Immortal's Club - Game Thread. Arc Five : Winter Soldier (Started, Open)

Recommended Videos

JoJo

and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Goat 🐐
Moderator
Legacy
Mar 31, 2010
7,170
143
68
Country
🇬🇧
Gender
♂
"Die!" Cadeyrn laughed as the machine gun spat out bullets, covering the compound with a thousand and one tiny holes. He saw Ali fighting with a pair of men whilst surrounded by twisting flames and turned the turret on them, blasting the enemies over her head and across the ground like rag dolls. Once they landed they were momentarily still and then their bodies slowly began twitching as splintered bones began to reassemble and ruptured organs began to repair.

"More immortals!" Cadeyrn realised in surprise, "Damn, we haven't got long!"

"Down!" He commanded to Javier, who dutifully brought the helicopter down with the thud on the concrete of the compound within moments. As soon as the struts hit the ground the young fae leapt out and ran over to Ali, the flames around her having subsided. She was bleeding from her stomach and unusually pale. He knelt besides his friend and starting pulling at her arm gently. When she didn't react, he then prodded her face with his fingers with a little more force. "Come on Ali, we're got to get out of here quickly, please!"

There was no response, she was either unconscious or dead. He hoped very much it wasn't the latter.

"Someone help carry Ali!" he shouted to the other immortal's nearby, "We all need to get in the helicopter now, before those guys are fully mended again!"
 

drmigit2

New member
Dec 25, 2008
1,195
0
0

As Vlad carried the corpse of Shen the Hunter, Naditabirus couldn?t help but wonder exactly who she was trying to shoot back there. If Vlad had not acted fast enough, he would probably have been captured again. She hadn?t told him that she would shoot like that, and it just so happened to work out in a way that Vlad probably thought that her plan was to have him dodge it. She knew he could, guy was fast enough to manage it. Naditabirus grabbed one of the less blood coated sacks of cocaine and carried it into the Limo with her. Olé was still looking for Mahmod, but Naditabirus couldn?t care less about him any more. He was no longer a factor. She popped open the trunk to find a new addition, Vlad had moved a massive iron coffin into the back of Olé?s car and upon further inspection, it was an iron maiden.

Vlad popped open the coffin to reveal the spikes inside, all but the head would be impaled inside the maiden, likely so that its victim could stay alive. The maiden did however, have an extra spike sticking out of the head area, it was currently not in the coffin, but it looked like Vlad could slam it down if he needed Shen to be quiet. He had probably had it custom made for this very occasion. Naditabirus went into the car to start it up, she could hear bones cracking and flesh ripping as she presumed Vlad stuffed Shen into the maiden and closed it tight. He locked it with several different bar locks and then closed the trunk. Naditabirus felt numb.

Vlad hopped into the passenger?s seat and Naditabrus navigated the Limo out of the compound, passing Screecher, passing the inferno, and watching a helicopter land in the distance, likely to escort all the present immortals in. None of it mattered to Naditabirus, she just kept driving. Vlad had a confident look on his face, and Naditabirus took notice. It was not odd for Vlad to have such a demeanor when victory was at hand, but he was seeming extra confident, and kept looking back at Naditabirus.

?What? Do I have blood on my face or something?? She asked in a serious and almost slightly annoyed tone. The impaler laughed and said ?No, not at all. I have a gift for you, actually. For making the correct choice, as I knew you would.?

Naditabirus looked at the road again, she didn?t care a whole lot for gifts. ?I doubt it will do much, given the current state of things. But go ahead, what is it??

Vladimir could barely contain himself when he said ?I know where Jack is, we are going to get the knife from him.?

Naditabirus? eyes grew wide, she did not look back at Vladimir, but a grin appeared on her face. Vlad chuckled a bit, and Shen began to scream in the back of the trunk.
 

Frission

Until I get thrown out.
May 16, 2011
865
0
21
Shenshen is probably one of the greatest mass murderer in history. That was one of the cheerier thoughts that went through Shenshen's thought as he floated through the boundary of life and death. That was the only thing he had apart from the pain. It was simple math, since in their lifetime mortals could only kill a limited amount of people, while he as an immortal, had the luxury of having all the time in the world to commit atrocities.

Shenshen couldn't even remember the face of the first person he had ever killed. Then again, he couldn't remember the face of his mother, his father, his brother and his sisters.

the surprise, the rage and terror on their face blended together and were often reflected in Shenshen's eyes as he grew envious of them.

He didn't kill because he was a murderous type of person. He actually hated it! It was just a consequence of being alive. Everywhere he went he always had to fight. It wasn't his fault. He believed it too. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault!

yet he had willingly become a soldier several times and could only feel at peace during chaos.

Shenshen's body spasmed involuntary spasmed and he screamed. He couldn't move at all in this cage and while having his limbs constricted in such a fashion was an annoyance, compared to the pain of the spikes, he couldn't stop his muscles from automatically clenching and hitting the edges of the iron maiden. In a moment where Shenshen went unconscious, he remembered a joke Isaac had told him a long time ago due to his knowledge of torture implements. The spikes were only the start he said, it wasn't the bleeding that was the worst. It was the stress and exhaustion which really killed you. Shenshen briefly felt like cursing Isaac's terrible choice of conversation subjects, before he was brought back to reality due to a cramp in his leg. He felt like had ripped something important.

...

Shenshen couldn't quite remember why he did anything, and he couldn't remember when his curse began or why. He said that it was a curse from a God, but even his memories of that had faded away into legend. His life since then has like a book which had fallen apart, and while was aware of the present, he was only dimly aware of the past that had brought him to his current state. Sometimes he even forgot about the immortals he had hunted. Occasionally however memories came back to him however and he was reminded of happier times. Shenshen for a brief moment remembered Ur, his home.

Shenshen squirmed in his cage several more times before he suddenly went still and once again died. Shenshen welcomed this rest, however brief it would be, because it wouldn't be long before the spasms were back.
 

Baddamobs

New member
Aug 21, 2013
151
0
0
Screecher finally crawled out of the door. If the splintered and wrecked piece of wood could be considered a door anymore.

It didn't take the entire compound starting to go supernova to let Screecher know that she should start quickly making her way to the exit, though it certainly did help encourage her.

She was about ready to bolt and run out of the burning collection of buildings until she was sure of her eyebrow's integrity, when the helicopter touched in the very center of the growing fireball. Her earlier suspicion was confirmed when Cadeyrn hopped out of the still active vehicle, and began calling for aid in moving Ali.

The ex-bird's muscles started moving before she was fully aware of it herself. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do when she finally drew level with the fae Immortal. She was between worlds of hugging him or hitting him (though she leaned hugely to the latter), but decided to cast it from her mind when she saw the state of Ali.

Screecher would admit: Ali looked like a fallen demi-god. The flames of her power had faded, and she was starting to resemble the Ali they all knew. But the feeling of pure power was still thick in the air.

...Is Ali part god? I've never seen this before...

...A god...

Are you everything I despise, Ali?


Screecher shook her head. She could worry about the origin of the other Immortal when they weren't at risk of burning for all of time.

"You're late as always, Cadeyrn." Screecher wasn't sure if she was genuinely scolding or was trying to fake a light humor despite the situation. "Grab her legs!"

It didn't take long for the two Immortals to shift Ali into the helicopter, Screecher quickly strapping the injured figure into one of the seats. As she did so she looked over to the pilots seat, and was somewhat surprised to see a terrified looking mortal in the seat. At least, she thought he was likely a mortal: he'd certainly never been to the Club before.

Then again, Screecher reflected grimly. Today's been a good day to discover immortal beings.

Before she could turn to address the shorter Immortal, Screecher's eye caught movement. She turned to see several baffled mortals poised near the helicopter. Some were dressed in suits, some in dirty casual wear, though all were armed. All of them also looked conflicted between a desire to risk running to the helicopter to escape, or chose the dubiously safer (on fire) gates.

Looked like to was time to lay down some ground rules on this flight.

Shifting her newly acquired shotgun, Screecher fired a round at the ground near the clusters of mortals, causing them jump back in fright.

"You have a face and a name I know, you're welcome aboard." Screecher hoped that one of the others might show and prove her point, but all that she could see was fire and the haze of heat. She just conceded to making her second rule abundantly clear. "Anyone else: this base is still in a barely standing durability, and the authorities are probably only just heading this way. You may yet make it back to Tijuana if you run for your life!"

She punctuated this point with a second shot, closer to one of the groups. Yelping like kicked dogs, most wisely began running for the gate, others still looking conflicted, likely considering taking the helicopter by force. Cadeyrn hopping back onto the machine gun and grinning as he shifted the sight to the laggers gave them a sudden shift of priorities.

Screecher knew that Cadeyrn had already called for a retreat, but she regardless shouted out of the helicopter:

"Now's a REALLY good time to make an tactical fall back!" She scanned the buildings quickly being reduced to rubble, hoping to see one of the other club members making their way to them. "If you guys want to make an appearance for the grand exit, I'd say sooner rather then later!"
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
Tijuana

The city of Tijuana was on fire. Its center was the remains of a battle between forces who had no place there. Its people were frightened, hiding in their homes in fear of the return of those who could not be killed. Soon the incident was hushed, though it was unclear where the orders came for. Surprisingly enough, all of the residents were compensated but in return bought their silence. That fateful day in Tijuana, when Gods walking the earth , was forgotten in time, but the legend lived on to this day.


The Compound

No living mortal soul was alive at the compound after the narrow escape of the foreign immortals. The Compound was a wreck, a burnt out shadow of the past. Bodies littered the battlefield and among those were two men who refused to die. Slowly but surely they returned to their forms, satisfied at the battle they fought but bitter at their loss. No matter - there will always be another day for war.

Los Angeles, Storage Unit

'You're going to pay for this!'. A blindfolded man in a cheap suit was down on his knees, his hands tied behind his back.

'Tough talk from a guy bound and blindfolded'. Ben was holding his shiny colt revolver, freshly cleaned after their escapades down south.

'You were gagged a second ago. I can shove it back in if you don't play nice'. Jerry was standing in front of his former boss.

'I should have known you were a Commie'. The prisoner shot at Jerry. Jerry stepped forward and landed his fist against his nose, hearing the cartilidge snap. The prisoner let out a whimper of pain. Blood ran down his nose and seeped in his mouth.

'Fuck you, Max'.

'We've done enough of your dirty work', Ben was surprised he was the level-headed one of the two this time, 'We won't tell HQ you was sleeping with the FBI, you give up what we want'.

'I'm not giving you shit'. Max spat a mouthful of blood on the concrete floor.

'We need to see Helms, in private'. Jerry demanded firmly.

'You're funny', Max chuckled, 'You're really fucking funny'.

'Hold him down', Jerry ordered Ben, 'We will see how well you remember your training'.

Langley, CIA HQ

Jerry walked first into the building, brandishing his identification card and a wide smile. He handed a handful of documents to the receptionist - entrance passes for three, all the way up to the chief. Ben walked right behind him, a woman was handing by his shoulders, wearing a pair of sunglasses that hid her bloodshot eyes. She was drugged so hard she could barely walk on her own, and Ben had to walk with her all of the way. They smiled and tried to act naturally all the way to the director's office at the top floor, where they met Richard Helms. There was an awkward pause while he tried to guess why two low-ranking field agents even got to meet him in person. The fact the meeting didn't go through proper channels was left unsaid.

'Blow me away, boys', the director sat behind his desk with a bored look on his face.

Ben pulled away from the woman who was barely able to stand on both of her feet.

'Tell your security to stay put', Jerry asked nicely, 'And cover your ears'.

Ben drew his revolver in an instant, aimed it at the woman's head and pulled the trigger. The shot rang throughout the building.

'Don't worry sir, she will get up on her own. We found something interesting in Tijuana'.

Belize, abandoned Aztec Temple

'You *****!'.

Memnon was standing outside, Tut and Coyote behind him. His wandering eye returned to its place, for now. He was screaming at Ameretat for not following her orders.

'You stupid *****', he screamed at her again, getting closer to her. Memnon was an intimidating figure - extremely tall and muscular, this warrior was second only to Achilles at his prime. 'You lost Allanque', he continued berating her, 'You lost the Aztec Immortals'.

'I had a better plan', she shot back at Memnon in anger. Nobody talked to her like that. She was immortality, she was the first of her name, the first of her race, and not anyone else. 'You can't talk to me like that - show some respect', she held herself back, knowing her place was among them and not against them. 'I was the first of our kind, I was-', She was shouting back, getting closer to Memnon with every word, close enough she didn't even see his knee going up to her stomach. She folded immedietly and fell to her knees. Ameretat took a couple of heavy gasps before she looked up and saw him glare at her. 'You weren't the first', he spoke calmly, 'You know that'.

She was furious - how dare he hit her? How... How could he even hit her? It was impossible. She appeared further away from him, standing on both of her feet. 'I saved your stupid plan - that stupid dreamer was a liability, and the two cousins wouldn't stop fighting with each other! This is what you call your trump card? You will never beat them like that'.

Tut tried to weigh in on the situation - he opened his mouth and tried to say something, but a cold gaze from Memnon froze him in place. 'You do as you are told. You don't question me', Memnon carried on with an authoritative tone. It drove her mad. 'You are mine-', he announced, at which point she lost her patience and charged at him. She aimed for his big fat mouth, but before she could hit him something grabbed her hand, pulled her down and smashed her back with force strong enough to snap it in half.

'Do you think you can beat me?', he stood on top of her, his leg crushing her legs which she couldn't feel, 'I was second only to Achilles - He's dead now and here I am'. He went down to his right knee, putting his weight on her upper back. She tried to drag herself away but he pressed on so hard her body sank in the earth. 'I am the greatest warrior who ever lived, and who will ever live. Never cross me again. Is that understood?'.
 

JoJo

and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Goat 🐐
Moderator
Legacy
Mar 31, 2010
7,170
143
68
Country
🇬🇧
Gender
♂
The rest of the immortals scrambled onto the helicopter, which then under Screecher's supervision slowly took off and somehow emerged unscathed on the other side of the smoke cloud from the inferno in the compound below. Issac and Shanna were tending to Ali, who still lay unconscious on the back seats though her burn wounds were slowly healing. Lilith shuffled over to Cadeyrn, who still had the machine gun trained on the ground in-case their enemies tried anything more.

"Where have you been Cadeyrn, you didn't even say goodbye in the hotel," the woman made a mock stern face, ruffling his hair playfully.

"It's a long story," he said quickly in reply, keeping his eyes on focused on his targets, "I was the leader of a country for a while and I had a theme park built for me, but it got boring so I left."

"Where should we go, sir?" Javier called from the pilot's seat before Lilith had time to reply.

"Anywhere," Cadeyrn shrugged, "Well, not back to Nicaragua again, so north I guess."
 

Baddamobs

New member
Aug 21, 2013
151
0
0
Screecher wasn't sure what to feel, as the distance between the helicopter to the burning compound and city grew ever greater. What was a veritable hell on Earth steadily became a mere speck of light in the distance, and even faded beyond that. Despite the fact the helicopter was absolutely crammed full (the other Immortals having quickly picked themselves out of the rubble to board mere moments after Screecher and Cadeyrn had called out), the entire space was silent, barring the sounds of Issac and Shanna trying to comfort still injured Ali.

Screecher was tempted to just let the silence be, but knew that the elephant in the room had to be addressed.

"I...I'm sure Shenshen and Naditabirus made it out alright." The ex-bird nodded, leaning forward in her seat as far the as the safety straps would allow. "Those two have been in tighter spots. Hell, maybe they found each other and are already back at the hotel, laughing at our slow rears."

"That doesn't change the fact that Mahmod got away." Lilith looked up from Cadeyrn, her two fierce eyes meeting Screecher's one. "All of that was for nothing."

"Only if you don't count the burning gods we saw!" Screecher snapped back, only realizing the weight of what she had just said when the words were through her lips.

The silence seemed to thicken, everyone losing themselves in their own thoughts.
Gods.
That was the only word for the beings that they had just been witness to, surely. The Club was privy to a number of celestial beings, many likely being of a divine nature themselves. It was figures like Idun who made that part of the Club, consequently the part of the Club that Screecher avoided like the plague.

But what they had just seen...that went beyond even the god-like beings of the club. Those beings were the real, bonafide old gods. Beings who had not let time fade their immense power, and not let the passing of ages quell their fury.

If such beings were real...that changed a great number of things for the almost child-like in comparison Club...

"...We needn't concern ourselves over that too much." Screecher eventually spoke again, though without meeting the gaze of any in the helicopter. "They can have their backwards country back. I say we just go home, leave them to it. They won't bother anyone outside of their dominion."

Screecher let out a sigh, holding out her hands before her. Marked, battered, and covered in blood from a mixture of small wounds and scratches that were already starting to heal, much like the rest of her. Well, apart from her eye; for some reason that had yet to return to her.

Maybe it's permanently gone? A penalty for letting my life blood slip away too much?

Screecher decided not to dwell on it. Only having one eye, while definitely not the best of situations, was better then lacking sight full stop. Better to focus on the matter at hand.

Speaking of which...

"Cadeyrn." Screecher unhooked her harness, grabbing hold of the side of the helicopter as she looked over the still heavily armed Immortal. "Can see you back here, for a second?"

The Immortal had looked briefly surprised, before he made his way across, a questioning and slightly suspicious light in his eyes.

Screecher waited until the two of them stood before each other in the rocking helicopter, both steadying themselves by gripping a side or a seat. Screecher looked down at the fae, her vaguely tired amber eye staring unwavering into his almost amused bright blue eyes. Despite everything, he looked like he had gone through his own conflicts, judging by the burn marks on him, and no doubt there would be quite a story about how in the sweet hell he had acquired a helicopter. But Screecher pushed all of that aside. There was something she needed to get off her chest.

With a great sigh, and swallowing her pride, Screecher laid her free hand on the shocked boy's shoulder.

"Cadeyrn. I...I wanted to thank you. You have probably not only made our escape much easier, but may have indeed saved Ali. And...maybe me. I-I would have been fine, obviously. But you definitely made it easier. So, what I'm saying is," Screecher cleared her throat. "Thank you, my friend."

Screecher let the words hang in the air for a moment. In all truth, it felt kind of...nice. After all, Cadeyrn really had pulled them out of literal firestorm.

Cadeyrn's mirth and mischievous eyes sparked at this, and a satisfied grin came across his features. Screecher didn't really mind that much. The boy had earned his moment of triumph, as far as the ex-bird was concerned.

Of course, that didn't stop her free hand from lifting from the boy's shoulder, and whipping the fae across the cheek. The entire occupants winced in surprise at the attack, Cadeyrn quickly standing back to his full height, fury glowing bright in his eyes as he stared defiantly back at the frowning Screecher.

"And THAT, my little pixie reject, is for arriving late!" Screecher gritted her teeth, hand clenched at her side.

"Keep it up, feathers for brains," Cadeyrn growled, jabbing a finger into the taller Immortal's ribs. "and maybe you'll have to take an emergency sky dive without a parachute."

"Ohoho, I'd like to see you try!"

"Hey, Javier, turn us around! I heard old gods LOVE owl flambe!"

"I told you, if you ever brought that back up-!"

And thus they were off. Lilith made a half-hearted attempt at breaking the pair up, though it was clear she lacked the motivation to really try. Many of the occupants didn't even blink at the ensuring argument.

Screecher would carry this fact with her until the world turned to dust around her, but there was a very tiny, very hidden away part of her that had just sighed in relief.
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
Budapest, 1956.

Chaos ruled in the city of Budapest in those dark days. The countryside was on fire and blood flowed in the streets. A rebellion had risen throughout the nation, and the forces of the great revolution were under threat. They were greedy traitors, hungry for the taste of capitalist American dollars. Those demons demanded new elections and a release from the Warsaw Pact. Such a grave insult against mother Russia could not go unpunished.

They first swarmed the streets of Budapest, screaming their demands like rabid dogs. The armed rabble charged the central council building, murdering anyone inside. Good workers of the revolution, dedicated party members were slaughtered in their beds by those savages. They overtook the central Radio Station and began with broadcasting propoganda for all to hear.

Loyal members of the communist revolution fought valiantly against traitors from their own ranks. Brother turned against brother, soldier against his officer, policeman against the xitozen they swore to protect. The central council of Hungary, now in exile, begged the Soviet Union for their assistance, and mother Russia answered the call to protect the revolution.

Soviet tank and infantry brigades came over the border and quelled the revlt across the nation, but all was a mere smokescreen for the true cause of this invasion. The leadrrs of the Soviet Union, having mourned the loss of the great leader who lead Russia through the great patriotic war, grew suspicious of his secret pet projects. One in particular, the winter soldier, was most suspicious. Budapest was his test of strength - and of his loyalty. Can you kill for the revolution?

[hr]2[/hr]

He was standing among the common man in the great square, looking at the statue of the great leader Stalin, now shattered on the city streets, only his boots remaining in place. A sense of rightious fury filled the winter-soldier, an ancient rage of vengeance. He looked the regular militiaman with his rifle slung over his back. He advanced to o the Radio Station building, now crawling with traitors and broadcasting lies and propoganda.

Two men stood at th entrqnce to the building, seemingly more militiamen, new recruits from the masses of traitors in Hungary. They greeed him and asked something in Hungarian, but he did not understand a word. No worries fir him - everyone understood death. He slid the rifle down his back and it popped under his shoulder, where he cocked it and shot a guard. The next shot came quickly after rhe first, and pqnic spreqd through the streets. Tge winter soldier barged inside the building and killed everyone inside, not sparing a soul.

Outside enwmy tanks drove through the streets, and the winter soldier could have none of that. Covered un blood and gore, he faced against forces who huridly came to save those unside the radio station. It was too late for the both of them.

The machine-gunner spotted has m first and opened fire, heavy bullets tearing him to shreds. Yet he kept standing strong, in the memory of the millions who perished. He stood strong and refused defeat. Russians never surrender. The cannon turned to face him, and a shot fired, the air filling with a mist of dust and blood. From that mist erupted a beast of rightious fury, tore the gunner to shreds and climbed inside, the sound of blood-curling screams echoing frim a thick mist of blood.

[hr]2[/hr]

His existence was expunged from history, as was his involvement in Budapest, 1956. He was a hero of the revolution, a celebrated veteran of the great patriotic war and the KGB's most protective secret. He was the winter soldier. They knew him by no other name. The unknown hero of the revolution.
 

JoJo

and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Goat 🐐
Moderator
Legacy
Mar 31, 2010
7,170
143
68
Country
🇬🇧
Gender
♂
Oxford Street, London

Cadeyrn chewed idly on a drinking straw as he watched the traffic go past from his seat in a nearby cafe. Black taxis competed for space with brightly coloured cars, the constant roar was somewhat irritating but it was an improvement on the clatter of horses and carts he recalled from the last century. Cradled in his hands was the handwritten note that he had found at the Club's local meeting house the day before, directions and a time cryptically scrawled in neat handwriting.

"How nice to see you again, my dear," Rin crooned as she materialised by his side and sat down opposite Cadeyrn without further introduction, "My, I think you might have even grown a little,"

"I thought it would be you," Cadeyrn said, blushing slightly at her compliment, "You really think so?"

"I'm sure you weren't this tall last we met," she chuckled with a wink, before adding in a more sombre tone, "Not having much luck yet finding the relic yet?"

"No," he sighed, "I had a few leads but they all went nowhere, people nowadays keep moving around everywhere, it's really annoying,"

"Even as far as... Nicaragua?" Rin asked with a sly smile.

"You heard about that?" Cadeyrn exclaimed in dismay.

"Everyone did," she replied matter-of-factly, "You need to be more careful Cadeyrn, there is a barrier between our world and the ordinary, one that is not meant to be broken for the sake of both sides. There was a time when we could be more open but of course, you remember what happened then too,"

"The witch-hunts," Cadeyrn shuddered in recollection of memories he'd rather not dwell on, "Am I in trouble with Marco?"

"I think he'll let this one slide," Rin smiled gently, "I sent some friends of mine to sort out anyone who knew too much and the pilot, you dealt with him right?"

"Oh yeah," Cadeyrn said happily, thinking of the engineer enjoying a club-funded retirement on the Costa del Sol.

"Good," she replied quickly, "Anyhow, I thought you could do with some help so I've been digging around and I found this," She reached into her handbag and presented a faded black and white photo on the table. Depicted was a young woman of Middle-Eastern extraction, smiling awkwardly as if she wasn't used to having her picture taken.

"Her name is Amal Gibran, I have good reason to believe she was in the possession of the Cross shortly after the Great War,"

"The photo looks old," Cadeyrn admitted with a shake of his head, picking it up to study it closer.

"That's because it is, this was taken in the Twenties,"

"That's a long time ago... right?"

"Yes, forty years at-least. I expect she doesn't look much like that any-more. I included an address on the back but it's anyone's guess if she still lives nearby."

"Huh, thanks," Cadeyrn said, taking the photo and stuffing it in his back-pocket. Rin stood up and reached to shake the boy's hand.

"I'm sorry my dear but I have to go now, so many prayers to answer," she winked again, "Good luck," she added and with a final flourish disappeared thorough the cafe door into the thronging crowds outside. Cadeyrn stood up on his seat to wave goodbye but she had already vanished into thin air. He noted with a grin she'd left a small pile of notes on the table, more than enough to pay for his drink, so after helping himself to the bulk he scampered off out into the great city, ready to resume his quest.
 

Baddamobs

New member
Aug 21, 2013
151
0
0
Screecher suffered through another plane journey. She would have suffered ten more if it meant getting home, and away from ancient beings she couldn't comprehend. One of which could have indeed been Ali all this time.

It hadn't been easy, getting through customs without suspicion with a damn medical eye-patch, but thankfully the Club had enough connections in England to get her through with only a minimal amount of fuss. Personally, she would have thought a person with an actual eye-patch would have garnered some sympathy, but what did she know? Regardless, she had walked from the airport: a habit she had entered into whenever returning home from a long journey. It made sure she nice and tired when she got home, making that first, long bath all the better.

The ex-owl sighed, both from exhaustion and relief as she was finally in range of her abode. It wasn't easy to see in the dark of night, though the full moon had provided the Immortal ample light. No, the Immortal knew, from treading this path a hundred times, exactly how many steps she was from her front door.

She had originally pulled quite a few favors to get this house (more of an extended cottage, though she refused to refer to it as such) built in such a remote location, and even more to get plumbing and electricity installed. Still, it had all been worth it, to get a place of living away from prying eyes, and more or less in the out ridges of such a pleasant woodland. Made of solid brick and sporting a tiled roof, there was no where else Screecher would rafter call home. The sounds of nature and animals flowed over her, the unmarked path of plants and dirt she took crunching beneath her boots. Not many animals were awake at this late hour, though there was the tell tale sound of wings on breeze, and the sound of nocturnal animals scampering to and from, the trees almost ghostly as they swayed left and right in the brisk night air.

Screechr stopped for a minute. Taking the deepest breath she could, she held the scent of the night forest in her nose as long as possible, and ever so slowly, released it.

Home is indeed where the heart is. And a lot besides, too.

Fiddling with the two numbered padlocks on the door for only a second (she didn't dare leave it to a key; knowing how 'robust' her life tended to be she'd lose it in a week), it wasn't long before she was pushing into the house's only hallway and flicking on a dusty light switch. The place was tight and compact, only having the bare essentials for it's occupant: a bed room to the back with a trunk of clothes, a kitchen opposite that, a tiled bathroom, and a room that was both storage and a study. For lack of a better term for where Screecher stored her embarrassingly small reading collection, anyway...

Still, Screecher didn't spend too long in the house proper at the best of times. There was a reason she chose this location in particular, out of the whole of England, after all.
She reached into the bag she had carried with her, stock full of all the meat she could buy before she left civilization behind her, and dumped it's contents into a rudimentary fridge in the kitchen, barring a large pack of juicy sliced ham. With tribute in hand, she unbarred the back door, and threw off her boots before she stepped out. Taking a seat on a rather mucky wooden bench sat against the rear of the house, she gently pressed her toes into the earth before her feet, before letting out a unhuman call.

It was hard to describe how she could even make a noise like it; it involved a lot of work from the throat, and not breathing through her nose, but worked in any case, as proven by a sudden flapping of wings.

Within a minute, several owls had settled on and around the Immortal, all a variety of breeds and sizes, ages and temperaments. Some hopped around her ankles like impatient children, while some alighted onto the bench itself, seemingly content to rest themselves for a time next to the grinning Immortal. Screecher allowed her self a teasing smile as she let fly the first piece of meat, and a fast and flighty barn owl snatched it from the air, his sharp beak tearing into the flesh like a hot knife into butter. Waiting for the others to let out various indignant cries, she finally relented, and tossed several more servings, none of which touched the ground. Screecher laughed at the display.

I've clearly been missed! I hope you all haven't been waiting by my door like starving cats. Screecher coo'd (a literal case) as she ran her fingers gently across the face of a Tawny owl, who nuzzled into the sign of affection. She knew her companions would never do something so silly, especially since business often called her away regardless, but the teasing humbled them. Besides, they were well aware this little treat was her gift on coming home, like the human's perplexing idea of souvenirs. I'm sorry if I have to go to bed soon, my friends. It's been a hectic few days.

She spent quite some time she didn't bother to count with her own kind, mixing throwing the scraps of meat for them and gently stroking and spoiling the birds. She responded to their chittering and hissing in kind, smiling ear to ear all the while. While she did so, she slowly paced around the house (with the birds either flying or hopping after her), checking all the pre-made bird houses and boxes. Naturally, all made by herself: she wouldn't trust some damn human with it, that was for sure. She grieved the fact that three of their number were missing, either gone for the night or for good, but was quickly cheered by a much more welcome sight.

Of course you two would be starting at such a weird time of the season.

Two tawny owls looked down at her from the box, eyes welcoming, though clearly not eager to move from their spot. Screecher didn't blame them; an owl's eggs were precious things to be well guarded. Grabbing a handful of ham, Screecher tossed the wad into the air to be carefully retrieved by the male, who dutifully returned the meal to the female. She couldn't hear from here (mostly because of the various noises of the owls gathered around her person) if the eggs had hatched by this point, but knew the pair could likely with whatever they could.

I'll come back in the morning, and see if I need to start getting something a little more specific. Screecher chuckled. It was unnecessary, but she thought it was good practice to make sure the chicks had a taste for mice: few things compared to fresh rodent.

It was with no small regret that the Immortal bid her companions a farewell and a safe night, the bird's scattering: some would have quite a flight to return to their respective parts of the surrounding woodland.

Screecher let the slightest look of regret and envy pass over her features, before she turned back to her own 'nest.'

It was only as her bath was filling with steaming water did the Immortal realize she hadn't looked at her wounded eye for quite a few days. She had spent a few days in the company of the others, before they had either split off to take varying planes to a great varying amount of destinations, or had left each other's company if they had taken the same plane. Screecher had almost been tempted to find an excuse to not take the same plane as Cadeyrn, as the hours spent posing as the fae's guardian (if he asked if they had owl soup one more time...!) had been a gauntlet, but one she had just barely endured. Add on that the travel time it took her from London airport to her house, a fair distance, and she hadn't checked the wound in quite a while.

Shrugging, the Immortal stood before the mirror, and grimaced as the sound of dead, tearing skin cells broke off her face; some blood still matting the bandage material. Screecher looked from the eye-patch to the mirror.

And two eyes stared back.

Screecher's breath caught in her throat. Her mind buzzed between outright shock and a joy mixed with trepidation.

Two eyes indeed stared back.

But only one was human.
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
Kaliningrad, 1970.

They were late for the meeting set up in the abandoned military base. Outside the wind howled and the heavy rain pattered over the tin rooftops of the makeshift buildings littering the abandoned base. Wrecks of armored cars from the great war were left forgotten all around the base, awaiting disposal and dismantlement. The Baltic Sea could be seen from the highest building, a four story brick complex which served as the Headquarters of the base. Nearby empty hangers looked on at the sea in hopes of salvation, but nothing would come to save them.

Jack was sitting on a wobbly wooden chair, leaning forward on top of a slick mahogany desk and jamming a knife in between the extended fingers of his left hand. The knife he wielded seemed strangely familiar, although its handle was made from a new black plastic. He was wearing warm clothes in dark colors, a woolen cap over his head and ears. The cold seeped through the heavy cloth, but it wasn't as cold as up north when they first tested him. They were bad memories Jack couldn't shake off. It seemed like his whole life was a string of bad memories. He tried to change that.

The Hanger he was in appeared empty, but it was hiding an entire Company of veteran soldiers, mostly paratroopers, peppered with an occasional KGB agent and a handful of Tanks. The surrounding Hangers held the rest of the forces, ready to spring into action when the time was right. Among those there was the Soviet's secret weapon. Jack cringed at the thought of the bastard with the long beard, those hollow, dead eyes...

The sound of a car outside alerted him to the arrival of his companions. He will soon meet again with the Impaler and his girlfriend, and finally end the sad affair with the hunter, Shenshen.

The car was a sleek black cruiser, modified from an old police car. Now that he was back in Eurasia, Vlad had access to his car collection. He stepped out of the car, engine still running and smiled. Jack was here, just as planned. Naditabirus was notably nowhere to be found.

Vlad went into the trunk and popped it open, revealing a metal coffin with a red finish. He hoisted it over his head and gently set it on the ground. This was where they were set to meet. The King of Vampires grabbed the coffin and moved inside the compound. The Impaler wondered if his old friend was being genuine or not. It didn't matter, he still had the upper hand.

The old man had arrived rather late, which was peculiar for him. It must have been the attitude rubbed off his girlfriend. The two were awfully close, it seemed back then, and they must have shared quite the history together. Vlad was carrying a coffin with him - oh the delightful irony even made Jack smile. It seemed like he was happy to meet Vlad once again.

He stopped playing with his knife and placed it on the table behind him. Jack took a few steps forward and held out his arms in an attempt to embrace Vlad.

'Vlad, my good friend. It's good to see you. I hope the trip wasn't troublesome for you'.

Shenshen opened his eyes. He didn't know how much time had passed. Time had become meaningless for him, though he felt it had became harder and harder for him to die, so moments where Shenshen slumbered in the peace of death were replaced by periods where he went mad due to the pain of his prison. Shenshen greatly feared the blank rage that came with those periods. In the rare moments where he was lucid found the iron maiden covered in scratches and gouges which formed curses and nonsensical phrases. His prison seemed to reflect the degeneration of his own psyche.

Shenshen smelled the wind and his instincts told him that something was about to change. He felt movement.

[hr]2[/hr]
When they told him he would meet more of his kind he was afraid they could replace him. He feared it more than anything in the world - even more than death, since it was not a problem for him. They pitted the two of them together in the far north, to test his ability, and the abilities of the other one. He was an Anglo scum, yet he sought to join the global revolution. He couldn't be trusted.

He had a name, but it was forgotten long ago. He had a mother, but she died long ago. All he remembered was the cause and the revolution, the rebellion and the war. All he remembered was standing by the red banners, and living through all of those deaths. He became a legend, an honored veteran - and an agent of the state. The Winter Soldier was standing in a room adjacent to the hanger, only a mere door standing between him and the enemies of the revolution. The Atheist Monk looked at the men surrounding him - all good men, all strong and loyal men. He was ashamed they could die in defending the motherland while he couldn't have such an hour. That was the fate of the immortal. To live forever for the sake of the revolution.
[hr]2[/hr]

The inside of Jack's hangar was bleak to say the least. Vlad had wondered why he wanted to meet there, it was possible that he wanted to do something funny, but Vlad was confident he could deal with anything Jack could scrounge up. Perhaps Jack just wanted to meet in a secluded location, he always was strange that way.

Vlad looked at the Ripper with cold eyes and said "You and I both know that a hug from the Ripper lies among the most dangerous things in the world." Vlad was on his guard, it had probably occurred to Jack that one may betray the other. He was not going to let the Ripper stick a knife in his back so easily. Vlad placed the coffin down and said "As you can tell, I have my side of the bargain. Do you have the knife?"

[hr]2[/hr]

He could see him standing there, a grin on his face. The evil man was meeting another evil man, to do evil business. It was his duty to stop it, his duty to take the knife - no, forget that - take Jack's life. He saw it unfold through his binoculars, the exchange about to take place. Sun was standing on top of a hanger three hundred yards from the sea, leaning forward at the edge of it to take a better view of the situation. This was the moment he was waiting for. It was high time for revenge - but it was best to be certain, so he waited and screened the rest of the base. Signs of more activity propped up - armed men were trying to keep themselves hidden, but he heard them down below in the Hanger. Something else was there - someone he knew from long ago. An immortal.

[hr]2[/hr]

Jack didn't expect any warmth from the Impaler, but a simple sense of courtesy was something he had expected from royalty. Perhaps over time his manners were reduced to nothing when he rotted away in the various prisons they had thrown him in, but Jack kept his sanity with him. Indeed he have, he told himself, I am completely sane.

Jack turned sideways and revealed the table behind him with the knife over it. He outstretched his arm and presented it to Vlad.

'Before you receive it, let me prove to you it is the knife you were looking for... Open the box, and let me show you. I will avenge our stolen years in the pits of hell'.

Vlad let a wild smile grow on his face as he opened the individual locks on the coffin. He popped each one with unusual care and kept an eye on the Ripper. He wanted to see the man's face when he revealed his surprise. The final lock popped and Vlad said plainly, "I am afraid that the only one to finish the Hunter will be me."

Vlad opened the casket and out fell a cord, which he caught on the descent. On the cord was a single button, and as light reached the coffin, Jack realized what was really inside. An uncountable amount of TNT revealed itself to the Ripper. Vlad shrugged and said "Give me the knife, or I will blow up this building, and both of us with it."

Jack stared dumbfounded at his traitorous former companion. He trusted him to live up to the bargain - if not that, then at least deliver the hunter so he could kill him for the both of them. Jack froze in his place while his mind raced to find the alternative.
He couldn't give up on the knife - it was the only thing making him attractive to the Reds. If he loses it he's gone - he would have no sponsor, no place to hide. He will be found and returned to another new torture for him. He couldn't allow it to happen again. Never again.

'You traitorous bastard! All I ever wanted was have that dog killed for putting me in hell... You should want the same!'


"Don't worry, friend. Once I have the knife, I will send him to wherever we go myself." Vlad had a confident smile about him. His pose was that of a King now, he actually was feeling more like his old self now than ever before. His regal self allowed the room to go cold and quiet. His smile turned into a frown and he stared into Jack's eyes.

"Now put the knife down, and kick it over to me."


'What would you do then, Vlad, when this does go off? We will turn into a pile of meat... it will be days before we put ourselves together, and how will you get your knife then?'. Jack showed him a coy smile, challenging him to prove his resolve.

The sweet irony of the matter will drive a man to a fit of laughter

'I would have felt betrayed', Jack started, his hands holding the knife, caressing the edge of the blade gently like an old lover, 'had I not done the same'. Two of his fingers went up to his mouth, and Jack whistled. A door from the other side of the warehouse opened with a mighty kick, and a massive man charged forward holding an RPK light machine-gun. Behind him came a stream of black clad soldiers.

'I know you would like to press the trigger', Jack continued to the surprised Vlad, 'but it's too late for that'.

'Soldat, Strelay Na Provad!', Jack ordered in Russia, and a stream of bullets wheezed past Vlad. He must have been a terrible shot to have missed him by so much - if he was aiming at Vlad at all, and not at the wire going from the trigger to the pile of explosives sitting next to him.

'Meet my partner', Jack motioned at the winter soldier. 'Tell me then, where can I find Shenshen?'.

[hr]2[/hr]

There were gunshots fired in the hanger and Sun was on edge - should he come in now and make his revenge, or wait to see what will happen? He waited for all those years tracking down the Ripper, and it was only because of the contacts helping the Impaler that he learned of his location. The Soviets kept his location a secret, fearing more for the knife than the man, he suspected, but as expected he sold them a story about only he could use the knife to its full extent.

That's because nothing can really kill an immortal

Something was happening down below. Monkey heard rustles coming from where Vlad arrived, and saw a woman leaving the car and opening the trunk, where she tried to pull out a massive coffin. Who was it the Impaler was driving with?

Sun had to find out. He dropped down a drainpipe, climbing down the hanger roof to meet her. Monkey was crouching, his hands dangling forward, holding his walking cane. He looked down on her from the steel fence surrounding the military base.

'Who are you?', he asked ominously.

Naditabirus twisted around and saw a man in a cloak. A man with a tail. His voice had a distinct accent about it, she chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Kong. I would ask the same of you." Naditabirus reached behind her and clutched her sawed off shotgun. Kong was known to be scrappy and this was really not the time for his antics. She had just heard shooting, and no explosion. Vlad did bring a few guns, so it was possible he decided to solve things that way, but she really had no time to waste on a monkey king.

"I am getting the knife from the Ripper so I can study it, now go away." She hoped that would sate his curiosity, maybe he would ignore the coffin. Naditabirus wished she had slammed the iron rod down on Shen's head before taking him out. Maybe he wouldn't notice, maybe he was too crazy now to even comprehend the situation? The Lich regretted not studying him over the years.

Sun Wukong was annoyed about being ignored like that, he a legendary sage, a fighting Buddha and the most handsome monkey king! Sun jumped from his perch on the drainpipe and lightly ascended on the coffin. He turned towards the stranger and repeated "I asked you who you were dark one".

Sun Wukong made a seemingly casual motion to scratch his head and grabbed the needle that was placed behind his ear for safe keeping. With his weapon in hand, Sun Wukong tapped the coffin he was on with the base of his foot. "What is this? Doesn't it seem a bit excessive to hold a knife? Is it something important?" Sun insolently cocked his head to the side and smiled, although his eyes remained cold and fixated on the woman in front of him "Well I'll be keeping this as well as the knife, so you can go study something else student".

Naditabirus' eyes betrayed her lack of interest in Kong. The fact that he was touching the iron maiden did not help. Naditabirus took a step back and whipped her shotgun forward. "You won't be able to deflect this, Kong. Go back home, pretend to have the world figured out and stay out of my business." Nadi never did respect the monkey, she read his story and was not really all that impressed.

"As for who I am" Naditabirus continued. "I am Naditabirus." With that, she fired her shotgun. There was no time to waste with the monkey. Vlad might need her soon. Plus, she doubted Kong would be so nice if the hangar exploded.

Sun Wukong's face was briefly stuck in an almost comical expression of surprise when Naditabirus made a movement to take out her gun, but recovered quickly enough that in the moment Naditabirus took to say her name Wukong had brought down his fist with an exaggerated flourish. The needle in his hand expanded rapidly and took on the size of a pillar, enough for Wukong to take refuge behind and shield himself from the shot.

Sun Wukong then shrunk the size of his weapon to that of a tree trunk, jumped in the air and bellowed "It's the Monkey King to you!" before bringing it down towards Naditabirus.

Naditabirus jumped to the left and barely dodged the massive strike by Kong. Snow scattered everywhere, but mostly piled to the sides. Wukong left a massive dent in the earth where his poles struck, but there was no immortal under him. The new terrain allowed Naditabirus to hide among the new mounds of powder while she reloaded. Kong was dangerous, that was well known. But his hubris was also well known.

"Pathetic! You can't beat a woman without using your pole? I thought you were the Monkey King, not some sort of brute." Naditabirus quickly began to move towards one of the hangars, and caught sight of Kong again.

Sun Wukong had to wait before the snow and dust cleared to see that his attack had no effect. His opponent had the speed and habits of a snow rabbit. He could hear her mocking him and he snarled at the taunts of his opponent. He, Sun Wukong was tempted to chase after her and show why he was the Sage equal to Heaven, but remembered the teachings of his friend. Sun breathed deeply, then smirked and announced to no one in particular: "I am the Monkey King and I suppose I can graciously forgive your ignorance".

He walked back to the truck and stood next to the coffin that his opponent had been guarding.

Wukong drew a small circle around with his staff and then examined the coffin, it smelled of blood and worse, but anything associated to the immortals here would probably have root in some dark magic, like the knife. He might as well confiscate their weapons in that case. Sun loudly announced to the surrounding area "Stupid. How stupid. I got your coffin!"Sun Wukong lifted his staff and broke the locks holding the iron coffin's door in place and in a grand gesture opened the door to whatever prize was within.

Sun then stared bemused at the coffin's content, which seemed to be a starved men.

From the compound, a small army of soldiers began rushing out. They were speaking Russian, a language Naditabirus was unfamiliar with. What she figured however, was that Vlad had been captured somehow, and that the army was now searching for her, and for Shen. The Lich peaked at WuKong prodding at the coffin, and unsealing it. Naditabirus sighed, there was no possibility now of taking down WuKong, the army, and ensuring Shenshen stayed in his coffin. There was only one option now, a strategic flank that resulted in a recovered knife.

Naditabirus ducked for cover and allowed WuKong to continue investigating the coffin, he would draw the attention of the army, allowing her to sneak past. She kept low to the snow and moved in a circle toward the hangar. The army was more interested in her car than anything else, though she had her pistols at the ready if she needed to strategically remove one of the mortals.

Shenshen groggily opened his eyes and met the eyes of what seemed to be a very hairy man. Both immortals looked at each other in confusion for a few moments before they were alerted by shouts originating from the warehouse. Shenshen only had time to glimpse at some Russian soldiers running towards them before he was unceremoniously grabbed by the hairy man over his shoulder. After that the only thing he felt was the sensation of flying, before he once again passed out.

[hr]2[/hr]

Vlad was slowly losing ground to Jack and his army. His skills in subterfuge was useless in such a wide open warehouse, and even with his speed he couldn't dodge every single bullet that was being shot at him. They were even bringing in machine guns, to take him down. Worst of all Jack hadn't lost his edge at all and it was only by sheer luck that he hadn't gotten stabbed yet. Nadi was the one who was supposed to pacify him, so where the hell was she?

For a moment a thought went through Vlad's mind. What if Nadi had simply fled or even betrayed him to Jack? This made him hesitate for a split second mid-kick, which was all that his enemy needed. Jack slashed Vlad's leg and the Impaler fell.

Jack looked down at Vlad, with a small smirk on his face and drawled.
"You know Vladdie, I never had the chance to give you a proper London welcome. I was indisposed by that damnable hunter, but I heard he gave you a good enough run of the place. Still, I always wanted to show you what we do to Polacks like you back home."

Jack then brought down his knife for the kill.

It was at that point, that Vlad saw in the corner of his eye, a tank. It was hidden behind some loose sheet metal, but he could see it poking out a little bit. They had brought a tank? What for? This was beyond overkill, but in it the Impaler saw an opportunity. He kicked Jack in the shin and forced him to go tumbling to the ground. The vampire then bolted straight to the tank, ripping the sheet metal in one swipe, he hopped on top of the tank and began to force the hatch open. The bullets flying past him didn't matter anymore. He could hear the screams of the people inside.

"Jack! You brought me a present?" Vlad said as he ripped the hatch open and jumped inside the tank. Jack and The Winter Soldier did not even have a second to react to this, as one of the terrified operators of the tank fired. While normally this would not be a massive problem, the coffin inside the hangar was filled with enough explosives to level the entire building, which is exactly what it did when the tank fired.

Of course the tank itself was fine. It's a tank, an indirect explosion is not going to do a whole lot to it. Everyone else on the other hand, disappeared under a pile of rubble. Vlad had at this point managed to kill the operators of the tank, and slowly drove it out of the rubble, turning the barrel at the small legion who had exited the hangar. Some of them were already killed by shrapnel sent out by the hangar, but a whole lot more were about to be dead. Vlad began to laugh as he fired the tank, sending out a massive shell towards the army.

[hr]2[/hr]

The explosion hit, and hit hard.  Shrapnel flew everywhere around her, a particularly large piece landed about three feet near her.  Naditabirus? eyes grew wide, but she knew what to do.  Or at least she thought she did, Vlad came rolling out of the rubble in a massive tank, and she could only watch as he fired explosive shell after explosive shell into the crowd of soldiers that had come chasing after her car.  She watched very carefully, and her eyes grew wide as she saw one of the shells hit her car.  He was insane!  He had not seen her, and he knew she was in the car.  Maybe he missed, but he was being too reckless.  Naditabirus steeled her nerves and in the chaos, ran to the hangar to recover Jack?s knife.

Running through snow is not easy, she was dressed warmly, but everything around her was frigid.  She was moving slowly, but surely.  The hangar?s ruins were in sight.  It was possible that this could take a really long time, but Naditabirus did not really think about that as she moved forward.  She wanted the knife, she had wanted the knife.  She needed the knife.  She had sacrificed too much to not have it.  The Lich reached the first bit of rubble and began to tear at it.  She was wearing gloves, but she occasionally got cut by the errant piece of hangar.

Naditabirus kept digging, she had her shotgun in hand and the second she saw any bit of the Ripper, she would blast so much buckshot in his face that he would never get up again.  Especially after she plunged the knife in his heart.  There was no time for studying it on him, she had to kill the Ripper.  It was the only solution.

It was buried under metal sheets and bits of concrete, reinforced iron and a lot of dust - but Nadi recognized the glint of metal when she saw the knife flicker at her in the moonlight. It was a beautiful sight - her deepest desire, the end to her journey of understanding what she was afflicted with coming to a sweet end - had it not snapped up and shoved itself in her neck, tearing at flesh like it was butter. Nadi was in a daze, shocked to find her blood seeping from her, the wound refusing to heal as they would normally. She clutched her throat in an attempt to stop the bleeding, which helped slightly. A deep gash across the side of her neck was oozing thick blood. Near her more rubble moved and a figure emerged underneath - Jack the bastard, Jack the murderer, Jack the rapist - Jack the ripper, with a wicked smile on his face.

'Cat got your tongue?', he teased her, kicking away her weapon as he watched her struggle to get up.

[hr]2[/hr]

There was a path in the rubble made by a massive Soviet-made tank making way through the ruins. It was piloted by one man - but that man had lived enough lifetimes to populate a small nation. It sowed panic in the men outside, firing shells and operating the heavy machine-gun at the top. The sound of screaming men was muffled by the rubble, but it still reached his ears. His countrymen, getting slaughtered in the field. Just like in Leningrad. Just like in Kharkov. Just like in Stalingrad. He wouldn't have it. He had to resist.

Vlad was firing everything the tank had. Shell after shell, it really did seem to make a difference. The Russian army was dealing with...wait was that Sun? What was he doing here? Had Jack made even more enemies? Vlad shrugged it off, Kong had most of the soldiers handled, and was beginning to make a rush for the rubble. Vlad's eyes grew wide, the rubble! Was Kong after Jack's knife? He couldn't have that. Vlad turned around and saw Naditabirus fall back and began to aim the cannon of his tank. He couldn't tell what was going on, but she seemed hurt.

Vlad drove through the now open landscape, killing off the ants that remained in his playground. They were all merely human, every one of them, and nothing made them special. They were all dispensable - buts of meat carrying juicy blood - oh, how he craved for it now as mists of it came up where living bodies used to be. He noticed in the edge of the sights Nadi being brutalized by Jack, of all people - and the top gun to aim at him. That murderer had outlived too many encounters - he was like a cockroaches, and those had to be squashed.

'I am a gentleman, which is why I will allow you to have your last words-', Jack smiled as Nadi struggled to speak with her throat so badly hurt, '-you can't? What a shame. While you were living high off your -', Jack waved his knife around in the air, looking for the right word to describe Nadi's coke crazed frenzies, '-addiction-', he continued, '-I was living in my own shit. Do you know you can never get used to the smell? I can still smell it, taste it, always a hint of it around me... I was a gentleman, a royal physician, they were harlots - working girls, and you put me up in this madness?'. Jack felt rage building up in his body' the urge to exact vengeance, some retribution on anyone even slightly responsible for his incarceration - though that plan didn't go so well when a tank rolled up next to him and decided to use him as target practice. Jack turned back and ran as fast as he could, hoping to outrun a speeding bullet - or a shell.

Underneath all of that rubble a heart pounded for justice. Its bloody hands delved deeper in the wreck above, pulling a broken body out of the ruins. It was the determination of the devout and the iron-will of the willing that brought such a miracle of the global revolution to the surface - quite in time to take a direct hit from an explosive shell. Bits of flesh scattered everywhere while the dust settled. A figure ran forward, murder in its sunken black eyes.

It jumped up and stood on top of the open hatch, bone and exposed flesh showing, blood dripping from everywhere. The winter-soldier dropped down below to the innards of the tank and faced off against the king of vampires. One was powerful beyond comprehension - the other wouldn't allow himself to die, as long as his mission was left undone. Out of the tank came only one man, or what resembled one. The regeneration worked slowly, but the appearance of the great soldier of the revolution came to be bit by bit.

[hr]2[/hr]

Shenshen's monstrous regeneration which had been suppressed for the past few years was now finally taking effect. Bones splintered, then healed, muscles were re-knitted and blood once again flowed through his veins. Shenshen slowly got up. He looked more like a corpse than anything that was a part of the world of the living world, starved and covered in filth as he was, but he could move and fight and that's what mattered (the only thing that had mattered).

Shenshen checked his surroundings. He was on top of some sort of building and he knew that it was very cold, but that was it. Everything else was a blur, and he had heard screams, gunfire and what seemed to be an explosion as he slept, he couldn't be sure what was real and what was a product of his fevered mind. He could take for example the very hairy man in front of him. Shenshen's memory cleared for a minute and he recognized the features of the entity known as Sun Wukong.

Seeing him stir the Monkey King muttered "Well, it looks like the hungry ghost is awake" and looked over the ledge of the building. Shenshen unsteadily walked towards the edge of the building and saw what was monopolizing the Monkey King's attention.

There were several copies of what looked like the Monkey King hitting anything within reach of them with a cudgel. The panicked soldiers facing them were poorly prepared for their rampage and shot wildly at the clones, but only managed to hit each other more often than not. Without turning away his eyes from the scene in front of him the Monkey King addressed Shenshen " The trouble with the illusion of magic is that mere belief in it creates more demons."

Apart from that Shenshen saw a collapsed warehouse, as well as a the familiar figure of a lich navigating through the debris. The Monkey King had noticed her as well. "The student! She may very well lead us to the knife!" Sun jumped up and made a few exaggerated stretches, then turned towards Shenshen " You are an immortal, correct? As they say: Even a starving camel is bigger than a horse, so I'm sure you'll be of some help. I'm sure you would also want to help your savior." Without waiting for a response the Monkey King roughly grabbed Shenshen and then jumped towards the figure below.

[hr]2[/hr]

Naditabirus' eyes grew wide.  She had only been half paying attention to the Ripper, and Vlad's tank.  Or whatever was happening there.  Her eyes were only on the knife.  She took a deep breath and started analyzing the situation.  She was clearly in shock right now, the neck wound was problematic, but not crippling yet.  She would need to deal with it, but there were more important matters.  Jack had kicked away her shotgun, but she had other weapons.

Naditabirus quickly drew a pistol and fired it at Jack's back as he ran away.  She missed, but attributed it to recovering.  The Lich stood up and began to run after him.  She fired again and grazed his shoulder.  Four shots left, but now she was on his tail.  "You ************!  You have the secret to our affliction right in your hands, but instead of studying it you give it to the Russians to weaponize?  You small minded freak!  I have spent thousands of years researching this, spending longer than you have been alive trying to solve the mystery.  I will NOT let you take the key away,"  A third shot rang out and hit Jack's hand, though not the one with the knife.  Naditabirus cursed and continued to chase him.

It was clear at this point, that the two could run forever in the snow.  Naditabirus wouldn't let that happen.  Another shot rang out and this time, Jack dodged it and turned around.  Naditabirus drew out another pistol and began to smile.  Jack sighed and began to flick his knife around.  ?My dear, you can?t have the knife.  Not now, not ever.  I don?t care about your spoiled arrogant goals, but what I can say, is that the only thing this is the key to, is my freedom.?  Jack lunged at Naditabirus and she quickly dodged to the left.  She fell in the snow but quickly rolled away.  Jack turned to her and attempted to jump at her.

Naditabirus rolled again and kicked Jack in the side before getting up.  Jack too brought himself from the ground, grunting a bit and they both raised their weapons at each other.  Naditabirus stared at Jack, and he stared into her eyes.  ?You have the same eyes as Vlad.?  Was all she said before firing her gun.  Jack swung the blade at her, but accidentally put his knife in the bullets way.  He watched it careen into the snow as Naditabirus smirked.  She pulled the trigger again, only to hear a click.  She tried her other gun, but another click.  Jack began to laugh as he whipped out a scalpel and cut at Naditabirus? shoulder.  He had almost finished regenerating from the gunshots, and Naditabirus saw the scalpel would quickly fade.  She looked to her side and began to whip out a flash bang, but before she could, Kong?s voice came yelling from the skies and he stepped in between both of them.

'This one is mine', Wukong shouted over to the injured Nadi. Her vision was blurred, and every step felt harder to make than the one before. The wound refused to heal itself like any other, and Nadi felt like a puny mortal for the first time in centuries. Jack's eyes widened at the sight of the monkey-king. There was no chance he could defeat him on equal terms, and the insult he threw it him would spell his doom. He turned away and ran for his life, or the knife buried in the snow, which were one and the same. Without the knife, he was worth nothing to the Soviets - and without their protection, he would return to hell yet again. Sun watched the pitiful immortal flee for his life with glee - Jack couldn't possibly believe he could get away - and his desperation only made the impending revenge the sweeter.

Nadi turned away from the monkey-king and let the flash-bang go off. Sun was blinded with a thousand suns, and his ears were assaulted with the most horrible scream. She picked herself up and ran in a last ditch attempt to get what was rightfully hers, that damned knife. 'What is this?', Wukong rubbed his eyes and shouted at the people around him. Behind him the recently rejuvinated Shenshen stumbled to meet the ripper . Three of them came after the knife, and only one could take it.

Jack stumbled on a cluster of debris from the hanger, lost his balance and completely fell after twisting his leg on top of a dead Russian soldier. Nadi jumped over the soldier and landed on Jack, and then landed on top of the knife, clutching it with both hands. Shenshen came up behind her, still quite disoriented. Everything seemed like a blrr to him and he had to figure out what lead to those dreadful years in captivity. The last thing he remembered was Vlad, and then... the dark.

'I have it', she whispered happily, limping towards Jack, 'I can see it up close'. She forgot about the cut on her neck, her lover torn to pieces in the tank, and all of those years imprisoning Shenshen. All that mattered was the knife. The knife... and how it worked. Jack was pulling himself up from the snow and was met with a sharp pain in his shoulder. The knife pierced through his flesh and scrapped his shoulder-blade. Nadi raised the blade and examined the blood - she smiled at the sight of the dark liquid - and then stabbed the ripper again. She tried to drag him up so she could examine his wound closely, tearing the cut in his shirt and examining the wound in his shoulder. 'That's amazing', she mumbled at the sight of the grooves and nicks, the special form of the wound, its refusal to simply heal on instinct.

Shenshen walked up behind Nadi, his arms warily outstretched to meet her and with a sense doubt in his eyes. 'He put me in there', Shenshen was beyond angry - beyond furious - his rage was pent up for so long, there was no way to describe it. It was pure evil. 'Give it to me', he asked her, nearly begged her for it, 'Give me the knife. Let me have him'. Nadi stood with her back to him, her head going wildly from left to right, 'no no no no...', she kept on saying, 'It's mine'. Shen gently placed his hand over her shoulder and asked her again, 'Let me have it. Let me have him. I'll return it to the club and give it to Mar-', Shen couldn't finish his sentence when the knife was rooting through his side. 'Do you know how long I've been looking for this? Do you?', she shoved the weakened Shenshen back, his weight still held firmly on her. 'It's mine, and nobody can have it! Not you, not the ripper, not that stupid monkey and not that fucking Marco'. Shenshen slipped off the knife, making a queasy sucking sound. 'But I didn't...', he tried to finish his sentence and fell to the snow. Jack was crawling away from the scene, somehow surviving all of that punishment and deciding to continue his petty existence.

Nadi was confused, of all things - she was loosing a lot of blood, her vision was already blurry, and she had to get out with the knife. Everything around her seemed deserted or broken - her car was blown up, and her lover was out of sight. She had to leave Russia at once, but first - there was the unresolved matter of a certain royal physician. 'Where are you going Jackie?', Nadi was swinging left and right as she tried to walk, struggling to stay on her feet, 'You need to show me something'. Something came underneath her, pulled her up three feet up in the air and then vanished. She smashed on the snow, hand still clinging to the knife. Wukong was back in action.

'So much murder, so little time', he jumped forward and stood over Nadi, looking down at her squirming on the ground. 'I will need that', he quipped while taking the knife away from the weakened lich, 'It seems everyone here wants to kill this English scum'. He tossed the knife back to Jack with a smug smile on his face. 'Lets have a rematch', Sun pulled back his cloak, his tail snaking out and reflecting light from the moon - a short stump was followed by a series of sharp metal links, ending in a deadly-looking blade. It rose up in the air, ready to strike at Jack, a fitting end for such a lowly creatures. However before he could come close to Jack and deliver the killing blow, an explosive rocked the scenery and threw him off. Sun leaped in the air and turned to where he thought the shot came from. It was a man, or what remained of him, quickly regenerating from his injuries. His uniform was off, and you could clearly see his face - white as snow, black hair like the night, a thick beard grown down to his waist and those eyes - those dead, hollow eyes - looking right at your soul.

'Pashol Nahoy, Obezyana'. Another grenade fired out of the barrel aimed at monkey, and it failed to hit him again - he simply jumped away. He was circling around him, walking up to Jack and standing in front of the beaten London legend. 'Where did you come from?', he was eyeing the winter-soldier curiously, leaping back and away from the Russian Behemoth, teasing him all the while. 'You can't catch me!', he shouted at him, trying to provoke anger, 'You can't ever ca-', another explosion hit the ground next to Sun and the shock-wave sent him reeling back. Fighter planes swooshed over their heads, and the sound of approaching armored cars meant the arrival of more reinforcements. 'We will never surrender', the winter-soldier announced triumphantly, 'Never'. Wukong retreated back, taking a mental note of that mental Russian. He had to deal with him some day, so he could get to Jack without interruptions.

Four hundred yards away, Nadi barely got up to her feet and staggered away from the scene. Shenshen was still slumped on the red snow, breathing slowly. The place will soon be overrun with even more soldiers, and this time they lacked the element of surprise. This was a battle they lost, but the war will carry on. Nadi saved herself, while Shen was left in the scene. A day passed before Shen could stop playing dead and rise from the frozen snow. The stab wound was fatal, yet he didn't quite die from it.

Moscow, two days after the incident

'Sir', a high-ranking official saluted his superior, who was sitting with his back to him in a leather chair. They were standing in a massive hall, a fireplace cackling at the opposite wall. 'We have a report from the field', he continued anxiously, 'The operation failed, but we still have control over our assets. We have captured a specimen of the highest importance... and will begin research immediately'. The KGB hideout in the outskirts of Moscow was used mostly for briefings. 'I was told you will understand this', the agent stopped and prepared himself, then proceeded in a lousy Breton accent as he repeated the same words in French, 'We have Dracula'.

'Good', a single word came as a response.
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
[HEADING=1]Arc Five : Winter Soldier [/HEADING]​

[HEADING=2]"In America, you find the party. In Soviet Russia, The Party finds You"[/HEADING]​

Did Watergate happen yet?

Basement, West Berlin Dwelling

The meeting took place in the most heavily monitored city in Europe, a spitting distance away from the eastern block, in one of the hardest to reach places in the continent. If Utna had only wanted business, this was his way of saying it without using any words. The quality of the gathering itself was staggering. The costs of clearing the room, renovating it with antique furniture, hanging lost paintings and decorating it with rare artifacts. The food was comprised of delicacies and the drink was older than some of the immortals themselves - such high class was unheard of in recent meetings. This wasn't orchestrated by any immortal or even Utna himself - it was created by Marco for a certain purpose.

'My dear friends', Utna tapped his champagne glass with the end of a fork and called to attention the small crowd gathering in the party, 'My brothers and sisters, I welcome you'. He smiled widely and kept on appearances, even though it pained him to draw another breath. 'Enjoy this day to its fullest', all of the participants, numbering at roughly two score immortals and a couple of servants listened intently to Utna, 'For we have news of the future'.

Some immortals were decidedly missing - Mahmod was still unheard of, and Gerome disappeared as well. Anansi, who would have usually welcomed such a scene was nowhere to be seen. Gilles had dissipated into thin air decades ago. The club regulars seemed to dwindle with even new meeting, and the most perculiar incident was the disappearance of Shenshen, the hunter. Marco went out of his way to uphold appearances and keep the masquerade going, but without the old immortal he had no hand in the club's matters. All that was left for him was to throw money at the problem and hope it's enough to persuade it. His desperation grew apparent with the extravagance of the party itself.

'For many centuries we have stayed neutral and loyal to only ourselves', Utna scanned the room, looking for potential volunteers, just how Marco instructed, 'but we have recently discovered one of our own working for a major power. Not only did he reveal us, but he is abusing his...gift...', Utna cringed at the word, '...and killing innocents. We must contain him and drive him away from Russia'. The offer was set on the table, and everyone was free to take it up.
 

Baddamobs

New member
Aug 21, 2013
151
0
0
Screecher was glad she had arrived slightly early then planned. As usual.

She had rather enjoyed the walk through the bracing winter cold, having traveled to the city through a series of trains and cars. While all mortal settlements blended into one after a while, she had enjoyed this particular urban sprawl, chilling wind whipping through her tawny blonde hair and ruffling her long coat. She didn't know a lot of German (at least, none that wasn't old and archaic as dirt), but she knew enough to get by. Also enough to get the distinct feeling of...melancholy.

The rather infamous 'Berlin Wall' towered over, cutting a concrete shadow through the city. She had passed more then one resident staring at the stretch of grey with an unreadable expression. One or two had even openly wept. She briefly wondered about had been separated by that wall: human borders, a city, the alliance that had once been present during the war, homes, businesses, maybe even families...

...Ah, humans can be so creative in how they do things. Screecher's features twisted into a grin as she turned on her heel, the wall to her back, gloved hands in her pockets and the grey winter skies of Germany overhead. Why bother with just a wall of ideals and cultures? Just build the real thing. Ha ha ha...

She must have looked quite the sight: a tall woman, a eye-patch firmly placed around her left eye, grinning like a maniac in one of the most down beaten city of the last few years.

The Immortal paid the oddity of her appearance no mind. The poor saps around her would fade away, and she would go on: a mountain cared little for the pitiful longevity of it's inhabitants.

She had found the designated meeting point with little trouble, and had mingled with the other early arrivals for a time. She wanted to make her own sort of 'announcement,' but she could wait for a time. There was business to attend to, after all. Despite trying to keep afloat in Club affairs, she was still barely staying above the debt of many of the other members, and frequently found herself at a disadvantage when favors and connections were traded. Despite that, the Immortal could often be seen sporting an giddy kind of grin. None of the others knew what a simple joy the Immortal was getting with every blink of her concealed eye.

She had listened intently to Utna's announcement, and her bright grin turned up a few watts. She couldn't claim to know much about the enigmatic 'Marco,' only the few hints and mutterings from Shenshen and a few of the others. But she knew enough to know the figure didn't like to get his hands dirty, hence the reason Shenshen had become his enforcer. She couldn't claim to understand how exactly this operation worked, but it sounded an awful lot to Screecher like Marco was offering up a recruitment. With Shenshen gone, Marco had lost his main agent. Even if it was only until the old archer came back, Marco would probably appreciate any help he could get his hands on.

A perfect opportunity to wipe away some debt, I foresee. Screecher raised her brandy filled glass, if only to hide her conspiring grin.

She didn't just pale in comparison to Shenshen in combat; she was practically a ghost in comparison to most of the Club members in direct combat. A friendly sparring match with Idun had sent the Immortal sprawling. Hell, she remembered a time when Cadeyrn had managed to get the drop on her and actually managed to knock her out. That was a painful few years, more for her pride and her ears then it was for her head.

Still, her animal instincts hadn't completely left her, so she could claw and bite her way out of a scrap if she really needed to. Besides that, Marco was going to need all the eyes and ears he could muster.

And I just so happen to have a eye that's itching to do some seeing.

She would wait for the current time: no need to throw her hat into the ring before the others had made themselves known. Screecher nodded as she took another sip of burning alcohol, gloved hands curling around the glass.

Let's see the lay of the land before we go charging in...
 

Mr.Ivebeenframed

New member
Jan 6, 2011
1,483
0
0
Japan-a few days ago

The forest path was the same as she remembered after all this time. Wrapped in a leather coat, Ali made her way down the bamboo forest. A few signs and windchimes were there, held on signs or sometimes nailed on the bamboo itself. The chimes jingled as a breeze passed through the silent enclove. It was oddly befitting of him. Finally, she arrived at an unmarked stone grave in the middle of the bamboo forest. The stone headstone had weathered a bit after all these years and she patted the leaves that had accumulated on it but otherwise, it had stayed the same since she had put it there. The grave didn't need anything to remind Ali of him or his legacy. She could see him again, lying there and bleeding out among the leaves. Ali didn't even breath as she went to work. She removed some stones that had fallen on the grave, picked up some twigs that needed to be moved and generallly tidied up the little spot. He would have done the same if he was immortal and that was hard to say coming from a person like Ali. Another breeze rolled through the silent meadow, jingling the chimes again but this time Ali stood up from her work and looked at the grave.

So you are a God?

I am no God....

You say that yet you are there and I am here.

You are more of a God then I will ever be.

You say that yet I will be remembered than more than a traitor.... left to this silent grave. Yet I do not regret a single thing. I am at peace. When I see you in the next world then I hope you will be as well.

Ali never cried as hard as she did back then. Even with several arrows lodged in her back, none of them felt as painful as the one that had pierced her heart. Her parents scolded her for having such emotions with a mortal yet she discovered more about her immortality with him than she ever did with them. Ali remained silent and stoic at her friend's grave, staring deep at his grave almost trying to will him back to life with her glance yet nothing happened.

The recent events in Mexico drove her to Tibet once more after she had healed from her wounds. She talked to her parents once more but they only yielded puzzles and riddles yet again. The amulet had melted in her skin and she was sure she had expended all her powers battling the Ancient Gods so she was back to her old self. Even with that, she felt uneasy knowing what her parents wanted her to do. She felt their will through the amulet and even now she feels perpetually anxious. Only when in Japan did she begin to feel relaxed. This was a much needed vacation for her but like everything else in this world besides her, it was only temporary.

After she had cleaned his grave, Ali left the grave muttering her prayers to him hoping that it would reach the afterlife to him. She stayed in Kyoto for some time, living off the Japanese she had learned hundreds of years ago with varying degrees of success but it was mostly so she could find another friend. This one had made the Emperor's blades for hundreds of years and even the ones used by Yamato Takeru but after the government had reformed after World War 2, he saw no more reason to continue his craft. Miamura was more of a demi-god than an immortal yet he lived like her. He indulged in women and wine but he couldn't step foot outside of Japan, bounded to the land by some ancient pact. Ali would have lost her mind by now if she was Miamura. The last time she had seen the man, was after World War 2. With sad eyes, he recalled every detail of going through the ruins of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as he helped the same people that had tried to kill him time and time again.The atomic blasts had awoken his spirit once more so she hoped that he would more easier to find with the world on the brink of nuclear apocalypse.

In an ancient bar in the middle of Osaka, she finally saw the famous blacksmith. When she first met him, there were samurai lined down the street just hoping to make an inquiry from the legendary blacksmith himself. Now, he was trying to get a free drink using a senior-citizen card.

"Stalking your old hunting grounds again, Aki?" Miamura grunted, talking to her before she could even get a word off. "Did you at least visit his grave?

"As charming as ever it seems." Ali planted herself next to the blacksmith. He forever looked like a man entering his twilight years. Lines ran across his forehead, moles dotted his bald head and a gray mustached covered his upper lip. He looked like any old geezer to the ordinary person but Ali had seen the man at his prime and she didn't doubt he still had those powers. He just seemed to be wasting away and waiting for the next great catastrophe she he could leap out and help. "And yes, I went to Kazi's grave to pay my respects."

"If anything, you should give him the power to live again. I want to see his face when he sees the Tokyo today." Miamura said solemnly. "Are you sure you can't... you know... give your powers to other people through-"

"Yes old man, I'm sure." Ali giggled. "Believe I tried...especially with him."

"By the spirits...." Miamura put his hand to his face as Ali laughed. "Why did you leave me Kazi?"

"Anyway, I hope you are doing well." Ali said, calming herself down. "Japan has certainly been booming. I would say that it is reborn."

"Of course it has!" Miamura put his fist to the table. "Our spirit is like no other, you should know that of all people. This is a far cry from the daimyos and shoguns of old. It makes me feel utterly ancient."

"I can imagine." Ali said. "All that work you did was excellent in the name of the Japanese people. Are you still making swords?"

"Bah, don't remind me." Miamura waved his hands before taking a swig from his flask. "Swords have no place in today's world. It fills my heart with sadness but it is true. Those days are over."

"Not necessarily..." Ali said, beginning to divulge on what had happened in Mexico and filling the isolated Immortal with the acts of the others around the glove. Ali ordered several drinks just to convince Miamura to stay but the looks he gave her didn't exactly give her the best of hope. "You are the best blacksmith I know so I wonder if you still have any of your swords around."

"Even if I did, I would never let them be involved in your crazy affairs!" Miamura said, offended with her question. "Even if I agreed, I no longer have the tools or material I need to make you that of which you ask me to make. I made swords that mortals used to kill other mortals and not ones that kill Gods. Not only that but most of my swords are lost to time itself. They're either ten feet beneath the ground or in some collector's glass case. I am sorry but I cannot help you."

"These Immortals threaten all life, immortal or not. If they heard about you, what makes you think they won't go to Japan to find you? In fact, they could be coming right now and I wouldn't have anything to defend you with."

"Hah! I don't need you to defend me." Miamura said drunkenly. "Those Immortals that threaten you and friends' lives have obviously not fought against the likes of me."

"And what if they start killing the people of Japan? These ones don't display any qualm with killing indiscriminately and I know that neither of us can' t defend everybody at once. If they do reach Japan then they will find you and if not, they will kill everyone that has ever talked to you. They will kill everyone you have ever come in contact with. Me included but what of the innocents that walk these streets. We, as Immortals, have it as our duty to protect those that cannot live forever." Ali said, staring the blacksmith straight in the eyes. "Protecting the innocents... is that not in our code?"

"You speak of our code as if you still follow it." Miamura hissed at Ali before he put his hands at the table and pushed himself off. He began to make his way to the door before turning back to Ali. "I may have lost all my tools and my swords but I may have something to help you."

[hr]

West Berlin

Ali ran her index finger around the lip of the wine cup, making a light ringing sound as she listened to Utna's offer. Her mind was made up before she even touched down in Europe but she knew she had to officiate it with the others. The madness had to be stopped and they were ruining the balance that had been in meticulously placed by the Immortals of old. Not only that but if the entire world knew that exactly they were, it would make partying a little more difficult.

She wrapped leather jacket tighter, feeling a shiver run down her spine when Utna called them out to help end this once and for all although she doubted that containing him would be the end of it. She looked at other Immortals, wondering about their response but also keeping tabs of who was there and who wasn't. Shenshen was missing and so were a few others which was troubling, knowing that he was still around with the knife. At least this time, Ali had something to defend herself although it still paled in comparison with the knife. Screecher was sporting a eye-patch which raised her eyebrow when she first saw it. Ali was sure she would say something about that soon enough but first, Ali had to speak up.

"Aye, this has gone on for far too long." Ali spoke up. "The sooner we do something the better."
 

drmigit2

New member
Dec 25, 2008
1,195
0
0
Naditabirus? Journal. June, 1825

I have discovered a new island today; west of Peru. It is inhabited by a large group of people, who as far as I can tell, exist mostly by eating coconuts, fish and whatever else they can find. While I would normally find such an island to be unremarkable, this particular island had a fascinating development. At first, I could only vaguely see him, but on the coast of the island, the natives have kept an immortal in permanent sedation. I have no means of communicating with these islanders, but I find it fascinating that I have found yet another of my kind. I wonder what he did to deserve such a punishment, if anything. Mostly, he seems to be physically unmolested, which means they have found another means of disabling immortals. I must continue my research, starting with their language. I have captured one of the natives, and while she still refuses to talk to me, I think over the course of a few months, she will need verbal communication and when that happens, I will be able to learn the language before disposing of her.


November, 1825

The language of the natives is extremely simplistic, it took until now to fully learn it, but the woman I captured has effectively taught me the language, and I think I will be able to effectively talk with the other natives. I was very careful to ensure nobody saw me take her, and while I doubt they have explained her disappearance, it does not matter much. By now, they probably have forgotten all about her. Now that I know her language, she is merely a complication. So I tied a few rocks to her legs and dropped her off halfway to the island. I should be careful to ensure the club does not discover this, though many of them would probably approve of this. I personally received no pleasure in this, but it was necessary in order to achieve contact with the least amount of distractions.

December, 1825

It was difficult to gain acceptance into the tribe, even knowing their language. I spent a month within them, and some of them have grown quite attached, they are not sure exactly what I am, as my skin is a different color than theirs, and my accent is apparently a bit off. I should work on that in the future. Either way, I have managed to discover exactly what happened to the poor devil on the coast. It turns out that yes, he is an immortal. They call him a devil, sent to the island as a sort of burden that is theirs to keep, sent by the gods. They apparently have a natural growing plant, which when injected into the bloodstream, has massive narcotic effects which work in ways similar to the drugs I use, but on a much more lethal scale. The best translation I could give, is that they have given this devil ?the mojo?, which I think is appropriate. I offered to take him away, but they said that the gods had trusted them with the devil, and nobody else should be burdened with him. I think I will let them keep him, he could prove useful later, and if the club discovered his location, it would be difficult to use him later.



Gone, Vlad was gone, the knife was gone. She was gone. Naditabirus had exited Russian territory. She didn?t find Shen, she didn?t need him. This?Ripper, the Winter Soldier, and everyone else responsible for this, would pay. Naditabirus had bought a boat, and her destination was clear. She had not intended to do this?ever again really. He was technically her boss, and calling him was something that was best avoided. But, she needed him now, and he only worked based on human sacrifice. She had learned that lesson, it was how Naditabirus became the way she was. She sailed on her boat, AK-47 in tow.

The island had not changed much, the devil was still in his spot, bald as could be, his form tattooed now, apparently someone did not like him being plain. It did not matter, the flesh was unimportant, he would transcend flesh soon. Naditabirus was dressed in her old Babylonian garbs now, a black heavy garb that covered most of her body. As her boat landed, many of the islanders surrounded her, they pointed spears at her. She did not know these people, but spoke simply. ?Heaven has come to reclaim this Devil. You have done well, rejoice and receive our reward for your bravery.? Behind her, Naditabirus had taken a large amount of fruit from South America, it was in crates. The Islanders climbed onto her boat and investigated into the apples, bananas and other fruits she had brought. They took the fruit and nodded as Naditabirus lifted the man from the shore. The tails of her dress became wet, but she did not notice. She needed this one, and in the end had managed to gather him without violence.

Naditabirus helped the islanders unload the rest of the fruit, and left the island to the cheers of the natives. They probably expected more fruit, but in the end, they had enough. Perhaps with all the extra ?mojo?, they would just spend the rest of their days high on?whatever that plant was. Looking at the native, she had an idea to perhaps make some of the juice herself. Who knows how long he had been sedated by it? It was clearly effective. The Lich threw the devil inside a coffin which she dragged from the bottom of her boat, bolted it shut and set sail for Iraq, her home.

Iraq was always in flux, never quite staying how she remembered it. But somewhere beneath all of the war, all of the civilization and science that she had participated in, there was Babylon. Somewhere inside it, was the madman she had imprisoned. He would stay put, even this situation was not desperate enough to warrant releasing him. That one made Jack look like a kindly gentleman. Naditabirus had difficulty remembering many of the names from her past, but Fromanzio was a name she would never forget. Luckily, he was buried on the opposite side of Babylon, and her temple was in a fringe enough location to where she was able to put a lab inside it without taking too much attention. Southern Iraq was mostly desolate, and while her lab was technically outside of where Babylon is officially located, it was still under the influence of the great city.

The car Naditabirus brought her traveler in was a dark green, a Jeep built for offloading capabilities, the terrain was purposefully treacherous, and walking would just take far too long now. The coffin was in her back seat, and looked back and nodded. He was stirring a bit now, for the first time in?she really didn?t know. He spoke out in a tribal language, he wanted to know what was happening. Naditabirus did not answer, she only told him that much time had passed, and that nobody knew who he was. He stayed silent and she continued to drive.

The devil inside her coffin did not stir much as she stopped her Jeep. It was weird to her, but in the end not particularly consequential. He was not even human to her, anymore. Just a tool to reach her goal. Almost like Jack when she had the knife. Naditabirus contemplated talking to the devil, to see what he did. She had figured most of it out by now, he probably saw his immortality as a free pass to do anything. An invitation to destruction, to that damned laughter. Naditabirus saw too much of Fromanzio in the devil. She walked inside of her laboratory, which was really just a small latch in the middle of the desert, which led to stairs that eventually expanded into a large temple. She had built it thousands of years ago, it was where she committed her original rituals as a mortal. Her followers had come with her down these steps.

The lab inside was simple, she had built it in the year five hundred, and had moved past it a long time ago. Certain journals were tossed about, but she spent little time caring for them. She had far outgrown her uses for any of the knowledge inside. The middle of the temple had a pedestal dedicated to human sacrifice, and she set the coffin directly on top of the slab. She would need the devil to be touching the slab for this to work, so Naditabirus reached for a few needles, and stuck them out. As she unbolted and opened the coffin a tattooed hand came bolting out, but found itself stuck with at least three needles, all with super concentrated Heroine inside. Naditabirus? own mojo juice. She flung the coffin open and watched as the man twitched in an odd mixture of pain and ecstasy as his brain dealt with the innumerable number of signals being dealt to it, before once again returning to a big sleep. The Lich slipped him onto the slab and went back into her car to grab a bag. Inside the bag was a number of candles, a few knives and some chalk. But mostly, it had a book, which inside contained the same words in ancient Babylonian that she had once spoken thousands of years ago. As Naditabirus lit the candles, she could not help but feel reminiscent of how she had come to be.

She had gathered a least twenty others, all as dedicated as her in their quest to understand and control death. They had conducted innumerable experiments on animals, humans and anything else they could find, but it was not enough. Naditabirus had spent years discovering this scroll, the words to summon Pazuzu, the king of all demons. He had to know, and she just needed enough of a sacrifice to keep him sated. She had told the others that the pile in the middle, of sacrificed goats and sheep would appease Pazuzu, but she knew better.

The chalk line that was drawn around the pedestal to death was intricate and complex, she had practiced this, and was ready. The words spoken were difficult for even her closest disciples to understand, as they were not human in nature. She had memorized the scroll and yelled it aloud. The best translation she had given to the others was available to them, but even that lacked the true meaning of the words.


?ILL SABAB AH RAKIN, TO NUK TOA. PAZUZU AS RENIN, PAZUZU AS RENIN!?

The chant was short, but in front of Naditabirus, once again the King of demons stood. She had done it all correctly, around her, she could almost remember the names of those who Pazuzu had slaughtered. They were unimportant, she needed to know the secrets of death. Now, she needed his aid. Pazuzu was a massive creature, with a slick body. He stood seven feet tall in front of her, and had massive talons. His head was an odd combination of a lion and a hawk, with red glowing eyes. He had two large wings. His talons were dug deep into the devil, who even despite his drug induced coma, began to scream and writhe under the demon.

He cocked his head and said ?Naditabirus? It has been a long time. Have you discovered what you seek yet??

Naditabirus shook her head. ?I am approaching another key, yet I have come across?a complication. I need your aid, and he is the one I will trade for it.?

Pazuzu looked down as the devil?s wounds healed. ?Immortals are a fantastic delicacy, not usually worth the headache. Are you sure he will not be missed??

Naditabirus nodded. "No one will seek revenge for his disappearance. This, I promise.?

The demon smiled and the devil below him turned into an odd mass of flesh and bone. He screamed louder than anything Naditabirus had previously heard, before eventually being absorbed into Pazuzu. She knew he was invincible, just like the demon god in front of her, but where he went, Naditiabirus did not want to know.

?So, Lich. You have paid me with a life, and now I owe you one life in return. ? Pazuzu?s eyes glowed in the light as he whispered ?What is his name??

?He calls himself the Winter Soldier.? Naditabirus began. ?I do not yet know his identity, but I need your aid. I shall bring him to you, and when I do.?

Pazuzu nodded. ?Then let it be done.? He slowly turned ethereal and began to fly above Naditabirus. His smile grew wide as he sniffed the air. ?It has been a long time since I visited your plane, Lich. I think this will be an acceptable arrangement. I shall aid you in the destruction of this Winter Soldier, and until this is done, I am bound to your plane.?

The next day, at the club.

As Naditabirus walked to the meeting, she noticed Pazuzu begin to look around. He was flying further and further away, always returning but seeming to scout around. Nobody else could see him, that was what he had said, and she believed it. After all, one look at this guy and people would be fleeing to another country! Still, she had to wonder what he was thinking. Pazuzu flew to Naditabirus and looked at the sky.

?I forgot to mention something, Lich.?

Naditabirus looked immediately annoyed. ?And what is that??

?Your sacrifice binds me to this plane, for a time. But not to you.? Pazuzu?s eyes glowed a horrifying green. ?As long as you continue to sate me with sacrifices, I suppose I could..stick around, but if you don?t, I might decide to wander.?

Naditabirus instantly recognized what Pazuzu meant. She stared out into the city and stopped walking. A sacrifice every day? She would need to move fast, she couldn?t continue to kill people for this god. Not forever, she would have to bring up the Winter Soldier at the first meeting possible. Pazuzu looked pleased with himself and stayed close to Naditabirus. He spoke one last time, ?Of course, I won?t want anything happening to my diligent worker, so if anyone comes to harm you?I might throw in a helping hand.? What that meant, she really had no idea. Summoning Pazuzu was a horrible idea, but she needed an ally. There were too many loose ends here, and this guy knew how to tie them up.

Naditabirus quickly reached the meeting spot and stayed relatively silent. Pazuzu wandered around for a while, surveying the immortals. Naditabirus paid him little mind and instead watched the meeting. When it was clear she could speak, she said.

?It seems our interests align for once, Marco. I will help you this time, but let me make this clear. Cross me like you did in Tibet, and we will have a problem.? Pazuzu snapped over to Naditabirus. He wondered what the she was talking about. He could also see the desire for something else in her eyes. It was important. The demon king smiled, the devil Naditabirus had delivered to him began to kick around in his belly. It would soon be time to kill him again.
 

JoJo

and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Goat 🐐
Moderator
Legacy
Mar 31, 2010
7,170
143
68
Country
🇬🇧
Gender
♂
Cadeyrn dug eagerly into the delicacies provided, a piece of pie clutched in his left hand whilst his right scooped out pâté with a spoon. He had to admit they were worth the effort it had taken to reach the isolated enclave, not that he'd miss a Club meeting if he could help it. His preferred method of ad-hoc hitch-hiking was ruled out by the tight border controls between West and East Germany, and then again between the East and West Berlin, so instead he'd taken a flight from London, via Hamburg. This had in turn required the acquisition of yet another forged passport, a ritual that had to be repeated every few years since his claimed age quickly became out of sync with his appearance and as much as he wished otherwise, there was no way he'd ever be able to pass himself off as a teenager. Therefore with the help of a handy adult immortal, Michael Hunt, born 1962, Citizen of the United Kingdom and Colonies, had conspicuously made his way through several airports whilst struggling to avoid smirking every time his passport was checked.

As Utna spoke Cadeyrn's mind wandered back over a thousand years, to another scene like this. When he'd lived so long it was hard not to experience deja vu, especially when much of that time had been shared with the same group of people. Last time the meeting had been held in an open air arena, around the circle that was now known as Stonehenge. A group of cloaked figures stood or sat idly, talking among themselves in various tongues. Maybe Screecher had been there or maybe not, Cadeyrn couldn't recall now.


"For many centuries we have stayed neutral and loyal to only ourselves", Utna scanned the clearing, leaning back against the giant stone behind him. 'but we have recently discovered one of our own working out in the open. He calls himself King Arthur and not only has he revealed himself, but he is abusing his...gift...', Utna cringed at the word, 'Cadeyrn here has confirmed for us that he has been consorting with dark powers. We must contain him and this threat before it is too late,"

"If I may say a word," an old bearded man rose up to speak in a quavering voice, "Arthur is not perfect but he is our people's last hope against the Saxons, our nation will be washed away if we lose. Are you to condemn my people?" he shot Cadeyrn an accusing glance as he said this.

"You know the rules Myrddin," Utna replied coldly, "We do not intervene in mortal affairs, however well intentioned the cause. Besides, old powers have been brought into this, the whole world could be at stake if they are not nipped to the bud now," he nodded to Memnon, who stepped forward to place a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, "If you will not cease assisting Arthur, you too will be imprisoned alongside him,"

"No!" Myrddin shouted feebly as he was carried off by the strong man. Utna sighed and turned back to the motley gathering.

"Who among you will help end this threat?" he said loudly. Cadeyrn put up a hand, the words on his tongue no different from those he would speak over a thousand years later in West Berlin, except for the language they would be spoken in.

"What's in it for us?" he asked simply.
 

PlastikThief

New member
Jun 15, 2014
22
0
0
Shanna?s attendance at the meeting had so far gone unnoticed. The heavy robes and veil that obscured their body and face, along with their recent penchant for staying as silent and as far back as possible in company, made the sudden close attention that Utna?s audience was giving themselves somewhat anxiety inducing. The proposition was as same-y as it used to be: Rogue immortal, dealing damage where they shouldn't be for everyone else benefit, so we gotta deal with them.

Too close, for Shanna, too close to last time.

~Tijuana, years ago~

The pain was immense, transcending all of Shanna?s experiences, all of their knowledge and secrets and tactics for dealing with feelings beyond what a normal mortal should feel. Ashen tongues flecked with fire licked at their skin, tearing and charring, carbonising and killing the flesh.

Shanna couldn't tell if they were screaming, or if they could, and soon enough it didn't matter because the flesh was in their throat, burning, pulsing with the immortal life that fire once gave them. Shanna knew this was wrong, that it was so, so wrong. Unclean, blasphemy, god-awful heathen fucking unholy Naditabirus level of questionably evil acts.
It was all Shanna could do but to chew, choke, swallow, and let go of their body.

~Days Later~

Shanna was home, finally. Alexandria was not the same as it once was, but the city still breathed life into the immortal?s tired, beaten frame. The sun was bearable beneath their light robes, and a sweet wind whipped off the ocean, lightening Shanna?s mood even further. The people were friendly enough, and Shanna chatted amicably with the old men on the waterfront and the young ladies in their skirts and short tops, catching eyes and marking potential liaisons.

Shanna?s destination was the small plateau of land where the library had once towered over the populace. The Librarian could still taste the smoke, still feel the flames as they crawled towards them, though whether that was from their most recent run-in with otherworldly flame, or just the painful memories prior to their death and rebirth was hard to say.

As they stood there, the salt wind light and welcoming, Shanna made themselves a promise. Till the next urgent meeting, till the next worldwide danger called them together, the librarian would stay here, in their city, their home. Shanna exposed their raw wounds to the sun, bloody ooze still dripping from the open injuries. The liquid fell like tar to the ground and the moisture quickly evaporated, leaving a messy stain on the earth. A promise, an oath. No contact, no talking. Self-love, self-help. No one had been what they had been through. Eating one?s own burning immortal flesh was not something you could bring up in a general conversation group.

Now, West Berlin

Stepping out of the shadows that they had secreted themselves in, figuratively and literally, Shanna pulled the veil from their face, exposing the tracery of scar-work that lined their face like cobwebs. But beneath the carefully applied makeup, the scars burned ashen, like paper crumpling in on itself as it nears a flame.
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
Afghani-Soviet border, 1970

Two men were riding a pair of mules on a steep mountain pass at the break of dawn, holding tightly to their leashes least they fall down the ravine to their right. The Afghan mountains ware littered with difficult and treacherous roads to traverse, but it was kept mostly unguarded. If you survived the trip, which wasn't too difficult with the help of a local guide, you could find yourself in Moscow in a month. That was what the weary traveller was after - but the city of Moscow wasn't his final destination. It was only the beginning of his travels.

'Come to Russia, they said', the foreigner spoke with himself in an old language, 'Do your part, they said'. He was irritated and bitter, his words piercing the cold air like daggers. 'I don't care what happened in Mexico', he continued, 'but it wasn't half as bad as going through all of Kara fucking Kum'.

'Gara-Gum', another voice answered, the guide who rarely spoke. He was a local Tajik herder living in a country that pretends he doesn't exist. A small, thin and dark-skinned man, garbed in loose fitting traditional clothes in vibrant colors, always keenly watching the horizon. He spoke in the local tribal Tajiki tongue.

'I don't care what this piece of dirt is called', the foreigner responded angrily. He had enough of the shit hole he was trapped in. Nothing but stale gruel to eat and his mule for company. He was a tall man, thin and muscular, his skin black as tar, long braids on his head dangling to his knees. The foreigner had just experienced the straw which broke the camel's back. The guide felt the same.

'Do not insult my land', he stopped his mule and stared directly at his dark eyes,'foreigner'. The air around them was thick with tension.

'Fuck your land, and fuck yourself', the foreigner returned the deadly gaze, 'I paid you to bring me across'. There was the sound of metal scraping against leather.

'Here you are, across', the guide pointed North down the slope to he seemingly endless desert, 'land of the Russians. Here you will pay for your insult'. The sword flashed in the light of the rising son, a bloody range of mountains barely able to hide it.

'Let me guess', the foreigner answered sarcastically, 'pay with blood?'. The sword came down, striking his neck with great force, seperating head from body. A gush of blood left the stump of a neck, and the tourist remained seated in his mule. Then his dead legs started turning the mule around, his dead hands shot up to grab at the sword and Anansi pulled the guide out of his seat, bashing him on the rocky ground below and down the ravine. A faint voice screamed in the distance,'and fuck your mother!'.
 

TheIronRuler

New member
Mar 18, 2011
4,283
0
0
West Berlin

Utna was tired of this world. His breaths grew heavy and stopped periodically. His movement was limited and slow. His words were often kept to himself. He had to drag himself a little longer, just a little more, until he could release himself from these chains of life. The parties interested in his offer spoke up, and he noticed them all.

The first-born spoke first, an unholy union of undeserved power. All had been given to her since birth. She had not wrestled with gods or fought with entire armies. She did not craft dark spells or visit other plains. All she had done to deserve her curse was being born - and Utna pitied her the most. She had never known the true meaning of death. She had never truly experienced fear before. Ali spoke, agreeing with Utna. He wondered whether she undestood the dealings in today?s mortal world, or whether she merely parroted his words.

?I take it you volunteer, Ali?, her name rolled off his tongue lazily. Oh, how he hated uttering it.

The second one was the mad woman, the dark sorcerer, the devil in disguise. Such a twisted and unstable character would have been imprisoned long ago had she not proven herself surprisingly useful. Her name was Naditabirus and her origins came closer to Utna than the others. She dealt with darker powers than he, but they were both close to the beginning. They saw the madness which enveloped the world of man and ruled it, yet decided to carry on. She had been a thorn in the side of the establishment, but before Marco, and before the club, she was a free-spirit, like the rest of them were. Just like how Utna used to be. Today she offered her services, but always for a price, carrying a warning with it. Tibet, that land from long ago, with the high mountaintops and lush valleys hidden in myth, holding the secrets of Shangri-La within. She couldn?t have taken it for herself, no? she couldn?t have controlled it. Somethings are meant to stay hidden, and out of sight.

?That was for your own good, Naditabirus. Your unique, albeit reckless presence will be most certainly welcomed, as long as you remember your place?.

The third was a new child, a fly in comparison to the oldest of the deathless entities. He was an arrogant boy, even looking the child in his features - the immortality having stopped his growth at the age of sixteen or seventeen. Full of contradictions, his skinned is torn and full of inscriptions in foreign letters from a dead language, now revived, praising a faith which condemns him.Such is the nature of the boy in the modern age, and his continued existence is a quest to come into terms with those contradictions.

?I will go?, Emanuel spoke up among the crowd, dressed in tight-fitting, torn clothes. He kept himself in the corner for the entire evening and avoided eating any of the food and drink that were served.

?We will not need children?, Utna answered in contempt, ?and there are no-?, he looked around and caught the attention of several known immortals, ?-Germans, around there?.

Last of the bunch was another child - though only appearing as a boy, this one had lived longer than most of the immortals in the room, and had the stranger of origins. He seemed to float in space and time, his memories playing tricks on his mind - such a familiar feeling on Utna?s part, and that of many others.

?Straight to the point, as always?, Utna forced himself to grin and repeated what he was told, ?You will be rewarded by our esteemed sponsor. He has many...ties. Debts can be paid for and forgiven. Information can be found out. Artefacts can be restored. Everyone has their price?.

"Could he help me find... a mortal?" Cadeyrn asked slowly in reply, careful not to say too much. After spending another fruitless year in the Middle East, even with Rin's lead he was beginning to feel he'd hit a dead end again. If anyone had the connections to find the lost woman in the photograph, it would be Marco.

'Fancy a girl, Cadeyrn?', Utna said mockingly, clicking his toungue in a disapproving manner, 'It can be arranged. Your skills of infiltration are most... required'.

"I will offer my aid," Shanna spoke, firey scars lighting up everyother syllable. "If only for a chance to catch up with some of you." They smiled at the assembled immortals, and then winced as their skin pulled and the scars tightened in ways they shouldn't.

Pazuzu?s head snapped at Utna, Naditabirus could hear an unearthly cracking as he did it.  The Demon?s eyes grew wide and began to glow a greenish tint.  He floated above Utna and began to examine the man.  Naditabirus largely ignored Utna?s prattling, the man was a puppet, and both of them knew it.  She had long lost respect for him, and he viewed her as a liability.  Perhaps his strings might end up cut if she ran around free too long, and then who would guide him?  Naditabirus secretly hated Utna, she hated everything he stood for.  The shackling of immortals, because they were just so inconvenient for Marco.  It would be easier for him if they just all disappeared into boxes one day.  Utna would probably sing praises to his own coffin before Marco stuffed him in one.

The demon king turned to Naditabirus and said softly.  ?He threatened you, how interesting.  Why do you allow him to do so?  Are you afraid of this one??  Naditabirus remembered the punch Utna had delivered to her a few years back, she still owed him repayment for it, but that would come later.  She muttered a few ancient curses under her breath, which while gibberish to most people, who would assume she is just being grumpy about Utna, meant something entirely to Pazuzu.  His eyes grew wide and he smiled.

?So that?s the situation then??  Pazuzu said excitedly.  ?I wonder what you shall do then, Lich.  It seems as if shackles draw ever nearer.?  Naditabirus did not turn to Pazuzu, but simply sat down and began to plan out how to get the knife, and a sacrifice.  She felt a little ill about it all.

"Whoever said it was girl?" Cadeyrn shot back at Utna, sticking out his tongue in mock disgust. The old immortal seemed to know a little too much for his liking. He stuffed the remainder of the pie in his mouth, spitting out crumbs as he continued, "Fine, I'll help. Who are we fighting anyway?"

"Surely someone who is more powerful and better equipped for danger that us." Shanna remarked, expression stormy. "I wouldn't want to be wandering in blind, that would be such an unfortunate repeatition of circumstances." The Librian eyed Utna closly.

"Ha! Our enigmatic Shanna speaks the truth." Screecher, bursting with confidence, loudly speaking to the room at large with a wide grin. "It once again sounds like a bit of risky operation, and I doubt this time we're going to have any off hours."
The ex-owl stuck a pose of holding her chin in one hand while the other rested on her hip. It looked foolish to everyone in the room but her, though she seemed unaware as she again loudly announced,
"And I suppose I can't just let you unforunate lot be alone for longer then five minutes without guidence, especially Cadeyrn, so you can count me in, Utna."
In all honesty, if the other Immortal hadn't added that part about clearing up debts, Screecher would have backed away and let what other fools there were in the room take care of it, but considering this was the perfect chance she had been looking for, it wasn't as if she could just turn it down. Absently scratching at the strap of her eye-patch (damn thing was itchy!), Screecher could barely keep her smirk down. She had a good feeling about this.

Ali glanced over to Screecher who seemed oddly optimistic about this endeavor. Despite knowing her for this long, she didn't know if she should worry or feel hopeful so Ali straddled both as she always did. Meanwhile, Utna teased Caderyn once again which Ali couldn't help but smirk at. After all this time, Ali could feel the animosity that Utna had towards some Immortals which she could sympathize with yet not truly comprehend. The others shared the same feeling but towards him as well.

"I'm sure we can handle it." Ali said with her usual playful banter as she always did. "But I am curious as to what we are up against. After all, I'm sure we all remember the last time we went into a plan without any sort of idea concerning opposition."

"More like your feathery arse needs guidance, from me!" Cadeyrn shot back at Screecher, disgruntled that yet again many of the grownup immortals seemed content to bat him between themselves like a ping pong ball.

"Oh ha, ha, Cadeyrn." A little humour left the ex-owl's eye, as she looked across the room at the shorter Immortal. "Need I remind you that you sucessfully got distracted MOMENTS into our last little escapade? If I could believe that you won't show a similar level of absent-mindedness, which I don't, I doubt you could pull another drastic escape option out of thin air."
She shifted her weight to her other foot, a sneer starting on her features.
"If you insist on coming along, fae, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way; it'll make the whole thing easier for the both of us."

The demands kept on coming from all of the interested parties, clamoring for more information. There was only so much Marco knew himself, and only a few strands ever reached Utna's ears. Just like always, he had rehearsed those lines before hosting the club meeting. It seems that he had become quite the figurehead, but he didn't mind. He would give anything to end this suffering.

'Don't panic', he smiled pleasantly, 'there is an immortal calling himself the winter soldier. He had been working for the Societ Union for some time. Our first priority is to find him, learn his identity and introduce him to the club. Perhaps if he understands he is not alone, and that he belongs with us, he will stop associating with mortals'.

'What if he refuses?', Emanuel asked from the back, standing on top of a chair to see through the crowd of immortals.

'You force him to comply with our demands', Utna fired back without hesitation, 'with every means at your disposal'.

"Every means?" Ali said, with interest although it would be hard convincing an Immortal if there was no way to truly kill him. They had done it before but it required more effort than what she was used to. "Why do I have a feeling that you know less about him than we do? An Immortal that wants to dabble in the realm of mortals is nothing new. There's something more to him than you are letting on. A location would be a step in the right direction."

"That's fine by me, owl," Cadeyrn retorted angrily, rising up to his full four feet of height, "I don't need some bird messing up my plans anyway, I work better alone," He folded his arms and stood in a pose he'd seen recently on a detective show on the BBC, glaring at Screecher in a way he imagined would impress the others. He only wished he had the right hat to go with it.

'There's always more than what meets the eye, miss Ali', Utna spoke suggestively, reminding her of fresh memories, 'as you would know. We gathered here for a reason - it is the point where east and west are the closest, and from here you will travel east - to Poland, his last known location. You will track him down and bring him our ultimatum. Don't worry about information - we have our sources'.

Utna ignored the bickering between the two immortals and counted those interested in the job. 'Past the wall, through Germany and into Poland. Piece of cake'.

"Past the wall?" Ali said with a quizzical expresion. "Security is a tad tight here don't you think?" Ali got up, straightening her leather jacket out before taking another sip of her drink. She moved towards Caderyn, ruffling up his hair once more as she approached him trying to look intimidating.
"Cade, any suggestions on trying to get over that piece of concrete they call the Berlin Wall?" Ali said, looking to Caderyn for any suggestions instead of making fun of him like the other Immortals usually did. "I hate calling that dreadful thing a wall, you know. Chinese peasants would laugh themselves dead looking at the thing."

"Well, people normally go over the other way," Cadeyrn chuckled in reply to Ali, looking across the other immortals with the pointed exception of Screecher, "Sometimes Westerners can get visas to go into East Berlin but I don't think our fakes would be convincing enough, we'd be watched like hawks even if we somehow persuaded them to let us in anyway and we'd never get as far as Poland," he rubbed his chin in thought, "I've heard of people jumping out of buildings or even flying a balloon across the wall but we'd be caught as soon as we landed by the Stazi if we tried that..."

The young fae paced up and down for a few seconds, glancing around the room as if looking for inspiration.

"I know!" Cadeyrn exclaimed suddenly, "There is the River Spree! Lots of people have drowned there trying to cross the border, but that won't be a problem for us," he flashed a quick grin, "If we swam along the bottom of the river under the cover of night, I bet none of the patrol boats would even notice we were there. Bring some sharp pliers along and the chain link fences they put down wouldn't be a problem. We'd have to pick the right point to cross as the wall runs along most of the eastern side, there are places which are less watched though," He looked excitedly at the others. "What do you think?"

Screecher scoffed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"A lack-luster plan that fails to even consider more safer options, and one that could easily end with us all stuck at the bottom of a damn river. Exactly the kind of plan I'd expect from you, Cadeyrn."
"Really?" The fae whipped around, his bright eye's blazing. "Well, what's YOUR suggestion, bird?"
Screecher drew herself up to her own full height, a cocky grin plastered on her face.
"Well, that's easy, we just..."
A second of silence.
"...We...just need a..."
A few seconds of silence broken by a stifled laugh.
Screecher suddenly became extreamly interested in the tiled flooring.
Subterfuge had never been her strong suit. Indeed, if a problem couldn't be solved with somekind of more conventional tatics, technique or even just strong arming, the ex-owl was at considerable backstep.
She felt, more then saw, a certain fae child beaming a bright smirk.
"...So, we should order some diving gear, or are forgoing that entirely?" Screecher eventually coughed, praying the lighting hid her face doing it's best tomato impression.

'Great idea, Cadeyrn!', Emanuel came closer to the small boy - even though he was only a child, he didn't seem that small compared with Emanuel, who was only a few years his senior, had they been both mortals. 'I-', the realization he brought himself to the center of attention dawned on him, 'I think we should head out tonight, under dark. It will be harder for them to spot us. We should also-', he looked around the room, staring at the old ceremonial clothes, the tattered outfits, the decades old outdated wardrobes, '-dress accordingly'. He gave off a meek smile. Emanuel himself was wearing a tight fitting coat and a pair of black trousers, seemingly accustumed to the dark weather.

Cadeyrn smiled up at Emanuel, appreciative of the fellow young immortal's support.

"And clothes that will dry quickly, once we get out the other side, at-least until we can find some more, "

He turned back to Screecher to answer her question.

"Depends," he replied with a ghoulish grin, "Do you mind drowning repeatedly, again and again?"

"I-I was being sarcastic!" Screecher, her good mood now entirely evaporated, felt her fists tighten at her sides. In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not."Besides, I had to make sure, considering a absentminded CHILD like you might have just over looked that entirely!"
Almost without even looking, the ex-bird swiped a bottle of some kind of liquor off one of the severing tables (a rather pleasent kind of German booze or ale that bubbled warmly in the pit of her stomach), and retreated to the back of the room, throwing her voice over her shoulder as she went.
"Count me in whatever insane plan you all cook up, I'm going to get a minute of damn peace at the back."
She collapsed with a huff into one of the chairs at the rear of the room, her one eye staring moodily across the room. Her little 'annoucement' was going to have to wait until a more opportune time.

'It's settled', Utna congragulated the group of volunteers. 'Our contact will see you in Poland. Stay on the railroads'.

'Who should we expect in Poland?', Emanuel asked curiously.

'Someone old'.

How very specific...

Screecher huffed from her place in the back, her one visable eye rolling.

Can we go a few years without a Immortal deciding to make a bother of themselves? You would have thought we'd all be tired of it by now. Then again, the monotony would proably be the real problem...

It was only now, in the out of the way corner, that Screecher noted the oddity of Naditabirus's apperence. The ex-owl locked onto the Immortal's form in the crowd, Naditabirus appearing oddly aggitated, like a knat kept flying near her ear. A few others had noted her arrival, but Utna's offer was clearly far too much in the forethought of their minds. It proably helped that Naditabirus had an unfortunately frequent habit of disappearing off the face of the world, only to emerge a few mesely years later. They were all probably used to the odd being turning up at the most bizarre times.

However, it suddenly clicked in Screecher's head that Naditabirus was likely the last one to have seen Shenshen, who was curiously still absent. While not the most 'forthcoming' (apart from maybe attempting to out the club: they were all still mighty sore about THAT incident), surely she would report back on his status now that they were trying to find his replacement.

Screecher waited. And waited. Despite Utna clearly wrapping up for the night, likely to go drown himself in booze for a few blissful hours, the enigmatic Immortal didn't stir from her spot.

...This suddenly got worrying.

Screecher was half-way out of her chair to confront the other Immortal on her silence, but after hovering off her chair for a second, she eventually sunk back down, a troubled expression crossing her face. Maybe it wouldn't be best to approach the other Immortal here, in this crowded space. Maybe it would be better to wait until they could find a quiet moment, and hash out whatever the hell was going on?

Besides, Screecher nodded to herself. I'm sure if there was anything SERIOUSLY wrong, she'd let us know. I mean, how much trouble could Shenshen be in...?
 

Frission

Until I get thrown out.
May 16, 2011
865
0
21
Notes:
Poland specifically Warsaw. It has changed. 10:32.


The small hole in the wall served as a bar and was generally patroned by tired workers. Radicals, policemen and more dubious characters met in here and beggars slept near the entrance. This night three men were smoking in the back of a crowded bar.

"You're being paranoid Dominik" said the first men between puffs of his cigarettes.

"I'm telling you I'm being followed! Sometimes I hear footsteps behind me when I'm walking home and when I come back the furniture has been moved. Sometimes windows are slightly ajar, a pan is out on the stove when it shouldn't be, drawers are slightly opened." Poor Dominik.

"Aren't you just being forgetful, then?" the first men continued.

"I noticed things like that! Shut up, just ... just it's true" Dominik's voice broke at this moment and his hands started shaking.

The third men looked around the bar and then sat close to Dominik "Hey, have you been doing something that the government wouldn't like? They may be tapping your place or maybe they're just trying to intimidate you. Gomulka doesn't come hard on people, but I've been hearing that you've been meeting up with some moskalik" The third men spat out the last word like a curse. Dominik just shuddered and nodded, the third men then motioned to the first men to stand in front of them as they discussed something. When they were done the men got up, told the barmen that to put it on their tab and went out.

A few moments another men, dressed in the clothes of a worker got up and followed them. He kept a quiet distance behind them, only approaching when Dominik's companions left him. When Dominik cut through an alleyway, as he always did the figure followed quickly behind. A few moments later there was a scream and then silence.

Figures moved out of the darkness. "You were right Eliasz, that guy was way too clean to be a worker. He might even be KGB" Dominik breathed a sigh of relief". The third men, Eliasz nodded and then started dragging the body away. Dominik was in such a good mood that he even gave a beggar some zloty on his way home and whistled as he opened his door. In the entryway he chuckled and took out some papers with some information the Winter Soldier had asked of him. He knew simply too much.

His laughter died as he saw the beggar standing in the hallway.

I'm sorry.
Goodbye Dominik.

A cold city

Shenshen walked out of the home, folders clutched between his filthy clothes. As he did so he idly munched on some food that he had pilfered from the larder.

He walked down the streets of Warsaw, down paths that were though entirely destroyed during the Second Great War, down the remains of the Deluge and into the very bowels of his old home. There he opened the folder and read the contents and then attached it to a giant board. Photographs, articles, words, documents and even sketches were pinned to the board, connected together by dirty pieces of string. In the center there were pictures of several men and women including: Vlad, Jack, Ananti (with a small note on the account of a mysterious death) and the most mysterious figure of them all: The one known as the Winter Soldier.

Shenshen smiled on his work and then went to sleep on his rags, while dreaming of better times, when he was known as Hamza, Hellsing, Le Châtelain, Aksakov and Gantulga. There he dreamed of castles, rolling hills, warm summers and gigantic feasts.