Revelation

Thoughts, rather inconsequential fragments of thought floated around in the ruffian's head while he awaited treatment. Eos wasn't much of a thinker these days and contented himself with zoning out most of the time to dull the pains of reality. Yet someone had to interrupt his 'me' time.

"You're going to kill yourself, this way... There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Extremely uncomfortable actually, as Eos found that he wanted her to continue. Not that he'd admit to any such thing. It was just...different...to have anyone actually even pretending like his life meant anything anymore. The feeling was almost foreign. He might have even gained a measure of respect for the little woman had she kept her trap shut. "What happens when you wake up worse than this and can't get here, Eos?"

It was his turn to be silent. Eos pulled back his hood with the undamaged arm regarded Pandora with a level stare. It wasn't the first time he'd allowed her to see his eyes unobstructed, but it was obvious his scrutiny unnerved her on some level. For what felt like a long while he just looked into her eyes with the cold, pallid gaze of someone who might as well have been dead for the lack of life they held. Her's, he noted, were dulled somewhat despite the sickeningly sweet air she practically exhumed. She did an admirable job of working without faltering this time. Finally, with a sardonic smile he spoke. "Dying is always an option Sweets."

Hopping off of the chair Eos flung down the sleeve of his injured arm and tested it out with a few rotations. It still stung where the flesh had been re-knitted, but that was remarkably more bearable than the pain that the infection had wrought. He noticed that Pandora was swooning and made a split second decision. With a sharp movement he slipped a small bundle down the front of her garments, probably copping a feel but not really paying it any heed. The tiny purse held a quite a few coppers and even a couple silvers. That'd help with food for a while, he thought. Not like I need it anyways.

Eos had just been about to leave when some...thingwalked through the clinic door. His jaw literally dropped in surprise and, not remembering to pull his hood up, the astounded man's face was plain for all to see. It'd been years since Eos had laid eyes on anything so wondrous. "Is that some sort of gas-mask? It doesn't look military grade...hmm. Anti-dust and night vision maybe?" Without realizing it Eos reached out and poked Etzel's 'beak'. "Whoa...erm." With that the man pulled up his hood and made a quick exit, bulling through the crowd to the safety of the shadows of Delta. The mask was still interesting though.

Silence and darkness were favorite traits in this situation. When stalking prey you did not want them to be aware of you if you wanted to be an efficient killer. People who killed for pleasure might say otherwise as they usually wanted suffering out of their victims. Nuadha did not want suffering out of his. He wanted silence and death, a pretty simple request when one put their mind to it. He had been trained in the ways of deaths for going on 10 years now behind a brilliant man named Amon. Amon had taken him in years ago and most of his remembered life was under his care and tutelage. He had learned to be a master of the art of death.

He had been given quite a few nicknames among the other assassins, most of which made fun of his small size and his young age. The few that knew his skills first hand made no jokes and held him in the utmost respect as one of the top members of the Guild. Amazingly, his face was not at all well known to the outside world. He suffered from a rare trait that caused his eyes to be different colors. Since eyes are one thing you cannot cover up (Particularly in the dark) he had learned to hunt with one eye covered. He changed it periodically so that anyone who did happen to see him might not recognized him. It was his one distinguishing mark.

In all actuality no one had ever seen him or witnessed him when on a mission.

On this night he had been targeting a small gang leader. For all he knew the man could have been fighting to liberate the poor underclass from the abusive hierarchy. That was not his business. People who got mixed up in the feelings of others lost their edge. Losing your edge meant death. Or at least it should, as was his belief. The alley he had used was covered with empty bottles and a few beaten and broken men, some of whom had been in a fight. Nuadha thought to himself that this was the life Amon had rescued him from and he was thankful for that. The man had gone quickly. A quickly slit throat, the collapse of the body, it was all one fluid motion that the assassin was used to by now. He drug the body into the alley were the other men were laying unconscious from what ever had taken them out. After that he made his way back out...

The thudding of the rain on the window woke him from his dreams. Again a dream of a job that had not happened. These came quite often now though he had no fears of losing his sanity. The dreams did not bother him nor did he question them. If the job happened in the future, he would easily know what rout to take seeing as how he had already seen it. Luckily no dream had ever turned into a real job or Nuadha might actually question his mind for once. He quickly hopped out of bed and put on his more welcoming persona. Tossing on his little apron he ran to his little corner store where he sold fruits and such grown in the corners of the city. He had made trips to the fields in the last few weeks and was well stocked so he would be ready if Amon called for him.

He had not been called to duty in awhile, as was usually the case before the dreams started showing up. Turns out most of the political unrest was swirling around what should be done with the mages and what should be done in order to keep them and the people from revolting. The Assassin's guild had been very careful with the mages in the past and it looked like Amon was planning on keeping the same philosophy. However Nuadha had not been promoted to Amon's secret council in any way so there was no way of knowing what the Guild Master was really planning.

He pushed the door to his tiny little shop (Sadly it would have had more space had it been just a cart on the street). The Guild had paid for this little cart and tacked him an ID in with the merchants guild in order to help him keep out of the eyes of interested folk that might realize his true identity. He dusted off the counter and went to unpacking fruits. While working on this simple task his mind wondered as it usually did while busy. He hopped Amon would visit soon, he missed him.

District Delta

Etzel made careful note of that man, who had enough courage or curiosity to walk up and touch his mask. Of course, he didn't really care, but it was very unusual for somebody to do so. He left, but the still man had already memorized his face, his posture, and walking tendencies. Subject to change.

"It's a bit late for your hormones to be running up and down your body, miss." The doctor replied, watching with interest as the acclaimed medicine woman of Delta was losing her composure. Didn't rape happen by the minute in Delta? He wasn't sure, he only came to Delta for the rats. He listened to her stutter incoherently before presenting him a rational response in the form of a question. Behind his mask, he smiled sardonically. "I'm here to observe. I came too late to fetch a few subjects for tests that I run. I decided to kill time by visiting this... clinic that's renowned in Delta. If you need help, feel free to ask- but my methods are not familiar to you. I am rather... unorthodox."

He showed her the small vials belted to his waist, containing the various pain-killers, antibiotics, and poisons. Of course, they were all more or less the same color, only a few of them differed in light shades of red, brown, and yellow. The rest were clear as water. All of theme were scentless. Some of them were even tasteless. "I can offer you medical equipment, medication, and my advice." He added,

He sat down at one end of the room, appearing impassive as ever. Underneath the mask, was a creeping grin. Because every District aside from Delta shunned the Magi, he never had a chance to observe metaphysical magic at work. Sitting back, he pulled out his nasty-looking syringe and started testing it, flicking at the needle to ensure it's stability and inspecting the angle to ensure it was completely straight.

---

The Nexus

Listening to David Gilgamesh was like watching an over-sentimental play. He was more interested in the pattern the polished wood his hands rested on than his honey-coated words, but he forced himself to listen in order to find some sort of weak argument or something to spread around Beta to incite degrading rumors. Of course, his speech was nothing more than a sugared hate speech against the Magi. It was amusing enough he had to fight to hold back a pained smile. After he was finished, the Queen finally stood and offered one last chance to speak before the bill was taken into consideration. This was his last chance to fight back. The last few months he had been fighting tooth and nail to stop those sheets of paper from even going up into consideration, this was his final opportunity- if only to delay it for a few more weeks. He tapped the desk, and he felt steely gazes bore into him.

He had long been desensitized to these stares. Standing, he bowed to the Queen. "Thank you, your Majesty." He said quietly. He took a breath, and let his emerald eyes sweep over the skeptic crowd.

"District Delta is in an almost irreparable state of disrepair. There is slime, dirt, and creatures that run rampant. The buildings are rickety and cramped. And yet, we condemn human beings such as ourselves to live in this area that is almost constantly shrouded in pollution. They are cursed to live lives that will yield no opportunity, no happiness. They work to the point where they collapse to make ends meet, and among these are Magi. It is said, that those who dwell on the past cannot move forward. It is true. If we continue to view the Magi as nothing more than savage beings that nearly destroyed our race, we as a whole will never take a step forward. In the past, it is true that they decided to try and beat the gods. Is this true now? How can you be so sure that then still think that? How do you know that they want to repent for their sins? Will you condemn innocent Magi to a live of dirt and rats because of something that happened a long time ago? If so, you are no worse than the Magi of old." He paused, his voice beginning to shake. He took a breath, fighting the urge to reveal his symptoms in a raging fit of wheezing.

Caelin was genuinely surprised at his current state. However, he continued. Now as not the time to show weakness. "The fact that more people live in Delta and Gamma rather than Beta, is humiliating. We speak of them not as individuals, but as tools that we throw away when they don't work anymore. They provide the blood that pumps through our way of life. We have so much opportunity in Delta- Gamma as well! How many genius' have we wasted having them work mindlessly in factories? How many chances have we destroyed in our bitter caste by forcing Magi to work in sub-human conditions when they could be providing us a source to study magic itself? I cannot stand for this." He turned to bore his calming green eyes into Gilgamesh.

"It is when a government that cannot serve the people, that our condemnation has arrived." He said. "I cannot partake in a Classist vote against the people if I can help it."

With that, he turned and exited the room. As the door closed behind him, he walked down the halls toward the exit. When he was sure he was well out of hearing range, he stopped by a window and started coughing violently. Pressing a hastily-drawn kerchief to his mouth, he gripped the railing for support as his body lashed at him. As he calmed, he folded and hid the bloodied kerchief from view. His hands trembled as they drew the flask containing his life-line to the political environment. Without it, he would have been exposed to Parliament about his illness long before. taking a gulp, he remained still until he felt the burning sensation fade away.

"It's left for fate to decide the outcome now. Pity I cannot be there to hear about it first-hand." He mused in a hoarse voice, continuing down the steps and outside.

Though Nuadha often worked hard, he usually got far to distracted to finish all he needed to do. This was normal and expect from a kid his age so most people didn't question it. They had no idea it was all a play just to keep a cover that was not entirely needed since most of them would have never known anyway. His days were usually not all to busy at the shop. He would call for deliveries, wait for them to arrive, set them up, then pretty much twiddle his thumbs as he waited for the few customers who would come in. Sometimes he would get really busy but most of the time he was not. His busy times mostly were around feasts or holidays. When he was doing nothing else he would fiddle with the chess board that set on his counter, often playing himself.

This day he had spent most of the morning gathering all of the deliveries that he had called in for. He was known in the Agricultural section for buying the strange fruits they had experimented with growing in environments that were not known for growing them. Today he had received a bunch of pineapples and coconuts. If they did not sell he would simply pack them up and send them down to Delta and hope that the people down there could use them. If they did sell he usually made a big profit since most other vendors would leave these kinds of foods alone causing the agricultural guys to sell them for really cheap.

He had just opened the first pack of them when the redhead walked in the shop. He had seen her in here before, her hair was a very distinguishing trait. She was a cute girl that had certain stance about her. She looked simply like she was going to burst into a dance at any moment. The scariest part is that at the same time she looked like she could kick your ass. However, Nuadha in his years had gained a bit of a way of reading people and when he read her she felt.. Familiar. That was the only way he could describe it. There was a lot about her that he wished to know. Of course She most likely didn't want to know anything about him.

"Mornin' Two-tone!" She said in a seemingly cheery state. Nuadha could only smile and raise his hand back to greet her. Sadly this was as close as he got to friends were the couple of people that came into the store and spoke to him in a friendly tone. He had never been close to people. It was not because he did not want to, it was because he never had a chance to. "Anything interesting today?" The girl had asked that question quite a few times before. Every time he had produced something that he thought was unique or interesting and half of the time she had, in almost disinterest, turned them down. Over the last few months of her coming in every week or so he had narrowed her tastes down to the wild side of things. He smiled and nodded holding up a pineapple.

"It depends, do you like Pineapples or Coconuts?" He asked cheerily as if he had finally hit the nail on the head and solved the puzzle of the girl.

This was not exactly how the day was supposed to turn out. He was supposed to go to the grocery and find everything he needed, but of course, that was not to be. They had no bread left, no fruit, and of course... no licorice. The one thing he needed most, and they were out. He'd been able to get some milk and cheese, and they even had a few doughnuts to choose from. But when he'd gotten those items home and looked through his empty cupboards and icebox, it was obvious this would not last him at all. It wasn't a decision Mars wanted to make. He found he was very good at avoiding situations he didn't like, but he also knew that with the way he was working, a second trip to the market would not happen for a few weeks. A heavy supply of licorice was a necessity.

And grudgingly so, Mars was heading toward the Beta district. He dreaded going into districts so close to his past. Of course, his family never traveled outside of Alpha, but one could never be too careful. Not to mention the fact that his beak caused a greater deal of commotion in Beta than in Gamma. But he would do all this quickly and be out in no time.

It was like walking through an alternate reality portal. The streets were a little cleaner, the clothing a little nicer, and the people a bit merrier. Though happy and smiling, one look at the hooded man with the rather obvious deformity jutting from the shadows over his face, created a stir of emotions and shock. Whispering was audible to Mars, but he ignored most of the comments. More than half of the passersby just thought him some odd street performer from Gamma, though only half of that thought was correct. If only they knew the things he could do! If only they would open their eyes and see the potential that Manatechnology could give a single person. It gave the scientist chills to know that his own work had created this beak. All these people were noticing his research and experiments. Mars wanted to yell out and begin lecturing on the power of Mana and what good the Magi could do if only they were...

He had to stop for a moment and recollect what exactly he was doing again. Oh yes, licorice. In order for him to continue searching for the why's and how's, he needed that licorice.

Finding a grocery he entered to see only two people. One an obvious worker, the other either loitering or a friend of said employee. Mars slid to the left and disappeared down an aisle, searching for bread. Removing a wiry hand from the pocket of his black long coat, he gripped a loaf and made his way down another aisle. Once he'd gathered what seemed like an ample amount of food, he made his way to the counter and set it down. Looking through the darkness his hood created, Mars looked the worker in the eyes (a habit his father had passed down) and spoke in a low voice.

"Do you have licorice?" The beak moved oddly, opening and closing like a puppet's would, but his speech was impeccable. It sounded as if he had normal human lips when all others could see was the massive yellowing proboscis on his face. But he had an air of intensity surrounding him. The scientist would seem threatening to any other person. In fact, the tension surrounding him was the need to get his candy and leave as quickly as possible. Being in Beta District was nerve wracking and kept his mind from flowing correctly.

District Alpha

A knock on the door alerted the tired noble sitting at his desk. Paperwork from his area stood at a small pile, infinitely smaller than those of other nobles. The small section of District Alpha assigned to him was constantly at work, complaints for the most tiresome reasons flowing in to assail the ill politician.

"Come in." Caelin said, reinforcing his voice to prevent any assumption he was ailing. The thick wooden doors swung open revealing a courier from the Nexus. Straightening his posture, he watched the courier bow before him and eye him pointedly. In his exhaustion, he forgot his manners. Coughing as if he were only testing the courier, Caelin nodded. "Yes.... Courier- your report?" He asked.

The courier bowed once more. "The result regarding the fate of the Magi has been made." He began, pausing for some dramatic effect. As Caelin looked on in slight disapproval, the man smiled and continued, "The decision was that the subject is to be pushed to a later date- tomorrow to be exact."

The nobleman sighed. It wasn't the best result he had hoped for, but it was good enough. After all, it wasn't like the man was going to die within the hours that separated today and tomorrow, right? "Very well. Is there anything else to add?"

The courier nodded. "The physician you requested for an annual check up was not present. The assistant said he was making a house-call." He said, his voice dropping slightly and moving rather quickly. Caelin suspected something with that statement, but paid it no mind. He quietly dismissed the man, leaning back at the paperwork before him.

"Another day, huh?" He mused, fiddling with his writing utensil. The pen tip dipped up and down as he pushed back on his chair. His work never ended. Straightening, he moved back to a sheet of paper. A rich merchant wanted his servant executed for spilling a tray containing his breakfast. Staring at the paper, he slowly crumpled it up and threw it away. He was not their mother. Such idiocy did not need attending to. No doubt he'd see another execution request after a while, but at this point and time he did not want to bother with it.

District Delta

As he inspected his utensils, he looked up through his tinted lens to see the woman seem to space out. After a moment, she seemed to come to, describing something he had never heard of. How did she get this information? Suddenly, he was extremely interested, taking note of whatever she spoke about. After finishing, the doctor leaned back where he sat in utter confusion. Something red. Something yellow. Something clear. The scent of strawberries or something similar. It would require time to crack this puzzle, but his mind was already working.

"Clear. Red. Yellow. The scent, perhaps is a byproduct... a result of a reactant? No... the scent should be muddled. Is it a result? It must be a compound found naturally. However, it is man-made. How can this be?" He muttered, tapping the chin of his mask. "The clear substance... is it a concentrate? Does it disguise the scent? Perhaps it might be a coloring. Dextrose. No. If it's natural, it must be found somewhere naturally. Hence the smell of fruit. Night Shade? No... too far. Doll's Eye? Too rare. There's no way."

As the doctor continued to ramble to himself, he holstered his syringe and began pacing about. What an odd situation. Etzel arrived to observe, and how he was here figuring out the poison that almost killed the naked man in the room. He wondered subconsciously if the rats were going to be active soon.

"I cannot say for sure, madam." He eventually replied. "The colors can be many things, and the amounts don't help very much. I'd assume the clear substance you speak of is a key reactant. I don't think that would be the poison, unless it is so concentrated it could spread throughout the body like it did to our poor friend. I'd assume it comes from the combination of the red and yellow items- the result a compound solution that can be found in nature... somehow."

He shook his head. "I can't deduce any more information from that vision. I do know, that this poison must have been found, or could have been found in nature due to the scent- which means citric acid is present. That would explain the nerve corrosion. It shouldn't be strong enough to corrode the nerves... or even paralyze him like that though. Hmmm... I'm lucky I came up with some basic solution else that acidity would have killed him. How could something be that acidic, yet able to spread like poison? The best I can think of is.. no.. the scent of that acid is too strong to be covered by citric acid." The doctor started rambling once more, completely oblivious to the situation as he sat back down- muttering to himself.

District Delta

"... Maybe if I did some therapy with him back at my office I'd squeeze something out of him.. yes.. I did have a nice electro-want ready that I've been wanting to use. No, maybe I can use that nerve-rattler compound- that'd be very fun." Etzel said softly to himself, smiling behind his mask. "I can't figure things out with such little information. If only I had a sample. Contaminated samples do not count, no.... I can't take any from that buffoon on the ground." His self-awareness was the only security system he had when he was in this kind of state. He looked up as the girl began to speak, telling him the patient he was supposed to diagnose was not due until later this week. He gave a quick bob of his head, deciding to put this investigation back until he had proper equipment to test his many theories. "Then I shall return later this week. I am a man of my word, lady- I will see this patient."

A cynical grin stretched under the mask. His word was worthless. The blood oath he had taken as a doctor many years ago had been broken, and he had lied to many patients- targets under the assignment of Amon. "There there. This will help you." He would say as he slowly tipped the untraceable potassium cyanide drink into the victims mouth. His word was just about as trusted as a vagabond's, if anybody knew his true identity.

He took out a few vials of medicine. "These are painkillers. One drop will numb a patient from pain, though he can't move properly." He said. He didn't mention that three drops will give the victim heart failure. "Please, if you are to use this, don't give anyone more than two drops." He said. "Consider this a gift for letting me observe, and to continue observing." He gave her a few disposable droppers as well. Turning on his heel, he left the warehouse, stretching his limbs. The people of Delta walked by, regarding the masked man strangely.

He pulled out a small blowgun, and loaded it with a knock-out serum filled dart. He looked around, eager to begin the rat hunt.

District Alpha

Execution request. Complaint. Execution request. Two more complaints. Did these racketeers have nothing better to do than to pester him? Caelin denied another execution request. Though he did read through each one just in case he didn't accidentally pardon a serial killer, this was becoming ridiculous. He sifted through another round of official wax-sealed papers containing more nonsense about raising taxes in Beta. They just couldn't have enough money.

It wasn't that they were being greedy. His district had suffered a recent downturn in economy. It wasn't severe in the slightest, but having to adjust to eating just a little less and saving just a little more was a big adjustment for people who were used to having loads of money in a stable balance of excess spending and excess income. He sighed. It was too much for them to fix to, and they would rather correct the problem by taxing the citizens than saving themselves and continuing their lifestyle.

He denied the attempt to bring the tax up once more, forcing himself to write an explanatory letter. He would be going against his own code if he refused something the collective body wants without good reason. So far, his citizens have taken well to reason and logic. When he finished, he sat back in his chair. The work was done.

A single knock. "Milord! A courier of the Princess has arrived." A servant said.

"Send him in."

The silent courier bowed low, and was acknowledged by the young noble before handing him a letter sealed by the royal family. As dictated, he immediately dismissed the courier. Any letter sent urgently from the royal family was to be read immediately and in private. He broke the seal and took out the short letter.

Needless to say, the princess was very direct. Refreshing, to be exact. He was tired of scanning through endless lines of text to find hidden meanings. The nobles beat around the bush so often, the end result was a leafless shrub a ghost of it's former self. He noted that the Marquis was coming as well, and smiled. It was ironic a man so much younger than he was knew more about what he fought for. He did not hold the Marquis in contempt, but sometimes his arguments were sorely lacking due and his lack of knowledge shone so bright, it nearly blinded the other nobles. Once again, he was exaggerating.

Extracting himself from the sea of words, he wrote back:

Milady Princess Loki Blackwood,

Salutations and the blessings of Elisia be on you.

I will attend.

-Caelin Taylor, Marquess of the Fourth Sector, President of Taylor Chemicals

He enveloped the letter in it's parchment casing and sealed it with wax. He handed it to the silent courier that waited outside, and without any more inclination, the courier left soundlessly. Caelin walked back inside and looked at his desk. He sat there, motionless at the pile of finished work before yawning and falling asleep right then and there.

Mars was sure this day couldn't get any worse. No licorice.

Paying for what foods he had, he followed the girl out the door. He certainly did not want to continue this hunt through the Beta District, but if she knew where a shop was that could sell him licorice, the scientist was certainly willing to go. Pulling his hood a bit farther over his face, he readjusted the bag under his arm and glanced at the young girl with his crystalline eyes. She was a fiery sort, seemed to have a wild attitude, and was certainly not from Beta originally. One couldn't forget that Mars was a scientist and he did a lot of observing, even of the human variety.

Knowing he shouldn't remain silent because of her obvious kindness, Mars thanked her.

"I appreciate you showing me to a shop. It may seem petty, but it helps me to think at very critical moments in my studies."

His studies.

Perhaps the equation dealing with the molecular level of the Mana inside his wand was off somewhere? But he'd gone over it so many times. And that would be like starting over! What kind of mad man would begin again after so much had been accomplished? Had he actually accomplished anything, though?

Yes! He was walking around in public with one of the greatest accomplishments his studies had produced! Marissa had even thought so... It was she that was making him continue on. Full transfiguration. And answers as to why it had reacted so badly when she...

"Where is this shop?" He sounded more irritated than he'd meant, but Mars just kept his eyes down. His thoughts had horrible ways of becoming catastrophic so quickly. It was safer in his basement where he could hide from those thoughts and from the people that brought them to the surface.

District Beta]

"Where? Well, this might seem odd but as I went down to Delta for a rat-hunt I visited a rather esteemed clinic there." Etzel said idly, unaware of Amon's troubled brooding. "The woman that ran the clinic had somebody run in and suddenly collapse on the floor." She asked me to treat him, and of course I did. Not just because he was in need of help, but it was odd for him to be in Delta- he wore clothes more befitting a resident of Beta or Alpha. He had a very dilute poison similar to your case, but the main differences would most likely be how slow it acted. I had enough time to stabilize him and form an antidote. The poison that brought the Marquis down must have been less viscous or the agents in the poison must have been stimulated. Either way, I had duties to attend to myself so I left him in the care of the woman that owns the clinic. Whether the victim of the poisoning is still alive or at the clinic is a mystery to me." He paused.

"Her name is Pandora Elling, owner in the southern district where the most accidents regarding industrial equipment occur. Incidentally, that is where the highest concentration of strong rats breed, providing excellent subjects for experiments. It's not like I'm allowed to work on humans themselves, no. I must settle for something plentiful. A pity the apes down at the laboratories don't breed quickly, otherwise I'd be buying subjects off them. Hmm. Maybe I could. Start my own little ape family and take some for experimentation... Yes... when the occasion is important... That would be excellent." He trailed off, completely forgetting Amon was there. He stood up, still idly tapping the syringe tip with his finger and moving over to the cage of snarling rats. They always bore witness to what happened to their brothers, and for some reason they just got even angrier and desperate. Which was good. Etzel needed subjects that would try and fight back at whatever foreign substance he gave them. Force feeding tablets was the worst.

He suddenly remembered that Amon was there. "Anyways," He offered "I have no other information to give you. I'm not sure whether those two incidents are related. Seeing as though the poison exhibits the same characteristics and symptoms, they have an extremely different span of time for the poison to take effect. Most of the suspected poisons I listed to you take effect almost immediately, while the toxin I treated had a much slower rate- to the point where I was able to counteract it while keeping the patient relatively stable."

He paused. "Will that be all?"

The Facility: Dungeon

To be honest, the young noble didn't have too much to do. He was always on top of his work, finishing it before it really piled up. This left him with much free time, hence the time to make frequent trips down to Delta and Gamma. He agreed to follow the Princess and her escort down to the facility to visit the suspect of Goldwater's assassination. There was a reason to this, because the case of Goldwater related directly to his party. The loss of the public face was certainly an event to be taken seriously.

However, the suspect didn't seem to match the description at all... at first. As he observed quietly, he took immediate note of the strong scent of alcohol. A drunkard usually didn't have the motor skills or awareness to slip past guards and other forms of security. The second thing he noticed was his reaction to Loki's behavior. This was certainly unlike the stereotypical drunkard. As he realized that the man figured out the person he was trying to reach, he fell back into an easy speech.

The third thing he took note of was what he said. "You look just like her" must have been referring to the Queen (if "you aren't the Queen" wasn't obvious enough). There was no way he would have saw the Queen unless he was crazy, or the Queen herself made forays into Delta or Gamma. There were other options, but they were so improbable that he put them to the back of his head. Then he heard names that he didn't recognize. This was alarming, because a noble was almost expected to know the identity of everybody within Alpha. Somebody who associated with royalty, yet remained unknown to public face. This was something to take note of.

The man's small speech gave much information, though he couldn't pin it down due to his lack of knowledge. Who was Amon? He had heard the name before, but information regarding this person was so shady that none of it could be depicted as fact. He was this "Amon"'s favorite dog. A worker? Perhaps an apprentice? Finally, his last words: Regarding the Princess's age. Old enough to know about what, exactly? There were many things hidden because of age- even in the relatively old ranges. Old enough to know who? Was it a hidden guild? One not put to publicity or general knowledge? Perhaps, Amon and this man Eos were connected in this group. After all, he used the pronoun "we".

Slowly, he thought about what he heard about Amon. Some said he was a shadow, that he was the leader of the Guild.

The Guild was a group of Assassins. The most powerful Guild. It was fairly well known, due to it's influence as the police force of Revelation.

Caelin's eyes lit up as he came to his conclusion. This man was quite possibly an agent for the Assassins. Perhaps not an assassin himself, but there were many branches an agent can fulfill. Information, Espionage, Sabotage. Those were jobs an anonymous civilian could easily employ better than a Assassin. He said nothing, as it would break the flow of information to the perceptive noble.

The Facility, Dungeon

Surprise was not feeling that graced Eos much anymore, but it was apparent on his face now. It quickly melted into an appraising smirk, and then suspicion. It wasn't every day that one got to rat out a secret organization and live to see the sun again without extensive torture...even then, it was never a sure thing. Eos leaned against the bars and allowed his arms to rest on the horizontal beam supporting them. His eyes grew slightly more lively, a spark returning to the man's weary visage. "So mommy hasn't gotten around to telling you yet."

With a wave of his hand, he adopted a storyteller's voice--if a tad mocking--and spoke as if regailing the past to a child. "I'm not sure how long ago it was when they first thought of the concept, but it isn't a recent thing for sure. Somewhere along the line of history when monarchy and parliament began to clash even more fiercely than they do now, one of the kings or queens secretly had the Guildmaster of their time create a seperate branch of the Guild, one that could circumvent those rules regarding the killings of nobles and their ilk." Eos sneered at the word 'noble', but kept going. "Around one hundred of the most promising children from around Revelation, be they from Alpha, Beta or even Delta, were abducted or bought. Since the slave-market...oh, well, in case you didn't know, your pampered-highness, the slave market has always been a booming industry. The slavers go unnoticed as long as they pay off the right people. Now where was I...oh yes!"

About a hundred of them, ages ten to sixteen I guess, taken to...somewhere. They never told us where we were, and knocked us out any time we were required to leave or reenter. It was a cold place...they trained us. Subjected us to daily tortures of the mind and body, required us to kill one another and even some of the full-fledged assassins to survive another day, until only the strongest two remained. From there the Guildmaster took over training." He absently flexed his hands, clenching them into fists. "Eventually they became a pair of killers whose skill was unparalleled bar that of the Guildmaster themself. These individuals were subject to the whims of only the current monarch and Guildmaster. Their main purpose was to dispose of rival politicians and those who might undermine the authority of the crown, and do it with flawless execution. Not a trace. It never even looked like murder...they might as well have disappeared." He paused, held up both hands and indicated the ebon disks inked upon them.

"We are called the Hands of Tartarus." Eos put his hands down and smiled ruefully. "Amon taught us everything we knew about the world. It wasn't an expansive education, but it was enough most of the time. There are two Hands: A Fist, and a Palm. Fists are the martial ability. We crsuh and kill in the most brutal, effective ways without causing the target to bleed and leave signs of struggle. Palms were much more subtle...the brains. They learned of seduction, subterfuge and poison. The only thing that all Hands have in common are their faces." He waved a hand before his own face and adopted a neutral expression. Dark skin, strong chin, stubble, dark eyes, slight scarring...in other words..."We look no different from the average civillian. Those stories of dashing assassins bedding hundreds of women and somehow going unnoticed are all rubbish. True assassins are those whose faces get lost in the crowd. People you'd never take a second glance at. Because of this fact, and our skill, we thought ourselves invincible...Amon never told us that our position was a temporary one."
---

The Throne Room, 5 Years Ago

Two figures, clad in gray, unremarkable clothing followed a man dressed in a much more sophisticated manner through the great double doors and into the throne room. Eos, smiled and winked at his the other Hand in attendance, Selene. The dark haired woman--also quite unremarkable, but not to his eyes--returned the smile and whispered to Eos.

"Any idea why we're here? We just got back from a mission...I'd like at least a few days off." Selene feigned a displeasured countenance to which Eos had to keep himself from smiling at.

"Maybe a formal thank you? The Queen never shows any grattitude. Not even when we quelled that rebellion in the mak-" A feminine voice rang out from somewhere up ahead, prompting both Hands of Tartarus to focus their attention of the dark-robed woman. Queen Minerva Blackwood. Eos thought he saw a girl's face pale and lovely, around his age, peering through a door at the back wall behind the throne. He smiled and returned his gaze to the Queen.

There was a long silence that passed then. Eos and Selene began to glance at one another quizzically, Queen Blackwood regarding them with sad eyes. Eos caught a subtle gesture Selene made with her left hand. Setup? She said in signalspeak. Eos furrowed his brow in confusion. There was no reason for the Queen to...then he noticed. The older woman's eyes kept darting towards the banisters up high and the columns lining each side of the room. Without any concious thought his left leg slide back a few inches. How had they not noticed the absence of guards until now? Even the escort had left. One question came to mind, which Selene gave voice to.

"Where is Master Amon? He always accompanies our excursions...why not this time?" Her voice was steady but Eos could see her hand ready to snatch at the wand hidden in her dress.

The Queen could only meet their eyes for so long before averting her gaze. "You are both here because you are traitors to the aristocracy of Revelation, and the substantial and irrufutable evidence of murder." The words hit them as solidly as a blow to the chest. It didn't take long to sink in. "You, Eos and Selene Gregory, are hereby sentenced to death." As if on cue the rails high above them grew alive with the movement of dozens of armored men wielding crossbows trained on the pair of assassins.

Selene had already drawn her wand and Eos was halfway through clearing the gap between himself and the Queen when the guards had to refocus on the bounding pugilist. Before Eos could grab onto her though, Amon Gregory stepped out from behind the grand throne and fixed him with a stare that stopped the young man dead in his tracks. "You knew." It was not a question. The Guildmaster nodded, his face unreadable. "Why?"

"Necessity." Amon took a step forward, Eos taking a step back. He was facing the one man in this world that he truly feared. "Five years. That is the time before a pair of Hand must be replaced with a new set." Another step forward, another step back. "You learn too much on your missions. You obtain something that could never be removed from you, no matter how much torture, how rigorous the training or how inhumane the practices you went through; Free will. The power to make your own decisions, form your own opinions. Like how yous, Eos, refused to kill children even upon direct order?" The Guildmaster's gaze fell upon Selene. "You think I was oblivious to how much attention you paid to the ins and outs of this political dance? How you always made sure to accidentally damage a document here or there to cover up for some noble or another you realized had even more power than those you targetted?"

Eos didn't understand, but couldn't take his eyes off of Amon to see Selene's reaction. He responded for her in an uneven voice. "So I don't like high-pitched screaming...who does?"

Amon smiled at the poor attempt at humor for a brief moment. "The fact of the matter stands. You both will die here today, the secrets of Tartarus going with you to the grave." The Guildmaster was upon Eos before he could even blink.
---

Present Day

"...there was a big fight. Selene kept us alive for a while using some shielding wands...experimental I think. I remember holding her, looking for some way out. She was bleeding so much." Eos had pained expression on his face and his eyes threatened to spill tears. "A voice called out through all the shouting though. It said 'The window'. So I crashed through it, and somehow made it to the ground without dying. I always thought it was the Queen, it had the noble lilt to it. Probably a guard though, who was warning her fellows to take precautionary measures against such a thing."

He sighed, slumped against the bars and looked at Loki. No longer did an estranged ruffian regard her, but a keen intelligence under a rough shell. "We made it as far as District Delta before...before Selene succumbed to her wounds. Don't know how she did it, but Amon couldn't track us. I guess it was a spell from one of her more recent wands." He shrugged as if the thought was a passing fancy. Eos backed away, drawing himself up to his full height and crossed his arms. "My freedom?"

Stars clouded Eos's vision and the man reeled back, almost falling from his chair in the process. Almost immediately afterward a barrage of questions erupted from Pan's mouth at an alarming rate. Slow the hell down! Human's can't think that fast! He would've given his thought voice, but Eos was too busy rubbing his jaw. He observed how the newly awakened Pandora took in the cleaned room and smiled. Her mention of some sort of recompense was slightly offputting though. Eos continued to rub his stubbly chin in a more thoughtful manner for a short while mulling over the offer. There was only really two things he wanted;

"Alright, i'll hold you to it. I'd like either the ability to walk through walls, or alot of sex." Eos stared at Pandora and gently pushed her back down onto the bed to pull up the covers, his expectant expression leaving her to fill the silent void created by his silence, completely serious. Of course, he grinned and snickered. "Only joking short-stuff. Not that you aren't my type, but i'm more of a wine and dine sort of fellow. Although..." He allowed his gaze to rove Pandora's form, concealed only by the thin woolen blanket. "You are already naked and in bed. Half the work's done for me already!"

Before any forthcoming rebuke could be delivered the Hand arose from his seat and backed away a couple paces before stretching and rubbing his bare shoulders. "You were sweating yesterday, and I'm no doctor, but being in dirty, wet fabrics don't help people get over sickness." He nodded towards the foot of the bed where a few summer dresses and several pairs of...undergarments, lay. All brand new. "I wasn't exactly sure what size you were, so I bought a few I thought'd fit. The undies...erm...were awkward to place in front of the shopkeeper." The only thing Eos had taken the time to procure with his acquired money was a new shirt and some rough linen pants, the latter of which he was wearing.

A sudden movement off to his left sent Eos spinning into a defensive crouch--which gave way to a dubious look. The other sleeper, Pan's patient, was awakening. He wasn't sure what ailed the boy and quite frankly didn't care. He had been asleep for at least as long as Pandora, if not longer and must have been thirsty as well. Eos walked off towards his pack and withdrew a flask of fruit juice, handing it to Icarus. "Not the most eloquent fellow, are you?"

Suddenly Eos returned to pull back his chair to keep both of the wakeful sickly ones in view. "So, who wants to hear a joke about my penis?" With no response forthcoming, he said: "Eh, I don't blame ya. it's too long anyway." And he broke into uproarious laughter.

Without any sort of shoe or boot to cover his feet, the impact that followed would have pained most men to the point of immobility. Technique was key in his training however, and Eos rolled on the ball of his foot to redirect the flow of force and shifted into a stance in which he stood solely on his leading leg with both arms held parallel with the floor. Two hunks of velvety fabric and splintered wood lay on either side of the instegator of the conflict, what remained of Amon's seat. So many things were running through the young man's head that it was hard to tell that there was any sort of coherant thought at all...but Amon's words gave him focus.

"Come now, Eos, surely you see the futility of this?" Eos fell in to a crouch and sprung at Amon with hands bared in claws. The jump fell short by design, and the Hand slapped both palms against the floor, shifting his weight to bring both legs around in a series of spinning kicks. The Guildmaster hopped backward before the attacks even got close, but Eos was not deterred. With fluid grace that felt as if it had never left him, Eos slid back to his feet and launched a flurry of striking palms and bone-breaking elbows that should have laid any man low ten times over. And despite Amon not being just any man, nor was Eos just any street urchin.

Amon's form was flawless, both legs braced perfectly as his upper body worked in a blur to block, disrupt and redirect the rain of blows that fell upon him. One after another Eos's strikes were rendered useless or simply flung wide, and he struggled to keep up the Guildmaster's speed. That was the one thing Amon had always had over Eos in terms of physical ability. It didn't matter how strong his attacks were, how precise or solid, they meant nothing if the opponent could react appropriately. As the rage built with every foiled attack Eos grew less and less wary, his eyes scanning Amon's defense frantically searching for some chink in the armor.

It was a shock when the room spun from floor to ceiling and back again. Amon cluthed his former student's hand and leaned to the side, allowing Eos's own momentum to flip him over the makeshift fulcrum and slam the younger fighter into the ground with a loud smack. Eos was face-down on the floor in a hunched over position with Amon holding his arm behind him in an iron vice. He tried to push up, but Amon jerked the captured limb, threatening to break it at the shoulder. That might have mattered if Eos valued his life a little more. The man surged up with every once of strength he could muster, threatening to topple Amon as his arm began to snap when Eos felt the Guildmaster's other hand press against the base of his skull. Now, Eos paused. With one quick thrust Amon could have him on the ground again unconcious, or maybe even damage his brain with the jab.

From behind, Eos heard Amon's voice, still smooth and silibant. Those listening intently may have heard the level tone quaver for a moment. "Are you quite done?"

Gritting his teeth, Eos realized for the first time since seeing Amon again that there were others in the room. Unable to move his head the loser was forced to speak aloud. "Quite."

The hands binding him slowly withdrew, leaving Eos to rub the slightly stretched muscles in his shoulder. He turned to meet Amon face to face. A smirk found it's way to his lips as he saw the Guildmaster favoring his right hand, the one he had placed upon Eos's neck. Something was probably broken, he thought triumphantly, when Amon was parrying. Without another word or even a second glance Eos made his way back around the table to stand in the vacated spot between Pandora and Icarus. His eyes shifted from Amon to Loki, finally choosing to rest on the later. No apology for the disruption was offered.

His breath was no longer a feverish panting, and Eos was fairly calm now. He had wounded Amon. When this meeting was over, he would have an advantage when he next attacked. The fact that Amon was ambidexterous slipped Eos's mind.

Conversation...Eos zoned out almost as soon as it began. Words had never been his forte. That's what Selene had been around for. Besides, he was well aware of the fact that he was only attending this meeting at all by the good graces of the snobbish little boor of a woman who fancied black so much. It was a small miracle that he had not been removed--in a forcible manner no doubt--on account of the earlier outburst. For the moment Eos stood though, impassive and uncaring of the words being exchanged. No matter how much he tried not to his gaze kept drifting back to Amon. After a while he resolved to just attack the Guildmaster as soon as the meeting came to a close.

Surprisingly that time arrived at a much more expedient pace than expected, Amon standing to dismiss those gathered. Eos tensed to spring, silently edging backwards as not to harm Pandora or Icarus in his mad dash. A mental groan echoed off the spacious walls of Eos's mind when some drama-queen thug burst through the door trying to staunch a grievous wound. Why must vengeance elude those who seek it so? he thought with a scowl. Over the next several moments the room made a choppy transition from civil to savage. Eos observed with his arms crossed even as the first assailant broke the line, only to die by the blade of some pimp-wannabe of a noble. Pan's request for aid broke his objective inspection of the brawl and drew his attention.

Ignoring the fact that he had not been addressed, Eos grasped the collar of Pan's newest patient and dragged him to the far end of the table where he would not be immediately noticed. He looked to Pandora herself, and then to Icarus and grimaced. It would have been nice to have some sort of equipment to hand them but it had been years since Eos had anything besides his hands and... "Oh." grabbing the nearest chair, the Hand snapped off all four legs with a few quick jerks. He handed one makeshift club to Icarus and Pan respectively. "Go for the groin. Body-blows are useless and most people expect a hit to the head. Make em wish they'd been born women."

A grin flashed across his face then as Eos flipped onto the table with an eye-catching flourish and rushed towards the melee. He vaulted off and up into the air, landing in the midst of three of the men who had dared to attack nobility. One had exercised the good sense to look up and scored a shallow gash across Eos's shoulder before being forced to engage in close range. Without bothering to right himself immediately Eos used the momentum from the drop to swing his leg around in a wide arc that swept the legs out from under all three men. The first to go down was the first to die when Eos jabbed the jagged end of one of his chair-legs into the man's throat. The second was brained with a similar instrument, and the third recognized the danger in time to lunge at their attacker with a hastily drawn knife.

Eos came around in a crouch to knock the arm away and jumped forward to grapple with the rogue. Amid the tumble of punches and cuts, a muffled crack could be heard and the rogue ceased struggling. His head was cradled to Eos's breast between two arms of corded muscle. Eos dropped the dead man and began running in Loki's direction. He slowed down when he witnessed the pampered dark princess down an opponent of her own and--Shit. "Pan! Kid!" he called back from the doorway, "Screw the wounded! We're leaving!"

He turned to Loki and sucker-punched a combatant that was intent on having the heir's throat slit. Eos watched him go down in a coughing heap and lifted his leg high to bring it down in a rib-cracking heel drop. It felt so much better when it connected with something...then he realized he had something to say. Walking past Loki, Eos fell into a wide stance awaiting the next wave. "Color me impressed, Nite. When did you blue-bloods start picking up swords instead of hiring 'em?" Two more foes came on then, and Eos managed to flip one onto his back before being driven back towards Loki by the second. Without the benefit of a weapon to parry with the pugilist was forced to go on the offensive or dodge. With a smirk, a duck and a quick breath Eos realized how out of shape he was...it had been too long since anything that required a measure of skill had tested his mettle. It was fun!

Sweat rolled off of dark skin in little droplets and air came in burning, deep breaths. His hands ached and those cuts he had sustained slowly trickled fluid onto his new clothes, staining them a red that appeared almost black on the fabric. Eos smirked at his unexpected left Hand for the day. "You're somethin' else. The last princess I met..." the sentence ended abruptly as the next round of fodder stepped into the killing field. Honestly, that was what it was, as the area within ten or so feet of the princess and the pugilist was littered with so many corpses it was hard to see the tile.

Without any concious effort the Hand slid low and curved around Loki as she did the same. Their positions reversed, Eos roared in challenge at his surprised--but not quite stunned--new foes. The nearest, wielding bladed steel gloves met Eos with a fighting style similar to his own. That is, if the definition of similar was 'horribly inferior in every possible aspect'. It was almost as if the enemy fist-fighter was moving in slow motion as Eos' hand shot straight out like a striking viper to sink three fingers into the man's eye-socket. Metal claws managed to scrape feebly against their target's chest before going limp, but Eos was already orienting on the skinnier man who was hovering just out of reach for some reason-

"Duck." Eos dropped onto all fours just as the steel whistled past. Before the displaced air even made contact with his skin the ex-assassin launched into the air in a backwards flip. The maneuver sent him above the swordswoman who he had not even notice as of now and in landing, the perfect position to grasp her head and wrench it violently to the side. Both hands rose into flat blades as Eos and the last of his targets stared one another down. "Quack."

Despite the hilarious response he had offered, Eos cursed loudly. The ruddy-skinned asassin had used his allies distraction to not one, but two load a hand-crossbow and already aimed down the first's sights at Loki. Before he could vocalize a warning the triggers were pulled. Knowing he could not save the princess from a grievous, most likely fatal wound without putting himself at risk the Hand fell back into his normal ways of thinking. Screw her. She was still nobility, and as a result, not much better than the common murderer, rapist or thief. He allowed the bolt to fly at the sable princess' chest.

At least, that's what he thought he did. Eos frowned in puzzlement has he stood in an odd position. His right arm was extended, clutching a bolt dripping poison as his right leg was bent at the knee to provide extra reach. The second projectile was lodged inside Eos's midsection. The marksman's eyes widened in utter disbelief--almost as much as Eos--and the man dropped both ranged weapons to fumble at the mace on his belt. Too late, Eos was on top of him stabbing at the man's eyes and throat repeatedly with the pilfered bolt. When the deed was done Eos tossed the improptu weapon aside and sat on the man's chest for a long moment as if considering.

An instant later he swayed uncertainly and fell to the ground. His vision swam and grew gray around the edges. His tongue felt swollen and Eos swore he could hear the blood in his veins slowing with each pulse. He weakly turned to regard Loki from the floor. "Mmf..."

That was supposed to be a sarcastic You're welcome., but the realm of wakefulness eluded Eos once more. The room fell away in fragments and the Hand blacked out from a combination of venom and having a kidney ruptured.

Etzel noted disinterestedly that the girl had some sort of connection with the anthrax-riddled man. He accepted the switch, smoothly moving over to Taylor. He inspected the man, noting that most of the bigger problems have been fixed by the mage. Of course, she was in fairly bad shape afterward, but the healing was amazing- no trace of trauma where it was healed. The nobleman still needed help, and the doctor noticed all the layers of clothing that were cut away to reveal his very, very pallid body. "Next time I would prefer it if our meeting was held in a much more secure place." He muttered to himself. This man was relatively easy to deal with, though he did look over and observe the power transfer radiate from Pandora herself.

It was rather amazing. When she had finished, though she looked pretty bad herself she had cured Eos (supposedly) of Anthrax and thus avoiding the regurgitation of blood and passing of aqueous feces substances. He looked him over once, and believed that he was in slightly better shape. He bandaged up Taylor's wounds, cleaning them and even considered sticking a lollipop in his hand. He wasn't stupid, Pandora failed to mention that the nobleman was extremely sick, but due to the hippocratic oath, he wasn't going to divulge this secret to anyone.

HAHAHAHAHA. Yeah right.

"It's amazing how long he's been living with this." The doctor commented instead, not spilling it outright. Some part of him wanted to maintain what little shred of the oath he still kept- secrecy. He then moved over to Eos, wiping away excess grime and disinfecting the wound as best he could. He then applied a thick salve to the wounds, his own little touch. It wasn't as though he didn't think Pandora didn't try her hardest, but with the amount of strain she went through he was just making sure all of the Anthrax would be suppressed and dulled for Eos' natural defenses to pass it from his system.

When the princess asked their condition, he shrugged. "Our little ragged friend is going to be very well." He began, looking at Taylor. This would be a perfect time to divulge the nobleman's biggest secret. However, he didn't think it would be very fun revealing it while he was unconscious. "The nobleman will be fine too. Minor wounds- the idiot just let them bleed for too long. He moved over to the dead assassins, inspecting their bodies for signs of life. He found that one was still barely alive. Not taking the chance that he may divulge something with his dying breath, he quickly stomped on his neck.

After the assassination attempt, the group split apart once more, but as they had anticipated, the days that followed were nothing like the ones before. Each of them was a target now, of forces that even I could not at the time identify with anything more than nebulous speculation. There was loose contact between them in the year that followed, though they did not gather in one place again, not perhaps wishing to present such an obvious opportunity to those that would rather they were dead.

Even alone, each would deal with at least two assassination attempts in the year that followed, and it would force more than one into hiding. Even as this continued, though, greater things were stirring within the city. The middle of the year would see the Princess assume the late Marquis’s seat in Parliament, much to the irritation of David Gilgamesh. In showing her hand, she had made him a very public enemy, and their hotly-contested disputes would become a fixture in Parliamentary meetings.

Even as the two largest sides of a government conflict remained at loggerheads, a movement that had only begun to stir with Goldwater’s contracted death would begin the steady rise to a boil. Without the funding provided by its most proficient thief, the Liberation Movement had to find alternative methods of acquiring supplies, and it seemed as though each one of these was more public than the last. It was a week shy of the anniversary of the attack on the palace when the Revolution began in earnest, precipitated by what was perhaps the single most formative event in the history of the city: the moment Dr. Prometheus Vanderbilt discovered The Cure.

-From the Journals of Amon Gregory