright early morning sunlight, Dante's plane began it's descent. Ships lined the coast, as if preparing for a massive assualt on Stadt des Meeres.....Mathias stared blankly at this finding. Nothing registered inside his mind except for an emptiness. For a long time he longed for a normal family life; to be a father with family and live away from the chaos of a war he served his life and soul in.

Taking a deep breath, Mathias felt his collapsed aveoli snap open. His lungs were failing, his heart was failing, his joints were weakened, and now his brain was feeling like the consistency of jello.

Staring over the ruin and devastation, destroyed buildings that once caught the sunlight so well and made this city look like a gleaming lost paradise were now laying in a pitiful heap of chared remains. Nothing remained the same.....except that dark massive mansion once standing atop a hill in the distance; seeming to always protectively watch over Stadt like a father. And even that seemed different now, the mansion seemed defeated, unable to protect its children. It seemed to stand on the hill in the distance, feeling guilt, and remembering its failure as a protector.

The plane came closer to this mansion, the sound of the engines silent....just as Dante had planned. No one would know of their approach, and if Mathias was not as tired as he was, he would have marveled in the excellence Dante acheived through his machinery. Landing, the plane came to a clean stop aside of another plane stationed outside the mansion. No one seemed to stir upon their arrival; no one even seemed to be alive in this land of devastation.

Assisted from his seat, Mathias was supported out of the plane, guided with the help of two men. Behind him, the unconscious Dante was carried from the plane....their despondent situation.

Standing before his home, Mathias was struck by memories of a woman who had come into his live and allowed him to love. Burying those feelings, Mathias hardened his heart further. Right now, all he wanted was to die in peace. What was there for him to live for anymore?

Pushing aside all memories of a life he once had, of dreams he once had, Mathias held by his guides before the massive doors that compromised the main enterence of this mansion. He stood for a moment, taking it all in, standing before the structure he designed himself....his home. To him, it was no more then a building anymore....everything lost meaning in his life.

Answering the question to the debate of whether or not they should knock, the guard kicked the door several times loudly, holding onto Mathias to prevent him from falling. Within the mansion, the sound echoed loudly, beckoning all within to come....to answer....

Silently outside they stood, waiting for permission to enter, if that was ever to come.

The vampiress gave Hunny Dew a warm smile while saying "you're welcome." By the look in her eyes, the other woman could see that Erzsebet had noticed her outburst, but would never mention her moment of weakness.

"We all question our abilities sometimes, I think some with more reason than others," she said to the other, quietly, with a sigh that indicated that she was thinking more about her own inadequacies than whatever Hunny Dew's might be. She was still struggling with the knowledge of what she had done to her own compatriots, it sickened her so. It was perfectly acceptable for a moroii to rip out the throats of enemies in battle and feed on them, but never on their own comrades.

However vulnerable Hunny*Dew had made herself, Erzsebet looked much more so, still haggard and worn from the still recent experience of her interrogation.

There came a noise from somewhere. "What was that?" she asked. It had sounded like someone bashing something.

Leaving a clean pair of men's pants and a teeshirt in the freshly cleaned room, they left Charmaine to her own as they prepared for their flight out of Mahanoy. Leaving her by herself in room previously occupied by Mathias, the guards busied themselves in assuring a smooth fluent operation.

With Genocide's military scoping the ground and skies, leaving Mahanoy without being caught had become extremely difficult. Planning to use one of Dante's customed Birds, the Elites had procured the plane and prepared it for its long journey to The Dictatorship.

In the meantime, however, after delivering a hot cooked meal to Charmaine's room, one of the youngest of the newly trained Elites was issued to guard this young woman and protect her in the event of an invasion. Sitting behind a current newspaper, he propped his feet up, waiting for the call to bring Charmaine over.

Charmaine passed up the meal. “I’m sorry, I don’t eat food. Please, eat yourself. It will do you more good that it would me.” She sighed softly, and changed into the pair of pants and shirt. The pants were way too long, and she overcompensated by cutting them off into shorts and tying the bottom of the shirt into a bow to tighten it a bit. Her damp white hair clung to her skin as she sat down in one of the chairs. She sat there for a long while. “I can smell his blood in this room…” It then occurred to her that she had never asked if they knew of Mathias. She had thought him to be dead. Did he die here? She wasn’t sure if she should ask the question, because she wasn’t sure if she would receive an answer she wanted. “Mathias…what happened to him? Do you know?” She questioned, her fangs resting on her bottom lip and her cool lavender eyes looking straight through the man, even while she tried not to be imposing.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about. I don't know of a Mathias. This is my first assignment in Mahanoy," the Elite responded.

Receiving the word that they were ready, he stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Well Ms, ready to go? Our plane is ready."

Waiting for Charmaine to gather anything she may have wanted to take with her, the Elite stood outside, the fading afternoon sun warming him. Seeing Charmaine ready, he led the way through twisting winding paths in the woods until he came to an large opening with a solid sleek black plane sitting at the far end.

"We're taking a Blackbird; one of Dante's planes that has been specifically modified and designed for flights in The Reich. Ready to go?"

Without really waiting for a response, the Elite led her to the plane and hopped in, waiting for her to follow. He didn't want to stay more then he had to in this nation....it was not a place he was welcomed as a loyal supporter of Dante's former Empire.

Charmaine grabbed the blanket from the bed instinctively. For some reason, it reminded her of him, and by hell she was taking it with her. She sighed softly, she hated flying. She followed the elite. It was too much to get her hopes up to see him alive. Part of her had already accepted the fact that he was dead, the other half couldn’t bare to even think about it. She followed him and got into the plane, the blanket on top of her, providing some comfort. The glances from a few didn’t bother her. It was her damn blanket now.

“Let’s go,” she whispered breathlessly, and the plane lifted into the air. She clutched the blanket. She hated flying.

Awoken in the midst of a very confused state, Genocide blinked several times, searching this unfamiliar place she found herself in. "Guard?" she whispered, unsure of where she was or where her Guard had gotten to. Unaccustomed to being alone, she called out a little louder this time.

When no one had responded, her fears had been realized, she was alone. No one was there; no one there to watch over her and no one there to protect her. Somehow, the freedom she had always wanted now frightened her. Looking around the strange small room, she felt her stomach twist and turn with each new unfamiliar object. The bed, the walls, the floor, the smell, the lighting....everything was so different and she didn't even have her little teddy bear there to comfort her.

So she cried.

She cried to herself....scared, alone, and without someone there to comfort her. She was not prepared for this at all. Everything about this place and her situation frightened her.

"Hello?" she called out, loudly, for anyone within the area to hear. She wanted to know where she was, where her Guard was, and what had happened.

Her head hurt really bad from the crash, she had numerous lacerations and bruises all over her body. Her arm felt as if it were broken. And all she could remember was those strong arms holding her closely. She wanted that back; wanted the be comforted like that again.

"Richard?" C9 asked in disbelief. She wanted to move, but frozen in a state of disbelief like Richard, she just stared, unflinching and unmoving.

"You were supposed to be dead," she quietly spoke, her voice sounding of months of abuse....tortured and tired.

When Richard failed to respond, she looked at the man he sat aside. She recognized that face all too well and a breath-taking chill ran up spine. All those horror stories were true....all that pain and agony of those mysterious urban legends real.

"That's him, isn't it?" she asked with a hint of fear in her voice. Her body trembled with the memories of darkness and pain. The abuse she face....the abuse that now bonded her and the woman she previously wanted to destroy.

In confusion, Richard looked at the man lying next to him as if seeing him for the first time. The shock and horror of seeing that man next to him prompted a gasp to emit startlingly from his mouth.

The man's chest was still rising and falling slowly... for a brief moment, Richard considered how fractured he must have been to find in C9 not only the inspiration to worship this man fully, but to now, mere moments later, fear him completely. The spell was broken, but it would be long yet before Richard realized the implications of the things he did while underneath it.

He looked back at C9 and shook his head silently, fearing to speak. Eyes wide, he did so anyways, quietly and in a solemn tone, "This is the man I was becoming... my shame embodied in another. What do we do with him?"

Though the girl was alone for all she knew, she was actually being monitored. She was in one of the secure portion of the medical bay's rooms, which from the inside looked like a very small hospital room (it was hardly exceptional in this case, as most rooms aboard ship were small, space was at a premium). It was unfurnished, having cold metal walls like everywhere else in the ship. While Callisdrunian warships had all the necessities, their conditions were a bit spartan, and it was up to the occupants to personalize the spaces in it if they wished. As this was a seldom used combination between a hospital room and a prison cell, no efforts had been wasted on it.

A few minutes after the girl woke, a nurse came and shut the door behind her. Like all the medical staff, she wore red. She greeted the girl first in Callisdrunian before switching to English. "Hello there," she said casually. She quickly checked the bandages that had been applied in the previous night to the child's various wounds, and the cast that had been placed around her broken arm. "You got quite a bump when the plane you were in crashed last night," the nurse said as she inspected the girl's bruised head. Appropriate treatment and precautions had been taken in this area. "What's your name, girl?" she asked, her voice carrying the tell-tale Callisdrunian accent.

Night time fell quickly, the flight not even half way there. The flight would take hours and it would be midday by the time they would arrive in Stadt des Meeres.

Fiddling with the top button on his uniform, the young Elite undid it to alleviate the sensation of choking. Nervous as he was sitting next to a woman, he took a deep breath and looked to Charmaine, finally speaking, "You don't look too well, what's up?"

"I just really don't like flying," she said as she gripped the blanket to her, as would a small child. The night did comfort her, however. She sighed, revealing her fangs. She had fed, mentally. It was not something that she was used to. Was she getting stronger? Perhaps an elder soon, perhaps it was just do to the emotional stress. She could not be sure. Her skin was paler than normal, as if it were possible. She remembered those red eyes staring back at her; Aiden, always watching her. She flinched, and pulled the blanket more tightly around her; as if it were to help the memories. She could feel her mother’s presence, even stronger than before, and the tattoo on her back burned. She winced in pain, and cursed silently as she felt the burning sensation tingle along her side. As she opened her eyes, they were blood red.

"Um....," the guy murmured, the nervousness escalating at the sight of this unusual woman sitting next to him. He had no idea who she was and why she was so important to Deihl, but he was beginning to think she was an experiment gone horribly wrong.

Feeling perspiration begin to collect on his forhead, he swallowed hard, feeling suddenly uncomfortable aside this woman. "Uh......who are you again?"

"Charmaine Shentavo," she replied. "Ravelyn's daughter from the Three United Empires." She realized that it probably meant nothing to him, unless he had heard of the Empires before. They were quite big, but nothing could suprise her these days. She huddled in her blanket; her blood red eyes now staring at the window towards the stars.

"I was here...I stayed for Mathias."

Staring at her, seeing her huddled beneath the blanket, he reached down and grabbed a bottle of water. "This Mathias....who is he? You speak of him as if he was important to you. Do you mean Dante? He's the only man around here of any importance," the young Elite inquired, curious as to who this Mathias was that she made reference to again.

Taking a sip of water, he held out the bottle to her, offering her a drink while he waited for her answer.

“I don’t drink water,” she declined again, and looked downward. “Dante?” she laughed. “Dante…was a weak child in my arms.” She sighed softly, and then noted his expression. “Mathias is someone who is dear to me. Dante hurt him very badly, destroyed his ability to speak, so I gave him what he deserved. If it wasn’t for Mathias, I would have killed Dante. But Mathias saved that man’s life. I do not like the ones who hurt those I love, and neither would you if you were in my position.” She remembered the taste of his blood, how weak he felt in her arms. She realized that she was talking to Dante’s Elites, but really, it didn’t matter. She would be no harm to Dante, though he will probably remember her. “As I was draining him dry, he called me Autumn. While the name means nothing to me, it was still a beautiful name. I still remember…” She sighed softly and looked at the Elite’s expression, then laughed. "Don't worry...I won't bite," she said, putting a bit of snap into her word and curling up with her blanket.

Taking aback, the young Elite withdrew the bottle of water and stared at her with a raised eyebrow. Assuming this woman was on something, the man just shrugged and took another sip of water. He was accustomed to people on various types of drugs, but whatever she was on, he was beginning to think of asking for some.

Feeling rather warm and uncomfortable, wondering why this woman was under a blanket in the warmth of the compartment, he rested his head against the window, still staring at her.

"Wish I could have met Dante myself. He is a legend to our people," the Elite responded, unsure of why this woman seemed to speak the converse.

"Was*" she corrected. "He was pretty battered up last time I saw him." She sighed softly, and ran her fangs along her bottom lip in contemplation. "Did you come back just for me? Why the hell would you come back just for me? Dante sure as hell doesn't care about..." She let the words fade from her mouth, and held the blanket closer. Could he be alive? Her eyes returned to their normal lavender color.

"Who sent you to get me?"

"Uh, General Deihl," he responded with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Look Ms Shentavo, with all due respect, we may have known the same Dante, but he didn't earn his reputation through nothing. Sure, he's fallen from where he once was, but the man survived what no other man could and is still very much alive and walking to tell of it. What he built....that is impressive. His Empire is worthy of respect, but some people are trying to dismantle that. Not everyone thinks highly of Dante....I realize that. I'm one of the few who do and I'm also one of the very few still loyal to his cause, but I'd really appreciate that you give my fallen leader some credit. He's the only one who's managed to get past that crazed AI of Der Fuhrer Dyszel's....that takes skill."

Taking another sip, he let his words set in for only a few seconds. "And I bet Dante ordered your return. If you did harm him, I'm sure he hasn't forgotten. He's not an easily forgivable man."

Sitting for a moment, he finished half the bottle of water before narrowing his eyes on Charmaine and looking her over closely. "Wait a minute. You're not one of us. You're something from Der Fuhrer Dyszel's labs, aren't you? Mathias....that's right, he's that scientist that everyone talks about....that's how you know them....that's why Dante wants you back. Interesting....." he spoke with keen interest in the situation, looking at Charmaine differently now, as if she were some sort of first prize science fair project.

Hearing the heavy thudding against the main doors, Der Fuhrer stepped out from the darkness, moving into the light of the upper staircase looking over the foyer. No one had come yet to answer the door and she began to seriously debate if she should go down and let whomever was knocking in.

No one was expected to be in the area; no sounds other then the heavy knocking announced their arrival and this sent an unnerving chill up her spine. It could have been more Freedom Fighters, but she could not see them as being the ones to knock before entering unless this was a ruse.



In the mean time, Hunny*Dew looked up to Erzsebet at the sound of the knocking with a quizzical look. "Is that for you?" she asked politely, curious, but kind.

When Erzsebet shook her head and answered no, she felt a twisting in her stomach. The images of blood and death flurried through her memories. Too many people had recently died and she blamed herself for each one of those deaths. If she had just done her job better and protected these poor people then they would not have had to die.

"Should we answer it?" she asked Erzsebet, unsure of whether or not she should place her life in danger. If she was killed by an unwanted guest, then who would take over The Reich? Was anyone else fit enough to effectively run this dictatorship and region? Was anyone capable of taming The Red Queen?



Hearing the echoing of heavy thudding, which they recognized to be a door knock as far as the medical facility, the overworked medical personnel looked at each other with a look of exasperation overtaking them. "No fucking way," one of them cursed under his breath, as he tended to the unconscious Alex. These past few weeks have been nothing but hell and they were tired of someone new or old being brought in every other minute.

Also hearing the knock, C9 looked to Richard. "It's them," she whispered in fear; the horror of her torture and hell heard clearly in her voice. All that pain and suffering manifesting itself in the whimper of her horrified voice. "Don't let them get me again. Don't let them...." she begged, her pupils dilating in fear despite the brightness of the facility.

When the sudden realization of the possibility of those who knocked finally hit, she began to shaked. "Oh no....they're here for her. Oh please.....you can't let them take her again either. Not that....no....she saved me," C9 pleaded, begging for mercy as if at the hands of a mass murderer about to kill her too.

Genocide stared at the girl in red. Suddenly, a flash of a strong hand hitting her hard brought her back to her reality. She remembered who she was and why she was there, an air of cockiness returning back to her.

"Silly fool. Don't speak to me like that. Show your superiors some respect and get me a glass of milk. And stop talking funny. You sound silly," she ordered.

Deep down though, all she wanted was a hug from this woman....a friendly voice to tell her where she was and what had happened. Most of all, she wanted her teddy bear; wanted to embrace it and hold it close to her. She wanted to cry, but knew that now she had could not do that. It was a test....all a test....and if she failed, he would beat her hard.

The nurse was quite taken aback by the child's rudeness. Having seen that all the bandages were in order, she straightened and addressed juvenile. "It seems that your manners need some work," she said. Her voice up to this point had been quite cheerful and friendly, and while her tone was still kindly, it was as if a layer of frost had formed on it. "I don't know what you're used to or where you come from, but here, we use the word 'please,' when making requests. I expect that someone will be down to bring you some food shortly, the others have already eaten."

She made as if to open the door to leave, but stopped. Though a nurse, she was a soldier, and wasn't going to tolerate any nonsense. "I suppose I should inform you of where you are. You are on board a Callisdrunian warship, which of course means that you're the one who 'talks funny' and 'sounds silly,' to use your own words." The nurse sighed, she did not like having to be mean to a little girl, but she could think of no other way of putting things straight than to let the kid have a head on collision with the harsh reality of her situation.

"I wish I didn't have to point this out, but you have things a bit backwards." She paused, letting the child wonder what she meant. "On board this ship, you are no one's superior. If anything, given present knowledge, you are the lowest ranking person on board." Her stern eyes met the girl's. "Let me explain. You see, by virtue of having been a passenger on what is presumed to have been an enemy aircraft that crash-landed here, you are now a prisoner of war, and not only that, you are a little girl." She finished with "As long as you are in the medical bay, I will be your nurse. You will find me much more pleasant if you are polite." With that last, her voice returned to its original warmness, as if to demonstrate.

"I think we should," Erzsebet said softly, in response to the other woman. "What if it's important?" After all, it was quite cold outside, and the situation for whoever was knocking could be dire. In Callisdrunian culture, both being hospitable and being a gracious guest were quite important. In their religion, it was traditionally believed that Odin would disguise himself as a traveler to check if humans were behaving with honor by asking for lodging on cold nights. In Callisdrun's winters, especially hundreds of years before, prior to industrialization, turning someone away could mean sentencing them to death.

The vampiress was cautious however. "Perhaps I should get my weapons on the way, though, just to be safe. I never bothered looking, but does the front door have a peep hole we could look through to see who it is?"

Charmaine couldn’t help but to laugh at the man. “A science project? God no…” She sighed softly, and her eyes started to shift again. Pathetic humans… the growl stirred through her head, and she caught herself. What had come over her? She shook her head, trying to remove that thought from her brain. “No, I’m not from anywhere around here. As I said, I’m Ravelyn’s child. But no, you are right, I am not one of you.” She smiled, then turned to her man, all of her features now clearly visible. “There is nothing that Dante could do to me that would leave a permanent mark upon my body. I do not fear the man an inch from him. I highly doubt, however, that it was Dante who sent you, considering the last time I left him he was unconscious on the floor, did not know my name, and did not know that I had entered Mahoney.”

“Yes, that’s the Mathias I’m talking about…” she said in a soft whisper, then hugged the blanket tighter. She looked at him. “If you keep staring at me like some first place science fair project, I will gouge your eyes out with a spoon.”

Shrugging, the young Elite adverted eyes to her request, finishing the bottle of water and tossing it back onto the floor. "So you say you know this Mathias? What's he like?" the young Elite inquired, suddenly interested the subject.

It was evident that this Mathias had meant something to this young woman, but what he could mean to someone such as her was not clear. Was she his daughter? Was she his sister? Mathias was a isolationist if he remembered correctly, so how did they know each other?

“He’s brave,” she responded. “He can’t speak because of the wound Dante had inflicted upon him, but I can hear him, because of what I am. Dark hair, dark eyes, well built…” She trailed off with her silent reverie. She remembered that night when she slept next to him. Nothing happened between them; they just fell asleep next to each other. She remembered the warmth of his body engulfing her. “I loved him.”

The young Elite let out a loud laugh. "No way....you loved THAT guy? Dude, he's a freak scientist. He went crazy and tried to kill everyone in his nation by releasing a chemical. I don't know much about that guy, but he's not right. And whatever Dante did to him, I'm sure he had it coming," the Elite smirked, laughing that such a woman could ever fall in love with this man he believed to be absolutely insane.

Her movements were so fast that one could not even see her move until she was an inch from him, her eyes blood red, and she hissed at his words, her fangs fully extended. She snapped her jaw closed. “Guess it takes a monster to love a monster,” She retorted, her beautiful white hair flowing over her shoulders in heated waves. She removed the blanket from her lap. She hardly looked like a monster; she was beautiful. If it had not been for her pale skin, shifting eyes, and fangs, she would look no different than a human. She wasn’t human, and nothing would ever change that fact.

“I suppose then Mathias deserved it just as much as Dante deserved my fangs buried in his neck and loosing half his blood to a vampire. Yes, yes…he had it coming.” She growled. Clearly, the subject of Mathias was not one to be laughed at; at least. Not around her.

"Yo, when the hell are we going to be there? This chick is starting to freak me out," the young Elite called to the pilot. Despite the plane already not providing room for movement, he felt as if the the compartment was closing in on him even further.

"Damn," he cursed, beginning to remove his jacket, accidentially elbowing Charmaine a few times in the process. "Sorry," he murmured, staring at her like she was a psychotic criminal.

"Vampire? You're kidding, right? Let me guess, next you are going to say that you have a pet unicorn?" he cynically laughed, trying to imagine what was the worst that she could do to him in a plane, all the time thinking to himself for a make-up artist, she did a goob job on those fangs.

Charmaine caught his eyes, and from that it was over. She removed the blanket from her form and was on top of him in a heartbeat, straddling his legs. She never left her gaze from his eyes until he was hers, and nudged his head to the side with kisses upon his cheek. She kissed down to where she could feel his pulsating artery drum in rhythm against her tongue. Her eyes filled with bloodlust, and she cleanly pierced his neck with her fangs, and closed her mouth over the wound and began to feed.

Yes…like those story book things… she whispered in his mind, and replayed her memory of doing the same to Dante within his mind. She supported him as she drank. She would have lied to say it wasn’t painful. She wasn’t focusing on making it pleasurable. She withdrew from him when the memory finished, and Mathias’ image had entered her mind. She closed the wound on his neck by running her tongue over the wound, and withdrew back to her seat. She crossed one leg over the other and licked fingers clean of stray blood. It would have looked extremely enticing, had it not been blood on her fingers.

The young Elite groaned and slumped against the window when Charmaine finished. He had no idea who the man was that flashed in his mind, as if watching a movie. He never before met him, but the ruthless act itself was enough for him to make a mental not never to piss of this woman again. He had no idea what had just happened, but the pain he instantly felt, the sharp searing pain was enough of a reminder that it wasn't something he should be happy about.

Feeling weaker, lightheaded, he let out another groan with his head pressed against the side of the plane. He tried to find another bottle of water, having the urge to get something to drink, but found himself slumping face first onto the cramped space. With the atmospheric changes as the plane ascended even higher, his stomach danced alittle, forcing him to fight the urge to want to vomit.

"Damnit," he muttered into the floor, cursing because he found it absolutely impossible to get back in his seat. Remaining face pressed against the floor, he tried to look at that woman, but only saw her feet. "What the hell did you do to me?" he cursed, his speech blurred in the cold metal pressed against his face, "what the hell what that?"

“That was me drinking your blood,” Charmaine said, getting the last bit of sanguine liquid from underneath her nails. She bent over and lifted him up as if he were nothing, and put him back into his seat. “I’m a vampire, but perhaps you still don’t believe me. Should I bite you again? I can take more this time…” She was tired of this boy. He didn’t understand. It at least provided her with some amusement; some way of getting back at Dante by toying with the minds of his elites. He would be able to see the change in her; the flushed cheeks and lips still stained crimson.

“When will this damn plane land?”

Genocide stood up, painful spots aching with the motion. "Do not walk away from me. Show some respect. What is your name? You will be executed for this. People like you are killed for being rude. Get back here!" she yelled after the nurse.

Feeling anger and resentment, not understanding anything this strange woman spoke of, she kicked the door hard, sending a wave of shooting pain up her leg. "I hate you!" she cursed at the wall. "I hate you!" she cursed to herself, feeling biting tears sting her eyes.

She was alone again. All alone in the middle of an unfamiliar room, confused with no one willing to help her. All these people wanted to do was yell and be rude; only one person treated her with such disrespect and he was also the same man to cover the glass doors of his cell with his own blood. She would tell him about this, she told herself; she would tell him and they all would be dead.

Holding his neck, still pyschologically feeling the pain, he looked at Charmaine as if she were a diseased creature, a beast, furiously ripping at his throat. "Do that again....and I'll have this plane sent you to the depths of this ocean, you hear? I don't care if we were ordered to bring you back, I'm not going to be eaten alive by you," he spat angerily.

"Damn bitch, that hurt," he cursed again, thinking of the act that someone would want to drink blood. He could see the bloodlust in her eyes, in her cheeks, and it turned his stomach even more to think that she actually enjoyed drinking his blood.

"Damn it," he cursed again at the thought. This was more screwed up then even some of his most bizarre dreams.

He spat at her and she swiped her nails across his face, leaving four small scratches lining his cheek. “Do not show disrespect to me again, you have several times and each time I have put up with it saving for biting you. I know that you came back to save me, and for that I am grateful for getting me out of that cell, however, even in light of that I do not deserve to be mocked nor my love spat upon.” She was deadly serious, and he could see it in her eyes. Had his words really gotten to her that much? “You understand now how Dante crumbled in my arms, just as you did. We all have our weaknesses…but lying is not one of mine.” She folded her arms across her chest.

God Mathias…where are you? What happened to you. She leant her head back and closed her eyes.

Just before stepping through the door and locking it with a noticeable 'clink' behind her, the nurse said "You should think about your own behavior before calling anyone else rude, little girl." With that she was gone. Twenty minutes later, the girl's food was brought to her, but it was slid in through a tiny doorway in the wall. Not that it was bad food, far from it, it was the same that the officers were eating at this time, and Callisdrunian navy did not tolerate bad cooks. However, the misbehaving child was left to dine alone, and except for the creak and distant sounds of the other parts of the ship.

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Around mid-day.

Captain Rowan Maydat had just recieved the report from the nurse assigned to the little girl who had been scooped from the wreckage of the aircraft. She sighed, apparently the survivor was an impetuous brat. She read over the nurse's notes once more. "Unfortunately, she will be able to be moved to the regular brig shortly, as her injuries are only minor, so I won't be able to have any more fun with her" the paper said. Rowan chuckled, she supposed the girl had been rich or something and used to being doted on. Word had been sent to the flagship, but no special orders concerning the prisoners had come back, so it appeared that standard protocol would be followed and so the prisoners would be transferred to a prison ship and taken back to Callisdrun at the first opportunity.

----------------------------------------------
Later in the afternoon.

The nurse entered the room that the child inhabited for the afternoon checkup, again with a smile on her face. "How are we doing then, girl?" she asked cheerfully, going over to inspect the bandages and treatments. "I hope you enjoyed your meal." A guard came in, a moroii. The nurse paid him no heed and sighed. "You know, we Callisdrunians feed our prisoners the same meals the officers eat."

She chuckled. "You probably won't be seeing me much longer, you know," she said as she finished checking the girl. "Your injuries aren't all that severe, so you'll be transferred to the brig soon," she explained, setting a hideous orange and yellow stripped jumpsuit on the counter, clearly indicating that within a few days, the girl would change out of the hospital type smock she'd been put in upon being taken on board and into the clothing more like prison attire.

Genocide did not touch a bite from her plate. Simply staring at the floor, she never even looked up or said a word to the nurse or even the guard who entered to check up on her. She barely even heard a word they said when the nurse spoke to her.

She wanted her bear. She wanted to be back in her room, in her bed, with her bear.

Instead, she was sent to some place she was never in for a massive bombing that would annihilate half the most productive sectors of The Reich. And now, she was sitting somewhere so unfamiliar, with people who all spoke funny, and all alone.

She wanted those arms back; the strong arms making sure that she was well protected from harm. Still continuing to stare at the ground, even when the nurse performed her assessments, Genocide remembered the sound of the explosion, the man holding her tight. Even in her intense fear, she now found more comfort in that moment then sitting alone in some room without anything of comfort.

Wanting to cry, but unable to do, Genocide merely decided to continue to stare at the floor. Nothing entertaining, no thoughts, no counting of tiles....nothing was in her mind.

"You should eat," she said, noticing that the tray was untouched. "It's really quite good, better than what I eat at home." This was unusual, most everyone shipboard ate heartily, and it had been quite a while since the last time the child could have eaten. "Is it because it's not something you like?"

So far the girl hadn't spoken. The nurse supposed it was because she was mad about earlier. Perhaps she had been wrong to be so blunt with the child, but it had been a very long time since she'd talked to one. "You really need to eat, girl. If there's something you'd prefer, the cooks could probably make it for you." She looked again at the tray. Even the cup of milk (there were no glasses shipboard, just plastic cups) hadn't been disturbed. "I thought you liked milk, you said you wanted some this morning." Of course, she couldn't force the kid to talk or eat. Callisdrunians didn't starve prisoners, but they generally didn't force feed them either.

Shaking his head, the young Elite closed his eyes as well. "Might as well go to sleep when you have a psychotic killer on board," his mind tried to tell him; somehow in its pathetic lack of substance managing to convince him, coercing him to sleep.

The pilot heard the entire event unfold from behind him. This lady spoke so badly of their leader and it enraged him. They came out of their way, putting all their lives in danger for her, and all she could do to repay them was to slander the name of Dante. Whatever qualms she had with their leader, it must have cut deeply to harbor such hatred; even the people who should have hated him the most spared him. Or was it that they all were that weak?

Watching the gages lead him in the darkness of the night, they ever closer approached The Reich. Something in him stirred, wanting to plummit the plane into the frigid waters spreading out below; she has dishonored all they stood for, attacked a partner, and now awake or asleep was left there easily capable of attacking him. He barely knew this woman; all he got to see of her was a brief moment as they escorted her to the base.

Debating whether to ask her a question, he decided not to quickly, finding it in his best interests to keep himself silent. Perhaps she forgot his existence....leaving him at a greater chance of survival from this moment.

“Your thoughts are pounding so loudly in your head, it is hard for me not to over hear,” Charmaine said, appearing directly next to the pilot as best she could. “Even if you crashed this plane into the waters below, it would only result in your death, and me walking, or rather, swimming away as if it never happened. Your partner might be wise to watch what he says, for he insults my pride, my race, and the man I love. Harsh things come from that; very harsh things. He’ll be fine though…” She smiled exposing her beautiful fangs. “He enjoyed it when it was happening.” She smirked and slid back into the seat.

“Get me to the Reich so I can just get home, I’ll be happy.”

The heavy thudding sounded again, louder and more persistent before, commanding that whomever out there be acknowledged. Stepping out from the darkness, Der Fuhrer realized she would be the only one there to answer the door. Checking for the rifle strapped onto her back, she started for the stairs. The pain that accompanied walking and strenous activities started in her legs and continued upward into her back; somehow neglecting that pain, she made her way down the remainder of the stairs, only to be welcomed with another round of heavy thudding.

Removing her rifle, Der Fuhrer proceeded to the door. Out of the corner, she caught the movement of others, but did not turn to see who they were. They approached as cautiously as she did, and she knew that they were as uncertain as she was concerning whether or not they should answer that door.

Her hand grasped the cold nob, her hands cold and clammy, each finger slowly enclosing itself around the nob. Once her hand was firmly planted around it, she twisted it slowly; rifle in one hand, she pulled the door open slowly, shielding herself with the door in the event someone attempted to shoot her.

Standing behind the door, she tried her hardest to protect herself. She heard the heavy boots shuffle, shift the weight of something, and begin to move into the mansion. Instinctively, she pulled her rifle into sights and prepared herself to shoot whoever it was that was coming in; there were several of them that she could hear. From her capitivity, she had acquired impeccable hearing, knowing very well that there were at least five men, one dragging his feet. They were military men, by the sound of their boots, and not men of her military. Their uniforms were designed for stealth, not for the blatent statement that these men seemed to make.

Stepping out from the door, she brought herself around in front of the group, her rifle positioned in the middle of the group. But she saw the face that her rifle was centered on, she dropped her rifle and dropped her jaw in disbelief. She stepped back several steps and stared into those eyes.

"Impossible," she whispered as the sound of others moved in to see who was there.

With the rising sun, the pilot thanked the end of the night. It would not be too much longer before they would reach Stadt and then he could land this plane and get rid of that woman. Something about her, something dark, something forwarning sat unsteadily with him and caused him to fear his own life since the moment they brought her in that plane.

Her remarks didn't settle well with him either. She was not a compassionate one he could tell, and made a mental note not to piss her off for the remainder of the trip. He could see the waters below now, ships were spread out as far as the eye could see. Fear gripped his heart at that sight; if they knew he was there, he could be shot out of the sky. The idea made him tense up on the controls, suddenly jerking the plane to the right.

Unable to fight the pull, the young Elite found himself pressed against Charmaine. Awoken so suddenly, he fought with a moment to realize what was going on, struggling to find his gun. He blinked several times to his face just inches from those menacing fangs.

"HOLY SHIT," he yelled, forcing himself up and away, remembering everythign that transpired the night before and realizing that is was not just a bad dream.

However, he only succeeding in freaking out the pilot further, causing him to jerk the plane to the extreme left, sending Charmaine tumbling atop him. Pressed against the wall of the plane, he could not get away from those fangs.... "God damn it. I'm gonna die," he thought at the site of the white sharpness of those deadly weapons.

Thankfully though, the pilot again slipped up, sending the plane forward, and pitching them both forward. At least now he would have a few more minutes of life, the young Elite was thinking.

"Sorry guys," the pilot quickly apologized, fighting to regain control over the plane. "No one told me that there were ships stationed outside of The Dictatorship."

Richard became saddened and confused when he saw C9 degenerate so suddenly. She had gone from being her old self to being a shell, something depleted of life.. something Richard had been steering towards until just a few moments ago.

He also heard the knocking, the urgent, high pitched sound of metal on metal.. but didn't really think much of it. Someone else will answer in due time. He had more important matters on his mind... including his recent rebirth and C9 showing up again so suddenly weeks after her supposed death.

"Shhhh... who is coming for you? Who else are they coming for? Is this about the people who took you away?" Richard realized he was asking too many questions, so he slowed down, took a deep breath, and said, "Ok, you and I will go check this out and see who they are from a safe distance. Besides... very little can get to you in this fortress.. and anything that gets at you must first get past a million other things."

Offering his hand to C9, Richard felt doubt rise about leaving Damon alone, "but what do we do with him?"

Perhaps Hunny*Dew was right to be so paranoid about who might be at the door, after all, strange things had happened in this place that was as lifeless as nefelheim. Somehow Erzsebet had managed to drag the other woman along with her to answer the door.

Of course, they hadn't gone there directly, making a stop first at the room the Callisdrunian was staying at to get her clothes and axe, so as to avoid being completely unarmed, in case it was someone hostile. The vampiress had simply gotten her pants, belt and boots on (taking a second before hand to brush away any glass that might be on her feet) and then put on her shirt and coat while she walked and chatted every now and then with Admiral Hunny*Dew.

Upon getting to the door, it appeared that the Fuhrer had beat them to it. Because of this, neither could get a good look at who it was on the other side of the door. "Who is it, Fuhrer?" Erzsebet called, not too loudly, but enough to be heard, straining to see who it was that gave the embattled leader such a shock that she had dropped her weapon. She looked to Hunny*Dew, silently seeming to ask if she could see any better who it was.

Charmaine nearly screamed as she was tossed back and forth. “GET THE HELL OFF OF ME YOU PERVERTED BASTARD!” she growled, and threw him from her. The plane then settled, and she got back to her seat, gripping the arms of the chair and seriously wanting to get back onto firm ground. She breathed steadily. She just wanted to go home, and forget about all of this. Mathias was dead, Aiden had wounded her soul, and there was nothing left for her.

C9, fear surfacing in every facet of her mien, looked down at the unconscious man who was being supported on a ventilator. "Kill him," she said, wanting to get him back for what he had done to her. She wanted him to suffer, wanted him to be in agonizing pain, wanted him to know what it was like to lose love.

The heavy thudding though snapped her out of it. And she barely had a chance to think things through, clutching onto Richard with a death grip.

"It's them.... Oh God, please help me," she whined, clutching in intense fear.

Der Fuhrer did not respond to the question directed to her. She merely stared in absolute disbelief as the two men assisted a man of a large muscular build into the mansion. Two more followed, carrying an unconscious man of a similiar build but more menacing, into the room. The man was instantly laid on the floor, his face pale, unflinching, those dark pits of raging hell closed. His dark hair was matted with blood, his head unable to hold itself up. He looked dead.

The other man tried to take a step on his own, but fell into the arms of those assisting him. He would have spoken, Der Fuhrer knew this, if it wasn't for the horrendous thick scar running across his throat.

"Impossible," she whispered again, her mind flashing with his exilarated laughter and panting in that corridor. "Impossible," she repeated yet again....not able to accept that it was who it really was.

Stadt emerged in the distance, beginning to fan out before them. Even from their height, they could see the destruction of the city. Everything was charred, every building collapsed, even the airports were gone. The only thing standing was exactly were they were heading; a large solitary building standing still strong on top of a hill outside of the city.

"We're here," the pilot said, as he began to lower the plane, descending to the runway that he was instructed would be found there. Hitting the run way came quickly, coming to a stop though.....that presented a bit of a problem when the pilot realized they were approaching other planes parked at the end of the runway at too fast of a speed.

"Shit," he cursed, trying his hardest to stop the plane, but found his attempts only caused them to spin like a car doing donuts.

The young Elite, being pressed against the side of the plane felt a wave of nausea spread over him as they continued to spin. It wasn't until they hit something hard that they actually stopped, causing the Elite to smash his head off the side and fall onto the ground unconscious.

The pilot, quickly struggling to open his door, threw up violently. Stepping outside of the plane, watching to avoid stepping in his own upchuck, he helped Charmaine out of the plane.

"Sorry for the rough landing.....damn people need to learn to pull off a runway."

Finding themselves right at the side of the mansion instead of on the runway any longer, the pilot went to help his partner out only to find him unconscious on the ground.

"Oh what the hell happened now?" he asked Charmaine as he fought to drag the dead weight out of the plane. "Can you please help....damn guy's stuck on something."

So, with her demand, Richard stood weighing his options. Odd... how he felt so compelled to keep Damon alive. He supposed that the feeling came from having devoted so much of his time in the past to doing exactly that.

Standing over Damon, he could almost feel the evil radiating from him like the vile stench of a week-old homicide. With Richard's next conscious thought, he was holding a handgun, cocked, and with its safety off. A brief memory of playing with this very gun not even but a few hours ago entered his mind.. and he recalled emptying and reloading the bullets into the magazine several times.

Seven.

C9's cries for help echoed in his head. Its your fault.

Six.

I was your pawn, no longer.

Five.

You destroyed everything I loved.

Four.

And caused so many people such pain.

Three.

He didn't hear anything anymore.

Two.

You deserve to die.

One.

And now you will.

Metal on metal. A foot off in the distance was still rapping on a door; closer to home, a final cartridge hit the floor with a similar tone, yet a much quieter and higher-pitched sound.

“I suppose I must…” Charmaine said, and helped him carry the man, easily out of the plane. She carried him completely by herself, which was strange for a woman of her size. “I just want to get out of here,” she said, almost stumbling. She slowly lowered the young elite on the ground carefully before brushing herself off. As much as she hated him, he was young, and had yet to learn.

Sitting up in bed suddenly, ripping himself free from his machines, Damon grasped the hand pointed at him, turning it toward Richard. The shot fired, the casing clinking off the ground, as the sound of the crumpling body followed with it.

He would have come up with some ominious cold response to give Richard, but the tube still shoved down his throat prevented him from doing so. With a breaking grip, he wrenched the gun free from Richard's hand. Pointing it at Richard's head and finding it feeling awkward to breath, he tore the tube out of his throat swifting, tossing it onto the ground with his free hand.

Naked from the removal of his clothing and no one kind enough to clothe him, he stood up from the bed, stumbling only slightly until he regained his footing. His cold dark eyes of absolutely no feeling burning into Richard.

Thrusting the gun hard into his head to get him to move, Code Six oh so kindly ushered Richard out of the medical facility and toward the door where he too heard the nodding. Able to convince anyone of being unconscious had its perks, he learned through time. People always talked.

They entered the foyer, a group of people beginning to collect around the door, obstructing from view who was all there. Still guiding Richard with the gun, his hand now firmly grasping the back of his shirt around his throat, Code Six slowed as they approached the group. Something big was happening.

"Thank you," the pilot sincerely thanked Charmaine as he stooped down and looped the young Elite over him, carrying him on his shoulders. Leading the way toward the front of the mansion, he followed the instructions precisely as he was told to.

It took a few minutes before they found themselves coming around the corner of the mansion. The front was spread out far, overlooking the destroyed city. He would have felt pity for these people and this nation if it wasn't for the weight of his friend tiring him out. They made their way around the front, but suddenly stopped when a gun being cocked was heard from behind.

"What the fuck?" he cursed, turning around to a man holding guns at both him and Charmaine's head. "Who are you and why are you here?" the man with reflective shades covering his eyes spoke coldly. He wore a neatly pressed suit with a blood splatter across the front of it. A tattoo of an eagle carrying a molotav cocktail was visible under the shades lateral to his right eye.

OOC: Editted, be sure to reread this post.


IC:

Der Fuhrer continued to stare in disbelief. Mathias....still alive.... She was incapable of responding for some reason; incapable of moving and incapable of saying anything. She merely stood there and watched Mathias being supported by the two men.

And then she watched as Dante was laid carefully on the ground, unconscious and not moving. He was pale, lifeless, his head rolling to its side pressing his face against his the cold onyx floor. One of the men, an old man, stayed with Dante, shaking his head and muttering incoherently to Dante.

Mathias just bowed his head, the weight of it becoming too much of him to carry. His body began to sag and if not for the two Elites who compensated for the added weight, Mathias would have been on the ground in a heap.

Der Fuhrer did not need to ask any questions to know that this happy reunion would not last long. Anger flushed in her quickly at the thought that Mathias and Dante appear after being supposed dead and now she would be forced to watch them being buried. She wanted them alive.


In the mean time, Hunny*Dew cautiously approached the situation, moving slowly to see what was happening. It took her a moment to realize that Mathias was back, being supported by two men. Another man she could not get a clear view of was laying on the floor. And Mathias was staring at someone that her eyes followed. "Der Fuhrer!" she let her singsong voice ring out in surprise. She began to shake uncontrollably, her hands coming to her mouth shaking, and tears running down her face. Both Mathias and Der Fuhrer were alive.....she could not handle the sudden shock to her system.

Finding himself suddenly in the foyer of the mansion, Richard blinked.

Wha... what happened?

Something big WAS happening, but at the moment, Richard was totally confused. The last memory he had was of cocking his handgun. Finding himself in a different place was startling to say the least. A cold metal object touching the back of his head confirmed his suspicions that he should be as still as possible.

Without moving his head, Richard looked to either side. So who is holding the gun?

For the moment, he became caught up in what was going on directly in front of him. A commotion had ensued over whatever it was, and Richard was vaguely interested.

EDIT: DFD will be editing her previous post, do not respond to it, thanks!

On board Alfheim:

Captain Maydat was again on the bridge, overseeing the evening operations of her ship when an orderly came up to her and saluted, then giving an announcement.

"One of the fighters on patrol has reported spotting another aircraft like the one that crashed on our flight deck."

"Was any move made to stop it or force it to land?" Rowan asked, interested.

"No, it was away before they could move to intercept it."

"Thank you. Dismissed." How very strange she thought. If it was like the captured plane, it would be a military vehicle, but neither had made any effort to fire on the fleet. Perhaps it was an aircraft suited to intelligence gathering. The total silence on the part of the pilot and surviving guard when she had spoken to them earlier that day would fit with that scenario. Yet why had it been carrying a child? Was she part of their military? Altar Rangians had used children as soldiers, hoping (in vain, it had turned out) that Callisdrunian soldiers would not fire on their soldiers if they were children. However, from the nurse's report, she sounded to be more a spoiled aristocrat than a soldier. She had been transferred to the brig a few hours earlier, her wounds being deemed to have healed enough to move her out of a medical room she had been occupying. The nurse assigned to her had reported that the child seemed to be under some emotional duress, as she had refused food and no longer spoke. Oh well the captain thought sighing. I suppose she'll need a shrink when she gets to Callisdrun.

Meanwhile, the lights had been turned off in the girl's cell. A food tray had been slid through another small slot earlier, but it was intended that the tray would be picked up in the morning. There was no way to tell if it was day or night in the tiny room, except that the guards turned the lights on at about 10:00 AM and off at about midnight. The cell (it was quite obviously a cell) contained one bed (though not an uncomfortable one), one toilet and one small sink. There was a peephole in the door, though, unlike those of hotel rooms, it was meant for looking in, not out. There was absolutely nothing aside from the absolute necessities in the room, no wallpaper or carpets, just bare metal. At this point in time, the only sounds were far away, the occasional footstep or clank, the sound of the engine and even a faint sound of the waves against the hull of the vessal. A request form for reading material from the ship's library would be delivered with the morning's breakfast, but for now, the prisoner had been left on her own.

Charmaine felt the gun being pressed to her head. “My name is Charmaine Shentavo…” she started. She realized it would mean nothing to them. “I was Mathias’ girlfriend.” Her long white hair trailed over one shoulder as the elite could see her lavender eyes slip into crimson pools as she prepared herself to fight. “And I guarantee…if you pull that trigger, it will be the last thing you will ever do. I am quite thirsty after such a long plane ride…” She then started bracing herself for impact, her sensitive ears getting ready to hear his finger joints move and observe his heart rate. She was a trained killer; a Scarlet O’Harra. She was damn good at what she did. Emotions didn’t play into things until Mathias; and with him dead, there was really nothing left for her to do but kill…just like the monster she was.

"Silence woman. We were ordered by Dyszel to secure the parameters outside the mansion. If you are not here under friendly terms, then leave and do not come back," the Freedom Fighter's cold voice broke through the deathlike silence of The Dictatorship.

"Sir, whoever the hell you are, we're here under General Diehl's orders. He instructed us to bring this woman over to The Reich. We're to return this woman who was held hostage in Mahanoy. How the hell do you assume we're here to cause trouble?" the pilot retorted angerily. For someone who didn't like to put up with bullshit, he was finding himself submerged in a whole pile of it.

"Dante's Elites are here," the man spoke seemingly to himself. In a few moments of awkward silence, two other men joined aside the one who had first captured them. "What do we do?" he asked one of the men who joined.

The man said nothing, eyeing up the ensemble gathered outside the mansion. "Take her in," was all he ordered before the other man seized Charmaine from behind and pushed her forward. With Charmaine a good twenty feet ahead, the first man grabbed the young Elite off the pilot's back and dropped him to the ground. Holding a gun to the back of the pilot's head he pulled the trigger a single time, the bullet tearing through the pilot's brain stem.

Watching Charmaine being brought ever closer to the main enterence, the two Freedom Fighters stood like ominious figures in shadows stalking their prey, ready to fight if the situation became complicated.

"Standard protocol," the third Freedom Fighter explained to Charmaine as he gave her a shove into the mansion door, and before being seen by anyone, he slammed the door shut hard. Joining the other's, the three moved back to the plane; the new information that they had retrieved formulating many questions in their heads. They were certain they now knew who landed earlier and an evil smiled played on Three One's lips at the thought that they were so close to completing their mission.

Genocide sat in the cell, uninterested by what was happening to her. She wanted her bear back. She wanted to curl up with her bear and forget everything. The sound of the tray being pushed under her door did not even catch her attention. Whatever was happening, she could not understand it.

Looking up to the door, she noticed the small peephole on it. She knew what they were used for and she didn't like beng on the other side of one this time around.

But emersed in her thoughts, the vision of the blood covered door and that man behind them flooded her. She now realized why he done that. It was no fun being the spectacle of some one else to look upon you. Looking at her finger, she closed her eyes tightly as she bit down onto the nail hard, ripping half of it free. Her finger when from light pink to instant red as droplets of blood formed on the tiny tip of her finger.

Trying to reach the hole, she was too small.....but the single bed in the room gave her enough height to reach it. Scrambling onto the bed, she jumped off it, hitting the door with her hand extending, missing the peephole the first time. She scrambled up a second time and jumping off, she managed to smear the blood across the hole as she landed on the ground in a thud.

Giggling that it actually worked, she paraded about her small cell, dancing to herself.....until the momentem from the moment was gone and the pulsating pain in her finger took over.

"Owe owe owe," she cried as grasped her finger, holding it tightly with her casted hand.

Holding Richard tightly with the gun pressed to the back of Richard's head, Code Six made his way through the gathering of people. He stopped to see Der Fuhrer standing a bit apart, staring in disbelief at whomever opened the door. Hunny*Dew stood apart from the crowd as well, beside another woman, walking cautiously toward the crowd.

Two men supported a man whose face Code Six remembered all too well. That man was the first man to kill one of them. Behind Mathias, another man was carried in and carefully placed onto the floor by two men. The oldest man of the group, stepped forward toward Der Fuhrer, and Code Six's mind fought hard to remember who that man who looked familiar was.

Something was definately going on here and all he wanted to know was what was going on and who was laying now laid onto the floor.

Pressing the gun harder against Richard's head, Code Six felt his knees shake for moment. His vision failed for just a brief moment, black flies flittering about, but he regained himself just as quickly. He wouldn't be able to stand much longer; he knew this, but until the situation was worked out, he'd be forced to.

Throbbing pain ran through her back, and she dropped to one knee, nearly crying.. The tattoo on her back was burning. She let out a soft sigh as the wings shifted once again their position. “Mother…what the hell are you doing…” she whispered softly. Her long white hair fell at her waist, curling toward the ends of it in soft waves that seemed like the curves of vicious talons. She gripped her shoulder, as it was the best she could do for the pain racing through her back. She coughed, a bit of blood coming from her lips, and wasn’t sure why internally there was damage. It couldn’t have been from the rough landing. She wouldn’t have bruised that easily. She felt a wave of heat sweep over her as the pain eased a bit, but still remained present. She stood slowly, the crimson color never fading from her eyes. Steadying herself, she managed to get a hold of her surroundings, and she looked up.

“Mathias!” she said in a soft gasp, her red eyes widening. “You…alive…I…” She took a step towards him...then another.

Mathias tried to turn, but found his body far too weak to do so. He was tired and wanted to sleep. Collapsing into the arms of the guard, Mathias was unable to see who had come in behind him.

That voice though.....that he could never forget. "Charmaine....." his mind called in, hoping so much that it would have actually been her.

Finding it harder to support Mathias's dead weight for as long as they were, the Elites looked to Der Fuhrer, a woman appearing to be of some sort of importance. "Can we get him a seat or something?" they asked, oblivious to Charmaine's presence among them.

They had heard the door slam, but assumed that it was the other Elites behind them. And without Mathias's ability to speak, Mathias had no way to instruct them to stop.

Charmaine was by his side in a heartbeat, pulling him from them with all of her strength and hugging him tightly. “Mathias…oh my god…I’m here now…oh god…” She buried her face into him, pulling him as close to her as he could possibly get. She sensed his heartbeat, his state of weakness. There was no way in hell one syringe was going to fix this. It would have to be on quite a larger scale. She kissed him, completely ignoring those around her, she didn’t care, and she didn’t care at all. She was with him; he was alive, though barely. She kissed every inch of his lips and held him protectively in her arms.

She stroked his dark hair and the white silken tendrils of her own brushed against his chest as she leaned over him. “I can’t fix what’s happened to you with a syringe of blood Mathias…but…” she paused for a moment, wondering if she would be strong enough. I could…make you like me. You’d never have this pain again. Your skin would loose a bit of color, you’d be vulnerable in sunlight…you’d have to drink blood…but you’ll be strong. You’ll be alive…you’ll be with me forever. I can’t make the choice though. It has to be your own. She paused and kissed his forehead. “Please tell me yes, Mathias….please tell me you will spend eternity with me…please….”

Der Fuhrer watched as Charmaine came to Mathias's side. From there, her life just disappeared behind their love. Her heart was broken instantly; watching Mathias leave to another woman. She stepped back silently, trying to escape the situation as quietly as possible.


In the mean time, Hunny*Dew's attention was drawn back to Mathias when this woman from out of no where came in, the door slamming loudly to demand attention to her presence. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but Hunny*Dew could not place her finger on where this woman was from.

Grabbing ahold of Erzsebet, she pulled her along, "come with me Erzsebet. I think we should see what is going on."


Mathias, too fatigued to understand what Charmaine was asking, merely looked at her, trying to keep his eyes on hers. His eyelids felt heavy though and his body sunk with exhaustion. His arms worked their way weakily around her, trying to hold her there. He wanted her there, wanted her with him when he would die. He felt comfortable with her there, soothing him, caring for him.....he loved her. "I need to find a cure first." his mind mustered in its weakness, "if not for me, for Dante....he needs to live....although I think he might have passed already....." His mind flooded with depressed emotions. The hell he went through, being told Charmaine was dead, watching them brutalize Der Fuhrer's children, Genocide's torture, the unbearable cold they kept him sustained under. It all rushed back and he burrowed his head into Charmaine's chest, letting himself cry, despite who was watching. All he wanted to do was save Dante, the man who had tried to kill him so long ago.

“I don’t want to loose you…” she whispered softly into his ear, rocking him back and forth. “But if that’s what you want…I’ll do what I can to help you.” She was near tears. It was not the answer she had wanted. She didn’t want to loose him, not all over again. Her heart could simply not bear it. She was a slave to his wishes, as love makes you such.

“GET ME SOME SYRINGES!” she yelled out. “Hurry…” One of the guards complied, even though the order was not from one of his own. It was a few minutes before she received them. She carelessly jammed one into her arm and drew blood, then injected it into his arm. She drew more from herself, and more, and more, and more, and more, until she felt feint. She could not turn him without taking blood away from him; without biting his neck. She had given him so much of her blood that the pangs of hunger had kicked in. She drew another one, and injected it into him. He could still test his blood. Hers would repair any damaged tissue and give him strength, but his blood would still be there. It wouldn’t change unless she turned him. There were tears in her eyes. Was Dante more important than her? Was the cure so necessary to find for the one that gave him such a wound.

She felt the pains of hunger again and curled up on the floor, half crazed with blood red eyes. When a guard moved toward her, she hissed at him to get away from her, and lie there on the floor, twitching in pain that would fade within a few hours, unless she went into a frenzy.

The guard assigned to this shift was bored when he heard a commotion coming from the child's room. How strange he thought as he made his way to the door. I thought she'd be asleep or something. Looking in, he couldn't see anything, something had been smeared over the other side of the peephole. It had a faint reddish tint, though it was quite dark.

He had already called for another guard to stand by and decided to open the door when he heard small cries of "ow" coming from inside. The cells were not the least bit soundproof, though their metal walls gave everything a tinny sound.

When he opened the door, he saw that the girl was tightly holding her finger, which appeared to be bleeding. By now, the other guard had come and so he told her to call a medic.

A few minutes later, the kid was back in the secure medical bay, and the same nurse as before was finishing bandaging her finger. "How did you hurt your finger?" She asked, in a voice that was not hostile or annoyed, just perplexed. It seemed a very odd thing for a child to do. "I bet it felt pretty bad," she said as she washed her hands nearby, having bandaged the digit. Supposedly, the girl had smeared blood over the peephole, which was also quite strange. It would be quite sad if a child so young had some sort of emotional or mental issue.

The situation was really quite confusing for Erzsebet. Mathias, who had disappeared, and then the other vampiress, who was in love with him. She could recognize her, no doubt about it, though it had been a little while. To some degree, the other woman, whose name was Charmaine if she recalled correctly, made her nervous, as Erzsebet was only a moroii and she was not.

She was suddenly aware of being pulled by the arm by Admiral Hunny*Dew, but she came willingly. The Callisdrunian simply nodded and walked a bit faster so that she wouldn't have to be pulled.

Code Six watched in interest as this frantic woman pumped her blood into Mathias. Moving out from the crowd, he thrust Richard forward. Attempting to speak, his apathetic voice, colder then ice, sounded scratchy, "You, what are you doing?"

Holding the gun still aimed at Richard, he squatted down next to her and Mathias. "You. Woman. What are you doing?"


Mathias, feeling relieved by the blood given, but still feeling the nausating effects of the two chemicals warring in his body, looked up to see who was speaking to Charmaine, only to see a man long since dead.

"Charmaine....." his mind called out, seeking her comforting presence again. The man before him was supposed to be dead. He looked just like he last remembered, except for that tattoo set on the right side of his face next to his eye. And those eyes, they were colder now, emotionaless.....but then again, hadn't war done that to them all?


Hunny*Dew entered the scene with Erzsebet, seeming a bit confused as to what was going on. A man, Damon?, was holding a gun to Richard's head. Richard was still there. Mathias alive. This mysterious woman injecting her blood into Mathias and now curled in the fetal position upon the floor. And through this all, she was trying to make sense of how, just how it came down to this. Then she looked to Der Fuhrer for answers only to find that she was no longer standing where she had last been seen. "Der Fuhrer?" Hunny*Dew's singsong voice anxiously inquired into the crowd of people surrounding. She felt fear creep up inside her. She had seen her beloved Fuhrer for just a brief moment after believing her to be dead for too long and now, she was gone again. Tears poured from her eyes; she could not take the emotional torment she faced right now.

"She's gone," she cried, joining Mathias, Charmaine, and Damon on the floor. "She's gone...." she repeated in disbelief, her voice now empty, her eyes shallow as if suddenly lost of life.

Charmaine managed to recoil and sit up at Mathias’ request, driven by the sheer force of giving everything to him. She was his slave, whether he knew it or not. It was always a Shentavo’s love that destroyed them. They had a great capacity for compassion. She lifted her arms around him and fought not to press her paling lips to his skin for fear she might hurt him. “I’m here…what do you need me to do. How can we find this cure…Just name it and I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll do anything for you.” She said, stroking his hair but averting her eyes slightly to avoid the pulsating vein on his neck. She helped him up, but had lost strength herself. She didn’t need support, but it took a good deal of effort to get him to his feet.

Erzsebet looked around, as it was odd that the Fuhrer had so suddenly disappeared. This was a very dangerous situation, what with that man holding a gun against Richard's head. The other vampiress, Charmaine was curled up on the floor, looking in a rather bad state. I bet she's hungry Erzsebet thought to herself. That could make the situation even more dangerous, as she didn't know how the other vampiress was, but she knew very well that when she needed blood, she could sometimes lose control, and had fairly recently. It was not a pleasant memory, as she had bitten someone who had been a close friend since childhood.

She shifted her eyes between those present, trying to avoid doing anything that would light this potential powder keg. She saw Charmaine sit up and help Mathias to his feet. Erzsebet, being what she was, could not help but notice where the other woman's eyes kept going, or more, where they were very noticiably avoiding.

Apparating suddenly amid the group, the very interested Red Queen looked at her new guests with enthusiasm. "My my my, Mister Maypheeis is back! And Amirable is back. And Richard too!" she sang as she danced around the group, naming all those that she could indentify in that room as she danced around them. Standing before the cold presence of Charmaine, she looked up and down the woman helping Mathias. "You are not alive," the little girl spoke, as if informing Charmaine something new.

After making her rounds of everyone in the room, including Dante's Elites, she contently smiled at Charmaine standing in front of both her and Mathias; the only person she had not called or acknowledged being Dante and Der Fuhrer. Looking at Charmaine and tilting her head like a little puppy, she giggled, "You are not alive! Mister Maypheeis! Mister Maypheeis! She is not alive!"


Mathias looked to Charmaine though. He merely shook his head at The Red Queen, and looked into Charmaine's eyes, noticing the unsual colorlessness even for her. "Charmaine? Are you alright?" his mind asked her, as his arms, with a greater strength then before, pulled her into his embrace. He held onto her tightly, too afraid to let go this time.

Richard didn't dare move with the steel still firmly against his head, unless by its movement... pushing against his head in the direction he was to move.

Amidst the commotion, very few people had noticed the two of them, but the immediate threat was there. A Reich Freedom Fighter was poised to splatter pieces of his brain all over everyone else.

Hunny*Dew caused him to do a double-take. Well shit.. everyone is coming to life lately. He could spare no further thought than that, his terror at dying growing strong and he knew, that if Damon pulled the trigger now, there would be no coming back to life for him. He actually wanted to live.. what a novel concept. At that thought, and the reason behind it, he smiled.. C9 was alive! This was one good day amidst too many bad.

The blank spot in his memory bothered him.. so much that beyond the double-take, he did not even acknowledge Hunny*Dew as much as he should have.. then again, she quite obviously had something else on her mind... something else strong enough to not blanch at the sight of Damon.

Richard wanted to make a move, but he knew it was fruitless.. and he didn't want to hurt C9 anymore than she had been by turning up dead on her.. so he would bide his time amongst the excitement, and hope for an opportunity to escape, even though the odds were stacked against it.

Charmaine ignored Mathias’ concern. Those words were blaring in her mind. She’s not alive…she’s not alive… She wanted to cry, and a tear slid down her cheek as she buried her head into Mathias while biting her own lip to keep from biting him. Not alive; just a dead girl…just a walking corpse. That’s all she was. She was dead. She’s not alive…she’s not alive. The Red Queen repeated over and over again, until Charmaine was sobbing. Mathias knew Charmaine's reaction to being called dead. He had once called her dead.

Erzsebet did not break the silence when the Red Queen appeared, though the look of surprise on her visage was probably priceless. Great, just when things couldn't possibly get more strange. She realized that in a situation like this, bad things could very well happen, and probably would.

For some reason the Red Queen (Erzsebet continued to think it was amusing that a child enjoy such a title, though maybe not real, but a child's image nonetheless) seemed to be fixated on Charmaine, and amazed at the fact that she wasn't alive. A strigoi; not surprising she thought, turning her attention to the scene between the computer and the vampire. Erzsebet herself lived and breathed, a moroii, a vampire, but a living organism no less. Legends told of vampires that were essentially corpses that walked, talked, never rotted, and drank blood. It had been apparent from the start that Charmaine was not the same kind of blood drinker that the Callisdrunian was. For some reason, the image in front of her was moving. The childlike but all powerful computer, the sobbing vampiress, Richard, who was a few short inches from the bullet that would send him to his death, the man standing behind him who might kill him for what reason the gods only knew, Mathias, clearly dying, in love with a vampire who earlier had obviously (in another vampire's eyes) had to force herself from biting his throat and killing him, but was now crying because she was dead and so on. And here she was, for no apparent purpose, witness to it all.

"What the Hel is going on?" she asked aloud, only realizing she had spoken after she said it.

Mathias knew there was nothing he could say to mend those wounds cut open by The Red Queen. He knew that there was little he could do to break past her sorrow. All he could do was show her that he loved her....no matter who she was.

Pulling Charmaine closer, he ran his hand through her hair, the softness of it bringing back flashes from their brief past together. He could not speak; he could not tell The Red Queen to go away like any of the other Reich heirarchy could. He could not command her like any of the others. And now he stood powerless to defend the woman he loved from the stabbing words of a childlike figure manifested from an artificial intelligence beyond anything any of them had dreamed of in the past.

"Charmaine......" his mind sought out for her, groping blindly to just reach out to her and pull her in. He fought to hold back his feelings; he needed to be strong for her at this moment, despite the fact that every second that passed brought him closer to the inevitable death that beckoned him like a dog to a piece of bacon.

Erzsebet had spoke, breaking the silence that was filling the room; inquiries of the events around them that were taking place. No one could answer; everyone transfixed on their individual sitations, waiting for the other to speak first.

The voice that next sounded was strong, authoritative, and bold. It sounded over the silence, commanded the room the compliance, "Red Queen, leave now."

It took a moment to process where the voice had come from, but from the back of the crowd, the woman clad in all black with a pair of familiar reflective shades covered her eyes. She walked toward them, an obviously limp her step.

She looked past Mathias, past Charmaine, past Code Six, past Richard, past Hunny*Dew, past the disappating Red Queen and directly at Erzsebet. And although her eyes were well shielded by the shades, it was also clear that she was staring into the eyes of Erzsebet. "I would have asked myself. However, it seems that it could be summarized in saying that we are not dead afterall. With that, I am reclaiming my role as Dictator. As I have stated in the past, if anyone has a problem with that, shoot me right now and do it right with the first shot. You do not want to miss."

With the air of authority ringing coldly in her voice, Hunny*Dew saw the face of a leader she once remembered now hardened. Her beloved friend had become cold, emotionless; the only thing distinguishing her from her counter partner Freedom Fighters was the lack of male gentalia.

She stared into the eyes of everyone she could, fixating on Richard and Damon. Damon was holding Richard at gun point; something had happened and she made a mental note to explore that later.

Mathias though, instead of looking at Der Fuhrer, he pressed Charmaine's head protectively to his chest, unwilling to let go even though Der Fuhrer had set the grounds for him to reclaim his position at her side.

Afraid to move, afraid to break the silence and stillness of that room, Hunny*Dew merely stared in disbelief. Mathias, the Mathias Bortniansky, had not so much as even acknowledged Der Fuhrer's statement.

Charmaine tried her tears, and Mathias kept his gaze fixated at her. She looked up into his eyes with deep lavender pools. She wanted to kiss him; more than anything in the entire world. She slipped from his grasp, and knew he would protest, but she managed to stand up, and bring up Mathias with her. Stand…walk…find your cure before I have no blood left to give, she whispered, and paused. She had not been completely honest with him. She slipped her arms around his side. Mathias…I need to tell you something…about who I am. She cast her eyes downcast for a minute, then looked up into his. Charmaine is my middle name. My first name is Sarah. I’m Ravelyn’s daughter, I’m…I’m the next in line for the throne of three empires. I wanted to tell you, but I never got the chance. That night you were taken…I…never got a chance to tell you. She wrapped her arms around him tightly. I never got a chance to tell you how much I loved you. I never got to show you how much I loved you before… she paused.

“What do you need me to do, Mathias?” she asked softly. “For this vaccine…what do you need me to do?” She had given away her identity. It was just a name; it did not affect her personality or how she acted, but still, she wanted him to know. She wanted him to know that if he ended up going with her, after all this was over, that she perhaps would have to take over as empress for her nation, and wanted him as her emperor. Either way; if he went with her, there would be a lot waiting. If he didn't want to go, she would stay. Let her nation crumble. This man; this man was the only thing that meant anything to her at that moment. She loved him; even though she was just a corpse.

Although the words Charmaine spoke had little to no meaning to him as a person, he knew it was something important to Charmaine. Even if he did not understand why it was important or what it had meant to him, the fact that it was something she felt imperative to tell him was enough for him to be supportive in whichever ways he could.

"I love you," was all he thought, hoping that it would be more then enough to say everything he wanted to.

Sharing a moment with Charmaine, a moment that was just their's and no one elses, he stared into those lavender pools and held her close, bringing his lips closer to hers.

It no longer mattered that Der Fuhrer was standing right there or that Dante was a lifeless heap laid on the floor. It did not matter to him that anyone else was there or what they had to say about them. What mattered most was that he was there with her; the rest of his world could crumble beneath him as it already had and he would not even blink.....he was with her.....he loved her.

Charmaine smiled. “I love you, too…” she whispered. It was strange; for it seemed like she was talking to a brick wall but getting the responses she needed, even getting those small words that meant so much. She leaned forward and kissed him. Chills ran down her spine, and for a split second or two, it looked like she had wings; transparent, without substance. In the blink of an eye it was gone. She held Mathias close to her. I want to get this done. I want to go home with you…we need the vaccine for Dante, and soon. I have very little blood left to sustain you, and as much as I don’t want to move from this position, we must. After this is over, after this is all over, we can finally spend some time together uninterrupted. But until then, I will help you with the vaccine.

Erzsebet stared right back, directly into the Fuhrer's eyes, though she could not see them, she knew where they were, and that they were directed at her. Her own irises were like pools of green fire amid a field of ice. After a brief tense moment, she simply nodded. It was a gesture of acknowledgement of the Fuhrer's authority, which, in Erzsebet's mind, she had reclaimed with her mere return. Announcing that she was doing so was unnecessary, at least in the mind of the Callisdrunian vampiress.

Though moroii were on average more intelligent than humans, they were also still very much in touch with animalistic instincts, so immediate threats occupied much of Erzsebet's mind. Chief among these was the man with the gun. While the Fuhrer was probably more formidable than this pistol-toting man, the former Erzsebet thought of as on the same side, while the latter had a high likelyhood of being an enemy. The other vampiress was a possible threat, but was dedicated to Mathias, who was on the same side as the Fuhrer, which was the side Erzsebet thought of herself as being on. So her main concern remained the man with the gun, though she also paid intent attention to what the Fuhrer would do about the situation. Erzsebet was aware of how outmatched she would be if it came to a confrontation with the armed man, as she only had her axe, still needing a replacement for her AK-103.

Der Fuhrer smiled whimsically at the situation before her. Her best friend had stood down; bloody, soiled, and exhausted, Mathias had openly renounced his role beside Der Fuhrer. Stooping down, she grabbed her previously dropped rifle and slid it onto her back where she kept it for easy access. Still with that whimsical smile, she moved forward to Damon and Richard, lightly touching Damon's shoulder to lower his arm. Her voice was softer then usual, lacking the cold authority that was seen just moments ago. "You are starting to scare people Damon. We will talk later, but for the moment, lower your weapon and put some clothes on."

Avoiding Der Fuhrer's eye contact, Code Six slowly succumbed to lowering the gun pointed at Richard's head. With the gun at his side, his peripheral vision caught site of the man lying on the floor. He recognized the identity of the man on the floor, a lifeless body amid the sudden outburst of life and energy.

"Dante," the menacing word slipped out of his mouth, stinging the air with a poisonous venom.

He raised the gun once again, his mind set on a new target. Without emotion, without feeling, he pushed past Der Fuhrer and Dante's Elites, heading straight for Dante. Holding the gun to the lifeless body on the floor, a rush of memories filled his head.

Face to face, Code Six held Dante's neck in his hands, squeezing the very life out of Dante. Dante tried to struggle, tried to break free, the mask covering his face falling to the ground, shattering into a thousand shards. Code Six watched closely, staring deep into the eyes of Dante as the raging inferno behind them died down with each struggled breath Dante took.

"Damon," that voice sounded again, bringing him back to his current reality. The voice was trying its hardest to remain calm, cautiously approaching Code Six, "Do not shoot him. He is our only chance at fighting this war. He is on our side now," Der Fuhrer ordered, walking slowly toward him.

Lowering the gun to his side, Code Six once again surrendered to Der Fuhrer's commands. Realizing he had now become the center of this spectacle, he turned away from the crowd and walked back to the medical facility, his mind already formulating the plan to complete his mission. It would only be a matter of time before his grand coup de graces.


Watching Damon leave the room, Der Fuhrer turned to the ensemble before her. "You may all return to your rooms now. We will meet me in the conference room in an hour," he authoritative voice demanded of the crowd. Looking at Dante's lifeless body, a bloody heap and a fragmented soul, a feeling of disgust and rage burned inside of her. "Get him off the floor," she ordered before turning her back on them and following in pursuit of Damon.


Mathias watched as Dante's Elites scooped down and picked up Dante once again, Dante's head falling back weakly. He was heavy to hold, his dead weight pulling them down after such a long journey. And despite them patching both Mathias and Dante up before leaving for The Dictatorship, they both looked like horribly destroyed men.

Feeling the familiar stiffness in his joints again, Mathias clutched onto Charmaine. "Let's go. I need to get to my lab. I can't go in it or I'll die but you probably can pass through without the effects of XGN killing you. I'll lead you to the lab but after that I'll have to leave you go on without me. Is that alright?" his mind reached out to Charmaine.

He knew they would have to move fast. If he opened his lab they would only have a few seconds before toxic levels of the chemical seeped out into the mansion air and poisoned everyone. But it was the only chance he had to save Dante, and he knew Charmaine was the only one capable of withstanding the chemicals effects and able to move fast enough to get what he needed and get out of there without exposing the mansion to certain death.

Charmaine nodded and supported him, moving quickly away from the group. They would still be able to communicate even if he was in the other room. For once, a means of communication was a plus for the couple. “If you need me, holler…” she said quietly, meaning if he was dying, tell her. The chemicals could wait. “Let’s get this done eh? Then we can go home…” As they moved, Mathias could feel a breeze at his back, like the beat of a bird’s wing just above his skin.

Mathias instructed Charmaine to the lab, turning left after they got up the main staircase. The exertion seemed to take too much energy out of Mathias and he found himself relying heavily on Charmaine to get him to the lab. They followed the dark labyrinth of corridors until they came to the shattered glass that once compromised a window that concealed the entrance to this laboratory.

Falling short of breath by the third stair, Mathias's breathing became heavy and labored, taking far too much effort for a simple task. If it was not for Charmaine's guidance, he would have never made it up the narrow fight of stairs.

Once on top, Mathias stared at the doors sealed tightly before him. Without him, there would be no way to open those doors. Collapsing onto the scanner, he held on for support as he typed in a code and placed his hand and eye simultaneously before it. After a few moments, he typed another code in, and a mechanical voice emanated from seemingly no where. "Welcome Mister Bortniansky. Doors opening in five....four....three..."

"Once these doors open, you have to run in and shut them immediately. There is a matching scanner on the other side and an emergency shut down button. Hit that button. I'll guide you through once you get that done. The doors can't be open for longer then a second or we risk spreading that chemical into the entire mansion," Mathias mentally instructed Charmaine what she would have to do. Grasping her hand and giving it a quick squeeze, Mathias wished her luck before the countdown finished.

"Two....one...." the voice finished, the doors instantly whooshing open with a loud hissing sound, air pushing out and sucking in at the same time.

Charmaine heard the countdown, and readied herself. All you have to do it want it… she remembered her mother telling her when she was younger. And it will be yours. When the doors unlocked, she was on the other side so quickly, that it seemed she willed herself there. The button was pressed nanoseconds after the doors had unlatched. She moved like a ray of light. The doors slammed shut. She breathed in. I’m in… she called to him. She tied her long white hair back with the elastic around her wrist. Her lavender eyes took in her surroundings. There were benches tables. It was darker, but her eyes adjusted with a dull violet glow. There were bottles of liquids everywhere, syringes. Strange, but this felt like home to her. Her lab…well, her lab was similar, except perhaps a bit more organized, and built only for her use.

Tell me what to do…luckily due to my chemical training you don’t have to teach me how to use equiptment…just give me orders.

The rush of air was just enough to pummel Mathias onto the ground. Breathing heavily, he heard Charmaine speak to him, but found himself unable to respond for a moment, her words not processing inside his head. He stared at the doors that sealed shut again and took a deep breath, his lungs instantly searing with pain. He tried to hold his breath, only to take a deeper breath which seemed to incinerate his lungs. He gasped for breath, feeling the pain spread quickly from his lungs into his heart and throughout his body.

Curling into the fetal position instinctively, he let out an airy groan of pain, the only sound he was capable of making. Beginning to shake and tremble uncontrollably, he felt the very blood vessels of his body and lungs spasm. Feeling the excruciating effects of this volatile death he created, Mathias wondered how many people had to experience this death. And for a moment in his life, he regretted being involved in this war.

"Charmaine....." his mind sought out amid the pain, "There is an open vial of a black vicious liquid on the far table. If there is any left, seal it tightly and place it inside the metal container aside of it. In the back, there is a room set off.....you'll find it.....inside is filled with various chemicals.......there should be small vials filled with blood.....grab those." Blood started to drip from his nose, slowly followed by a steady stream out of his mouth. He tried to breath, but found that his lungs were failing far too quickly.

"I'm not sure how much time I have left. It's killing me. Grab whatever you can. I don't know what this is....." the regret filled him; the uncertainty, the inability to solve this puzzle, it all rushed over him in a depressed wave of emotions. "I don't know what this is....."

He felt his beating heart grow weaker with each second in his chest; he felt his lungs take in less oxygen with each breath. He was dying....again.... "Damn it...." he cursed his luck again. "Charmaine....... I love you....."

Again, he slipped into the black oblivion. Once again, no discernable pulse could be felt, no evident breathing could be distinguished.....but he heard the muffled blurs. He could see nothing, feel nothing, but he could still hear.

She grabbed the open black vile of vicious liquid on the far table and sealed it. She heard Mathias’ words. “Don’t die on me, Mathias…if you can’t develop a serum…then I will. You didn’t have my blood to experiment with before. If my blood counteracts something in the chemical structure even temporarily which makes it useless on me, and you when I give you my blood, I can synthesize a compound similar that can permanently negate the structural change.” She said to him silently, and grabbed the vials of blood. She set up a testing rack. The vials of blood had been easy to find. She could smell them, taste them through the glass. “Just stay with me Mathias,” she sent to him. “Just stay with me and then I’ll take you home with me. I need you to stay alive. If you love me than stay with me…this is not your time to die.”

“Tell me what I’m working with,” she said, and stuck a needle into her arm drawing her own blood. “I take it that black vile is the compound which is so volatile…my blood stops it, even for a while. You didn’t have my blood to work with before Mathias. Tell me the chemical formula of it.” It was then that the alchemist went to work. “If you can’t respond, I’ll have to test it myself and determine the composition, then solidify which component in my blood negates it. If my guess is right, it is the hemophetamines.

Mathias could not hear the words; inside his head were blurred words that no longer made sense to him. He knew Charmaine was speaking to him and in his desperate state that was enough. He wanted her voice to be the last thing he ever heard. No longer breathing with a heart that was no longer beating, he faced the fear that had gripped him before when he was placed in a body bag....death. Was this death? Was this is what he had to look forward to after this life? An existence of just being there in his dead body unable to move, see, hear, feel anything?

"Charmaine......"

Charmaine sighted. She was on her own. She raised a microscope and took out a lens from a small box as well as a cover slip. She placed a drop of sample blood; his blood, on the slide, and slid it under the microscope, adjusting it at the lowest setting before switching it to a higher power. She had no idea what she was looking for, but had a good way of finding out. She took the syringe of her blood and carefully added her blood to the slide simultaneously watching. There were very few cells in her blood; there were no red blood cells, no white cells, no platelets. There were only hemophetamines, which were also red but a different shape then red blood cells. They were more circular. They did the job of platelets and white blood cells. For this trait it is perhaps the reason that her bloodline was so sought after. It had none of the impurities that ran around other vampiric breeds. They were purely what they were, and nothing else. There were no chemical traces of ever being human in their blood stream.

She watched as the hemophetamines seemed to buzz around in the blood, as if rapidly consuming degenerate cells. This is how her line survived; drinking the blood of others. The hemophetamines consumed their cells to produce more of themselves. This was normal, what she was looking for was something that was left over. Whatever was left over, she needed to observe. There seemed to be tiny platelet like objects, but a lot smaller. They were like pinpricks on the slide even with this magnification. She sighed softly. “Come on,” she cursed under her breath, “give me something to work with…” The slide was a lighter shade of red, considering all the red blood cells were gone. The hemophetamines had increased in size and split. If the hemophetamines are not in a host, then they soon die, which is why when Mathias’ blood cycled through he could only last for so long before it kicked in again.

Charmaine herself felt dizzy. She had given a hefty amount of blood to Mathias, and still he was failing. She needed to figure this out, and fast. She watched as the hemophetamines died off one by one, as they had no where to go. Then, she watched as the small black dots started to come together. Had he had the hemophetamines in his blood constantly, if she turned him, then they would be dormant forever, possibly destroyed. He wanted to save this man, and Charmaine had not the strength for both. Mathias was worse off then Dante. “How do I keep you in that phase?” she questioned, and shook her head. The best alchemist in the Three United Empires couldn’t figure out how to keep one bloody chemical in its primary structure. What I need to do is to repress it to its primary structure and keep it that way. Eventually the body will break it down. When it goes into its tertiary form, it becomes active, and starts affecting the cells. Something about the hemophetamines does just this, but I need a permanent fix because if the man isn’t a vampire of my line, the hemophetamines just won’t survive.

She pursed her lips, breathed in deeply, and took out the slide. She put her own blood on a new slide and looked at it under a microscope. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before. When destroying cells, hemophetamines send out small receptors that travel through the blood stream with them. These receptors seek out foreign bodies and destroy them. It could be that those receptors are also what caused the chemicals to become inactive. And now…I forgot their fucking formula. It’s been so long since I’ve studied my own blood. She racked her brain trying to remember. The only way to get an answer is to keep those receptors alive, even though they die with the host hemophetamine. Hemophetamines also release C9H10NO3 in the form of the optical isomer of tyrosine. This is used to communicate back and forth. If I can keep that in the blood then I can keep the receptors around without the hemophetamine connection. The only option would be synthetically producing such a substance, since I can’t take it from my own blood. There was no way in hell she could do it. She walked to the back of the lab and rummaged through the excessive number of chemicals. She couldn’t find anything with the formula. Then, she came upon a bottle.

“4-Methylbenzylcarbamate,” she said softly. It had one less oxygen than the optical isomer of tyrosine, but she wondered if it would be good enough. [i]If Mathias had been trying this out before, he was on the right track, he just needed the receptors that were in my blood. She thought silently, and went over to the microscope and made a new slide. She added the 4-Methylbenzylcarbamate with her blood. She couldn’t tell if the receptors were there, for they were too small. She would have to test it out. She added a drop of his blood, and nothing happened. The chemical was still in its tertiary form. “Fuck,” she muttered, and threw the slide on the floor. The glass shattered.

She walked over to the large amounts of chemicals and started looking again. Either the receptors weren’t the key or the 4-Methylbenzylcarbamate was wrong. Perhaps that third oxygen was needed. She grasped a bottle of N-Carbethoxy-4-piperidinol. First of all, it was an optical isomer. Secondly, only one carbon and two hydrogen were missing. The receptors could easily mistake it for a tyrosine isomer. She fixed a new slide, working faster than before, and repeated the process. She then took a deep, unneeded breath, knowing that internally her cells were keeping the chemical well at bay. It would be useless on her. She added a drop of his blood after the hemophetamines were destroyed. She waited several seconds, and nothing happened. She gave it more time. And more. She cursed.

Then, the alien chemicals receded into their primary form, and began to break down after a minute’s time into harmless components. Mathias, I got it! She exclaimed, and locked the capped vial of the chemical in the metal box as he had said. She took four syringes of her blood and added the N-Carbethoxy-4-piperidinol to each of the vials. After several minutes all the hemophetamines would be dead, and the receptors could do their work along with the N-Carbethoxy-4-piperidinol. She grasped the four syringes. She looked at the doors, and then the electronic panel. She felt fire raging in her. It was primal. MATHIAS! she screamed at him. Her connection with him was solid. She would make herself be heard clearly. By will, she searched him out, pulling him back into full consciousness, albeit in severe pain. Open this door, or we both die.

Mathias heard the words form in his head, at first incoherent blurs, but after moments of trying to process them, he managed to figure it out. "Open the door," was all he could process. He laid on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only five minutes. His mind became alive again, his heart beat again, and his lungs took in a fresh breath of invigorating air. He gasped and looked around him, the area a blur of steely grey colors that slowly took shape. Letting out an airy groan, he fought against a persistent pain that originated from his lungs to the access key.

Placing his hand on the smooth black plate, typing in the code, he simultaneously let the scanner read his hand and retina. After typing in another code, he let himself collapse, nearly falling down the flight of stairs in the process. The countdown began and after five seconds, the doors whished open with a menacing hiss.

Unable to get back on his feet, he felt a wave of fear rise over him. There was no way to close the doors without his command. "Help.....Charmaine.....the doors....." was all his mind could get out in its desperate state.

He needed to get back to the access key. He needed to type in the codes, let the scanner read his identity, and seal those damn doors for good before he killed everyone inside the mansion. Gasping from the searing pain in his lungs and the weakness in his body, he reached out to Charmaine, hoping that she would be able to understand him.

Charmaine was outside, by his side and supporting him as if she had never been inside. The second the door started to open she was through them, syringes in one hand Mathias in the other, supporting him at the screen. “Type in the code,” she said before she had even reached his side. She gave him all of her strength, still clutching the vials, still supporting him. She felt dizzy. She needed to feed after having lost so much blood to the four syringes and giving Mathias her blood. She wondered silently if one of these vials would be enough for him. She knew, in her heart, it would not be. Maybe for Dante, but not for him.

The doors rushed open again and Mathias felt as if his life was being lifted to some paradise, the rising sensation, the feeling of being uplifted consumming him. It came to an end quickly though, when he realized that he was not in some heaven or other worldly paradise, but rather in hell.

The cold blackness overtook him, his head felt light, his body weak. It took a few moments for him to regain himself, only to find that he was hunched over the access key with the scanner having already read his prints and retina. It persistently prompted him for the code before it would lock itself down. The keys blurred, the scanner blurred, and if it was not for Charmaine holding him, he would have found himself back on the ground. Mechanically typing, he hit a code, a misprint of what he was supposed to type. Not recognizing the code, the system shut down by default, sealing those doors in a loud rushing hiss.

"Access denied. Goodbye," the ominious voice sounded as the scanner's lights immediately shut off.

Mathias half grinned at this thought. The back-up worked just as good, he thought as Charmaine continued to support him. In her arms he felt comfortable and even though she was barely holding onto him, he felt at home there. Resting his head against her shoulder, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to embrace her presence.

"Charmaine.....thank you....."

But after a moment, when his senses began to return fully, he noticed something different about her. "Charmaine? You.....something.....is everything alright?"

“I gave a lot of blood,” she whispered softly. “I need to feed…” She supported him; nearly dragging him back the way they had came. She would never forget. It was intuitive to her to memorize her steps. In her free hand she clutched the vials. “I formulated a vaccine. There is enough for Dante, but only half as much for you.” There was a long moment of silence as they neared closer to the others. “As I said; its your choice. Personally, if you want to remain as you are and live, then I’ll administer you the vials. Dante will die. If you want him to live I will give him the vaccine, and you will die. There is one other option, however. I will give him the vaccine, and you will die, as I drink your blood. The last threads of life will slip away from you, and from that death I will bring you back, but you won’t be what you were before, you would be like me. Consider if you would ever want to be a monster like me…” she let out a half laugh that was bitter.

“You’d feed off of the living. We could go back to my nation and there is an ample supply in my kingdom, especially for the empress,” there was another pause. She wasn’t used to calling herself an empress. “I can’t save you both, Mathias. Do you want to die tonight?”

"Charmaine........" his mind pleaded, wishing she could see herself as the person he had fallen in love with.....a beautiful woman who suffered much in her life.

His mind raced through the decision he would have to make now. He loved Charmaine. Did he love The Reich? Did he love his home? He loved Dante like a brother before the war. But what about now?

The cold blade cut into his throat, sliding with ease across his neck, the warm blood trickling down his neck. It cut deeper, hitting resistance along the way, roughly cutting, savagely ripping at his throat no longer with ease. The blood poured from the gaping wound, soaking his uniform, the fabric sticking to his chest. He could no longer breathe, sick ghastly sounds of gurgling blood being expelled from his throat as the blood filled his lungs. He felt his body go weak in Dante's arms....felt Dante release his body as he crashed with a heavy thud onto the ground....saw those dark raging pits of an inferno staring at him, burning into his soul. He watched Dante toss the knife at his fallen friend's body, those dark eyes staring into him without remorse. With blood stained hands and a splurt of blood running up Dante's face, those white teeth glimmering behind it all, Dante's grinning face turned from him as he walked away without a care in the world. Dante's laughter ringing in Mathias's head the entire time.


Summoning his energy, he pulled himself from Charmaine's grip, throwing his arms in front of him to distance himself. Too weak though, he stumbled onto the ground, his body thudding like it had so long ago when he was left to die. He should have died then, not now, not so many years later and after so much needless suffering. His life served no purpose since he lost his voice. But then there was Charmaine. She came into his life, swept in, charmed him, warmed his hardened heart, took away his pain, if only momentarily, and all for a feeling he could not wrap words around.

Words failed him. The tears burned his eyes and he covered his head, shielding himself from whoever would see him in this state of despair. He wanted to scream out, curse the world, yell at the top of his lungs to an existent or nonexistent higher being....curse something....blame something for his fate.

He learned at that very moment that love was not as easy as anyone had ever made it sound to be. And what was one supposed to do when different types of love conflicted?

He loved Charmaine. He knew in his heart he wanted to spend eternity with her. It was right there, it was so easy, but why then couldn't he commit to the woman he loved.

Duty. Loyalty. The Reich. Der Fuhrer.

They were not words to him....they were not ideals....they were him. Could he make the decision between everything that made him who he was and the person he loved the most? Would he be who she loved if he left behind all that he was?

"I love her....." he cried to himself, as if saying the words would bring an instant solution to this problem.

He wanted Dante to live. He wanted Dante to die. He wanted Dante to suffer. He wanted to see his best friend happy. He wanted to live, to serve The Reich, to fulfill his duties. He wanted the war to end. He wanted to see Stadt des Meeres shine once again. He wanted to die. He wanted to stop suffering, feeling this unbearable pain. He wanted to be with the person he loved. He wanted the polar opposites in one happy medium that he knew he could not find.


Lost in his train of thought, he did not hear the barely audible footsteps come from behind Charmaine. He did not hear the voice that followed. Lost in his own world, he was oblivious of a third party interference.

"He is The Reich," her voice took shape over the disparaging scene Mathias had created. Der Fuhrer leaned against the wall, watching Charmaine and Mathias. Standing up from the wall, she moved closer to Charmaine. "I did not mean to stalk you two but when I heard his laboratory had been opened, I needed to investigate myself, enough to have neglected other imperative Reich matters," Der Fuhrer spoke calmly and slowly, the voice of a trained diplomat, an assailant moments before pulling the trigger.

Her eyes still shielded by the reflective shades, she slowly removed them, sliding them into the top of her shirt. Charmaine, Mathias's lover, at least deserved that. Her dark brown eyes locked onto Charmaine's, holding them with a deep sense of loss behind them. They were not cold and unforgiving; they were wounded, hurt, the deaths of millions behind them.

Charmaine straightened as Der Fuhrer came into the room. This woman was not intimidating, but she sensed an air about her. She could tell from the start that Mathias and she had a past, but she was unsure of the extent of that past. “Yes, his laboratory doors were opened twice and closed twice.” She flashed the syringes in her hand. “I made a vaccine.” Her glare was a bit prideful that she had made it, but if it wasn’t for Mathias’ progress, she would have never had gotten there. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t the same as his, for this had receptors of her own blood in it. That materia was not something that was packaged in local pharmaceutical companies. She felt a wave of dizziness come over, and her eyes started to pool into a crimson color, she looked away from Der Fuhrer, and turned her back towards her, Mathias on the ground at her side. She was resisting temptation. She squeezed her free hand tightly so that her nails dug into her skin to distract her from this wave of hunger. Once it passed, it would be over.

“He is not the Reich. The Reich is a concept, a power, but it is not a person. One person is not the Reich, for it takes many people to grow into what it has become,” she paused. "His name is Mathias, not the Reich." She knew that Der Fuhrer knew what his name was, or perhaps it was forgotten on such a big weight placed on Mathias' shoulders. She then turned her head, her white hair following the motion of her body as she turned back around to Der Fuhrer; her eyes now their normal lavender. “You can get back to the more pressing matters of the Reich, if you wish. The laboratory is quite fine.” She rolled the syringes around in her hand.

“I need to know, Mathias. I need to know if you want. I don’t want what I want to influence your decision. The first for you to make, who lives and goes back to a normal life?”

Der Fuhrer continued to stare into Charmaine's eyes, the lavender reminding her of the last spring The Dictatorship had experience; laughing children, pastel colors, bright sunshine, and a hint of lavender in the air.

"I should have been more specific. Mathias is the Code of the Reich. All that The Reich stands for is in the ideals he himself created. The Reich has taken shape and formed around his very being. When he was happy, we were happy. When he suffered, we suffered. When he was sad, the sun went away. Mathias is in essence The Reich. It is not a burden he has to carry, it is a reality he formed. Good or bad, we are what we are because of him. I doubt he carries the emotional weight of that knowledge well or even if he has realized that he is the soul of this region, but I do know that his heart stops for a second every time The Reich loses a part of itself. I know that he took five bullets just to defend a damn door for an ideal he believed in, that he watched in pain as he was betrayed that day, a day that the final hopes of The Reich were crushed. You may not understand it or see it as we do, but Mathias is in a very real sense to us, The Reich and everything it stands for."

Der Fuhrer paused, taking a deep breath to steady the rising feeling inside her. She caught a glimmer of Charmaine's lavender eyes before she felt a stinging pain inside her consume her heart and wrap around it. Taking a wincing breath, she held it, refocused, and tried to keep eye contact with Charmaine.

"Mathias is....he is very important to me. I trust you realize this," she stared into Charmaines eyes, the secrets of their past beginning to surface in her eyes.....years of pain, happiness, laughter, and tears beginning to play in the depths of brown.

Genocide did not look into the eyes of the nurse, she carefully kept her gaze on the floor. The fact that she had landed back in the medical facility upset her even more. She was confused and lost and had no idea why no one was hugging her or asking her if she wanted cookies and milk. She remembered that guard then, those strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her, loving her. She had forgotten what love had felt like, but in that moment a hint of suppressed memories floundered upward in her mind.

The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, her favorite. A loving hug, a kiss on the cheek when being tucked into bed, arms wrapped around her rocking her to sleep. And that face....despite being grainy and blurred....the white hair framing those pink cheeks and happy smile.

She could not restrain her emotions, and untrained skill she had not had the chance to master. Although able to please her master, she could not fight this wave of emotions. Tears streaking down her face, she began to sob, "I want gram-mama." Between the sobs, she cried out, "Teddy....." hoping her bear would hear her and somehow make its way to her.

And those darks doors emerged in her mind, rising far above her, those screaming children….reaching out, pleading, begging. If she had been older, it would have clicked in her mind, the mystery and meaning, the puzzle....solved. Instead, the images blurred behind the image of that blood covered door, behind the cold rage burning in those black eyes.

"Teddy?" she whispered before collapsing to the floor, fainting from the emotional overload.

“He took five bullets for a door, I took twelve for him,” she said, clearly noting the tears in her eyes. She was getting a little peeved at Der Fuhrer, not because of the past between them, but because of the fact that she thought the Reich would crumble without Mathias. “Letting everyone depend on one person is not fair to that person, and neither is letting the weight of the Reich fall solely on his shoulders. He might be a large part of it, but it is not his responsibility. People need support,” she said, lifting Mathias off the ground, the strength apparent in her fluid movement. Her fangs rested on her lower lip as she parted her mouth to speak. “My nation formed around Miss Ravelyn Shentavo. I know what you say when you speak of putting someone at the center of something so large. The empress did not simply deal with politics, she hated them. She defended her nation with hellfire and sword.” She paused for a minute and switched the topic as she noticed the tears in her eyes.

“But I’m just a dead girl, I do not breath, I do not change, I do not fade,” She was walking toward Der Fuhrer. “But I love him, and I have created the vaccine to complete this man’s dying request to me. I can hear him speak, Der Fuhrer. Since I met him, he and I have been able to communicate silently through thoughts just because I am dead. Just because I do not breath, I do not change, I do not fade. Because of the vampire I am, I am the first and only person to hear his words not scribbled on a piece of paper. You might have loved him, you still might now, but I am the only one in the time since I’ve been here that has actually listened to him, and has actually given my wellbeing over his.” Her crimson eyes flashed. She was damn hungry.

“Show me to Dante.”

The pain persisted in Der Fuhrer's chest, clenching her heart tightly, making each breath she took even more painful then the previous one. She looked into Charmaine's eyes watching them flash crimson from the soothing lavender they were before. Had the issue not revolved around Mathias, Der Fuhrer would have resigned to the pain and let it take its course, but not now, not when she had more to say.

All she wanted was Charmaine to see how important Mathias was, not to her region, not to her people, but to her. Mathias was important to Der Fuhrer; Der Fuhrer was The Reich, everyone had known that. But she simply could not say those words; she could not utter the words out loud. Silently, she lived with her feelings, allowing them to brew inside her. She could never reveal the depths of their secrets to anyone, not even Charmaine. Disguised behind metaphors, she had tried to get her message out, but it had failed, just as she should have predicted.

"You fool; you do not realize what I am saying. You speak of one person shouldering this region, that one person was and always has been myself. You are taking away my crutch. Mathias had supported me for many years. If it was not for me preventing him from shooting himself right before you came, you would have never fallen in love with him. I know Mathias just as well as you do. Even if I cannot hear him anymore, his eyes tell all his thoughts. You can look into them and know what he is thinking, feeling, wanting. Isn't that enough? I will never be like you, but I do not appreciate my relationship with him being scoffed at as if it were nothing. Mathias was my life. I just wanted you to realize that," Der Fuhrer blurt out uncontrollably, as if she could not contain herself any longer, wanting Charmaine only to know what she felt at this moment.

Taking a deep breath to regain herself, the pain clenched her heart even tighter, she struggled now to even breathe. "I love Mathias. He is my brother. I am not very good at this; I have not done this before, but take care of him Charmaine. I know you are good for him.....I know you will take care of him. I wish you two the best. You make him happy," Der Fuhrer said, her eyes finally leaving Charmaine's gaze, catching the floor.

Her heart ached, the pain tightly clenching her heart relentlessly. She tried to breathe, but found that breathing only made it worse. Turning away, she grasped at the wall for support, trying not to show weakness although she knew it was more then evident.

“Right now it’s not about you,” Charmaine said coldly. “Right now it’s about him, about Dante, and the decision Mathias has to make. I appreciate the fact that you care for him, but what you are doing right now is nurturing your own emotions and not helping me with him. If I let emotions get in the way of trying to help then I would not be holding these vials. Later we can deal with all of his, right now, I want him to recover, but I can’t do that without an instruction from him. Where is Dante?” Her face was expressionless, but inside those crimson eyes was a sea of emotion she was masterfully holding back. Work now, tears later. She had been trained to do her job efficiently without emotions getting in the way. Right now, it was getting an answer from Mathias, acting accordingly, and reacting later.

Der Fuhrer turned back to face Charmaine, still holding onto the wall for support, she would have laughed thinking Charmaine was joking, but the look in Charmaine's eyes was far too serious.

The words stuck in her throat momentarily. She took a hard gulp, forcing down the nothingness that seemed to take its place. Looking down, clenching her jaw tightly, she took a deep through her nose releasing it slowly to stifle the anger burning inside her. "I am afraid you are too late. Dante was brought into this mansion dead," she replied stiffly as if she were a machine; she would have spoken with empathy toward Charmaine's hard work if it was not for the burning rage dwelling inside, triggered by the thought that Dante was practically killed by his own daughter.

Closing the doors to her past, closing the doors to her emotions, the same professional stare took over. "I would not have wasted time if I knew it could not be afforded. You of all people should know this. Diplomat, ambassador, ruler, we all have something alike, a sense of urgency and knowledge of important matters. Take care of Mathias, he looks like he needs it more," Der Fuhrer's cold authoritative voice formed the words, the toll of substantial abuse removing her mind from her body.

She donned the reflective shades once more, a sense of retaliation filling her. It ceased though when she took one step away from Mathias and Charmaine and felt the clenching around her heart tighten, her bones ache. She quietly cried out in pain, trying her hardest to take another step. The pain surged, blinding her, forcing her to loose her coordination. She grasped at the wall futilely, falling to the ground face first. Hitting hard, her hands unable to move fast enough from the blinding pain cursing through her body, she took a deep breath and felt, once again, hopeless.


Pulling himself from his mind, he was not conscious to the preceding events around him. He was in Charmaine's arms again, wet tears still streaked down his cheek, and his head felt heavier then it ever had. He could not see, his vision blurred behind the cascading battle of chemicals and fresh tears. "Charmaine....." his mind called out, "Can I finish my work here before we go? There are a few things I'd like to see done before I leave. I won't live long, I know that, but maybe I'll live long enough to see one last wish."

He tried to smile up at her, but unable to make out the features of her face, his half smile fell into a grimace. "Let's go save Dante," his mind resolved quickly, deciding his future for him.

She looked at the four syringes she held. Three would be needed to save Dante, if the man was still alive. She knew of many times when a person could seem dead but was still alive. She took one of the syringes, and injected it into his arm. It was as satisfying as my blood, and would last perhaps a bit longer, but without more of it, he would return to the state he is in now. “Yeah,” she whispered back to him. “Let’s go save Dante…” How much she wanted to say; let me save you. She wiped the tears from his eyes and headed towards Dante, supporting him. Maybe he would regain some of his own support; hers was crumbling. There was no one to feed off of; no way of supporting herself.

Still she managed to remain solid, even though inside her body was aching for a blood bath.

Carried by Charmaine, Mathias began to feel his strength return. He took a feeble step and then another, still being supported by Charmaine, until he was on two feet again. The stiffness in his joints was minimal considering the advancement of the chemical toxicity on his body.

He had no idea where to find Dante. The last real memory of Dante he had was Dante collapsing against the wall of the plane's cabin, the dark red blood ominously streaking it. General Diehl had attending to Dante, caught him before he hit the ground. He muttered something to Mathias, but they had become faded words in Mathias's memory.

Walking on his own now, Mathias searched his failing memories. He walked alongside Charmaine now, keeping his arm wrapped around her for closeness.

"I'm afraid to say, I don't know where Dante is. I don't remember what happened to him," Mathias shamefully admitted, unable to recall the details of what happened between that moment Dante collapsed in the plane and just minutes ago when he and Charmaine started to walk again.

Sensing something different about Charmaine, Mathias stopped abruptly at the bottom of the staircase. "Is everything alright?" he implored, searching Charmaine's eyes for a hint that might give away what it was that was different.

And it hit him like a brick when his eyes diverted the strewn blood across the floor of the mansion. It looked like a massacre and it was the first time he had taken notice to any of it.

"What the hell?" he asked in shock, stepping away from Charmaine to see the destruction that fell upon his beloved mansion. The onyx floor was cracked in several places while piles of a grey ashen material were strewn randomly throughout the room, piles he instantly recognized as corpses disintegrated by The Red Queen. Blood, some fresh, some old, could be found tainting every surface of the foyer. A dead body still hunched over sitting against one of the pillars, a blood stain traveling down the pillar to mark the final resting spot of this dead man. The man's bent head hid his face, but that mark, that eagle carrying a Molotov cocktail was the only visible feature beside the blood droplets that had splattered on his face. Parts of his chest and abdomen was scattered about him, parts of his intestines seeping out, and it was evident that whoever killed him wanted him dead. Bullet holes could be found in the foyer floor, in the pillars, and in walls. "What the hell?" repeated in his head, his silent cry out. He stared in disbelief at the scene before him. How had it gotten this bad? What had happened?

Looking to Charmaine, his eyes searching her's, his mind racing now with an energy it had not had in a long time, the chemical veil over his mind being lifted. "You need to drink, don't you?" Mathias wondered, continuing to search Charmaine's eyes.

“Can’t drink from the dead,” she said softly. She had collapsed to her knees, and was just getting up, eyes cast slightly ahead yet downward. “We have to keep moving. I can’t see this.” She pressed forward, and started to support him again, even though it was relatively unneeded. “What I gave you was the vaccine I created. It should buy you enough time, longer than my blood, to finish this. Three vials are needed to completely rid your body of the active phase of the chemicals. I only gave you one because I have four…and what happens to the other three is for you to decide,” she said calmly, closing her crimson eyes momentarily as she walked, still being led by Mathias. It was his decision. It could never be hers.

"I don't know where Dante i.... Charmaine? Drink from one of my guards," Mathias begged her, "Please Charmaine....don't....I can't see you this way. Please...." He turned her to face him, his eyes pleading with her, staring deeply into her eyes. "I love you Charmaine....please....I need your strength. Drink from someone, just for the moment. I need to do something....you need to drink...."

“No,” she said plainly. “It will pass soon. The durations of this bloodlust can only carry out so long before it fades and the next wave starts brewing. Right now, the only thing that will do me good is finding the man you want to find.” She did not hesitate to pull Mathias along toward where they had entered, to search from there; where she originally found him. “What gives me strength is not only blood."

Mathias shook his head, a grin playing at his lips, "We aren't even married......are you always going
to be this stubborn," he played with her, sealing it with a wink. "I need to get out of this room as much as you do so you take the left, I'll go right. I'll search the medical facility for you.....there might be too much temptation there. If you get lost in my maze, just call for me. We'll make better time if we separate. Unfortunately it is usually best to meet back in this room. See you soon," Mathias conveyed, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before turning quickly, breaking into a jog despite the subtle stiffness in his joints.

It felt good to move like this. His felt young again, even though there was some resistance to the full range of motion in his joints. As he jogged toward the medical facility, each deep breath filled him with energy, each deep breath bringing him back to life. He felt alive again. Young and alive....vibrant....hopeful. It was amazing how a life free of chronic pain could completely transform a man.

Bursting through the doors, he wasted no time in his hunt for Dante. Every bed was filled in the main room and it caused Mathias to falter and stop. It was evident where all the blood came from now; war had to have ravaged through his mansion. Half of his guards were lying on the beds, either hooked up to advanced life support or unconscious. Due to the grim scene, he assumed the other half were dead. So many people were injured severely. Few were there for other conditions. But the site of a young man, unconscious, IV's infusing into his arm caught his attention.

"Ruhumunah..... Alex?" he asked in disbelief. The son of Atticus was lying unconscious, his every heart beat being monitored, his every breath counted.

The person next to him startled him the most though, catching his eye past Alex; a man of skeletal figure with nothing more but skin and bones, sunken features, looking as if he were a terminally ill end stage cancer patient. It was his facial features that gave him away. "Lex.....impossible......" Mathias walked over to him, leaning over his bed, touching the colorless skin that composed of Lex's face. How Lex ended up here was beyond his comprehension; Lex had died in a research mission of The Reich, they lost word from his crew not even a fifth of the way into The Dictatorship.

Walking away, his mind clouded with disbelief, but he tried to force himself to continue with his search for Dante. He searched the beds, many of the people faces he had recognized. Working his way back to the more exclusive parts of the facility, he entered the trauma unit, rooms for the unstable, rooms to operate, rooms to deal with emergency situations. He searched the unstable rooms, walking into the furthest room first. It was no surprise after what he had scene to find all the doctors huddled around someone on the floor. Looking to see if perhaps it was Dante on the floor, Mathias worked his way into the ensemble to see the open eyes of someone far too close to him staring blankly back at him. C9 He stumbled back out of the room, feeling a sudden wave of nausea overcome him. He was used to death, but seeing her again, seeing C9, it was too much.

"Charmaine....." he thought about her, trying to suppress the urge to vomit; her lavender eyes that would turn crimson, her perfect hair, her smile, those fangs revealing themselves ever so slightly, seducing him into her irresistible beauty. He had loved her.

Feeling the wave past, he pushed on, the General he had once been returning for a final fight. Straightening his back and uplifting his head, he walked the remainder of the rooms, stopping before the last room. He would have to be in this room. Again, much to his surprised, he entered the room to find a half naked man dressing into a hospital gown. The man did not see him, but heard his footsteps and promptly responded to his presence.

"Some help with this piece of shit," the man's cold voice sounded without emotion, ordering the person he had not yet seen to follow his command. If Mathias had suspected anything of this man, he would have picked up that this man was used to people bending beneath him, but Mathias's mind was on more pressing issues that he failed to piece together the oddness of the situation.

Walking up to the man, he quickly tied the backs of the gowns for the man. The man turned around sharply, coming face to face with Mathias, a gun brought to Mathias's head. Their eyes met; Mathias stared into the face of death, the eyes before him colder then the deepest depths of the ocean, colder then the cruelty of death itself, darker then the deepest crevice and the darkest night. The man stared into Mathias's eyes, seeing a man who had seen more then he was willing to admit to anyone, a man with a dark past he hid so well behind his 'invulnerable' front. Mathias noticed the tattoo quickly thereafter, immediately feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through him.

"Shit," his mind cursed.

The man behind the gun simply stared apathetically at Mathias. It wasn't until they heard the steady sound of a soft dripping did Mathias advert his eyes to notice the slowly accumulating puddle of blood at this man's feet. The man did not so much as even flinch or show any concern to the fact that he was losing blood at a rate that Mathias considered somewhat moderately large.

Mathias met the face of the man, his eyes recognizing those dark features. Damon? But Damon had died, Der Fuhrer had killed him. She was forced to kill him when he turned to Dante's side and attempted to assassinate her. It looked so much like him though, so much that Mathias was beginning to question Der Fuhrer's word, but those eyes.....Damon's eyes were not this cold. But then again, hadn't Damon spent so much time being tortured by the hands of Dante? That could have changed him as the cold reality of this war had changed them all, hardening their hearts and solidifying their gazes.


Code Six could not feel the pain of his reopened wounds, soaking through the layers of gauze that was wrapped neatly around his chest and shoulder or the hospital gown he had just donned. He stepped forward, noticing his foot had a hard time implanting on a slick surface, only then had he noticed that he was bleeding rather heavily. It did not stop him though as he pressed forward, his ice cold cutting gaze locked on Mathias.

He noticed a hint of recognition in Mathias's face, an internal battle going on inside Mathias's brain. Certain that it was over his identity, Code Six briefly debated whether or not he should indulge Mathias in his little game.

"We meet again," he spoke coldly to Mathias, his apathetic voice chilling the very bones of Mathias.


And instant confirmation....Mathias extended his hand for Code Six to take. He had welcomed Code Six into this world as Damon.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, he grabbed a hold of Mathias's shoulder to support his weight as he started to walk out of the room. "I couldn't take chances. Half The Reich is trying to kill me while the other half is debating whether they should try to kill me," Code Six told Mathias, instantly bonding them as brothers 'once again.'


Unable to respond to Damon, Mathias helped him out of the room, stopping to point to his chest, giving a look of concern in his eyes. He watched as Damon turned and walked away, dripping blood with each step he took. He went to a table and returned with a pair of scissors, a small hook shaped needle, and some sturdy black thread.

Handing it to Mathias, Code Six's apathy sounded again, "Make it quick if you care so much about it. And stop giving me that look of urgency; I'm not letting anyone else touch me. I told you they want me dead."

Pressed against time, Mathias pulled him out of the room, still holding the supplies in one hand.

"No time for formalities. Why are you in such a hurry?" Code Six wondered, his professional interest returning to him. Information, it was all about information.

Outside the medical facility, Code Six seized the supplies from Mathias. Instructing Mathias to undue the gown, he had Mathias hold the gown as he began to peel away the bloodied gauze, discarding it as they walked wherever it was that Mathias was hastily working to. Re-stitching himself, Code Six worked with a skilled hand, practiced many times in his long past, as they rushed down corridors, checking rooms left and right. Finishing with the stitches, Code Six instructed Mathias to help put the gown back on as he discarded the needle and remaining thread. Holding protectively onto the blood covered scissors though, he continued to follow Mathias's lead out into the foyer.

"You never said what it is you're looking for. I can help if you'd just tell me or show me. I know you can't speak. Can you write or something? Use my blood on the wall," Code Six insisted as he watched Mathias closely, the prideful eagle and its prey.

Seeing that Charmaine was not yet there, he dipped his finger onto the outstretched hand that Damon had offered. Damon surely had become more macabre then he could remember, but then again, everyone was different to Mathias. Scrawling Dante quickly into his hand, Mathias pointed to his hand.

"Dante...." Code Six's mind repeated over and over again. It would have amused him if he had emotions, but it was just a piece of information and from what he was gathering, it was now a race to Dante.

"Why?" Code Six asked, prodding for more information as to why Dante was a sudden concern to the man that Dante had cut the throat out of.

Realizing there was no way to write all of that onto Damon's hand, a game of charades pursued. After Code Six successfully guessed that Dante was dying, Mathias struggled on how to communicate that him and Charmaine were trying to get Dante better. Feeling like a fool, Mathias began his dance around the room in desperate hope to get Damon to understand him....all the while wishing Charmaine would come back so that she could just talk to him instead.

Charmaine stalked through the mansion, trying to keep her eyes focused straight ahead of her. All this blood, all this gore, it was revolting and appealing to her at the same time. She stumbled and fell onto her hands and knees, her lips aching to brush against one of their necks. So many dead bodies; so much dead blood. She could not, however take blood from the dead without suffering the consequences. She looked at the ground and the small pool of blood which seemed to be fresh. She slowly bent her head, and lost all sense of reason. She began to lap the crimson liquid up into her mouth like a cat; hungrily. When she realized what she was doing, she jumped back and wiped her mouth, then proceeded to rummage through the pile of corpses strewn about the area, smelling all the blood mixed together it was hard to differentiate between one persons and another’s.

She opened up the door to his bedroom, where they had spent so little time together, but the time they had was precious. Then; she saw him. She lifted his body, and began to bring him in the direction of where Mathias went, however, she couldn’t help but want to drain him dry. This man was still living, even if they could not sense it, she could. And because he was living, she wanted to kill him. As she walked she was torn between her bloodlust and her desire to help the one man she ever loved. She sometimes stopped, even though she knew there was not enough time. She carried the syringes at her hip, and injected one into his arm. Either Mathias lived, or Dante did…and those other two vials went to whomever Mathias chose. She had a haunting feeling that he would choose Dante, and would not request to be brought back as one of her kind. How could she expect him to? Who would want to be like her?

When she opened the door she saw Mathias with another man in the foyer, she held Dante across her back and lowered him to the floor; her eyes still red. "Your bedroom is housing bodies," she whispered quietly. "I found him there."

Mathias, in the motion of trying to act out ‘saving,’ felt a flush of red as he heard Charmaine’s voice. He had wanted her to come, but she had caught him off guard in his game of charades. He looked up to her, only able to see her face from her position on the second floor. He was grateful she was there, but the words that came out of her mouth caused a sudden chill to run up his spine.

“What the hell is wrong with these people?” he asked Charmaine silently, wondering why they had destroyed his home and turned it into a twisted demented morgue for their own pleasure. This used to be his home and now he felt as if he was the only one who did not belong in here. A building designed entirely by his own hands, built to fulfill his needs and desires, erected for his own comfort….and now he was walking up a staircase that seemed alien even though he had constructed it.

He wanted to reach out to Charmaine, but the sight of Dante’s body on the ground stopped him. He knew that death that Dante had faced, that embodied death where you were trapped inside your paralyzed lifeless body, only able to vaguely hear the events around you. He knelt beside Dante, taking notice to the two syringes left in Charmaine’s hand. It was his decision to make now. “Save him,” he nodded to Charmaine, looking into her eyes while still kneeling.

Code Six joined their sides, wondering what it was these two people were doing. By Mathias’s side, the bloody scissors still in hand, he looked down on Dante’s body. “Why are we trying to save his life?” he asked, continuing to look down, responding as he was expected to.

Mathias shook his head, ignoring the response he could not make, waiting for Charmaine to inject him. He wanted to save Dante’s life; that was what was most important to The Reich at that moment…Dante’s life.

With those words she knelt down by Dante’s side and readied the first syringe. She closed her eyes as she injected him with the vaccine, tears rolling down her face, but no sobs coming. She took the second one, her hands shaking, and injected him with the second vile. Now; he had three doses of the vaccine, enough to stop the chemical war within him, but Dante having the three doses also meant something else. She looked up to Mathias with tears streaming down her face. The empty syringe fell out of her hand.

Mathias stared into Charmaine’s tear filled eyes, reaching out and wiping the tears from her face with his thumb. “What is it Charmaine?” his mind inquired as he searched her eyes again for an answer.

Code Six, noted for his grace and compassion, stared at both of them before interrupting their moment. His cold apathetic voice sounded once again, “As much I want to see you two kiss and make up, save it.” Bored by Mathias’s display of affection, he began to spin the bloodied scissors around his finger, staring at them both with vague interest. “Don’t we have something more important to do?”

“I told you, Mathias. I don’t have enough of the vaccine for both of you,” she whispered quietly, then her eyes averted toward the pair of bloodied scissors that were being twirled around Code six’s finger. “Stop that…” she said, almost inaudibly, and her eyes darkened, and she parted her lips, showing her fangs and looked straight into his eyes. Hers were animalistic; deadly. They were the eyes of a killer. She breathed in deeply, and counted the number of times his heart beat, then she cleared her thoughts and turned her attention back to Mathias, torn once again between bloodlust and the situation at hand. The hunger pains were getting worse.

Noticing the darkening of Charmaine's eyes, the sudden foreboding exposure of her fangs, her demands to stop, Code Six was satisfied with Charmaine’s response. He continued the scissor twirling for a moment before he slowed down, causing the scissors to fly off into the air. Quickly responding, he caught them and held them protectively once again, unwilling to let go of them.

Almost wanting to antagonize Charmaine, provoke her to attack, Code Six resigned this game of his for the moment. Information was far more important, befriending Mathias and Charmaine would place him in a better position to obtain that desired information then testing the patience and responses Charmaine had to his pushing and prodding.

"Well what are we waiting for? You saved him didn’t you? Now what?” Code Six persisted, coldly staring at them both.

Mathias neglected Damon’s remarks again. With Charmaine before him, he could not be concerned with Damon. Pulling her into an embrace, he tried to take away her sadness, knowing that he probably could not. “Charmaine…..I’m not going to leave you. If I die before I complete what I have to, take my blood. I don’t want to leave you….”

“I don’t want to feed off of you Mathias; I want to be with you. That chance I had, to give you the vaccine, I should have taken it. Even if you would hate me, I should have given it to you…” she broke away from him, caught up in her hunger. “Get away from me…” she growled. She had given him a lot of blood; but hadn’t gotten any. She would not take away what life he had left, but she eyed Damon, and she straightened, her eyes deepening to the deep scarlet. It seemed that the irises were swirling with the color. “Do what you have to do Mathias. I don’t know what the hell you need to do but finish it…” she said to him. Dante was more important than being with her; for if it was the other way around, he would have let her given the other to. What happens to a vampire when they run out of blood? They do not die…but they become corpses, and waste away like one until the skin is tight on the bones. By that point they can’t feed, and need a blood bath to be revitalized.

How could she ever expect him to come into her world when it was different from everything he knew? He said that he wanted to stay with her, even in front of Der Fuhrer, yet right now it didn’t seem like it, and she was too deep in her bloodlust to become any closer to him than she already was. She sunk down against the wall, and heard Mathias start walking forward. “Don’t come near me,” she told him. “Just go. Finish what you started.”

Mathias could not push her. What she wanted was for him to go, and he could not find it within him to fight against her right now. She wanted him gone; he had hurt the person he loved the most. He tried to come closer, but she pushed him farther away. “Don’t come near me. Just go. Finish what you started.” The words stung him, biting painfully at his heart. He stood in the room dumbly, debating what to do. At times like this, he usually retreated to the study in his room, but he could not bring himself to walk past Charmaine to get there. He looked from her to the door and back to her. His eyes then fell upon Dante; Dante did not move, he did not show any visible signs of life yet. He failed…..failed to save Dante….failed in his love for Charmaine.

Turning away from them all, the only thing he could do at this moment, he tucked his tail and proceeded to walk away defeated.


It was the perfect opportunity for Code Six to jam those scissors into the back of Mathias’s skull right below the base of it, if not killing the man with a single well placed stab, paralyzing him, making his life useless. Mathias had earned his freedom though, Code Six reminded the assassin within him as he twisted and turned the pair of scissors impatiently in his hand. Deciding now would be the most opportune time to depart from the scene, he reached down and lifted Dante, carrying him as one carries a child to bed. “I’ll take him to the medical facility,” Code Six spoke to whoever cared to know what he was doing. If Dante was alive, he would be treated there, if he was dead, they would pronounce him dead and dispose of the body as desired.

Following ten feet behind Mathias, he walked slowly while carrying Dante, this full grown man whose dead weight was heavier then he was used to from his past year in The Dictatorship. Getting Dante away from the both of them seemed best at that moment.


Mathias walked outside the mansion, the brisk air brushing his face. It was midday, the sun slowly beginning to descend from the sky. It shone brightly, a brightness Mathias was not accustomed to. He shielded his eyes and mechanically walked a path he had done in the past several times. He wound through the back of the mansion and worked his way through a heavily wooded area there. After a few hours, he found his shoes planting itself on the black sands of the most exclusive parts of The Reich. He took a deep breath, the salty air filling his lungs. He had not been here in this state of health for longer then he could remember. He followed the length of the beach, surprised that no bodies could be found here.

Removing his clothing, he threw them onto the ground in a pile. He would have felt liberated, as he had felt as a child, feeling the air rush against his naked body. But those days were long over. Liberation was no more then a lost ideal, an impossible dream that one would fathom of. He walked to the water’s edge, the sand so soft, sinking between his toes. This was the only place that had appeared to remain the same in his memory. Stepping into the water, he pulled his foot back. The water was frigid and he had remembered that the waters were no longer warm as they always had been before the war. “The war even affected the ocean…” Mathias thought as he plunged forth, regardless, running into the water and diving deep beneath its salty lapping waves. He felt the cold sting and bite at his skin just as Charmaine’s words bit at his heart, and oddly beneath the waters surface he felt at home. The coldness took the breath from his lungs and he was forced to emerge for more air. Resurfacing, the sun shining brightly in the sky, he looked about him, the waters reaching out, protectively hidden in this indwelling. Swimming out deeper, he treaded the small swells, bobbing up and down, feeling the cold rush through his veins. It was a comfort to him. Taking another deep breath, he submerged himself again, swimming down as far as he could go on a breath, trying to touch the bottom as he had done so many times as a child. His hand grasped the surface and he closed his hand around the sand, a prize to bring to the surface as proof of his efforts, but no sooner did his hand clasp the soft sand spilling through his fingers did he feel something grab it. He felt the fingers wrap around his wrist, each one pressing hard. He tried to pull it free, but it pulled him down into the depths, down deeper then the surface he had felt. He tried to implant his feet on the ground, to use all his might to pull against whatever clasped him, but he could find no ground to steady himself on. Kicking and struggling against the pulling, he felt his lungs scream for oxygen. Becoming more desperate, he dug his nails into the hand, trying to free himself as he was pulled deeper. The hand merely retaliated and dug its nails into his hand, pulling with more force then before. He opened his eyes despite the burning of the salt water and saw the face of C9 staring at him. Hissing at him, revealing a full set of long sharp menacing teeth, she released her grip.

Mathias fought his way to the surface, his lungs screaming, his eyes burning, and about twenty seconds from passing out. Breaking the surface never felt better as he took a many deep breaths, trying to revive his mind. When the sudden reminder of what just happened became his reality again, he swam quickly to shore, scrambling out of the water on hands and knees. Collapsing on the beach, he looked into the water for any sign of whatever it was that just attacked him, only to find that the waves continued lapping on as if nothing had happened.

Charmaine watched him from the shadows, wanting to step out into the sun but not having the ability to. Something had happened to her, but she would not test fate. Her eyes had returned to lavender; calm, complacent. The wave of hunger had passed, but knew the next one would come on even stronger and that she might not be able to hold back. She couldn’t go out to him, but could merely lean against the side of the building and watch; this barrier which was created between their two worlds. She could only remain as a shadow, while he could bask in the sun. She felt he didn’t realize that she wanted him to get away from her because of her hunger; because she was afraid that she was going to kill him. With all the mixed emotions she had, she probably would not have realized it until after. That was something she didn’t want. And yet, she couldn't voice the words 'i'm sorry'.

When the burning subsided, he looked at his hand. Finger nails cuts and scratch marks were the only evident signs of attack. But they were larger in size, not the nails of a woman. Pressing the fingers of his other hand meticulously against each cut, the marks matched. He stared in disbelief as he could match each cut made by the nails to his other hand. “Impossible….” his mind whispered silently to itself. Time passed, an hour lost, as he continued to stare at his arm. Did he do this to himself? Had he hallucinated, imaging the entire event that had just transpired? But what pulled him beneath the ground? How did he do that to himself?

When he stopped staring at his arm, the sun was setting in the distance. His skin finally warmed from the cold depths of the water, alone he watched the sun transform from yellow, to orange, to deep red as it traveled slowly across the sky, testing the waters slowly as it dipped below the horizon. His life had fallen apart. His region wanted him executed; enough to have never given a damn when he was captured by Genocide’s men. He had turned his back to his leader, to Der Fuhrer, to Hunny*Dew, to all he had ever known. He had fought against death with Dante from Mahanoy back to Stadt, only to fail at saving Dante’s life. And now, he had fallen in love with a woman who had returned that love, and even then, he failed her. If only he had pulled that trigger sooner instead of hesitating….he had accomplished nothing from living after that moment and if anything, he had created more pain and suffering for others. He should have drowned.

But he still loved her….Charmaine had owned his heart. When he thought about what a future with her would be like, he could not imagine anything. It was not that uncertainty that held him back. Nothing could be worse then the existence he maintained now. It was relinquishing the past that held him back. He wanted to make amends, prove to himself he was not worthless. Der Fuhrer had never given up on him, so why did he give up on himself? Most of all, he wanted to watch the sun rise one last time. Giving up sunlight he had voluntarily done many years ago, but now that it would be permanent, he wanted it. He wanted to experience the warm of the sun on his skin, the sparkle of the ocean in the blinding light, the fading rays of light on his face, the hue of colors painting the skies, and finally the rebirth of the cycle. He had not appreciated its beauty fully until that moment. Alone, away from everyone, he dropped his façade and let the tears fall. He cried and continued to cry; he felt hopeless, lost, confused. He wanted to plunge back into the ocean and die and yet he wanted to go back, find Charmaine, try to rectify his mistakes. He wanted to tell her all he wanted to see was the sunrise again, but he felt ashamed to admit that, felt it would be a stab against Charmaine to say so….moreover, he wanted to watch it with Charmaine at his side, but he knew that he was asked too much then.

He watched the sun faded beneath the horizon and felt a chill run up his bare skin. He knew that it was time to head back to the mansion before it became too cold. Finding his clothing, he put them back on, not even bothering to brush the sand off his skin or out of his hair. Looking as if he had just wrestled an alligator, he walked back to the mansion, his eyes set on the scenes around him, wondering if he would ever see them again. He wanted to sleep in his bed one last time; wanted to write his final entry in the running log of his life. He felt tired, the events of the day wearing him down, drawing out his energy, exhausting him. He would have wanted to curl up with Charmaine in his arms and sleep, but he realized that he destroyed any chance of that happening.

Letting out a deep breath, his mind replayed his past with Charmaine. It may have not been long, but it was long enough for him to know how he felt about her. She had been able to hear his thoughts, it was something that made it possible for her to know him, to know what he wanted, to know what he felt, what he thought. He did not want to give that all away, but he unconsciously done so when along the way.

With the frigid cold setting in all around him, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and hastened his speed. The woods took a long time to navigate in the cold and he worked mostly off habit then memory since the cold blinded his mind. Not properly dressed for the night, the cold continued to nip at him, sucking his life out of him with each breath he took. “It’s so cold,” his mind told himself, trying to keep him from falling over. His teeth chattered and his lips quivered beyond his control. He did not know how much further he had to go, but he knew that much longer out in this cold would result in his death as the temperature increasingly dropped with each passing minute.

He stopped walking though. He was in such a rush to get back to the mansion and for what? All he wanted to do was shoot himself when he got back? Why should he waste a bullet and another possible intervention? It would be better for himself and everyone if he just passed away in this cold; if anyone had ever found his body, it would be evident he froze to death and therefore looking less like a suicide.

Sitting down, he let the cold consume him until he no longer shivered. It drained him though and he felt tired, wanting to close his eyes an fall to sleep right there. Lying down, he curled up to try to conserve some heat. He let his heavy eyelids fall as quickly as the temperature was falling. It would be his dead bed he thought as he began to drift into that final sleep.

But her face flashed in his mind. “Charmaine…..” he called out, his mind in pain, his body in pain, his soul aching. He doubted she could hear him, but he cried out to her, wanting her love so badly, wanting her to forgive his mistakes. The tears formed in his eyes and he felt them instantly freeze as they fell from his eyes. It was too cold now and he knew he put his life in jeopardy. He wanted to live…..he wanted to be with Charmaine….he loved her….and he resolved at that moment that he would fight until there was nothing left in him to get her to see that.

Struggling to clamber to his feet, he could no longer feel them, but pressed forward regardless. He broke through the woods, the mansion looming ahead. He was too weak to make it that far. Even if he made it to that mansion, he had to move around it to get into it. Struggling, he fell at the back of the mansion, unable to stand any longer. Crawling, he felt the rubble that had broken off when Genocide bombed his mansion beneath his hands and knees. Sharp edges tore through his skin and the blood that spilled quickly froze on the rocks and his hands as he continued forward. He actually made it to the front of the mansion before completely collapsing. He reached out, grasping into the black nothingness of a Dictatorship night, as if reaching out was going to prove he tried his hardest to get back to Charmaine. “Charmaine….” his mind whispered, holding onto her memory, refusing to let that too be sucked into the subzero abyss of the night.

Due to concerns about the girl's health, the nurse and other personel spent considerable time trying to figure out what to do. There was nothing serious afflicting her body. Aside from the apparently self-inflicted finger wound, there were a few bruises. Minor injuries, comparatively. However, she clearly was not healthy, having great emotional issues. Not familiar with foreign vernacular, it took them about an hour to figure out what she was saying, at first thinking that "Teddy" was someone's name, only later learning from an anti aircraft gunner that it was a foreign term for a stuffed animal, almost always referring to a bear.

After this, it did not take long to find what they were looking for. The same nurse as before was supervising, but by this point, she had forgotten her annoyance at the girl's earlier impetuousness, and had become worried about the prisoner. What could drive a little girl to hurt herself in that fashion?

When she awoke, the girl, whose name they still did not know, would find that she had been moved from where she had collapsed on the floor to the bed, with its soft sheets. The nurse had managed to get a small stuffed bear from one of her friends, and had tucked it in with the girl, whose further injuries had of course been tended. Finding nothing better to do, the nurse simply sat and read a book while she waited for the child to awaken.

Charmaine stood on the rooftop of the mansion; what remained of the crumbled palace. Her white hair down and flowing over her shoulders. It was cold outside, but no colder than her skin. Her crimson eyes looked up to the full moon rising ahead. This was a night for the hunters. This would be one of the nights she would have performed at the Avalon. Her voice would have been heard by millions across the nation; unrecognized as Ravelyn’s daughter, but with all the benefits. Her mother had sought to protect her from the media and possible hunters. Her voice was known by the population, played so often. The voice of the nation had fallen in love with silence. If there was ever a way to repair Mathias’ speech. She knew that if he were to become one of her kind, he could speak to whomever he wanted to silently, with some practice, but she knew the answer would be no.

She would hold him in her arms and watch him die, unable to do anything about it. She would loose him forever, and yet he still needed her to be there. [i]Inside my heart is breaking, but my smile must stay on. I will have to find the will to carry on. Such a peaceful night. It would be the perfect night, like many nights, if she had someone standing beside her, looking up at the same moon. She then heard Mathias approaching, heard him struggling. She heard him call out and looked over the edge of the mansion. She dropped down and landed. Her eyes were crimson. They would not return to lavender that night until she fed. Her skin was paler than normal, and there was no hue in her cheeks. She looked like a beautiful ghost. She knelt beside him and lifted him into her arms.

“What are you doing out here.”

"Inside....I need to go inside....too cold...." his mind sputtered out as his mind blurred with images of his past, of Charmaine, of his day at the black sanded beach.

When he realized whose arms he was in, he forced opened his eyes to stare into the crimson pools. "You're here...." he struggled to smile, his frozen lips cracking in the process, "I love you."

Lifted by Charmaine, she carried him into the mansion, the cold air sucking out more and more of Mathias's life. Once inside, she laid him on the ground as she ran for the nearest blanket.

As she wrapped him up, he once again opened his eyes, his once vibrant and alive eyes now tired and exhausted, as they have been for a long time. "Thank you....for saving my life....for everything....but most of all....for loving me..... Thank you for loving me."

“Don’t thank me for loving you,” she whispered softly. “You are the one who was able to love a monster.” She bent down close to him, and kissed his lips softly. She laid down with him, close to him, wrapping one arm over him as he lay there and snuggling close to his body.

Mathias laid with her, feeling the life return to his frozen body, feeling the love of Charmaine, wrapped in her arms as he slowly began to regain the numb tingling feeling in his hands and feet. When he regained the ability to move, he wrapped his arms around her, resolving to just lay there and enjoy the moment they had. Nothing else mattered.

Looking into her eyes again, feeling the warmth finally, his fight at the beach came back to her. The cuts on his arm began to tingle as blood flowed back to them, reminding him that he had unfinished business.

Unable to control his thoughts, the words filled his head, “Will you watch the sun rise with me?” No sooner then the thoughts filled his head, did he curse himself for being so insensitive. He knew Charmaine could be in the sunlight, but it was what he had wanted, he wouldn’t want anyone else but her with him to do so. “Sorry….I didn’t mean to….I just….I’m sorry,” he silenced is racing thoughts before he would make another mistake.

"I will watch the sun rise with you," she whispered softly, then lifted him up. He could walk more on his own. She walked outside with him. "Where do you want to watch it from?" she said, not explaining, but simply going along with his request. The emotion in her eyes was undeterminable. Was she scared? Was she indifferent? Sad, happy? It was so hard to tell.

"I will watch the sun rise with you," she whispered softly, then lifted him up. He could walk more on his own. She walked outside with him. "Where do you want to watch it from?" she said, not explaining, but simply going along with his request. The emotion in her eyes was undeterminable. Was she scared? Was she indifferent? Sad, happy? It was so hard to tell.

"Charmaine, it's not safe. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask, it just came out. I love you....the sun, it will hurt you. I can't do that. Please, protect yoursef, stay inside.....I don't want to lose you," he pleaded, even though they had walked back outside.

The sky was dark, the subzero temperatures beginning to relent as the blackness began to tint light grey in the east. Mathias looked at the stars still sparkling in the sky above and watched as two bright lights sped across the horizon, a reminder that this entire region was watched ever so closely.

“I can’t afford to lose you Charmaine. I love you and you are worth more to me then my pathetic wishes. Please….the sunlight hurts you. I won’t ever forget that.” His memories briefly floundered back to their captivity in Mahanoy, a constant reminder that Charmaine's one weakness was something everyone else took for granted.

Awoken in a well lit room, Genocide rubbed her eyes repeatidly, trying to wipe the tiredness out of them. She yawned and stretched before realizing that she was not in her room. It was then that she remembered the horrific crash, the sound of the scraping metal, the fire, those mans arms around her protectively. Seeing a teddy bear aside her, she quickly picked it up and held it, sitting on the bed and curling her knees up to her chin, shaking in freight from the vivid reminder.

She was afraid; afraid of what had happened, afraid of this room, afraid of who these strange people with their silly language were. It was in the midst of her fear that she suddenly realized a woman was in the room with her. Seeing the nurse who had tended to her earlier, she felt a slight bit of comfort rise within her. At least something was consistent here, the same woman would help her when she was hurt, and that became an instant relief from that unspeakable fear dwelling inside her.

The woman was reading and although the woman probably was aware that Genocide was awake, she had kept her nose deliberately in her book, perhaps trying to scope Genocide's behavior from her peripheral vision.

Believing that the woman had not recognized that she was awake, Genocide slowly crept along the bed, trying her hardest to avoid sqeaky bed springs as she tried to sneak up on the woman. She wanted to see what the woman was doing without the woman noticing, but in her child's mind, she was far from comprehending that it was a little too obvious what she was doing.

"Awake I see," the nurse said as she looked up from her book with a smile. The girl probably thought she was being very sneaky and that amused her. Kids could be funny.

She put a bookmark in her novel and set it down before standing up and walking over. "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking at the girl's finger to see if there was further bleeding, looking back to her face when she was satisfied that there was none.

“Mathias, if you are going to die because of this chemical, there is really nothing left for me to go back to. My nation will elect an empress or emperor and that will be the end of it. They probably don’t even know where I am right now. The only thing I care about is giving you what you want. I realize that you don’t want to be a vampire, and if you do, then you are going to see that sunrise before you relinquish it for the rest of your life. Honestly Mathias, either way, it is important. I want you to be happy,” she said softly, in close enough distance to go back inside if she had to.

Caught in the act of trying to sneak up on the nurse, Genocide sat on the bed in a humph, disappointed that she didn't get as far as she wanted to.

"I'm hungry. Can I have cookies and milk? Those ones with the chocolate chips in. I like them," Genocide asked with a hopeful innocence. Terrified of this new place and these new people, she just wanted something that she had at home, something to comfort her and take the edge off the uneasy in her stomach.

Nodding to her, he would not question her decision. He merely pulled her closer and held her there, staring into her eyes, the moon behind him reflecting in the crimson of her eyes as the sun slowly began to rise behind Charmaine, the first rays spilling into his eyes. He held her close, unwilling to give up this moment, wanting to remember it for the rest of his life, no matter how long that would be now.

He smiled for her, his lips parting crookedly, revealing his teeth. It pained him to smile since he had lost his voice, but Charmaine had changed him in ways he thought impossible. He had felt love, had felt his cold heart warm again, had experienced emotional mood swings he thought only pregnant women had experienced. He knew one thing at that moment and that was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Charmaine. Whatever lay ahead of them in the future, he wanted to be aside her as they tackled it. He would take the plunge; he would dive. He knew she would catch him, help him, teach him how to live as she had.

The world he knew had betrayed him, it was time for him to move on past it. He should have been dead anyway, anything else was just prolonging the inevitable and causing more pain and suffering then was needed.

As the sun reached out, stretching lazily as it woke from its nighttime slumber, Mathias moved in closer, his lips lingering before Charmaine's lips, his breath coming out in little puffs in the frigid morning air. And as the sun emerged a little more, spilling its golden rays across the sky and the ground, approaching ever nearer to them, he closed his eyes, stealing a kiss. He held himself there, embracing that very moment, the last sunrise he would see. Opening his eyes, he stared into the Charmaine's eyes, the reflection of the moon still within them. This was the life he was accepting.

The sun rose over her shoulder and he glanced at its brightness, the light splashing his face, rushing over him and pouring into the Stadt below, exposing slowly the damage done by Genocide's bombing.

"I love you Charmaine. I'm ready to join you," he accepted his new life, as the bright sunlight shone into his eyes, the crimson in her eyes captivating him.

This was good, if the girl was ready to accept food then she was probably feeling a bit better emotionally. Cookies were probably not the healthiest thing for her, but the child's mind was in more danger than her body at this point. "Well..." the nurse said, at first making it sound like she might not. "All right. I'll go see if I can get some. Is there a kind of milk you like best?"

She was inclined to give the kid what she had asked since she had asked nicely enough, and the girl needed something in her stomach. Cookies tended to lift spirits, after all.

The sunlight singed her shoulder, but after he had said those words she was pulling him into the mansion, into the shadows. She didn’t look to see if there were others in the room. Creating a fledgling was something that was sacred. It would indeed be very intimate, as he would know everything about her life in an instant, and as she would drink his blood she would see good portions of his memories. She walked behind Mathias and wrapped one arm around him, for he would need the support. She silently wondered if it would repair all the broken tissue, even his throat, but she did not get her hopes up. She had heard of it happening before however she was not an ancient. It would not be in her power to direct the healing. Perhaps her mother could. Either way, he would be able to speak with whomever he wanted now. She slowly ran her nails down the front of his shirt, ripping the fabric easily before sliding it off his body. It was a sensual process. Charmaine herself removed her baggy shirt she had been given revealing a toned abdomen and satin restricted breasts.

She pressed his body against hers, letting him feel her cold form pressed up against his back. She let his weight fall into her arms, and brushed her lips against his neck, then kissed the hot skin, taking her time to work delicately along his shoulder. She felt his pulse beating underneath her tongue, but stopped herself. She wanted him to feel pleasure which would require her to have more concentration. She worked along his neck for which what seemed to be hours but was actually only minutes. Her grip tightened a bit as she crossed over his pulse. She brushed her fangs against his skin, and then concentrated. In seconds the razor sharp canines were thrust through his skin; piercing two clean holes in his neck before closing her lips around the wound and drinking his blood in hungry gulps. She was, indeed, hungry. The burns on her shoulder vanished as blood seeped over them and healed the wound.

Her bite was euphoric. After the sharp pain of the bite was done it gave way to droths of pleasure. She felt the waves pass through his body; the ones she was giving to him. She heard soft sighs from him, which only pushed her to intensify it. There were a few vampires who had a bite that could give immense pleasure to those bitten. The Shentavo line was one of them. Her form slid against his body as she drank the sanguine liquid down. She felt his body becoming weaker; but not in pain. She could feel his reaction as she continued to roll his senses. She was draining his blood and without realizing it he would have begged her for more. She would give him more. She drank until his heart had slowed significantly, and licked the blood from her lips. She was now supporting his weight entirely.

She rain her nail deep into her skin just at the start of her right breast and scarlet blood welled at the surface and began to seep into her bra. She slipped in front of him, while still supporting him. He leaned forward naturally, and raised herself. She was levitating off the ground to reach him. She pressed his mouth against the wound and tilted her head back. “Drink…” she whispered, and felt his lips close around the wound.