Setting
New York City, once called the City of Dreams, almost always called the City that Never Sleeps, and periodically called the best and worst place on Earth.
Right now, it's a lot of the latter.
As the population of the world has grown, so to has the population of New York, a city that was once filled with about 9 million people, but that now hosts around 17 million people. Whole new areas of land have had to be eaten up just to maintain this population, and slums and ghettos are overtaking great swathes of the city.
New York is now rife with crimes, everything from murder and theft to black market cybernetics and gene manipulation. And then there's the other, darker market that has started to crop up; the murdering of "magical" persons.
A lot of it comes down to bigotry and resentment for these people, but some of it is far worse, involving the consumption of body parts of magical people, or trying to attach them to new hosts as "transplants". In some cases, there's even talk of making them into "potions" or other such things. The main idea behind this (or myth more accurately) is that this will make the "consumer" magical themselves. Whether or not this is actually true is unknown, but there is no evidence so far to suggest it is.
But this isn't just an NYC problem, this is a global problem to be certain. NYC just happens to have a big enough population and enough traffic to make it a very big problem in NYC. It's at the point where even gene-manipulated people are treated better by the public, at least their "deformities" can be explained by science.
At any rate, you're in NYC now. Enjoy your stay, and watch your back... Lest you find a knife in it.
Right now, it's a lot of the latter.
As the population of the world has grown, so to has the population of New York, a city that was once filled with about 9 million people, but that now hosts around 17 million people. Whole new areas of land have had to be eaten up just to maintain this population, and slums and ghettos are overtaking great swathes of the city.
New York is now rife with crimes, everything from murder and theft to black market cybernetics and gene manipulation. And then there's the other, darker market that has started to crop up; the murdering of "magical" persons.
A lot of it comes down to bigotry and resentment for these people, but some of it is far worse, involving the consumption of body parts of magical people, or trying to attach them to new hosts as "transplants". In some cases, there's even talk of making them into "potions" or other such things. The main idea behind this (or myth more accurately) is that this will make the "consumer" magical themselves. Whether or not this is actually true is unknown, but there is no evidence so far to suggest it is.
But this isn't just an NYC problem, this is a global problem to be certain. NYC just happens to have a big enough population and enough traffic to make it a very big problem in NYC. It's at the point where even gene-manipulated people are treated better by the public, at least their "deformities" can be explained by science.
At any rate, you're in NYC now. Enjoy your stay, and watch your back... Lest you find a knife in it.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
New York City is a part of 
Commedia dell'arte.
1 Characters Here
Theresa Wyn [5] "Go all in, or all out. Don't waste my time with half efforts."
Start Character Here »
"Get away from me!" a man's voice cried out, in a dimly lit New York back-alley. It was barely audible over the heavy downpour of rain as a lone vagrant ran from an unseen pursuer. The man was was absolutely terrified, half drunk, and was nearly stumbling over his own feet as he scrambled out towards the road. It was his hope that he could escape into public eyes. But he couldn't keep it up, he had to stop to catch his breath, gasping and coughing, looking back at the alley behind him. He laughed hoarsely to himself, a half-crazed kind of laugh. "Just my nerves playing tricks on my brain..." he muttered, leaning against the wall with a sigh. Reaching into his ragged coat he pulled out a bottle, popping the lid and tipping it back to his lips.
"Tsk, that's bad for your liver, you know?" a soft female voice said, somewhat muffled as something snagged the bottle from his hand. That something was a tentacle of some sort, coming from an average height humanoid female in a black full-body suit. The man froze in response, refusing to even look at the figure, the look on his face frozen in horror. With a sudden twist of his body, he threw out a hand and produced a burst of steam and swung around, arms flailing, to run around the other way, but only hit another, taller figure, and fell onto his back causing a splash of water, and is knocked cold. The female immediately kneels down and leans over the man checking his pulse. "Geez, Xander, we need to be careful!"
"I am sorry, Bashemath, it was not my intention. He was behaving erratically," the tall figure responded. His voice strange, masculine but the tone was somewhat monotone, soft, and somewhat... distorted, not as deep as would be fitting to his body. The figure, Xander, squated down and propped himself on his knuckles. The figure, while... sort of human-like, was otherwise very tall, gangling body and arms, also fully suited but in a considerably different style, serving a different purpose. Xander, scanned over the body of the man. "The damage is superficial, he will survive. Besides, this simplifies acquisition."
The female, Bashemath huffed slapping her hands on her lap. "It's the principle of the thing! But... I suppose you are right... just, we can't go around hurting people, alright?"
Xander hoisted the man over his shoulder and stood up. Looking down at Bashemath, he simply nodded and held out one of his long arms, prompting her to climb up onto his arm and was hoisted onto his shoulder as well.
"Hey, Xander... we are doing right, right?" Bashemath asked.
"We are not violating our protocol," Xander answered.
"Not quite what I mean," Bashemath responded, laying her head against his shoulder.
"Left to own devices, this one would have died of any number of diseases, or alcohol poisoning, or murdered, or subject to a hit-and-run, or, likely a combination of all scenarios," Xander answered, more in depth.
"Again, not what I meant, but... all the same, thank you Xander," she responded with a short sigh.
"Should I include the potential for lethal animal attacks as well?" Xander asked.
Bashemath laughed. "What? No! I get it, okay, point made," she said, patting Xander on the head. "Lets just deliver the guy before he gets sick from all this rain, okay?"
"Understood," he responded. Undaunted by the weight of the two passengers, he turned and took off towards and unknown destination to deliver their captive, to a benefactor shrouded in mystery from the public eye.
"Tsk, that's bad for your liver, you know?" a soft female voice said, somewhat muffled as something snagged the bottle from his hand. That something was a tentacle of some sort, coming from an average height humanoid female in a black full-body suit. The man froze in response, refusing to even look at the figure, the look on his face frozen in horror. With a sudden twist of his body, he threw out a hand and produced a burst of steam and swung around, arms flailing, to run around the other way, but only hit another, taller figure, and fell onto his back causing a splash of water, and is knocked cold. The female immediately kneels down and leans over the man checking his pulse. "Geez, Xander, we need to be careful!"
"I am sorry, Bashemath, it was not my intention. He was behaving erratically," the tall figure responded. His voice strange, masculine but the tone was somewhat monotone, soft, and somewhat... distorted, not as deep as would be fitting to his body. The figure, Xander, squated down and propped himself on his knuckles. The figure, while... sort of human-like, was otherwise very tall, gangling body and arms, also fully suited but in a considerably different style, serving a different purpose. Xander, scanned over the body of the man. "The damage is superficial, he will survive. Besides, this simplifies acquisition."
The female, Bashemath huffed slapping her hands on her lap. "It's the principle of the thing! But... I suppose you are right... just, we can't go around hurting people, alright?"
Xander hoisted the man over his shoulder and stood up. Looking down at Bashemath, he simply nodded and held out one of his long arms, prompting her to climb up onto his arm and was hoisted onto his shoulder as well.
"Hey, Xander... we are doing right, right?" Bashemath asked.
"We are not violating our protocol," Xander answered.
"Not quite what I mean," Bashemath responded, laying her head against his shoulder.
"Left to own devices, this one would have died of any number of diseases, or alcohol poisoning, or murdered, or subject to a hit-and-run, or, likely a combination of all scenarios," Xander answered, more in depth.
"Again, not what I meant, but... all the same, thank you Xander," she responded with a short sigh.
"Should I include the potential for lethal animal attacks as well?" Xander asked.
Bashemath laughed. "What? No! I get it, okay, point made," she said, patting Xander on the head. "Lets just deliver the guy before he gets sick from all this rain, okay?"
"Understood," he responded. Undaunted by the weight of the two passengers, he turned and took off towards and unknown destination to deliver their captive, to a benefactor shrouded in mystery from the public eye.
As the plane started to make its descent on New York, Arthur couldn't help but admire the skyline a bit. The city was big now, incredibly so. Old buildings like the Empire State Building were dwarfed next to some of the new ones that had been built, and many other areas had to be ripped up to fit in more places to live for its growing population. The ghettos and slums were nothing to admire either, but this was home for now. Whether Arthur liked it or not.
Peter sat reading the news paper, mostly quiet and keeping to himself. "Looks like our Commander in Chief is busy once again." He said mostly neutrally. What he was referring to specifically was the threats by the President to shutdown the government. Bickering over funding, probably a lot of it a result from the runaway poverty.
Arthur nodded, partly to Peter and himself. "They say jump, we ask how high."
There was a smirk from Peter, thinking over some of the 'personal' business they had to take care of in the next few days. "Yeah, well that's why we have our independent operations isn't it Arthur?" His partner remained silent. Peter sighed slightly and went back to reading his paper.
__________________________________________________________________________________
After the plane had touched down, Arthur and Peter made their separate ways, agreeing it would probably be best to meet the next day and grab some coffee. Of course, coffee meant business, and business meant (usually) either dealing to people or dealing with people. Neither of which he relished.
Arthur had picked up his car from the airport and had started to make his way home. It was getting late, and he knew he should sleep. But he also knew he couldn't right now. He missed his turn off (intentionally) and continued to another part of the downtown area. After probably a 6 or 7 minute drive further (the traffic was easing up by this time of night), Arthur pulled up in front of a diner. It was old, and a bit worse for wear looking, but it was his favorite spot, and a place where he felt comfortable. He parked the car, got out, and went inside.
Without waiting for any indication from a server, Arthur took a seat at an empty table near the window, sitting in the seat facing away from the door. It was pretty much empty in there at this time, but most places stayed open late these days, partly for security and partly because there can be (on most nights) enough business to make it worth it. Arthur had pulled out his phone and started to browse, pretty much anything and everything. News, social apps, even some profiles for 'interested persons'. He quickly placed his phone down as he caught movement at the side of his eye however. Turning and looking up, Arthur smiled at the waitress who'd just arrived at his table.
"Hey Tracy, good to see you again.
The girl flashed him a big, friendly grin. "Good to see you again too gramps, how's the funeral business these days?"
He smirked. "Is this how you flirt with all your customers?"
Tracy gave him an exaggerated look of annoyance. "Only to the old men that go days without coming in to see me."
"Well I'm sorry Tracy, works been busy, so I'll just have to make it up to you now. Also, I'm only 43 Tracy, not an old man. And what are you even, 27?"
This time, she exaggerated the look of taking immense offense. "I'll have you know I'm only 25 sir! How very rude of you to insinuate I'm old!"
There was a slight chuckle from Arthur. "Alright, sorry. Guess I'd better be coming in more often then to make that up to you too."
"You better! Girl starts to feel like she just isn't important when you ignore her like that!"
"Alright alright, I'll be in again more, I promise." He said with a pleasant sigh.
"Fine, it's a date then." She said playfully.
"Oh so that's what you're looking for is it?" Arthur asked with his own exaggerated 'machismo'.
Tracy grinned and bent towards him. "Only if you keep coming in and keep tipping." She said with a wink.
Arthur nodded, the smile not yet faded from his face. "Well then, how about you start me off with a coffee. Hold the sass though."
"Rhymes with something I'm sure you'd much rather have." She responded with a small laugh as she went back to the kitchen.
The smile stuck with Arthur for a few more moments. Tracy was a sweet girl, though seriously wasting her time. He knew she had some brains, probably as good as her looks. Working in a diner in New York was never going to get her anywhere, so he seriously hoped she changed that.
Something else caught Arthur's attention, outside of the coffee shop. It was Peter, standing there beside his own car, giving a wave, and making his way to the door. What was he doing here so late? They had agreed on business tomorrow, not tonight.
And then everything stood still for a moment.
Both Arthur and Peter's eyes widened. It took a moment for it to register with both of them, but they had just heard a massive explosion. Peter looked around frantically, trying to get a view of what was going on. He gave up after a moment though, the buildings obscuring his vision too much, so he ran inside instead.
"Arthur, did you just hear that?" After Arthur gave a slight and sullen nod, Peter looked around the room somewhat frantically again. "That was either really close, or really bit. What was that?"
Tracy entered the room again, her eyes stretched in shock. "W-what was that?" She asked, the sound of building anxiety clinging to her voice.
Arthur looked around in complete confusion before checking his phone again and going to the news. Peter had turned on a TV in the diner and began flipping through channels. Nothing was coming up on either for about 5, maybe 10 minutes. Then finally something appeared.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"Just moments ago, a massive explosion erupted out of a New York City food supply building, just a few blocks away from where we are reporting. We don't know what has happened yet, but we know this specific building is one of the very crucial ones New York has set up to help deal with food shortages and poverty. The Fire Department, Police, and Medical Services are on their way as we speak, but still no news as to what has happe- Wait... We have breaking news, which may be related to this incident. At almost the same time as the explosion here in New York City, there was a similar explosion in a food production building in Pacifica City, in the South China Sea. We do not know yet what has happened, but some sources are indicating they may be connected. We-"
____________________________________________________________________________________________
The connection went fuzzy for a moment as something else appeared on screen. It was a man, wearing a 'comedy' mask, standing in front of some kind of flag with Arabic writing on it. He spoke in Arabic, but there were subtitles in English below it.
"People of the world, for too long have you all lived in degeneracy and vice. You have perverted yourselves and the ground you walk upon. Today, our glorious revolutionary group takes action against this disgrace. We have attacked just two very important food buildings in the cities of New York and Pacifica today. This is a small taste of what is to come, but a reminder of the power we wield. Today, we condemn you to hunger. In a month, perhaps starvation. And later, total breakdown of your disgusting societies. There shall be a rise of the true, pure Islamic State, and all others shall be destroyed! Victory shall be ours!"
The screen went black for a few moments before returning to the news, and the startled news anchor.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Arthur looked over at Peter, who stood staring at the screen, jaw wide open in shock. "THEY AREN'T TERRORISTS!" Arthur shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
Peter looked over to Arthur, still in shock at this point. "I- Look, they pretty much just said they are Arthur!"
Anger and annoyance only continued to build in Arthur. "No, THAT was not 'Islamic Terrorism', that was misdirection! These... PSYCHOS are trying to... to..."
"To do what Arthur? This is the BIGGEST thing we've seen as evidence of them, but... I mean this could be ANY terrorist group putting on a creepy mask to scare people! An internet joke stolen by-"
Arthur put a hand up to cut Peter off. "Look Peter, with all the weird stuff that's been happening, you and I BOTH know something else is going on here. I don't know if they did this, or why they would, but I know that IF this group is real, THIS is part of their game." Arthur looked back at the TV, the vitriol only growing inside of him, knowing just how far these people have gone, and how far they'll go. "This wasn't political. It wasn't religious. This... This was chaos. It's their tool. Their plan. Probably even their goal. And they are far from finished..."
Peter sat reading the news paper, mostly quiet and keeping to himself. "Looks like our Commander in Chief is busy once again." He said mostly neutrally. What he was referring to specifically was the threats by the President to shutdown the government. Bickering over funding, probably a lot of it a result from the runaway poverty.
Arthur nodded, partly to Peter and himself. "They say jump, we ask how high."
There was a smirk from Peter, thinking over some of the 'personal' business they had to take care of in the next few days. "Yeah, well that's why we have our independent operations isn't it Arthur?" His partner remained silent. Peter sighed slightly and went back to reading his paper.
__________________________________________________________________________________
After the plane had touched down, Arthur and Peter made their separate ways, agreeing it would probably be best to meet the next day and grab some coffee. Of course, coffee meant business, and business meant (usually) either dealing to people or dealing with people. Neither of which he relished.
Arthur had picked up his car from the airport and had started to make his way home. It was getting late, and he knew he should sleep. But he also knew he couldn't right now. He missed his turn off (intentionally) and continued to another part of the downtown area. After probably a 6 or 7 minute drive further (the traffic was easing up by this time of night), Arthur pulled up in front of a diner. It was old, and a bit worse for wear looking, but it was his favorite spot, and a place where he felt comfortable. He parked the car, got out, and went inside.
Without waiting for any indication from a server, Arthur took a seat at an empty table near the window, sitting in the seat facing away from the door. It was pretty much empty in there at this time, but most places stayed open late these days, partly for security and partly because there can be (on most nights) enough business to make it worth it. Arthur had pulled out his phone and started to browse, pretty much anything and everything. News, social apps, even some profiles for 'interested persons'. He quickly placed his phone down as he caught movement at the side of his eye however. Turning and looking up, Arthur smiled at the waitress who'd just arrived at his table.
"Hey Tracy, good to see you again.
The girl flashed him a big, friendly grin. "Good to see you again too gramps, how's the funeral business these days?"
He smirked. "Is this how you flirt with all your customers?"
Tracy gave him an exaggerated look of annoyance. "Only to the old men that go days without coming in to see me."
"Well I'm sorry Tracy, works been busy, so I'll just have to make it up to you now. Also, I'm only 43 Tracy, not an old man. And what are you even, 27?"
This time, she exaggerated the look of taking immense offense. "I'll have you know I'm only 25 sir! How very rude of you to insinuate I'm old!"
There was a slight chuckle from Arthur. "Alright, sorry. Guess I'd better be coming in more often then to make that up to you too."
"You better! Girl starts to feel like she just isn't important when you ignore her like that!"
"Alright alright, I'll be in again more, I promise." He said with a pleasant sigh.
"Fine, it's a date then." She said playfully.
"Oh so that's what you're looking for is it?" Arthur asked with his own exaggerated 'machismo'.
Tracy grinned and bent towards him. "Only if you keep coming in and keep tipping." She said with a wink.
Arthur nodded, the smile not yet faded from his face. "Well then, how about you start me off with a coffee. Hold the sass though."
"Rhymes with something I'm sure you'd much rather have." She responded with a small laugh as she went back to the kitchen.
The smile stuck with Arthur for a few more moments. Tracy was a sweet girl, though seriously wasting her time. He knew she had some brains, probably as good as her looks. Working in a diner in New York was never going to get her anywhere, so he seriously hoped she changed that.
Something else caught Arthur's attention, outside of the coffee shop. It was Peter, standing there beside his own car, giving a wave, and making his way to the door. What was he doing here so late? They had agreed on business tomorrow, not tonight.
And then everything stood still for a moment.
Both Arthur and Peter's eyes widened. It took a moment for it to register with both of them, but they had just heard a massive explosion. Peter looked around frantically, trying to get a view of what was going on. He gave up after a moment though, the buildings obscuring his vision too much, so he ran inside instead.
"Arthur, did you just hear that?" After Arthur gave a slight and sullen nod, Peter looked around the room somewhat frantically again. "That was either really close, or really bit. What was that?"
Tracy entered the room again, her eyes stretched in shock. "W-what was that?" She asked, the sound of building anxiety clinging to her voice.
Arthur looked around in complete confusion before checking his phone again and going to the news. Peter had turned on a TV in the diner and began flipping through channels. Nothing was coming up on either for about 5, maybe 10 minutes. Then finally something appeared.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"Just moments ago, a massive explosion erupted out of a New York City food supply building, just a few blocks away from where we are reporting. We don't know what has happened yet, but we know this specific building is one of the very crucial ones New York has set up to help deal with food shortages and poverty. The Fire Department, Police, and Medical Services are on their way as we speak, but still no news as to what has happe- Wait... We have breaking news, which may be related to this incident. At almost the same time as the explosion here in New York City, there was a similar explosion in a food production building in Pacifica City, in the South China Sea. We do not know yet what has happened, but some sources are indicating they may be connected. We-"
____________________________________________________________________________________________
The connection went fuzzy for a moment as something else appeared on screen. It was a man, wearing a 'comedy' mask, standing in front of some kind of flag with Arabic writing on it. He spoke in Arabic, but there were subtitles in English below it.
"People of the world, for too long have you all lived in degeneracy and vice. You have perverted yourselves and the ground you walk upon. Today, our glorious revolutionary group takes action against this disgrace. We have attacked just two very important food buildings in the cities of New York and Pacifica today. This is a small taste of what is to come, but a reminder of the power we wield. Today, we condemn you to hunger. In a month, perhaps starvation. And later, total breakdown of your disgusting societies. There shall be a rise of the true, pure Islamic State, and all others shall be destroyed! Victory shall be ours!"
The screen went black for a few moments before returning to the news, and the startled news anchor.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Arthur looked over at Peter, who stood staring at the screen, jaw wide open in shock. "THEY AREN'T TERRORISTS!" Arthur shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
Peter looked over to Arthur, still in shock at this point. "I- Look, they pretty much just said they are Arthur!"
Anger and annoyance only continued to build in Arthur. "No, THAT was not 'Islamic Terrorism', that was misdirection! These... PSYCHOS are trying to... to..."
"To do what Arthur? This is the BIGGEST thing we've seen as evidence of them, but... I mean this could be ANY terrorist group putting on a creepy mask to scare people! An internet joke stolen by-"
Arthur put a hand up to cut Peter off. "Look Peter, with all the weird stuff that's been happening, you and I BOTH know something else is going on here. I don't know if they did this, or why they would, but I know that IF this group is real, THIS is part of their game." Arthur looked back at the TV, the vitriol only growing inside of him, knowing just how far these people have gone, and how far they'll go. "This wasn't political. It wasn't religious. This... This was chaos. It's their tool. Their plan. Probably even their goal. And they are far from finished..."
It had been a few weeks since that day, when they were both saved and enslaved, that Clarke and Clara woke up onboard a setting that was becoming more and more familiar to them each passing day. Yes, they were at the mercy and service of the one who rescued them, a boy named Zilas Black, or at least that is what he called himself.
However, as Clarke was waking up early, he and his sister resting in a nice large bed wearing two oversized shirts to sleep in, it wasn't really that bad. The first day had been a bit shocking, but it helped reveal Zilas' true nature to him. Incidentally, the reason that Clarke and Clara slept in the same bed was not a lack of beds, but rather having grown up on the streets, they always slept next to each other for protection. Even though they were safe here, it was not a habit they could kick easily.
Clarke still replayed the events of when they first arrived in his head sometimes, though...
The moment Zilas brought them there, he dragged that man off telekinetically and threw him into a holding cell. It appeared that this flying ship, the Moonray, was both his base and his home, as well as his mode of transportation, and was able to cloak and hide itself. But it was when he got back did the confusion happen. The first thing Zilas did was make them get out of their clothes, all of them. At first, Clarke thought maybe he was interested in something else. He had saved their lives sure, but it gave Clarke pause for a moment.
But then, Zilas assured him it was not what he was thinking, and Clarke remembered how people who did think like that usually looked and felt. Zilas didn't give that feeling at all. Instead, after they were naked, he made them use a decontamination shower twice, together with him to make sure everything got washed. Clarke still had some concern, especially when Zilas took them to another large bath afterwards to help them clean off. But the third thing he did to him confirmed the new theory Clarke had: Zilas was looking out for them.
That was because he gave them a bunch of immune system boosters and vitamins to take. Since Clarke and Clara had been orphans, he had been concerned that they might be suffering or carrying something really bad, and also figured, correctly, they had not had a proper bath in years.
As for the clothes, he had them go through their own decontamination and then wash cycle, on the off chance they could be saved, but figured he should just get new ones for them anyways. Since it seemed like the ship was almost always in the air, the only way in or out was through Zilas' teleportation.
And then, he taught advanced knowledge and training, and various other things such as things vital to knowing how to serve him. He could be insane, utterly mad at times, and merciless. Clarke and Clara saw what he could do, and how powerful and dangerous he could be. The training program they did could also sometimes be strict and merciless, but they had already agreed and he did save his life.
Clarke decided to let Clara sleep a bit more, and got dressed into some sweats to work out in as he started to do a morning jog around the ship. Normally, he tried to wake up earlier then Zilas as part of being a servant, but during his run he heard activity inside the tech room, at least that was what Zilas called it. It was full of computers, news monitoring devices, but it also had some tables and couches and even its own fridge even though the kitchen was close by. Maybe it was meant for a team to use to plan covert ops or something?
As he checked inside, he found Zilas looking at the news...he didn't look upset, but he didn't look happy either. As an orphan on the street dedicated to protecting himself and his sister, Clarke could pick up on these things...
Zilas stared at the news monitor in annoyance until he finally noticed Clarke was there. It looked like he was still wearing his running clothes, so he was probably still in the middle of his morning run. Clarke and his sister, both were already showing so much potential. It made Zilas a bit happier, remembering that he saved them.
"Master Zilas? What is the matter?"
"Well, it looks like the group I had been keeping a watch out for, those clowns...what were their name?"
"Which one? Their official name, Commedia Dellarte, or the one you gave them, Gibberish Clowns?"
"Both is fine..." Zilas said. In truth, he just wanted to see if Clarke remembered. "Anyways, it looks like one of the reasons they were in contant with Arms Dealers was for explosives...look at the news".
Zilas turned on the news, to where Clarke could see the messages laid out before them. The subtitles helped for sure, but...Clarke noticed something, probably what Zilas was testing him on.
"It could just be the way he speaks, but...the subtitles are to distract from that likely possibility right?"
"A plus Clarke, as always. YOu know, for an Orphan you know quite a bit".
"We lived in an old library for some time. It was dangerous outside, so we did nothing but read".
"Ah. Anyways, yes yes. Most likely, the person speaking is not actually some radical islamist. Because there are subtitles, most people focus on that, but the accent...while yes, it COULD be how they speak, or a number of other things, the most likely answer is that they are not Arabic but reading phonetic translations".
"So, the point is chaos..."
For a moment, Clarke considering commenting on why Zilas disliked this group who seemed similar to himself, but held his tongue and didn't say something so stupid. For one thing, Zilas always made sure his actions would not hurt children. From what Clarke and Clara heard so far, they had a rough understanding of what Zilas went through. Hell, when they bathed together they saw the scars.
"Yes, but chaos in the worst possible way. There are differences between various types of chaos, and this...this is clearly a bad type. I am heading into the city, see what the first responders and such find out, and do some investigating myself".
"Do you want me to prepare anything?"
"Yes, I want you to mop and scrub the north hallways naked for thinking for a moment I was similar to them".
"Wait, what..."
"I can read people too Clarke. Otherwise, I will be fine. Oh, and you have to do all of Clara's chores too today for not immediately admitting and accepting it. She gets the day off".
"Yes sir..."
And so, with those words, Zilas set off...although to be fair, given there was only them on the ship, and no one else would find them, the only real part of that punishment was giving Clarke the extra work.
That said, Zilas also did it to distract himself. After all, those facilities they blew up helped children, a lot of them. Therefore, Zilas was actually really pissed off right now...he might just go and kill someone to blow off steam.
However, as Clarke was waking up early, he and his sister resting in a nice large bed wearing two oversized shirts to sleep in, it wasn't really that bad. The first day had been a bit shocking, but it helped reveal Zilas' true nature to him. Incidentally, the reason that Clarke and Clara slept in the same bed was not a lack of beds, but rather having grown up on the streets, they always slept next to each other for protection. Even though they were safe here, it was not a habit they could kick easily.
Clarke still replayed the events of when they first arrived in his head sometimes, though...
The moment Zilas brought them there, he dragged that man off telekinetically and threw him into a holding cell. It appeared that this flying ship, the Moonray, was both his base and his home, as well as his mode of transportation, and was able to cloak and hide itself. But it was when he got back did the confusion happen. The first thing Zilas did was make them get out of their clothes, all of them. At first, Clarke thought maybe he was interested in something else. He had saved their lives sure, but it gave Clarke pause for a moment.
But then, Zilas assured him it was not what he was thinking, and Clarke remembered how people who did think like that usually looked and felt. Zilas didn't give that feeling at all. Instead, after they were naked, he made them use a decontamination shower twice, together with him to make sure everything got washed. Clarke still had some concern, especially when Zilas took them to another large bath afterwards to help them clean off. But the third thing he did to him confirmed the new theory Clarke had: Zilas was looking out for them.
That was because he gave them a bunch of immune system boosters and vitamins to take. Since Clarke and Clara had been orphans, he had been concerned that they might be suffering or carrying something really bad, and also figured, correctly, they had not had a proper bath in years.
As for the clothes, he had them go through their own decontamination and then wash cycle, on the off chance they could be saved, but figured he should just get new ones for them anyways. Since it seemed like the ship was almost always in the air, the only way in or out was through Zilas' teleportation.
And then, he taught advanced knowledge and training, and various other things such as things vital to knowing how to serve him. He could be insane, utterly mad at times, and merciless. Clarke and Clara saw what he could do, and how powerful and dangerous he could be. The training program they did could also sometimes be strict and merciless, but they had already agreed and he did save his life.
Clarke decided to let Clara sleep a bit more, and got dressed into some sweats to work out in as he started to do a morning jog around the ship. Normally, he tried to wake up earlier then Zilas as part of being a servant, but during his run he heard activity inside the tech room, at least that was what Zilas called it. It was full of computers, news monitoring devices, but it also had some tables and couches and even its own fridge even though the kitchen was close by. Maybe it was meant for a team to use to plan covert ops or something?
As he checked inside, he found Zilas looking at the news...he didn't look upset, but he didn't look happy either. As an orphan on the street dedicated to protecting himself and his sister, Clarke could pick up on these things...
Zilas stared at the news monitor in annoyance until he finally noticed Clarke was there. It looked like he was still wearing his running clothes, so he was probably still in the middle of his morning run. Clarke and his sister, both were already showing so much potential. It made Zilas a bit happier, remembering that he saved them.
"Master Zilas? What is the matter?"
"Well, it looks like the group I had been keeping a watch out for, those clowns...what were their name?"
"Which one? Their official name, Commedia Dellarte, or the one you gave them, Gibberish Clowns?"
"Both is fine..." Zilas said. In truth, he just wanted to see if Clarke remembered. "Anyways, it looks like one of the reasons they were in contant with Arms Dealers was for explosives...look at the news".
Zilas turned on the news, to where Clarke could see the messages laid out before them. The subtitles helped for sure, but...Clarke noticed something, probably what Zilas was testing him on.
"It could just be the way he speaks, but...the subtitles are to distract from that likely possibility right?"
"A plus Clarke, as always. YOu know, for an Orphan you know quite a bit".
"We lived in an old library for some time. It was dangerous outside, so we did nothing but read".
"Ah. Anyways, yes yes. Most likely, the person speaking is not actually some radical islamist. Because there are subtitles, most people focus on that, but the accent...while yes, it COULD be how they speak, or a number of other things, the most likely answer is that they are not Arabic but reading phonetic translations".
"So, the point is chaos..."
For a moment, Clarke considering commenting on why Zilas disliked this group who seemed similar to himself, but held his tongue and didn't say something so stupid. For one thing, Zilas always made sure his actions would not hurt children. From what Clarke and Clara heard so far, they had a rough understanding of what Zilas went through. Hell, when they bathed together they saw the scars.
"Yes, but chaos in the worst possible way. There are differences between various types of chaos, and this...this is clearly a bad type. I am heading into the city, see what the first responders and such find out, and do some investigating myself".
"Do you want me to prepare anything?"
"Yes, I want you to mop and scrub the north hallways naked for thinking for a moment I was similar to them".
"Wait, what..."
"I can read people too Clarke. Otherwise, I will be fine. Oh, and you have to do all of Clara's chores too today for not immediately admitting and accepting it. She gets the day off".
"Yes sir..."
And so, with those words, Zilas set off...although to be fair, given there was only them on the ship, and no one else would find them, the only real part of that punishment was giving Clarke the extra work.
That said, Zilas also did it to distract himself. After all, those facilities they blew up helped children, a lot of them. Therefore, Zilas was actually really pissed off right now...he might just go and kill someone to blow off steam.
Having arrived on scene, Bashemath walked over to get a closer look at the disaster zone. Xander stayed behind, even in disguise he was still much too tall, much too intimidating. Dust still stirred in the air, officers who had arrived on scene had to wear masks to keep from inhaling possible toxic elements in the air, leaving nothing to risk against what seemed to be terrorists. They were holding back a growing crowd, some weeping for their friends and loved ones who most likely lie dead or dying in the rubble, others yell at the police like they could have prevented this. All the while this is going on, Bashemath snuck her way to the zone, observing the mostly crumbled structure, slightly shaking. Due to the dust and debris carried through the air, and the cover of dark, the officers are left oblivious to her presence
"Why?" she uttered, a slight quiver in her voice. She swallows her fear, she would fulfill her prime directive. She closed her eyes and focused, as a multitude of eyes open elsewhere as figures from the shadows of the streets began to scurry towards her. Vermin and other animals, once dead, reanimated and scattered throughout the city as her sentinels, now by her power came to the call of her will, and, in multitude began to secretly dig into the rubble. Through their eyes she could see, through their ears she could hear, through their bodies she could feel, and through them she could tragically sense many dead... a crestfallen moan escaping her throat, but soon a gasp, as deeper... stifled breath. She reaches out her hands into the air, cupping them upwards as if she was holding something. The creatures, though small, collectively move the rubble and begin to free the entrapped bodies, carefully moving them to the surface with careful surgical guidance. Bashemath herself seemed to dance in a trance, flailing her arms into the air, eyes still closed.
"Shit, have the rats already began to eat at them?" an officer muttered, having noticed the vermin squirming their way through as the dust began to clear. The sight before him was more than what he had imagined, as the rats were exhuming the victims in a systematic manner, and placing them next to each other. He nudged another officer who swatted his hand aside, on edge from the carnage, but paused as the scene caught his eye. "The hell... is this?"
Running over to the scene the officers swung at the rats, and the vermin scattered out of sight. Kneeling over, the officers checked the victims, finding they have faint heartbeats and shallowed breath. Their bodies covered bruises and gashes, but alive all the same. Without hesitation, they began to signal to the medics.
Bashemath watching as they placed them on stretchers slipped quietly back away from the scene, certain she had not been noticed. They would see it as a... freak event of nature, that maybe the rats intended to feed on the food buried underneath and inadvertently freed the survivors. None of that mattered to her, however, she was only concerned with fulfilling her directive.
"Why?" she uttered, a slight quiver in her voice. She swallows her fear, she would fulfill her prime directive. She closed her eyes and focused, as a multitude of eyes open elsewhere as figures from the shadows of the streets began to scurry towards her. Vermin and other animals, once dead, reanimated and scattered throughout the city as her sentinels, now by her power came to the call of her will, and, in multitude began to secretly dig into the rubble. Through their eyes she could see, through their ears she could hear, through their bodies she could feel, and through them she could tragically sense many dead... a crestfallen moan escaping her throat, but soon a gasp, as deeper... stifled breath. She reaches out her hands into the air, cupping them upwards as if she was holding something. The creatures, though small, collectively move the rubble and begin to free the entrapped bodies, carefully moving them to the surface with careful surgical guidance. Bashemath herself seemed to dance in a trance, flailing her arms into the air, eyes still closed.
"Shit, have the rats already began to eat at them?" an officer muttered, having noticed the vermin squirming their way through as the dust began to clear. The sight before him was more than what he had imagined, as the rats were exhuming the victims in a systematic manner, and placing them next to each other. He nudged another officer who swatted his hand aside, on edge from the carnage, but paused as the scene caught his eye. "The hell... is this?"
Running over to the scene the officers swung at the rats, and the vermin scattered out of sight. Kneeling over, the officers checked the victims, finding they have faint heartbeats and shallowed breath. Their bodies covered bruises and gashes, but alive all the same. Without hesitation, they began to signal to the medics.
Bashemath watching as they placed them on stretchers slipped quietly back away from the scene, certain she had not been noticed. They would see it as a... freak event of nature, that maybe the rats intended to feed on the food buried underneath and inadvertently freed the survivors. None of that mattered to her, however, she was only concerned with fulfilling her directive.
It was now approximately 20 minutes after the initial explosion had been heard. Arthur and Peter had quickly left the diner, with Tracy and the other staff being ordered by Arthur to get to their homes quickly, and to make whatever necessary preparations were needed to keep them safe. The two agents had taken their respective cars and headed towards the approximate location of the explosion, but the 'panic traffic' was making the roads more difficult to navigate.
By the time they finally arrived, the building had collapsed completely. Rubble was strewn everywhere, some people wandered the area in a sort of daze, totally lost in shock from what they had seen, while other people... Weren't so lucky.
There was something of a light in Peter's eyes as he glanced around the rubble and bodies. Looking at the ruins of the old building, a theory was building in his mind. "Arthur, this wasn't just something random... This building was supposed to be resistant to most conventional explosives. Even regular demolition explosives would have had some trouble with the building's resistance... This was military grade."
Arthur's face was somber and serious as he walked up next to Peter, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Is this anything that came from you?" He asked directly.
Peter rolled his eyes slightly. "Us Arthur, let's not dance around that, okay? And no. Definitely not us. I've had access to some big stuff before, but this... This would have taken someone with some more 'elite' connections than I have." He looked around the area once more, still somewhat stunned and unsettled by the carnage. "Arthur, there may just end up being something to your conspiracies."
Some chatter could be heard a little ways away from Arthur and Peter, officers remarking on the strange 'occurrence' that had happened, rats carrying survivors out of the rubble. They were beginning to get more talkative, and coming up with their own 'explanations' for what they saw. Arthur and Peter began to make their way over to the group.
"I bet it was one of those f***ing witch people, rats don't act like that! This is why we should be tossing them into a-"
"Officer," Peter said in an even voice. "Have you ever wanted to know what it tastes like to swallow your own teeth? Cause if you do, then by all means, please keep talking." The even, confident, monotone to his voice was almost a little scary in that moment.
The officers were a little stunned for a moment as the one who'd been talking fumbled a response. "Y-you're not supp-"
Peter cut him off by simply flipping his FBI badge. "Actually we are. You boys do your job and keep your mouths shut, and I'll do my job and won't harass your teeth." He kept walking, signalling Arthur to follow him to get a better inspection of the area, and whatever it was the cops had been gossiping about.
That's when they both saw it, the rats skittering away from some bodies that had all been laid out on the ground. They could see a few at least were breathing, so it looked like survivors. Paramedics were closely rushing in to gather them up and pull them back to a safer location before transport to a hospital.
"You think this was actually the work of a magic user?"
"Hard to say. To be honest this is a first for me, so we're treading some very new water here. Best to be-" Peter's attention was caught by something moving near an alleyway.
Arthur noticed as well. It was a man, dressed in very strange clothes. He wore a sweater vest, a pair of brown trousers, and a light blue dress shirt. As Arthur thought about it, he started to get almost a '1950's dad' vibe from the person. But when the man turned, he was greeted by that unmistakable grinning comedy mask. "Peter, we got a perp!"
The oddly dressed man started running down the alleyway, and both Peter and Arthur chased after him. Adrenaline pumped through both of them as they pushed themselves to the max, wanting to be absolutely certain they caught one of the psychos responsible for this. They turned down the alley and ran for a few more seconds before coming to an abrupt stop. The man was just standing there, back turned to the two of them.
"HANDS IN THE AIR OR IT'LL BE YOUR BRAINS!" Arthur shouted as both he and Peter trained their pistols on the man.
The man began laughing, slowly and a bit muffled at first, but it got louder and louder, almost hysterical as he turned around. "SMILE!" He shouted as he extended his arm out to them, holding a detonator in his hand.
Both Peter and Arthur began firing like mad, but it was too late. The man had pressed the detonator.
They had been expecting an explosion, and they got one, but not at all what they had been expecting. There was now a fine red mist where the man's head had been before. There was no bone, no flesh, and no sign of the mask either as his body crumpled instantly to the ground.
Arthur unconsciously fell onto his knees, his hands dropping down to his lap, a look of confusion on his face as he tried to process what he had just seen.
Peter put his gun away and pulled out a cigarette. He went over to a dumpster, leaned against it, and lit up. He took a few puffs as he thought over the whole situation too, his face unnaturally calm and collected, and the little spatters of blood on it seemed to be totally unnoticed by him.
"They're... They're completely insane." Arthur sputtered out. "He didn't even bother to try fighting back... Our only suspect so far... He just... How could someone do that?"
"With explosives." Peter said neutrally with a shrug. "Either in the mask somewhere, or the mask was made out of it." His voice remained monotone.
"That's not funny Peter..." Arthur managed to get out from gritted teeth.
Peter shrugged again, nodding to the body. "He seemed to think it was." A rat then scurried by, followed by another, and another, until it looked like dozens were running past the two agents. Peter curiously followed their run with his eyes, noticing two figures standing in the distance.
"Peter, those aren't cops."
By the time they finally arrived, the building had collapsed completely. Rubble was strewn everywhere, some people wandered the area in a sort of daze, totally lost in shock from what they had seen, while other people... Weren't so lucky.
There was something of a light in Peter's eyes as he glanced around the rubble and bodies. Looking at the ruins of the old building, a theory was building in his mind. "Arthur, this wasn't just something random... This building was supposed to be resistant to most conventional explosives. Even regular demolition explosives would have had some trouble with the building's resistance... This was military grade."
Arthur's face was somber and serious as he walked up next to Peter, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Is this anything that came from you?" He asked directly.
Peter rolled his eyes slightly. "Us Arthur, let's not dance around that, okay? And no. Definitely not us. I've had access to some big stuff before, but this... This would have taken someone with some more 'elite' connections than I have." He looked around the area once more, still somewhat stunned and unsettled by the carnage. "Arthur, there may just end up being something to your conspiracies."
Some chatter could be heard a little ways away from Arthur and Peter, officers remarking on the strange 'occurrence' that had happened, rats carrying survivors out of the rubble. They were beginning to get more talkative, and coming up with their own 'explanations' for what they saw. Arthur and Peter began to make their way over to the group.
"I bet it was one of those f***ing witch people, rats don't act like that! This is why we should be tossing them into a-"
"Officer," Peter said in an even voice. "Have you ever wanted to know what it tastes like to swallow your own teeth? Cause if you do, then by all means, please keep talking." The even, confident, monotone to his voice was almost a little scary in that moment.
The officers were a little stunned for a moment as the one who'd been talking fumbled a response. "Y-you're not supp-"
Peter cut him off by simply flipping his FBI badge. "Actually we are. You boys do your job and keep your mouths shut, and I'll do my job and won't harass your teeth." He kept walking, signalling Arthur to follow him to get a better inspection of the area, and whatever it was the cops had been gossiping about.
That's when they both saw it, the rats skittering away from some bodies that had all been laid out on the ground. They could see a few at least were breathing, so it looked like survivors. Paramedics were closely rushing in to gather them up and pull them back to a safer location before transport to a hospital.
"You think this was actually the work of a magic user?"
"Hard to say. To be honest this is a first for me, so we're treading some very new water here. Best to be-" Peter's attention was caught by something moving near an alleyway.
Arthur noticed as well. It was a man, dressed in very strange clothes. He wore a sweater vest, a pair of brown trousers, and a light blue dress shirt. As Arthur thought about it, he started to get almost a '1950's dad' vibe from the person. But when the man turned, he was greeted by that unmistakable grinning comedy mask. "Peter, we got a perp!"
The oddly dressed man started running down the alleyway, and both Peter and Arthur chased after him. Adrenaline pumped through both of them as they pushed themselves to the max, wanting to be absolutely certain they caught one of the psychos responsible for this. They turned down the alley and ran for a few more seconds before coming to an abrupt stop. The man was just standing there, back turned to the two of them.
"HANDS IN THE AIR OR IT'LL BE YOUR BRAINS!" Arthur shouted as both he and Peter trained their pistols on the man.
The man began laughing, slowly and a bit muffled at first, but it got louder and louder, almost hysterical as he turned around. "SMILE!" He shouted as he extended his arm out to them, holding a detonator in his hand.
Both Peter and Arthur began firing like mad, but it was too late. The man had pressed the detonator.
They had been expecting an explosion, and they got one, but not at all what they had been expecting. There was now a fine red mist where the man's head had been before. There was no bone, no flesh, and no sign of the mask either as his body crumpled instantly to the ground.
Arthur unconsciously fell onto his knees, his hands dropping down to his lap, a look of confusion on his face as he tried to process what he had just seen.
Peter put his gun away and pulled out a cigarette. He went over to a dumpster, leaned against it, and lit up. He took a few puffs as he thought over the whole situation too, his face unnaturally calm and collected, and the little spatters of blood on it seemed to be totally unnoticed by him.
"They're... They're completely insane." Arthur sputtered out. "He didn't even bother to try fighting back... Our only suspect so far... He just... How could someone do that?"
"With explosives." Peter said neutrally with a shrug. "Either in the mask somewhere, or the mask was made out of it." His voice remained monotone.
"That's not funny Peter..." Arthur managed to get out from gritted teeth.
Peter shrugged again, nodding to the body. "He seemed to think it was." A rat then scurried by, followed by another, and another, until it looked like dozens were running past the two agents. Peter curiously followed their run with his eyes, noticing two figures standing in the distance.
"Peter, those aren't cops."
While most people had rushed off to the scene of the incident that had just occured, although Zilas could get there if he wanted to, he decided to leave the footwork and the mass evidence collecting and scene inspection to the police and government types. Not that he trusted them, but that he didn't feel like bothering with them or doing work he didn't need to. At least not yet.
No, where he went actually was convienent for him. He thought he would have to do one first, and then another, but it turned out that two things he wanted to do happened to be doable in the same place.
A nice and simple looking office building, it was the place where various building and construction records for city buildings was kept. It also had its own security as well, due to the fact that terrorists might come here to look for data that would help them commit terrorism. It had ties to various construction and demolition companies as well, so it worked well to have security.
Of course, what no one including the government knew was that it was also owned by the...
"Umm, hey. So do you really call yourself the Neo-Mob? Really?"
It was not predominantly Russian, Irish, or anything like that. It was a lot of criminal organizations that were smaller, but secretly unified and joined together to become this secret Neo-Mob. It was a rather interesting organization style too. To outsiders, even those in the criminal world, it might look like they were seperate individual organizations. This also meant that anything that seemed too high or advanced for a group individually could be achieved collectively.
Of course, Zilas who had thoroughly interrogating many past legal limits using his powers knew the truth, though it was only from that last guy that he finally had a solid lead on where to search. Which was why he was able to enter and deal with them, because he expected them but they had not expected him.
The person who he had psychokinetically blasted into a wall gave a meek nod with the last of his strength.
"Huh. Anyways, this really does work well for me that you have a base here you know?"
He asked that to the man who appeared to be in charge, that he had cornered in his office. There were two reasons Zilas was here. First, he was going to access the records and see who had gotten access to those building schematics. New York was a prime terror target, so they were extremely paranoid with records like these. If someone accessed those building records, even if it was a residential apartment building, there would be a trail.
And second, these were also the arms dealers that apparently had been moving explosives around. In other words, they were the ones he heard rumors about dealing to people in white masks as well. It was possible they sold the information too.
"So, Mr. Lets play a game. Will you give me what I want first, or will I get bored and throw you out the window first? Let's start....now!"
Hearing those words, and having seen what happened, the man spent no time to save his own skin and give Zilas all the information he wanted, both from computer records and his own memory. The fact that they were using pier 7, the fact that they had sold high quality military explosives that were not limited to grenades, and of course the records of who had access to the plans. From what Zilas learned, they keep the two businesses seperate, so they didn't sell out the building plans as that would make them tracable. In other words, if these people got the plans from here, and Zilas found that highly likely, then they accessed them through legitimate channels. He hoped something in this data would help him.
That said, Zilas started to hear sirens in the area. He wondered if the police, or even the FBI maybe, got the same idea as him, or if they had gotten reports from the area. Still, once Zilas got the information he needed, he figured now would be a good time to check on what the cops had found so far. Maybe something interesting, different from the reports and maps he had, that could shed some light.
No, where he went actually was convienent for him. He thought he would have to do one first, and then another, but it turned out that two things he wanted to do happened to be doable in the same place.
A nice and simple looking office building, it was the place where various building and construction records for city buildings was kept. It also had its own security as well, due to the fact that terrorists might come here to look for data that would help them commit terrorism. It had ties to various construction and demolition companies as well, so it worked well to have security.
Of course, what no one including the government knew was that it was also owned by the...
"Umm, hey. So do you really call yourself the Neo-Mob? Really?"
It was not predominantly Russian, Irish, or anything like that. It was a lot of criminal organizations that were smaller, but secretly unified and joined together to become this secret Neo-Mob. It was a rather interesting organization style too. To outsiders, even those in the criminal world, it might look like they were seperate individual organizations. This also meant that anything that seemed too high or advanced for a group individually could be achieved collectively.
Of course, Zilas who had thoroughly interrogating many past legal limits using his powers knew the truth, though it was only from that last guy that he finally had a solid lead on where to search. Which was why he was able to enter and deal with them, because he expected them but they had not expected him.
The person who he had psychokinetically blasted into a wall gave a meek nod with the last of his strength.
"Huh. Anyways, this really does work well for me that you have a base here you know?"
He asked that to the man who appeared to be in charge, that he had cornered in his office. There were two reasons Zilas was here. First, he was going to access the records and see who had gotten access to those building schematics. New York was a prime terror target, so they were extremely paranoid with records like these. If someone accessed those building records, even if it was a residential apartment building, there would be a trail.
And second, these were also the arms dealers that apparently had been moving explosives around. In other words, they were the ones he heard rumors about dealing to people in white masks as well. It was possible they sold the information too.
"So, Mr. Lets play a game. Will you give me what I want first, or will I get bored and throw you out the window first? Let's start....now!"
Hearing those words, and having seen what happened, the man spent no time to save his own skin and give Zilas all the information he wanted, both from computer records and his own memory. The fact that they were using pier 7, the fact that they had sold high quality military explosives that were not limited to grenades, and of course the records of who had access to the plans. From what Zilas learned, they keep the two businesses seperate, so they didn't sell out the building plans as that would make them tracable. In other words, if these people got the plans from here, and Zilas found that highly likely, then they accessed them through legitimate channels. He hoped something in this data would help him.
That said, Zilas started to hear sirens in the area. He wondered if the police, or even the FBI maybe, got the same idea as him, or if they had gotten reports from the area. Still, once Zilas got the information he needed, he figured now would be a good time to check on what the cops had found so far. Maybe something interesting, different from the reports and maps he had, that could shed some light.
"O-oh," Bashemath uttered, upon hearing a rather wet explosion, freezing in her tracks as a rat ran up her shoulder. Slowly she looked back over her shoulder at two figures who stared directly towards them. Based on their clothes and general stance, she deduced they were some kind of law enforcement.
Xander turned, his extraordinarily tall form casting a shadow on the agents. "Problematic," he muttered. He began to menacingly approach them, his long arms raising up, but Bashemath tugged on his coat causing him to stop. He paused and looked over at her. She simply shook her head slowly, and, as if understanding his partner's intent, lowered his arms and stood simply as a statue as she walked ahead of him.
"Please forgive my brother, he's just looking out for me," Bashemath said, her tone as friendly as possible. She knew there was no getting out of this encounter, and she wasn't about to let Xander cause harm to people at random. She froze in place, as she now got a better sight of the agent, an audible crack in her throat as she slowly pointed at him, or rather, splatter on his clothes."I-is that..?"
"Blood," Xander bluntly explained. "What is in that alley is most likely not for your eyes."
"What happened..?" she asked, her voice having an increasingly distressed tone to it. She then looked directly to Arthur. Reading his face and body language, she determined that he was also distressed, likely more-so. Based on apparent age, it wasn't deemed healthy to remain in a stressed state. Without any resistance she slowly raised up her arms. "We submit to your authority. Whatever gets him to sit down the soonest," she said, making a motion to Arthur.
Xander turned, his extraordinarily tall form casting a shadow on the agents. "Problematic," he muttered. He began to menacingly approach them, his long arms raising up, but Bashemath tugged on his coat causing him to stop. He paused and looked over at her. She simply shook her head slowly, and, as if understanding his partner's intent, lowered his arms and stood simply as a statue as she walked ahead of him.
"Please forgive my brother, he's just looking out for me," Bashemath said, her tone as friendly as possible. She knew there was no getting out of this encounter, and she wasn't about to let Xander cause harm to people at random. She froze in place, as she now got a better sight of the agent, an audible crack in her throat as she slowly pointed at him, or rather, splatter on his clothes."I-is that..?"
"Blood," Xander bluntly explained. "What is in that alley is most likely not for your eyes."
"What happened..?" she asked, her voice having an increasingly distressed tone to it. She then looked directly to Arthur. Reading his face and body language, she determined that he was also distressed, likely more-so. Based on apparent age, it wasn't deemed healthy to remain in a stressed state. Without any resistance she slowly raised up her arms. "We submit to your authority. Whatever gets him to sit down the soonest," she said, making a motion to Arthur.
Arthur's face contorted mildly in confusion. Firstly, why would ANYONE 'submit to authority' of cops, feds, or anyone else? And secondly, they both looked incredibly strange. Arthur assumed the smaller one was a female, who seemed relatively normal in shape (despite her odd clothes, even by modern standards), but many other things about her seemed off. And the other, the giant... Well he was just downright bizarre.
"Alright, you two just stay right there and don't move. Alright? You play cool and we won't shoot." Peter responded with that unnerving neutral tone.
'How is he not even surprised?' Arthur thought internally. 'He looks completely unfazed, like this is an every day thing...'
Peter pulled out a com device, with an ear piece and a glass part that went in front of his left eye. "Control, we have some... Suspects we need to take in, might be regarding the terrorist attack here in New York. We're about a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty meters away from the site of the attack. Requesting an airlift out with the suspects. Bring something... Spacious." When he finished he gave a nod to Arthur and put the com device back in his jacket. "You should probably sit down Arthur, take a load off while we wait."
He nodded in agreement before going to sit down on a trash bin, not taking his eyes off the two strange beings for a long while. When he finally did, it was to look over at Peter, when he noticed the blood was still on his face. He stared for a bit until Peter turned to look at him.
Peter cocked an eyebrow, confused about why Arthur was staring at him so intently. When Arthur signed about something on his face, Peter did a quick check with his hand. Now it finally registered that he had blood from the terrorist on him. He turned away for a moment as he pulled out a handkerchief and quickly wiped his face clean, placing the piece of fabric back in his jacket when he finished.
Arthur looked back at the strange things again, a bit transfixed by them. He didn't say anything, he couldn't find any words worth using.
"Well I hope everyone here likes sight seeing. Sounds like we're heading to D.C. tonight." He leaned back again, pistol out and resting casually against his lap, with no intent showing beyond that he was intent on being prepared.
"Alright, you two just stay right there and don't move. Alright? You play cool and we won't shoot." Peter responded with that unnerving neutral tone.
'How is he not even surprised?' Arthur thought internally. 'He looks completely unfazed, like this is an every day thing...'
Peter pulled out a com device, with an ear piece and a glass part that went in front of his left eye. "Control, we have some... Suspects we need to take in, might be regarding the terrorist attack here in New York. We're about a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty meters away from the site of the attack. Requesting an airlift out with the suspects. Bring something... Spacious." When he finished he gave a nod to Arthur and put the com device back in his jacket. "You should probably sit down Arthur, take a load off while we wait."
He nodded in agreement before going to sit down on a trash bin, not taking his eyes off the two strange beings for a long while. When he finally did, it was to look over at Peter, when he noticed the blood was still on his face. He stared for a bit until Peter turned to look at him.
Peter cocked an eyebrow, confused about why Arthur was staring at him so intently. When Arthur signed about something on his face, Peter did a quick check with his hand. Now it finally registered that he had blood from the terrorist on him. He turned away for a moment as he pulled out a handkerchief and quickly wiped his face clean, placing the piece of fabric back in his jacket when he finished.
Arthur looked back at the strange things again, a bit transfixed by them. He didn't say anything, he couldn't find any words worth using.
"Well I hope everyone here likes sight seeing. Sounds like we're heading to D.C. tonight." He leaned back again, pistol out and resting casually against his lap, with no intent showing beyond that he was intent on being prepared.
Bashemath stood still, not moving from her position, just as she was told. She looked around between the two agents. She then locked focus back on Arthur, who has not said much, unlike his unusually composed partner. She reached over for her helmet and slowly removed it. Her face was mostly human, aside from the somewhat odd discoloration of her skin, eyes, and some dark splotches on her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, to be expected from the helmet. For the man's own sanity, she kept her ears covered for now, and just gave a smile, lowering one of her arms to just awkwardly wave at him.
Xander looked over at his sibling. "Why have you removed your mask?"
"I figured a face would offer some comfort, the man is utterly distraught," she responded. "His partner is quite stoic by comparison, he possesses a much more controlled composure. This likely isn't his... how they say? First rodeo?"
"Is he negligent towards the psychological needs of his partner?"
"What? No, my theory is that he feels it more appropriate to establish control on the situation with the least emotional response possible, a... learned defensive process, he's focused on the task at hand. Not too unlike you, actually. But this is mere speculation," she continues, waving her hand around a bit to Xander. She then turned her attention back to the two agents. "I'm Bashemath by the way, and this is Xander, hmmm... those are pretty complex... um, perhaps... nicknames would help?" She gave an awkward crooked smile and shrugged.
Xander turned his head slightly, sensing another human-sized being alone on the streets. Possibly not a threat, however.
Xander looked over at his sibling. "Why have you removed your mask?"
"I figured a face would offer some comfort, the man is utterly distraught," she responded. "His partner is quite stoic by comparison, he possesses a much more controlled composure. This likely isn't his... how they say? First rodeo?"
"Is he negligent towards the psychological needs of his partner?"
"What? No, my theory is that he feels it more appropriate to establish control on the situation with the least emotional response possible, a... learned defensive process, he's focused on the task at hand. Not too unlike you, actually. But this is mere speculation," she continues, waving her hand around a bit to Xander. She then turned her attention back to the two agents. "I'm Bashemath by the way, and this is Xander, hmmm... those are pretty complex... um, perhaps... nicknames would help?" She gave an awkward crooked smile and shrugged.
Xander turned his head slightly, sensing another human-sized being alone on the streets. Possibly not a threat, however.
"Ehhhhhh~" Zilas said, watching from afar with eyes as if he had found a new toy to play with. Of course, this was while he was monitoring the scene from far away. Far enough to not be detected, and to drink a nice glass of wine.
"Should you even be drinking wine?" Clark asked over the comms, even though Zilas had not told him anything. "And what new toys did you find this time?"
"Clarke, why are you on comms? Wasn't it Clara's turn?"
"Remember, you gave me all her tasks today, naked".
Zilas was pretty sure he only said that for the hallway...and he was pretty half hearted about it. Well, that was Clarke's mistake. He would probably figure it out soon anyways, he was a smart kid...he might also be playing it safe.
Or this was all a joke and he lied right there. Would be interesting to find out which.
"Anyways, why do you ask? Are the older toys getting jealous?"
"No way. Anyways, it got you interested..."
"Well, either my eyesight is getting worse..."
Clarke wanted to comment that he was pretty sure those glasses were fake and he had 20/20 vision, but he didn't feel like invoking any more wraith today.
"...or there are two totally non-normal individuals, getting arrested by two completely normal feds".
"Wait wait! Arrested arrested? Not gassed, or trapped in some cage, or whatever, but with actual handcuffs by real cops?!"
"Yeah..."
"...amazing, to think the legal system actually still works that well...how do you know for certain though?"
"Aside from personal experience...based on what I see through the scouter, one of them has that sort of face..."
"What sort of face?"
"The face you made when we first met".
"Oh...I guess the police can behave like actual people then also...sometimes...."
Incidentally, Clarke had as little faith...no, he might even have less faith, in the legal system then Zilas.
"Clarke, there should be some state of the art police listening programs there somewhere, if they make it to an interrogation room, I want to see that comedy show. Make sure we get the recordings".
"...you dont even care about the information do you? You just want to see how the interrogators handle this".
"Don't you as well?"
"The popcorn will be ready by the time you get back".
"Excellent, now..."
He changed his view from looking through a scouter, to looking down at the factory where a certain arms dealer was currently taking stock of his finest goods. Maybe, given the additional heat that would pour down soon, he wanted to offload them before he got caught or something, though it looked like a good amount was already missing.
And so, seeing an opportunity, with no one else seemingly around, Zilas teleported behind the man, and tapped him on the shoulder while using his most innocent and childlike voice possible.
"Excuse me, Mr...but could you tell me how you contact the people you have been selling weapons and bombs to, and where their base of operations is if possible?"
At first, the arms dealer would likely be very confused by Zilas' sudden appearance from behind out of nowhere, before finally going into shock. Of course, Zilas was already prepared. When the shock wore off, his smile would soon resemble more of an evil demon that had caught its prey.
And should the man try to raise a hand against him, Zilas would telekinetically blast him, and then perform a full psionic interrogation. Of course, so long as they locked eyes, and he didn't do anything to disrupt it, Zilas planned to do that anyways.
Zilas was very careful, but that did not mean he could not get things done quickly.
(My brain was kinda dying a bit, but I managed! Hope its good!)
"Should you even be drinking wine?" Clark asked over the comms, even though Zilas had not told him anything. "And what new toys did you find this time?"
"Clarke, why are you on comms? Wasn't it Clara's turn?"
"Remember, you gave me all her tasks today, naked".
Zilas was pretty sure he only said that for the hallway...and he was pretty half hearted about it. Well, that was Clarke's mistake. He would probably figure it out soon anyways, he was a smart kid...he might also be playing it safe.
Or this was all a joke and he lied right there. Would be interesting to find out which.
"Anyways, why do you ask? Are the older toys getting jealous?"
"No way. Anyways, it got you interested..."
"Well, either my eyesight is getting worse..."
Clarke wanted to comment that he was pretty sure those glasses were fake and he had 20/20 vision, but he didn't feel like invoking any more wraith today.
"...or there are two totally non-normal individuals, getting arrested by two completely normal feds".
"Wait wait! Arrested arrested? Not gassed, or trapped in some cage, or whatever, but with actual handcuffs by real cops?!"
"Yeah..."
"...amazing, to think the legal system actually still works that well...how do you know for certain though?"
"Aside from personal experience...based on what I see through the scouter, one of them has that sort of face..."
"What sort of face?"
"The face you made when we first met".
"Oh...I guess the police can behave like actual people then also...sometimes...."
Incidentally, Clarke had as little faith...no, he might even have less faith, in the legal system then Zilas.
"Clarke, there should be some state of the art police listening programs there somewhere, if they make it to an interrogation room, I want to see that comedy show. Make sure we get the recordings".
"...you dont even care about the information do you? You just want to see how the interrogators handle this".
"Don't you as well?"
"The popcorn will be ready by the time you get back".
"Excellent, now..."
He changed his view from looking through a scouter, to looking down at the factory where a certain arms dealer was currently taking stock of his finest goods. Maybe, given the additional heat that would pour down soon, he wanted to offload them before he got caught or something, though it looked like a good amount was already missing.
And so, seeing an opportunity, with no one else seemingly around, Zilas teleported behind the man, and tapped him on the shoulder while using his most innocent and childlike voice possible.
"Excuse me, Mr...but could you tell me how you contact the people you have been selling weapons and bombs to, and where their base of operations is if possible?"
At first, the arms dealer would likely be very confused by Zilas' sudden appearance from behind out of nowhere, before finally going into shock. Of course, Zilas was already prepared. When the shock wore off, his smile would soon resemble more of an evil demon that had caught its prey.
And should the man try to raise a hand against him, Zilas would telekinetically blast him, and then perform a full psionic interrogation. Of course, so long as they locked eyes, and he didn't do anything to disrupt it, Zilas planned to do that anyways.
Zilas was very careful, but that did not mean he could not get things done quickly.
(My brain was kinda dying a bit, but I managed! Hope its good!)
Arthur looked over to the two beings again, taken aback when the female decided to remove part of her helmet and wave at him. 'She... Is she a gene splicer or something? I have never seen anything that severe before...' He thought to himself.
"Peter and Arthur." Was the eased response Arthur's partner made, pointing a hand at himself and Arthur. Peter checked his watch, it'd been about ten minutes since he'd made the call, so he was expecting pickup soon. "Never been good with nicknames myself. How about Bash and Xan? Not exactly clever, but it's been a long day."
There was a nod of agreement from Arthur. "Not trying to be rude or anything, but you do have the right to remain silent you know."
Peter chuckled slightly. "I think my partner just needs some quiet for right now." He looked over towards the two strange figures, a calm smile on his lips. "Much as I'd love to hear more about the two of- Oh well would you look at that." A FBI 'drop ship' began to fly overhead of them, straitening itself out and landing near the entrance of the alleyway.
Arthur sighed slightly, getting back up and unholstering his pistol too. He nodded towards the ship. "Alright you two, make this easy for me. Walk over to the drop ship, get in, and don't make any sudden moves or anything." Arthur's tone was emotionless, and a little tired.
"Oh they won't be causing us any trouble tonight Arthur." Peter said with a slight smile. "Not that I want to make any assumptions, but I don't think that's what these two want at all." Stepping to the side of the alley slightly, Peter extended his arm, pointing it towards the ship that awaited them. "After you."
The weapons dealer looked shocked for a moment, but once his eyes had locked with Zilas, he seemed to become at ease. "W-what? People I've been selling weapons to? You mean the Cartels? Or the mercs?" The man's eyes seemed to wander in a dazed state. "I just give the guns to the guys they send, and they give me the money. It's no big deal." His eyes still wandered, he seemed almost totally lost in the daze.
"Lot's of guys come in and see me, they all just pay the money and take the weapons. Oh! There are those weird folks too, they always cover their faces, never say too much either. Just give me money an-"
The man's head disappeared leaving behind a fine mist of blood and gore, while a large hole exploded in the ground nearby (a result from the .50 caliber round that had passed through the gun dealers head). A few flashes of light could be seen from rooftops nearby, all seemingly aimed at Zilas. They weren't from guns however, but from some kinds of cameras.
In another moment, a knife could be felt at Zilas's throat, as someone began to whisper into his ear. "Now now little one, you're going down the wrong rabbit hole. You've got some fine gifts, but they'd be put to better use investigating someone else. Maybe some strange beings caught by the FBI, hehehehe..." The voice trailed off a bit, and the knife pulled away from Zilas's throat.
The masked, knife wielding figure walked around in front of Zilas, still giggling away as they held something in their hand. "SMILE!" was the last thing said before the white Comedy mask exploded, and the head of the knife wielder with it.
The docks were quiet now. Everything seemed to have ceased. No people moving, no machinery running, just quiet, and the sound of rain.
"Peter and Arthur." Was the eased response Arthur's partner made, pointing a hand at himself and Arthur. Peter checked his watch, it'd been about ten minutes since he'd made the call, so he was expecting pickup soon. "Never been good with nicknames myself. How about Bash and Xan? Not exactly clever, but it's been a long day."
There was a nod of agreement from Arthur. "Not trying to be rude or anything, but you do have the right to remain silent you know."
Peter chuckled slightly. "I think my partner just needs some quiet for right now." He looked over towards the two strange figures, a calm smile on his lips. "Much as I'd love to hear more about the two of- Oh well would you look at that." A FBI 'drop ship' began to fly overhead of them, straitening itself out and landing near the entrance of the alleyway.
Arthur sighed slightly, getting back up and unholstering his pistol too. He nodded towards the ship. "Alright you two, make this easy for me. Walk over to the drop ship, get in, and don't make any sudden moves or anything." Arthur's tone was emotionless, and a little tired.
"Oh they won't be causing us any trouble tonight Arthur." Peter said with a slight smile. "Not that I want to make any assumptions, but I don't think that's what these two want at all." Stepping to the side of the alley slightly, Peter extended his arm, pointing it towards the ship that awaited them. "After you."
_________________________________________________________________________________
The weapons dealer looked shocked for a moment, but once his eyes had locked with Zilas, he seemed to become at ease. "W-what? People I've been selling weapons to? You mean the Cartels? Or the mercs?" The man's eyes seemed to wander in a dazed state. "I just give the guns to the guys they send, and they give me the money. It's no big deal." His eyes still wandered, he seemed almost totally lost in the daze.
"Lot's of guys come in and see me, they all just pay the money and take the weapons. Oh! There are those weird folks too, they always cover their faces, never say too much either. Just give me money an-"
The man's head disappeared leaving behind a fine mist of blood and gore, while a large hole exploded in the ground nearby (a result from the .50 caliber round that had passed through the gun dealers head). A few flashes of light could be seen from rooftops nearby, all seemingly aimed at Zilas. They weren't from guns however, but from some kinds of cameras.
In another moment, a knife could be felt at Zilas's throat, as someone began to whisper into his ear. "Now now little one, you're going down the wrong rabbit hole. You've got some fine gifts, but they'd be put to better use investigating someone else. Maybe some strange beings caught by the FBI, hehehehe..." The voice trailed off a bit, and the knife pulled away from Zilas's throat.
The masked, knife wielding figure walked around in front of Zilas, still giggling away as they held something in their hand. "SMILE!" was the last thing said before the white Comedy mask exploded, and the head of the knife wielder with it.
The docks were quiet now. Everything seemed to have ceased. No people moving, no machinery running, just quiet, and the sound of rain.
Bashemath simply nodded, her smile unbroken as she walked in without a fuss. As she walked by into the craft, she took another glance at Arthur, who remained silent, and her smile wavered some. She then looked over at Xander who followed closely after her, his eyes presumably remaining forward. As they enter there was a quiet exchange between the two. "He's... sort of life father, right?" she whispers.
"Far less smiling," he responds quietly. "But those were forced."
"Not always..." she whispered back, but suddenly she heard something, or rather, the rats heard something. The expression on her face suddenly turned grim, her eyes blanked, pupils dilated. She turned to Xander again, her eyes pleading. "Ah a-another murder... I think."
"Not our priority," he responded rather coldly, causing his sister to look away and sit down, becoming somewhat despondent. Xander in turn sits down next to her, just as quietly, a considerable feat for a being of his stature. It was clear that he struggled in dealing with the more altruistic nature of his sibling. "I am... sorry... forgive me?"
"Yes, always."
"Far less smiling," he responds quietly. "But those were forced."
"Not always..." she whispered back, but suddenly she heard something, or rather, the rats heard something. The expression on her face suddenly turned grim, her eyes blanked, pupils dilated. She turned to Xander again, her eyes pleading. "Ah a-another murder... I think."
"Not our priority," he responded rather coldly, causing his sister to look away and sit down, becoming somewhat despondent. Xander in turn sits down next to her, just as quietly, a considerable feat for a being of his stature. It was clear that he struggled in dealing with the more altruistic nature of his sibling. "I am... sorry... forgive me?"
"Yes, always."
(Sorry for the delay, school stuff kept getting in the way. Actually, I have a terrible headache right now also, but I have some time so I am doing my best)
The moment the man's head exploded, Zilas put his hood up and ducked behind an object. He was not some fool who would leave himself out in the open, but he had thoroughly checked the surroundings. He was sure of it.
I suppose I should give them credit... he thought while taking out a gun he kept with him. Crude, and often unncessary with his powers, but he had to...
The nthe figure started to speak, putting a knife to his throat. That said, some tension was actually released from him, as the figure continued to speak.
They dont want me dead? No, of course. I am too much of an unknown probably. As crazy as they are, they must realize I am some sort of a threat. If they had been watching, they should know I could escape from this easily...in which case, they are not killing me because they dont know if I am alone or not probably. Well, they could just be crazy, but they were cautious enough to go through all this trouble.
At the same time, Zilas watched as the man's head explored before he even had time to restrain and psychically interrogate him.
"Hmmm. Okay then, be that way" he said, with a smirk on his face. "Well now, what to do..."
First off, he definently should NOT do what the crazy terrorists told him to do. Unless, of course, they were looking for a challenge? No, but to fall right into their words was silly. That said, they might be watching him now, waiting to see what he would do...who he would contact.
Wait a second...they knew about the capture? That meant, they were watching the FBI, or those things, as well? Ooooh, you silly, silly terrorists....you made a mistake. You told me you were watching them as well, which means you have people there. Obviously they cant be wearing masks, which means...they could be identified! Sorry Commedia, but you made a fatal mistake.
Even if you planned it out, you dont know my full abilities, especially the ones I trained since I escaped. In other words, if I hunt the ones following the FBI, I can use that to find them. Well, I suppose before I do, I should take care of business here.
Of course, by business, Zilas meant stealing the harddrives, phone, and all other objects of note from the arms dealer. He would also get the paper records, and finally...he copied the fingerprints of both the arms dealer, and the headless man, using some common household supplies, such as tape and all that.
Naturally, he took some DNA samples as well. Now that he thought about it, wasn't there a program to recreate the face from DNA samples?
You want me to play your game, Commedia? Well, let me flip that around. Instead of investigating those two people the FBI caught, I will use the FBI and them as bait, and lure you out instead...you really should be more careful what you say...huh? Maybe that man didn't explode his own head, but they exploded it for him so he wouldn't talk anymore? Well, it might get a tad bit trickier if they thats true, but none the less, I can use the logs of the Arms merchant to learn what they have. It would suck if they had missiles I didn't know about and such. Well, I suppose I will have Clarke update me on what the FBI are doing, and use that information to move forward.
Incidentally, the reason Zilas knew the member was not a threat was because there was a good chance they had seen him teleport, and yet instead of slitting his throat immediately, did not do a thing. If Zilas had wanted to, he could have easily escaped that man, but he just kept on talking, so he decided to keep it going, let him think he had the upper hand, and get some information out of him.
And Zilas had a good theory that was worth testing out, so it worked out well.
The moment the man's head exploded, Zilas put his hood up and ducked behind an object. He was not some fool who would leave himself out in the open, but he had thoroughly checked the surroundings. He was sure of it.
I suppose I should give them credit... he thought while taking out a gun he kept with him. Crude, and often unncessary with his powers, but he had to...
The nthe figure started to speak, putting a knife to his throat. That said, some tension was actually released from him, as the figure continued to speak.
They dont want me dead? No, of course. I am too much of an unknown probably. As crazy as they are, they must realize I am some sort of a threat. If they had been watching, they should know I could escape from this easily...in which case, they are not killing me because they dont know if I am alone or not probably. Well, they could just be crazy, but they were cautious enough to go through all this trouble.
At the same time, Zilas watched as the man's head explored before he even had time to restrain and psychically interrogate him.
"Hmmm. Okay then, be that way" he said, with a smirk on his face. "Well now, what to do..."
First off, he definently should NOT do what the crazy terrorists told him to do. Unless, of course, they were looking for a challenge? No, but to fall right into their words was silly. That said, they might be watching him now, waiting to see what he would do...who he would contact.
Wait a second...they knew about the capture? That meant, they were watching the FBI, or those things, as well? Ooooh, you silly, silly terrorists....you made a mistake. You told me you were watching them as well, which means you have people there. Obviously they cant be wearing masks, which means...they could be identified! Sorry Commedia, but you made a fatal mistake.
Even if you planned it out, you dont know my full abilities, especially the ones I trained since I escaped. In other words, if I hunt the ones following the FBI, I can use that to find them. Well, I suppose before I do, I should take care of business here.
Of course, by business, Zilas meant stealing the harddrives, phone, and all other objects of note from the arms dealer. He would also get the paper records, and finally...he copied the fingerprints of both the arms dealer, and the headless man, using some common household supplies, such as tape and all that.
Naturally, he took some DNA samples as well. Now that he thought about it, wasn't there a program to recreate the face from DNA samples?
You want me to play your game, Commedia? Well, let me flip that around. Instead of investigating those two people the FBI caught, I will use the FBI and them as bait, and lure you out instead...you really should be more careful what you say...huh? Maybe that man didn't explode his own head, but they exploded it for him so he wouldn't talk anymore? Well, it might get a tad bit trickier if they thats true, but none the less, I can use the logs of the Arms merchant to learn what they have. It would suck if they had missiles I didn't know about and such. Well, I suppose I will have Clarke update me on what the FBI are doing, and use that information to move forward.
Incidentally, the reason Zilas knew the member was not a threat was because there was a good chance they had seen him teleport, and yet instead of slitting his throat immediately, did not do a thing. If Zilas had wanted to, he could have easily escaped that man, but he just kept on talking, so he decided to keep it going, let him think he had the upper hand, and get some information out of him.
And Zilas had a good theory that was worth testing out, so it worked out well.
The rain was coming down heavy on the airport landing strip. Wyntech employees rushed to do checks on the jets and other aircraft that were stationed there, getting some of them into hangars, partly out of fear of the recent events that had just occurred. As Alexis was ushered down the runway towards the main airport 'terminal', armed guards also seemed to be hurrying busily across the tarmac. Some seemed to be doing security checks, others seemed to be getting debriefed. Other men and women who had been brought in as part of the security team Miss Wyn had hired.
Then, coming from the terminal building, a group of guards and attendants could be seen walking in the direction of Alexis, and the other guards. A woman, wearing a red dress under a black trench coat (made for the rain), was being protected under a row of umbrellas carried by attendants. As she made her way around the runway, she greeted each of the guards personally, extending a firm handshake to each before they were given their orders and ran off to accomplish them.
Finally the group made their way to Alexis.
The woman in the dress, who's blonde hair was currently being worn down, approached Alexis, a dry, professional smile being worn on her face. "You must be Alexis I presume?" The woman said with a firm, yet neutral tone. "I'm Theresa Wyn, the reason you're out here freezing in the rain." Her face showed some sympathy as one of her attendants went to Alexis to hold an umbrella above her as well.
Theresa extended her hand to Alexis. "It's pleasure to meet you. Your reputation has preceded you, in good ways I assure you." She eyed up the woman in front of her, an almost surgical gaze hovering over each cybernetic piece that was a part of Alexis. "Seems like you've been in at least some good hands. Hopefully I'm not wrong about that." The look of sympathy was there again as Theresa locked eyes with Alexis. She wanted Alexis to know that in this world, if you had a problems with cybernetics, Theresa Wyn was the person to talk to. Period.
Then, coming from the terminal building, a group of guards and attendants could be seen walking in the direction of Alexis, and the other guards. A woman, wearing a red dress under a black trench coat (made for the rain), was being protected under a row of umbrellas carried by attendants. As she made her way around the runway, she greeted each of the guards personally, extending a firm handshake to each before they were given their orders and ran off to accomplish them.
Finally the group made their way to Alexis.
The woman in the dress, who's blonde hair was currently being worn down, approached Alexis, a dry, professional smile being worn on her face. "You must be Alexis I presume?" The woman said with a firm, yet neutral tone. "I'm Theresa Wyn, the reason you're out here freezing in the rain." Her face showed some sympathy as one of her attendants went to Alexis to hold an umbrella above her as well.
Theresa extended her hand to Alexis. "It's pleasure to meet you. Your reputation has preceded you, in good ways I assure you." She eyed up the woman in front of her, an almost surgical gaze hovering over each cybernetic piece that was a part of Alexis. "Seems like you've been in at least some good hands. Hopefully I'm not wrong about that." The look of sympathy was there again as Theresa locked eyes with Alexis. She wanted Alexis to know that in this world, if you had a problems with cybernetics, Theresa Wyn was the person to talk to. Period.
The cold rain didn't bother Alexis in the least she did live in Oregon after all... What did bug her was the waiting...
As Alexis watched Theresa Wyn walk up with her army of umbrella holders it was hard not to laugh as she got pictures in her head like out of those old movies where the witch would melt if even a drop of water hit her. But though a crooked smirk crossed her face for a moment she stayed silent and businesslike as Miss Wyn made her way though the other hired guns.
Alexis gave another smirk as the attendant placed the umbrella over her. She took the offered handshake returning it with a firm but quick one of her own. She listened to Miss Wyn and when she was done speaking Alexis turned to the attendant.
"You are not needed.." she said coldly to them before turning to Miss Wyn. "I'm sure you have done your homework on me... But I can assure you my cybernetics had the best and most trusted hands i know working on them... My own... as well as the best of the military engineers.. of which i'm sure you know I was one I assure you all my parts both cyber and flesh are at peak performance. So with all due respect Miss Wyn I don't need your sympathy. I'm here cause you have a job you need done...So please Miss Wyn how about we cut to the chase and you tell why I'm here."
As Alexis watched Theresa Wyn walk up with her army of umbrella holders it was hard not to laugh as she got pictures in her head like out of those old movies where the witch would melt if even a drop of water hit her. But though a crooked smirk crossed her face for a moment she stayed silent and businesslike as Miss Wyn made her way though the other hired guns.
Alexis gave another smirk as the attendant placed the umbrella over her. She took the offered handshake returning it with a firm but quick one of her own. She listened to Miss Wyn and when she was done speaking Alexis turned to the attendant.
"You are not needed.." she said coldly to them before turning to Miss Wyn. "I'm sure you have done your homework on me... But I can assure you my cybernetics had the best and most trusted hands i know working on them... My own... as well as the best of the military engineers.. of which i'm sure you know I was one I assure you all my parts both cyber and flesh are at peak performance. So with all due respect Miss Wyn I don't need your sympathy. I'm here cause you have a job you need done...So please Miss Wyn how about we cut to the chase and you tell why I'm here."
Theresa cocked an eyebrow, a little surprised by how forward Alexis was. Miss Wyn chuckled lightly to herself, a few of the attendants looking a little uncomfortable themselves. "Apparently I didn't learn everything about you." She smiled slyly as she nodded to some of the attendants. About half of them began to walk back towards the terminal to carry out other, more important tasks available to them. The rest of her 'entourage' (her security) remained.
"Let's get to business then Miss Graves. I've brought you in to act as protection for the press conference I'll be holding in a few hours. But with the terrorist attacks I'm assuming you have already learned about, this is going to get more complicated." Theresa sighed, her face taking a more serious, annoyed look.
"Firstly, you'll have to keep an eye on any protestors that might show up. People that don't like what our company does, or wants to do. I hope you understand I do not want you hurting them, as much as it is possible to avoid. Additionally, we'll need you to keep an eye out for any suspicious persons and activities." Theresa pulled out a datapad and showed the screen to Alexis, a blueprint being displayed on it, which she began to point to.
"The area directly around the stage, and the audience area, is where I'll want you to be stationed. It's going to mostly be reporters, politicians, and executives from other businesses, but we can't be certain a threat won't slip through. Once the conference is over, you'll be helping to escort Wyntech employees and myself out of the building, and dealing with crowd control."
Theresa looked Alexis in the eye once more, placing the datapad back in her coat. "Nobody could have predicted these terror attacks, and no one can predict the next one. So let me ask you here and now Miss Graves, because I hate last second changes; are you still up for this?"
"Let's get to business then Miss Graves. I've brought you in to act as protection for the press conference I'll be holding in a few hours. But with the terrorist attacks I'm assuming you have already learned about, this is going to get more complicated." Theresa sighed, her face taking a more serious, annoyed look.
"Firstly, you'll have to keep an eye on any protestors that might show up. People that don't like what our company does, or wants to do. I hope you understand I do not want you hurting them, as much as it is possible to avoid. Additionally, we'll need you to keep an eye out for any suspicious persons and activities." Theresa pulled out a datapad and showed the screen to Alexis, a blueprint being displayed on it, which she began to point to.
"The area directly around the stage, and the audience area, is where I'll want you to be stationed. It's going to mostly be reporters, politicians, and executives from other businesses, but we can't be certain a threat won't slip through. Once the conference is over, you'll be helping to escort Wyntech employees and myself out of the building, and dealing with crowd control."
Theresa looked Alexis in the eye once more, placing the datapad back in her coat. "Nobody could have predicted these terror attacks, and no one can predict the next one. So let me ask you here and now Miss Graves, because I hate last second changes; are you still up for this?"
Alexis studied the blueprint as Theresa spoke. She quickly found and memorized every exit and every possible angle of attack burning a mental Image of the blue prints into her brain. As Miss Wyn finished Alexis looked up and nodded "Seems simple enough... I'm in... though I have a few things. First off arms and armor will you provide these? I have a contact here in the city that already as an order ready for me but I know some companies have a strict uniform for their guards. Second I would like to meet the rest of the team."
Alexis paused for a moment. "As for the terrorists... I'm not sure if i buy the Jihad shit... it is almost a bad cliché... Maybe it is a bunch of Allah freaks...but my gut tells me it is just a front...But no need to worry come protesters, terrorist or damn aliens for that matter they won't get to you on my watch."
Alexis paused for a moment. "As for the terrorists... I'm not sure if i buy the Jihad shit... it is almost a bad cliché... Maybe it is a bunch of Allah freaks...but my gut tells me it is just a front...But no need to worry come protesters, terrorist or damn aliens for that matter they won't get to you on my watch."
There was a pleased smile on Theresa's face, glad she wouldn't have to scrape around last second to get a decent guard to fill in for Alexis. Last second changes always complicated things.
"Well Miss Graves, as professionals in your field, I trust each of you to understand your strengths and needs best. If you have weapons available, then by all means use them, but we can also provide weapons if you need, at no cost to yourself. As for armor and uniforms, that's optional. Since you're not a full employee of Wyntech, you're not expected to wear any Wyntech security uniforms. However, they are available to use should you desire. Right now, we are comfortable letting the world know that we have highly skilled in-house security services at our disposal, but that we're also willing to bring in new talent, some of the best in fact. Keeps us less... Predictable."
Theresa gave a sly smile at the end before answering the rest of Alexis's other request and thoughts. "You can meet the team as soon as you like. Each team acts seperately, and yours will focus primarily on the auditorium and escort. You'll be connected through com-links to several handlers that will act as your eyes and ears around the property, providing you intel as needed. You'll learn more about that soon. That said, you can either meet the team now, or in a few hours if that's best for you. On that note, we should make our way over to the terminal." Theresa turned and gave a subtle hand gesture, indicating for Alexis to follow.
As they made their way over to the terminal, Theresa couldn't help but chuckle slightly at Alexis's other remarks. "I see you have a bit of skepticism. A healthy dose mind you, good for keeping the mind sharp." She gave a grin and courteous nod to Alexis. "And I do appreciate your commitment as well. But I should be clear, when it comes to aliens, mutants, and monsters, the big bonuses go for live captures Miss Graves." Theresa said jokingly, but with the tiniest hint of seriousness.
"Well Miss Graves, as professionals in your field, I trust each of you to understand your strengths and needs best. If you have weapons available, then by all means use them, but we can also provide weapons if you need, at no cost to yourself. As for armor and uniforms, that's optional. Since you're not a full employee of Wyntech, you're not expected to wear any Wyntech security uniforms. However, they are available to use should you desire. Right now, we are comfortable letting the world know that we have highly skilled in-house security services at our disposal, but that we're also willing to bring in new talent, some of the best in fact. Keeps us less... Predictable."
Theresa gave a sly smile at the end before answering the rest of Alexis's other request and thoughts. "You can meet the team as soon as you like. Each team acts seperately, and yours will focus primarily on the auditorium and escort. You'll be connected through com-links to several handlers that will act as your eyes and ears around the property, providing you intel as needed. You'll learn more about that soon. That said, you can either meet the team now, or in a few hours if that's best for you. On that note, we should make our way over to the terminal." Theresa turned and gave a subtle hand gesture, indicating for Alexis to follow.
As they made their way over to the terminal, Theresa couldn't help but chuckle slightly at Alexis's other remarks. "I see you have a bit of skepticism. A healthy dose mind you, good for keeping the mind sharp." She gave a grin and courteous nod to Alexis. "And I do appreciate your commitment as well. But I should be clear, when it comes to aliens, mutants, and monsters, the big bonuses go for live captures Miss Graves." Theresa said jokingly, but with the tiniest hint of seriousness.
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