Cadriel's Story

It was morning in the The Citadel, and whilst a good number of the inhabitants were just getting up to start the day, at least one had already been up for hours.

Cadriel, the janitor, sunk her mop into the murky water of the metal bucket, listlessly withdrew the thing, and let it flop down onto the scuffed and boot-printed floor before starting to mop it up. If she was lucky she might be able to get it all cleaned up before a bunch of knights thundered through and ruined it again.

That was how things generally turned out.

Caddie hunched over the cleaning apparatus, her bandages hands often struggling a little for purchase on the thing, and the bandages in her feet soaking in water in a way that looked most uncomfortable.

Well, most of the experiment looked most uncomfortable. From where she stood under the florescent lights she looked like a kind of grisly, poorly assembled jigsaw, with parts not quite fitting. All the badly applied sutures, and the jagged scars, there was something distinctly horror-like about the janitor. Of course, people had long had plenty of time to become accustomed to the sight of experimentation. To the point that for the most part people barely noticed her presence...until something was wrong of course. When the bin by the coffee maker had not been emptied then getting called 'Bride of Chucky' was completely fair game.

The announcement that rattled out over the whole citadel elicited little more than some weary eye-roll from Cadriel, followed by some muttered curse on the name that arose.
Avalon.

Balls meant nothing to her in any meaningful way. Caddie was way way too low down the pecking order to have anything to do with them. She wasn't even presentable enough to staff for the most part.

Who it was for though, did. Avalon. The man who had, not long ago, shot her four times and left her in a trash bag. The fact tht that sadist was being promoted said for all that she'd come to feel about Erubesco. That the floors were not the only thing that was dirty.

The alarm rang. Ed woke up in his bunk down in the barracks where they kept the serfs. Serfs had to stay within the citadel limits for security reasons. Given their station few people trusted them and even fewer liked them. He wouldn't disagree on that though quite frankly he didn't really care what others thought about him. Better they hate him than like him, at least that's how he felt.

He got out of bed and made his way over to the changing rooms. Inside one of the lockers was his new uniform: a janitors outfit. Ever since they had arrived at the citadel they were delegated the least desirable tasks which they were to perform during their stay. In little more than a few weeks he and the rest of the crew he was assigned to were to be sent out to the front lines as ground troops aka cannon fodder. For now however their work was to carry unimportant things like furniture and clean the floors.


Their wing of the barrack's speakers sputtered to life, relaying commands to them from their task master.
"Bunks A to J proceed down to loading bays three through seven. Bunks K to Z proceed over to third floor, west wing. You all know your duties now go."

Just the same as yesterday. With all that he needed Ed began on his way out of the barracks and into the main body of the citadel itself along with everyone else in his bunk aisle. As they arrived in front of the storage there waited the chief janitor. They lined up as they were handed their mobs, buckets and miscellaneous supplies before being told their destination. They already knew the general list of tasks set for janitorial service. Ed received his gear and was sent off to the region of the citadel he was assigned to.


So there he was, mopping the floor down the hallway. Scrubbing the boot stains and other debris was a nuisance but it still beat rotting in jail. Quite frankly as most people who passed paid him little heed there was not a lot he could complain about. This work offered him time alone which he treasured like the nobles treasured their gold. Being alone meant that there were less opportunities for her to seize. Id was always watching, looking to set up his downfall so she could watch him stumble.

As he was minding his business he turned a corner and noticed another janitor was already working his area. Now this was confusing. He was about to ask as to why she was working where he was assigned but upon getting a good look at her he was caught a bit off guard. Not only had he never seen this janitor before but her appearance was most unusual for anyone outside of a hospital. Bandages from neck to toe stained with medical fluids and stitches running down along her face all sold the image of someone who was clumsily reassembled. Ed had seen some wounds back when he was still part of the infantry and she seemed to encompass all of them plus some.


If she was looking at him back she would of caught him just standing there staring with the one eye he still had. He really couldn't throw stones given the fact his left eye was sewn shut so people would stop staring into the empty socket all the time. Still, her appearance greatly contrasted with the types of people that frequented the citadel. An entire facility full of vain aristocrats and muscular warriors all preening themselves in a constant struggle to appeal to each other in some strange vain social ritual. The ugly were the exception here.

It could also be said that Ed hadn't spent much too long in the citadel itself. Most of his career was spent out at other forts, even during training. Catching himself staring he turned his eye down, looking away before he made this run in even more awkward than it already was. She was pretty much in the middle of the route he was assigned to take care of so something needed to be said.

"Um... Are you working this stretch?"

He didn't want to be rude just in case she had wondered in from the medical ward. Last thing he'd need is to piss off her doctor given his caste.

Whilst Cadriel mopped, she considered the events of recent days. Shot, saved, memory resorted, finding herself helping one of the Commanders she resented ore than just about anyone else, and agreeing to potential....well at this point she was not even sure what she'd agreed to. Perhaps Botrelle had gotten over whatever she'd been writing that night, or perhaps not. She'd not had a lot of contact recently. She also thought back to her talk with Acolyte Kolert, who had been wholly unconvinced about the nature f how Caddie had some to her position. Whilst she felt a bit bitter about it, the experiment guessed that she could not really blame Piper. Would her previous incarnation have ever believed that Erubesco would screw over one of their own in such a way? Probably not. Factions did tend to instil in you a sense of trust in authority. Despite everything she did rather miss that trust. Missed feeling safe within the walls of the Citadel. Still, false security was no security at all. Least now she was ready for the horrible stuff that ight happen and the unpleasantness came as less of a shock.

The cleaner was pulled out of her reverie by the sight of someone standing watching her, custodial staff most certainly. She didn't exactly like how long her was taking to look her over. Being most unnoticed did at least have the perk that Caddie felt like less of a freak. He was questioning what she was doing there, and, in the less than stellar mood she was already in, prompted a weary reply.

"No I'm taking my pet mop for a walk." Caddie responded with the deadpan sarcasm of somebody who really had no interest in whatever the disagreement was.
"I've been responsible for the offices, teleportation port, and the research block for six months. "

In order to demonstrate the experiment reached a bandaged hand under the neck of her top and withdrew a lanyard with her newly-replaced ID tag, marked with 'CLEARANCE LEVEL 8' in bright red script, something that allowed her down to the darkest depths of the research levels.

"And I've already been working through that for the best part of two hours now, so if you think you're supposed to be here, you're either mistaken or misdirected. My schedule has not changed in six months and I could draw these corridors while blindfolded at this point."

Al heard her retort out. He smirked a little at her sarcastic quip but unfortunately as much as he'd prefer to trade witticisms with the patchwork woman he was sure to hear of it if he didn't get finished. Before he could move past her she produced her ID tag. He leaned forward to get a better look on the lettering of the card.

"Hmm... Cadriel... Clearance level eight."

So, Cadriel was her name then. She had a far higher clearance than his measly clearance level three that much was made certain. An already interesting figure made all the more enigmatic the more he knew. Who on earth does she report to despite being a janitor just like him? What possible level of injury must she of sustained to warrant those bandages? Those questions and more were being asked in his head. Not that he expected a reply to any one of them, they were just thoughts after all.
The only person looking in on those right now would never be so kind as to inform him in any beneficial way.


He was stirred from his slight bout of introspection as Cadriel continued, dismissing him as either mistaken or mislead.
"Fine. A simple yes would of sufficed." He didn't sound particularly happy but then again he never did. Turning around he started on his way back. Of course Id wasn't going to let it be that easy. She'd been pretty bored these last few weeks and at this point was willing to pull a petty prank just to get a cheap chuckle at her brother's expense. It was nothing quite as lovely as some of her previous plans but she had some hope it would tide her over until a truly juicy opportunity presented itself.

As Ed was walking he was no longer aware of what his right hand was doing. The bucket of water he was carrying started to tip until it was pouring water as he walked. All the work he had done was undone by his own hand. He eventually noticed something was off when he reached the entrance to the elevator when he noticed his bucket was significantly lighter. As he looked down, curious as to what was different, he noticed what he had done. His expression turned to one of surprise before settling into a frown of depression as he realized he'd have to clean the entire stretch of the hall again. Putting a palm to his face he groaned, slowly but definitely getting back onto the task he just did.

Skip wasn't sure where he would find everyone, but he had a few ideas of where he might find one person, assuming Caddie's cleaning rotations hadn't changed since he left. Into an elevator he jumped, tapping the button of the suspect floor, and subsequently tapping his foot on the elevator's floor as he waited.

The door slid open and Skip sped out, stopping inches away from some dark haired fellow with a mop bucket. He nearly slid straight into the guy thanks to the mess of puddles on the floor. As it was, if the guy knew who Skip was, he would almost certainly find the distance uncomfortable. And...granted...even if he didn't know who Skip was, having one's face licking distance from a stranger's isn't traditionally considered comfortable.

But Skip didn't mind making people feel uncomfortable.

"Oh. Hi," he said cheerfully. "You spilled, there. I can help you with that if you want. But maybe could you also tell me, are you familiar with a certain Creepsy? Telekinetic? You might be more familiar with, specifically, Nice Creepsy or Bad Creepsy, but I'm hoping she's still the in-between one." He put his hand to his shoulder-height. "She's about that big? Kinda looks like one of those sad claymation dolls except one that also got hit with a truck in a needle-and-thread storm and is also wearing bandage socks?"

Ed was busy toiling away on the sodden floors which he was directly responsible for as far as he and pretty everyone else knew, so busy in fact that he did not have the opportunity to notice the man speeding out from the elevator towards him. He hadn't raised his head to see some lanky guy quickly slipping and sliding towards him until the man was nearly in his face.

Just as the stranger caught himself in time to not crash in to him Ed backed up a step, looking rather cross due to this guy coming well within his comfort zone. Ed's comfort zone was pretty large as talking to pretty much anyone made him uncomfortable but in this case his discomfort was compounded with the proximity of this new guy.


"Hey, watch it." He warned just before the man started to ramble on about something. It started as something about helping then he moved on to something about a Creepsy, whatever that was, that was telekinetic or maybe a bad or good something or whatever. All Ed could really discern was that this guy was asking about somebody. He just looked at him with an expression of confusion as he tried to make sense of what this guy was going on about.

"So you want to find a who? I mean what? I-err, what do you mean? Telekinetic? What?"

He struggled to make sense of what he meant until the man started describing the person he was talking about with better details than 'Bad-creepsy' and 'Nice-creepsy'. He still wasn't very clear but at least he could make a little sense of what this guy wanted.

"Alright I'm just going to take a shot in the dark and assume you mean... Cadriel?"


It wasn't much of an answer but it was the best assumption he could make given the terrible description. He gave a short shrug, looking down the hall where he had come back from.

"She's still working this floor. Don't know if she's supposed to be on this floor for the next few weeks but her clearance is higher than mine so I'm not fighting it. I don't think she's left if you're looking for her."

His answer wasn't exactly precise but then again it's hard to be when people have a habit of not always staying in the same place. After all, he barely understood where he was supposed to be let alone where she was. Since the guy brought it up she came back into mind. She did have a lot of stitches like she was pieced together after being torn apart but she didn't really look much too bad for it. Perhaps rather it was Ed who thought it didn't look so bad. Then again he knew he was a sucker for the macabre. Conventional beauty had it's place but it was a place he was not welcome. It wasn't a place he would be happy in even if he was welcome. Things that made people happy weren't for him.

Jack still wondered about the ball, and he was starting to get second doubts. Was he even invited? They might want him somewhere else. He wasn't too sure, he had spent most of his recent time in the labs, so they could monitor a growth spurt. They wanted him ever bigger, and even stronger. Even if he was invited, what was the chance he would find clothes? He had some nice clothes from years before, from when he and his mom went somewhere nice. There is no hope of putting them on now.

The smell of food distracted him from that thought. "Clothes can wait." His sense of smell was keen for food, and Jack as still hungry. He didn't care if it wasn't up to some of the standards of his fellow Erubescians, he would still eat as much of it as he could.

As he walked, he saw two people chatting, although one seemed rather annoyed at the other. The second man didn't seemed phased by it though. Whoever it was he was trying to find, sure did sound like a sight to see. He was soon interrupted as his feet started to slide on the wet floor. "Holy smokes!" He slid forward on the floor trying not to fall, but it didn't take long before he felt himself starting to tip backwards. His feet were in the air. Desperate not to hit the ground, Jack reached for whatever he could. In his panic, he grabbed for the wall but instead punched through it, pulling parts of it down with him as he fell.

He hit the ground with a loud thud.

Jack laid there on the ground, with a fistfull of wall and a wet back. "Dammit.."

Cadriel, mop and bucket set to one side, crouched over by one of the few drinks vending machines in the main block thatd been spared Kora's wrath. Her work that in the morning had unearthed enough loose change that she could afford to dispense a paper cup of hot chocolate to warm up her hands. Poor circulation meant they were cold the majority of the time, though she could at least take a few minutes to try and coax some feeling back in...plus something to drink was welcome as she started work long before she'd get a chance to eat anything.

The little serf, tucked away in an alcove in hopes that no-one would see her and come give her something else to do, was just raising the cup to drink when the sudden crash and sound of splintering drywall slipped it free from her grasp.

The cup went all fo a few inches before it froze in mid-air, contents sloshing about wildly, but mostly intact, before its owner grasped it again and wearily pulled up the mop and bucket.

Something was undoubtedly broken.

While technically, realistically and practically this fact was absolutely nothing to do with her, the lightbulb incident not so long prior had gone to teach her that some of the higher ranking staff members regarded anything that was not functioning or maintaining full integrity as being her own responsibility... and the consequences ended up painful more often than not.

Of course the dynamic might have changed in some way since the same person who had used their powers on her for failing to fix a bathroom light had also been the person she'd given first aid to after some severe round of torture... but she didn't exactly trust the actions of a certain Commander. Or indeed any of the others who didn't owe her anything.

It was better not to give anyone an excuse to shoot her again.

Caddie hopped dow the flight of steps, bucket bobbing unevenly behind her, right up to the point where the turned a corner at the west edge of the block and came across the sight of some Knight, lying on the floor with a handful of the wall in one hand. She met this with a tired sigh. Hardly the first time...but also hardly quick to fix either. Actual maintenance would drag their feet on it for weeks so she'd probably end up fielding flak from irate acolytes keen to pull rank to make themselves feel better.

Perhaps out of unwillingness to face this new unwelcome complication, Caddie's gaze drifted.

On the other side of this figure stood the surly custodian who'd been trying to insist she was in the wrong place (something she was still not happy with) and finally there was.

"...S-Skip?"

The bucket, mop and cup dropped to the floor, landing quite impressively upright as the telekinetic young woman stood in the centre of them like the middle of a ritual circle, grey eyes wide.

"Skip. You're...still..well..."

Realizing abruptly that this was probably more of a spectacle than she had realized it to be, the experiment loosened her posture and turned her gaze away, turning her hands inside each other.

"I mean...I'm glad you're okay...all that stuff. I thought something might have happened."

"Yeah. Like I said, Creepsy," said Skip. He was about to take the janitor's offer for an escort when the drywall crumbled in the stranger's hand. "More messes," he noted, pointing--cheerfully, not condescendingly. Picking up some drywall was certainly somewhere he could be useful. It wasn't much, but with his conditioned psyche, any opportunity to be used was a thrill after his time in isolation.

"I'm Skip the Third, by the way," he chattered as he tiptoed around puddles toward the accidental vandal and the crumble of wall bits.

It was at that moment that he heard his name, followed by the bang of Caddie's dropped bucket. Skip looked up and beamed like he had just won a lifetime supply of sherbet.

Skip didn't share Cadriel's hesitation. The project could count on one hand the number of people who willfully accepted physical contact of any kind, and he was going to take advantage of it. The rubber soles of the yellow chucks half-slipping and squeaking in the water from his haste, he bounded to the smaller experiment and swept her into an almost too-tight embrace that could easily take her feet off the floor, glowing shaking a tad from the strain of not giving everyone in the vicinity cancer.

"I'm fine, I'm good!" he said, releasing her. "See? Granted. Stuff did sort of happen." His smile grew rather weak. He glanced at Edgar and Jack, not certain how much of what he was about to say was classified. But certainly there was enough base gossip around that they couldn't find it out anyway, if they asked. "They--well--they put a microdetonator in my head. I was supposed to--sort of kamikaze that Wanderer group for what they did to the base. But Eris didn't pull the, um, proverbial trigger--which was surprising, since I thought she hated me--and I was afraid so I told the Wanderers, and they got it out before somebody else could do the job, I guess."

He dipped his head briefly, pressing his lips together. A shaming internal sting like the zap of a dog's shock collar still accompanied the thought of his failure. His cowardice.

He stuck on a smile again and looked up, his face lightening. "Anyway--the Helton curse--it's a real thing, apparently. Who knew? It nearly got me dead--so I guess it means I'm still loyal or something. So here I am. Transport picked me up a few days ago. I've been in the labs until today. Eris--she put in a request to get some of my clearance back today. And, um, I came upstairs--and I met Second Tallest Guy I've Ever Seen and Odin, with the stitches, there--" He paused to smile and wave at Edgar and Jack in turn, just to make sure they caught their christenings. "--then you dropped your bucket. And I think we're officially caught up from my end."

He quieted for a second, waiting for her story, but blurted out again at the last moment, "Oh and one of the Wanderers Lolly helped me catch a pet bird. His name is Dan and he doesn't sleep in my room because of what happened to the puppies and the other birds and the cat and the lizard, but he's downstairs if you want to see."

Pause. A thoughtful crease of the forehead.

"Okay, now we're officially caught up from my end. What did I miss?"

Ed nodded to Skip, acknowledging his introduction.

He didn't need Skip to point out the awful mess the large oaf of a man had made. This just meant more work, more opportunity to get his ear talked off when it came time to report back. Before he could resume his mopping however the bang of a bucket hitting the floor brought his eyes off the strange rambling fellow over to the woman he had come across earlier.

From the moment she saw Skip he could tell they knew each other well. How well was questionable as Skip ran in for a big hug. Either the guy was an extremely touchy-feely sort of person, the kind of person who makes his skin crawl just being near, or the two were close. Regardless of who they were or who was sleeping with it was none of his business and he planned to keep it that way. It was getting way too crowded in this hall as it was. Two was company, three was a crowd and all of the above was more company than he appreciated.


Just as he was about to move on down the hall, hoping to avoid notice so he could clean the rest of the mess he made in peace, he found his foot would not move as though it were glued to the floor. Attempting to move the other foot he saw that it too would not move.

"Aw. Leaving already?"

He cringed. Hearing her voice never meant anything good.


Look, I've already made myself look like enough of a fool out here. You don't need to help.

He struggled not to speak aloud, a learned habit from past experience. He knew nobody else could hear her voice except for him, at least that is what he's been led to believe, and answering questions nobody asked would only make him seem like some sort of lunatic. He didn't need help becoming even more of a social pariah.

"Looks like you've made yourself some friends. Aren't they just adorable?"

Ed's back stiffened instantly as he felt a smooth, delicate finger trace down the right side of his neck. Sauntering up to his side the ethereal beauty that was his sister rested her chin upon his shoulder, lightly leaning on him as she looked over the group around Ed with a devilish smirk. He could feel her touch and her weight upon him but he knew she wasn't there. It was all a hallucination, a trick of his mind brought upon him by her. Sweat ran down his brow as he tried his hardest to ignore her presence.

No. I don't know these people. They aren't adorable either.

"Tut tut. You're too negative. You need to loosen up. Lets hang out with your new buddies."


She was so casual she spoke as if she had not a care in the world. The truth was she didn't have one. She was effectively unaffected by almost all forms of danger. No one other than her brother even knew she existed and Ed couldn't do anything to her. The most he could do to bother her was to keep away from things she might take an interest in. Right now however he was powerless to challenge the verdict. He wasn't going anywhere no matter how badly he disliked it and he disliked this situation plenty.

So there he stood, bucket next to him and mop in his hand. Having said her word she decided to vanish, leaving Ed's perceived world while he listened to what Skip had to say. He couldn't help but give a sigh of relief now that he didn't need to pretend there wasn't someone hanging off his shoulder now that she let him be. He knew better than to think for a moment she wasn't listening to every thought and watching every emotion that passed through his mind but at the very least he could suffer without her added torment for the time being.


At the very least some of what Skip had to say was of some interest. The fact that the military had put a micro-detonator in his head wasn't shocking news but it was still worthy of note. He wondered just how they planned to kill people with a bomb that small. There was also mention of some person named Eris but he had no idea who that was so he didn't care.

The most interesting thing to Ed that Skip mentioned was something called The Helton Curse. He didn't know anything about a Helton but from what he could deduce from what he said he figured it killed people who were loyal to Erebesco or something along those lines. Now Ed didn't wish death upon Erubesco or anything quite so strong but he definitely knew that he was by no means loyal. He served because he had no choice. Something with a curse that killed off loyal members of Erubesco would come in handy if he ever wanted to be left alone.


Not that there wouldn't be other ways the military could get him. If there was one thing he knew it was that there was always someone with something for the job. That was the irritating part about his fellow gifted. Thanks to their super powers it was a pure matter of fact that no one is born equal. He was born to be lesser than others. As far as his fellow gifted were concerned he was dirt. He couldn't blame them, he thought so too. To him he was just some one-eyed piece of junk that barely even understood his own ability. He'd never known nor did he ever want to know the specifics regarding his supposed 'Gift'. Quite frankly he didn't even care. He had had enough of people and their powers. He just wanted to be alone.

Of course she wouldn't like that very much. Far too boring for the likes of Id.

He wasn't amused with his new nickname. A name such as Odin's was well wasted on some rotten janitorial slave. He never liked nicknames to begin with and he was starting to really dislike Skip as well. Perhaps this is your plan. He wondered, thinking words knowing that Id would definitely hear them. You knew this would really get under my skin, didn't you. He accused her in a scathing tone of thought. Nothing answered back save a long period of silence. She knew he knew that she could hear his thoughts but she didn't want him getting the idea that he could just talk to her whenever he liked. She found his impotent rage highly amusing but too much of anything was never palatable.


Quietly he stood there, hoping his quiet participation wasn't drawing too much attention. He looked about, hoping they weren't staring. Given his odd behavior moments ago he figured odds were likely that he wouldn't escape this conversation completely clear. His trust in his own luck had been lost a long time ago.

Jack laid there on the floor, wondering what the hell was going on. He heard some footsteps coming with a metal clanking. Great. Was he in trouble now? Was someone going to take him away? He rolled over to see who was coming, feeling water and debris move under him. He wasn't so scared when he saw who was coming. A bandaged girl who only came up to his waist. Though, she still had the potential to cause him great harm. He didn't know what her gift was. She could burn him, zap him, mess with his head, or do something he'd never even seen before.

Her attention went from him to one of the men who was there before. The happier one, not the grumpy one. Jack didn't know why that guy was so grump, but he didn't like it. He didn't like grumpy people. What was his problem? At least the second man, who went by the name of Skip? Skip was a verb to Jack, but apparently this man's name. And apparently he wasn't the first one either, there were two before him. "What happened to the other two?"

Skip was much more graceful than Jack on the wet floor. While Jack had crashed and fallen, taking the wall with him, Skip's shoes only squeaked. He started to pick himself up off the floor. Jack rolled on his side to push himself to sit, and stood up from there. As he did, everything quickly went from being above him, to far below him. The two came up to his chest, and the bandaged girl came a touch above his waist. "Why ain't you a cute little thing." He would pinch her cheeks, but it might break her jaw seeing the state she's in. He looked to the damage he had done, and was surprised at the wide gash he left in the wall.

The glowing man was blabbering on and it was a bit too much for Jack to follow. A micro detonator? Wanderers? Helton curse? Before long his speech was over, and he was waving to him. Jack waved back, still confused. The grumpy one had started to leave, but must of changed his mind because he was just standing there. It didn't make much sense to Jack. Was this guy going to explode at him for breaking the wall? Who knew, maybe that micro detonator would explode first.

The Erubescan Command-on-call system was neither complex nor refined, but it got the job done: According to Citadel policy, any Knight Commander not otherwise engaged or officially off-duty had to have their earpiece tapped into the system, and a minimum of one Knight Commander had to be available to take such calls at any time, day or night. 

Commander Botrelle happened to be the one tasked with covering Thursday mornings. 



So, when her earpiece buzzed with the double beep signaling the start of an emergency broadcast, her surprise was muted to little more than a slight flinch. She passed in whatever condolence she had been offering Kora, halting conversation with one raised finger and a gesture toward the communication device. 


“Emergency,” she mouthed, fingers already flying across the surface of her tablet to pull up the video feeds before Nicola could so much as grant staffing permission. The former softness of the Commander’s face and voice were wiped away in an instant, replaced by calculating focus. Her lips pursed as she worked, gears turning in her mind as she took in the angles and details of the situation: 

Ronin was in the West District Library— a building with a twenty-five current occupants, three of whom were minors, seven of whom were library staff. One main entrance, two emergency exits, and no roof outlet. There was a cafe across the street, a modern art gallery to the building’s left, and several other smaller shops. 



The civilian population at risk was massive; at minimum, the library would need to be evacuated before anyone could proceed. 



Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth with impatient frustration for a moment, and then she pulled up the Citadel’s available troop listing. 

She began flicking names on the spreadsheet open to profiles, swiping those she wanted to use to the right in a column labeled with the date and an urgent tag. Two teleporters, one sniper by the name of Nathan Chandler, and a (somewhat hesitantly added) Serf Cadriel had already been compiled when Varren opened her clearances to the entire on-call Citadel force.

She began flicking more names to the right: Sniper Makorai Saika, tank Jack Rousimoff, and the dual-gifted Lindsey Nightingale.

“Thank you, sir,” she said to Varren, “Our team will be on the ground in fifteen minutes, max.”

Her nail hovered over one more name, and she glanced up at Kora. Her friend was battered, bruised, and potentially still bleeding under her bandages. 
Ready to be shipped to the front lines, if nobody came up for a better plan. 

“Get dressed in something decent,” she ordered, “Ronin’s in the city. If you can’t fight, you’re pardoned.” The name “Kora Norrevinter” flew into Lulu’s right column.



She tapped on the list, setting the selected troops into “Alert mode.” A series of beeps would sound on their ear intercoms.

“This is Commander Botrelle,” she said, speaking into her radio as she shrugged off her suit jacket and strode toward Kora’s door. She set off down the hall at a jog. “If you are reading this message, you have been drafted as part of an immediate emergency response team. Terrorist Rick Ronin has been spotted in the West District. You are to rendezvous at the teleport bay in five minutes. Civilian attire. This is not optional.” 




Lulu arrived in the teleport bay with Kora in tow just minutes after making the call, and was pleased to find that at least a portion of her requested team had managed to report: Chandler was in, as well as the two teleporters, Schmidt and Quirk, and (obviously) Norrevinter had all gathered in a timely fashion.

“No mistake, Cadriel,” she said into her earpiece, not nothing to mask her irritation at the time-wasting question, “You should be here.”

She glanced around those gathered, and the severity of her expression possibly added a good five inches to her height. “Knights,” she addressed them, and then turned to a blank wall. A flick across the clear glass of her tablet cast her screen against it, displaying a video feed of Ronin on one side, and an aerial map on the other. “Your prompt response is as appreciated as well as it is necessary— we face a crisis on our hands. You all represent— and I do mean you all, including those of you who have somehow managed to not yet drag yourselves in to be briefed as of yet, — a first line of defense for the people of the West District.”



A few more gestures of her lacquered nails directed the satellite image to zoom in, and a building plan of the library was superimposed over its image on the map. “This is where Ronin is located, currently,” she explained, motioning toward a blue dot on the plan, “on the first floor. There are two floors, and a considerable civilian populace at risk. The building has three emergency exits, highlighted in red, here… And two fire alarm pull stations, one on each floor.

“Norrevinter, you’re on the north exit. Cadriel will take the west; Rousimoff is on the South. Quirk will drop you off at a corner block away from Ronin’s view, here. I will also be dropped at this point.”

Lulu paused for a moment, circling the point with a winding motion of her finger and checking to see that Quirk understood.

When Quirk gave a nod, she proceeded.

“Schmidt, you will deposit Chandler and Saika, wherever the hell the latter is, though presumably it is on his way on two opposing roofs, here, and here. They are to load immobilizing rounds— non lethal. There’s no room for error with this many civvies around. If Ronin makes it out the door, you shoot him. And you don’t stop shooting until you are out of ammunition. I hope you read that, Saika.” 



She flicked back to the satellite camera, offering a clearer view of just how many people were around. Families crossed the street from one corner to another, and children played in a park a few blocks off. The stakes were obvious, and the margin for error was non-existent.



“When everyone is in place, I will enter the building, locate Ronin and send signal to Norrevinter. Norrevinter, you will light a smoke bomb and roll it through the door to trigger a fire alarm. With any luck, the smell of smoke will be enough to convince everyone it isn’t a drill, and make sure that Ronin doesn’t suspect he’s been caught.



“Meanwhile, I will do my best to create a decoy for Ronin while people evacuate. I won’t engage him with civilians present, if it can be avoided. If I should fail in this, it’s the job of everyone at the exits to push him back in should he try to flee, and alert everyone on their com lines to engage. If he tries to smash out a window, Chandler and Saika— shoot him.



“With any luck, though, I will be able to hold him in the building. When it is empty, snipers are to maintain their posts while the rest of out team convenes on my location to provide backup while I engage him. You are all to take any action necessary, including lethal force, to preserve civilian life and ensure Ronin is contained, in that order.” 



With the briefing complete, Commander Botrelle pivoted on her heel to face her assembled unit. 

“Are you all clear on the plan?” she asked, the steel in her voice obviously not looking for any answer other than “yes.”

Almost as an after though, she touched her earpiece, “Everyone else, do you read?”

They all said day drinking was a problem. A day drunk, Erubescian sniper was a liability, and that anything ANYTHING could happen. Anything, to Makorai, was the countless ring of endless problems that those much more responsible, and paranoid than he, worried about. Nothing really worried him, so Anything worrying him would be a bit redundant in his eyes. So Makorai, armed with the mental safety of Nothing against the Neurotic Anything had decided to start drinking at roughly nine'o'clock sharp. The first sip promised him a healthy buzz by Nine Thirty, and a comfortable drunk by quarter to eleven.

Makorai's usual eleven'o'cock spot was the canteen, he was much more an extrovert then introvert, and the joys and misery of daily life, in his opinion at least, was best spent with people you probably couldn't stand having a conversation with sober. Lately however, he had found himself in Cadriel's maintenance closet. Well, 'Found himself' probably wasn't as appropriate as 'Cadriel found him passed out on top of her cleaning supplies', but that first meeting had sparked a conversation that turned into what Makorai would consider a friendship.

So, from time to time he'd skip out on the canteen to express his disillusionment with their mutual employers, and listen to her woes with a drunken ear that was reserved for people he enjoyed. Unfortunately, it seemed the main ingredient in his mid morning cocktail, was missing, and something, or someone was holding Caddie up.

Makorai was not a completely even person sober, and much less so after having a few bumpers in his system. Their previous conversations had given him context to her daily routine, and he swore to the spirits around him if someone was spouting vitriol in her direction he'd give them the firmest part of his dissatisfaction.

"Yo!...." His face grew more contemplative, the first of the mass message had been sent to his communicator.

No way.

Fucking /Rick/

He laughed. There in the hallway, not the bitter laugh he laughed for his fallen comrades, and not the jovial laugh that expressed his happiness. He just laughed the the absurdity of what he was hearing. Rick. In the Citadel. What the fuck.

He was laughing as he fell into the wall and slid to the armoury, to promptly slide back out when he remembered he had been given clearance to store his weapon and it's attachments in his room.

Then he slid back when he realized that privileged had been revoked.

"Jeff."

The quartermasters name was not Jeff, or ever Jeff.

"Jeff..it's important. Commander /Botrelle/, yep, yep."

With a name that demanded respect, Jeff had no choice but to accept Jeff as his name, and wait for the moment he could wipe that smug look off of Makorai's face the next time he predictably lost pieces of his gear and came crawling back ten minutes before morning bugle.


He was assembling his rig with a level of affinity that transcended the mental state he was in. A dual mounted scope to brag about the peculiar, but efficient way his eyes processed stimuli. The bolt action didn't exist only to load larger caliber rounds in the chamber, but to signify that he only needed a single shot to accomplish what most did in a handful. It was a collar flair around the coat of skill he wore proudly with his swaggering walk.

"Loud and clear Commander."

He walked to the teleportation area, sniper in its case and threw up a hasty salute.

"Night Makorai reporting for duty."

Did he catch his slur? Sure a shit hoped so.

As Commander Botrelle's briefing rang out in the teleportation bay and through the communicators of those absent, Lindsey's lithe figure was dashing down a hall. A string of curses was rapidly coming out of her mouth as she ran quickly to the bay. As she practically flew, she managed to avoid hitting people carrying paperwork or hot coffee. "I shouldn't be late! I am such an idiot!!" She thought angrily to herself as she reached the room. She hurried inside and quickly got into line with her comrades. "Yes, ma'am." She answered quickly, hearing her question.

~

Nathan looked to the door as Lindsey entered hastily. He held back a sigh and simply looked to the ceiling for a moment before nodding to Botrelle. "Yes ma'am." He responded calmly. His attention was since again redirected as Makorai entered the room. He watched the fellow sniper with narrowed eyes, catching his drunken slur. Hiding his disdain, he prayed that this wouldn't be a problem for their mission.

Jack was standing there with the serfs when he heard a series of loud beeps in his ear. It startled him and jumped back, quickly covering his ears with his hands. This only made the sound louder as it echoed in his hands now. "Oh." Still jumpy, he realized it must of been from that ear piece he forgot about. He lowered his hands and laughed softly at his mistake. What could it be for? Was it for breaking the wall? Did they really know about it already? It wouldn't surprise Jack if someone higher up had seen the whole thing. He stood still and listened to what it could of been. This is Commander Botrelle, Uh oh. It very well could of been for breaking the wall. If you are reading this message, you have been drafted as part of an immediate emergency response team. Terrorist Rick Ronin has been spotted in the West District. You are to rendezvous at the teleport bay in five minutes. Civilian attire. This is not optional. It wasn't for the wall, but something much worse. A terrorist? Immediate emergency response team? Jack felt a sliver of pride. They wanted him? Someone wanted him to be with them? It also saddened him. It wasn't for the skills he favored, but for his more harmful ones. He would have to fight people, possibly kill. He didn't want to do that, but Erubesco, his home, was being attacked. Jack had a job to do, and civilians depending on him being there.

Civilian attire? Jack was good in that concern. Five minutes? That was more a problem. How would he get there quickly? And from where he was? Jack started to quickly walk to where he needed to be, but soon enough he heard another buzz over his ear piece about not being there still. Jack started to panic. Still startled by the initial beeps, and now being rushed, he became desperate. He didn't want to disappoint, or to let any civilian lives be in danger. He figured he had already broken one wall, so why not break another? Turning to the direction of the teleporter, he ran straight towards the wall, smashing into it with his shoulder. The same crashing sound heard not too earlier was now repeated, but louder than before. Instead of a small hole, it was a giant gash. After he broke through that wall, a second wall was soon in front of him. He punched his hand through and pulled part of it out, soon smashing through that wall as well. He kept running, pushing debris behind him as he kept running.

Bits and pieces of wood, drywall, and some split electrical wire were scattered on the ground. There he stood in front of the teleporter, ready to go. His hair ruffled, his clothes dusty. A trail of holes behind him. He stood with the others hoping not to be late. It never occurred to him that he might be doing more damage to Erubesco than he might prevent. "Everyone else, do you read?" Jack smiled. "Loud and clear."

Nightingale and Cadriel were late, which was quite enough to set Commander Botrelle’s nerves on end: Lives were on the line, and this operation needed to run like a well-oiled machine. A hint of irritation flashed across her features as both came in a minute or two behind the start of her briefing, but she took no further action to call them out or draw attention. Minor mistakes were expected.

And then Makorai Goddamn Saika had the nerve to be late and drunk.

Her lips folded in on themselves and her irises locked onto the ceiling to avoid looking at him.

This was not a time to let her temper get the best of her.

“Knight Saika, what, might I ask, are you-“

Crash.

A chunk of wall was demolished directly where the Commander had been projecting the map, the teleport bay’s security alarm blared to life, and a puff of sealant foam sprayed out from the wall’s broken points to close up the gap, spraying both the opening and the backside of the man who had smashed it with a pale yellow snowfall that expanded on contact. Rubble and dust were cast up into a cloud, and nearly all of the teleport bay workers turned to stare in silence.

Now, some Supervising Officers would have been fuming at this development, but “fuming” was not something that Botrelle was known to do.

She was known to tap a sharp-heeled stiletto, or drum her nearly manicured nails, or perhaps draw her rosy lips into a disappointed purse.

But she did none of these.

Her posture was rigid, and she did not so much as turn to look at Rousimoff’s graceless form. The rise and fall of her chest ceased, and she was frozen so stock still that, were it not for an incredulous blink, there were about five seconds in which it looked possible that she had literally died from disappointment at the team that had gathered.

She touched her earpiece. “Knight Kollert, I need a soldering job on the north wall of the teleport bay. Gather a prompt reconstruction team. Please.” A quick flick of her finger across her tablet surface shut down the screaming alarm.

Lulu was going to kill them.

If a vein did not burst in her brain from trying to comprehend the level of unbridled incompetency in the room, she was going to fucking kill them.

She took a slow, deliberate breath— The kind so deep that it strained against the buttons of her button-up blouse as she held it before letting it go into a sigh.

“Twenty-two thousand, four hundred, and thirty-eight,” she said softly, her tone devoid of compassion or fury. There was an edge in its quietness, the kind that seemed to lower the ambient volume of the room with its demand to be heard.

“That is the number of civilian lives immediately at risk in the West District. That many men, women, and children are depending on nine upstanding military troops of the Kingdom they have pledged their allegiance to to keep them alive. They are counting on nine punctual, sober troops ,who are capable of following basic orders without causing major structural damage to sensitive, secure areas for no justifiable reason.”

Her pale green glare was fixed on the back wall, staring directly between the torsos of Nightingale and Chandler without actually looking at either of them.

“If you are not capable of fulfilling these requirements, or understanding the weight of these stakes, you will excuse yourself immediately.”She paused, letting the silence linger in the area for a moment, and then nodded to Quirk.

“Put our snipers in position,” she ordered, and with a nod Quirk moved first to Chandler and then to Saika. “Nightingale, you’re with Cadriel at the West entrance. Schmidt, move everyone. And stand by near the drop point for the withdrawal operation.”

Schmidt gave an apprehensive nod and began working around the circle, vanishing each member of the team off to the corner, ending with Commander Botrelle.

Kora, for her part, simply stood with her arms folded, regarding this arrival rather skeptically, before looking over to Lulu in a manner that asked 'Is this really what you've chosen for a squad?'

"We've got a door you know." she remarked drily, somewhat pleased, considering her current situation, that she was looking the best out of all of them. She was on time, sober, and hadn't broken any Erubescan property...well not recently anyway. And nothing as extensive as breaking through walls.

And it wasn't by lack of capability.

Kora was only down by about a foot in height on the other knight, and she had long been quite famous (or infamous) for destructive capacity.

At least at this rate she was not in danger of any of the team making her look bad.

Her skepticism was only reinforced upon seeing the small figure of Serf Caddie stepped through the enormous gap in the wall, with a look of exasperated resignation on er face at the destruction.

Caddie had arrived in time to catch most of the Commander's lecture, and was almost certain she was not exactly in favour either.. but in all fairness it was hard to be prompt when you'd neither had any civilian clothes, nor had any real means to purchase them, for years. She didn't get out much. Well, she didn't get out at all. Generally speaking the height of Caddie's social life was talking with Saika whilst she tried to get to the drain cleaner he was lying on top of.

Her current outfit had been stolen rather hastily out of a cart of laundry, and some things left in a locker room by the teleport bay, so consisted of a slightly faded mauve sun dress, a hoodie at least two sizes too large for her tiny frame, and a pair of sneakers.
The lack of uniform didn't seem to diminish the strangeness of her appearance. If anything it worked completely the other way with more grubby bandages left on show.

But it was the best she could do in a hurry.
Plus it was not like she really cared that much for Lulu's approval.
She wasn't even sure why she was here.
Why send a janitor to do a Knight's job?
Still, if her work told her anything it was not to bother asking why.
Hopefully she could just get this over with and not end up vapourized.

Makorai Saika's belief in the divine was a convenient thing. Spirits inhabiting the bits and pieces of mortal life. It was a belief system void of restraint and greater moral struggles. It required little to no effort on his part, and also allowed him to humanize any inanimate object to the point on conversation when he was six cups over the legal limit. That being said, the convenient appearance of Jack, highlighting as what he was supposed to find atop the beanstalk, stole Commander Botrelle's attention like the marginally hotter guy at the bar.

Makorai nodded in Jack's direction. Thankful he was alive. Thankful he was a gifted being with such an immense drive to cause unneeded destruction that no one had time to check on the blood alcohol level coursing through his veins was Jack was on the move. 'Keep doing you man'. Makorai nodded encouragingly. Keep doing you man, keep doing you. This small bit of amusement now done, he took a moment to cast a sniper's eye to the motley crew assembled to safeguard ten thousand plus civilians in the face of this Wanderer epidemic. He expected Kora. If she hadn't been called officially he'd in the least expect her here arguing with the Knight Commander about going, all anger and swirls of red hair a second from becoming angry and sentient themselves. Cadriel was..a surprise, so much so that the genuine look of concern that inevitably formed on his face took a few beats to resettle into the RDF he wore so casually.

Next was Linsday, which sort of went without saying for him. Nathan however, bothered him for a multitude of reasons that he wasn't about to go over whilst he was in the middle of emptying his mind of all the background noise. Which, in itself wasn't a terribly impressive feat considering Saika usually didn't have much going on up there anyhow.

"Something heartwarming, something sarc-"

Teleportation took him and the, "astic" to his assigned building. It was athletically pleasing, and like most buildings in the city, took its cues from the old world artisans who's masonry had withstood the test of time long enough to be replicated in their modern era.

For Makorai, this meant he had cover, and a multitude of positions that left him largely invisible to the naked eye. Currently, he was sat behind a particularly skyward arch, attaching the three foot plus long barrel to a consol that switched between anti-personnel, and anti-material on the fly. Gravity stabilizers locked the mechanisms in place, and a series of scope glasses, akin to the pre war mechanisms used for judging ones eye strength, appeared in front of the scope.

Their application ranges from locating electromagnetic disturbances to thermal hear, even the absence of heat. A second scope, fitted with the same enhancements as the first was slid into its docking port.

It was a personal request, one that was useless on most sniper rigs, and probably more at home in a virtual game then a snatch and grab operation. Most was the key word here. Makorai wasn't 'most' snipers, and his ability to use both his right and left as master eyes, independent of the others, made this fantasy rig deadly in his hands.

More deadly then his companion sniper perhaps, has he'd strapped a series of lethal rounds to his inner thigh.

Dangerous thing to be shooting live rounds into a crowd, but in his mind? He was a bit separate from the rest.

Not cocky.

Confident.

"Arguably handsome reporting in, over."