"I apologise for the inconvenience," the person walked forwards, the shadows being dispelled to reveal it was Lukas, "I've been told you have to follow me, but can we first get all insults and death-threats out of the way. Throw them at me!"
Deathless Ideal: Part 1 (USSR RP)
- Thread starter CosmicCommander
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"Then you shall not enjoy the events of the next few hours, they involve a lot of words," Lukas grinned, "And beyond this point, you would do best to show some respect to me... And him..."
"But Yuri," Lukas's grin spread wider across his face, "Dramatics are key to all of our plans, we have all of the logistics, strategies, and numbers crunched, but without the dramatics all of our efforts will be pointless..." Lukas sighed, "But is you wish to know, I shall not tell, that duty is not mine, I am simply the escort, the informant, the conductor... But soon you shall meet the composer."
"Yes, who is this composer?" Sergei added in with a confident grin on his face. He had succeeded in keeping himself from falling asleep in the prison cell, but now he was beginning to regret it. His exhaustion may have been making him slightly delirious, which was making him more bold. He had decided if the terrorists were to kill them they would have already; likely they were desperate for recruits and would force the group of former prisoners to join them.
And join them Sergei would. He would join the ILSA, find out as much about them as he could, then escape back to civilization when he had the opportunity. Then he could reveal the terrorists' secrets to the proper officials, and finally become the hero he so deserved to be.
Still grinning, he continued. "I would love to meet the composer of this wonderful symphony you have here."
And join them Sergei would. He would join the ILSA, find out as much about them as he could, then escape back to civilization when he had the opportunity. Then he could reveal the terrorists' secrets to the proper officials, and finally become the hero he so deserved to be.
Still grinning, he continued. "I would love to meet the composer of this wonderful symphony you have here."
"I was a metaphor Andrew, but you are going to meet him. The door behind you is locked, and only the door behind me is enter-able. And this is where you shall go..." Lukas walked towards the door, and opened it.
"Follow me."
"Follow me."
The room behind the door was small, but it was defiantly newer, and different to the rest of the place. The walls were mirrors and the floor was black marble.
An elevator.
Lukas waited for the group to file in, and walked towards a panel at the far end of the elevator, pressed a few buttons, and the doors slid shut behind them.
The group felt the elevator slowly descend.
An elevator.
Lukas waited for the group to file in, and walked towards a panel at the far end of the elevator, pressed a few buttons, and the doors slid shut behind them.
The group felt the elevator slowly descend.
Dmitri stood in the elevator with the others. He wasn't quite sure if he could trust this Lukas, or the ILSA. Things they have done in the past, well, sometimes the ends just don't justify the means. These prison clothes were so uncomfortable. Almost impossible to free-run in.
Cyprus stood in the elevator, shifting his weight side to side. He turned his head towards the others, suspiciously eying the group he was with. He didn't take any comfort in the fact he was being held by terrorist, nor the fact that they were in prison clothes. He couldn't run away in this, that and trying to hide in the bright orange jumper would be next to impossible.
The elevator hummed as its descent continued, for around two minutes the group stood quiet, and anticipating the moment when the doors would open again.
A beep came from the control panel in the wall. Lukas walked towards it, and carefully typed a few numbers in, and pushed a button, the doors instantly responded by opening wide, to reveal the room they were to enter.
It was an odd room; you could not see any concrete on the walls, only screens. Screens plastered the walls, constantly flashing images. The images varied, and changed every second or so; there were faces, to guns, to animals, to paintings, to silent clips of films forgotten. These images compiled together from all of the screens, to form a sort of collage of information and art. The floors were the same black marble as that of the elevator.
A chill broke through into all of the group?s bodies; the room was cold, both literally and in its atmosphere. The group followed Lukas towards a desk in the centre of the room.
The desk from afar seemed unoccupied, but as they drew closer, they saw it was not. Behind the black desk, there was a shape sitting behind it. At first the group thought it might of been a shadow, but they soon saw it was not. It sat still, like a statue, but they knew it had eyes, they felt it pierce them from afar. The shadow soon gained form as they approached, as they approached, they saw it was a mere person.
They saw the person breathing, and they saw its hands on the desk (Although the gloves it was wearing did not give anything away). As the approached they noticed the screens of the room flickering their cycle of images were casting light on them, but the person at the table wasn?t, they were completely covered by shadows, shadows of no origin, and of no end.
The party could not see the person?s face, nor its clothes. They simply saw its form.
As Lukas approached, the shadowed person beckoned him and the party to sit on some chairs near the desk. The person did not wait for them to comply, it simply began.
Its voice came, and that voice gave nothing away of the person, apart from their masculinity. The person barely moved as it spoke. Its voice was deep, brisk, calm, and slow. It was an odd voice; it was beautiful, yet scary. It invoked so many emotions, yet it could not be described. The only description of it would be to say it was the voice of a God.
?I apologise for my men?s rough-handedness, and I also apologise for the circumstances. Unfortunately I cannot undo what has been done, but there is still the future to change... Hm?? The person made a movement of its hand towards the group, ?I understand you may have questions, and personal requests... So you may ask. I will be able to answer, and probably fulfil anything you ask myself.?
A beep came from the control panel in the wall. Lukas walked towards it, and carefully typed a few numbers in, and pushed a button, the doors instantly responded by opening wide, to reveal the room they were to enter.
It was an odd room; you could not see any concrete on the walls, only screens. Screens plastered the walls, constantly flashing images. The images varied, and changed every second or so; there were faces, to guns, to animals, to paintings, to silent clips of films forgotten. These images compiled together from all of the screens, to form a sort of collage of information and art. The floors were the same black marble as that of the elevator.
A chill broke through into all of the group?s bodies; the room was cold, both literally and in its atmosphere. The group followed Lukas towards a desk in the centre of the room.
The desk from afar seemed unoccupied, but as they drew closer, they saw it was not. Behind the black desk, there was a shape sitting behind it. At first the group thought it might of been a shadow, but they soon saw it was not. It sat still, like a statue, but they knew it had eyes, they felt it pierce them from afar. The shadow soon gained form as they approached, as they approached, they saw it was a mere person.
They saw the person breathing, and they saw its hands on the desk (Although the gloves it was wearing did not give anything away). As the approached they noticed the screens of the room flickering their cycle of images were casting light on them, but the person at the table wasn?t, they were completely covered by shadows, shadows of no origin, and of no end.
The party could not see the person?s face, nor its clothes. They simply saw its form.
As Lukas approached, the shadowed person beckoned him and the party to sit on some chairs near the desk. The person did not wait for them to comply, it simply began.
Its voice came, and that voice gave nothing away of the person, apart from their masculinity. The person barely moved as it spoke. Its voice was deep, brisk, calm, and slow. It was an odd voice; it was beautiful, yet scary. It invoked so many emotions, yet it could not be described. The only description of it would be to say it was the voice of a God.
?I apologise for my men?s rough-handedness, and I also apologise for the circumstances. Unfortunately I cannot undo what has been done, but there is still the future to change... Hm?? The person made a movement of its hand towards the group, ?I understand you may have questions, and personal requests... So you may ask. I will be able to answer, and probably fulfil anything you ask myself.?
"Well as much as I enjoy working for evil shadow syndicates I always feel... strange working for a person who has no face or name, unless the Composer is your birthname?"
He laughs at his terrible jokes.
"Now then Mr. Syndicate man, you have kept us imprisoned, taken all of our possessions, and now you don't have the decency to show us your face? Why? If you are going to kill us then why not show your face and if not then you have a strange way of making friends."
He laughs at his terrible jokes.
"Now then Mr. Syndicate man, you have kept us imprisoned, taken all of our possessions, and now you don't have the decency to show us your face? Why? If you are going to kill us then why not show your face and if not then you have a strange way of making friends."
His form seemed to look at them all, and then his form erupted into convulsions of laughter.
"Composer, Mr.Koyev? I hope not, I know little of making music... Although I do possess an appreciation for it I think you do not share..."
The figure shrugged, "However, I feel I can answer the latter question since it is legitimate. My men act on their own regard, I had no consultation on your imprisonment, if I had to handle everything in my organization... Well, you understand my point. But when I heard of you, I decided to investigate."
The figure shuffled some papers, then continued, "To address you Mr.Koyev, I must say you may not understand the person you are talking to. Even my own men do not know my face, name, ethnicity... You understand? I have no desire to be friends with you, but I have a wish that you shall listen and regard what I say."
The figure turned it's attention towards Yuri, "But Mr.Kormar! To speak and bring enlightenment is both the goal of my organization, and that of your life... Although I doubt you shall obtain the intelligence to fulfil that goal."
"Composer, Mr.Koyev? I hope not, I know little of making music... Although I do possess an appreciation for it I think you do not share..."
The figure shrugged, "However, I feel I can answer the latter question since it is legitimate. My men act on their own regard, I had no consultation on your imprisonment, if I had to handle everything in my organization... Well, you understand my point. But when I heard of you, I decided to investigate."
The figure shuffled some papers, then continued, "To address you Mr.Koyev, I must say you may not understand the person you are talking to. Even my own men do not know my face, name, ethnicity... You understand? I have no desire to be friends with you, but I have a wish that you shall listen and regard what I say."
The figure turned it's attention towards Yuri, "But Mr.Kormar! To speak and bring enlightenment is both the goal of my organization, and that of your life... Although I doubt you shall obtain the intelligence to fulfil that goal."