War: Der Fuhrer Dyszel read this - Page 22
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
After Mathias and Charmaine had left the mansion earlier in the day, Code Six worked his way back to the medical facility. Finding his reflective shades discarded to the side of one of the rooms, he placed them back on. Walking through the medical facility in his bloody gown, he exited the facility, heading toward the foyer of the mansion.
Speaking quietly to himself, he ran through a mental list of what needed to be done, "I need a new suit. I need help with removing the target. I also need new shoes and a weapon. Now."
Hearing Code Six's orders, Three One was awoken from a day time nap. At first, he was not sure he had heard the voice correctly, but when it repeated itself, he knew that Code Six was back in command. Stirring awake the others resting in the abandoned plane, they went to their nearby storage facility, finding the needs there.
Entering the mansion was easy; it was as desolate as The Dictatorship. Three One led the way, remaining in the shadows as he traveled to Code Six's position, who he ran into before realizing it.
"Sorry sir. I didn't expect you there. We have your things," Three One said as Code Six turned to meet the others. "Good to hear from you again."
Ripping of the gown, he threw it into the corner and began to dress. When finished, he straightened his suit and slid into his shoes, preparing to resume his role as a Reich Freedom Fighter. Taking one of his custom guns, he slid it into back of his suit pants and stepped out from the darkness.
No longer was he the Damon that they had thought he was; rather, he reassumed his role as Code Six, leader of The Reich Freedom Fighters. His cold apathetic mien took over as he stared at each of his group.
“It is time to finish this mission,” his voice chilled the air, ordering the others to follow.
Sending the others to take Dante back to the plane that they had procured for Der Fuhrer Dyszel, he went his separate way to clean up the mess that he had created. Priding himself in erasing the evidence of their presence as best as possible he started in the foyer, removing the piles of ashes and dead bodies of his fellow Freedom Fighters.
Time had passed when word that Charmaine and Mathias were entering the mansion once again. Slipping into Mathias’s bedroom, he cleaned his blood from the floors and walls. When he found the place satisfactory and all evidence erased, he left the bedroom to see that Charmaine and Mathias were no longer in the mansion. It was sunrise and he knew he would have to leave soon to ensure that no one would be aware of their intentions.
Walking down the stairs, he watched as they both hurriedly entered the mansion again, moving into a room. Following out of sheer interest in their haste, he stalked them and watched as a very intimate and passionate act ensued. Interested in their foreplay, he waited for the main event, surprised that they seemed not to even notice another man standing in the same room as them.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Unconcerned with anything outside of their moment, Mathias began to kiss Charmaine, slowly, passionately, with all the hopes and ambitions of young lovers. As Charmaine removed their clothing, he could no longer restrain himself and he kissed her fervently as if there were no tomorrow.
Her lips trembled over his neck and he knew that was she was just itching to bite down. But she reserved her bite, pulling him further into their moment, preparing him for that moment, making him want it more and more with each passing second.
By the time she had bit him, he was begging for it, wanting her to drink his blood. He had anticipated her bite to be sharp, the act of sucking the very life out of him painful perhaps, but he was surprised by how pleasurable it had actually been. She took her time with him; Mathias begging, wanting, desiring every moment of it.
Never had Mathias imagined that he would one day become a vampire, a mythical creature of the night that he had only heard stories about on the Eve of Spirits.....creatures that fed off human blood to sustain their wicked miserable lives. And now here he was, embraced in the arms of Charmaine, a vampire, drinking his blood, taking his life....and he was more then enjoying every moment of it. He wrapped his arms around her as she began to drink, but the more she drank, the weaker he had became until he lost his grip around her and fell into her arms and as she continued to drink, his life draining in this intimate act.
"I love you Charmaine," he managed through the mounting waves of pleasure surging within him, the last thought he would have as a human.
He wanted her to continue, never stop, the feeling beyond anything he had experienced. He could feel his heart slowing down; his body weaken with the escalating pleasure. That is when he had lost his memory, his mind sliding beneath the dark surface as he had done so in the black waters the day before.
She lifted his head to her, he smelled the metallic scent of her blood spilling and he instinctively drank as if it were the most natural thing to do. Images flashed in his mind; images of a past that was not his, of memories he had never experienced. It would have puzzled him, but in the moment he could not care. The blood rushed down his throat, the sanguine liquid enticing him to drink more, but before he could his heart gave out, his life ending.
The images continued to flash briefly and then all was silent; he fell into a world of darkness, coldness, nothingness. His mind did not stir, he had lost his senses, he could not even hear as he had been able to in the past. All was still....all was silent....all was gone.
This was the end of his life.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide looked at the nurse as if she were crazy. "Kinds of milk?" she asked herself, thinking the whole time that these people were very strange.
"The kind from a cow," Genocide said, with the "know-it all" attitude that five year old children seemed to maintain.
Standing up from her bed, she picked up the book that the nurse was reading and stared blankly at the unrecognizable letters and printing. "What is this about?" she asked, enthralled by her curiosity as to what this strange wording was saying. "What does it say?"
Turning the pages roughly, as children normally do, she had expected to see images of some sort, but was instantly disappointed that there was nothing more that odd writing that she could not recognize.
"I don't get it," she huffed, putting the book back down, wondering what it was about.
Charmaine dropped down from where she had been levitating, laying Mathias on the floor, her own blood trailing from his lips. The wound over her breast healed over as she bent her head to kiss his lips, tasting her own blood. She was waiting for him to awaken, when she noticed another in the room. “Can’t you give a vampire her privacy?” she questioned him before turning back toward Mathias. She was ecstatic, excited, and filled with anticipation. She slid on top of Mathias, running her hands up over his dormant muscles. “Blood of my blood,” she whispered. “Flesh of my flesh…” She kissed him once more before sitting up. “I give you new life; a life of darkness in my household.” It was what was uttered through every vampires mouth, whether as a ritual, habit, or necessity, when a new vampire was brought into this world. She waited for hi to awake.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Code Six did not respond, his cold mannerisms extending as far as the coldness of even death. In this room of dead people, he was at home, fitting in like the missing piece of a puzzle. Continuing to watch this event, he made mental note of everything that was happening; this ritual, this act, whatever it was information to him, something he needed to know, and he would not leave until whatever it was that Charmaine was doing to Mathias was over.
Feeling the kick of an inexistent heartbeat jolting him back to life, Mathias opened his eyes. He frantically scoped the room, sensations, sounds, overwhelming him. He imagined his heart racing, thudding uncontrollably in his chest, until he reached down to clench his chest and felt nothing. His chest mechanically rose and fell with each breath he took, although he no longer felt the need to have to breathe to sustain him. His heart though, it was inexistent, no pulse, no thudding, nothing.
He looked up to Charmaine his eyes wild, hearing the steady even breathing of Code Six standing in the room. "So this is what it's like to be dead?" he asked her, his mind taking in far too much for him to handle. "It's so......damn it.....could you shut him up?" he cursed, becoming irritated with Damon's breathing.
He wanted this moment to be his and Charmaine's and now Damon had come in, interrupting everything. Reaching out for Charmaine, he wanted to just rest his head on her shoulder, embrace their moment, "Why is he here?"
"Shhh..." she whispered, and held him. With her touch, the sounds became controlled. "You'll learn to control what sounds you hear and which you don't. Why don't you try asking him yourself? Like you talk to me, only directed at him. Make eyecontact if you can, and think that you actually are speaking to him. I guarentee he will hear you." She bent down and kissed him. She couldn't resist. He was one of her own now; which made her chemically even more attracted to him, if that was possible. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and licked his fangs. One of them nicked her, and small drops of blood reached his mouth as she kissed him. She smiled, nearly laughed. Oh, she hoped he would be happy as happy as he was making her right now.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Mathias felt the blood drip onto his tongue, tasting its sweetest as he perceived it to be, innately something within him desiring more. He kissed Charmaine, veraciously searching for more blood, wanting more. It was something he had never experienced before, it was a fascination that mentally he did not understand, but something within the depths of him craved it, wanted it, sought it out. He continued to kiss her, the overwhelming sounds now silenced; even with Code Six in the room, it was just Charmaine and Mathias at that moment.
Looking into her eyes, his lips curled into a grin, revealing his newly acquired set of fangs. It no longer hurt to grin, and he reveled in that thought as he leaned in for another kiss.
Catching Damon in his peripheral vision, he turned his head to him, the advice Charmaine had given him fresh in his head. It was the first time he noticed that the man was not who he thought it was. The black suit, clean and pressed, the shining black shoes, the reflective shades, the black gloved hands, the eagle with the Molotav cocktail. This man was not Damon; no, he was one of them. The memories that day in Mahanoy vividly returning; he suffered a near fatal bullet wound from that day, but he managed to kill three of them.....the only man to ever do so.
Holding eye contact despite Code Six's eyes being covered by the reflective shades, Mathias's mind reached out, "what are you doing here?"
The words formed in Code Six's mind and he turned to look behind him expecting to see Code Three standing there. When no one was there, his cold voice broke though the silence, "What do you want?"
Not receiving a satisfactory answer, he looked over to Charmaine and Mathias, slightly confused with the situation. Believing himself to be going insane and hearing voices, he stared at Mathias a bit longer before breaking the silence again, "What are you staring at?"
"You could drive him crazy with that you know," she said, still on top of him with her arms locked around him and her body pressed against his. She wanted to kiss him more; she wanted to explore his mouth, run her tongue over her fangs. There was a deeper connection which linked a sire and their fledgling. This connection was deeper than it had been before, and Charmaine found herself being drawn to him in ways like she had been with no other. It was almost as if she was in heat; and he knew it.
"Bullets like that won't be fatal to you anymore..." she whispered in his ear. "Why don't you try to stand up?" she said, unmoving, knowing full well he would be able to lift her up with him. She wanted him to discover it for himself. She wanted him to learn by experience. Besides, Code Six would be an excellent guinea pig.
Feeling better than he had in what seemed like forever, Richard temporarily escaped the grasp of Code Six simply by nature of being unimportant to him. In other words, Richard didn't try all that hard. What time wasted with that horrible man. Maybe ill finally have an inkling of a chance to choose even a fraction of my own destiny.
There wasn't much hope for that, but a man could dream, right?
Passing by a corridor on his way to find C9, Richard spotted light on in the medical wing of the mansion.. and he decided to go and investigate.
A sliver of light came from a barely open door, the bright lights on inside telling him that there was a guest staying. He cracked the door open slowly, his barely restrained curiosity only tempered by weeks of fear and self-torture.
The room seemed empty, so Richard entered to investigate further, finding, much to his surprise, Alex laying in a bed... unconscious and barely alive.
This was a monumental event... Richard felt as if he had to make up his transgressions somehow, and selfishly searching out C9 while this man lay here wasn't a good beginning.
She'll find me, he thought, and maybe she'll know something about how I can help this poor guy out.
Most of the events that occured since he came to the Reich were a little bit fuzzy, except for those with the strongest emotions attached.. so Richard remembered that he had hurt Alex, but not exactly how. This was all very vexing to him.. perhaps C9 would know the answer when he was with her again.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Lifting his head forward, he stole another kiss, wrapping his arms around her. He did as told and stood up, surprised with the fluid ease of the movement. It was as if he were weightless anymore, intrigued by his own strength and resilient movement.
"Haha!" his mind laughed, the grin spreading as he held Charmaine close to him.
He could not help but show his amazement and wonder at his new lifestyle. It was nothing like he had imaged and he wondered why he ever waited so long to stand by Charmaine's side. He smiled at her, loving her more, wanting her more. As her blood coursed through him, he felt bonded to her, more then he could have as a human.
"Thank you Charmaine. This is unlike anything I could have imagined."
Catching another glimpse of Code Six still standing there as if he had nothing better to do, Mathias grinned at Charmaine, "What should we do about him? Drive him insane?"
"Mnnn...what do we do about you," she said, jumping up into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. She laughed outloud. "Don't thank me just yet, being a vampire has a few drawbacks." She turned her head and looked at Code Six.
Do you think you are going crazy? I'm talking to you dearie... She sent him and flashed a grin. Oh, if only Code Six had not been there, they would have still been on the floor She sighed internally. Both of their bodies now called to eachother; as if she had awakened her soulmate.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Playfully biting at her, he turned his head back in the direction of Code Six while still holding Charmaine, grinning with her as she taunted Code Six. He watched every movement Code Six made, stalking his prey moments before an attack. The thrill and rush he had once experienced, the release of the caged beast, had returned in full.....the innate killer instincts brought out by his transformation.
But Charmaine calmed his wild side, keeping him level headed, for his desire to be with her was far greater then any adrenaline rush he would get from a hunt. He briefly adverted his eyes back to her, stealing a glance at her unspeakable beauty, wanting her so much right there and then, but turned back to Code Six, trying to control the raging feelings inside him.
Code Six had heard the voice speak in his head again. Although accustomed to hearing voices in his head, the voices he heard now could not be as easily identified as the others. It was as if they, Charmaine and Mathias, had independently infiltrated his mind and spoke to him.
"What do you want?" he asked them, stepping away from the wall he was prior to that moment leaning on. "I know you two are speaking to me. I am not going insane.....now what do you want?" the sheer apathy sounded, staring them both down behind those dark reflective shades. If he had known emotions, anger or fear would have probably fit the most, dominating him and controlling his proceeding actions.
Charmaine looked at Mathias. "What do you want, Mathias..." she whispered into his ear as she slid down his body and stood once again on the ground, all the while pressing against him as if he was the only person in the room. She looked at Code Six, and moved slightly foreward.
"Do you want me to kill him? Do you want to help? Do you want to kill him" she questioned, all the while moving forward toward Code Six, half naked with only thin strips of satin covering her breasts. How dangerous could she be without a weapon?
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"Let's kill him," Mathias spoke softly to Charmaine, watching her the whole time, unable to remove his eyes from her body.
Code Six realized that he was in imminent danger now. He over stayed his welcome and he would be moments from death by two dead people. Moving closer to the door as Charmaine approached him, he played his cards as any professional would under the circumstance.
"You kill me and Dante dies. He is still alive and now in our hands," Code Six coldly stated matter-of-factly. "Prepare to kill Dante," he spoke to out loud, staring at the two as if playing Chicken.
“Okay,” she whispered softly. “Go look on Dante’s neck, and I’ll bet you will see two small puncture scars from my fangs. I would have killed him a long time ago,” she growled. She was at the door before him. Ah, she would teach Mathias the effortless movements in the shadows that brought her so quickly from place to place when he got older. Age in a vampire equaled more abilities.
“You don’t have to worry about making your bite pleasureful, Mathias,” she said in a sultry manner. “Save that for later…the easiest place to bite is the neck, but as you know, blood can be taken from many sources. Go ahead…”
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Moving slowly, the complete contrast to Charmaine's movement, Mathias walked up to Code Six, who stood there unmoving, staring at them both behind his reflective shades.
"What are you waiting for?" Code Six's apathetic voice asked Mathias. Turning his neck, exposing it more fully, he continued to stare at Mathias, "You heard her. Go ahead."
Seizing Code Six, Mathias plunged his fangs into Code Six's neck, the blood trickling down. He tasted the freshness of Code Six's blood, the sanguine fluid running down his throat, seeming to jump start his heart. He felt it beat, once at first, then a second time.
"My heart....." he thought to Charmaine.....a sudden wave of fear surfacing. He was supposed to be dead, how then was his heart beating?
Sensing the fear in Mathias, Code Six grabbed Mathias's hair, bringing his knee to Mathias's groin. Mathias responded with an airy groan as he leaned forward, trying to remove his fangs from Code Six's neck despite Code Six holding them tightly there.
Dragging Mathias, fangs ripping at his neck, he walked toward the door. "Next time you attack someone you need make sure it isn't me," he said, unable to feel the pain that should have been surging through his body from the bite. "Remember, I spared your pathetic life twice now. You owed me that one."
Keeping a deadly watch over Mathias's partner, the deadlier one, Code Six watched Charmaine closely, moving into the corridor, stepping into a patch of light from a nearby window. He had to be careful with her; the slightest wrong move could end his life.
Despite his new found strength, his sudden racing heart beat, the sounds of Code Six's heart beat, the smell of his blood....it all overwhelmed him, removing his ability to fight back adequately.
The light blinded him, making it impossible to see what was going on. It was too bright out in the corridor. The sunlight fell onto his bare back, stinging burning his skin. Still struggling to remove himself from Code Six's grasp, he was drug further down the corridor into another patch of sunlight which burned and seared him causing a terrible amount of pain.
"Charmaine......help!" he pleaded, feeling the pain surmount, as if he were on fire.
Pulling away Mathias's head, the fangs sliding out of his neck, the blood running down into his new suit he held on tightly to Mathias's hair. "Pathetic," he said, almost disappointed that Mathias had not put up a better fight. "This is your protégé? Get him out of my site. I know your type. I am going to let him go now and walk out of this mansion. I will find you again and when I do we will continue this. I expect you to train him well," Code Six responded, coldly, his voice equivalent to ice.
Thrusting Mathias forward, he released his grip, Mathias crumbling onto the floor, the burning sunlight paralyzing him.
Code Six gave Charmaine a cold stare before turning as he promised and walked away. He stayed in the sunlight as much as possible, knowing that sunlight was one of their very few weaknesses. Feeling light headed, he knew that he was bleeding too much. Although Mathias had not developed into his new lifestyle, he had to admit that he had a mean bite.....one advantage to not being able to feel pain.
Charmaine blocked the sunlight from Mathias with her own body. Her skin smoked momentarily, but her stare was one of death toward Code Six…and she did not burn. The image of wings appeared on her back, extending outward as if they were real. She had just transcended from neonate to master; something that Aiden had done when he made her. She picked up Mathias, and took him out of the sun, then cut a line across her shoulder. “When you drink blood you’ll repair your skin. Now you know what it felt like for that sunlight to grace my skin…”
Her skin was red, but it hadn’t burned; not like it had before. The image of her wings disappeared. There was a long history behind the Shentavo family; and Mathias had become a part of the most recognized and powerful vampire clan known in this world. He just, didn’t know it yet. He would have to meet Ravelyn first; Charmaine’s mother. “At nightfall…let’s go back to my nation…is that all right with you?”
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Back in Charmaine's arms, he felt safe, with his lips pressed against her shoulder. "What happened?" he asked her, looking into her eyes, "My heart was beating again. How is that possible?"
Upon drinking her blood, his skin repaired itself, and it felt good for the searing to finally stop although psychologically he could still feel the pain. Resting his head on her shoulder, he looked back to all the times that she was exposed to the sun. "I'm sorry," was all he said as he closed his eyes and embraced her closeness.
"Yes.....let's go home," he agreed, continuing to rest in her arms, feeling a comfort that spread over him. He had a lot of questions to ask, but right now, he just wanted to be with her.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Reluctantly Mathias pulled himself from Charmaine, preparing to pack whatever little belongings he wanted to take with him. She took his arm, staying with him as he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom. As they entered his room, the scent of blood hung in the air, a scent that he seemed to hone in on like it was the only thing he could smell anymore.
Surprised by how vivid the scent was, he looked to Charmaine, wondering why so much had changed. He followed the scent, finding two bodies laid out on his bed, one of a very young woman he instantly recognized to be Destiny Ruhumunah. He felt the sting of disbelief burn inside; the Ruhumunah line destroyed. He wondered how Destiny had been pulled into this, she was the sweetest most passive young woman he had ever met; she was hope for The Reich, a true Ruhumunah her father would have been proud of, and now she is dead. Anger bit at his insides, nipping at the surface; he was coming to hate The Reich and what they were doing to such good people. He had watched some of the greatest people he had known die and that had infuriated him deeply, but to watch their children die....there was nothing more he could say.
Turning away, the only thing he could do anymore, he walked with Charmaine's support to his study. Rummaging through the selves of books, looking for the familiar worn book, he was not surprised to find that too was missing. His friends and their children had died, his home destroyed, and now his life invaded. Growing angrier by the second, he grabbed a single bottle of Bourbon, a few uniforms, and some casual clothing, throwing them into a duffle bag. Deciding that this was all unnecessary in his new life, he discarded the duffle bag onto the floor. Moving to the chest of drawers spanned across one of the walls, he pulled out a black chest.
"I'm ready now," he looked to Charmaine hopeful, stealing a kiss as they set off down the main staircase to their new life.
He told no one that he was leaving, assuming that the word would get to who it needed to in due time. Taking a helicopter, the night's cold no longer freezing him to the bones; he flew under Charmaine's direction, returning to Charmaine’s homeland….his new home.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nearly collapsing after exiting the mansion, Code Six pressed his weight against the door, shutting it while preventing himself from falling.
"I need help," was all he spoke out in the vast nothingness overlooking a destroyed city, wondering if Der Fuhrer would even consider rebuilding the nation now that Stadt des Meeres had fallen.
Within minutes, Three One and another were at his side, helping him stand and walk back to the plane. Once aboard, they took off down the runway and departed, their destination....Whitecastle.
With Dante secured, bond tightly, unable to move, Code Six relaxed in the seat, letting Three One tend to his ripped open neck. They had all seen a lot in their travels, but wounds like this had only meant one thing, and that was never a good sign for The Reich.
"They got Bortniansky. He has a mean bite," his cold informative voice spoke, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary. He knew the next time he saw Mathias, things would not work out in his favor; it was just luck that Charmaine had cared more about Mathias then to attack him at that moment. "That will change," he told himself as he rested his head back in the seat, staring blankly ahead behind his reflective shades. Next time they met, he knew it would be his end.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
The scarlet sun set in the distance, spilling a reddened hue of light that spread over the soot and rubble of The Dictatorship. As sanguious as the red sun's light that lay over the land, the heavy silence also filled the land. With the dying of a past storm in the distance, no other sound filled the air. It was a desolate wasteland, void of life and meaning. What had become of this once great nation now lay in ruins and rubble, destruction of a life that once filled this land.
The silence of The Dictatorship was only part of the vacated nation. Life no longer lingered in the streets and forests. No hums of idling car engines or planes filled the skies. Children's giggles and cries of play have not been heard since before the first attack on The Dictatorship so very long ago. There was nothing left in the nation with the exception of destruction and the silent lapping of waves along the desolate coast line that once permeated with life and business, the golden archways to The Dictatorship gleaming in the beautiful sunrises and sunsets.
Within the greatest mansion ever built in The Reich, Konigsreich der Mathias, the only sound was steady beeping from the medical facility and a light drip drip drip coming from the falling blood from the latest dead body. The silence was unbearable to outsiders. A land so devoid of life was almost impossible for outsiders to fathom; even more so impossible to witness and experience in person. They would expect any moment for a burst of loudness, the life to start back up, something to fall and shatter, gunshots or the roar of a plane to come by and stir up the silence, but to their disappointment, nothing ever happened. And now with The Reich Freedom Fighters and The Reich Hierarchy gone, there was no need to even be in Stadt des Meeres. It had become as desolate as the rest of the nation. The once last remaining and still active city of The Dictatorship was now reduced to the oblivion in which all else had succumbed to.
Hushed whispers broke through the silence within Konigsreich der Mathias. A patient of high rank seen in the medical facility was finally waking. Rushing footsteps summoned others to the bedside, and before it, a grand total of five people waited for the outcome of this man's arousal....a weak groan.
The man opened his eyes, evidently confused and disoriented. He brought his hand to his head, groaning more, an expression of either pain or an attempt to talk after being unconscious for so long.
Alex Ruhmunah, a man of The Reich, the son of Atticus, one of the most influential Reich members who once lived....now a rotting corpse in a foreign nation, reduced to death in an attempt to save what he most believed in, The Dictatorship.....The Reich.....Der Fuhrer Dyszel.
Groaning again, Alex weakly tried to lift his body fruitlessly. He searched his sides, reaching out in vain for something no one was able to provide him with. Resigning to his pathetic state of weakness and fatigue, Alex closed his eyes again, resolving that it was the only thing he could do at this moment.
For a moment, hope flourished in the room. With Alex awake, they had someone to look to for answers. With him gone, there was nothing but uncertainty and that silence that pervaded. Der Fuhrer Dyszel was pulled off the floor, and although a weak pulse was found, she was unresponsive and had remained that way for a great period of time. Mathias Bortniansky, the owner of Konigsreich der Mathias, the right hand man of Der Fuhrer Dyszel was also gone having gone missing with the lady Charmaine of a foreign court, the mysterious appearance of the man who went by Damon, and a group of ruthless killers who again had gone forgotten, their name and identity still protected as nothing more then mere rumors and bedtime stories to keep children in line.
For a moment.....hope flourished.
The story of The Reich.
There was another sound within the mansion.. a familiar sound to the building, as years of it had befallen the enormous facility. Footsteps fell in a dark hallway near the medical facility, echoing around its source powerfully, emphasizing the quiet around. The sound made was sharp and controlled, there was no noise of rustling as if the person was sliding their feet; it was a noise coming from the stiff backed walk of a man who knew his place... and that place wasn't that of a scullion or simpleton. The echo bounced off the walls harmlessly, slightly enhanced by the cold, stale air inside the building.
Who could this be? Someone else must have been left behind, to leave another set of unique sounds beyond the member of the legendary Ruhmunah family. The hallway's might not know the source of the noise, but Alex would find out soon enough, because the footsteps were going towards the facility, towards Alex, and towards a fate yet undecided.
A third being sat in the hallway between the footsteps and the room where Alex was located at. A stupid smile played across his face as he thought of a wonderful assassin that he had fallen in love with, wondering where she was, and wishing only to be in her company again... to hold her, and smile as he was until the fine wrinkles that were forming around his face bunched up. Richard was his name; thats right, his name was Richard, and he was suddenly very lonely.
Shadows played across the floor as everything became suddenly silent. Richard realized the feeling that a rabbit in the underbrush felt when a wolf approached, after the birds had left their roosts and the other forest animals scurried away like they knew something the poor rabbit didn't. Of course, Richard knew the feeling well, he had been an apprentice of sorts to the scourge of the known world, the man he called Damon for ease, but was known by his cohorts simply as Code Six. He smiled again realizing his newfound freedom.
He heard it first, from where the long shadow's came from, footsteps courted his hearing... down the hallway in the direction opposite from the medical facility. The shadow's changed slightly with every click of what sounded like very finely wrought shoes. Richard didn't feel any fear, oddly enough, only apprehension... and a simple resignation to the fact that running or hiding would be a waste of time. The originator of the noise and shadows knew where he was long before Richard knew of whoever made the sound.
By the confidence he heard in the even cadence of the man's footsteps, somehow he knew it was a man, Richard could tell that it was someone of high stature, high power, and likely little patience. It was a good thing that Richard had dealt with one very similar person a lot in the past weeks... or was it months?!? Only God, the Red Queen, and an organization of information gatherer's knew; but his stay felt like years and years again for all that had happened.
The slow, calculating footsteps stopped, still in shadows. All Richard could see were the man's expensive looking shoes and the bottom of his pleated pant's in the dim light that the open door next to him provided; everything else was in deep shadow.
"Hello sir, it will be wonderful meeting you," he said earnestly, "if you're looking for the owner of this place, I dont think he's here. But I am... I am," he finished, trailing off quietly.
Ok, I dont know what he wears as far as shoes or pants are concerned, will edit if needed. Ooh, and if he is ever seen smoking a cigar, tell me!
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Major General Henning von Tresckow. The last known memory of him was when he had betrayed The Reich and opened the gates to The Depths of Hell for enemies, shooting the embodiment of The Reich, Mister Mathias Bortniansky, in the process. Since then, he too was shot, left to go to trail and face public humiliation as he would have his title stripped from him.
But that was so long ago and long since the truth was revealed. His betrayal was not on The Reich. In an elaborate scheme to lure his enemies, Mister Nye into a base where a certain artificial intelligence would surely eradicate him, ending their master plan right there and then. Of course, as it goes in The Reich, nothing ever goes as planned.
He stepped out into barely lit corridor before Richard. "It is late. Night has fallen. Unless you enjoy staying up, you should get rest, you will need it. If you must stay up, make yourself useful and follow me. I have business to finish before sunrise." His voice was unlike the authoritative commands of The Upper Reich. It was not cold either. Rather, it was soft spoken and gentle, and although he made commands, it was with a voice that politely suggested others do as he says. He was a man well accustomed to a different kind of power within The Reich.....a man who did not command armies or nations, who did not see death and blood shed at every turn, and above all, a man who had not lost everyone ever dear to him.
He extended his hand which was not gloved unlike the other Reich officials. "Allow me to introduce myself if you do not know me. You probably cannot recognize me in this lighting; Mathias never cared for light much. I am Major General Henning von Tresckow, head of The Supreme Council."
After the introduction, Richard immediately liked this man, this Major General Tresckow. It was immediately obvious that he was someone of great importance and power within the Reich, and yet he didn’t have the same swagger and all-important attitude of most of the higher-ranking officials that Richard had met thus far.. borne out of years of need, and loss. Older than the younger Adyndrilite (henceforth called an Adynite), he was immediately looked at as a father figure in the younger man's eyes.
With a lot still preying on his mind, the worn out man sitting on the ground in the hallway stood up and tried to remember his best court manners, but used a battlefield flair. Instead of a subservient bow, he took the Major General’s hand and shook it firmly, but not so firmly as to indicate a need to control… just a handshake of a man who was truly glad to meet another. Knowing so little of this General’s history, Richard found it odd that he was already beginning to respect the man as much as he did his old military instructor back in his younger days.. back when his beard was a boyish, scraggly little patchy thing instead of the full-blown beard of a man.
Finally speaking, Richard found his voice a little bit cracked, grainy from lack of recent use, "Hello Major General Henning von Tresckow, its a true pleasure to meet you. My name is Richard Rahl, and I come from a relatively quiet nation known as Adyndril, a nation known little around here."
In the short pause that followed, Richard sized up the man again and made assumptions before continuing, "I would like to banter on about the weather, or perhaps ask you of the worldly news; but those frivolities can wait until a more appropriate moment in time. I must ask, what brings you here to Mathias' mansion? Ive never heard of this Supreme Council, does your visit have something to do with that business?"
The Major General was certainly not a cold man, as it seemed true of the rest of this nation: environment, people and all... in hindsight, Richard thought fairly, im positive that if I had lost so much, I would react similarly.
With that thought, they began to walk next to each other... two sets of footsteps echoing in the hallways now, one joined by the other. A relative flurry of activity had suddenly began to reawaken a small part of the Mansion.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow merely sighed, "I am afraid I have not been outside these walls longer then you have been within them. I suffered traumatic wounds during my last expedition and in the process I woke up here. I remember little of what had happened and transpired. I just know that I must complete a mission I have been entrusted with. Now let us waste no time," his gentle voice blended into the silence, becoming a whisper of wind.
Walking toward the medical facility, Tresckow pushed open the doors, spilling a blindly white light into the hall. Shielding his eyes against the light, he stepped in, momentarily waiting for the light to adjust. At the sight of him, the few over stressed staff attending to the very many patients bowed in respect to an obvious person of power within The Reich.
Stopping before a young man, who looked weak and pale, he sat aside him. "Alex, son, I need you to wake up for us now. There is much for you to do now son. I need you to wake up."
Moments of silence passed, Alex still laying there in a deathlike state.
"Alex," Tresckow pressed, "You really need to wake up son. You are needed now." Placing a hand on Alex's hand, Tresckow lightly rubbed around the intravenous line inserted in his hand.
Alex's eyes fluttered to life as an airy groan escaped him. He looked to the staff congregating around his bed, to Richard, and to Tresckow. Barely able to keep his eyes open though, the heavy eyelids closed against his will again.
"What do you have him on?" Tresckow asked, concerned now with Alex's fatigue.
"Well he has been showing signs of discomfort so we have him on several analgesics and anti-anxiety medications. He is also on a slew of cardiac medications for the heart attack he suffered and should have died from," someone spoke from the conglomerate of people there.
"Stop the medications. It is making him too weak to respond to us. I understand that he needs certain ones, but right now we need him awake. Is there anything you can give him to wake him up and give him more energy? Also, would you be so kind as to prepare any medications he needs to take for us. We will be leaving shortly and if they are going to prevent him from dying or taking another heart attack, we need them."
"Right on it sir," someone spoke, rushing into a cart kept by his bedside. Pulling out several prefilled syringes, the doctor began injecting one after the other slowly.
In a few minutes, Alex was wide awake, although still slightly disoriented. "Hey," his voice sounded weak, dry, like air over desert sand.
"Come with me Alex," Tresckow offered his hand to Alex.
Weakly Alex took it and used Tresckow's grounded weight to pull himself forward. He felt a dizzying rush to his head and nearly fell back into the bed, but was caught by Tresckow.
"Richard, right over there is a chair. Can you wheel it over here? He is going to need it."
When Richard returned with the chair, Tresckow helped Alex into the chair. Removing the blanket from his bed, he covered Alex's lap, whose head already began to droop.
"I will be right back. I am going to help them. Keep him awake. It's important we do so," Tresckow smiled to Richard, reassuring him that he was doing fine so far.
Richard continued to marvel at the simple power of this new man Tresckow, he almost seemed as if he would fit in at the courts of Adyndril... or anywhere else for that matter, such as was his grace and decorum. The ambiguous nature of his answers to the questions asked bothered Richard somewhat, but not enough to do anything other than file it away for later curiosity... Tresckow's missions were not his business. The simple comment from Tresckow to Richard about doing something right lifted Richard's heart more than the Major General could have known. Praise had been sparse in the past months, and even if he hadn't done much at all, it still warmed him inside.
He thought immediately of a way to keep Alex awake. Still full of shame about the events that had transpired over the past months, Richard nonetheless just dove into a one-way conversation with Alex while the others were preparing medication and other supplies... presumably enough to last until the small party made their way to the destination they were meant for. For once, the man from Adyndril wished that he knew a bit more of medicine and its preperations, it might give him an idea of how long Tresckow had planned on needing it... and by proxy telling him how long they would be away from another medical facility. The preperations were certainly taking long enough.
As he continued to talk to Alex, he occasionally watched the man's breathing to ensure that it was still taking place... while also watching a nearby clock... and wishing that he had some of the morphine for himself. The pains in his own body were satisfyingly excruciating at the moment, a pain that kept him humble, but he would want some relief later on. He would have to remember to grab a few high potency vials from the nearby tray when no one was looking.
Finally, it appeared that most of the preperations had been made, including his own surreptitious taking of a few vials of the analgesics that would otherwise be wasted here with no one to have need of them.
When it seemed as if all the preperations had been nearly completed, Richard made a cursory glance at Tresckow and said, "well, Alex hasn't had any change in status since being placed into this chair. He is still awake, and hopefully as ready as he'll ever be."
Feeling a sudden pang of unspecific sadness, Richard stood up once again and gathered his own meager possessions in preperation for leavetaking.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Once returned, Tresckow squatted down to Alex's eye level, his gentle voice again coming out, "We need you to stay awake now. We have a long journey before us. All you need to is stay awake, can you do so?"
Alex, with what appeared to be a great effort, lifted his head to meet Tresckow's eyes and nodded. "Yeah," was all he was able to manage, still appearing to be disoriented. "Where are we? And who are all of you?" he weakly asked, looking around at Richard and the staff, meeting Tresckow again, looking as if he knew no one.
Tresckow smiled, "My boy, we are here to help you."
Standing up again, shifting a rather black bag on his shoulder, he turned to Richard. "Thank you Richard. Let us go now. Can you wheel him out of here?"
Looking to the staff, "Thank you all as well. Take a rest, you need it. Being tired all the time is not good for either you or your patients," he offered with a gentle nod.
Placing his hand reassuringly on Richard's shoulder, they moved forward out of the facility. The doors now rushing open in a gust to allow them to exit. The lights in the corridor blinked on brightly one after the other as they departed, as if some force knew of their presence here and was making it known.
Tresckow, taking no notice to it, simply walked on past the foyer and out the doors into a cool brisk morning breeze. Reaching his free hand out toward the ocean, keeping the other gently on Richard's shoulder, maintaining a calm environment he motioned for Richard to look. "Our chariot awaits us," he simply added, a massive ship beyond anything anyone has seen sitting in coast of The Dictatorship, its many large cannons gleaming in the early morning sunrise, casting a brilliant sparkling light over the destroyed city. It appeared as if the ship were created of pure platinum, majestic in its beauty, powerful in its build.....a sheer masterpiece sailing the oceans.
From the harbor was docked several smaller boats and beyond the distance of the massive ship were also several smaller ships that evidently provided protection to this large grace and beauty.
"I believe this is called traveling in style and I hope you will enjoy this ride as you may never again have this opportunity. You can be sure that I too will be enjoying it. I must caution you though, show utmost respect to these people, as we are humbly bowing to them currently. Do well not to upset them, we are not the power holders anymore," Tresckow kindly warned Alex and Richard as they proceeded over Mathias's courtyard to several horses who were waiting with three armed men at the gates to the mansion.
"Hello my friends," Tresckow offered, now extending the hand on Richard's shoulder to them. "Thank you, you have certainly provided quite a wonderful means of transportation. You really did not have to provide us with such a service. We were fine with a boat, really."
One of the men grinned and shrugged. "Yeah man, I hear ya, but we don't make the calls. Orders were to take this ship. Pullin' out the big guns for ya guys." Looking to Alex, he suddenly stepped back, "Ah, ya don't think he can take a horse do ya? That's all we brought. Nothin' else gets over all that rubbish as good as these here horses."
Tresckow smiled, "He can ride and either Richard or I shall ride with him if you do not mind."
"Na problem sir. Let's get headin'," the man spoke, mounting his horse and preparing to lead the way.
Turning to Richard, Tresckow nodded gently, "You are doing good. Just keep calm. Would you like to ride with Alex or shall I?"
Taking everything with an appearance of being used to such things as magnificent as this ship was a difficult thing for Richard to do. He was as much in awe of this vessel as he was of the Mansion upon his first visit.
The Major General was quickly becoming a figure deserving of much respect from Richard, and he showed that by following all of Tresckow's orders to the letter, including putting on his best face for the people who were aboard the ship.
Still in awe, Richard addressed Tresckow, "Ill ride with Alex, if you dont mind. I owe this man a favor... though for the life of me, I can barely remember why."
So much was still a haze in his mind, and yet so much felt sharper. His senses took everything in, vision clear, hearing sharp, touch specific, smell invigorating. He could even taste the ocean air, it felt like the perfect place to be right at that moment. The majority of his mind felt oddly happy, despite his fuzzy memory. He had been on edge for so damned long that everything came to him more quickly, and with an aclairity that actually surprised him now that whatever he had been through seemed over... now that the edge was wearing away.
The sensation was wonderful, but with it came the pain. His entire body felt thrashed... he labored to breathe, but showed no outward sign of it. Resolve steeled itself in his mind.
Surreptitiously, he emptied one of the very many vials of morphine that he took into his leg.. a non-specific location, for he knew little of medicine.. and soon felt pain-free.
The escape will be temporary, he thought, but didn't know why he needed an escape. Something in the very bottom of his mind was screaming in agony, and the morphine took that away.
In this way, Richard was able to support Alex as Tresckow had shown him, and they rode towards the sea strider.
OOC: Ill have time tomorrow to really get into this roleplay. This post wasn't my best possible work, but I had a long 14 hour workday. Excuses, excuses... only one man I know could handle that AND still think clearly afterwards. ;)
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
If you plan on keeping your character alive, you must move them out of the nation at this very moment. With the exception of my characters, all characters who are within the mansion without permission to stay, will be eradicated with the departure of that ship.
You need to get on it to keep your character alive. Hurry, I am not waiting around.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
RP'ers, I need your copies of the RP ASAP. I am working on a Clean Copy of this role play and you all need to get me your parts as soon as you can. I did the first hundred pages.
Adyndril, you are taking from pages 101 to 230.
Callisdrun, you are taking from pages 230 to present.
Note: All documents must be done in Word, as that is what I am working with.
All documents must be titled Pages #-# and only ten RP pages per document to save both your and my computer from frying itself.
I trust you are all competent enough to at least do this. And if I do not hear word on it, I'll be setting a time limit on it, which I really do not wish to do so long as I know you are working on it.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Major General Henning von Tresckow stared out into the ocean, taking a deep breath of the fresh salty air, knowing it may be the last time he smelled the air of this part of the region. Looking over the destruction of Stadt des Meeres, a pang of loss and regret grasped tightly at his very soul, clenching and stealing the life from him in that very moment. He may have paled as his life was temporarily stolen or may have looking ill for a few seconds as the coldness gripped every muscle, vein, and nerve.
Taking another deep breath, this time, one to revive himself, Tresckow shook his head. He remembered Stadt as it once was in its beauty and glory....the legendary city of gold and silver. Those who docked at its ports, stepping onto the shores of The Dictatorship for a drink or harlot, found themselves frozen in place when they entered the arches of the city. Spread before these travelers would be a city unlike any they have ever seen, the gold archways, gilded buildings, silver light posts. Stone, wood, and steel meshing together and all casted with gold and silver. The city was worth a fortune and often travelers would try to cease their own in vain. But the sight that would have stood out the most was the massive black mansion overlooking the city, outset from the rest of this lavishly ornate beauty. There it stood, powerful in its design and structure, protective in its position, and no less important in its being. Konigsreich der Mathias had always been a landmark of Stadt; the black mansion it became to those travelers, in the tails they would tell to the world.
Tresckow turned to face Konigsreich der Mathias, taking one last look of this powerful structure. The large statues that were either symbols or decorations were now in ruins. And although the structure itself stood intact, the places the bombs had hit were clearly marked, leaving ruins of fallen rubble and soot all over the place. Looking back down to Stadt, Tresckow had a hard time imaging in its former glory, the gold covered in blackness, twisted and dented beneath the stone and steel of surrounding structures. The silver tarnished and flattened against the unbelievable power of Mahanoy's bombs.
Gently sliding his arm beneath Alex, Tresckow and Richard helped Alex onto the horse. Assisting Richard onto the horse as well, Tresckow forced a smile and kind nod. "Thank you Richard," making reference to their previous discussion, thanking him for conducting himself well in front of these soldiers then for helping Alex.
After sensing that something was troubling Tresckow, Alex quickly reached out, attempting to grab his shoulder and stop him from walking away. "Major General....." he coarsely managed, "we will rebuild....it's not over."
"I am afraid it is my son," Tresckow said, stepping away from Alex without looking at him, not to disrespect Alex, but to maintain his own composure, knowing that if he were to look into those hope filled eyes of a young boy, he would break down.
Mounting another horse, Tresckow issued a small nudge to the horse, the horse trotting up one of the soldiers there. "Sir,we are ready now."
"Is that all coming?" he asked, surprised that only three people were coming with them.
"I am afraid so sir," Tresckow offered, looking back to the mansion's closed doors.
"Let us go then," was all the man's steely voice had to say.
Keeping the horses at a steady pace, they made their way over the destruction of Stadt, making their way to the massive ship in the coast of The Dictatorship. Reaching the beach did not take long, they dismounted and boarded a small boat that would take them to the ship. Three soldiers traveled back to the mansion, just to see if any stragglers had changed their minds, taking the horses back with them.
Traveling on the boat was relaxing, as they all tried to enjoy the monotonous lapping of the waves against the boat, the easy and relaxing rocking of the boat. The ship came closer and closer, the phenomenal size even more unfathomable as they approached it. The platinum cannons the size of houses.
"Amazing ship," Tresckow said in awe of its beauty and wonder.
"Impressive it actually floats," the soldier laughed. "Created under the Empire of Dante. We have been unable to replicate his weaponry. It seems he used some sort of technology beyond our understanding."
"Indeed," Tresckow agreed, "I must certainly say Dante was beyond his time. He was a brilliant man and an equal opponent. Quite the adversary for The Reich."
"What do you think Richard?" Tresckow asked Richard, allowing him a chance to talk without feeling awkward.
OOC: There have been some trying circumstances and I'm still trying to find where I put Erzsebet. This space will be occupied with an IC post as soon as I do.
Edit: Crap, I forgot to do it in this space. Shall I delete the post?
"Never mind about the kinds of milk," she said, realizing that perhaps such wasn't something a child thought about. Figuring that whole milk would be the best for a desert item, she called the mess hall and quickly asked for the cookies and milk. The call took less than a minute. "Your cookies and milk will be here in a couple minutes."
Noticing that the girl was toying with her novel, she worried, then chuckled, realizing that the girl probably could not read runic letters. "I'm afraid this part of the book is only really meant for grown-ups," she said. "You'd probably find it a bit boring until you are older."
Thinking the best thing to do until the cookies arrived was make small talk, she asked the girl "Do you have books at your home? I had books with mostly pictures when I was your age."
It had been a most tense situation when Erzsebet had gotten a notification on her military issue OCU (Officer Communication Unit) that a chopper would be sent in to retrieve herself and Knut, as all ships' personel were needed in light of recent developments. No more had been said but it sounded urgent.
Now back on the bridge, Erzsebet read over the report. Not much point to it now, really, but she wanted to make sure she hadn't missed anything. Yesterday a massive blip had appeared on radar. At first, the operator had thought it a glitch, but it wasn't, as the light carrier had sent out a single fighter to scout, and it had promptly reported back that there was indeed no glitch, the blip was accurate. This fact was unsettling. Another scouting mission had been undertaken during the daylight hours, and the report from this one had confirmed what the admiral already knew. It was a warship and it was more massive than any other that the Callisdrunians had ever seen. Realizing its identity was both disturbing and perplexing. Why would they send such a valuable unit on a sortie without escort? It's completely vulnerable to submarines this way. Unfortunately, the submarines were all with the main battle fleet. It was just her luck that the only unit that lay in any position to pursue or intercept the giant ship was her own, First Cruiser Squadron.
What was even more strange was that, though the behemoth had passed well within range of her battle cruisers before they had gotten things together. Yet, it had not fired upon them. If it had, the effects would have been deadly. The second scout plane had reported that its guns were at least 20 inchers, well over big enough to punch right through the battle cruisers' relatively thin armor. Built for speed, the main ships of First Cruiser Squadron had large armaments, all sporting at least nine 14" guns, some more (Ithtyr, Erzsebet's flagship, had fifteen of these weapons in five triple turrets), but in order to attain their phenomenal top speeds (which were classified, but all well over thirty knots), they sacrificed much in the way of armor.
Erzsebet was interrupted from her brooding by the helmsman. "Visual confirmation. By the gods, that thing is enormous..."
The vampiress looked up to see an incredibly large battleship, larger than anything Callisdrun had. By the looks of it, it was a miracle the thing even floated. At that size, it must be obscenely slow she thought. It looked to be well over 200,000 tons displacement. Her own ship wasn't even half that, despite being over nine hundred feet long. At least she had a huge speed advantage, as the monster in front of her probably notably lacked in that department, seeing as how you could only apply so much power to the screws.
"Order the squadron to get as close as possible. Hold your fire but maintain ready positions." The leviathan still didn't fire upon them, which was odd, but it didn't hurt to prepare for the situation if that changed. At point blank range, the battleship's advantage would be greatly diminished, as no amount of armor was capable of withstanding a barrage of fire by the heavy guns mounted on both battleships and battle cruisers this close. Not to mention the torpedoes of the escort ships.
Amused at the thought, Erzsebet wondered what the crew of the gigantic battleship thought, seeing her squadron approaching. Virtually invisible to the eye at night, the battle cruisers were painted a very dark grey, except Ithtyr which was jet black. Like the marauding longships of old, all had figures projecting up from their bows. Many were dragon heads, but the flagship's was a depiction of the fanged heathen goddess that was her namesake. Perhaps the dark ships looked like a pack of wolves, wary of a possible intruder.
When they had surrounded the newcomer, Erzsebet thought it wise to hail them (in the ship sense, not as in praise them). "This is First Cruiser Squadron of the Callisdrunian navy," she said. "Please identify yourselves. Are you friend or foe?" The ship should have been a foe, at least they had been briefed on as much before leaving, yet it had not fired. I hate this war the moroii thought as she waited for a reply. It had already been a terrible experience and yet she hadn't been able to do any actual fighting. Not that she wanted to at the moment, though.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
OOC: No deletions of posts. Just let it stay. We'll forgive you. ;)
Genocide still fumbled through the pages of the book, staring at the strange writing within it, flipped all the way to the back before looking up with an almost disgusted face. "I don't get it," she said, putting the book down, "what does it say?"
Lowering her head and sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Genocide crossed her legs. "I don't have books like this. I was playing and the guards weren't really watching me and I went into this room that I wasn't allowed in. and I found books in there and they had pictures of planes and ships and so many things! And there were maps! Maps like they have in books! And the maps had stars on them and red lines! I think they were treashure maps and all the stars and X marks were secret places with treashure in them! But I wasn't allowed in there and got in a lot of trouble when the guards found me. I guess it was sposedto be a sprise and they didn't want me to know bout the treashure maps," Genocide confided, her eyes lighting up with the thoughts of hidden treasure in places unseen.
"Did you ever see a real treashure map?" she asked back, her mind now reverting back to pleasant times and memories; superficial thoughts and dreams she was not permitted to have.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Standing aboard the ship, several crew members gathered on the deck, gazing down at the gathering ships who stared at them. It was as if it were a cold war, both sides, sitting there waiting for the other to make a move.....no word nor movement issued from either side.
Lighting another cigarette, one of the men who had been watching scout ships come and go and now this small fleet arrive, took a slow drag from the cigarette. Exhaling a small puff of smoke, he leaned over the railing, and watched the ships floating nearby, ever cautious of the massive beast before them.
"I don't think they get it," he slurred, flicking the half lit cigarette into the ocean while another one of his fellow crew members joined him at the railing, both watching it vanish into the air long before it his the surface of the water.
"Lay off it Jim," his friend replied, handing him another cigarette, "they are from Callisdrun. They have seceded The Reich but left their troops behind in The Dictatorship. Don't think they quite communicate well over there."
"They should fear us," Jim replied, taking the cigarette from his friend and taking a single drag before stomping that one out on the deck. "What are they waiting for? They are just sitting there?"
More joined them to look at the ships, "They're admiring your looks Jim," his friends laughed, slapping Jim in the back.
"Maybe they want a fight?" he thought aloud, looking down at this small fleet, knowing that were dangerously close, too close for any sane person to be to this phantom ship. "I wonder if they know who we are? We know who they are, but do they know who we are? Why are they still just there?"
"They have a death wish," his friend grumbled before pushing back from the railing and walking down the length of the deck, beginning to strip his uniform, tossing it into the wind. The wind caught each garment of clothing and sent it off the ship, floating toward the water and the small fleet spread out before them. Not long later was Jim's friend stark naked standing on the deck of the ship. "Skinny dippin' anyone?"
Jim merely shook his head, "You go, I'm going to head to bed."
Shrugging his shoulders, he friend plunged into the waters beneath them, joined by three others. It took them a great deal of time, kicking through the air, feeling the air rush past them before hitting the surface of the ocean hard, knocking the wind from all three. Gasping for breath, they broke through the surface and took a deep breath, staring at was once a small ship and that now appeared to be a rather large ship.
"Hello!" Jim's friend called out, "is anyone there?"
As the Major General peered over the ruins of what was once the greatest city known to man, Richard felt a pang of sadness for everyone who once sheltered within its immense boundaries. He himself, however, didn't feel nearly as much emotion upon leaving. A sort of peace entered him, beyond that which the morphine gave... a happiness, leaving the city that to him had meant only pain and suffering. Still, a sense of leaving something behind filled him.. unspecific in its meanderings within his mind. He only wished the holes in his memory would fill, and fast.. yet, at the same time, his greatest fear was that they would; odd, that.
"What do I think... about Dante or the ship? The ship is unlike anything ive ever seen, magnificent indeed. We only have very small boats in Adyndril, suitable only for lakes really. My father has a yacht anchored on the large lake next to our capital city, but im definately not used to traveling by boat. Thankfully its a large ship, else I might empty my stomach over the railing. Most unseemly.
Dante though..." those holes in his memory were wreaking havoc even now, "a fine man, from what little I remember of our meeting. It seems like so long ago..." he trailed off and thought, "was it he who did this to The Mansion and the city? Im sorry if my question offends, its just that... well," he sighed, "I dont know. I wish to learn some of the history of The Reich, but haven't had time yet; perhaps you'll teach me some on our voyage?"
Really though, the most important thing on his mind was getting Alex onto that boat without exacerbating his injuries. Richard was not a very good rider, and he worried that he was jostling the poor man far too much... they should have made a litter. Too late for that.. He sighed again, that really was becoming a bad habit. The painkiller coursed through his veins like molten gold, taking a fair bit of his attention. What a wonderful drug.
He unconsciously patted the coat pocket containing the many little vials as they rode along.
OOC: Sorry everyone. DFD, I need to know if you started on any of the pages I was supposed to do. These long days are killing me. Only 12 hours today though, woohoo. Im going to shower and probably go to watch a movie at the IMAX with someone I know.
PS only 8 more days till book 7! Ill kill for the time to read that!
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Reaching the ship, a helicopter emerged from seemingly no where, the blades whipping the air and water around it. It hovered above the small boat for some time as they all hopped into the helicopter, assisting Alex Ruhumunah in carefully during the process.
Once brought aboard Genocide, the helicopter landed, turning off its engines for the moment. All exited the helicopter and for the first time ever, stepped foot aboard the most notorious ship to sail the waters of The Reich....the first Reich Members to step afoot on Dante's ship.
"This is mighty impressive," Tresckow added, in awe at the impressive work of this ship. Shielding his eyes against the sunlight, he looked up to one of the massive cannons that spread over him at a great length. "I have only heard stories of their firepower. Is it true that you can destroy entire Navies with those cannons?"
Overhearing the newcomers talking about Genocide, Jim walked over, knowing that he could contribute much more about this ship than others aboard it.
"Well, yes," responded one of the soldiers who accompanied them to the ship, who suddenly became nervous around this man.
"Genocide can eradicate navies, cities, military bases. As far as those cannons can reach, Genocide can obliterate," Jim stared hard at them all. "Genocide does not use your standard ammunition. She is a very powerful ship. Those cannons are not as large as they are for show. You need larger cannons to support our ammunition....anything smaller would heat too quickly and melt before our eyes. And we chose platinum because it is least resistant to the phenomenal heat changes our ammunition causes." Staring at them hard for a moment of silence, he looked directly to Tresckow, "Is there anything else you want to know?"
"No sir, thank you for your explanation of this magnificent ship. I am thoroughly impressed with this ship and your extensive knowledge its inner workings. I assume you have strong ties to this ship," Tresckow kindly replied, nodding his head, trying to reconcile any offense he may have given.
Jim merely scoffed and turned his back to them, "You'd be dead if Dante were still alive," he muttered angrily.
The soldiers looked to both Jim and Tresckow, watching Jim disappear around the bend of an entrance into the ship. "He is still loyal to the old empire," the soldier offered....an explanation for the unpredictable behavior of this man. "Would you like something to eat or drink? It'll be a long trip back?"
Nodding, the soldiers departed, only one remaining in close proximity to watch their "guests."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
No, I did not make copy any of those pages. I will if you cannot do them though.
"It's the story of the author of 'The Exile's Lament.' That's a poem and old song in my nation." Truly it was a beautiful and heartbreaking piece, but probably not the sort of thing that would interest a small child, not to mention it would lose something in translation. Though, the nurse was pleased that her charge seemed a bit more cheerful at present. "The book is in my nation's language. There are no pictures because a lot of times when we get older and can read really well we just imagine what's happening."
Truth be told, she wasn't quite sure what the little girl was talking about. Military charts perhaps? She was on a military plane... no idea why, maybe she's some general's child....
Perhaps the girl wouldn't understand the true purpose of such things. Then again, maybe she could. It was very easy to estimate incorrectly the mental faculties of a small child. However, if the girl had decided that what she saw were treasure maps, then that was how the nurse would refer to them as well.
After thanking the orderly who brought in a tray of cookies, with milk (in a metal cup... there were no glass or ceramic eating implements aboard Callisdrunian vessels), the nurse said "No, I've never seen a real treasure map, if you have, you're lucky."
The seemingly insane sailor who had jumped overboard would likely hear startled but rapid, efficient speaking in an unfamiliar tongue as figures moved about on board the Ithtyr. Though smaller than the hulking juggernaut she had come near alongside to, the battle cruiser was no dwarf herself, but though the size of many of Callisdrun's battleships, she appeared long and sleek rather than big and bulky. It was quite a contrast with her black shape next to the gleaming mass of the yet unknown battleship.
Though the ship that dreadnought appeared to be was listed under hostile forces, the crews of First Cruiser Squadron (a misnomer, as the group's main firepower came from the battle cruisers, rather than their smaller cruiser cousins) were no fools and if a defacto truce existed, they would not be eager to break it. So, a line was thrown to the sailor and a boarding ladder let down for him to haul himself up by.
A few Berserkers had made themselves present in case the man got up to trouble. "I don't see why we were called," Corporal Lenadat grumbled. A stern faced woman, she was not known for her patience. "For the gods' sakes, he's naked, and I doubt he could swim very comfortably with a bomb in his rectum, not that one that size would do much damage." She sighed as the sailors towed him in by the line.
Aboard the bridge, Erzsebet watched with interest. No reply to our hail... by Fenris, I wish they'd just declare themselves friend or foe so we could either greet each other or kill each other... perhaps this swimmer is their amusing way of sending messages... She wasn't particularly worried. The battleship could easily have fired upon them at any juncture, and yet hadn't. Additionally, it was bracketed by the guns of not only Ithtyr, but also Naglfar immediately to its port side and Valkyrie astern, with the rest of the battle cruisers and heavy cruisers just outside these three, which would unfortunately go down with the unknown battleship if things turned ugly. Hopefully they would not.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide began to kick her feet back and forth, holding onto the bed frame while staring at the blank wall in front of her.
"I think my daddy had a big treashure. He kept the doors locked to his house and you can't get in it. I think he had a really big treashure and he was trying to hide it. Daddy's house is scary. I think he made it that way to keep away bad people from his treashure," Genocide continued to ramble.
Picking up the glass of milk, she took a sip from it before putting it down. "Did you know that if you put the purple drops in water it can kill people? Master used to do it to the prisoners." Disregarding her own comment as if she had never made it, Genocide took a cookie and examined it first before nibbling on it. "Look! I'm a squirrel!" she squealed, delighted in her active imagination.
"Genocide! Enough!" the voice echoed through her head.
"I'm sorry," she said to herself, speaking her thoughts, as she sat back on the edge of the bed, setting the remaining half of the cookie back onto the plate, suddenly upset with her own play.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Sprawling out on the deck of Ithtyr, Jim's friend embraced the sunlight upon his naked flesh. Joined by his friends, they all laughed as they lay in the warmth of the early afternoon sunlight.
Not understanding a word being spoken among the people staring at them as if they were a rare exhibit, Jim's friend shrugged and merely placed his hands behind his head, resting his head on them, and staring toward the sky.
"I wonder if they know how to speak the language of The Reich?" he asked his friend, momentarily looking over, seeing in the distance a quick flash of black light. "What the?" he murmured, quickly shaking his head and staring out into the distance, seeing nothing this time. Assuming his mind had been playing tricks on him, he just shrugged and turned his gaze back to the clouds.
"You are one crazy mo'fo' brother," his friend spoke to him as they stared at the sky together, wondering when they would exhaust their welcome.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Feeling the sweat collect between his shoulder blades, Dante groaned, unable to see anything. His arms were secured tightly behind him to what he assumed to be a pole of some sort, as his back had not been able to bend since he had remembered. Unable to budge the slightest, Dante had lost all feeling in his body from below his shoulders, and for as far as he was concerned was probably sitting in a pile of his own excretions.
It was hot here and there was something pungent in the air that came in waves, enough to put him to sleep. He knew the smell but his memory evaded him....it was a blackened abyss with no recollection of the life he had before. All he could remember was that ever since he woke up he had been in this same position and unable to move from it. He had no idea why he was there or what he had done that ended him up in this situation, but in the darkness, he felt a sense of peace and calm overcome him....a feeling he somehow knew he rarely experienced.
Taking long deep breaths despite the heat in the room, he began to meditate, a custom he had begun since waking up in this room. Each time he had woken up, he began the meditation, it was all he could do....contemplating his predicament proved useless provided he had no memories of anything outside the room he was in.
However, he did know each time he woke up, he felt somehow different....sometimes he felt weaker and sometimes he felt stronger. Sometimes he felt pain and other times he felt comfortable. He never heard voices, never spoke, and most certainly never saw anything. All he could do was feel heat and the collecting pools of sweat that periodically formed on various parts of his body and smell that pungent odor surface in the air. He had no recollection of taste although he never felt hungry or thirsty.
Instead of pondering on this mystery though, he meditated, clearing his mind completely and becoming attuned to something deep inside of him that stirred and moved and whispered silently to his deepest thoughts.
Smelling the scent and feeling the sweat pool that was forming between his shoulder blades suddenly release and run down his back, he groaned again, a sound formed more from the inner self then anything. He tried to fight it this time, but failed, the smell took over and his mind went completely blank....submerging him somewhere else in the darkness as the self within let out a final groan.
"Maybe he did," the nurse said in response to the child's speculation that her father made their house scary to keep away people who'd steal treasure. Thinking again about her book, a thought entered her mind that it was really a pity that one's imagination was at its most creative before one could read at a very advanced level. Such a shame
At mention of what seemed to be a poison, though, her mind suddenly sprang to full alertness. She said nothing about it, though, since the girl seemed to have completely moved on.
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" she asked, not sure what her charge was talking about. "Pretending to be a chipmunk isn't bad as long as you don't do something that would be bad anyway," she said, reassuringly.
Lenadat's scowl peered down at them, not very amused. "Fools. You could very easily have been sucked into the screws. What in Loki's name is wrong with you?" She had a bit of an accent, but was quite clear in her speech.
Before they could reply to her rather blunt statement, another armed Callisdrun came up beside Lenadat and said "Oh come on, Birgit, that's no way to greet someone." His accent was a little thicker, and his voice was warm and friendly sounding despite the slight hissing background sound that indicated he was a moroii.
"Gentlemen," he said, turning to the sailors and helping them up before giving each a towel (he had thought to have some brought up), "Welcome aboard the CDF Ithtyr, battle cruiser and flagship of the First Cruiser Squadron. I am Corporal Novikas, this here," he nodded towards his counterpart, "Is Corporal Lenadat, we are part of the ship's Berserker contingent. The admiral has requested that we escort you to the bridge, but you should probably dry off first."
Men and women looked curiously upon the (to them) foreigners, before Lenadat gave them an icy look that sent the sailors back to their various tasks.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide no longer maintained eye contact, she stared at her feet which she kicked slowly. "Thank you for the cookies. They were good," was all she said, the single half eaten cookie laying on the plate almost begging her to finish them.
She could not help but feel regret surface and the pain of a boot hitting her hard in the ribcage in the silent nights of Mahanoy....if only others could hear the cries of pain or her silent prayers for someone to save her.
When a moment of awkward silence passed where they both sat waiting for the other to say something, Genocide merely laid down, curling tightly into a ball.
"I'm tired," she lied, a trick that saved her many times from further hurt and pain, "when is it bedtime?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"Hey thanks," Jim's friend grinned, taking the towel from Novikas followed by the others who also thanked them. Drying off his hand, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, still remaining fully exposed, and extended his hand to both. "Thank you for your hospitality. And here we thought you would throw us off the ship soon."
The others, wrapping their towels around their waists, followed behind Jim's friend who led the way behind the corporals. They stared at Jim's friend as if he were the class clown and shook their heads at the fact that he still had not covered himself up. It was as if he were asking to be shot, but they knew that was an unlikely outcome.
As they walked, Jim's friend looked around, "Nice ships. Guess they aren't small unless compared to our beauty. So where is this admiral? And if you don't mind I'd like to air dry. Don't get these kind of experiences often if ya know what I mean."
"Really?" Novikas said, surprised. In Callisdrun there were no laws against public nudity, though generally it was a bad idea to go around nude any time but the warmest days of the summer because of the weather. He did not regale them with this fact, though, merely shrugging.
Lenadat, oddly the more gruff of the two, got to the point. "The admiral is on the bridge, you'll be seeing her now," she said, deadpan.
"That is, of course, unless there are objections," her counterpart added, softening the command like statement to something more akin to a suggestion.
Though all the Berserkers were armed, none had bothered pointing their assault rifles at the swimmers. It made some sense, as most would not feel particularly threatened or hostile to a group of skinny-dippers. The Berserkers themselves, though clothed, were odd in that their attire was no formal uniform as such, being dressed simply in drab comfortable clothing, though their shirt sleeves bore notch like markings, despite being of different makes and slightly different colors.
"That's a very large battleship you fellows crew," Novikas said, making light conversation on their way up several stairways to the bridge. "What brings you to these waters?"
The nurse found it odd that her charge was suddenly apparently tired. However, she did not think it too strange, given that children often ran out of energy suddenly.
"You can sleep whenever you want to," she said simply. "You're a patient and rest is good for you."
Some things the child had said, though... purple liquid that killed? Some kind of poison she thought, going to the obvious answer. Who are the prisoners, and who is master?. The bigger, underlying question, though was What has she witnessed?
Smiling, the nurse said "You know, you still haven't said what your name is. I'm Erika. Will you tell me about your home? Or would you rather I just turned out the lights so you could sleep? Do you need a night light or anything?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Hoisting his arm around Lenadat, Jim's friend, Jake, grinned to the Corporal. "Lookin' good my dear," he whispered in her ear as he pulled himself closer to her, winking at her slightly. Merely in jest, Jake pulled away again and walked up to Novikas more seriously.
"Is she always that way?" Jake asked, looking back quickly to meet what he interrupted as either a a disgusted look or an emotionless face with features set in steel.
However, Novikas asked a more daunting question, drawing his attention as they proceeded toward the bridge. Jake's boisterous laughter rang over all else, silencing the lapping waves against the ship for a moment, until he looked at Novikas serious face and the other's.
"Oh.... Now this is interesting," Jake's voice turned from humorous to serious, resuming somewhat of his professional manner. "You don't know do ya?"
But when no one had responded, Jake took a step back, moments before meeting this admiral they spoke of. "You surrendered. Your Fuhrer has been defeated. A truce has been called and all whose opinion means something are meeting in Whitecastle to negotiate the terms. I thought you were kiddin' man, sorry to break it to you," Jake said in the most thoughtful tone he could muster. Despite being foolish at times, he knew that he himself would not want to hear news of surrender from the enemy's mouth. "I'm really sorry man."
Stealing a quick glance at the steel faced Lenadat, who he most expected to now shoot him in the back of the head, he moved out of range for a clear shot. "Uh.....we should perhaps explain this elsewhere," he said suddenly nervous.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide looked up into Erika's face despite being curled into a ball on the bed. "Genocide," she spoke sadly to herself mostly. "My Guard told me that my daddy named me. He named me for something that stood for an unyielding power, but I don't know what that is," she said, simply repeating what her protector had told her during their midnight talks.
When asked about her home though, she perked up, sitting up quickly, "Oh I live in a really big place! And I have this room all to myself but my Guards share it with me because I don't like to be alone. And there is this building Miss Erika....a building with these doors! And you can't get in them! You just can't. Master says they are locked. Master says that the night my daddy went away they were sealed and only my daddy can open them. I tried but they don't move. The doors are scary. They have scary faces on them. But inside is treashure! My daddy's treashure! That's why he has it locked. My daddy isn't alive anymore. My daddy is dead. That's why I'm here because my daddy is dead and Master says I have to come. I think my daddy was scary. He was scared. There is this place called The Reich and my daddy doesn't like them. My daddy tried to kill Der Fuhrer Dyszel! But Master says daddy was weak and he failed because he was a pathetic and worthless body in existence. Master doesn't like daddy. Master said daddy is too weak. Master said daddy lost sight of his goals and that now we have to finish them because daddy was a waste of time and our precious air. Oh and in our home we have these deers. Daddy lives in the middle of a forest. And there are all these pretty animals. We live in daddy's old home because daddy isn't alive anymore. But we have really pretty lakes and fountains. And secret places! Lots of secret places! I think they lead to treashure! Did you ever find treashure?" Genocide's animated talking flowed forth, fasting then a waterfall rushing to ground.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Standing on the sun warmed deck of Genocide, Alex shivered with each passing breeze. His fragile state left him in no position to be standing, and with the next passing breeze, his body was knocked backward into the arms of Tresckow. Alex felt humiliated as he tried to avoid the stares of the soldiers, a man as young as himself being held up by another man twice his age....this was the image of the man who was to be the next dictator.
Tresckow tried his best to maintain some of Alex's dignity, holding him up as surreptitiously as possible with the most casual facial expressions he could muster. But it was to no avail as Alex was slipping further from his grasp toward the ground.
Crouching to place Alex on the floor, he looked to a nearby soldier, summoning him. "Sir, is it possible to get us a room? I am afraid we heavily medicated him before leaving and the medications are causing drowsiness," Tresckow's polite voice softened the atmosphere.
The soldier nodded, his voice flat and simple, "come with me."
Hoisting up Alex again, the three departed from the deck down the length of the ship, entering large doors that allowed them to enter the ship. It could have been a cruise ship for how well kept and well presented this gleaming ship was shining with. It was enough to marvel all of them as they descended stairs to a long corridor with shining walls and elegant doorways. Clearly it was amazing and if it were not for the massive canons set above them, it would be hard to mistake this warship from cruise liner....a very large cruise liner.
Entering one of those rooms, a beautiful sight came before their eyes....it was to be expected from what they had seen. Their was an actual bed placed against the far wall, small chests and cabinets, and even a bathroom with an ornate bathtub placed in the center. Quite a contrast from what would have been expected from the man who had designed this ship.
"Thank you kind sir. This is the most amazing ship I have had the pleasure to enter. We are most grateful," Tresckow added with a warming smile. He was clearly a man who had learned well how to treat others with respect and how to show his appreciation and gratitude for hospitality.
Sliding Alex into the bed and taking a seat himself on the edge of the bed, Tresckow half laid down, stretching out his tired back. "This is most impressive, do you agree Richard?" speaking directly to their guest as to not think he were unwelcome and merely tagging along.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Whitecastle Theatre is opening. Any new members interested in joining should prepare to make travels to the nation of Whitecastle. Take note, Whitecastle is on Dante's territory and was a former nation of The Elite Empire (those who started the war against The Reich in the first place). Therefore, it behooves you to do your best not to over extend your welcome here.
Furthermore, current RP'ers, you have until I get back from vacation to get into Whitecastle. If you fail to get there, you will be written out of the RP for inactivity, which we cannot afford at this time in the game.
Thank you all.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
The room was simple, barren with the exception of a single bed, mirror, closet, and bathroom. The air was cool inside the room, but in this case, it did not matter whether it was an inferno of heat or subzero cold.
The man faced the mirror, staring closely at the reflective shades that stared back at him. His right arm hung useless at his side, dangling without life, the only hint of movement his weakened pulse. Using his good left arm, he lifted the dead arm to his chest, continuing to staring at himself in the mirror. If he could understand emotion, regret or loss would be the closest to what he would have felt. He let it drop, it swung helplessly down, slightly wrenching him down in the process.....it became nothing more then a dead weight....and fear that he would never again have use of it would have consumed him if he could comprehend such an emotion.
Regardless, he grabbed a cloth sitting before him and after several attempts, managed to sling the lifeless arm, suspending it around his neck so that it hung even with his chest.
Letting out a deep breath, he looked more intensely into the mirror, and removed the reflective shades covering his eyes. Instantly the infamous eagle carrying a Molotov cocktail took flight again, unhindered by the frame of the shades. But it was the dark pools that stared back that consumed the moment, overshadowing anything else that seemed awkward. Many times he had stared into the eyes of others only to see them crumble with tears, sparkle with passion, burn with rage, attack with resistance, even freeze with fear. But what stared back at him was empty. They were colored pools of still water....not a ripple to have graced the waters. They were frozen cold pools of color without so much as a hint of anything but blackness and emptiness as if the very life had been stolen from his body.
He replaced the shades without even having a thought about it. He was not privileged to the lives that so many took for granted. He was never to love, never to understand emotion, and most certainly never to feel the warmth of an embrace.
Walking back to the single bed he laid upon it, the springs creaking beneath his weight. And then it was again silent in the room as he stared at the ceiling, whether asleep or in thought it was impossible to tell behind the reflective shades that only showed the ceiling above.
Azzan Medici stared curiously at the small vial that he held in his hand, it was breakthrough in the medical world, a breakthrough that would revolutionize the very way treatments would be performed. The nanoscopic machines swirled around their glass prison, waiting to perform the job they were designed to do. Azzan smiled, the team around him gathered as the press filed in to see what had been kept secret for many a year. Azzan took a breath and waited a minute, red lights from what seemed a thousand cameras focused on him, he exaled. "Good evening people of Anceltierre and of fellow nations. We have made what many have thought improbable if not impossible- we have created a brand new branch of medical treatment." He held the vial high as flashes went off from the crowd. "This nanotechnology will allow us to attack infections directly, restore function to muscle and nerves, and to combat biological and chemical warfare." Azzan took in their apprehensive glances with a smile, "This is Anceltierre's future!"
Azzan walked down the hallway as aides came into step in his wake, informing him of the public's reception and the calls coming in for bids from other nations. Azzan shrugged the majority of the comments off until he heard an announcement regarding the Reich, the coalition of those on the mainland. "So they want people to meet in whitecastle and they think we want a part of the process do they?" The aide nodded, "Then get the Florentine ready, we'll depart within the hour." And with that he was on his way to whitecastle.
Lenadat tried not to flinch as the man suddenly through his arm around her. Thankfully, within a minute he was gone, going to talk to the moroii instead. It was an effort trying not to let emotion creep onto her face, but she pulled it off nonetheless. She didn't even know the man and he presumed to not only touch her but to do so in what she thought was a most sleazy fashion.
Seeming to be the complete opposite of his counterpart, Novikas laughed. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said when the man asked if the other Berserker corporal always acted so. "She takes herself a bit too seriously, I think," the vampire added, whispering.
At Jake's query, both corporals said, almost in unison "Don't know what?"
After he told them, both somewhat wished they hadn't asked. "Well that's news to me," Novikas said, his jollity dimmed by the revelations of defeat. "I suppose it answers the question of why a ship that as far as we know is under the command of the other side didn't fire on us even when we followed it.
When Jake glanced at her, he would see the same hardness in Lenadat's face as before, but tinged with what could be sadness perhaps. Though inside she was barely holding back tears, she kept her head held high, and alongside the sadness, an odd little hint of another emotion beneath the armored exterior. That there was still pride in being Callisdrunian, unbowed by defeat.
The same thing was visible just beneath the surface of the moroii's expression, which was somber in his own way. "Well, we're here now, the admiral is through this door," he said, opening it. Inside, The diminutive Erzsebet Sorvik was clearly in command, sitting and looking over charts as she drank a stein of what appeared to be blood.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Stepping inside quickly, breathing out a sigh of relief that neither had decided to shoot him for relaying the message, he walked up to the desk this admiral was sitting at and leaned over it, staring moreso what she was busy working on then anything in particular.
"Hello Ma'am, I reckon I'm hear to talk to ya. Those are some mighty fine maps ya got there...." he added, a slick grin spreading across his face, his friends joining at his side rolling their eyes.
Intent on the charts before her, Erzsebet had not greeted the man who had come up behind her to look at what she was doing, though of course she was aware of the presence.
"I'm sorry," she said with a self-deprecating giggle, "I should have greeted you at the door."
She stepped back, extending her hand. "I am Erzsebet Sorvik, Admiral of the First Cruiser Squadron," she said. The title didn't sound self-important, merely a job description. The vampiress (a fact that she did not bother hiding, as her long fangs were nigh impossible to conceal) had noticed the man was nude, but appeared not to be the least bit offended by said fact. "It would seem that you just came from the Genocide," she added, an opening for the man to introduce himself.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Jake shrugged as he walked around the room, examining the contents, taking up small paper weights in his hand and studying them instrinsically before putting them down.
"That's ok. I'm fine. Busy busy busy is the way to be. And yeah I'm from Genocide. My name's Jake....everyone just knows me as Jim's friend," Jake continued, speaking with half interest in the conversation but with more interest in the strange language he noted before him.
Realizing he was here on his self appointed mission, he lifted his head to look at Erzsebet, noting a subtle but remarkable beauty in her features. "Ah....ya see, yous guys surrendered some time ago. Everyone's gettin' together in my home nation of Whitecastle to discuss the terms of this surrender. Seems yous guys were kind of just off in la la land out here so I thought I'd invite yous myself," Jake's poor accent slurred forth, making him sound less educated then he really was.
The moroii crossed her arms below her breasts in the manner that might suggest skepticism except that it was obvious she'd seen stranger than a naked man informing her that she'd surrendered. "Did we?" she asked, fully aware of the amusing nature of the situation.
A few heads turned, including that of the helmsman. Erzsebet scowled at him and scolded him in her native tongue, her commands (including what would be obvious swearing even to a foreign ear) clipped and somewhat more hissing than her usual voice.
"Sorry, about that, you must understand that my crew is curious about you and your friends, Jake," she said apologetically. "So, our side surrendered, you say, and there's a big conference in Whitecastle." The name somewhat slithered off her tongue, as if she was testing saying it. "I'm not sure that we're really all that important. Do you know anything of the peace terms?" Erzsebet was a bit concerned, as she'd heard of nations having to surrender all their military equipment, including their navies. Some, she'd heard, scuttled their fleets to avoid this humiliation.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Jake again shrugged, "No Ma'am....that's what they are meeting to discuss. The way I think it's goin' down is everyone's gettin' together in Whitecastle and a treaty is gonna be drawn up. Those present get to have a say in the outcome. I'm hearin' whispers that this is bigger then big big. Talk of really important people comin'. Talk of other nations joinin'. It's big. You know we've even been jokin' that Dante himself wouldn't miss this one. Sitting in the room there talkin' and his ghost rise up from da dead just to be there. Can see it now. Dante's ghost just burstin' in cursin' sayin' what the hell did he miss," Jake began to laugh, obviously amused by the humor in what he was saying. A joke that probably no one understood because the name Dante had not been muttered amongst many since the fall of The Elite Empire.
Holding Jake in the penetrating gaze of her green eyes, Erzsebet chuckled. She could tell that some of his manner of speech was a charade. "So you think we should come then? Is it correct to assume that there is a ceasefire while negotiations take place?" The vampiress cocked one thin black eyebrow as she looked up at him (she did have to look up, standing only five feet and three inches tall, and bending one knee as she shifted her weight to her left leg didn't help).
A thin sheen of sweat was visible on the pale skin of her arms, overlaying the tattoos, giving the appearance of a sort of clear coat over a painting and its canvas. Callisdrunian moroii were cold-weather creatures, they did not like heat, and Erzsebet was no exception, having discarded her navy overcoat in favor of a black tank top with rank insignia (of a type indigenous to Callisdrun) due to the former's being much too warm. She waited for Jake to respond. Does he know I can tell he's playing dumb a little?
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Leaning against her desk, water dripped from Jake's hair, still being wet from his plunge into the water. "Yeah, I reckon ya best come. Ya don't have to, but looks like you guys weren't in on the action just sittin' here cookin' in the sun. We have AC in Whitecastle. And don't worry about protection. We won't attack ya or nothing while you're there. We're more respectable then that. Damn shame to stab someone in the back and twist it. So ya comin' Ma'am?" Jake wondered, noting that it was probably due time for Genocide to leave as the blades of the helicopter roared to life in the background, preparing to pick up the last stragglers from the mansion.
"I suppose we aren't doing that much good just anchored here as it is, so I suppose we will be coming," she sighed. If this war was over, good riddance as far as she was concerned. All that had happened had put her in situations that she was completely unsuited for, and she'd been captured and tortured seemingly at random, though it probably had not been. Yet, Callisdrun's navy hadn't been able to engage enemy surface units even once really, as the only enemies encountered had been in the air.
It was, of course, much to her chagrin that her side had apparently surrendered, but it might not turn out that badly, depending on what the peace settlements were. "Well now, Jake," she said. The name was awkward coming from her mouth, it was not a familiar one in Callisdrun. Her boots made clomping sounds as she walked over to the windows at the front of the bridge that looked towards Ithtyr's sharp bow, over the two forward turrets that each held three 14" guns (the other three turrets were situated with two astern and one amidships). "That was quite important news, thank you for informing me." Her voice was calm, by now Jake had probably gotten used to the hissing sound. "If you so desire, we can arrange transport back to your own vessel." Knowing what the name meant, she didn't like saying it too much. "Or, if you like you and your friends may remain aboard the Ithtyr, seeing as how there's no longer really reason not to."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Jake looked to Erzsebet, leaning his head to take her in some more. "Ma'am, we'll request you come aboard Genocide to protect you. Whitecastle's protection during this is so long as you're associated with Whitecastle and its property. No one's gonna dare attack this here baby. You'll be safest with us. But your ships can follow if that makes you more comfortable," Jake added, wondering how well she would take his proposition.
He was right to wonder.
From the stern expression her face had assumed, one could tall that Erzsebet was not pleased with this idea. "Jake, the last time I left my ship to enter a potentially hostile area, I was abducted without any warning whatsoever and then tortured." Her voice was not angry, but still it carried quite a lot of apprehension.
"Additionally," the vampiress said. "How do I know that I wouldn't simply become a hostage?" Callisdrunians had bad experiences with the way they were treated as prisoners in their history, especially if they happened to be female. "I do not want to be a captive. It's not you, Jake. You seem to be a decent man, I wouldn't accuse you of lying. My own luck is what I do not trust."
She looked away for a moment. "And you must understand, I love this ship. Ithtyr was practically built for me, as strange as that sounds. When I'm here it's almost as if I'm a part of it, or it's an extension of me." Erzsebet laughed, though it was hollow. "I'm sorry, you must think I am paranoid and crazy."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Jake merely looked at her again and shrugged, "Suit yourself Ma'am. I'll be goin' now. Dheyz expectin' me back at da ship."
Leaving the room Jake walked the length of the ship, listening the roar of helicopter blades start again. Within moments a helicopter hoovered above while Jake and his friends piled in. The helicopter returned to Genocide dropping off the others, the first helicopter still in the distance heading towards Konigsreich der Mathias.
Jake wasted no time rushing through the labyrinthe of the ship to convey the message that Callisdrun was not going to join, but simply follow.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
The sun shone above, beaming heavily upon all who were beneath it. In the silence of The Dictatorship, no sound stirred the air, not even the beating of the helicopter blades as the helicopter had landed. Even the sound of lapping waves against the ships sides were silenced.
It was a quiet lazy day......the perfect day for laying on a beach and just enjoying the weather.
But the silence was broken by a sudden hum, audible inside everyone's head. It was not a loud hum, but a steady dull hum, one that persisted through the silence of The Dictatorship. With the hum almost seem to come a sense of ominious foreboding.
And with the hum came the churning of the waters, slow at first, being stirred from an unseen force. It was as if the very depths of the ocean were opening up, a vortex, a portal to what lay beneath. But as the hum picked up slightly, becoming more then just the steady beating of a bees wings, the waters rushed and whirled, a vicous and fercious force, one in which a hurricane would produce. And with the now furious crashing of waves eminating from the very beast itself, Genocide crept forward, as if dipping her toe into the water to test the coldness.
The ship began to pick up more speed, moving slightly faster then a walk,the waters now bowing to their graceful counterpartner, parting and separting to make way for her massive body. A movement that issued forth a series of waves crashing into Callisdrun's fleet, rocking them as if they were heading into a storm. And as she circled around the fleet, they moved with her movements, pulled by a puppeteer, the invisible strings controlling their every move.
With grace she glided over the water, a deadily predator on the prowl, doing so with a grace.....her audience parting before her. And in her wake the waters trembled as if just witnessing the blood thirsty side of a trusted friend.....fleeing from her presence.....escaping to as far away as they could manage.
In the sun she gleamed, spilling bright rays off light off her body, blinding those who tried to steal a look at her canons.
Slowly she surged forth.....her destination, Whitecastle.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
All character/nation profiles must be submitted by the end of this up-coming week. Failure to do so will result in prohibition from joining to RP.
All members must also post your either arrival to Whitecastle or your attendence aboard Genocide to continue in the RP before the end of that time as well. Again, failure to do so will result in expulsion from the thread.
Remember, you all committed to this and all had several chances to back down. Take some responsibility and make a post being that this is what you signed up for. Or am I really going to have to sit through excuse after excuse as to why no one can post even though they agreed to continue with the RP?
I will be honest if this message is not clear, I am getting angry with the utter lack of responses in this thread. Do not commit to something and continue to say you will do it if you have no intention of doing so. It is spineless and shows serious lack of honesty....two traits I neither value nor want to associate myself with.
That is all I have to say. Continue to check the off-site forums for updates.
Across the ocean waves the dark ships of First Cruiser Squadron followed the Genocide. By their standards, the speed they traveled was slow, battle-cruisers were built for speed, to hunt and destroy smaller surface units and mount hit & run strikes against enemy coastlines. Still, the crews were happy to be underway again. Sitting holed up with nothing to do while being bombed repeatedly was bad for morale. The men and women who operated the deep grey ships had a noticeable lift in spirits as they reached the open ocean.
Trailing the enormous dreadnought at a great enough distance to avoid being swamped in her wake, yet still close enough to be quite present visually, the inky silhouettes were reminiscent of wolves cautiously tracking a great bear. They knew full well that their armor would not stop a shot from the behemoth's armament, as battle cruisers their armor was barely thick enough to stop shells from guns of the size they carried themselves, as weight had to be saved to increase speed, they were not meant to fight even normal battleships, their intended prey consisted of cruisers, destroyers, frigates and merchant ships.
Much further behind, out of visual range but in communication with First Cruiser Squadron followed the battle fleet, with dreadnoughts as its core. They were much more heavily armored and slightly more heavily armed than the battle-cruisers, but not as fast, though fortunately that did not seem to be an issue here.
From the bridge of Ithtyr (the name of the vampiric goddess of lust and vengeance was a fitting name for a ship so gracefully menacing in appearance), Erzsebet watched and waited. Suddenly, there was a transmission from the radio. In minutes, the radio operator reported the most unusual thing. The light carrier assigned to First Cruiser Squadron for escort purposes was requesting permission to return to Callisdrun.
That name immediately brought Erika's mind to full attention, completely alert now. She knew the girl wasn't lying, she had no reason at all to. If she said she was Genocide, as far as Erika was concerned, she was Genocide. Everything the nurse's young charge had said now made sense, the scary house, the purple liquid, it all made sense. She was talking about Dante. That was why she had initially expected some sort of red carpet treatment, because that was what she must be accustomed to.
"No, I never did find treasure," Erika said, not hinting at her startling revelation. "My friends and I sometimes looked for it when we were children, but we never were lucky enough to find any. Our parents probably would have made us give it away or check to see if it already belonged to someone else if we had, though. We did see lots of pretty animals though. My country has many beautiful animals."
"My goodness, I'm very tired," the nurse said. "I think it's time for me to take a nap. I'll be back in an hour." As she was leaving, she added, kindly "I'll bring more cookies too, and you can eat them then or later if you want."
Captain Rowan Maydat stood next to the radio operator of the light carrier Alfheim, waiting for a response. They had added that the reason for their request to head for Callisdrun was most urgent and would be fully revealed when they arrived.
They waited as minutes seemed like hours, passing ever so slowly. "Permission granted, take destroyer units 501, 427, 519 and 493, the Istengrad and Bergen with you. We've just confirmed that replacements will be sent up from the battle fleet. Over."
The transmission from Ithtyr had been brief and to the point. They were free to go. Rowan sighed a breath of relief. She had been afraid that the unpredictable and sometimes tempermental Sorvik would get more pressing. As the Alfheim turned and broke out of formation with First Cruiser, the four destroyers and two cruisers escorting her fell in around her. Captain Maydat waited until they were out of visual range to go to full speed. Part of her wanted to go up to flank speed, but she knew that the destroyers wouldn't be able to sustain that for long.
Nurse Erika returned, as she had said she would, one hour from when she left, and, true to her word, she had in hand more cookies. "Did you take a nap too?" she asked the little girl, who had turned out to be none other than Genocide. Erika tried to carry on just as before, though, not letting the child know that the name meant anything other to her than what Erika's name meant to the girl.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
While Erika had left the room, Genocide grew restless, again picking up the book that Erika had left behind. She skimmed through the pages, this mysterious language that was so difficult to understand. She put together letters, as one would crack a code, placing two identical symbols together and inferring the words that could be made of them, slowly beginning to piece together small words and even a sentence time to time.....a hobby she had picked up when her master was not in the room. It was merely a game to her, cracking codes and dicephering letters, a childhood game she picked up from curiousity about all those documents in red and black folders.
Her memories faded back and for a brief moment images of a brown tinted paper that she had repeatedly seen on her master's desk floated to the surface of her memory. The paper always had intrigued her, the symbols so mysterious and unlike any discernible language, it was an ancient language and one that was meant to hide the deepest and darkest of secrets.....one in which the only recognizable figures were that of her father's name....the dark black letters neatly scripted across the bottom, DANTE.
Reawakening from her memory, she put the book down, only learning that the main character was self reflecting in that small piece she managed to understand. Not understanding half the words she deciphered, she filed them away for later, making a note to ask about them when Erika had arrived.
However, when Erika arrived, Genocide was still sitting staring at the wall, her eyes blank as did not move. She was unaware of Erika's presence as final memories of something loud, burning fire, the rushing feeling of falling fast, protective arms that held her tight, and nothingness filled her mind.
"Did you take a nap too?" Erika had asked, breaking her from her trancelike state.
"What happened to him?" she asked, suddenly looking sad, lost, like a puppy on the side of a street waiting for its mother to return for it. "He was holding me. Where is he?"
Confused, Erika put down the plate of cookies and sat with Genocide. "Who are you speaking of?" she asked, perplexed as her mind ran through the possibilities. "Are you all right?" the nurse asked, genuinely concerned by the child's sudden change of mood.
It didn't seem normal to her for a young girl to stare blankly at the wall in such a way. Erika privately thought that her charge had probably suffered from very traumatic experiences, though she couldn't begin to guess what exactly. There was, of course the plane crash. Perhaps that's what she's talking about.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide's eyes began to water, the tears first coming slowly, but picking up with intensity as her breathing became labored. She was frightened in this new place, a place that scared her, a cold dark place where friendly faces were far between....where no one spoke her language.....where no one even brought her to her bedroom.
"I want him....that guy.... My Guard.... He was on the plane.... He was holding me.... I woke up here.... I want him.... Bring me to him.... Where is he? I want him.... He's nice....," she muttered between sobs, her heavy crying impeding her sentences.
A sad, pained expression struck Erika's face. "I'm sorry, Genocide," she said. "He... didn't make it..." She put a comforting hand on the girl's back. "He was hurt very badly in the plane crash..." It was terrible to have to deliver this news, it was never easy telling someone that a person they cared for had died. After the horrible turret explosion, ten years ago, the captain of the Varghona had gone and personally given his condolences to the families of every single person who had died.
Erika wished she could be like that, to know exactly what to say and how to say it, but it was more difficult than it sounded. Sometimes, maybe it was best not to say anything, since no words would bring back the departed.
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Genocide stared at Erika, the tears still streaming from her eyes, "What do you mean he didn't make it? Make what? Where is he? I want to be brought to him. Take me to him now. I need to see him," she ordered, not understanding why Erika did not understand the urgency to see her Guard. He was her friend; he cared about her, like a father who loves their daughter.
She did not understand why Erika was talking about. "He didn't make what? He was hurt badly? Where was he?" her mind raced, as the deepest desire to be held came over her. A sickening cold feeling rose from the pits of her stomach, one she only felt a few times in her life, each one surrounding that man with those dark angry eyes.
Sighing, Erika steeled herself to explain. "He died," she said quietly. There had been nothing they could do, he had been determined to be bleeding profusely, but it was interior bleeding. They had scrambled to get blood of his type to transfuse, but it had been just barely too late. Sometimes things just worked out that way. Even with fast medical response, people still died. Medicine was not omnipotent anywhere, and naturally, those who had tried to save the man felt bad about failing to do so.
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Genocide's world had collapsed, hell had frozen over, and if it was not for the kindness Erika had been showing her, she would not have believed this news, but the sincere saddness in her voice when she said it was enough for Genocide to believe the truth.
"He was like my daddy," she said, trying to feign the tears biting at her eyes. Her master had taught her to hold emotion, but never in her life had it been more difficult then right now.
She looked to Erika, a sudden urge to run away filled her. She was like a caged animal, ready to escape, wanting to run free and feel the wind her in face and the fresh air in her lungs. She moved away from Erika and rushed toward the door, only to find it locked.
Banging on it hard, she tried with all her five year old might to burst down the strong doors, but to absolutely no avail. If it was not for the news of a death looming in the air, the scene may have been commical.
"Let me out!" she screamed, pounding harder and harder, "let me out at once! Open this door now! Let me out! HELP!" Her voice began to quiver, breaking with a new wave of tears, she wanted to see him as if seeing his dead body might confirm it....maybe they were mistaken.....she had seen death before if he was truly dead, she would know. She had to see, but where he was she had no idea in this strange world that was crushing in on her, stiffling out her very life.
Growing weaker as the rush of energy began to drain, the tears broke loose despite all she did to act as her master taught her. The warm drops poured down her cheeks, her eyes red, her nose running, "Let me out," she begged, contining to bang on the door, the tears falling onto the floor unhindered, splashing with sadness as each drop hit.
"And where would you go if I did?" asked the nurse, sharing in the grief of the child. She got up and went to Genocide and wrapped her arms around the girl, gently, protectively. Not exactly sure what to do, Erika had decided that this was the best course. She was no mother, but knew that her patient might injure herself if she kept on pounding at the metal door. Genocide had injured herself once already, Erika was wary that she might do so again.
Drawing the five year old away from the door, she said "It's all right to cry." It didn't matter that the girl's tears were dampening Erika's red uniform, after all, better tears than blood, the liquid whose stains the fabric's color was meant to hide. Why couldn't they have assigned her someone better than me at this? Erika thought. She'd never felt more inadequate in her life.
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With streaming tears she clutched onto Erika, holding her tightly, as one holds a stuffed animal. "I want to see him," she cried loudly, unable to hold back the heavy sobs and running nose. "I want to see if it is day or night. I want to smell the air. I'm scared," her voice came out between the sobs as a quiet whisper, barely audible unless you were trying to listen.
Still clutching onto Erika as if Erika was a life floatation device, the only object keeping her from sinking into the depths of despair and terror, Genocide pressed her head into her shoulder, rubbing her face into the tear and snot soaked fabric. She wanted only to see his body and to see the sky, to make sure that none of this really was a dream.
"I want to see the sky. They say the stars are different this time of year a world away. That's when you'll know you are there....when you are finally home."
The Florentine had been flying for a couple hours when land was finally seen beneath them. Azzan stared out the window, disinterested with lands he saw as a boring waste. An voice spoke "Sir we're approaching Whitecastle airspace, we should be arriving within the hour. Good luck down there sir." Azzan smirked, where he was going there'd be no use for luck.
45 minutes later the plane landed, and set of stairs deployed. Press swarmed at the edges of a hasty perimeter put up. Azzan glided smoothly forward, the aides around him notifying the offcials of Whitecastle of their arrival
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With the landing of the plane and the surrounding of the press, a group of eight men stood watching this on-coming man, almost analyizing his every move. When a moment or two had passed, enough time for this new comer to gain a sense of his place within this new land, they stepped forward, walking in what looked like a flight pattern.
Out flanking the press, they surrounded this new comer quickly, their solid black uniforms giving no indication of who they were. Once this new person was trapped within their protective circle, a man behind him walked aside of him and took his arm in a firm grasp.
"I am a Whitecastle official. If you are an innocent man, you have nothing to fear," his voice cold and solid formed clearly despite the obvious confusion sounding outside their circle.
Stepping behind Azzan, the man spread Azzan's leg with his foot, and lifted Azzan's arms out. Patting him down quickly, Azzan passed the preliminary search, indicated by a pat on the shoulder from the man who had just searched him.
Breaking their circle, loosening up, the men spread out, giving Azzan room to breathe. The man who had searched him game to his side now, walking as an equal and not an authoratian. "We have been notified by your pilot that you are here for the summit. We are your personal guards. Whitecastle has ensured the safety of all national officials entering this nation; you will appreciate our rude welcoming later. We need to move you quickly to our base to maintain your protection. Out here, you are an open target. If you are honest to us, we will be honest to you, that goes without the need to say there is of course classified information we are not permitted to speak about with guests. I first must ask if you have an allegiance. I have been told you here merely for interest and obversation on the note of Tresckow, but if your mind has changed, you must notify us immediately so we can keep you will allied forces. For the best interests of all, we have decided to seperate all sides of the war with their rooms to avoid an unnecessary conflicts that may arise. Do you have a preference?"
Regardless of Azzan's answer, they kept moving, ushered into a vehicle that was parked outside the airport. Still sitting aside Azzan, "My name is Kyle Glaucow, Imperial Soldier of The Elite Army, and summit coordinator. I will be at your service throughout this summit. If you need my creditenials, you may ask for them at any time."
Reaching into the door panel, Kyle removed a bottle of wine and opened it, pouring himself and Azzan a drink. "Now that formalities are aside. Welcome to Whitecastle, man I have yet to learn your name. So what is your name? I've been informed of it earlier, but I did not bring my paperwork. Was your flight here comfortable?" he asked, handing Azzan a glass while taking a sip of his own, tasting the flavor. Finding it to his liking, he drank freely from the glass, loosening his professional stance slightly.
"I'm afraid you can't see him, Genocide," Erika sighed. "He was buried at sea hours after he died," she said. "Even if you could see him, you wouldn't really be seeing him, you'd only be seeing his body, which his spirit has left," she added.
The nurse gently rocked the girl from side to side, holding her snugly. "Do you want to go outside? The stars are beautiful at sea." Erika's voice was soft, one didn't need to be loud inside this room and Genocide was right there. The majesty of the night sky was one of the things Erika had always loved about being in the navy. There were so many stars out in ocean, far away from all artificial light. She still wasn't in any way tired of it.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide lifted her head and for the first time rubbed her eyes, nodding to agree with Erika. Being outside was something she wanted more then anything right now.....especially now that she learned of the death of this man who had done nothing but treat her like she were his own daughter.
Moving from Erika's grasp, she stood up and straightened the the oversized shirt that had replaced her dress, being that small children's clothing were unaboard the ship. Feeling pain in her movements for the first time since she woke up, she noticed that her ribs had been badly bruised. The pain being enhanced by her uncontrollably crying.
"Can we go outside now?" Genocide asked softly, avoiding eye contact, feeling lost. Seeing the book still where it was left, she quickly ran over and grabbed it, bringing it over to Erika. "We can read it," she added, handing the book to Erika, taking her hand in the process.
Azzan swirled his wine and took a long sniff, letting the scent alone intoxicate his senses- a fine wine to say the least. He paused, then answered, "My name is Azzan Medici, Potentate of Biotechnology. As for the harsh welcome, it's of no matter...what was you're name again?" Azzan gave an inquiring smile. He shifted, in his seat and continued speaking, "As long as the bed is stiff and the pillows soft I'll be fine- there wouldn't happen to be neutral accomidations though? I happen to think both sides will want to hear what the middle ground can offer them if certain conditions are met." He smiled a smile that held a hint of actual mirth in the thought of his invention then waited for the answers to spill out of the official.
"Yes, let's go outside now" the nurse said, unlocking and opening the door. "And yes, but it will be difficult and I'll have to translate for you," Erika added when Genocide began talking about the former's book. The door opened fully with a slight grating sound, nothing too harsh, but evidence of how much it weighed and Erika stepped out, taking the girl gently by the hand.
Up they went, though the cramped passages and staircases of the Alfheim. they passed through an enormous room filled with aircraft (Shrike fighters for those interested), before finally emerging onto the flight deck. There were a few lights, but they were mostly red and blue. Erika took her young patient around to a sheltered walk way that went around the superstructure. They passed an AA weapon that jutted skyward, but the nurse had Genocide sit down where the walkway rounded the corner of the 'house,' well away from any weaponry and somewhat protected, and also with an excellent view of the dazzling stars. "This is why I chose to stay at sea even after my mandatory time was finished," she said to Genocide.
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"My name is Kyle, Kyle Glaucow. Neutral accomodations.....we can do that," Kyle stated, relaxing some as the long drive persued. Not one for too much small talk, Kyle poured himself another glass of wine and rested his head back on the seat, closing his eyes and listening to the hum of the car.
A small beeping awoke him and he sat up suddenly aware that he had dozed off and in the process of jumping spilled his wine all over his uniform. Flicking the remaining fluid from his hands, he threw the glass on the floor in frustration.
Suddenly remembering where he was and what he was doing, he resummed his professional quality and turned to Azzan. "We are here, welcome to Sector 0000," Kyle offered, motioning out the window to the gleaming lights of the city as they wrapped their way around back roads and toward a very lavish building, with high pillars and bright lights.
"You shall be staying here for the night. Let me escort you to your room."
The door opened as Kyle stepped out and led the way inside the building. Guards nodded as they entered the building, respecting Azzan's position in this summit. Traveling up stairs and down a corridor, Kyle opened a door to a moderate sized room.
"This is your room. Call me if you need anything. Any bags you have will be brought in momentarily. Is there any questions you had?" Kyle asked politely, wanting to make sure their guest was comfortable before departing.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide sat down and hugged her knees, the oversized shirt blowing in the night wind, the temperature colder then what she was used to. Nights were always warmer in Mahanoy, but here, wherever they were it was cold, becoming almost a bitter cold as they continued to travel in the night.
She looked up the sky and shivered slightly. The stars were nothing alike what she had seen. They were different sizes and colors and had made different shapes. "They are different," she spoke quietly, amazed at how truly different the other side of the world could be, but they were not what she had expected to see. Oddly, a place inside her, her soul perhaps, was not comforted by the position of the stars that night.
"They are so pretty," she whispered, despite not be reassured. Stars amazed her, gave her hope of something greater to life then the life she was living.
After a moment of silence as both sat in thought, Genocide looked to Erika, sadness still in her eyes, the hint of tears dabbing at the corners of her eyes, "That man who died....he treated me like I one of his own children. I never knew what it was like to have a father like that until he held me," she began to cry again, thinking thoughts far too deep for normal five year old children to think. "He used to tuck me in at night and read to me or let me play when no one was watching. He was kind to me. And sad when he those two guys in our cells. I think he wanted them to be free. I don't know why. I don't know why he was so nice. He was really nice. He used to bring me more cookies after bedtime when no one was watching."
Genocide turned back to the stars, unable to keep back her tears again, sobbing at her very cruel loss.....five years old only and losing both her mother and father figure all in a little longer then a years duration.
Azzan shook his head and watched the security forces leave, he immediately shut the door, disconnected the phone along with the tv power cord. He then pulled out a small black rod, he slowly trekked about his room searching for bugs that might not go squish when you crushed them. The room was clean except he noted that it might not always be the case, the fabled security network would have no problem finding a way to monitor him. Azzan took a deep breath, threw of his shoes and lay in bed. "Decisions to be made, a double edged sword on the table, what to do what to do?" he asked himself as he slid into a light sleep.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Slowly moving forward, creeping ever so slowly against the blackness of night, the large silver ship gleamed in the reflections of moonlight....a phantom traveling aimlessly through the oceans.
Following this majestic beast, a large fleet followed, dark figures in comparsion to their platinum counter partner. A safe distance behind their massive foe, Callisdrun's Navy traveled, moving at a crawl that was more then likely becoming imbearable to a fleet who was accustomed to traveling with speed.
Together, through the night, they traveled, entering the ocean property of European Free States, just moments from approaching their final destination....Whitecastle, the nation known for its chaotic and rampant past.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Sweat poured from his body, a hot sticky substance that thinly covered his body and soaked his hair, drops running down his hairline and collecting on a pillow which his head was slightly propped up onto. His body ached, feeling as if it were hit with a several ton cargo truck while the light fabric clung onto his body.
Desperately, he tried to open his eyes, hoping against all odds to see something other then complete darkness....darkness in which he never knew if his eyes were opened or closed. Immediately, he regretted this decision as a blinding light burned his eyes, causing them to tear up, adding more moisture to his already soaked clothing and bed.
Once he adjusted to the bright light, he took a look around him. He was in a massive room propped up in an ornate bedroom, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling was the cause of eye strain. He sat up in bed, feeling light-headed from the excertion and ill from a sudden burst of pain that tore through his abdomen.
Pulling himself out of bed, he crumpled onto the floor, unable to stand on his own two feet. The room was spinning now, vertigo from the residual effects of the narcotics and paralytics he was on. Gathering himself, he clutched onto the wall, falling into a bedside table and knocking the glass of water off it; the glass breaking instantly into shards which scattered across the cold ornate floor.
The doorways before him seemed so far as he gripped the wall for support like a drunken man. Frantically twisting the knob, he was finally able to open the door, which he desperately held onto as he inched his way out, closing his fingers in the door in the process. Reopening the door, he removed his fingers, enough time to hear voices down the hallway.
Fear and panic gripped him, clenching tightly around his heart. With not knowledge of where he was or what he was doing, be broke into a run down the opposite corridor from the voices, finding his body lurching forward beyond his control. Tumbling forward, his face struck the ground first, his arms out before him as if he were attempting to fly.
"What was that?" the voice asked quickly. A brief moment passed before the man's voice sounded again, "Damn, he's gone. Go find him!" it seemed to yell, the voice resounding off the corridor walls.
Struggling to get to his feet again, he broke out into a half crawl until he was able to get onto his feet, running down the corridor. Elevators spread before him and he stopped before them, holding the frames for support as he repeatidly pushed the button, hoping that it would perhaps open faster with his desperation.
When the doors open, Dante tumbled inward, grabbing at the keys on the way down. Watching the doors close from the ground, he sat, feeling the elevator spinning, which faded into a sudden plunging sensation. Holding the ground for his dear life, afraid to fall off of it. Once again he struggled to his feet as the doors opened, wasting no time in breaking into a run, right past the ambassador corridors.
Cutting a corner fast, he ran into three strong men, all wearing similiar black suits, reflective shades, and that tattoo. Twisting, he felt another wrenching pain tear through his abdomen, but it was not enough to stop him.
"Stop!" their voices bellowed, echoing all along the corridor, stirring the house guests.
Sending some soldiers ahead, the sound of trampling men followed in persuit of Dante as he fumbled with locked door after locked door.
Finally catching up with a tiring Dante, they grabbed his arms. He fought though, struggling against their grasps. Breaking free, he tried to run again, only to find himself face down on the floor, surrounded by a group of soldiers.
Grabbing one of the soldiers gun with a free arm, he fired a shot at one of his captors, sending the man instantly to the ground. By now, guests were starting to peer out their doors, curious about the excitement.
Another soldier, furious with the fight this man was putting up, a man who was moments ago said to be no threat at all to them, pulled out his gun and aimed it at Dante.
Seeing the gleam of metal over his head, Dante twisted his body and took another shot, causing the man to release the gun with a plethora of obsenities while falling to the ground grabbing his foot. Missing the man's head, Dante had rather hit the man's gun, causing the bullet to ricochet off the gun and hit the man's foot instead. Struggling against his captors still, he felt his face pressed to the elaborate carpet, a hand firmly grasping his hair and pressing his head forward. Feeling his hands seized and wrenched behind him, bound tightly by some sort or restraint, he still tried his hardest to get to his kneeds in an attempt to run.
But his head was yanked to the side and plunged with a needle. Letting out a slightly groan, the only sound other then his rapid breathing, Dante quickly felt his fight draining from him. He felt the cold fluid flow into his veins and pumped throughout his body. He felt tired, weak, unable to to even keep his eyes open any longer. Falling limply, the men lifted him like a dead weight, turning around to face an audience of curious people.
Azzan jumped, his body losing contact with the bed as his muscles sprang to life as he awoke to the tumult that was outside his door. He quickly inspected his clothing and exited his room and entered the scene that was quickly descalating. Several security agents were surrounding a man as a syringe was pulled out of his neck. Azzan looked him over, the man was pale as a sheet but well muscled and admirable in dimensions. His face was one with which Azzan should have been familiar, he had afterall gone through the trouble of placing most names with faces of the reich and the empire- both past and present, but he couldn't place the name. He strode forward, "Perhaps I could be of assistance? He looks like he just ran three marathons without a drop to drink afterall." Azzan carefully considered the security force, they looked truly concerned for the man and were infact trying to protect him from further harm.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Looking at this ambassador, one of the soldiers holding Dante shifted his heavy load and looked from one back to the other.
"FUCK! He shot my foot! He fucking shot my foot! Did you see that? He shot me!" the soldier laying on the ground holding his foot still shouted to whomever appeared to be listening.
Looking back to the unconscious Dante and to the soldier holding his foot, he moved from Dante, holding him up still. "Here, take him. Go with the rest to take him back to his room. Get him a drink or have one of the guards there get him fluids. I'll be up in a few. I'll go with him," the soldier said, motioning back with his head to the guy still cursing wildly on the floor.
Azzan nodded, he hefted his satchel which he had managed to grab and followed the containment squad up a flight of stairs before reaching a door emblazoned with the words "High Voltage- Keep Out" The squad ignored the warning and continued on through to a set of elevators. "So that's why I didn't see where you guys came from." Azzan half joked- he got no response. Azzan felt suddenly heavier as the elevator shot up to a floor Azzan hadn't seen before, it brimmed with officials, of both security and medical professions. The pale man was still breathing when he was put on a stretcher and escorted to the room in which he obviously received treatments.
Azzan walked forward into the room, he felt stares from people unfamiliar with this newcomer from another country. He shrugged them off and examined the gray man, Azzan took the pulse, listened for irregularities, then took out a vial of what looked like liquid silver. He swirrled it around and was greeted by a flash of red. "Good they're ready. I'm going to scan him if that's alright?" A young doctor nodded, unsure of what this foreigner planned to do- the security forces were even less enthused about letting this ambassador inject they're obvious client. Azzan took the special syringe from his satchel and took up some of the silver fluid. He looked around, if he didn't know better he would have sworn the security forces were going to kill him if he even so slightly as did something out of their supervision... then again, Azzan thought, maybe they will. He injected the silver fluid into his hand, the satchel hummed with activity, the nano's conforming to the contours of the endodermal structure of Azzan's left hand, latching on at the strong points between it and the muscles. Azzan waited impatiently, finally the satchel stopped humming as the screen inside came to life, the articial hyper senstive nerves responding to even the slightest pressure difference.
Azzan, smiled, the brand new model allowed for external, non invasive scanning- however the drawback was that it didn't allow for the detail as an injection of the nano would. Slowly he began to hover his hand over the gray man, and slowly vitals and images began pouring in of the areas his palm hover over.
Somewhere above the ocean, 40,000 feet in the air, near Whitecastle
Lt. Col. Ashok Gupta, Govindian Republican Air Force (GRAF) and squadron commander of the 17th Fighter Squadron, was nearing the nation of Whitecastle. There they would touch down and President Trevelyan would be meeting the leaders of surrounding nations, which had just ended some war that had been occurring.
"Tiger Leader to Tiger Squadron," he said over the radio, "deactivate stealth features now. We're about 15 minutes away from the landing strip."
"Aye, sir, deactivating," said his wingman, Maj. Rajan Kumar, Tiger Two, and assistant squadron commander. "Hopefully this operation will go well like the others, Bengal?" Bengal was Ashok's call sign.
"We'll have to see, Bagheera," said Ashok, responding back with Rajan's call sign. "Every time we're on an escort mission, we just hope that it's always a smooth ride. I don't have any reason to doubt otherwise."
Air Force One and her escort of 12 F-22A Raptor stealth fighters from the 17th Fighter Squadron, nicknamed Tiger Squadron, began approaching Whitecastle airspace. By now, all of the fighters had turned off their stealth features so that the radar control could ID them as friendlies.
Capt. Sivgli Ashur, GRAF and captain of Air Force One, switched on the radio as he was piloting the plane towards Whitecastle.
"This is Capt. Sivgli Ashur, pilot and captain of Air Force One, carrying the President of Govindia, requesting landing clearance at the nearest civilian or military airbase for this aircraft and our fighter escort. Leaders from other nations and your country are expecting him, where he will land in about 15 minutes from now," Sivgli stated, looking at his watch, as he waited for their response.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Standing unseen and unknown from the corner of the room, well hidden between a large ornate statue and the thick fabric curtains, Code Six watched this new man closely, studying his every move. This man worked deligently under pressure, especially against the glares and uncertianities of the soldiers and personal who gathered in this room.
In the mean time, the effects of the injection were beginning to wear off, causing Dante to begin to groan and pull away from those touching him. He was still too weak to fight off anyone and easily overpowered with some minor force. However, it did not stop him from conitinuously trying to break free.
When Dante finally came to, the effects of the medication completely disappated, he felt all his limbs tightly restrained in four points. Anger filled him, the rage that burned within. For too long he had spent time in captivity by unknown enemies. His eyes filled with the rage, the dark pools filled with the burning rage inside as he glared at the man closest to him, wanting to blast his head off. His heart picked up in pace, pounding in his chest as the very pits of his stomach burned with the raging inferno inside.
Dante clenched his jaw tightly, containing the outburst of rage welling inside. If had just one free hand, he would instantly satisify that urge to rip a person into two. But right now, he had to resign to the somplete powerlessness and loss of control that was plaguing him. Unless....he thought....he could get free.
With a sudden burst of energy, Dante wrenched his hands from the restraints, instantly meeting resistance as they did not break or tear with his strength. Fighting still, he arched his back, trying to push himself onto his side, only to dislocate his shoulder in the process. Stuck beneath the painful dislocated and twisted body of his still tightly bound to the bed, he felt his insides burn with pure hatred. Still clenching his jaws, unable to move from his current twisted position with his arm bent at an awkward angle behind his back, he refused to even mutter a word, merely clenching his jaw tightly.
His eyes met the corner of the room, gathering just a hint of reflection from the glasses, a sight only he could see having known to check there by instinct. He allowed himself to be rolled into a proper position, staring at the ceiling as not to draw attention to the corner of the room. What he saw he did not want anyone else to see.....as visions of being attacked in his own home flooded his memories, the feel of hands around his throat, bones breaking, death looming in the air behind the cascading sheets of bullets from both ends.
Noticing the child's shivering, Erika took off her coat and wrapped it around Genocide, drawing her close. Like the girl, the nurse looked to the sky. The constellations she knew were in slightly different positions from where they could be seen at home. To her, the night was only somewhat chilly, having grown up in such a frigid land.
She loved the ocean, but still, always missed home. Going to sea had its drawbacks. It was always frustrating to try and catch up with everything back home after returning.
It would feel rude and inconsiderate to her, to interrupt what Genocide was saying about the unnamed man who had treated her with such kindness. When the girl spoke no more but instead was crying softly, Erika hugged her more tightly. She must feel terrible... the nurse thought, trying to think of something to say. "He sounds like he was a good man." Who were those two men she had mentioned? Were they significant?. Somehow, it seemed wrong to try to pry information out of her at a time like this. "Perhaps he wanted the two men to be free because he thought they deserved to be, or he just wanted people to be happy," she mused.
"Fuck, by the gods that thing moves slow," Erzsebet swore under her breath before she ordered the engines' power cut once again. It was particularly annoying since the speed that the Genocide appeared to be going was somewhere in between the speed the minimum level of engine power would generate and the speed produced by the second level of engine power. At this low of engine output, the settings were quite imprecise on the Ithtyr, such low settings meant only for docking and other movements within the confines of a harbor, not the open ocean.
Every ship had flaws, and Ithtyr was no exception. Its designers had not foreseen a situation like this one, the ship had been built, like all the battle cruisers, to rapidly hunt down and destroy smaller warships and merchant vessels. The battle fleet is probably having a better time trailing us... the vampiress thought. The great dreadnoughts of the battle fleet were quite a bit slower than First Cruiser Squadron, so they probably found the slow pace easier to keep constant. Not much longer anyway. Navigation showed them near European Free States, approaching their destination, Whitecastle. Erzsebet looked out across the sea. In the distance, she could see Genocide, its shining surface making it look like a ghost in the dim light. She wondered if the battleship's crew could see her squadron's ships. If so, it would be difficult, barely discernible shapes, darkness within darkness.
Azzan didn't even flich, some of the more violent patients he had had to deal with were in much better shape than this man, and would have gotten away with murder if it hadn't been for constant vigilance of the signs of conflict. "Well he seems to be stable as far his vitals go... well for what passes for stable with him." He glanced around the room, checking each face into his memory then continued to work on the now twisted patient, the jaws were clenched and the body itself seemed to tense up as Azzan neared the shoulder. Azzan shook his head, the sly dog is a wolf in sheeps clothing he thought to himself as he put his hands into position. "I'm sorry I have to do this-"
He pushed down on the clavicle, the security forces pulled their weapons as several doctors gasped. For a moment, Azzan felt like he was about to die himself, he let off the pressure and was greated by the light breathing of a forced sleep. The officers around him visably relaxed as they recognized the basic technique. Azzan smirked, bunch of dunder heads should have recognized he'd still be violent. Azzan then popped the shoulder into place and stood back as he let the personnel take over of the situation. "Just keep him steady and he should be back to his normal violent self in no time... my advice: try to avoid letting him move."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Slipping into a world of darkness once again, Dante lost all control over his body as he plunged into that dark abyss of unconsciousness.
When the soldiers and guards saw what had happened, they questioned Azzan with their gazes, wondering who he was and why he was here. No one had called for medical assistance, so why was this stranger here.
Watching silently from his corner, Code Six carefully watched this man. "Perfect," he thought to himself, watching Azzan's every move and approach the unfolding situation.
Once Azzan finished his work, a soldier stepped up to him, requesting authorization to be in this room. "Who are you? Who gave you permission to be here?" his voice sounded, prying into the very situation.
"I did," one of the senior soldiers announced, commanding respect from those who entered the room as he had just entered the scene. Bearing the mark of an Elite, he stepped forward, a clean and sharp young man, he extended his hand forward. "I see you have taken care of this situation. Thank you. I will escort you back to you room," the man spoke, a voice that confirmed he was in a position of respect and power.
Azzan nodded, "Thanks aren't necessary." Azzan shouldered his satchel and followed the senior officer down an entirely different path than the one he came up in. The officer remained quiet until they set foot in the ambassador's hall, Azzan didn't complain he enjoyed quiet. The grandfather clock tolled 11 at night, Azzan held in yawn as the captain opened the door to Azzan's apartment. He leaned in and in a low voice, "Thanks again... Potentate of Anceltierre" Azzan smirked, "Call me Azzan." and with that Azzan closed the door and retired for the night.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Genocide continued to cry until she could cry no longer. This whole event was too much for her and her five year old brain could barely comprehend half of it. Feeling completely exhausted after crying, she continued to look at the stars until her heavy eyelids closed on her....curled into the arms of Erika feeling safe for the briefest of moments, a safety that was sure to be short lived as her life was soon to be complicated as a war prisioner.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
When all had departed from the room seeing Dante asleep and well restrained, Code Six slipped from his corner, nonchalantly walking forward. He locked the door before moving over to Dante's bed, sitting on the edge, his right arm slung up, the finger tips hanging limply from the edge of the cloth.
Using his good hand, he flicked his fingers, they moved and lifelessly fell back to their original position.....he had felt none of it. Still trying to decide what he should do about the dead arm, Code Six spent his free time wondering if he should keep it attached or remove it again.
Waiting patiently and uninterrupted until the breathing he was listening attentively too grew more rapid and movement issued from the bed, Code Six turned to Dante, who was still fighting sleep from his eyes.
When Dante was fully awake, he tested his arms and legs, finding he could not budge them the slightest bit this time. His eyes met Code Six's reflective shades, the rage that burned within his staring right back at him. But he looked past that, as if staring into Code Six's very eyes.
If Code Six had been able to experience and comprehend emotions, a chill might have run up his spine. Dante was the only person who could ever look past his own eyes to see a Reich Freedom Fighter.
Letting out a small cough to clear his throat from a long period of time without use, Code Six stared straight back at Dante, both men's gazes locked. His voice came out deep and emotionless, not even a slightest hint of emotion could be heard, "Dante. We meet again. I should have guessed you would know to look for me. You have evaded us very well for years now. I am impressed. We never did find your body in the rubble of your base. We assumed you were alive or your body being privately buried. Knowing you I assumed you were alive."
Dante merely stared, not saying a word, whether or not by choice was too difficult to tell.
"Do you value your life Dante?" Code Six asked to replace the silence, knowing small talk was not going to work with the infamous Dante.
"We need you Dante. Your presence is needed to reunite your empire. Everyone believes you to be dead. A whisper has started to spread rumoring otherwise, but it is not enough to convince your empire to even look for you. Steps have been taken in your unconsciousness. The Reich has surrendered. Whitecastle is hosting a summit. You will be head of this summit and represent your empire. You will take back your empire. To this you have no choice," Code Six ordered, stating very clearly Dante's expectations. "We have your life. If you fail to bring together your empire we have other ways to accomplish our plans," he added as an after thought, removing three large vials of dark red sanguine fluid, clearly Dante's blood.
Dante knew these men and that whatever they had planned could not have been good. But it was not an issue of compliance, he knew this. With The Reich Freedom Fighters it was foolish to debate whether or not you should do their biddings. He knew from experience the debate and hope was what he could gain for himself through their plans.
Moments of silence passed between them as both respected the other's thoughts.
"Let me understand this," Dante finally spoke, his voice coming out as the smooth deep voice that turned heads. "You want me to be the figurehead again? Reunite my empire and make my presence known?"
Code Six merely nodded.
"Where is she?" Dante asked, his stare hard, appearing to stare right through the reflective shades.
Code Six stood up at that comment, obviously Dante was more clever then he had anticipated, but he should have anticipated it. Dante was more then the figurehead of The Elite Empire.
"You know I cannot tell you that Dante," Code Six merely stated, pacing back and forth next to Dante's bed.
"I will do this under the condition she is returned home and unharmed. Leave her out of this Six. There are other ways to hold leverage over me," Dante warned, his voice become darker and more serious.
Removing his glasses for a moment, Code Six brushed his eyes with the back of his hand, his back to Dante. "Agreed."
"This is the end, isn't it?" Dante asked again, starting to feel uncomfortable from the tightness of his restraints.
"Do you want to say goodbye?" Code Six asked, not understanding why people felt the need to do this pathetic ritual.
Dante tried to twist his wrist, swearing he could smell her hair for just a briefest moment. "I...." he fumbled, his weakness finally revealed.
"You need to rest right now," Code Six's ice cold voice chilled the air. Replacing his glasses, he removed a knife and walked over to Dante, beginning to cut the restraints around his wrists and legs. "Do not put up another struggle or they will not let you free."
Pulling out another needle, filled with a whitish blue fluid which Dante instantly recognized, Code Six flicked the fluid, pushing out any bubbles from the syringe.
Turning his head without a fight, Dante allowed Code Six easy access. However, Code Six took Dante's arm and injected it into the vein on his arm. Unable to understand this act coming from Code Six, Dante tried hard to think of something to say, but it was not long before his thoughts became cloudly and his body weak. "I have to piss," he mumbled as his eyes started to close beyond his control.
Feeling somehow guilty for making the child cry, though she didn't know what exactly the source of Genocide's sobbing was, Erika held the girl tightly and rocked slightly back and forth. Finally, her patient's tears seemed to run out and she gazed at the sky until sleep took her. Hopefully to a more pleasant place... the nurse thought, wondering what sorts of trauma Genocide had endured in the few years of life she'd had so far.
The stars moved gradually across the sky as the planet turned. Erika gazed at them, wondering briefly if anyone near one of those twinkling lights was gazing back as she waited for the girl to be in a deep enough sleep to move her to her bed without waking her. The panorama of the starlit heavens made her feel small in some ways. Humanity was small, by comparison to the universe, as were their wars against each other. Her mind drifted off in thought that bordered on the philosophical until a loud laugh by one of the other crew members brought her back around. Clenching her teeth in the effort, she picked up Genocide and made her way slowly back down to the room, laying the girl into bed gently and then covering her except for her head in a thick blanket.
A thought occurred to her before she left through the door. Getting out a pencil, she wrote a note in their common language for Genocide, telling her that she had gone to her own bed and would be back in the morning. Erika didn't want the child to feel abandoned. With that, she left and went to her own quarters, which, of course, were in one of the communal bunk rooms where privacy was almost nonexistent. In some ways, Genocide was lucky. The child didn't have to sleep in the same room as almost thirty other men and women (obviously there were many more on the crew, but sleeping quarters were divided into rooms that held about thirty to avoid having large open spaces vulnerable to catastrophic flooding in battle). She undressed, hanging her red uniform up on the end of the bunk before sliding in between the sheets. The crew quarters weren't the most tranquil of sleeping places. As she drifted off to sleep, she could hear distantly the lapping of the water and the low steady rumble of the engines, which would have been soothing sounds, were they not accompanied by various distant clanks and bangs, as well as the occasional soft whimpers and moans of lovers somewhere else in the room. No, privacy was not in abundance aboard the light carrier Alfheim. Even so, it did not take long for the tired Erika to drift off to sleep.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
A soft rapping startled the sleeping members inside the ornate bedroom, who had all through the course of the day drifted into a long and restful sleep....one in which none of them knew during their days in The Dictatorship. Outside The Dictatorship was life, living creatures that passed day by day in the mundane.....creatures who did not spend their days in a hightended sense of awareness in order to save their lives from unknown evils that plagued the lands time and time again.
Walking across the room quietly to try not to disturb the others sleeping, Tresckow opened the door, which surprisingly did not creak as he had expected it to. "What can I do for you sir?" Tresckow asked kindly, straightening his stance some at the sight of Jim.
"You're to be informed that we're almost there. Your presence is being requested above. Uniforms have been transferred in from your home towns. We've contacted fellow allies of yours," he said, staring sharply in Tresckow's eyes while handing him suit bag that was by now quite heavy.
"Thank you sir," Tresckow bowed his head in respect before retreating back into the room with the bag in hand.
Removing a uniform that was surprisingly the same uniform as he had worn during his leadership of The Supreme Council, Tresckow let out a silent laugh, surprised by how unpredictable their enemies could be, both good and bad.
Removing his own garments from earlier, he slipped into the uniform, remarking in how comfortable it had felt compared to what he had just climbed out of. Fully dressed, he awoke Alex, who had a more difficult time awakening.
Alex, who had been aroused from a deep sleep, fought the spinning feeling and shaking that suddenly overtook his body. His eyes had a hard time focusing in the dim light of the room, a slight nystagmus presenting as the image of Tresckow standing before him rapidly shook back and forth.
"Are we there?" he asked tiredly, trying hard to stand up.
"Almost son, almost. We are requested above. Let's get you dressed," he said, helping Alex into a uniform much similiar to the one he had worn when he had suffered his heart attack that lended him in this condition, a condition of utter weakness from a failing heart and liver, from the central line infusion of grain alcohol that Levia had lovingly given him in his fragile state.
Both dressed, they departed the room, Tresckow acting as a crutch for Alex. The sky was a hue of grey blending into purple and black and the air was brisk and fresh, unlike the air that hung heavily of death and despair. They walked the length of the ship to the stern of the ship, seeing no one present at all. Stopping for Alex to catch his breath, they leaned against a railing and stared at the waters below and the sky in the horizon, the softening hues of colors as the night gave birth to a new day.
"Beautiful mornings here," the voice came from behind as Jim stepped out of the still shadows.
"Yes, it is, wonderful mornings in Whitecastle," Tresckow agreed, trying not to show a hint of curiosity at this man's presence. He was beginning to suspect that Jim had held a greater role then a mere soldier or crew worker among Genocide.
"I called you up here to see this. We are a nation of rebirth. We each morning we are reminded of our greater purpose....to let go of the past and welcome a new day. Nights are times here that we lament and grieve our days, where we remember our pasts, where we try to piece together the mysteries of life. But in the day, that all fades to nothing as we are grateful to be here another fine day. I hope you'll get that same feeling when you watch our majestic sunrises. I'd hate to see you enter Whitecastle carryin' the baggage you brought from The Dictatorship," Jim offered, turning away before either had a chance to respond.
Processing his words, they both turned back to the horizon and watched the sun softened sky, watched as the greys turned slightly pink before giving way to a brilliant light that shone off each ripple and wave of the ocean, hitting the side of Genocide and sending a glimmer of light rippling down the massive liner as the sunlight spilled over the remained of the ship. At a loss of words, they felt the instant relief of great suffering, a burden lifted from their shoulders. It was as Jim had said, a rebirth.
Filling their souls with the sun, for the first time in a long time, smiles crept across their faces as they took one look at each other and laughed that it took them to their enemies hands to finally value their own lives and appreciate the very gift of life.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
As they approached nearer to their destination, a great city of ancient buildings spread across the shore, a brilliant white scene as the sun shone off each one of those houses and sections of the city, blending modern day with their histories, incorperating a reflection of history in their daily lives.
Slowing down, if that were possible, the large ship took another ten minutes before completely stopping. As the sun shone off the massive canons, sending a glimmering light over the city, a large alarm sounded within Sector 0000.
The alarm overtook the serene silence of the morning, as entire familes rushed to the streets to see Genocide arrive. This mysterious ship whose presence marked major events in the city, aroused excitement among the people of Whitecastle. Banners flew, dancing in the early morning breezes, as balloons and various other decorations lined the city. It was a moment that they welcomed, a celebration.
Few could contain their excitement, jumping up and down, running down the docks to be among the first present to see their guests. Children pulled the hands of mothers to get them to move faster as fathers merely laughed, enjoying the moment as equally as the rest. Together, the citizens of Whitecastle stood united as they waited for the arrival of these new people, foreigners whom many have only heard stories of.
Aboard Air Force One
Govindian President Alec Trevelyan sat in his personal quarters on the plane as the plane and its escort made its approach to Whitecastle. He studied the dossiers on all that was given for the conference. Complete trivial crap.
Not much is known about any of them. The request for information on the leaders, much less anything about these nations, was denied, and Pyro had no assets available that could be used without risking capture, or worse. All he knew was that he was attending a summit that would outline the terms of surrender from some horrendous war. This would probably have been the 4th or so he'd have been to.
Alec sighed and threw the reports back on the desk. The Governor General of Marionetsvia was going to attend, but matters at home prevented that. His Vice President was going to attend another conference back at home, after legislation on medical reform finally cleared the hurdles in the Senate.
Marionetsvia would be handed over to one of these local empires. While Govindia no longer controlled them, they would still be under the rule of someone else, and again by proxy. He just wished that he would not have to regret the decision later. Last thing he wanted to do was send 4 carrier battle groups and several million troops to correct a decision.
Alec heard a loud bump as the plane landed on the airstrip they were cleared. He watched through the window as the pilots from his fighter escort, who already landed ahead earlier, were setting up a perimeter around both their fighters and Air Force One.
A few minutes later, Alec, his Defence Minister, and his External Affairs Minister, followed by his Govindian Secret Service detail, stepped out of the plane, as other GSS agents took up positions around the 747. He noticed a well-dressed man approaching to greet him and his entourage. Perhaps he was part of the security team here, or a chief diplomat. Alec waved a hand. Well, he thought, this is where it could end for Govindia and Marionetsvia. We shall see.
Azzan had just begun his second cup of tea, a rich earl grey, when everyone seemed to vanish into the streets. Apparently, guests had arrived and Whitecastle citizens wanted to be graced by the presence of those from across the vast distance between them. Azzan shook his head disapprovingly, "No sense in wasting good tea." he muttered. They were going to have to wait as a fleet would have it's own precautions before even letting a boat dock in a foraign harbor. Azzan sipped at his tea till he was, at last, at the dregs. "Well, I guess that's my cue." he mused to himself in the empty room. He briskly walked out into the streets and walked down the way to the docks, at a leisurely pace.
However, he seemed to have timed it down to the minute of the disembarking. Security officials spotted him and ushered by the scruff of his collar- much to the protest of Azzan, to the receiving platform with the other dignitaries. He sighed, "A protozoa is handled better than I am."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Blades whirled to life from the ship stopped in midocean, the hum of them reaching the shores of Sector 0000.
Alex and Tresckow stood on the deck still, watching as the streets bustled with life....a life unexistant in The Dictatorship. It was a welcoming sight, pleasent, and heart warming. Tapped on the back, Tresckow turned around to see Jim standing there, himself in full uniform of black with green trimmings, the crest of an Elite marking his left breast, and matching green gloves over his hands. "Let's go," he said, motioning the helicopter ready to go on the deck of Genocide.
Helping Alex aboard the helicopter, they lifted off, traveling toward Sector 0000, hoovering slightly over a landing pad specifically designed for boarding and unboarding the crew of Genocide.
Landing, the blades still spun momentarily as eager citizens crowded to get a first glimpse of their foreign guests. However, they sat in the helicopter for a few moments, only hightening the anticipation.
"When you get out, it'll be maddenin'. Stick together. A guard has been assigned to each of you. He'll keep track on you until we get to the quarters. Don't anger the people. They're passionate," Jim quickly debriefed them before opening the door, allowing a rush of fresh salty air to fill the helicopter. A defeaning roar sounded at the sight of Jim, a soldier of Whitecastle who was well respected in his community and nation, known for his punctuality and no bullshit attitude.
Behind him stepped Major General Henning von Tresckow, with the bravado and experience of a war general without of course being a general. He commanded respect in his polite and easy manner. Holding out a hand, with the help of Jim, they both helped Alex Ruhmunah out of the helicopter, the frail man whose once deep olive colored skin had paled from his recent injuries, giving him a sickly undertone to his fragile state.
Being greeted by a roar from the crowds of people, they followed Jim forward who stopped before Azzan, waiting silently for Azzan to introduce himself to them.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
After receiving word of another approaching ambassador, the soldiers gather, waiting for the arrival to reach the gate. They waited for their cue, a soldier stationed to receive the ambassador and lead him past them. As he exitted the area, walking past the soliders as if they were unexistant, the team surrounded his entourage, making it impossible for anyone to leave.
Walking up behind Alec, the guard hastily grasped Alec and spread him into position, quickly patting the man down in the process. "Clear," he said, as the others chimed in to verify the clearence of the others in his group.
Guiding them to a car, the let the men into the car before driving them the quarters where they would meet the rest of the oncoming ambassadors....the streets empty. Looking down though, you could see the entire city gathered along the shore line, obviously more concerned with the unfolding matters there.
Azzan curtly smiled, as was his duty. He rarely actually smiled at someone so he kept it brief before extending his right hand to men coming up, his right hand was still a bit sensitive from being injected, so it jerked a bit as his clasp was met by the men of distinction. "It's nice to see, I'm in the company of of equals. My name is Azzan," he leaned in in what would appear as an exchange between political forces, "and despite what you may think, I was sincerely dragged up to this horse and pony show." He leaned back and smiled as he continued the facade of another face among the many gleeful crowds.
"Fucking let me sleep..." Erzsebet groaned as she heard frantic knocking on the door of her tiny cabin on board her flagship, the Ithtyr. It was far too early for her tastes, especially since she had been up late the previous night. Looking at the clock, she swore again. "What is it?"
A muffled reply came from the other side of the door. "It looks like we're wherever the destination was, the battleship has slowed and is coming to a stop."
Struggling to get up faster, the vampiress bumped her head on shelves for her things that sat above the bed. This, of course, brought a fresh stream of highly colorful vocabulary from her pale lips. Space was in short supply on board the battle cruiser, and it was just as true for the commander as for a common sailor. Erzsebet clumsily swung her feet around over the edge of the bunk and threw on a loose shirt, pants and pulled on her socks. After lacing up her boots, she straightened her hair a bit, pulling it into a ponytail and opened the door. In striding out, she almost bumped into the sailor and nearly fell. "You didn't see that," she said, almost sighing, in a self-deprecating manner.
Once on the bridge, she could see that indeed, the Genocide had almost stopped. It must have started slowing quite some time ago, given its great inertia. Erzsebet then saw what was beyond the great dreadnought, the gleaming white city beyond. The light reflected hurt her eyes and she grimaced in the discomfort of it. "Can you get me my sunglasses, please?" she asked the sailor. "They're in the top drawer of the dresser to the left. Don't open the right one."
In a minute, she was much more comfortable, viewing the scene through light diminishing lenses. Thinking for less than a minute, the admiral gave the squadron orders to surround the shining behemoth they had trailed.
As they approached, she could make out people lining the shores of the city. The wind carried sounds of celebration to her ears. The realization that they were celebrating their victory, the enemy victory pained her. For just an instant, Erzsebet felt the desire to order the entire feet to fire on the happy people in the city, to destroy their joy and in its place sow carnage and woe. It passed, thankfully. She was not a woman without morality.
Still, the vampiress kept glancing back toward the sparkling city. It was strange to her eyes, totally foreign. Callisdrun, though its people could be described as happy and life-loving, was a land of darkness and cruel cold. Continuous tragedy throughout the ages, had affected the culture somewhat as well.
I wonder what they think of us Erzsebet thought as the dark forms of the battle cruisers slowed to a stop, enclosing the bright, silvery Genocide between them, with Ithtyr herself closest to the battleship, quite visible from the shore. The black ship against the platinum colored one was quite a contrast. Callisdrunian battle cruisers could be called beautiful in the grace which their designers had imparted their forms... but there was no attempt to gloss over what they were... their inky shapes looked every inch like instruments of darkness and destruction. Erzsebet wasn't sure if their hulls were more menacing after sundown when they could hardly be seen or in broad daylight where they looked as if they were small islands of night that persisted despite the sun's warmth and light.
The vampiress herself merely thought, First Cruiser squadron having followed her orders and not having any further ones. Erzsebet stepped outside and watched what was going on, her gaze shifting from the city she saw on the shore of what must be Whitecastle to the ship she'd been following for some time now.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow stepped forth and shook Azzan's hand firmly with a gentle smile spreading across his face as he felt the return handshake.
"Hello Azzan, I am Major General Henning von Tresckow, head of The Supreme Council here within The Reich. This here is the young Master Alex Ruhumunah," he spoke as he guided his freehand toward Alex, who still fought to stand with each breeze that issued, "he is heir to the Ruhumunah family, which you may know through his father Atticus, a very fine gentleman of this region. May his soul rest in peace. I also have other accompanying me, some shall be brought later. They may introduce themselves as they please," he offered kindly, not pressing the issue to anyone who desired anonymity.
Walking with Azzan at his side, they walked to the cars which had arrived to transport them to their quarters. Normally Tresckow would resign to walk through the streets, but with Alex's condition, he did not want to make it more evident that Alex was far too weak. Driving would have to do until Alex regained his strength.
Their drive was rather short, filled with small talk designed to get a better feel for each other. When they arrived, they stepped out in front of the large building before them, an old building, neatly designed, with pillars spreading down the length of it. It was as if walking into history almost, a history so preserved by these people, yet with a touch of elegant technology and modern day. It was clear that these people were accustomed to a lifestyle far different from that of The Reich's, preservation of the past with integration of the future....hard to accomplish such a perfect blend as they have.
Admiring their work, Tresckow complimented the Whitecastle officials escorting them. He was thoroughly impressed by what he had seen of Whitecastle; people who almost instantly disregarded the war to welcome them into their city. A culture designed around preservation with people who looked past themselves for the greater good. Was this a product of Dante's reign or did Dante harness this level of commitment for his own personal gains? It was a question plaguing his mind. Dante was known to have loyal undying support from the people of his empire, but how he achieved that was never known to The Reich.
Escorted to the Ambassador wing, Tresckow found his room across the hall from Azzan, Alex's room next to his. Helping Alex into his room, Tresckow sat on the edge of the bed and looked to Alex.
"We will have lunch with the other Ambassadors and discuss goals before the summit. Are you well enough to attend or do you need your rest?" he asked, concerned that perhaps he was pushing Alex too far.
Alex, holding onto the bedpost for support, looked to Tresckow, feeling somehow inadequate. "I'll be fine," he spoke quietly, a voice he had to adopt to conserve his energy. "I think I need something to eat and I will want to see these Ambassadors before the meeting. I need to understand them better."
"My thoughts exactly. I will let you rest for now. I shall call for you when we are ready," he said with a polite nod before leaving the room, dismissing himself from Alex.
Entering his own room, Tresckow sat on a chair near the window, staring out over the impressive city laid out before him. These people were an inspiration to him, and he smiled with the thought that despite the war, they went on living.
Azzan saw the newcomers off then crossed the floor to his own room and began calling up the project heads back in Anceltierre. The nano scopic machines had gotten a name- Small Miracles. Azzan chuckled, the marketing team never ceased to amaze him with brilliant cliches. "Then I suppose they're ready for mass distribution if they've come up with a name." The reply came, "Just waiting for potentate approval" Azzan nodded, "Consider it approved" And with that Anceltierre leaped into a great age of medicine.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Slipping from his room, Tresckow knocked lightly on the door to his right, suprised to find that Alex had opened it. Alex had stepped back allowing him room to enter, but Tresckow remained the corridor, beckoning Alex from the room.
"Shall we go now?" his soft spoken polite voice asked kindly.
"In a moment," Alex responded weakily, rushing to the bed of his room to grab the jacket of his uniform. He haphazardly swung his arms into it, trying to hastily button it, trying to make himself at last minute more presentable.
Walking across the hall, Tresckow knocked firmly on another Ambassador's door, Azzan, who had joined them at the docks. It would be a pleasent experience to ask him to join them in their lunch. Azzan in his simple ways seemed more complex to Tresckow and it invoked a natural curiosity within him.
Azzan had just set down the phone after the last of his calls to the program heads of Anceltierre. All seemed well at home, the people were still racing ahead in their respective fields and the other potentates were holding steady with the his absence, so he let himself smile a bit more freely as he looked through the peep hole to see who had knocked on his door. He opened it and a nodded his head in approval, the man certainly looked the part of a great leader- wether it was the truth or a grand illusion, Azzan cared not to guess with someone who commanded military forces...atleast not yet anyway. "It's good to see you again so soon- what's the ocassion?" he asked with a slight smirk as he spotted Alex across the hall.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"We have decided to have a lunch, would you care to join us? I prefer to have some time to learn about fellow Ambassadors before being thrust in a single room with then for hours on end. This is nothing formal, just some small talk," Tresckow offered, his kind and welcoming smile spreading across his face, like a grandfather who extended his loving embrace to all.
Azzan paused as he thought about it but his stomach betrayed him as it growled its displeasure at being empty. "Well I suppose I could take you up on the offer, if I don't I'd not be responsible for my stomach's actions." he smiled brightly and with that the three were off, walking through the the well lit grand halls, topped with chandeliers, and lined with busts of historic famous whitecastle citizens till finally coming to the exit of the Ambassadors hall and into the streets, "No offense but eating in the same place can get quite mundane so I've resorted to going into the city for meals." He nodded in the direction of a medium sized restaurant that seemed to offer comfort both in food and atmosphere, "I hope this will be ok for both of you?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Striding alongside Azzan, but clevely following his lead, Tresckow talked with Azzan as they made their way to a nearby resturant. They traveled up a small flight of stairs leading into the main hall of this resturant, a simple and yet lavish resturant carved out of stone.
Instantly recognized as ambassadors by their uniforms, the manager was summoned from inside the inner workings of this resturant. He came out and promptly greated them while escorting them to a table in the center of the room along the far wall.
The booths and table were stone, but accompanied with very comfortable and ornate cushions that made up for the solid harshness of the stone. Tresckow slid into the curved booth, allowing Alex to sit on the end to prevent unnecessary exertion.
Sliding into the booth, Alex tried to hide the fatigue in his face, the overwhelming tiredness that had overtaken him since his near fatal heart attack. His heart was weak, he could feel it in each beat, struggling to push blood through his body after such a traumatic jolt. Trying to remain as discrete as possible, Alex slipped a small pill into his mouth from the bag he carried with him everywhere he went. He moved slowly, trying not to call too much attention to himself, avoiding any sudden movements that would draw the attention of this new ambassador. He found himself grateful that Tresckow so raptly held Azzan's attention in a conversation about politics.
After tucking the bottle back into the bag at his side, Alex slid his hand to his menu, barely noticable by the both. Looking over the options, he waited for the pill to kick in, holding his breath as a steady clenching gripped his heart. When it resided, he let out his breath, and ran a hand through his hair, realizing that it was probably disarrayed from his brief nap.
"I think I'll have this," he said, placing the menu on the table and pointing to an item not in a familiar language, masking his weaknesses well at that very moment....planning it all up to just a difficult decision to make for a lunch.
Tresckow smiled and curtly nodded. "Sounds excellent. Shall we order?" he asked, looking to Azzan, awaiting a cue to call the waitress.
Azzan despite enjoying the conversation, he couldn't help but notice that Alex was hiding something, his unease permeated the area around him as he hid his face with the menu, but soon resigned back into that reserved appearance that bothered Azzan so much. He looked at the young man's choice, a smoked trout, "Good choice, I think I'll have the same" he turned his attention to Tresckow, "Yes I believe I'm ready." A young woman seemed to appear out of nowhere came to them with drinks and took orders. When she was gone he broke a slight silence, "What do they have him on?" he indicated Alex, ignoring the surprised looks he went on, "It is obvious, you aren't well Alex, you can't fool a doctor" Azzan smiled self satisfied as Alex's agape mouth proved him right.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Realizing that Alex allowed himself to show shock, he stifled a flurry of facial expressions and ran his hand through his hair again, trying to place something vaguely familiar about the person who sat before him. After a moment of staring, a moment he considered too long, Alex leaned back into the cushioned surface of the booth and lowered his gaze to convey a sense of discomfort with the subject. It was natural of course to be uncomfortable, afterall, he was supposed to be a man of power and prestige.
Tresckow looked to Alex and placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "He is a friend son. You may speak openly," his kind voice softened the mood.
Alex regained eye contact with Azzan, taking a deep breath to steady the increasing pounding in his chest. He grabbed the black bag from his side and placed it onto his lap, searching through its contents to remove a small glass bottle which he handed to Azzan. "You saw me take this. It is nitroglycerin....a primitive means to treat my condition, but the only one available at the time," Alex spoke barely above a whisper to conserve energy. "In fact, here," he offered, taking the bag from his lap and handed it to Azzan, "this is all they have me on."
Unwilling to fully delve into the story that led him to this vile state, Alex took a sip of his drink, a simple glass of water. He let the coolness refresh his throat as a subtle throbbing began in his head, a side effect of the damned medication.
Azzan inspected the globules within the bag, "So... it was your heart." He nodded, "I hope you don't mind me being blunt, but while this may help for now it will hardly help in the long run." He gave a sidelong look at Tresckow, seeking a hint of approval from the aged lion, "Part of the reason I've launched Anceltierre onto the world stage is because we have created a break in the wall of modern medicine... small miracles as the PR calls them," he smiled to himself and continued, "They should be able to help you... but we can discuss it at another time." As if by clockwork the young woman reappeared with their meals and again she was gone in a flash. Azzan handed Alex the glycerin back, "Just make sure not to hide these kind of problems from a doctor again, you're a bad liar." He smiled slightly as he took a bite of the smoked trout, letting the sweet and salty tastes run through his mouth, creating a kaliedoscope upon his palate.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex merely shrugged, knowing his time would come before a permenant solution could take effect. He felt it long ago, knowing his part in a grander picture was transient as well, a mere pawn in this game that would serve its purpose and be claimed. He had barely survived his brush with death and since knew it would be only a matter of time before the grasping hands of the other world took him....and he felt only a slight flash of anger at the thought that Levia had hastened that process, injecting him with her damn alcohol.
Unconsciously at that thought, his hand traveled up the port within his chest, as he felt the tubes beneath his uniform. His uniform may have hidden them from the view of everyone else, but his mind had not, and despite the thick fabric covering them, he could still mentally feel each port that was a ticket to death in the hands of an enemy. All it would take was one of those syringes he carried with him and one of those potent concoctions and his very life would collapse quickly onto the floor.
The thought would have bothered him had he not already experienced it. The death would be quick, sudden, he'd barely process it before he was gone....that thought reassured him as he placed a single bite of his fish into his mouth, a sense of inner calm and peace spreading over him.
Tresckow could not help but notice the interaction between the two. Alex had composed himself well enough, he thought as he himself enjoyed his lunch, but the calm that spread over Alex chilled him. It was unlike Alex to look so peaceful and relaxed, compliacent even....as if he were one with the world and knew all secrets possessed in life and time. Shaking the thought from his head, Tresckow took a sip of his wine and looked to Azzan.
"So my fellow diplomat, tell us more about your home," he kindly suggested as he took another bite, his eyes only briefly catching Alex to find him still in that peaceful state of mind, enjoying his dinner as if neither of them were in the room.
"It's very beautiful, the mountains are always green and the shores are caressed by the saphirres we call waves." He nodded as memories came flooding back of his youth, before his days as a prodigy, back when he was thought of as normal. "I would say more but it'd only put to shame the natural beauty." he raised a finger to emphasize his next point, "The people though, they can be spoken about," Azzan chuckled, "a nation full of geniouses one half the time and a nation full of prideful pricks the other- I kid, but that's what it feels like at times, I have to admit." Azzan took another bite of trout, Alex had grown to accept his fate, that much he seemed to gather from the mannerisms of the young man- Azzan would take it in a new direction.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow nodded politely, listening to what Azzan had said. His nation seemed to be doing well, educated, and grounded. He smiled at the thought, amazed that such a nation had found itself becoming involved in the inner workings of their region.
Alex looked up from his fish, feeling the throbbing in his head return. He felt a slight wave of nausea that passed quickly which manifested only as a slightly spasm of his face.
He looked from Azzan to Tresckow, both engaging in casual conversation. "Excuse me sirs," he said, sliding his fork and knife onto his plate in a manner which suggested that he would return. Sliding out of the booth, he stood erect, straightening his back in the poise of a figure accustomed to rigid structure in his life. He nodded politely to those he passed as he headed toward the bathroom. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it, pressing his back to the door. A flush of heat suddenly filled him as he slid down the door, his head resting on the tiolet, regardless of the fact that numerous people may have used it that day. Half crumpled on the floor, he felt a flush of heat again, the nausea returning, a tightening sensation in his throat. He tried to breath but found it was becoming extremely difficult.
Pain settling back into his heart from the lack of oxygen, he reached for his bag, finding that he had left it at the table. He shook his head, almost ready to laugh at his own predictament, when another wave of heat rushed over him and the tightening of his throat became more evident....audible wheezing now coming from him as he struggled to take another breath.
"I think your nation stands for much more then unity of your people," Tresckow offered, "it seems you have a system that works and has integrated highly regarded elements of humanity into it. I admire such accomplishments."
Looking to the bathroom, Tresckow felt a sudden ominious feeling. Alex left abruptly after his state of peace. It was known that people about to commit suicide often show an inner peace of acceptance before they performed the act. But was Alex really the type?
"Doctor," Tresckow stated simply, a rather stern command within his voice, stemmnig from the fact that he knew something was wrong, "I think we should check on him. He is at a high risk for mortality."
Azzan was already on his feet, he had noticed Alex had forgotten his bag by the time the young man had made it to the restrooms. Azzan grabbed the bag and took off to the toilets, Tresckow close on his heels. Azzan hit the door and rebounded- Alex had shut the one way in to save him. Azzan called out, bringing attention from fellow patrons and the staff, "Alex if you can hear me, open the door. If you can't I'm coming in"
Azzan gave a nod to Tresckow, "It's weak, we're going to have to shove it though" Tresckow nodded and on the ritual count of three the two men barreled into door, the lock deadbolt ripped through the door frame that had held it in place. Azzan reached down to the sufficating young man. Azzan took his vitals and felt for the signs, ripping off the young man's shirt he noticed why he seemed he accepted his fate, however Azzan didn't stop in his rushed professionalism, Alex had gone into anaphylactic shock. "Get me his hypo pen or whatever he takes and call the medics, I'll do what I can." Azzan grabbed his own small medical bag, the vials of nanos glimmered, the hestimine attackers had just gotten done absorbing the molecular instructions to target, the color indicator showed them as ready. Tresckow by now had retrieved the pen and steadily handed it to Azzan, Azzan quietly remarked as to the older man's calm under duress and injected the adrenaline pen into the young man. "I'm going to save Alex, but you're going to have to trust me." Tresckow simply nodded, observing Azzan as Azzan had observed him.
Quickly Azzan took the vial of miracles, praying silently he could perform one of his one upon the young boy. He pressed the metal tip of the vial, it popped to reveal a three pronged hypo delivery system. He pressed the head of vial against the weakening Alex, and the miracles rushed into his body, to deliver what was hopefully a moments salvation to the hell plagued man. Tresckow asked, "Will he be ok?" Azzan only replied, "One can only hope" and with that the sound of the ambulances blared into the two's existences as a bubble is popped by a pin, medics rushed in and all of them were off within a matter of seconds. A lunch had turned into a matter of physical emergency and a possible point of political contention.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex felt his eyes flicker back to life as he heard the thudding of heavy doors. He quickly assessed the scene, he was tied down flat, a mask over his nose and mouth, a lumbering face above him. He could not remember what had happened, but he could vividly remember an odd feeling of choking that was not related to food.
His thoughts formed themselves as he realized he was now in an ambulance topless, the the extent of his weaknesses laid out like a blinking sign calling attention.
"You work for Whitecastle, am I correct?" Alex asked, his voice muffled through the oxygen mask placed over him.
The man over him looked down, with evidence of impatience on his face, "We are in Whitecastle."
"I am an Ambassa..."
"We know who you are," the man shot back, "you'll get the best treatment. Don't worry. They'll see to it," the man spoke as he nudged his head toward Tresckown and Azzan.
Alex merely shook his head, this man had not understood him at all. "You have to go back. I forgot something at the resturant. It is needed for the doctors. I won't make it without it," his voice pitched high, a slight panic rushing into it, just as he had feigned it to sound.
The man, sensing an urgency about this matter, quickly informed the driver that they had to turn around. Whipping the ambulance around, Alex felt a sudden satisfication fill him.
Within five minutes the ambulance stopped, the driver turning around. "What does he need? I'll get it," the man's sharp voice echoed off the walls of the ambulance.
From the front of the vehicle, a smooth sounding voice overtook the scene. It was clear, distinct, as if issued by a person sitting right there, "Trauma alert. 303. Immediate response."
Caught in the dilemma of missing this trauma and running into the resturant on a damned treasure hunt, the driver cursed silently to himself.
Alex looked to Tresckow and Azzan, both had seemed to be caught in the driver's behaviors. He tried to sit up, but felt the restaints tightly holding him in place. Turning his attention to the man who was keeping his watch over Alex, Alex stared intently into the man's eyes, speaking a thousand words that only those two could quite understand.
"Leave me out. I'll be fine. Save them," Alex said softly, like a voice of the conscious speaking.
Without so much as a thought otherwise, the man undid the restraints holding Alex. He was about to remove the mask when Alex abruptly sat up and pulled it off himself. The sudden shock of it brought him to reality with the strap of the restraint still in his hand.
But before he could utter a word, Alex was up, opening the door with a rush. He was out of the ambulance, moving faster then any man who had just suffered a severe allergic reaction that could have caused death.
Taking one look at Azzan, Tresckow shrugged, a look of slight confusion and admiration spreading across his face. "Let us follow," he said, "Take care of those people," he said as he followed in persuit of Alex, who by the time was already at the enterence of the resturant, as if not waiting for even a second.
Azzan followed Tresckow back into the restaurant to see a stern Alex holding his jacket up in the air as he grabbed it off the floor, like a monk fishing a relic off sacred ground. As he covered his body hesimply refused to explain. Azzan gave a querying look but Tresckow shrugged, showing a resignation to answer Azzan's unasked question, explained in a reverent tone, "A symbol of honor takes many forms." Azzan nodded in understanding but inwardly shook his head at the vanity of some customs, Azzan smiled though and spoke "Then... I suppose we should get back before they charge us?" Tresckow looked around and gave a wily smirk, "Good plan." And they were off back to where the the summit would soon be held.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex followed behind the two men in quiet reserve, as custom to him, and simply kept his focus on what lay before him. With his wounds concealed again, he could breath easier, a feeling of vulnerability decreased.
The three walked back, the event that had transpired all replaying itself in their heads. Each with a thought of their own to contribute to the plethora of interpretations of what had just happened: Had Alex been attacked? Was the food deliberately altered? Was Alex well enough to come onto this trip? Would his vulnerabilities and injuries inhibit his capabilities within the summit? Would he have another moment like the one in the resturant? Did he deliberately lock that door to let himself die?
The moment of silence was broken by a group of screaming children who rushed past the ambassadors, barely aware of their presence. A ball had sailed past Tresckow's head, who narrowly avoided being hit by it. Catching the ball more by reflex then cognitive thought, Alex examined the object in his hand. It was a medium sized plastic ball filled with air, nothing more or less. Feeling a tugging at his pants legs, he looked down to see a small boy aged three standing there holding his hands up. Alex crouched down and handed the ball to the child who took it and widely smiled back. He watched for a brief moment as the child ran away, caught up in the careless wonders of childhood.
He would never have a son.
The thought struck him hard as he steadied himself while standing. He felt as if the very life had been knocked out. Even moments ago with the acceptance of his death, it had hit him hard. He never thought about having a child. He was the last Ruhumunah. Destiny had been killed in a self sacrifice to preserve their Fuhrer, his own father also dead in a self sacrifice to save their Fuhrer and allies. Was he doing the right thing? Was playing this pawn in his best interests?
He fell into a silent stride behind Azzan and Tresckow, his quiet reserved nature making him easy to be forgotten during meetings and discussions when others engaged a passionate interest or discussion. Slipping away for a moment, he worked his way down a small side ally, twisting and turning through the stone walls of the city sections. He needed time to think, somewhere quiet, somewhere away from the pressures of The Reich.
When Tresckow and Azzan had returned to the quarters, Tresckow moved ahead to open the door for Azzan and Alex. Smiling to Alex for a show of support, his smile quickly dropped to a frown as Alex was no where to be seen. How he we lost him?" his mind flashed with the thought that Alex might have been dead somewhere just from the mere exertion of their trip, but he shook the thought from his head knowing Alex was still alive in his heart.
Taking another glance back, Tresckow stepped into the room to meet Azzan's questioning gaze. "He should be fine. I will go search for him if we not hear from him within the next hour or so," Tresckow offered, trying to formulate a plan inside his head as they went along.
Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
Alec Trevelyan shook his head as Dmitriy and Rajay entered his room, flanked by his GSS detail. Outside, Whitecastle's guards stood by each diplomat's room, and in the case of his group, in supporting positions near his guards. Only difference: none really, except they probably had guns, since his detail was not allowed to have any.
"What are we doing here?" Dmitriy, his external affairs man, asked him impatiently. "We should be meeting the other diplomats and the ones involved in this war. Get to know what people are thinking."
"Personally," Rajay, his defence minister, interjected, "I don't like this one bit. None of the foreign guards or guys can come in armed to defend themselves. So if something bad does go down, how reliable are these guys? Frankly, I don't even know if they intend to let us leave this place after this shit is done."
"I don't know what to think, " replied a brooding Alec. He began to think out loud. "We came in here with no information on these guys. We can't even get any satellite information without risking the loss of our satellites. This places seems a well armed fortress. God knows how their special forces are.
"We don't know the threat assessment against us here, but we can't take any chances. Sure they may want to protect all the foreign diplomats, but what's to say someone has ulterior motives? What is to say that there is someone on the inside working to destabilise things on the outside-"
"Mr. President, with all due respect, sir," interrupted Dmitriy. "We do not obviously know that. That's pure speculation and if you keep it up, it's going to eat you inside with that paranoia. I'm sure Whitecastle has the best of intentions of protecting everyone here."
"Sir, I agree," said GSS Special Agent Simon Pierce, the executive lead of the President's GSS detail who was in the room with him. "From what I can tell with my observations, their security seemed very tight. As these guys just had to deal with war in the region, I don't know how bad it got, but it looks like enough security that they're personally providing to prevent any more bloodshed towards anyone, foreign or otherwise. Personally, I suggest going down there, doing what you need to do, and remaining vigilant, as always."
Alec sight. "Vigilant as always Simon....very well. We'll go down and we'll mingle, but we will also observe and watch our sixes. Let's go."
Simon went ahead of him and opened the door, and Alec left the room, followed by Dmitriy and Rajay, then the rest of the detail as they all went to where the other diplomats were to mingle, and to observe.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex followed behind his own shadow, as if the shadow itself was leading the man behind it. He watched his figure on the stoned street he walked, lost in the pulls of thought, when he fell forward, hands not of his own pulling him to his feet before he hit the road.
He looked up to meet the face behind the strong grip that now fought to steady him as he regained himself. It was strong a grip and he was more then shocked to see a hearty woman standing before him with her firm grasp on his shoulders to keep from toppling over.
"Ya ok mista? I didn't mean ta trip ya. I normally keep my things in the streets. Not many pass through here," she spoke, her voice harsh and ladened with the lay language of her people. She eyed him carefully, removing her arms and crossing them in front of her, before she spoke cautiously, "say you're not from around here are ya?"
Alex shook his head, looking now to what he had tripped over, a bundled bag. He felt words flee from his mind as he silently stood there resuming eye contact with the woman.
"Ya a quiet one aren'tcha?" she asked, laughing at some internal thought of her own. "Let me getcha a bite. Ya look too skinny," she spoke noting the thinned body that he had slowly become. She could tell he once was the frame of a lean to muscular man, well kept and well fed, but that had transpired with the sunken look his body. He suffered trauma, it was evident.
Alex nodded, standing where he was, trying to find words. He did not want to offend this woman by declining her offer.
"Well don'tcha just stand there!" she nearly yelled, grabbing his arm with that firm grasp and pulling him inside.
Alex was surprised by the simpleness of these people. The house was carved out stone, a small house like all the others crammed into this small section of the Sector. They were a poor family he could tell, but he was surprised more to see how clean she had kept her small home. If stone could sparkle it would have.
"Well sit," she ordered, pointing to a stone sitting area liberally cushioned with handmade pillows.
Alex found himself obeying her orders without a second thought. She was mother, he could tell by the hearty command in her voice. Mothers had a way of governing the small armies of every nation and no man could replicate that type of authority. She had a family, evidenced by the small marks children leave in even the most well tended to houses, a small toy here and there, the pictures of smiling faces. A sudden pang struck him again at the thought of her motherhood. He would not be father.
He lost himself in his thoughts once again, when he was brought back to awareness by a sudden sweet smell beneath his nose. He looked up to see the woman holding a cup for him, a table brought over with a steaming bowl of soup and a plate with bread, crackers, and cheese. He could not but help marvel at this woman; she had let him to his thoughts while she prepared his meal and did not stir him from his thoughts earlier.
"Drink up" she said, as Alex's hands enfolded the cup. She tipped it slightly, forcing him to take a sip or spill the fluid down him. "There ya go," she spoke a smile of satisfication spreading across her face, as if she had triumphed in a silent battle.
Alex let the fluid slide down his throat, a sweet honey taste coming from it. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted and he was sure it was native to Whitecastle. It was refreshing like cold water and yet sweet to the tastebuds. He could not but helping draining the cup quickly.
The woman smile, working her way back to the kitchen with a large glass full of the liquid. "Here ya are."
Taking the glass, Alex found words, his thoughts suddenly more clear, "Thank you ma'am," his voice quiet, barely above a whisper in comparision to the haughty boom of the woman's voice.
"Now tell me whats troublin' you," she demanded in the way mothers sneak the truths from their children's lies.
Alex dipped the silver spoon into the soup and stirred it slowly, noting the consistency and seperate ingredients. "I fear for my life," he spoke truthfully, finding no need to mask anything from this woman.
"Ya gonna have ta die sometime. I know ya know dat. That's not whats really botherin' ya issit?" she probed, knowing harsher truths lay just beneath that surface.
"I have no child," the words escaped him, as he brought a spoon full of soup to his lips, testing the temperature before plunging it down his throat. It was a soup mixed from a fine blend of herbs that instantly aroused his senses. It was more then good, it was almost addictive, but he knew he needed to elaborate before having more of the soup. "I am to go before a council of great people and I have no child. I'll be placed in a position that will warrant a death sentence. And I have no child. I have learned of the deaths of my own father and my beloved sister. I am the last of my family that remains," his voice fell into a silent despondancy.
"Will your name go down in history?" she asked, a sudden sense of wisdom about her.
Alex looked up at her, spoon suspended in midair, as the thought struck him. "I don't know," he contemplated, "I suppose that lies in the hands of those who record history."
The woman smiled and laughed. "Eat up you! You're famished. Skin and bones....what're they feedin' ya?" she joked as the sound of the door rushing open and laughing voices filled the room.
Three young boys all surrounded her, one Alex recognized from their walk earlier. "Mommy mommy! I saw them! I saw them! I saw the people from the big ship! I saw them mommy! One of them touched my ball!" one of the boys squealed as he held up the plastic ball.
"Manners boys. Company!" she nearly shouted over the sudden roar of noise.
And with her commands, their eyes all traveled the room to meet Alex, whom they did not see upon entering. It was the youngest of the boys whose eyes lit up in recognition.
Pulling on his mothers long day dress, he tried his best to conceal a whisper, "Mommy! That's him!"
"Enough Timothy. Fetch him more sahalask."
Unable to suppress his excitement, he tore through the house to the kitchen rushing back with a glass of spilling fluid. Handing it to Alex, he stood close to Alex, amazed by this man.
"Timothy has been waitin' for ya," the woman spoke, "He wouldn't sleep for days when he watched the ship depart. He swore up and down he'd see ya. And here ya are sittin' in our livin' room," she said, shaking her head at the thought."
"He's the one! That's him!" he squealed again, marveling at Alex.
Alex found himself smiling, a natural smile that fell upon his face in the presence of children. Trying to conceal this foreign expression to him, he brought the bowl of soup to his mouth and drank directly from it, throwing away the diplomatic etiquette he was trying to maintain.
By the time he had finished eating, an hour had passed, and Timothy had ended up in his lap, resting his head on Alex's chest despite the hidden port beneath his head. Alex took a look the child who drifted into sleep and couldn't contain the natural smile that slipped onto his face again. He looked to the woman whose gaze was watching the other two boys playing a game on the floor.
When she met his eyes, she smiled to him, seeing a gentle internal compassion about this man. It was a shame that he had no children. He seemed to carry an essence of a great father beneath the diplomacy he carried. He was a fine diplomat, no doubt, but a finer father he would have made.
"I should go," Alex said, realizing that he had been gone for about two hours now and by that time a search party was bound to have started to look for him. "Thank you for everything. I have no idea what was in your soup or drink, but it was beyond words," Alex's soft voice whispered, appreciating her kindess and the lack of an assassination attempt that was too easy to suspect.
"Yea don't wanna keep your friends waitin'," she spoke as she worked her way over to the young boy and picked him up. The boy sensing departure quickly threw his arms around Alex's neck, pulling Alex forward as his mother pulled him away.
"Bye bye mister sir. I love you!" he spoke through the sleepiness he was trying to fight.
"Goodbye young child. Behave for your mother," he spoke simply, his voice warm and soothing behind the whisper.
As Alex departed, the woman holding her son on her hip, the other two coming to see him off, she reached out and touched his cheek, "Son, you will be remembered and your memory preserved in Whitecastle as the enemy who cared for the lay people. You are a fine diplomat. Now watch your step!" she warned him, smiling at the subtle event that had brought upon their meeting.
Alex allowed himself a friendly laugh as he departed, the smiling faces all waving him off down the street.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow met with the ambassadors from Govindia. He shook their hands and greeted them all politely.
"Hello fellow ambassadors who have been called to this summit. I am Major General Henning von Tresckow of The Supreme Council. I represent part of The Reich during this summit. So who might you be and what brings you here?"
Alec smiled. "I am Alec Trevelyan, President of the Republic of Govindia and all overall leader of the Protectorate of Marionetsvia, which is under Govindian control. The Governor General and Chief Minister of Marionetsvia could not attend, as they both had business at home to tend to." He gestured to the others with him. "Aside from my Secret Service detail, this is Dmitriy Aleksandreyevich Popov, our Minister of External Affairs, and Minster of Defence Rajay Vishnu Dhaupal." Dmitriy and Rajay extended their hands and greeted Tresckow.
"We were invited to come to this summit, and we wanted to learn more about what happened here, and also, to debate about the future of Marionetsvia with regards to certain major powers here. Now, could you tell us a bit of recap on what's been going on? I'm sure we missed a few things, and would like to know more ourselves."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow smiled, trying to suppress the distraction in his mind. It had been nearly an hour and Alex had not yet been seen. Azzan had stayed and waited with him in the main hall, the two discussing politics and the differences between their nations.
Unable to hide a nervous anxiety within, Tresckow's face slightly dropped some. "I hate to be rude, but we must find Alex. He has been gone too long. Alex normally wonders, but he finds himself back a few moments. This is not his custom," Tresckow informed the new ambassadors, trying to convey a sense of utmost importance concerning Alex.
"Shall we start looking for him?" he asked the ambassadors, who all agreed and responded with a haste that diplomats and leaders all understood well.
Finding a group of guards and their respective guards, the group set out, Tresckow seperating them in groups, decided that Azzan and Alec should travel with him while the others fanned out.
"We meet back here in an hour. Be on time. We are not going to lose any one else. A Whitecastle guard is going to guide each group and they will keep in contact with each other. Does everyone understand what needs to be done?"
A slight hestitation rippled through some of the new ambassadors at the thought of being unarmed and accompanied by an armed man, but Tresckow's trust and security, shown with his back turned to a Whitecastle official who could easily end his life at that moment, was hard to fight against. Agreeing, they departed, all heading seperate ways, Tresckow leading them along the route the had walked earlier.
While Alec began searching with the General, he was slightly annoyed.
"Pardon me, General," Alec asked. "With all due respect, why are foreign diplomats looking for one of your people? I don't even know who this Alex is, and why would we have to find him when not many know who he is. Why not have your guards or Whitecastle's guards look for him?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow looked into Alec's eyes, searching for a glimpse of the man's personality. He was obviously unaccustomed to the ways of The Reich, so Tresckow merely smiled as he spoke, "He is a friend. We search for friends ourselves. Remember we are guests in Whitecastle. It is not wise to send men to do your biddings like a slave when you are a guest within their home."
Turning around, he walked down the street, continuing the explain the situation. "Alex is fairly easily to spot. He'll be the only one clad in full uniform walking these streets. He is a charmer....ashame his life was surrounded by war. He would be a fine bachelor," Tresckow laughed, remembering the past resilient youth he had seen in Alex. That time seemed so long ago despite it being only the passing of a few years.
Azzan nodded to himself, in his hand he held the molecular tracker, he had created it as a side technology to the dispersal technique. A short tracking device incase of theft of the miracles, the transmitter was the area of injection, hidden within the three prongs it would release into the skin, creating a marker for the thief, something Azzan could track. However, it only worked over short distances, and whitecastle's main city was hardly short. Azzan spoke up, "I believe we should be going, the longer he's out there the harder he will be to find."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Word traveled fast through the streets, the enemy diplomat who dined with the lay people of Whitecastle, who won the love of a child and mother, who brought happiness upon a family who could not provide him no money nor services in return. The lay people of Whitecastle began to spread the word, searching out this strange man from the lands of hell, the lands which were rumored to have have blood red skies and stained soil.
The Whitecastle people looked out of their houses, took to the streets, anything to see this man. Who was he? Why did he come among them? The thronging questions that ran through their minds.
In the mean time, Alex tried to back track, surprised that even though he was not paying attention, his mind acted on its own accord to remember some of the places he had walked. He was grateful for this aspect, but found that not all roads were silently memorized within his mind, and now he was standing in the middle of a dead end overlooking the ocean. It was elevated, on the top of a hill, and he watched as dolphins played in the waters and children in the sand. The afternoon was setting in, the sun descending, and yet children played on....the simplicities of their lives. Parents fished further down and collected wild berries that grew along the sand. Families worked and children played and the entire community accepted this, no fear of harm brought forth to them. He wondered what their crime rate was here....imagining it to be unexistant not through fear but through a mutual understanding and acceptance of their lives.
Watching for a few moments, he was caught by surprise when a hand found itself upon his shoulder again. "Are you da one everyones talkin' bout?" the raspy voice of an elderly man asked.
Alex shrugged, unsure of what the man was talking about. He was not his father, a man whose face had imprinted itself upon the history of this entire region. He realized though in that moment that he was remarkably similiar to his father, taking on most of his genetic traits....almost a split image. Perhaps people had confused him for his father, but it was not possible, his father was buried in European Free States, his funeral attended by The Reich and The Elite Empire both. Afterall, it was his father who looked past the terrifying stigma of Dante to save his life.
He wondered in that brief moment of silence what his father had done to win such prized respect and honor. His father did have a manner about him that naturally people were attracted to, but he could not remember a single instance in their childhood where his father had done anything that would make the masses love him like they had.
"They're lookin' for ya youngin'," the man spoke when the silence of Alex had gone on long enough.
Alex nodded as he stepped down from the rocks, helping the old man who hobbled up down in the process, despite the clenching pain overtaking his heart. He held his breath as they made it down the last rock and his mind questioned how he ever got up there in the first place. The pain still held on tightly as he released the breath.
Tightening his jaw to try and stifle the pain, Alex walked alongside this old man, who hobbled with cane as he held onto Alex's arm for further support. Together in a passive silence they walked down the streets, the old man guiding Alex to where he had last seen the men in uniforms.
People were flocking though, staring out their windows, following in persuit. That was the man. And here he walked with Claudius.
The man felt Alex's pain as he held onto Alex's arm. A man so young should not have experienced an attack such as the one that plagued him now. But he knew there was no rest for the son of Atticus, the beloved Ruhumunahs of The Reich. Even in Whitecastle, the Ruhumunah family was admired and respected for their dedication and loyalty. They had not ruthlessly killed anyone but had subtlely avoided conflict by the fluency of their words.
Despite the frailness of the man, Alex felt a strength and warmth from him. It was unusual to experience such feelings, but he took them into his heart, solidying the memory to hold when his time of peril approached.
Rounding a corner, he was surprised to be greeted by hundreds of people, all smiling and peeking for a look. No one asked questions, no one fought, they all just looked and smiled. It disturbed him that he was a spectacle to these people, but he accepted that it must come with falling in the shadows of his father. He nodded and tried to smile, but the clenching pain twisted the attempt into a distorted grimace.
The crowd parted from the back though, and like a curtain being parted, revealed Tresckow and Azzan.
Tresckow thanked Azzan for his help as he rushed forward. "You gave us quite a scare son," Tresckow spoke as he placed an arm around Alex's shoulder guiding him back through the crowd of people toward their quarters.
Alex quickly glimpsed back, the crowd reformed into a solid wall of silently smiling faces and he felt an odd sense of admiration. Pulled from the thought though, Tresckow held him tightly, almost a menacing tight as they departed the crowd who waved to the departing diplomats. The Whitecastle guard walked before them, ordering them all back to their homes, and the swiftly obeyed, stealing a last glance Alex.
Alex's steps began to falter though and Tresckow brought him to a bench, one of many that lined the streets, Azzan joining them knowing that Alex's heart must have been the problem.
His eyes began to blur, the clenching becoming unbearable as the steady ringing overtook his hearing. He did not hear the questions asked by Azzan, who was quickly trying to asses the problem, but blankly stared at Azzan's moving mouth. His eyelids started to droop, a fatigued tiredness overcoming him. He needed to reoxygenate his heart, the exertion of the trip too much for him.
As the crowd surged forward in a great wave of panic to see what had happened to their new hero. Azzan held them back with a cold icy stare, the front row stopped in it's tracks as a ripple was sent through the crowd "It was exertion, he's been out too long- he's had a cold lately so this... extended trip has really exhausted him. All he needs is some fluids and some water." The crowd seemed to accept this explanation, as Azzan signaled for some oxygen and a stretcher, Azzan felt a little guilty for instilling fear in the people so he placated them, "I'll make sure he'll be able to visit you all again- maybe for a bit longer if we have the time." He smiled and waved a good bye as the white castle officials as well as foreign dignataries began the trip back up to the accomidations atop the hill.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
With Alex back in his room sleeping silently, Tresckow slipped from the door and closed it quietly. Briefly, he leaned against the wall, resting his head back in deep thought, processing all of the days events....Alex was just like his father. The thought was reassuring on a personal level, but he began to rethink his plans, wondering if Alex was the best person for the job.
From learned experience, he pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to question his decision. In this war, you stuck to your actions, regardless of whether or not it was the right decision. Taking a deep breath, he straightened the jacket of his uniform and walked back down to the lobby.
He veered right, working through unknown corridors and past unmoving guards until he found himself in a small ambassador lounge. He grabbed himself a cup of coffee and sat down on one of the chairs with one of the local papers.
He needed to clear his mind before the summit. The way their war went, anything could happen and he needed to be prepared for even the prospect of the dead being there, thinking how he would rather a summit with Satan then Dante or Nye.
Azzan watched over the sleeping form of Alex, the young man was a picture of exhaustion. "I'll do what I can to set things right for you." He exited, favoring a strong coffee he made his way to a lounge he had found on earlier expeditions only to find Tresckow. Azzan nodded and began to make his coffee, he turned about as he waited and spoke softly, "How long do you want him to live?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow took a sip of his coffee and looked up from behind the paper. He motioned for Azzan to sit down, knowing that the topic at hand was best discussed in comfort. When Azzan seated himself, Tresckow set down the paper and took another sip of his coffee before also placing that aside on the table.
"Well Azzan," Tresckow spoke clearly, finding the correct way to say his next thoughts. "Young Alex has a duty to perform to The Reich by acting as its voice during this summit. After he has done his job, I wish him peace."
Contemplating his own words in the temporary silence that hung in the air, he leaned forward, "I would have preferred Alex to have never been involved in any of this, but he decided his placement in this long ago when he decided to come to The Reich and rule in Der Fuhrer Dyszel's absence. He commanded The Red Queen. He has chosen his own fate. He holds power both here and there.....he is a valuable asset to us. But he is young and he has never had the chance to live his life. He grew up in the shadows of his father. It was a difficult upbringing for him."
"I figured as much," Azzan took a long draught from his coffee letting it burn his throat for feeling, "I believe once this is over, I can give him the ability to live his own life." Azzan breathed in the cool air rustling past his burned throat, the nerves screaming at the sudden cold, "He deserves a life to lead for his own."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow leaned back at Azzan's proposal and rubbed his chin, his thoughts delving deeply for an answer. "Alex must decide for himself," Tresckow carefully said not to indicate approval of disapproval of this proposal.
Grabbing his cup and taking another sip, he leaned lazily back into the chair. "So what do you know about this war?" he asked, trying to maintain conversation and yet trying to learn more about this man who offered them reprieves from their greatest sufferings.
"Besides the news clips shoved out by propaganda crews?" Azzan joked, he sighed, "Not much besides the some of the general knowlege leaders are opt to get as the information comes in" Azzan straightened up, "Frankly I don't want to get involved in a war, I just wish to bring the world into a new era... And if that sounds too ideal, I suppose you say I want to commit the biggest peice of medical publicity since the first vaccine."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow allowed a smile to spread across his face. "Well Azzan, I wish you the best of luck. You are in the right place for technological and medical growth as both sides are very apt to accepting such."
"If you befriend Alex, he may be more willing to take you to The Depths of Hell. I am sure you will find this place fascinating," Tresckow offered kindly, but a pang of guilt and pain shot through his face. With the mention of The Depths of Hell, memories resurfaced. He could not push them back though and he temporarily let them consume his thoughts as he remembered firing those three shots as the defiant Mathias still stood protecting those doors. He could see Mathias fling back slightly with each shot, droop forward, and restraighten himself trying to aim a clean shot at these intruders. He watched again as Mathias finally collapsed in a pool of his own blood as they took the gates. And most painfully he remembered stepping over the bodies of Mathias and his fallen loyal soldiers.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
The blades whirled to life as the remainder of the ambassadors climbed into the helicopter stationed outside Konigsreich der Mathias. Despite limited communication lines in The Dictatorship, word had traveled fast that Mathias had set the building to terminate the life within, rendering it a wasteland like the rest of the region.
It was not long before the living and the wounded were packed into the helicopter. They had left behind the severely wounded, injecting them all with a lethal dose of potassium chloride, stopping their hearts almost instantly. The bodies were left behind, unable to be buried in the short period of time that they had to escape the hell of that mansion.
Holding onto the open door, a tall thin man looked out to see if any last stragglers meandered out of the mansion. His long white blond hair fell forward as he leaned outward, the wind from the blades catching it and whipping it around his face. Brushing it back, he eased his way into the seat next to a man who looked well past his years and he couldn't help but think that this man should have received the injection like the rest. But he shrugged, recalling something vaguely familiar about this man. If they had approved him to board this helicopter in that condition, he must have been someone important.
Closing his eyes, the man let the tranquility of the flight rush over him. The chopping air from the blades above reassured him as he slipped into sleep, knowing their journey would be some time.
It was sunset when they had arrived, the sun dipping over the buildings as the helicopter approached a flight pad onto of a very old stone building that had been kept in a remarkable condition.
The man opened his eyes and watched as they landed, waiting for the blades to settle before leaping out and helping the weakened man beside him out. Whitecastle officials had instantly greeted them, searching them quickly for any concealed weapons which one may have carried. Finding them to be relatively harmless, except for the long sword they had taken from this blond man, they allowed the men to pass.
"Welcome to Whitecastle," one of the guards deep voices boomed. "Who might you be?"
A grin spread across the man's face as they walked, an almost cocky air about him. "Hello. I am Noskalenaeuroph. You shall find I'm here to support The Dictatorship along with my friends here," his voice slid from his mouth as he motioned to the group of people behind him. "Can we be escorted to The Reich quarters?"
Nodding, the guards took them to the ambassador corridor and helped them situate into their rooms. When the guards had left, Nos took a long striding walk down the corridor, exploring the building, still maintaining that cocky reassured air about him.....until he found himself in the ambassador lounge, two men sitting and talking over coffee. He had never met the one, but Tresckow's face stood out like a brightly lit sign calling his attention.
"Hello gentlemen," his smooth voice again poured from his mouth, that grin sliding across his face as if amused by the sight of these two men.
"I see you've just arrived yourself, may I offer you a seat?" Azzan studied the newcomer. He seemed to be familiar with Tresckow and the two seemed to have a history. Azzan decided to be polite and quiet as he would let this scene play out. Azzan smiled curtly, "May I ask your name?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Noskalenaeuroph pulled a seat aside Azzan and Tresckow, forming a triangle among them. He smiled at Azzan, a smile betraying a deadly trade beneath his young features.
"My name is Noskalenaeuroph, but everyone around here calls me Nos," his voice slid off his tongue almost eloquent.
He extended a long thin hand, a finely tuned instrument, that took Azzan's hand. They shook, Azzan's firm grasp against Nos's feigning weak clasp. He always masked himself behind a handshake, often portraying himself as an aristocrat.
But Nos knew Azzan was more perceptive. He knew Azzan had probably already guessed that he was a hired hand, the blade of The Reich, silently slitting the throats of enemies in the night.
Feeling confident in his own assessment, Nos leaned back on the chair, bringing his leg up to his knee and leaning on one arm as he surveyed the two men. "They removed my sword," he spoke in a matter of fact statement that spoke volumes.
Tresckow, remaining silent the entire time, did not respond to this comment. He held his coffee cup in his hand, unmoving, unblinking as Noskalenaeuroph spoke.
Nos noted Tresckow's silence and filled in the awkward emptiness with a smile to Azzan. "So who are you and what brings you to these depths?"
Ambassador's Lounge, Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
Alec was finally relieved that the search was over. It had taken probably an hour or so. After it happened, he told Dmitriy and Rajay to go and mingle with where everyone else was going - here: the Ambasssador's Lounge.
As Alec saw them after walking in, Simon saw him and was about to head to him, but Alec held a hand up, indicating not to hold. With a flurry of his hands, Alec began communicating in MSL, military sign language, to Simon.
"Hold there and watch those two," he signed, indicating to Rajay and Dmitriy. "I'll just stay here with the rest of the detail gives cover." He referred to the rest of the GSS detail that was also watching him. To the outsider, not knowing anything about how sign works, Alec could have been confused as either acting really childish, or extremely retarded.
Alec simply smiled at the nearest agent next to him, and picked up a glass from a waiter as they passed by. Taking the time to sip it and indulge the flavour, Alec was able to discern from not only the clear liquid, but the slight bitter yet tart taste to it, that it was a vodka martini. Possibly shaken, not stirred, with a pimiento olive in it.
Alec simply sipped silently and marvelled at the size of the lounge. He did not intend to actively seek conversation with anyone, unless someone came to him. His two ministers seem to be doing fine with that, representing the interests of Govindia and all her territories.
Alec let out a deep breath. While it was relieving that Gen. Tresckow's friend Alex was found and will be ok, he could not still stand irritated at the general's attitude. While he may understand Tresckow's unwillingness to get Whitecastle's guards involved, why should he have asked other foreigners to help with the search? Alex was not a Govindian, nor was he part of the detail that came to Whitecastle. Some generals will be more stubborn than others, at least the career generals are from my experience, Alec thought.
Still, it could have been a useful way to get to know him. He did not know in what capacity Alex was important to The Reich, except he was some diplomat of some kind.
Alec did not know exactly everyone who was involved in this war, but it must have been damning enough that all these people are here. He will continue ot have to listen and hear, or at least as long as he has enough vodka martini in his glass.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow merely glanced at the incoming ambassadors before turning back to his now warm cup of coffee. Noskalenaeuroph sat nearby looking at Azzan, that cocky look of reassurance on his face the entire time. Tresckow merely sighed and stood up, retrieving himself another cup of coffee before returning to the two, who were now engaged in conversation.
Sitting back down, he picked up his paper and began reading it again, glancing up one more time to check on the ambassadors who had entered and yet had not conversed with anyone.
Nos caught Tresckow's glance and allowed himself to break from conversation to look at these men. He heard them enter, but thought nothing of the matter, until Tresckow kept uneasily glancing their way.
A sardonic grin spread across Nos's face as he stood up, moving fluidly like water down a river. "Watch this," he whispered to Azzan with a wink before turning around and walking over to the man who sat alone with his drink. Walking like a predator stalking prey, Nos quickly leaped over the chair and fell into it before Alec, letting his legs hang over one side as he leaned back on his arm on the other side.
"What's shakin' bacon?" he laughed, that sardonic smile spread across his face. "Who are you?"
Azzan mused quietly as Nos made himself an obvious nuisance, the man was a dangerous one to cross- that was a given even if, as Azzan presumed, the blade wasn't on call for any immediate dispatches. "My name is Azzan Medici, a potentate of Anceltierre. The reason I am here for though is of a different matter than of just myself." Azzan thought out his words carefully, "You could say I'm Prometheus, but I'd prefer not to have my liver and eyes taken out day after day." He grimly smiled with a hint of self satisfaction as to evading pointed question although he made a note for himself to be wary of the Nos' questions.
Alec was startled as the strange yet tall man jumped into the seat in front of him and asked him.
"Oh, goodness!" Alec replied as he nearly spilled his drink. "Seemed to have startled me. Didn't know you were a swinger of couches." Alec laughed then took a quick glance at the man. Seemed to be slender, very upscale-looking. His hair had a sort of elvish look to it, blonde with a hint of silver.
Alec then sat up and crossed his legs. "I am Alec Trevelyan, President of the Republic of Govindia. And who, oh swinger of couches and plush seats, may you be?" Alec winked. Normally, he did not have an attraction towards other men, as he was straight and already happily married. However, were here a woman, that may be different.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"Call me Nos and get off your ass," he said as he leaped to his feet and grabbed Alec's arm, pulling him toward the other ambassadors, giving a sly wink to Azzan in the process.
Looking behind, he watched the guards make a hasty move toward their beloved Alec, but Nos shot his mischevious grin their way. With his free hand, Nos whipped a chair over and placed it in now between his chair and Tresckow's. Seeing that Alec was not harmed, the guards stood there confused for a moment, looking among themselves for an answer.
Tresckow merely shook his head as he took another sip of his fresh hot coffee and placed the paper.
"Was that necessary?" he asked, his voice hiding a hint of annoyance.
Nos laughed as he slid back into his position on his chair, looking to Azzan. "He's a quiet one. Someone needed to get his ass over here."
Alec gave him a irritated look at the one called Nos, but smiled smugly at Tresckow. "You have some fancy mates you have, General," Alec said as he sipped his drink.
Alec then went back to crossing his legs. Noticing Rajay look at him throughout the whole mess, Alec smiled and nodded to him, and Rajay did the same back.
Turning to Nos, he asked, "So, Nos, what is that short for? and what are you and whom you represent? That is, what's your title, and what nation are you representing? Forgive me for asking, I'm only curious, as I do not know you all well. I still don't even know who this 'Alex' is that the General wanted me to find."
Azzan yawned, forcing it more than from an actual tiredness. "I'm sorry but I wasn't exactly paying attention to the goings on." He smiled slightly, "Why don't you tell us why YOU'RE here Nos, afterall it's only fair to know why a person like you would be playing mind games with young Alec." He smiled demurely as he drank in his coffee.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos let out a loud obnixious laugh as he looked to both ambassadors, narrowly skipping over Tresckow in the transition.
"I am here to provide comic relief. Noskalenaeuroph, at your service. ....Mathias is not around is he?" Nos asked, suddenly slightly serious as the thought just entered his head.
Then it was Tresckow who uncharacterisitically laughed loudly. "Fortunately for you Mister Bortniansky has been relieved of all duties to The Reich."
The two stared at each other, an unspoken conversation being played out between their eyes. It was broken only when Nos laughed again.
"So they wonder why I am here Tres," Nos repeated, continuing to direct his responses to Tresckow.
"Shall I tell them I am here because Der Fuhrer Dyszel ordered my presence here? Or shall I tell them I here because certain death would have come to me if I had not attended this summit? Or perhaps I shall tell them that I am here to execute you for your betrayal to The Reich," he laughed, a malicious laughter cutting straight into Tresckow's heart.
Tresckow did not respond, sitting behind his steaming cup of coffee, with his eyes downcast into the darkened liquid. The aroma of the coffee filled the air, and Nos took it in a with a deep breath, waiting for a response to fill the sudden unspeakable silence that followed his response.
He knew the ambassadors were trying to process the truth from the lies of his statement, trying to gauge reality from the joke. With Nos, it could be anything, and he knew that the ambassadors had already assumed this about himself.
It was Tresckow who bothered him the most though.....because Tresckow would know above all others why he was here. And it was Tresckow who remained for the most part silent since his arrival.
Nos allowed the sardonic grin to spread itself across his face again as he raised his eyebrows and let out a small laugh. "To Tresckow," he added, ending the void the silence had created.
Alec could sense there was some animosity between the two, but he did not know what.
Trying to break the ice, Alec sat back and sipped his vodka martini again, crossing his legs. "Well, comrade Nos," he said, "Why don't you tell us why you are here, what your title is, and whom you represent, yes? Nos is short for what actual name, anyway?"
Alec thought deeply to himself while he waited for a response. Both these two had history, and it will somehow play a factor in this upcoming summit. Perhaps one betrayed the other? Alec thought. Maybe it could possibly be a deal gone bad. Hopefully something more productive than facial expressions will show soon
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos looked at Alec and laughed, but still spoke again to Tresckow. "What's wrong with this man? Is he retarded? He just asked me that!" Nos laughed, letting that grin spread across his face.
Turning to Alec, Nos looked him in the eyes, grinning the whole time, he spoke very slowly, as if challenging Alec's intelligence. "My name is Noskalenaeuroph. I come from The Reich. I serve The Reich. I bare no insignia. I do not have a birthdate. My pubic hair is actually black even though my hair is this blond. I have two scars from my two deaths. I enjoy a good glass of shiraz and steak, rare. I have no children. I have no wife. I do not drive a car. I do not like fish and peas. What more do you want to know?"
Azzan coughed slightly and took his leave for more coffee as silently as he could, softly giving Tresckcow a pat on the back in reassurance. He poured the coffee, listening to the list of lies and half truths spouting from the newcomer. Atleast he knew where Tresckow stood on things, but Nos was pushing Alec's buttons like no tomorrow- if the gaurds were smart they'd be removing the young man from further insult lest Alec strike at Nos and lose what diplomacy there was among the ambassadors and possibly killed by Nos. Azzan nodded to himself as he sat down once more giving tresckow a half hearted smile before the ramblings of Nos went on.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow met Azzan's smile with a half smile of his own, but the smile fell swiftly as he glanced up at Nos, who seemed to be enjoying his ramblings. Drinking his coffee silently, he watched every move of Nos's silently.
Here was a man deadily and cunning, seldom acting without a plan in his mind. Yet, time and time again, Nos had provoked others into combat. It would simply be best to ignore Nos, but he knew that others were unfamiliar with the ways in which this sardonic assassin worked.
If he were here on hire though, who was his target? The thought ran repeatidly through his head. It was hard to distinguish truth from lies with Nos, but Nos often told his very attack to someone who could stop it....problem was few people ever believed him. And what if Nos was not here on business?
Tresckow shook his head from the thoughts inside and resummed his stare at Nos, who had turned to face him again, that grin spreading across his face as if he had read every thought of Tresckow's and wanted him to think exactly that.
"Well Tressy, Tres, Tresckow.....seems you are quiet tonight? Deep in thought? Thinking about the ladies? Thinking about dinner? Or maybe you are thinking about that precious boy of yours?" he laughed again, standing up and pacing the room, grabbing himself a glass of water as he walked behind the chair of Tresckow and leaned on the back, staring now at Azzan.
"What's up this guys ass tonight?" Nos asked Azzan, nodding down with his head to point to Tresckow, if it was not obvious that he had been talking about Tresckow.
Azzan stared intently, "Perhaps he's dealing with a bastard-child of a nuisance, he did have quite a day so you'll have to forgive him for not putting up with petty... annoyances that plague a man of his stature." He drank a sip for courage and went on, "Ofcourse, not all annoyances know their place."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos let out a boisterous laugh that echoed in the room, calling attention from all who heard.
"Surely you do not mean me? Tresckow and I are dear friends, right Tres?" Nos asked, leaning over and rubbing the top of Tresckow's head.
Walking around the chair, he came up to Tresckow's side and placed a firm grasp on Tresckow's shoulder, squeezing hard, letting his long fingers slip beneath Tresckow's shoulder and up under his deltoid. The mischevious grin settled itself upon Nos's face and he tightened his grip.
Tresckow immediately felt a jolt of pain shoot down his arm, followed by tingling which was quickly taken over by a numbess as his arm seemed to give way to Nos's grasp. The cup fell from his limp fingers and spilled onto his pants, pouring the hot fluid down his inner thigh and leg.
He winced with pain but quickly shut it out of his mind as he took measured breaths to stifle any evidence of pain. With his jaw set firmly, he looked to his arm in silence, seeing the paleness that took over it.
Nos again grinned and rested himself upon the chair as he continued to hold Tresckow tightly. "Right Tres, we're good friends?"
Tresckow barely processing the words remained silent still, staring at his arm as the color drained from it more and more. He no longer felt his arm as it hung helplessly in Nos's deadly grip, but he dared not to strike Nos, not when Nos could so easily displace his arm and use it to snap his neck in the process. Nos was a professional and professionals were best not crossed.
Nos laughed, knowing Tresckow had resigned himself over to him. He looked to Azzan with that grin spreading again. "You'll come to see soon enough how close of friends we are. And I think the annoyance plaguing this one is a few floors up and comfortably sleeping in bed, right?"
Alec sneered at Nos. This guy was going too far, and he can tell from the General's look on his face that he was not enjoying this, and Nos must be applying some kind of physical pressure on his shoulder, probably hurting more than that shoulder.
"You know Nossy," Alec remarked, with a hint of irritation in his voice. "In settings that are not as diplomatic as this, I would assure you that you would be losing more than your precious black pubic hair. I advise you now, to back off the general." As he said that, his GSS detail moved in closer to show they meant business.
"Sir," said Simon, who was near Nos. "Step away from the General." The GSS were not one to easily mess with. Having had several grueling sessions of training in not only armed combat, but unarmed combat such as krav maga, muay thai, seven forms of karate, escrima, and other arts, this could prove to be a useful standoff. Showing what Govindia's might truly could be if they were crossed.
Alec didn't like the General, but his opinion of Nos was much worse. Alec finished his drink and sat patiently and waited for Nos to get away from him.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos laughed increduously at Alec, sensing the intoxication within him and the boldness of his words. If a fight were to come down between those two, he definitely held the upper hand. He gauged Alec's guards, noting that although they were prepared to fight, they had not covered the back exit which would provide useful for an escape should he need one.
He could tell they were not guards of The Reich. The level of alertness and movement was uncharacteristic with what he had known. He made note not to make hasty judgements until he saw them fight.
Moving his index finger slightly inward and up, he clenched tighter, sending Tresckow buckling forward in pain for an instant before he regained his composure and sat upright again.
Tresckow maintained the look of steel on his face, a cold resolve that did not move nor flinch until Nos clenched tighter. Grimaces distorted his face briefly with each jerk of Nos's fingers, but he fought to maintain the cold stance of a Reich Heirarchy Member. Showing pain was not custom The Reich welcomed.
He broke his silence then, staring coldy ahead to minimize the effects of the damage Nos inflicted upon his arm. "Enough of this. If you are you are going to kill me, do it now. Do not waste my time. If you mean to toy with us, do so later, we have business to discuss."
Nos laughed, bringing his free hand up to touch Tresckow lightly on the cheeck. "Such an official, just as The Reich likes to see."
Looking to both Azzan and Alec, Tresckow spoke with his respectful and pleasent voice of a peer. "I think now would be the perfect oppurtunity to tell you to be on your guard. There is nothing to be expected except the unexpected. Do not rely on assumptions and do not think you understand what is going on around here. This summit was called in Whitecastle.....the fact that it is being called a summit speaks volumes. We have yet to meet our host, and I must warn you that you should be aware that anything can happen here....anything. And if Nos is to render me useless right now, make sure Alex gets to that summit. I cannot stress that anymore, make sure he sits at the summit."
"Oh yes," Nos added, "do make sure he sits at that summit. In fact, I'll personally assure you he takes his seat at the summit Tres."
"Enough," Tresckow barked, "now do what you must do."
Nos laughed, loosening his grip on Tresckow, "It would have been too easy."
Taking the oppurtunity to wrench his arm free from Nos, Tresckow felt a sharp pain shoot through his arm and into his neck. He felt the burns of the coffee on his leg as he stood up. His arm hung limply down and using his good arm he clasped it and held it close to him as he walked away from them all, not taking another glance back at anyone.
Nos laughed at Tresckow's back, knowing that this would continue later and most likely in privacy. He let the sardonic grin once again spread across his face. "It was necessary," he said to the other ambassadors, as he leaned against Tresckow's seat. "Any questions?"
Alec and the GSS guards moved in towards Trescknow to help him while the the others stood guard at every corner possible.
Dmitriy came with a few guards from Whitecastle. "I saw what happened. Is everything all right?" he asked. "I have this guards here to remove any..unnecessary presence here if need be."
Alec scoffed. "If by 'all right' you mean we almost had a diplomat die because someone wanted to be a sadomasochistic jack-off, then yes, things are chummy, aren't they Nossy?" he said, almost with a near-snarl.
Dmitriy lowered his eyes at this queery elvish looking man. "Look mate, I don't know who you are, but this is a diplomatic function. People are supposed to talk in peace. Now personally, I suggest you behave, or these guards from Whitecastle can see your ass on out. What is your choice?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos stood up from the chair when the guards had arrived. All were visibly angry and he did not even try to suppress the satisfied grin that spread across his face.
"Let us call it an evening gentlemen," he said as he bowed, walking away like an elegant young prince, his hair flowing with the motion of his walking.
Meeting the guards, who defiantly stood in his way, he smiled again, "Excuse me gentlemen. I have matters to attend to. Where are your restrooms?" he asked, shrugging with an ease that somehow managed to make the guards part their ways.
"If you go back to the main hall, there are bathrooms located in the back," a guard responded coldly.
"Thank you gentlemen," Nos politely spoke, turning his back to them as the sardonic grin resummed its place on his face again.
Walking to the main corridor, Nos took the elevators instead, going back to the ambassador's quarters.
In the meantime, Tresckow promptly returned to his room, fumbling with the door before finally opening it. He moved to his bed and sat upon it, holding the limp arm that continued to shoot pain up his arm and into his neck and chest. Grabbing the arm, he wrenched it upward until a satisfying pop was heard and the pain almost instantly eased. He could feel tingling in his fingers, and reassured himself that it was a good sign.
Contemplating now the subtle messages in Noskalenaeuroph's words, Tresckow wondered who Nos's actual target was. He felt slightly assured that he was not the target for Nos played a deadly game and seldom let his prey slip from his hands knowing it was the target. "But who then?" he asked himself as he stared at the wall before him, unable to rest knowing someone's life might be at stake. Whitecastle promised their protection from them and foreign attacks, but they could not gaurentee internal attacks.....there was no way to really stop an ambassador from turning on an ambassador during this summit.
He took a deep breath, contemplating Nos's statements.....there was much truth masked in lies. He let his body slide between the blankets of his bed, resting his head on the fine covering of the pillows. Without realizing it, he had quickly drifted to sleep.
Alex's young figure dance hand in hand with a beautiful woman; her red-orange hair done up in curls and crystals as the long green gown hung elegantly from her slender body. It was Destiny. They both danced at the ball, the presenting of the young Ruhumunahs, their first public appearence as diplomats.
"ALEX!" Tresckow nearly shouted outloud as he bolted upright in bed. He could not believe he did not pick up the emphasis on Alex earlier. "No no no no!" his mind screamed as he scrambled out of the sheets, trying to move in such haste.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
A new set of guards approached the lounge, stopping before the guards all standing there awkwardly, as if something major had just happened. Making note to investigate the matter later, the guards stepped into the room.
"Dinner is ready in the dining hall. Your host wishes you to attend. It is our best wishes that you all are comfortable while you stay with us," the guard spoke on behalf of people who were obviously running the show.
"If you will but follow me, I'll escort you to the dining hall," the guard spoke as he and the others turned and exitted the room.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
OOC: Moved for later posting.
Alec smiled sardonically at the mysterious, yet retarded Nos, then cleared his throat and spoke to the guard who approached. "Very well sir, lead the way."
As they walked, Rajay spoke to the guard who seemed to be in charge of the escort detail. "Sir, as I am a diabetic, I will require some dietary changes to reflect that fact, and I hope your chefs will be understanding and respectful of that fact."
While Rajay got the head guards attention, Alec began speaking with Simon and Dmitriy in Russian, motioning them closer to him.
"[If we do not stop that raving lunatic of a retard, that boy will surely die tonight,]" Alec said. "[Simon, I want you to see if you can get some of your men and see if you can go to the ambassador's floor. Find out where Tresckow's charge is and get him to a secure location. Do the same thing with that General himself. See to it he's ok.]"
"[Yes, sir,]" responded Simon. He motioned to about 5 or 6 agents, and directed them to the direction of the lift, to the Ambassador's floor. The nodded and went that way.
"[I'll follow with them, to reduce suspicion,]" said Dmitriy. Turning to the head escort guard, Dmitriy spoke up, holding his chest. "Sir, I beg your pardon but I will have to join you all at dinner later on. My apologies, but I seem to be having some pain, and I would like to go up and lie down." Turning to Alec, his face had a sad look to it. "I'm sorry Mr. President, but my chest pains have been acting up again and I don't want to risk exerting myself further."
Alec put a reassuring hand on Dmitriy. "Don't worry friend, I'll try to save something for you."
With a queasy look as two guards helped to physically escort Dmitriy, who was clutching his chest tighter, four other guards helped clear the way to the lift, where they moved into it and waited until it closed.
As it went up to the floor, Dmitriy straightened himself. "Very well. Ok, two of you scout ahead when we get off, and look for the boy first. The other two will look for the General. The remaining two will be with me.
When the lift opened, finally reaching the floor, two guards began walking immediately forward and turned right, heading in one direction, while two others headed in the other direction. No one in sight. Dmitriy turned to the left and the remaining two guards followed him as they began to search for the two representatives.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex lay in bed, his breathing slow and deep, the rate and rhythm of one whom was sleeping. It was late evening and he could not remember when he had fallen asleep, just that he felt extremely tired. His body would not respond to mental command so he continued to lie there, hoping that who ever had stirred him from sleep would just assume he was still sleeping.
He heard the faint footsteps on the floor, very muffled, and concealed as well as possible. It was not Tresckow, he knew this by the barely audible sound of the man's steps. It was someone more deadly, someone accustomed to slitting the throats of his enemies in their sleep.
The man stopped before his bed and sat down on it. He sat there for a long time, long enough for Alex to reawake to a hand covering his mouth before he realized that he had fallen back to sleep. He tried to struggle, but his body worked in weak movements, a tight and heavy binding on him.
Letting out muffled cries for help, Alex fought against his assailant. But to no avail, his trashing failed.
Speaking in a whisper, as faint as the wind, the man leaned closely to Alex's ear while his hand still tightly held itself over his mouth, preventing his jaw from moving, "Alex. Stay calm. It's Nos. I don't want to hurt you but you must remain still."
Hearing the name, Alex eased up slightly, but still remained ready to struggle. When he was calm enough, Nos removed his hand slowly from Alex's mouth, and Alex took in a deep breath of cool crisp air. He felt that his body was pinned beneath Nos and found himself impressed with Nos's strength. Even those Nos was twice his age and that he himself was not as strong as most of The Reich Hierarchy, Alex was larger in size then Nos, appearing to be stronger. Nos looked too much like an elegant prince to hold that much strength.
"Can you please get off me?" Alex asked, his voice strained from the weight on his stomach.
"Will you fight?"
"No, just get off," Alex let out, his breathing becoming increasingly labored.
When Nos rolled off of him and sat on the side of the bed, Alex pulled himself up and rested against the headboard. He let his breathing relax before he looked at Nos who stared at seemingly nothing outside the opened window to his room. "What do you want?"
Nos turned to look at him, the moonlight from outside making an eerie look of his profile. "One moment. Do me a favor though, pretend to be dead. You deceive people very well. I had to actually watch your pulse to determine you to be awake earlier. No questions. Just trust me on this."
Without responding, Alex leaned forward and twisted his body as that is face was facing down but twisted to the side. If someone were to walk into the room, it would appear as if Nos just broke his neck and left his body lying on the bed.
"His father would be proud," he thought as he looked down at the barely moving Alex. He had to hand it to Alex, for all the man's evident weaknesses, he certainly knew how to fool his opponents.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Rushing from his room, his uniform in disarray, his shoulder still in slight pain and unfunctional, Tresckow ran into one of the guards that were earlier guarding the ambassador's lounge. He collided into the man with such a great force that both tumbled over.
"Damn it," Tresckow cursed as he scrambled to his feet, wondering if those men were deliberately standing there to prohibit him from getting to Alex in time.
"Damn you! Get out of my way," he cursed, an uncharacteristic remark from a man who was normally composed and respectful.
Running to Alex's door, the men behind him, he tried to turn the knob but found the door lock, just as he suspected it would be. "Damn," he cursed as he threw his weight into the door, trying to futility force it open. Of course the ambassador rooms would be unable to be forced open, he briefly thought as he continued to thrust himself against the door in the dire hopelessness of the situation.
"GET THE DAMN DOOR!" he yelled to anyone who would listen. "Where are his guards? Why aren't they watching him! Damn you! Get a key! Open this damn door now!" he continued to curse as he thrust himself into the door again, feeling his body starting to respond to each body slam with a shooting pain up his neck.
Azzan shrugged off the guard with a well made lie and followed Tresckow, now was a time to make himself beyond that of a friend, but to that of someone Tresckow could trust- cold and calculating on the surface Azzan couldn't dismiss that he had found friendship in both Tresckow and Alex. Presently he came upon a scene that chilled him, Tresckow was desperate, he was half mad and apparently trying to bash down the door. Queitly Azzan came behind Tresckow, and placed his hand on Tresckow's shoulder. "Tresckow, he's alive." Tresckow spun around to accuse Azzan of something horrible before spotting the tracking device, a soft, hollow oh emanated from his lips.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"No...." Tresckow instanstly sank beneath Azzan's hand and stared blankly at the floor, the rushing of heavy boots from armed guards sounding so distant and far away.
Not really processing the words coming from Azzans, Tresckow believed Alex to be dead. The figure on the screen he showed was not moving, and he took it upon himself to assume that had meant Alex was no longer alive, despite what Azzan had said.
"Then we're already too late.... He's dead....," he spoke moreso to himself as his mind emptied it's frenzy and focused one single thought, Alex is dead. He could not even move as guards hoisted him up out of the way.
He found himself being supported by Azzan, somewhere being passed over to him by a guard. The guard fumbled with the keys, finding that something was lodged into the key hole preventing the key from fitting in properly.
After a few moments though, the item dislodged and the guards unlocked the door. Throwing the door open, the armed guards rushed in, followed by the others, Azzan and Tresckow included.
Azzan whispered quietly as to not attract attention, he even covered his mouth so it wasn't to be read, "Tresckow, don't be fooled by what you see." Azzan looked directly at the deathly Alex, somewhere in this room a rat had snuck in... but where. Azzan knew if they searched now people'd be likely to end up dead. Quickly he ordered the gaurds to fetch a stretcher and feigned the work of a doctor inspecting the boy. As the gaurds left Azzan spoke louder, "You definitely know how to give an actor his motivation."
Seeing a group of people enter in the doorway, with Tresckow following, the guards, and Dmitriy ran towards them.
"Stop right there!" the guards shouted. "You need to come with us," said Dmitriy to the General. "Your charge is in danger, and we need to get you two to a safe location. Step back with us."
Whether or not Tresckow paid attention to the guards' order as Dmitriy and the others moved in.
Dmitriy and another guard shivered a little. The window was open, bringing a cool, crisp, and almost chilly air to the room, and to the scene that lay before him.
If the wind wasn't enough to creep him out, the two people on the bed were.
He saw what looked to be the boy, face down, neck twisted, almost as if he just was snapped at his neck in a professionally executed manner.
Sitting on the bed next to the boy, was Nos. The arrogant diplomat who almost killed the General downstairs had their backs to him, as if he didn't care who was behind him, or if he didn't care about anything at all.
For a moment, there is only silence in the room, except the cold wind, and the blowing curtains from the window.
One of the guards took out something from his inner suit pocket, what appeared to be a pen. he Twisted it to open the tip. A normal pen to the regular user. However, a pressured press to the tip of the pen clip, and the non-tipped end of the pen caused a slight "swoosh", deafened by the cool wind, sending a tranquiliser dart into the neck area of Nos. Another guard soon followed, firing another dart into him.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Nos felt the double sharp twinges at the back of his neck. He was not surprised at all and regardless of the fact that his back being to them, he let that sardonic grin of some sort of inner satisfaction spread across his face.
He felt the effects of the tranquilizer overtake his consciousness, first knocking out his vision and then his muscle control. His body slumped forward off the bed, landing face first onto the ground, the wind blowing over him on his way down. Despite being out, that grin still played itself across his face somehow, giving the impression that he was merely playing the effects of the tranquilizer.
Alex heard Nos hit the ground. "Nos?" he asked, as he began to sit up, looking to the edge of the bed where Noskalenaeuroph previously had sat. He could see the slumped figure of his body in the illumination of the moon light.
When Nos failed to answer, he sat up fully and leaned his back against the headboard, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. From his vantage point, he could see their faces clearly; they on the other hand would have a more difficult time reading the peripherary of his face.
He stared at them, wondering how much of this was contrived and why precisely he was required to pretend to be dead. Nos was a man of The Reich though, and knew there was seldom something done without good reason.....even if that reason did not make itself known for a long time.
When Tresckow stared incredulously at him, he spoke respectfully to try to answer questions. "Nos needed me to pretend to be dead," he spoke slowly in a controlled pace, "I wasn't his target, if that is what any of you assume. I actually do not believe Nos is here to assassinate anyone, but I am afraid he did not reveal to me the purpose of his presence here."
Reaching for the glass of water aside his bed, he took a long drink, looking at the armed guards who hoisted Nos up. His head hung limply as they carried him from the room, confirmation that he was indeed knocked out.
With Nos well out of the premises of the room, Alex instinctively rubbed his chest, feeling the slight clenching. It was an unconscious behavior, one he did not realize he did when under duress.
"I think it is time we all should retire," Alex spoke quietly, falling into his mind slowly, losing focus on the situation and remembering a way of life foreign to him now. Fighting to suppress feelings of anger that only naturally appeared when he thought of Destiny now slain, he clenched his jaw.
The subtle hint was enough for Tresckow to now Alex needed his space. Something had transpired that he would not know of and Alex needed time and freedom to work it out on his own. Nodding, Tresckow took three steps backward before turning on his heel and leaving the room, others following in pursuit.
When the room was empty though, Alex reached over to his small bag and removed a small bottle of pills, taking one to ease the tight feeling in his chest. When the moment had passed, he stood up and walked over to the window, the sounds of the ocean in the distance carried all the way to his open window. He looked out, the ocean spreading before them in the distance, the brilliant light reflected from the massive ship awed him. Tomorrow was the summit.....the deciding moment of The Reich's end.
After the door closed, Simon put a hand on the general's shoulder as some of the other guards took out the limp body of Nos. "General, you and Alex will have to come with us.," he said. He briefly glanced at Nos. At the very least, the GSS guards will be able to have him restraints when he wakes up in ten hours.
"What we did was for your safety, and for that young man's as well," he continued. "We will take you to a secure location, under our guard, away from Nos. You will still be able to attend to the business you need to, but under our protection and security."
"Unless whomever Nos is working for wants to go to war when they just got out of a nasty one," Dmitriy chimed in "I don't think they would mess with us. We will place you under our protection, and if Nos's employers or Nos himself causes any serious harm to either of you, we will consider that an action against the Republic of Govindia and her territories."
"Come, and General Tresckow," Simon said, leading them along the way back to where the Govindian delegation was quartered. "We'll get you settled in our area, and then you two will have the time and space needed to rest. I promise. Please get Alex and come with us."
100 miles off the coast of Whitecastle
15th Fleet, Govindian Republican Navy - Marionetsivan Coastal Guard
On board the carrier GNS Pillar of Autumn
Vice Admiral Carol Nixon, commander of the 15th Fleet and captain of the Autumn, a Nimitz-class nuclear powered aircraft carrier, surveyed the location of various ships off the coast of Whitecastle. Most of them were docked in the harbour. Her fleet was not.
They were situated about 100 miles off the coast of Whitecastle, well within international waters, and out of range of most shore defences.
Backed by the full complement of several destroyers, cruisers, frigates, minesweepers, and twice the number of usual nuclear-powered submarines, the fleet was organised in a onion manoeuvre, forming several layers of protection against enemy threats, with the carrier being in the centre. Should that onion be penetrated somehow, the Autumn was more than capable of defending herself.
Carol looked at the radar, then outside the window in the island, where the command centre / bridge on the carrier was located. Such a beautiful place. She hoped President Trevelyan accomplished whatever he needed to, and that this display of force was only nothing more than a necessary layer of protection, as opposed to a instrument of war.
Carol left the bridge, headed to her personal cabin. She told the crew to monitor what's going on and to immediately alert her if anything was developing, no matter how minute it may be. She had some reading to catch up on, mainly mail. She had been away for at least five months, not been able to speak to her husband, or even her children. She worried about them, and her country....
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow felt the vague presence of a hand on his shoulder, slowly bringing him back to reality. Alex was alive, apparently unharmed from Nos. Nos was also heavily tranquilized and being drug down the hall by a large group of armed men. Tresckow found it amazing how so many armed men appeared when for the most part, the soldiers appeared unarmed or out of immediate view.
"We'll get you settled in our area, and then you two will have the time and space needed to rest. I promise. Please get Alex and come with us," Simon said, the only discernible words that he had heard clearly.
He nodded politely, "You are under orders?"
"Yes," Simon responded.
"Then I shall accompany you, but we must allow Alex to rest. Tomorrow will be a tiring day for him as he shall be the voice of The Reich. I want him to be well rested so that he can proficiently perform in our best interests."
Following Simon, Tresckow walked a few steps behind him, noting the ever present guards that preceded and followed them, protecting them from unseen dangers.
Simon had a few guards posted outside Alex's door, supporting the current set of guards already outside there to begin with.
While Simon took point, and the other guards took escort positions, even as they were in the lift, Dmitriy walked side by side with Tresckow, matching him pace for pace.
"General Tresckow," Dmitriy turned to him while they were in the lift. "Before we go join the others at dinner, I would like you to tell me, what exactly is Alex's position in relation to your country, your position, and Nos's as well? What exactly is going on here that we don't know about fully?"
He sighed, then looked at him again. "Govindia will remain neutral. We only acted to prevent any attack on any diplomats, including yours. If it happened to someone from Whitecastle we would have surely done the same. Worst case scenario, we would have evacuated you both to our fleet that's in international waters now.
"We're not trying to infringe upon anything, but we want to better understand the situation without making it worse. Help me help you, General."
Dining Hall, Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
Alec and Rajay silently ate dinner while the guards kept watch over them. The chefs took note of Rajay's dietary requirements, and tried their best to make the dinner for him as diabetic-friendly as possible. His coffee had splenda in it. Blue cheese was used for the salad instead of ranch, and the fish used margarine with its sauce on top instead of butter. Rajay seemed very pleased and was a bit engorged, albeit politely, in his meal.
Alec, however, was eating as well, but there were many things on his mind. This summit, with people whom he still did not know about well. The upcoming vote to allow a referendum on Marionetsvia's independence from Govindia. He saw some of the faces of the other diplomats, looking at him, curious as to why they did not speak a word to them.
Making a nervous smile and a weak laugh, Alec responded, hoping to break their silence. "Great food so far eh? I really do love the way the trout was cooked."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow looked closely at Dmitriy, silently analyzing him with his subtle glances. "What you must understand is that we come from a dictatorship. Knowledge is only given in the amount needed to those who need to know it. We run mostly based off old ideologies of trust, loyalty, dedication, and integrity. We do not fear death as many have accepted it long ago and loss to us is a transitional phase of life, one we must all pass through several times in many different forms."
He continued to walk, now walking alongside Dmitriy instead of behind him. Speaking softly, Tresckow tried to place the entire situation into perspective for Dmitriy, "Alex's role in the bigger picture I do not know. I can only tell you that he is the son of an Atticus Ruhumunah. Yes, the reknowned Atticus of The Reich. The Ruhumunahs had a natural way with people, Alex is obviously loved for this reason."
He stopped for a moment, placing his hand on Dmitriy's shoulder to stop him. He needed to be sure Dmitriy was listening to what he had to say.
"Alex knew the hardships of war since a very young age. Imagine being a young boy, aspiring to be just like your father, then your father leaves for war and the last time you see him is when his body is being carried off a helicopter. The very last image of Atticus to Alex was the bloody lifeless body of his father being carried out of a full helicopter and discarded to the side as other seemingly lifeless bodies were rushed into a hospital. Oh sure, they held a grand funeral for his father. Atticus will always be remembered for his last heroic act of loyalty to The Reich when he took a bullet to save Der Fuhrer and the rest of The Reich Heirarchy. What Alex will never forget is that his father's body was thrown to the side, discarded....expendable. But he came to accept this, especially now that his sister had followed the same path as her father, despite knowing that little may come from that act of altruism," Tresckow offered, a steel look of suppressed emotions forming on his face.
He let the silence of the moment sink those words in, making them much harder to forget, making the imprint of his face on Dmitriy so that everytime Dmitriy was in a silent situation like this, he'd remember this story and remember the sacrifices of this war.
Letting go of Dmitriy's shoulder he turned to walk again. "Nos....where does Nos come into this picture? I honestly do not know. As you can tell, Nos is an assassin of The Reich. He was trained from birth to perform as such. Nos though....he was different....funny. He was the funny assassin. Yes, Nos can be cocky and arrogant, but that has always been part of his charm. He laughes in the face of death and tempts death to claim him. He was shaken up though when he participated in a battle to the death. He came back and was never the same. His arrogance and boldness were not the same. He only ever is the old Nos when he drinks. Something happened to him out there and we still do not know what had happened. He says he cannot be killed, a cursed gift enthrusted upon him from a psychotic angel. Of course, Nos has been known to integrate truth into lies and mesh the both into such an unbelievable story that if when he told you the truth, you would never believe it. It sounds bizarre, yes, especially to those of us here who do not believe in the heavens. But Nos.....I know facts. He survived two chest wounds through the heart. The first I have only seen the scars of but the second one he thrust his own sword into his chest aboard a Callisdruian ship. He did not die from either. They are the facts, the only truths I can give you," Tresckow concluded with a shrug, "Why is Nos here? I guess time will tell."
After another moment of silence where they entered the large dining hall, Tresckow nodded politely to the others already behind their dinners. "Good evening gentlemen. We shall dine with you tonight."
When he was seated and his dinner order placed, he looked over to Dmitriy again, who had sat across the table from him. "Is there anything else you wanted to know?"
Ha, you will never win, I will be sending my elite troops to fight against you, Hail Der Fuhrer
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Slavinsk, if you wish to RP, great, this is definitely the time to do so. Just TG me and we'll talk more about it if you are serious.
As dusk settled over the harbor, the waves were slashed through by the wake of a small boat, skimming towards the docks. Erzsebet sat on the edge of one of the passenger chairs, her tense position betraying the nervous mood that her visage hid. No expression warped the icy features of her face, contrasting so beautifully her fiery green eyes, but one could see from the way she sat that she was practically coiled, like a cornered she-wolf ready to bite if threatened.
She and the Berserkers on board were all quite well armed with axes, pistols and assault rifles. The vampiress knew that she would have to relieve herself of her weapons before entering the summit; of this she had been informed when they had sent word ahead that she was planning to attend (albeit reluctantly and only on the government's direct orders and with apologies for lateness), but it would make a statement, something she liked doing. Besides, how often did people get to see a beautiful (something she never described herself as, but did not protest when others named her such) woman in an elegant dress but with an AK strapped to her back and an axe at her belt (in addition to combat boots on her feet)?
If only I could refuse... she thought to herself, staring out at the glimmering city that her small craft was fast approaching. It was not her wish to again set foot on dry land in any nation involved in this war but Callisdrun. Her last experience had been one of the worst several hours in her life. The sea was Erzsebet's element. Additionally, the admiral didn't like leaving her ships and crews in potentially hostile waters. They were well-trained, in the battle cruiser squadron (First Cruiser Squadron being the unit's formal name), the navy's best sailors. The word "competent" was a gross understatement, as were not merely satisfactory soldiers, they excelled at their tasks. Additionally, they were often fanatical in their patriotism. Abstractly, Erzsebet knew that even if she was not able to get back immediately should an incident occur, operations would be handled in an excellent manner. It was simply an irrational worry, combined with the anxiety about setting foot alone on enemy land.
And who was to say that such fears weren't justified? The moroii was not the type of fool to suffer from the machismo of pretending not to feel fear when one should. Though for some reason she had the reputation of being fearless within her own navy, Erzsebet was far from it. How would the inhabitants of this country feel about a vampiress landing on their shores? The world was often not a very tolerant place (especially for creatures who had to consume human blood to stay alive), it would be silly to expect a country that her own homeland was at war with to be different.
By now, the launch was approaching the quay, and a rope was thrown over to secure it to the dock. Here the small craft would remain until Erzsebet Sorvik returned to her beloved flagship, the black Ithtyr, whenever that might be.
With as much grace as one could manage in the situation (which was a lot, considering how well acquainted with waterborne vehicles as she was), Erzsebet climbed up out of the craft and looked around, face still expressionless, cold beauty covering an inner fiery maelstrom.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Seeing Erzsebet enter the docks, after having been notified of her expected attendance at the summit, a group of men surrounded her upon stepping off from the docks.
"Pardon me ma'am, but you know the protocol," one of the men spoke as he slipped behind her and let his hands gently travel up her sides. Seizing her AK-47, the man handed it to one of the other guards designated to ensure compliance by all parties. His hands stopped at the axe strapped to her belt and as he began to remove it, he saw the ancient marks of her people.
"She'll carry with her a ceremonial axe. The axe poses no threat to us...allow her to keep it."
Letting the axe slide back into position of its own volition, the man nodded as he stepped back. "You have cleared the preliminaries ma'am," he spoke in that professional tone of 'it's just business'.
"Your rifle shall be returned to you when you arrive back here. Shall we go?" he spoke, as he motioned up toward the top of a hill, the lights from the summit shining brilliantly in the cool crisp air of an ocean's night.
He escorted Erzsebet into a waiting vehicle, speaking only small talk, as they headed up toward the quarters....that large white pillared relic from the past. He watched for a response from Erzsebet, knowing it has been a long time since she had traveled in this manner....cars were inexistent in The Dictatorship and have not been seen used since before their war erupted. However, her face was a frozen figure in ice, unreadable and merely fixed upon the approaching building from outside her window.
He sighed as he leaned back into the seat, awaiting the long night to end. His back ached from the constant trekking up and down this hill, mostly by foot as he chased after his keep, one who was recently reported to have been involved in lock-in....the details not yet released to him. He was Alex's keeper, in charge of directing the protection of Alex, and here he was thrown from task to task almost deliberately to be kept away from doing his duty. But the orders came from the top....and he could not go against those orders. Apparently he was the best escort Whitecastle had to offer; his services were demanded in the preliminary searches and greetings.
When they reached the quarters he stepped outside of the vehicle and walked around to open the door for Erzsebet. She stepped out, that elegant grace and mystique of a woman not from Whitecastle. The people gasped, she was far more beautiful then they had expected. Many people had rushed to the quarters upon hearing that another ambassador was arriving, an ambassador from Callisdrun nonetheless. They only heard stories of this strange land beyond and could not fathom the reality of it....having never fought them, it was a land of mystery and utmost interest to the people of Whitecastle.
"Welcome my dear," the escort said as he gently reached for her hand, "they love you," he spoke softly as he motioned his head to the many faces staring in awe.
"Come now, let's move inside. Do you know an ambassador Alex Ruhumunah from The Reich? You shall be rooming aside of him. In a moment I will escort you to your room, but I must momentarily attend to other pertinent matters. If you are tired, you may find yourself there. The Ambassadors Hall is the second floor," he spoke, holding up three fingers as he turned away quickly and rushed down the corridor to receive a full report of what had transgressed during his absence.
As the man lightly frisked her with what she could tell was as much respect as one could perform said action, Erzsebet almost moved her hand to grab her axe and put it back in its proper place, but before she could, the man had already let it fall back to her side.
"Your rifle shall be returned to you when you arrive back here. Shall we go?"
"Yes," the vampiress responded, quietly, tell-tale hiss of a moroii in her voice. "Certainly."
It surprised her that they were taking a vehicle other than an automobile to the summit. She had actually never traveled in a horse drawn carriage before. During the ride the Sorvik did not speak much, replying to questions when asked and in general being polite but not especially talkative. Though she was sure a ceasefire had been called for the purposes of the negotiations, the fact that this country was still at war with hers did not escape her mind. Interestingly, though, the people appeared to know who she was (did they know what she was as well?), and reacted not with fear or loathing, but apparent curiosity and what, if she wasn't mistaken in her assessment, was admiration.
Upon their arrival at a dignified looking old building, she was a little amused to see that a small crowd had gathered to see her arrival. It was all very strange to her, though perhaps she supposed it wasn't all that outrageous for people to be interested in the negotiations that perhaps would end the war that had been raging.
However, it took her a little aback when her escort told her that the people loved her. Erzsebet merely nodded, but inside went through a flurry of questions, perhaps a little of her confusion showed on her face for an instant, despite her attempts to keep her expression neutrally frozen. Why? I am an enemy to them, we are on opposite sides? How could they love me? Answers she couldn't find as her emerald eyes went from face to face.
Unfortunately, none of this was explained as her escort rushed off once she was inside. The vampiress scarcely had time to remove her coat, revealing a sleeveless and shoulder-less black dress (rather modest for Callisdrun, as dresses that only went up to the ribs were fashionable sometimes when it was warm enough for such attire... it was a strange country after all), that contrasted her pale skin, itself marked by tattoos that emblazoned symbols of her clan, nation and political affiliation (as well as twisting thorny vines stretching from her left shoulder to her wrist) on her body forever, as well as scars and bruises from her still relatively recent ordeal, before the man had turned and disappeared down a hallway.
Sighing, Erzsebet decided that she would just find her room by herself. Suddenly, she realized before climbing the stairs that her escort must have either mis-spoken or held up the wrong number of fingers, as they didn't match. Well, if it's not on the third floor, I can always go down a level she thought as she climbed up two flights of stairs. Once there, she calmly looked around and went down a hallway, not being winded at all due to the level of physical fitness she kept to. It was Erzsebet's opinion that she as a commanding officer should always be able to do any of the physical training that enlisted crew members were required to be capable of.
Her room was by Alex's, that much she knew. As she was walking, Erzsebet felt a draft of cold air quite suddenly. Her curiosity aroused, the woman looked around, and noted that it was coming from an open door, which she made her way to, as perhaps it was her door or that of someone who would be able to give her more explicit directions. Pushing it open slightly more, she poked her head inside and started to look around.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Dante awoke as the sun departed. He felt the overbearing void of happiness in the room as his eyes traveled the room to find what he was looking for....Code Six leaning against the wall staring out of the opened window at the deepened hues of dark blue.
Beginning to accept Code Six's presence, he struggled to sit up in bed for a moment, feeling the tight sensation of something constricting his chest and abdomen.
Noticing that Dante was finally awake, Code Six uncrossed his arms, letting his right arm dangle from the previously concealed make-shift sling. He crossed the room and with one arm pulled Dante upright into a sitting position, noticing that his bandages were impairing his mobility. "We had to use binders to secure your wounds and prohibit extensive movements. You tore up our hard work in that escapade you created in the corridors. We need you on your feet quicker then an average man is allowed to recover from such operations," Code Six spoke in this usual emotionless voice, that ice like tone that would chill the core of your bones.
Knowing it was futile to argue, Dante merely sent an icy glare at him while a painful cough raked his body. He winced in restricted pain as his clench tightened around Code Six's arm. "You need to take this off…. I can't breathe," Dante gasped as another cough sent more pain through his body. He struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern but another cough inhibited his progress.
Code Six merely stared at him coldly, no emotion betrayed anywhere on his features, as he suddenly stood up, pulling Dante up with him by the edge of his bandages.
Dante felt the immediate release of restricted breathing as his compressed abdomen stretched out allowing for more room in breathing. He took only a few struggling breaths to compensate from the previously impaired breathing before he quickly regained himself. "Thanks," Dante spoke quietly as he focused on the pressure tight around him, as if those bandages were holding his chest and abdomen together.
Code Six spoke little as he helped Dante over to a magnificent antiqued closet across the room. "Hold here," he spoke as he motioned to the handle on the closet. He walked around behind Dante and bent Dante slightly over, which immediately caused Dante to recoil with a clenched fist.
"I'm taking this off," was all Code Six said as he continued to undue the bandages.
Dante merely fell compliant, trying to accept that he was just a pawn now, nothing more while his fisted hand dropped to his side as if struck itself by a powerful force. In a few moments, Code Six had the bindings removed. With the bandages undone, Dante felt free, his breathing resuming a natural effort.
"I will be back in a moment," Code Six spoke as he turned from Dante and left the room.
Waiting a few moments, Dante stared at the door, waiting for Code Six to turn right back around. When he did not, Dante walked slowly over to the open window, the black sky of night entering with a cool crisp breeze. It brushed past his partially exposed body. He felt the cold air strike his chest as he closed his eyes and embraced the feeling. Clad only a pair of light drawstring pants, his body welcomed the coldness that soothed the fire within.
Pressing his hands against the windowsill, Dante leaned out to take a deep breath of the clean salty air of this ocean sector. Despite their distance from the ocean, the sound of the crashing waves carried up to his room. He could not see the ocean though, as his room was stationed on the back side of the quarters, but Dante suspected Code Six acknowledged the fact that the darkness of the sky and the stars from this viewpoint appealed more to him than the lapping of waves. Dante was always attracted to the darkness and the lights from city on the opposite side of the building were sure to be a distraction to this uneasy soul.
The wind swept past him, the drawn back curtains slightly billowing in the process. He closed his eyes again and withdrew a deep breath that seemed to cleanse his body. Feeling the pain reside with that final breath, he turned at the sound of the door creaking open, expecting to see Code Six there once again. However, he was startled to find an elegantly dressed woman marked with several tattoos standing in the doorway.
The image flashed his mind quickly, vague memories quickly floating to surface and sinking before he could recall that figure.
For a moment he said nothing as he stood fully exposed, the scars of his past visibly marking his legendary survivals while the incisions of the present showed the struggles he still faced. He was vulnerable in that moment, a moment hard to comprehend. No one was supposed to be up in this wing. He was assured privacy, or so he had thought.
He took a step back, slamming into the wall, and falling back onto the open window sill, clutching the sides to save himself from falling backward through it. "Why are you here?" escaped his mouth before his mind could react. He had meant to ask who she was first, but the thoughts only came to him after his mouth uttered the words. In that moment, he was a deer in the headlights, a deer with a quickly fueling rage behind those wide eyes of shock, eyes that began to narrow into a glare.
OOC: Thought I posted this a couple days ago, but evidently it didn't go through >_< /OOC.
"Well," said Dmitriy to Tresckow, nodding in Alec's direction as he saw him talking to a woman, then turned back to the general. "If you can please give us any intelligence or dossiers you have on who is expected here, including from your nation, that would be helpful and would help prevent any assumptions or misunderstandings on our part."
Meanwhile, Alec engaged in conversation, attempting to break the silence that he and Rajay had been doing at the dinner, as they did not know anyone here.
"Oh my, they're just marvellous," said an aged yet elegantly fine woman across from Alec's seat. She was in Victorian-style clothing, wearing a stunning, yet not too elaborate, cyan-coloured dress.
"This is often my favourite dish when I travel," she continued. "Simply nothing else will do."
"Well now," replied Alec, leaning back and grinning, taking a sip of his red wine. "Surely a diet of fish abroad when travelling will eventually become dulll? I mean, there's so much to sample-"
"It's not that I don't dear," she said, waving her hand at him in an obvious sign of diplomatic flirtation. "I do, but for state dinners like these, it's the quickest way to my heart." She sighed blissfully. Alec liked this woman. Rajay smiled, and nodded in humility towards the woman.
"So enough about me," she said, leaning in closer. "So, I haven't seen you handsome men from around here. What brings you two here?" A thought came to her mind, and she lit up gleefully. "I hope you two are single, because it turns out I have been looking for a good man, one I have not had in a little while." She winked and gave a sly grin.
Rajay spoke up, leaning in. "Well m'lady," he said crisply. "Alec is happily married, but I have also been in the same predicament, as you." He extended his hand. "Rajay Vishnu Dhaupal, Defence Minister of Govindia, and this is the President of our Republic, Alec Trevelyan." Alec bowed his head in respect and extended his hand. "My lady."
Rajay continued. "We are here to observe this summit, and eventually find a home for our sole remaining colony, Marionetsvia. We would want to help ensure that, as we are slowly making it an independent nation, it does not become a weak and vulnerable one."
Alec smirked. "Fortunately, it would also have helped things more if we knew anyone, but we are here essentially, as blind as a bat. We just hope that we're flying in the right direction."
Rajay laughed. "I know I am," he said, winking at the Victorian-style woman. "What is your name, m'lady?" he asked her. Alec grinned. At last, Rajay finally may have found someone, but he'll have to see how this goes.
"I was looking for my room," the vampiress said softly. The sound of a moroii trying to speak softly and gently was somewhat interesting, as the hiss made it sound like there were numerous voices whispering at the same time. "My escort was not very clear in his directions."
Noting Dante's nigh-precarious position, Erzsebet added "Do you need a hand or something, it looks like you took a bad step..." indicating the man's backward movement that had nearly sent him through the open window.
"Or would you rather I left you to enjoy this lovely night by yourself?" Clearly, her sudden entrance had startled him. It did not appear that he was expecting anyone outside of perhaps a select few people to enter through the doorway she had just traversed. Erzsebet's question was not sarcastic, but it did have a certain assertiveness to it. If Dante wanted her to leave, he should just ask in a polite and clear manner. Though a very small woman, the moroii's eyes revealed a fierce individual inside the tiny body. There was an animalistic quality in the gaze that she felt no awkwardness or any other problems directing right into the eyes of whoever she was talking to (well, at least most of the time, like all human beings, Erzsy was vulnerable in several ways, but naturally she hated ever letting it show, though such had happened all too often recently).
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"Yes," he muttered quickly, feeling the weight of gravity pulling his body. His finger tips, now white from the pressure forced upon them, began to slip off the surface he held tightly. He could feel his body inch backward slowly, but could not find the strength to pull himself up, as his recent incisions sent a sharp pain wrapping around his thorax.
He felt his body lurch backward some and used his strength just to keep him from falling further. "Quickly," he added, as he could feel his finger tips go numb.
The cool air of the night rushed past him, sending the curtains billowing again. He could feel the crisp air on the surface of his body as coldness, accentuating the areas of his body that he noticed was sweating. His hands felt cold as he looked at them, realizing that they were slipping because the sweat prevented him from maintaining a strong grip.
So focused on the fact that he may very well plunge out of the window, he laughed, a deep reverberating sound from the depths of him that hung in the air. Falling would surely end his current dilemma.
Erzsebet grabbed his arm and used the weight of gravity to hoist him up as she leaned backward. With a coupled boost from the night’s air, Dante found himself surging and stumbling forward, sending them both toppling to the ground.
Finding himself atop Erzsebet, Dante quickly rolled off. A flush of red filled his face and neck; whether from the exertion or the embarrassment, it was hard to tell. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping not to offend this beautiful young woman who had kindly helped him.
Trying to sit up once again, he felt pain, which he quickly buried with a hardened resolve. The rage within was being fueled, the flames ever so slightly rising.
He took a few ragged breaths before looking to Erzsebet. That woman was so familiar to him.....but he could not place anything from his memories to her.
"Did I sleep with you?" his mouth blurted out again before his mind realized that he again had meant to ask who she was. He would have slapped himself in the head if that question didn't raise many questions within him begging to be answered. Had she been one of those countless affairs of his life? Did she serve him? Did he hurt her? Was she here to kill him? Did he know her? Was she someone from his past? Was she the child of someone he had killed? Was she seeking revenge? Was she here to help? Did she know who he was? The questions plagued his mind, but he shut them off as his narrowing gaze returned to her eyes.
The cool air brushed his body, again highlighting the areas that were covered in sweat, his back and chest mostly this time. The sensation caused him to suddenly become aware of his exposed body…a body so riddled with scars that it was a wonder the man was still walking. Being a member of The Original Reich, he had never lost the uncomfortable feeling of presenting a near naked body in the presence of company outside your household. It was deeply engrained as a disrespectful act. In wincing pain, he struggled to his feet to find a robe, but none lay nearby. Walking to the antiqued closet, he opened to reveal several neatly pressed suits and uniforms. He threw them to his side until he found a long black robe which he wrapped tightly around his body.
"My apologies," he spoke to Erzsebet with his back to her as he tied the robe together before closing the door and staring at her. She was now sitting on the ground, a look of confusion at his reaction spreading across her face. He returned to her and extended his hand. "Let me help you up," his deep voice sounded, as he leaned forward placing his leg slightly forward to brace the weight of the movement to prevent further damage to his insides.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"If you can please give us any intelligence or dossiers you have on who is expected here, including from your nation, that would be helpful and would help prevent any assumptions or misunderstandings on our part," Dmitriy asked.
Tresckow nodded politely, trying to accept the customs of this new man from another nation. "I can understand your concerns with the need to know the people here. However, I cannot provide you with that information. As you can see, most of us arrived here with only the clothes on our backs. We had no prior chance to prepare for this summit. Therefore, we cannot provide you with the information you desire. I can tell you that Whitecastle will be providing us with the proper materials to review at the summit. We will probably have an hour to review the materials. From a governmental standpoint providing us with dossiers and other important materials prior to the summit increases the chances that those materials might get into the wrong hands. I can give you some information concerning some of the events and people involved in The Reich as it has been my job for a long time to ensure smooth running of the affairs of The Reich. What would you like to know?"
Stealing a glance at the woman who sat at the table dressed elegantly, he tried to recall who she was, thinking that she looked familiar. She must have been someone from The Reich who he did not have a direct connection to.
"No need to apologize," Erzsebet said as she got to her feet (mostly of her own volition, having seen Dante wince in pain as he shuffled around the room). "And no, I didn't sleep with you," she added, her long fangs showing as she couldn't help smiling in amusement at the awkwardness. "Thank you," she said as her pale hand released his after she was standing. She made a cursory inspection of her dress to make sure it hadn't gotten dirty from the floor, but if there was any dust on it, she didn't see it. Black was a good color that way, in addition to looking good on her.
"Are you cold? I could shut the window for you." The vampiress had of course noted that Dante had put on a robe (his struggle to do so having been obvious). Hailing from a nation in which even public nudity was legal and perfectly acceptable (though very rarely practiced during most of the year because of the frigid weather), the idea that the man had put on additional clothing for the purpose of 'modesty,' failed to occur to Erzsebet. The closest thought in her mind to the idea of donning clothing simply to hide skin was a question of whether he was perhaps self-conscious about his scars. The moroii herself was not averse to showing her recent wounds, as they had been received as a result of wartime activity, unlike the jagged lines around her waste which were the result of a pointless peacetime accident. Those, she did not like to show too much.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Dante clutched the robe closer to his body when Erzsebet asked if he was cold. He felt as if she could sense the discomfort with his scars and turned away from her. "I'll get it," he answered her question, hoping that perhaps he could mask his discomfort behind the cold air of the room.
Walking over to the window, he began to pull them shut, but stopped when he could feel a slight pulling inside his abdomen. Clutching his side quickly, he turned to Erzsebet. It was the first time he noticed the axe at her side.
His mind rushed quickly with a word: Callisdrun
It should have been a give away with those teeth and that hissing accent, but Dante knew not to hastily judge anyone in The Reich. He walked over to a small sitting area of the room and poured two glasses of water. Bringing them over he handed one to Erzsebet and motioned with his now free hand.
"Would you like to take a seat?" he spoke quietly, knowing that he had to rest as much as possible before tomorrow.
Holding his own glass with both hands, he moved over to a seat and painfully worked his way down. Perhaps now it was best not to have removed those stabilizers....he felt like he truly was falling in half....as if his very chest and abdomen would split open spilling his organs onto the floor.
Unable to sit down, a cough sent a splitting pain through him. He groaned as he clutched the edge of the seat, setting his glass down. He had one day to control this pain....only one day. Grabbing his abdomen, he began to sink to his knees before he regained himself and turned to Erzsebet.
"I am afraid I'm not as young as I once was," he spoke with a slight upturned grin, trying to give some sort of explanation about his erratic behavior without revealing his identity to her....given she did not know who he was yet.
Letting a moment of silence fall between them as the cool air still filtered into the room, he took a deep breath in, trying to instill that calm he momentarily experienced.
In a deep calm voice, he turned his gaze toward her, "Who might you be? Do we know each other? Do you know..." but his voice trailed off as a sudden realization struck him. There was a deep pain in her eyes, a suffering that could never be erased. Only those who truly suffered could see it. It was well concealed, but it was there.
"You've been hurt...." he stated slowly, drawing out emphasis on the hurt, "what happened?"
Outside Alex Ruhumunah's room, Ambassador's Quarters - 2nd Floor, Diplomats' Quarters Hotel
The three GSS agents nearest the entrance of Alex's room kept watch, guarding the entrance to the ambassador's room while the Whitecastleian guards patrolled the rest. There had been no threats to Alex since the incident with Nos, and hopefully it stays that way.
"What are we supposed to be doing here anyway?" one agent asked his other three colleagues. "I thought we were supposed to be protecting our people. Not some foreigner from some nation we don't even fucking know."
"Hey, watch your fucking tongue there," warned of the other agents in a soft but harsh tone, the senior officer of the four. "That person is vital to this summit, and we need to see that any diplomat that we interact with gets protected, if not by Whitecastle's guards. President Trevelyan knows it is in our interests. Pierce isn't some half witted dumbass. He knows where and when agents need to be posted, depending on the situation. I suggest you remember that next time you even think of questioning your orders when it comes to protecting our government officials and all related contacts. Understood?"
The other guard hastily nodded. "Yyyees, sir," he stammered out, then as the senior agent moved back to his position, he straightened himself as the rest remained on watch.
Dining Hall, Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
"Simply put," Dmitriy said to him. "Well for starters, who do you expect to be here from all the nations involved? How much do you think they will want to extract from The Reich? What do you know of the other nations & leaders?" He took a sip of his wine and began to eat some of his food. With so much activity going on, he was very hungry. He hadn't eaten anything, not even lunch on the flight to here, since this morning.
He looked sheepishly at his food than back up to the General. "Please forgive me for my manners. I'm starving and I've not had anything to eat since the english muffin this morning. However, I still would like to know as much as possible."
Meanwhile, Rajay was trying to engage in conversation with a very interesting and attractive lady he and Alec just met. Alec merely sat back and observed the conversation, continuing with his meal. He wanted to see how this ended up before he started speaking again.
"Oh, my name!" the lady said, taken aback, as if offended. "Where are my manners? Silly me! " She laughed. "I am Dame Lindsay Sutherford, Lady of Baadensturm, in The Reich. Unofficially, I have ....other duties." She winked and gave a sly grin.
"Well, " said Rajay, a bit surprised. "That is simply, astounding."
"It is, isn't it? And now with the summit, I have come to see things through, and hear what Alex has to say for The Reich. Hopefully, with all the shit-fests that have been going forth in this past war, there can truly be peace and harmony in this region."
"One can hope, m'lady," Alec interjected. "Never give up hope in something so dear as that."
"Had we given up hope long ago," Rajay said, "Govindia wouldn't be unified, and still would have gone more than the 20-plus years it took for our civil war to finally end." Rajay shook his head. "Those were sad times, but the end result was peace, and a strong unified Republic."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex stared out into the night, the cool air sending shivers down his spine. He watched the deep black churning of the ocean in the distance as black specks intermingled with the lights of the city below.
He stepped back from the opened window and began to return to his bed before he realized how hungry he was. He did not eat since that woman invited him into her household.
Grabbing his uniform jacket he quickly threw it on, making sure to cover any visible signs of the central line before walking out the room. The light in the corridors, although not too bright, was a sharp contrast from the darkness of his room. He stood awkwardly blinking for a moment until his eyes readjusted, where he then noticed the guards surrounding his room.
"I am allowed to leave?" he asked, feeling suddenly trapped and confined to his room as if he were not able to leave. "I am feeling hungry. I would like something small to eat," he spoke to the nearest guard, feeling a dizzy sensation begin to surface from the hungar within. His stomach let out a grumbling pang of hunger and he grasped it unconsciously.
It pained Erzsebet to watch him in such pain. It reminded her of how her life had been for her for a time after it had happened. After helping close the window, she sat down on a chair by the bed, heeding his suggestion. She knew his comment about no longer being young was a jest, but in the circumstance, she couldn't laugh. Though the world had worn away at him, she estimated that he couldn't be much older than she was.
The vampiress assisted Dante to the bed, helping him to sit. Though he probably didn't like accepting help from others, it looked to her as if he might further injure himself somehow without it.
Again sitting back in the chair, Erzsebet was about to explain to him who she was and a little about herself, when suddenly Dante asked a question she didn't expect at all. At first, she thought he was talking about the bruises from her recent captivity, but the vampiress realized before an answer could be formulated that he wasn't looking at her bruises. He was looking right into her eyes. How can he see it? she asked herself. It had been just under ten years ago now. That doesn't matter Erzsy, you know it still hurts she heard in her mind. It did still hurt. The wounds had long since healed up, leaving ugly jagged scars, but in the back of her mind, where she had hidden it away, not wanting to look weak, the pain still resided. The broken dreams of a life she could no longer live, the memories of plans made that had been overtaken by events.
Despite the hard exterior she had constructed to hide the grief, somehow, he'd been able to see, if not what exactly had happened, that something had gone wrong, in just a couple minutes.
It took Erzsebet a minute to gather herself enough to answer. "When I was nineteen, almost twenty, I was a turret commander on the battlecruiser Varghona, in the second turret from the front. I and another crew member were in love. We had planned after our tour of duty to go reserve for a while, get married and raise a family. It was the best time of my life." She explained it slowly, forcing the words out. Why am I telling him this? she thought suddenly, but before she was done asking, she knew the answer. He had seen that she had suffered, and had been concerned. He deserved to know, not to be brushed off with a lie that she was fine. "Until one day, when were on a training exercise, target practice with the main battery, you know, usual type of thing to keep our skills solid." As she continued, her voice grew almost imperceptibly shaky, and she lost a bit of control over her accent. "And the turret in front of ours exploded. The investigation was never able to conclude exactly why, I suppose we were all lucky that it didn't destroy the entire ship." Clearly, this was a terrible memory for her. It went without saying that the men and women of 'A' turret had been friends of hers. "A number of us in our turret were wounded. My love was relatively unharmed, but some shrapnel hit me..." she then put her hand just under her waist, "right... here..."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Dante felt a pang of confused emotion within himself. He want to reach out and touch her knowing how important human touch was to conveying empathy but his past taught him any display of emotion was a flaw, a weakness to be exploited. These warring thoughts played out in the raising of his hand and sudden stop where he mediated between reaching out and dropping his hand.
Letting his hand drop and rest on his leg, he nodded to her; it was all he could manage to do as her own pain gripped at him as if the very incident had happened to him.
"Sit aside me," he spoke quietly with his head hung low, his deep thoughts trying to reach out.
When Erzsebet sat beside him, he reached out and took Erzsebet's hand, placing both hands on her lower abdomen, slightly above any area of intrusion. He said nothing as he let his hand rest on top of her hand; he sat silently as he felt the reflexive shudder of memories travel through her hand. "You lost more than just a life," he said with awareness of what the injury had done to damage her.
"It hurts," he said, "a residual pain that comes with memories. And you lock those memories away...naturally...they hurt. But you don't escape them. And even if your mind goes through hell and back...deep inside is buried that knowledge that something great is missing," his voice spoke softly, empathy and pain filling it.
He let his hand rest on hers for a moment longer before withdrawing it. Hesitantly, he brought his hands to the ties of his robe and undid them. He traveled past the recent incisions, past the legendary scars, and brought the top of his pants down slightly to reveal a mangled scar right above his groin. "I understand. Most of the time I can barely sustain an erection, the bullet traveled through my artery and I profusely bled out losing blood flow to vital areas of my reproductive system. I am lucky, I can still have children, mostly by artificial means, but it is a difficult and painful process. I am often reminded of what happened the day of this wound, my mistress intended to kill me. Generous enemies fought to save me. I discovered a daughter I never knew I had. In one moment all I thought I understood about my life was toppled over. I had a daughter I would never see again. I did not see myself living past that moment. I often wondered what was better, having no children or being a horrible father. I can tell you that you'd make a great mother. Beneath that cold exterior we have to play to keep ourselves together and keep others from prying into a pain they can scarcely imagine, you have that maternal instinct. The child may not be of your own and I deeply regret that it cannot, but should you choose to find alternative ways, I can tell you would make a good mother."
Dante let his words hang between them momentarily before he spoke softly, "I'm sorry for your loss."
If it was one thing he understood well enough without being a woman, it was the pain of suffering from lost dreams and a life to be. He could understand that when he was forced to give up his life to imprisonment.....was it fifteen?....twenty?.....an uncountable number of long brutal years in isolation within a maximum security prison. He understood the loss of oneself in those moments, the silent rage that festers beneath the surface, the blame, the anger, the pain and hurt....they were all concepts he could understand greater than some.
But a cough tore through him again and he struggled to splint his abdomen against damage. He could feel the pressure pushing and pulling on vital organs, tearing within him, pulling apart the extents of some sort of surgery he did not know. He groaned as he clutched his abdomen. One day the thought plagued his mind as he took a few staggering breaths to reclaim a sense of decreased pain.
He tried to muster a grin that failed.....how could he pretend in front of her? She opened her heart to him. There was no point trying to playing the macho man when she knew well enough he suffered greatly too.
"Sir," said the startled agent from earlier to the senior agent who berated him. "What do you want to do?"
"One moment." The senior agent stepped aside, away from Alex's ear shot, as he spoke, as if to a ghost, even though it was obvious he was speaking through the ear piece microphone set issued to all GSS agents.
After about a few seconds, he returned. "Alex, the dinner is still going on and there is plenty of food available. There is a empty seat reserved next to General Tresckow for you, near our external affairs minister."
He took out a apple cinnamon cereal bar and gave it to Alex. "This should at least keep your stomach satisfied, or at least until we get to the dining hall. Now, if you'll follow us please? "
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Taking small cautious bites of the cereal bar, Alex was relieved to find his body did not react badly to the food. It felt good to finally eat something, even if it was only something small. He walked in silent reserve as they headed down to the elevators, only a few words of small talk being passed between them. It was obvious that Alex's thoughts were not in this moment, but somewhere retracted into internal reflection.
Being escorted into the dining hall, Alex walked around the table next to Tresckow and waited for the customary nod of acceptance before taking his seat.
Looking over the menu, he placed it down, unsatisified with the selections. "May I please have a glass of sahalask," he spoke, recalling the name of the sweet drink he received from the woman. "Also, I would like some verrerria please."
A thin smile spread across the mouth of the attending man, amused that this foreign ambassador was well versed in native specialities. It was true what they were saying about him.
Alex remained quiet as he listened to conversations currently taking place. He sat in that silent reserve of his as if he were taking in everything around him.
Dmitriy noticed Alex sit down next to the general and smiled. "Hello Alex, how are you doing sir?" he asked, extending his hand to him. "I hope you are doing well? I hope we did not offend you by what happened....earlier?"
Meanwhile he noticed Rajay and Alec sitting on the other end, having some entertaining conversation with an elegant woman. At least he was interacting with others voluntarily. He smiled.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
"Well for starters, who do you expect to be here from all the nations involved? How much do you think they will want to extract from The Reich? What do you know of the other nations and leaders?" Dmitriy asked.
Tresckow watched as Alex entered in that moment. Alex stood until they nodded, then assumed his seat next to Tresckow.
Tresckow let Alex order his dinner, which consisted of items he had never heard before, items that were not on the menu. He understood though, Alex had a way with people that came all too naturally.
"Other then our current ambassadors, I do not know who to expect. We are sending Alex to speak for The Dictatorship and The Reich, I am speaking on behalf of The Supreme Council, Nos is here for who knows what, and there are you all. Whitecastle will probably have their current leaders speak. After Perry and Nye's exertion, we have been unable to follow the situation in Whitecastle so we do not know who currently ruins the nation," Tresckow answered as fully and politely as he could.
Thinking about his other questions, Tresckow took a few bites of his meal before continuing, "I have no idea what Whitecastle wants from us. Usually we were able to predict what was going to happen based off of who was governing the empire, but now we do not know who is governing the empire and what they want from us.
"What of the other nations and leaders? I cannot speak much for you all as our dossiers have not yet been developed. Also, our security system does not have you logged as a Reich Member so we keep that information readily available. Whitecastle has always been a forerunner in The Reich, one of the major strongholds of Dante's original Elite Empire. Dante seized the nation under a leader named Brock, having done so right under the man's nose. He later executed Brock as a statement. Ever since then, he reconstructed Whitecastle to be what it is now. Whitecastle was falling by the wayside before Dante incorperated it into his Elite Empire. This nation is full of history and Dante used it as his primary Reich based nation to organize his troop movements. I would not under-estimate the power stationed in this nation," Tresckow rambled momentarily before he stopped. "Did that help any?"
So far Alex seemed a bit silent. Dmitriy was not sure if he was recovering from the shock of earlier, or if he had other things on his mind.
"Sir are you ok?" he asked him.
He then turned back to the General. "Yes General, that helps a great deal," he said to him. "There are alot of power plays going here, stuff that the Marionetsvian leadership will need to understand and follow on after the referendum."
"Who is this 'Perry and Nye'? Would you mind telling me a bit more how Whitecastle's government is structured, as well as yours? I only know about the structure of government The Reich is in, but not much else. As for what is expected of you, I only hope your nation still can keep its dignity. One can only understand the consequences of being forced to humiliate a nation, no matter how much the war was ravaging."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex looked up to Dmitriy as his food was brought to him. A glass of strange sweet smelling liquid was placed in front of him as well as a plate with a bowl of thick red viscous fluid, almost that of blood, and a plate of a small cubes of something unidentifiable.
He could smell the strong aroma coming from the small cubes and waffed the smell toward him.
Politely he spoke to Dmitriy, "I am fine, thank you sir," as he resummed his silence and picked up a small cube with a fork. He dropped several small cubes into the bowl of red liquid and let them sit as he turned his head toward the others, listening to their conversations.
Tresckow merely watched them both briefly as he took a sip of his coffee, "Nye and Perry were two strategistics who saw the value in the united Elite Empire. After Dante disappeared, his empire was dismantled by rogue leaders who wanted to seize that power for themselves. However, none of them could coorperate and each tore the great nations away one by one. Nye and Perry knew the strength and power that came from reforming Dante's empire and worked together to do so. They actually successfully re-established most of his empire while incorperating The Dictatorship and other Reich nations that they seized into the empire. However, Nye was stopped at The Depths of Hell...." Tresckow trailed off remembering the bloody scene that occured that night.
He pushed past those memories to the other questions though, "I do not own a nation. I am head of The Supreme Council, we sit at the center of The Reich and ensure that The Dictator's decrees are followed throughout The Reich. We also ensure that everything flows smoothly. Occassionally we make decrees ourselves and we attend to minor details of Der Fuhrer. Overall, we are the voice of The Dictator, established by Der Fuhrer Dyszel. Whitecastle now.....Whitecastle is a form of a republic. For the most part the government is instilled to help people access information. They have a figurehead which is a person who speaks for the people in all affairs. Periodically that figurehead holds power, like Dante. Dante was a military man who was made figurehead, so he ended up holding a great deal of power and sway over the people. This nation for the most part still holds Dante as their core power. They loved him....I wouldn't speak badly of Dante here, even though he had done terrible things to our people and region."
Dmitriy thought for a moment, and laughed a little. "My my, this is rather interesting." He thought for a moment, then said, "I wonder how many of these nations in this region are either oligarchic or authoritarian in nature?"
He watched Alex just observing people's conversations, then whispered to the General. "On a different note, I hope Alex is well. I did not intend to harm him or you. We wanted to protect you both, and that is why our guards did what they felt was necessary to remove Nos without killing him. I hope neither you nor him thinks ill of us." He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his wine. "The government in Marionetsvia will have to choose wisely. If the referendum goes through, there will not be a Govindian fleet, or troops to come to their rescue. They will be on their own. If they choose to support someone here, they better prepare for any consequences, or any new freedom they will get, will be short-lived."
He pointed the General to Alec and Rajay, who were still talking to that same lady before. "Look at them. Alec has been our president for quite some time, and he's halfway through his fifth term in office. He really has a strong reputation. If something major hit the fan, it will really depend on how he rides it. He can be shrewd sometimes, but he cares about his country. So does Rajay, our Defence Minister. He has tirelessly worked hard to get the miltiary to become the top-notch force that we need, even despite budget fights in Parliament. The Greens and Islamic Communists really have made it a tough battle. He spent so much time in it that it essentially cost him his marriage. For his wife, a lovely Gujurati, it was either her, or his career. That was nine years ago.
"With Alec, I never knew how he manages to run both a 10 billion country, and keep up with his family. He lucked out, unlike Rajay. Alec will always defend what's dear to him. He equates his nation just like his family. He views Govindia, as an extension of his family, extra children if you will, and Marionetsvia, as his nephew. He has always protected this democratic republic from both internal and external threats, and devoted quite a while into unifying the country during the Unification War. A lot of people lost close ones in those twenty-some years. You can be damn sure he will do what is necessary to make sure that Govindia stays unified, as will I. I will also make sure that we keep good relations with all our neighbours and allies, and to invest in new ones as well."
He took another sip of his wine. "You told me what you knew, and I appreciate it. I told you what you would have liked to know about my nation, and about all of us present, to better understand Govindians like the ones you see here."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex continued to watch the others despite the slight pang of hungar returning to him with the sweet smells of food before him. He even managed to pick up a bit of the whispered words to Tresckow, but paid no particular focus to those whispered conversations. He seldom was curious to know what others thought or spoke of him, or even what others talked about in silence. Born of his father, what was important was only what was revealed to you....he had learned this early in his life.
Tresckow stole a glance at Alex in his silent repose, and turned back to Dmitriy. "He has mastered diplomacy well," Tresckow thought as he held the image of Alex in his mind. So much potential....a shame it would never see beyond this summit.
Returning to his dinner, Alex removed one of the soaking cubes and let the thick fluid drip off of it for a moment before slipping it into his mouth. The gross combination was enough to make people sick to the stomach knowing the ingrediants, but it nonetheless was the most astonishing food he had eaten. Removing another cube, he ate that just as quickly....there was no Reich equivalent to this food.
In the mean time, Tresckow looked to Dmitriy, "With all due respect, what we find amazing here is how Der Fuhrer Dyszel managed to solidify The Reich under a Dictatorship....such fierce independent leaders joined her side. And I can try to understand that ten billion may be an heafy load to handle, but try to understand that you are in the legions of history. The Dictatorship's direct control extends to some fifty billion alone, add in those who are under The Dictatorship's influence and you have nearly five hundred billion. That is not even close to comparing to The Elite Empire which extends at three hundred billion under the Empire's rule and influencing much greater than that. Not to mention The Elite Empire has both Whitecastle and Mahanoy....two independent forces to reckon with alone, yet combined. I do not mean to diminish you, as we were once a young nation and those numbers seemed great to us at one time as well, but you will just have to understand that numbers are obselete to us as they are too ridiculous to factor into anything any longer. We play with crushing numbers here so we just eliminate them from most discussions. Know that Whitecastle is power and The Dictatorship is its opponent. Know that Mahanoy wields the most power and is a force of itself to reckon with. Be grateful Mahanoy has kept to its side of the world or we would surely be.....Goodness Alex, what are you eating!" Tresckow could no longer restrain himself as the smell constantly assaulted his nostrils.
With the fork in his mouth, Alex's stunned face turned itself to Tresckow, the small cube sitting on his tongue. He chewed it quickly and gulped it down, taking a sip of that sweet liquid in front of him. Alex did not say anything but merely removed one of the cubes from the bowl and slid it onto Tresckow's plate slowly.
"What is it?" he continued to ask as he brought his own fork to prodding the cubed substance, "You don't really expect me to eat that, do you?"
"When in The Reich....." Alex spoke firmly.
"Do as The Reich does," Tresckow finished, shaking his head at this young man's knowledge. "Very well," Tresckow spoke, understanding finally that it would insult the people of Whitecastle to reject their customary foods before trying them.
"I must know, is that blood?" Tresckow asked, nodding to the bowl of viscous deep red fluid.
"Try it," Alex said, pulling out another cube and passing it along to Dmitriy.
When his fork was returned, Alex placed more cubes into the bowl and pulled out the remaining soaking one, leading the sampling by thrusting it into his mouth first.
Tresckow pushed the smell away, assuming that one grew accustomed to the smell over time, as Alex oddly seemed to be. He quickly threw the cube into his mouth and chewed it, finding his an oddly spicy and sweet taste. "Wow," he mumbled with lost table manners as he swallowed the cube, "that's good! What is it?"
Alex swirled the cubes inside the bowl with his fork. He spoke nonchalantly, as if the combination was casual, "It is a meat, fruit, and vegetable based I want to say cracker, but that's as close to it as you'll understand in The Reich. It's almost a cross between bread, a cracker, and a meatball, but it contains the heart of Jakula, a native creature to Whitecastle. The problem is, you have to wait until the Jakula dies a natural death because when they are slaughtered, their body releases a toxin that poisions the heart. Also, their bodies release chemicals during the dying process that are soaked into the heart after the body sits for a day, which gives it that distinct spice taste. And only naturally do you soak it in the Jakula's blood as it also absorbs that sweet spice taste from the chemicals. Of course, the blood is heated to kill off any contiminants and mixed with a wine based sauce to reduce the metallic taste. It is a delicacy among Whitecastle and people usually pay a great deal of money for a small serving. My father brought the receipe home when we were children, after having made many trips to Whitecastle. We used to pay a heafty sum to have a Jakula imported, but we usually made the dinner on special holidays. Now you understand why the Ruhumunah family holidays were among the most interesting gatherings to attend in The Reich. Every year my father would bring home a new delicacy from another place, but the Jakula feast was always a given. Our Jakulas would die at random times throughout the year though so during the holidays we usually paid a great sum to have a dying one imported so that our Jakula feast would be fresh. My father had a way of incorperating the other cultures into our own. He was very...." but Alex trailed off as his shut his off thoughts from returning to those times.
"What do you think of it?" he asked them both, noting the slight sense of quesiness playing at their faces.
Dmitriy looked at the cube that landed in his plate from Alex. After hearing the description, he made a slight cringe at the dish. He had no idea what this "jakula" was, but it seemed intriguing. He has tasted foreign dishes before, so this couldn't be too bad.
He popped it into his mouth and ate it carefully, taking in the ingredients and sweet spices. Taking in the taste, he smiled then drank some of his wine.
"Pretty good," Dmitriy said to Alex. "I think I found my new favourite dish in this place."
Getting up for but an instant, Erzsebet sat beside Dante. She made no move to protest as he brought his hands around hers and rested them both on the place beneath which, ten years before, her womb had existed. Though in another circumstance one might interpret the touch as an intrusion into her personal space, it was not. If he was worthy of enough trust to tell what had happened to her, she was able to trust him this close physically as well. She could tell his intentions were kind and it was true that sometimes a simple human connection could be more helpful than one might think.
Dante commented that she'd lost more than just a life. It was true, for in total, she had lost the lives of the children she would now never have, and the grandchildren and possibly great-grandchildren that would never exist, as well as the life she'd dreamed of for herself. The idea of a vampiress dreaming of being a mother might sound strange to some, but family was important to moroii, and Erzsebet had indeed seen her future as a happy one with a husband and wonderful children. No, one could never forget the memories, since besides the accident itself, even the memories that would have been happy otherwise, she and her boyfriend planning their wedding and what sorts of things they'd furnish their home with, where they would travel on their honeymoon, which quarters in Sorvik Castle (moroii women traditionally returned to their clan's home to have children with their husbands) they wanted, and other such things, all the memories that would have been beautiful were now painful reminders of the future that was gone for her.
Listening to Dante's description of what had happened to him, when he showed her his scar, made her wonder at which was a greater cruelty that life had dealt... her having her dreams crushed just before they were to begin, or Dante's seeing a child he didn't know he had and then losing her abruptly again. The vampiress contemplated his suggestion to try alternative means. She blushed slightly, to the extent her skin was capable of doing so, at the compliment of him telling her that she would make a good mother. It was a compliment, though some might not expect her to take it as such. Her reputation, inside Callisdrun, and probably outside as well, was mainly for her fiery temper, aggressive tactics and also for her physical appearence, not her maternal instinct... though... her crew actually would probably differ.
"I don't think alternative means will work for me... I know adoption is noble, but it's not the same... and I have eggs still, but another woman would have to carry it for me... and that just... well... I don't know," she trailed off.
When Dante coughed, he was quite visibly in a great deal of pain. Erzsebet instinctively reached over and patted him ever so softly on the back, hoping that although she knew it would not actually make a difference to the function of his insides, whatever was causing him such pain, it might make him feel better on an emotional level.
Impulsive at times, the she couldn't explain the reason for what she did next. It seemed fair to her. Since Dante had bared what might be a source of shame for himself, to Erzsebet, the right thing was to do the same. "Since you showed me yours..." she began, as she loosened the top portion of her dress and then pushed it down. In Callisdrun, nudity was not a social taboo, so she felt no embarrassment or shame in exposing her breasts, the nipples pierced through with metal rings that glinted slightly.
What did make her feel self-conscious lay below her similarly pierced navel with the encircling tattoo around it. She pushed her dress far down just enough so that one could see, crossing her ghostly skin, the jagged scars that still remained even after almost a decade. They were discolored, standing out in sharp contrast to the skin around them, two of them rough and twisted, one, clearly a former incision, much cleaner and thinner, lying directly over the cavity where her uterus once was. With the size of the scars, it was obvious why it was there no longer. "Somehow my bladder wasn't too damaged to repair. I guess that's how it goes sometimes." The last sentence sounded hollow, as if it had always been meant to make it somehow feel better but had always failed well short of that goal.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Dante could not believe his eyes; no words of Erzsebet could have prepared him for the extent of damage. It was clearly obvious why her uterus was unsalvageable. He took in the image, a memory struck him suddenly, painful in recollection....a knife in his hand, savagely cutting into the neck of the man who was his best friend, the warm blood spilling onto his hands as he thrust the knife aside and kicked his friend down into the dirt. His own laughing resonated within his head.
He imagined that if Mathias were here at that very moment, the three of them could have the must screwed up tea party in history, comparing the scars and pains of their past.
"Never loose the capacity to love dear," his pained eyes focused into hers, revealing that true horrors lay behind the eyes of this man....that the past he lived through was unlike anything anyone could imagine from his outer appearance. Beneath that hard resolve he buried himself behind, Erzsebet would glance for just a moment, a great depth of sorrow, suffering, pain, understanding, and empathy. But in a flash it was gone as Dante's eyes darted towards the door.
A man stood there, a look of shock in his face that a half naked woman stood before their reserved leader as if they were about to become involved intimately.
"I....I can come back...." the man said, obviously taken aback.
Flushing quickly, Dante realized what the man had probably thought, knowing too that his robe remained undone, indicative that he was also preparing for some intimate act between them. He rushed to tie the robe, realizing only a moment too late that it would also confirm the suspicions of the man that he had caught them in the act before it began.
"You must go," Dante's formidable anger returned in his deep resonating voice, a flash of rage burning behind his eyes now. The anger was held at bay by embarrassment, but it was obvious that the empathetic and compassionate side of Dante was now gone.
Without waiting for her to leave, Dante stood up, holding the pain at bay by that internal inferno burning inside of him, and turned his back to her, walking toward the window. He stared out at the window, catching only a glimpse of what might have appeared to be an upset woman in the window before the woman fixed her dressed and turned her back to him.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex finished his simple meal before the others, who ate slowly and talked of politics while he for the most part only observed their conversations while continuing to eat.
When he had finished, he nodded to the men before standing up, bowing to his dinner guests and again bowing to those who had helped bring him his meal, "Send my best to the cook. It was a wonderful meal."
Without another word, Alex left the dining hall, the assigned guards taking up their flanks once again as they escorted him back to his room. Before entering the opened door, he thanked the guards and wished them a restful night before he himself closed the door and retired. Removing the jacket, he walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. Playing with one of the tubes coming out from beneath his clavicle, he thought of just how vulnerable this small plastic device had left him....accidentially pulling it out would result in a steady blood flow out of his vena cava which would consequently bring a quick death. Injecting anything into any of the ports would surely bring sudden death if it was incompatible with life or with his body. But it was a primitive Reich measure to keep him alive. The Reich always resorted to primitive means when treating the most prestigious members. Taking a pre-filled syringe of an almost shimmering translucent fluid, he removed the cap from one of the ports and injected the liquid into it before recapping it. He felt instantly dizzy, remembering the advice Tresckow gave him from the doctors stating that he should not give himself this medication without lying down. Stumbling, he clutched the sink for support, his vision blurring quickly as his heart pounded slowly but strongly in his chest. He groaned, dropping the syringe, which landed in a clinking sound within the sink. In the process, he managed to knock over the bag that contained his medications, spilling the pre-filled syringes, vials, needles, and pill bottles onto the floor. Stumbling out of the bathroom, he managed to make it to his bed before collapsing, half on the bed, half off. His body slid off and lay hunched at the edge of the bed, as he quickly fell to sleep, his head rolling off to side without control.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
It was no use trying to right the situation, she knew. The tender moment that had been shared was over, destroyed by the unexpected intrusion and ignorant (in her eyes) assumption that more had been going on than had in reality. It was surprising how hurt and upset one could feel over something with a person who one hadn't even known that long. Still, Erzsebet felt like an idiot and that she was partially if not mostly at fault. Having become emotionally involved in her conversation with Dante, she had forgotten momentarily that nudity and sex were inextricably linked in many cultures outside her own, when they only went together when one wanted them to (as nudity could just as easily be associated with swimming).
As she left the room, only able to murmur a quiet "I'm sorry," (as anything more would have made it obvious that her voice was shaking... both with hurt and rage), the vampiress saw the offending messenger outside. Before walking down the hall, she shot him a venomous glare, so hateful that it was clear that he had assumed incorrectly and possibly cost both her and Dante a friendship. She wanted to rip the messengers throat out right then and there and it showed in her expression.
Soon, she was away and walking downstairs, in a very sour mood still, thinking about Dante and the moment that had been ruined. It had been an intimate experience, though lacking in any sexual elements at all. The time had been purely one of closeness and understanding. It was a shame that it had been ended so badly.
She could smell food nearby and hear voices talking, coming from a set of double-doors that probably led into a dining room of some sort. Without further ado, Erzsebet pushed them open and entered.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow turned his attention toward the door, noticing the subtle silent beauty that had just walked through them.
"Hello m'lady," Tresckow spoke with a nod as he stood up and escorted Erzsebet into a seat. He let the faint smile play at the corners of his lips, surely she would remember him well....having first arrived in Stadt des Meeres moments before the word of his betrayal spread across The Reich like a wildfire.
Of course, any seasoned vetern of this war would know you always expect the unexpected and when you think you know what is going on something you least imagined is learned. It was the way of The Reich, good behind evil and evil behind good. Was Dante the villian or Der Fuhrer Dyszel? Who truly had more skeletons in their closet?
Returning to his own chair, Tresckow motioned around the table, "this is Dmitriy and these are his people. You had just missed Alex, which you may remember very well as being Dictator during absence briefly. He shall be speaking for The Reich at the summit. What brings you here m'lady? I have noticed several prestigious Reich members here and have heard the presence of others rumored to be here as well," Tresckow spoke politely, trying not to further offend or upset Erzsebet if she had viewed him as a Reich traitor.
"Good evening, General," Erzsebet replied. Her voice was cold, an impassable glacial wall between the outside world and the emotional maelstrom that she felt inside, the only peepholes through the barrier, were of course, her eyes, offering but a glimpse of the turmoil that raged within. However, despite her voice's icy texture, she was polite, even to Tresckow. A peace conference was no place for accusations of dishonor and challenges. At least not yet.
"What brings me here is, of course, Callisdrun's part in the matter," the vampiress continued. "As one of the warring nations, it was deemed necessary for a representative of my country to be party to any negotiations that take place." Business like, an odd persona for her. She didn't feel all that partial to niceties at the moment.
Turning to Dmitriy and the others, she extended her pale hand in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Dmitriy," the moroii said in the same cool voice. Her smile was small, just enough to show her fangs, and somehow brought not the slightest bit of warmth to her demeanor. "I am Admiral Sorvik of Callisdrun. You may call me Erzsebet."
Azzan, who had been watching from a doorway after making a last minute check on his latest medical interest and friend who was now sleeping soundly and without hinderance of a certain Nos, decidely kept silent and observed as he entered the room. The woman- Erzsebet- was obviously an equal to many to the potentates in Anceltierre, she was dangerous and the blatantly forced niceties were a mere formality to hide the barbs that were bound to come if you crossed her on neutral ground, to do so anywhere else would have meant death in all likely hood. Azzan smiled, he liked her- a puzzle was always fun until it was solved so Azzan took in all that he could while remaining discreet, waiting patiently to make his own introduction.
OOC: sorry for the wait :( /OOC
Dmitriy got out of his chair enough to stand up straight and extend his hand back. "Dmitriy Aleksandreyevich Popov," he said. "Govindian External Affairs Minister, and those two," he extended a hand to Alec and Rajay, who nodded, "are Govindian President Alec Trevelyan and Govindian Defence Minister Rajay Vishnu Dhaupal. We represent the Republic of Govindia and her Protectorate, Marionetsvia. "
Alec, Rajay, and the woman they were speaking to were all speechless at the sight of such an impressive woman. "My, my, " the Victorian lady muttered in awe. "Here really does come the fuzz."
Dmitriy sat down and sipped his wine. "So, Admiral Ersezbet Sorvik, in what role are you here on behalf of Callisdrun? Military leader?" He thought for a bit. "I never knew, vampyres actually existed. I'll be honest, it was something I never believed, until now. Call it one of many....culture shocks I have experienced today, m'lady. Your presence alone, stunning as it is, is one of them." He hoped that what he said she did not get offended by it. Such...vampyres he only heard from his grandparents' stories, a twisted way to deal with fear in the dark when he was little. He wondered what else this place held. Elves? Werewolves? Underpants gnomes?
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow watched the ambassadors from Marionetsvia of Govindia with mere amusement, there was much these ambassadors needed to learn in order to survive the harsh demands of The Reich.
Thoughts of The Reich pulled his reflections backward to days of massive explosions, screaming voices, a laughing man behind it all, his deep resonating voice echoing through his mind. Those thoughts arouse questions in him, who was governing this summit. It was not until that plaguing question struck his mind did he realize how disconnected they had become from The Elite Empire. Since the removal and dismantling of Dante's power, The Reich had little to no contact with major nations of the Empire....so little they no longer knew who was in power. Nye and Perry were the last known rulers, but both had gone missing upon the excertion at The Depths of Hell.
Memories of The Depths of Hell wrenched him back into time, that very moment that he stood in the dark outer chamber of to the gates. Hidden behind a large pillar, shouts from the gates ordered him to back down; they were prepared to give their lives to defend those gates. The man in the clean and neat business suit hunched behind a parallel pillar, looking his way, waiting for him to make the move into the gates. He was their key in; least did they know The Red Queen monitored The Depths of Hell and brought death to any unauthorized personel entering the vacanity.
But as he stepped forward, a bullet shot right past his face cautioned him off. His gaze met the man who fired the shot, a large man of solid well defined muscle behind a pistol. The man's aim was steady, unflinching, the scar that mangled his throat speaking for him, stand down. He dove forward though and with a retrieved gun shot Mathias in the shoulder, intended to only injure the man enough to take him down and not kill him. He had to make it real, he had to make it look like an honest attempt to kill his collegue. But Mathias did not flinch, firing another shot Tresckow narrowly avoided. He shot again, the bullet piercing Mathias's chest, knocking him back a few steps, he struggled to bring the gun up for another shot, but Tresckow pressed the trigger another time, the bullet that pierced Mathias again sending him to his knees and then onto his face, hunched over unable to get back up.
The memory flashed in only a few seconds, but enough time for a keen observer to notice the withdrawn gaze that overtook Tresckow. Snapping out of the gaze, he turned his attention back to his guests, mostly to Erszebet, although he took a quick glance to acknowledge Azzan's presence. "I have a suspicion that this summit is potentially dangerous. I must caution you all to be on your guard. There is something deeper here, as if this were planned, a fabricated event set in motion by key figures who know an outcome we are expected to play in. I have a feeling that I too am just a pawn in a bigger game," Tresckow spoke honestly, his polite respectful manner turning serious and reflective.
"What makes you say that?" asked Dmitriy, narrowing his eyebrows while glancing in the direction the General was looking, noting the presence of someone, not sure who he was. "Is there something you're not telling us?" he asked, in a slightly hushed tone.
Azzan chuckled softly when he heard the Govidian Ambassadors speak, they were good national administrators but hardly suited to the shark infested waters of international dimplomacy. If they were careful they'd be swallowed alive. He turned his attention to Tresckow as he spoke and replied, "If I am indeed a marionette, then the strings are loose but I do see what you mean- providence alone wouldn't have made all of this happen." He deliberately scratched his nose as if to prove he had no strings then turned to Erszebet, his eyes focusing sharply before his expression softened. He stood silently and bowed slightly as a sign of respect not for her rank but for the equality he saw in her- he did not deign to dare to offer his hand knowing from his observations that it would be perceived as an opening, "Good evening Admiral, my name is simply Azzan Medici, a Potentate of Anceltierre... but if I may be so bold, I must say I thank you for coming to see us before the summit began- I hope it may move things along when we truly begin." He then flashed a charming smile- somewhat arrogant- "Ofcourse I usually don't make speeches when I first meet someone so I apologize." And with that he took his seat.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow sat back in his chair, placing his fork onto his place, and taking a drink of his water. He sat in silence for a moment listening to the other's speak, taking in Dmitriy's question and letting the answers form in his mind.
"I have told you what I know. My suspicions are more a gut feeling and insight into past events. I have no more information on this summit than any of you, so I cannot enlighten you into some sort of mysterious knowledge," Tresckow spoke slowly, that professional respect reforming.
Amused at first by the Govindians' apparently new discovery of her race, Erzsebet chuckled ever so slightly. To many unused to the sound, like a vampire's voice, their laughs were unnerving, as the hissing background sound was even more evident. "I am the commander of First Cruiser squadron as a military position, but also my government's official representation in matters pertaining to the war and the Reich," was all she managed to get out before Tresckow's cryptic warning. Noting that he was looking much at her, she nodded, to confirm that she knew that the affairs of the Reich and the war had their dangers, even in a peace conference.
She heard the Dimitry's question, but didn't bother asking one of her own. If Tresckow knew something they didn't, chances are he would not tell them.
Still on her feet, she turned to the Anceltierrian, who was introducing himself, as Azzan Medici. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Medici, my apologies if that is not the correct way to address you, I don't know one does so for a Potentate," she said, smiling. As she looked him right in the eyes, perhaps Azzan could see the wildness that lurked there, beneath her chilly outward demeanor. Introductions made, she took her own seat at the table, resting her heavily tattooed left arm on the surface.
Azzan saw the sparks of fire in the eyes of the woman and smirked, he was going to like this summit- if for some of the wrong reasons. "Doctor-" he corrected gently, "but you may just call me Azzan." He drank in the vision in front of his eyes, taking note of every little movement before turning to his cold water- taking a long draught from the glass. He didn't even hint at being phased about who and what she was, infact he wasn't- he was more curious than anything as the questions began forming in his mind. "So what is it that brings you here besides invitation? Could it possibly for good will or is there something more?" His eyes flashed blue as he smiled gently but with a hint of predation.
"Likewise," the vampiress said, "You may call me Erzsebet." She paused after Azzan asked his question, turning over what he meant. "I am here to ensure that Callisdrun has a voice in whatever peace hopefully comes of this meeting, though naturally I wonder at whether there are other objectives of this conference that I know not of. Not that I can really do anything about that, of course." Despite her many years at sea in the company of sailors, she could be polite when she wanted to.
Azzan nodded, "A noble cause to seek a part in creating peace, we in Anceltierre have had it for a good long time and we have done well for ourselves." He drank the cold water again as his eyes continued to watch and examine the beautiful equal before him. "Ofcourse, that doesn't mean we are isolationist, infact I came here to launch Anceltierre into a lime light of sorts." Nonchalantly Azzan grabbed a vial from his bag, the silver liquid swirling silently, "These miracles-" he chuckled at the PR's name for them again then continued- "have been my work for years now. They're already being distributed in my homeland and will soon be available for the world- they will change everything." He smiled to himself as he remembered the years that had passed while he and his team had worked on the nanos, "They will defeat disease, attack it at it's source, strengthen the body against defects, biological and chemical warfare, injuries will not be so serious..." he paused as he looked for some sign of response before saying the last thing on his list, "Organ repair and reconstruction- even fabrication if need be." His hands gripped the glass with his next sentence, "Changing the world can occur in many ways, I just want to change it for the better." He sank into his chair, the impassioned voice leaving him as he felt the fabric support his back. "That's what I wish, and that's why I'm here."
Silent, Erzsebet listened, and contemplated. Her cause for being here was not as noble as Azzan might think, she was mainly there to ensure that Callisdrun was not overly trampled upon in whatever peace agreement was eventually made. Was that noble? Perhaps it was, devotion to country. The gods knew, she would rather have been aboard her ship than on land in an unfamiliar place. Certainly fighting disease was noble, but of course, with technology to revolutionize medicine, Anceltierre stood to benefit much from its innovation, in finance as well as health. Of course, the disease fighting elements of this technology had no benefit to her, as moroii didn't get sick. Drinking human blood was rough on a weak immune system, and all but those vampires with the strongest immune response had died off long ago. "It must be terrible to die of disease," she murmured.
Azzan laughed grimly, "You have no idea, a person can become a trainwreck... the fraility of man is his blessing and his curse." Noting a confused look he explained, "Why would we improved ourselves if we weren't frail? What drive would we have to create tools if there was no need? Would we have gotten to where we are today without being so frail?" He drank the last of his water and let out a satisfied sigh escape, "Ofcourse there are somethings neither of our people can avoid- I'm sure injuries are still a problem if serious enough... it's something we share and something that binds us to life- sorry for sounding like a philosopher but I believe what I say."
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow took interest in their conversation, finishing his glass of water in the process. He watched as his glass was refilled with a curteous bow from one of the guards, but his attention was still fixiated on Azzan and Erzsebet. He wondered if anyone knew of the dangerous secrets held beneath The Dictatorship in The Depths of Hell....if anyone even suspected the extent of hidden technology those dark mysterious corridors held.
"You know Azzan, a part of you speaks like a true Reich member. The Supreme Council itself revels in such philosophy. It is the glue that binds us together and holds us in place among The Original Reich. Without those ideals, we would fall to the new Reich and lose the foundation that has built our strongest aspects. If only mein Fuhrer was here to witness this discussion, you would make Der Fuhrer Dyszel so very proud as if you were her own child," Tresckow spoke with a new animated light, a topic of interest for him at last.
Azzan laughed with mirth, a compliment of that calibur was unexpected from a man so reserved. The snowy general indeed meant it, and that made Azzan revel in the warmth. He may never have met the reich leaders- scratch that legends, but he had felt the reverance and fear with which each name was said. He smiled, "I'll take to mean they have come to the same conclusion- the human condition is sometimes bleak, but it's with that bleakness that I and the Legends of the Reich light a torch to prove we are stronger than our circumstances and that we aren't afraid to face our future." he choked as he took a draught from the water- he was out of practice with speeches- having stayed out of the public eye since getting to Whitecastle. He thought on it as he recovered- many things had changed, even if the summit had yet to even occur- he hoped they were for the best.
Before speaking again, Erzsebet poured herself a glass of wine, sipping it gracefully. "I don't know that I agree about getting so far as a result of human frailty. My sub-species isn't nearly as vulnerable to disease, only to injury really." Taking another sip of her wine, she looked down momentarily, before looking back and grinning. "But I suppose it can be debated as to how far my kind have come," she added, with a dangerous look in her eye. It was true that some found the moroii, despite their obvious intelligence, to be... animalistic, as if holding onto the last threads of the time before civilization when they were wild predators, as if something in their nature had been left untouched by the many centuries of civilization and progress... like they were a lingering element of darkness in a what was more and more a world of light. "I'm no philosopher," Sorvik said, looking away. "So I really cannot say." Suddenly, her mood had become serious, and introspective.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow let the play of words continue for some time, listening mostly to the conversations rather than participating in them. With his meal finished and the feeling of social dining passed, he placed his hands on the table and looked over to his guest.
"Well gentlemen and ladies, I believe it is time that we retire for the evening. We have an unexpected day before us tomorrow and I think it is within our best interests to rest well tonight. It has been a pleasure dining with you. Shall we reconvene in the morning in or at the summit?" he asked, patiently awaiting their responses.
Azzan sniffed, "Sleep might be a foreign concept to me- techs are reporting in tonight on the progress of distribution of miracles among Anceltierrians, the preparedness to ship them to other countries, not to mention the programs for the future applications of Miracles." He yawns softly, covering his mouth not because he was tired but trying to get a few more free glances at the envoys of foreign nations, "I'll be sure to try and meet you before the summit begins" he turned to Erzsebet and inclined his head, "I bid you good night, if you want to speak with me about anything you know where to find me." He turned to Tresckow and the rest of the envoys, "the offer also applies to any who would take it." He stood and bid adieu heading down the silent but not uninhabited halls before coming to the door to his room and retiring for the night with the work set before him.
OOC: ..Jesus fucking Christ this thread is older than me. o_o
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Absolutely, dedication has a way of doing that. ;) Also goes to show I'm older then what my supposed date of creation was.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow excused himself after Azzan had left and traveled the length of the corridors in a silent repose, nodding politely to the guards he passed on the way to his room. He wanted to check on Alex before retiring to bed, but seeing his room heavily guarded, he opted it would be best to listen to his own advice and just get some sleep before the next day.
Sliding out of his uniform, he slipped into a pair of silky monogrammed pajamas brought to his room, finding it rude not to accept the hospitality. He finished his nightly routine before climbing into bed and resting his eyes. It was not long before he quickly fell to sleep, silently exhausted from the day's trying events.
Absolutely, dedication has a way of doing that...
OOC: I'm just trying to figure out how after all these years of trolling, I never once saw this thread. Either that or I have debilitating memory loss and we've had this conversation before.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
OOC: I'm just trying to figure out how after all these years of trolling, I never once saw this thread. Either that or I have debilitating memory loss and we've had this conversation before.
*lol* I honestly could not tell you how you have never seen this thread.....that is mighty impressive on many levels if you have never seen it. You may have posted here, but we generally ignore or harrass people who try to highjack or troll this thread and rarely remember who those people are. Sadly, sometimes over the years we even forget some of the RP'ers just Gorgoth....which is less understandable then forgetting spammers.
It's always nice to have that little break from the story line time to time though. ;)
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Night passed slowly, the cold breeze continuously passing through Alex's open window chilling the room throughout the night. He felt tired as his eyes opened, noticing stiff pains in his body immediately. He stared in front of him, and could only count the fine details of the floor before he struggled to pull himself up. He was cold, his flesh prickling up from the temperature change while his body stiffed from the awkward angle he collapsed at.
He felt rested although residual effects from the medication made his reactions sluggish. Once he got to his feet, he rubbed his neck realizing how stiff and cramped it had become from being cocked at such an unusual angle for several hours. He tried to find the time, but his unfocused eyes could not make out many details of the room.
The wind blew past him and he became aware of his naked body. Walking to the bed he noticed a neatly folded pair of monogrammed pajamas sitting on the edge, pajamas he had not noticed when he first entered the room. He slid into them, the silky fabric cold against his skin from the cold air of the room. Finding a pair of slip on shoes at the end of his bed, he slid into them finding himself to lazy to hunt down his own shoes and clothes.
Guided by only the light of the moon illuminating the room, he went to the door and was about to open it until he remembered all of the guards surrounding it. He wanted privacy at the moment and he knew there was no way those men would honor a man's wishes....those men were too guided by orders then respect for a man's privacy and desires. He reversed his direction and walked to the opened window. It was an ocean side room that let the sounds of the lapping waves enter in a rhythmic pace that pacified most people.
Finding an outpaced ledge not far from the window, he knew he could easily drop onto it and catch himself. It was far enough extended from the building to hold a person. He looked below it, finding large pillars. It wouldn't be too difficult to get down to the ground for him. Trained as a Reich official, little exertions like this were all too simple and seldom fatal. He walked back over to the bed and pulled free the bed sheet. Going to the window, he quickly hoisted himself over it and let himself drop with a moderate thud onto the ledge. He only swayed slightly but caught himself easily, the sheet he wrapped around his neck beginning to whip in the wind. Sliding his way over to the pillar, he removed the sheet and twisted it, looping an end tightly around his hand. Dropping, he felt his body free fall for a second until his natural instincts took over and whipped the sheet around the pole. He caught the free end and quickly tightened it around his other hand, leaning back to put tension on the sheet. He slid for a few feet before coming to a complete stop, the blood flow cut off to his fingers from the tight pressure on them. Easing his way down the remaining ten feet, he felt solid ground beneath his feet. Only then did he release the blanket and let the tingling biting blood flow back into his fingers.
Pumped now with the natural adrenaline reaction that accompanied such exertions, he briskly walked down the streets he marked in his mind gaining quick access to the ocean. He stood over the cliff edge of Whitecastle for several moments watching the silent wrapping of waves. He breathed in deeply, letting the cool air overtake him and calm the rush until he noticed someone on the beach below him. The figure stood with straight back staring over at the ocean. From the lack of illumination of the moon and the height, he was only able to see the figure and not who it was whether male or female. The figure appeared to be in all black, but details of the outfit were unable to be discerned from his height. He watched in silence at the figure who also watched in silence. Shuffling his weight to get a better glimpse at this ominous figure, he was startled when the figure whipped around and stared directly at him. For several moments, they stared at each other, not a word being passed between them, their faces unseen to each other.
The figure turned his back on him then, continuing to stare at the ocean. Gauged by curiosity, Alex wanted to meet this person. He only briefly got the feeling of potential violence from this person, but it faded when it had turned its back on him. Climbing down the rock side, he reached the sand beneath him and turned, the figure was no longer there. He walked over the place it was standing and saw distorted foot steps leading away. Following the foot steps, he found himself right back to the cliff side not too far from where he had descended.
"How," he whispered to himself. The figure evaded him right next to him.
Something struck him odd by the moment, but a faint glimpse of something at his feet brought his attention to it. It was a gun, apparently dropped by the figure. How did this person get a gun into Whitecastle? It must have been a native, but natives rarely possessed weapons having no need to. It could have been a guard, but he was sure that the guards were all posted under strict orders. It couldn't have been an ambassador, he knew they were checked upon entrance and the door frame to the building had a built in detector to determine concealed weapons.
Shrugging, he pocketed the gun, hoping to get a closer look at it in light. He briefly looked about the area trying to see if anything else was dropped, but finding the area clear, he rescaled the cliff side. Pain started to overtake his heart, so he sat for a half hour and watched the ocean, wondering who he had seen and that odd interaction they had where they just stared at each other.
He stood up, feeling some relief in his heart. Turning around, he ran into a figure. It startled him so much he stumbled back, feeling his feet give way to the edge of the cliff. Flailing his arms to try to regain his balance, he felt himself fall, but a strong hand caught him and pulled him to his feet.
"It is not your time to die," it spoke, but it turned before he could make facial contact. "Follow me."
Following a few paces behind the figure, he noticed it was obscured now by a black cloak that blocked its figure. He stared for a few moments, trying to figure out if it was a man or woman before he got bored and stared at the streets they were walking. Finding his way back to the ocean he sat where directed to by the figure who only spoke short simple directions. Together they watched the sun rise in silence, not a word spoken between them.
When an hour passed, the figure spoke again, "it is time you go back. Alex, I am truly sorry about Atticus and Destiny. They were amazing people."
"Who are you?" Alex asked, trying to move forward but was stopped by a black gloved hand.
"It is best you do not know," it spoke, it's voice also obscured to hide identity.
He tried to fight, but something in him told him to drop it. Accepting that perhaps this was best for him, he spoke quietly, "I understand. Thank you for the company this morning."
"Keep the gun. Take these too. You can walk through the front doors. Just put this on your left arm," the unidentifiable voice spoke.
He took the uniform of a guard and the object the figure said to put on his arm. It was almost like a sticker but with the consistently of flesh. He looked at it closely and found a barcode. Not understanding but trusting the figure, he placed the sticker object on his arm, and found it looked like part of his own arm, as if the barcode was marked into his very skin. Figuring that was the purpose of the barcode, he placed the uniform on over his pajamas, finding it fit him very well. He found a cap and placed it on his head.
"Hold your arm out slightly when entering the door. Do it naturally and covert. The door scans through clothing. It will read the code from your arm and recognize you as a General. That cap gives you seniority to the guards. They will not ask questions. You are supposed to arrive in an hour so you should make haste to get back quickly. Play your part well."
"Thank you," Alex said as he turned away, stealing only one more glance at the figure who continued to sit on the rock and watch the ocean.
He made his way back to the quarters and walked up to the front door. Swaying his arm, as if walking with a stride, he walked through the front door. Immediately, several guards nodded in recognition. "Welcome General," they greeted him, not questioning him at all, nor the gun he had stowed in the back of his pants.
Had it been this easy all along to get past them? he briefly thought as he made his way up to his room.
At his door, he held his posture erect, but his head down so that cap masked his face some. The two Whitecastle guards that had joined this post, nodded, "Good morning sir. We wondered when we would be expecting you. He is safe now, I assure you. The room has been closely guarded all night. You can go right in and speak to him. He is probably still sleeping but you may go in," the one guard spoke.
Alex nodded and opened the door, walking in and closing it behind him. That was too easy, he thought briefly as he walked into the bathroom, feeling the urge to go overwhelm him.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Tresckow awoke to the early morning sunlight, brightly shining through the open curtains he had forgotten to drawn shut. He had slept soundly, falling quickly to sleep the previous night. Rubbing his eyes, he walked into the bathroom and washed his face quickly. He yawned and stretched, feeling his age by the length of time it took him to get started in the morning.
He decided that he would grab some breakfast and a few cups of coffee to help waken him up. On the way out of his room, clad still his pajamas, he walked over to Alex's room to see if he was still awake.
The guards nodded as he knocked before he entered, knowing that Tresckow was an approved person to enter the room. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the bed expecting to have to wake Alex, but was surprised to find Alex was not in the room, only some man who was obviously of an upper position.
"Where's Alex?" Tresckow asked, concern and almost anger hinting in his voice.
"It's me," Alex spoke as he turned around to reveal his face, the only marker revealing his true identity. Even then, with the cap on and the uniform, it made him look like someone else to the untrained eye. It was astonishing how simple additions could change a man so much.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Tresckow asked, amusement in his voice as he figured there was probably an interesting story here. "I was just coming to get you for breakfast."
"Not now, just follow my lead, and when we leave we'll get breakfast. I just want some privacy," Alex spoke. Before Tresckow could respond though, Alex shouted out, "he's gone!"
The guards wasted no time rushing into the room, to find the bed in disarray, Alex's medications strewn across the bathroom floor, the two men standing at the window looking out it at perhaps a dead body...indicative that there may have been an unseen struggle in here the night before that everyone missed. Whoever attacked must have come in through the window by the looks of it.
They guards rushed to look out the window, but Alex who kept his back to them yelled, "Don't waste your time here. Get out there and find him!"
Without hestitation, knowing this was a man of high position, the Whitecastle guards rushed away in haste, bringing with the a slew of guards they collected on their way down. Watching the group of guards seperate outside, Alex turned and walked out of the room, Tresckow following.
"Now let's get something to eat," Alex spoke as he walked with Tresckow down the corridors to the Ambassadors lounge.
Azzan nodded as he saw Tresckow and an officer walk into the dining Lounge. "Glad to see you slept atleast aswell as I did." remarking on Tresckows fading expression of stress and confusion as he stabbed a sausage and ate to fill his empty stomach to fuel his exhausted reserves through the summit ahead. He noted the other officer quietly, taking note of the gait, the form under the uniform, and the bit of face he saw beneath the brim of the cap pulled low. "And just how is our mutual friend doing Tresckow? Hasn't gone missing into the night has he?" he smirked to show what he knew. As the disguised Alex picked up his own breakfast and sat Azzan remarked in near silence on the bulge of the weapon, "I see you have an insurance policy, don't misuse it or the premiums here are sure to... skyrocket." He indicated a passing gaurd and used the movement of eating another peice of his own breakfast to mask the movement.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex let a twisted look of confusion spread over his face. His encounter with that unknown person had left him questioning too much for him to process. When Azzan had mentioned the gun, Alex suddenly grew aware that he forgotten he possessed it. Growing a bit uncomfortable that he was considered armed, he took a bite of toast. Feeling dryness consume him, he quickly washing the toast down with some juice.
He adverted his eyes from Azzan and stared at his food, making a strong effort to hide his face.
Tresckow noticed the unease in Alex, and turned his attention to Azzan. "Alex is missing. His room was found abandoned and in disarray this morning. No sign of him or an intruder has been reported yet. This is the General in charge of security at the summit. The General insists we try to relax. The best guards are on Alex's case and he wants us to relax before the summit. No one believes he would have gotten far. Whitecastle citizens are fond of Alex, so they would protect him should an intruder take him into the city," Tresckow responded officially, knowing Azzan would understand the importance of secrecy in this matter. Right now, it was important to just believe Alex was not available.
A moment of silence passed, Alex's tensed shoulders easing up slightly as he reclined into the chair, feeling the gun press against his back, making him tense once again. "I need to show you something I found last night," Alex spoke, "I think it pertains to this man Alex. Alex has no intent on killing anyone or himself does he?"
Trying to piece the codes together, Tresckow realized Alex was asking if they knew anyone who might be suicidial. "No, Alex has never expressed a desire to harm himself," Tresckow answered, a look of concern and fear entering his eyes. Alex was revealing something significant that had occured last night. They needed privacy and quickly to talk about what happened. Someone's life was in danger.
Azzan was no layman to the strange way of speaking and silently chewed the meat, letting the juices trail down his throat before swallowing. "He may not have been suicidal but the boy is too fatalistic-" Azzan used a somewhat berating tone but people would easily mistake it as a simple passionate critique from one of the few people who had managed to fight the conditions man was put into, he was famous for it afterall, "- so if he was taken there wouldn't be that much sign of a struggle after his opponent took him." Azzan finished his breakfast with a red apple, taking a large bite as the crisp flesh tore between his teeth.
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Unconsciously, Alex brought his hand to the accessible port in his chest, covering it as if it was seen visibly through his clothing. When he realized that he was covering it, he removed his hand and brought it to his plate to take another bite of his breakfast. He frowned at the impression he was giving people, but accepted it in silent reserve. Taking another bite of his breakfast, he washed it down with some more juice.
"I think Alex may be in grave danger to himself or someone close to him," Alex spoke, working off the information that was given to him. "Whitecastle's best is on the case though. Hopefully it will be solved quickly."
Tresckow nodded, his disheveled hair falling flapping around his head. He rubbed his face tiredly as he finished his first cup of coffee, still feeling tired. "Thank you General. We appreciate your efforts. I am sure you will do your best," he spoke loud enough for anyone easedropping to gain the impression that this really was the General.
Speaking more quietly, "So General, who do you think is in danger? Surely you do not mean myself?" Tresckow asked.
Alex shrugged and took another drink of his juice. "I believe you know him better then myself. Is there anyone you know who may be in danger?"
Tresckow could not find an answer. "I must think upon this."
Alex accepted that answer, but unease still plagued him. Something about the previous night disturbed him, foreboding of something much larger.
"What is going on here?" Alex asked, letting the unspoken question in all of their minds come out.
Outside the Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
The Senior GSS Guard assigned to Alex's detail, in the midst of the frantic searching for something down below Alex's window, frustrated.
"Where the hell is he?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't we hear anything?"
"I always knew that boy was a cheeky fellow," said one of the other guards as they were searching with Whitecastle's units. "Looked a bit queer as well, eh?"
"Fuck man, you're not helping," responded the Senior Guard back. "Yes that boy was a cheeky queer, oh well. All boys are cheeky queer right after they hit puberty. It's when they start to notice they have a wanker and who to shag with."
He turned to the Whitecastle guards. "Do you have any fucking idea where the fuck this fucking bugger is?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
One of the Whitecastle guards grimaced at the profanities issued his way. He spoke little, his mouth a tight line as he clenched his jaw to inhibit a bad response. Trained to not respond when angry, he continued his searching, hoping his silence would answer for him.
Nearby a child stood, staring in disbelief. Word struck quickly when guards entered the streets that the ambassador Alex was reported missing. Instantly children flocked to streets, knowing the best hiding places this city had to offer. However, this child, the young boy who Alex had returned his ball to stared wide eyed with mouth agape at the guards searching.
"What does queer mean?" he asked, overhearing that they had called Alex queer, "and what's a wanker and a shag?" his innocent voice sounded more scared then curious....indicating that he was under the impression Alex's life was in danger. It was evident the little boy was trying to suppress tears that stung in the corner of a his eyes as a young boy often does when he scrapes his knee in the presence of his friends.
Dining Hall, Diplomats' Quarters Hotel, Whitecastle
Alec Trevelyan walked down with his primary detail, along with Dmitriy to the breakfast area. Rajay and his new Victorian friend had sparked a connection, and he rather would let them...spend it alone together than bother them for a bit. He knew when to wake up.
Last night's conversation was very interesting. Especially with Azzan Medici's description of his so-called "Miracle." It could have similar applications to the bacta that was used at home. Whether or not he was genuine with sharing it to others, or seeking a profit, it was not fully clear.
He continued to worry about Tresckow and Alex. They have obviously been through a great deal, and hence were the ones to lead their nation of The Reich into accepting the terms of surrender, and whatever else may face their lives. It was a burden that he remembered years ago, when he forced a similar circumstance in the aftermath of the Unification War.
Just then he noticed Tresckow, Azzan, and some uniformed officer having breakfast. "Look Dmitriy," he pointed out them to his External Affairs Minister. "They're there. Let's go join up with them."
Alec and Dmitriy walked up next to them, taking seats besides the uniformed officer. "Good morning mates," he said as he took in his meal and began eating. "How are you all doing? I hope you slept well?"
Dmitriy took up a seat nearest both where he could see Azzan and the officer. "Good morning Mr. Medici," he said. "I'm glad to see you again." He then recognised what looked like to be Alex in the uniform, though it took him a while to notice, with the cap on. "Good morning, General," he said, grinning as he recognised the stars indicating he was a fairly high-ranking general. "I trust...Alex...is well I hope? Why did he not come down for breakfast? I wonder....." he trailed off, sipping some orange juice as he ate his eggs with bacon.
Alec immediately took note of the subtlety from Dmitriy's comments. "Good morning, herr General," he spoke. "How are your forces doing today? I hope they are well?"
Der Fuhrer Dyszel
Alex took another bite of his breakfast while he watched from the periphery as Dmitriy and Alec sat down with their breakfasts.
"Alex has been reported missing this morning. My men are working diligently following any clues and returning him unharmed to the vicinity. Unfortunately, the is not much to work from....only an apparent struggle in his room. If you have any information that would be greatly appreciated," Alex spoke, bringing his glass to his lips.
Tresckow merely nodded, "Gentlemen, this is the General who is assigned to summit security. He has joined us this morning to discuss events that had transpired this morning and goals of security at the summit today. Have any ideas?"