Ryan sent Gremlin to follow Kishima and drew Wrath, he backed up enough to be able to get clear shots on the approaching clones.
~~
By the time he was sure everyone had enough time to leave, he was weak from stitching his wounds closed and sealing his armour.
He ran until he saw Gremlin pulling Kishima towards the exit. Wounded or dead, wounded or dead, no time to check, assume critical...
He jabbed him with a syringe, grabbed him, put him over his shoulders and ran for the trees.
Ah. Yeah, I was thinking that you'd want to chime in before my next move, so I was waiting on that. I'll just continue until otherwise yes? I'll be posting my part within the next 24 hours
Sorry ?bout that. Something came up and I had to deal with it. Here?s my post now.
Sinclair grimaced, considering their moves.
They?d be aware of him being an Illrian now, so transformation would not be applicable. The chemical would be brought within effective range too quickly for that to occur as well. As such, he had to rely on his Imperiomancy once more, something he?d been doing far too many times for his comfort.
He chose to be economical with his powers. He transmitted a wave of confusion to all three Silent Ones, giving him time to draw out his machine pistol and unload 20 bullets into the skull and spine of the one holding the chemical. The others responded predictably, drawing their weapons, and would have ran towards him if he had not sent an illusion of their now dead fellow at them.
Sinclair closed the distance, raising his hand again to fire his pistol into the gut of one, causing him to lurch his upper body downward instinctually. He then grabbed his hair and brought his knee up to the clone?s chin. The resulting bloody mouth was then fit with the handful of hair that Sinclair had ripped out of the man?s head, and he was thrown bodily into the other Silent One before he could come to his fellow?s aid. The Black Nail sneered as he clapped his hands.
Both of the Silent Ones were immediately engulfed with Hellfire, initially coming out of the beaten man?s mouth and quickly covering their entire bodies. Sinclair slid down and stared at their writhing bodies and tried not to pay attention to the visions.
Constant use of his abilities while moderately injured was not dealing a great price to his mind. Every blink of his eyes led to a knightmare vision for a split second before he opened them again. The very corner of his eyes led to indescribable monstrosities that he rather not focus on. The thing in front of him though...
She smiled, quite sweetly in fact. He rather not look at her again.
If Baltreth were speaking of what he saw with his Host, he said nothing. Sinclair breathed deeply, his eyes still on his vision. At the rate this was going, he wouldn?t be able to extract himself from the battlefield. Leave the fort yes, but not survive the battle raging outside.
?Confirmation Baltreth. It has been 4 minutes since we sent that soldier off correct??
Correct. Are you going to ignite the flames?
Sinclair nodded, not even bothering to think his answer and just spoke it out loud. ?Yes. I am incredibly, incredibly pissed at this entire building and everyone in it. I will watch this place burn to cinders and all of these things trapped and burning within it.?
He snapped his fingers, and the damage was done. Alexander sat and waited as his visions tormented him again.
-----------------------
The enemy had not truly noticed the head wielding Silent One through the fact that it was very, very thoroughly damaged in the head. Those of it?s kind nearby subconsciously shy away from it?s path if given a choice, and those immediately in it?s path ignored it. Focusing on it, and thus seeing it through their mental eyes is inherently painful. This, they prefer to simply not look at it, despite knowing it was their own kind, until the moment it made it?s way to another tower.
The head, possessed with infernal energy, opened it?s mouth and screamed. It was not a human scream, nor that of a mortal, the closest approximation would be the original owner of that head screaming in eternal pain as he burns in hellfire forever and ever. The piercing shriek cuts through the mental symbiosis of the Silent Ones nearby, allowing the head to fulfill the enchantments laid upon it.
It began to turn inside out, red meat and gray brain matter pulling out of its mouth as the hair and scalp turn inwards. Crimson fire blazed in it?s eyes and escaped them as it spread throughout the rapidly whirling piece of meat, much to the shock and confusion of everyone nearby. This confusion would last only a second before the most destructive spell Sincalir could think of and execute within 3 minutes of preparation occurred.
For a millisecond, for the tiniest, tiniest, tiniest moment, a portal to the fiery pits of hell opened that was about the size of the head that serves as it?s catalyst. The strange occurrence before that meant that they had all seen it, and so their minds were burned from the inside out and their souls, whatever they may be, condemned to the pit and their mortal bodies filled with Hellfire. It was then, and only then, that the Hellfire was released.
The tower exploded in a wave of burning fire, spiralling into the air in a frightful plethora of hellish combustion. The fire did not rise far, improperly cast as it was, and the overall result was still basically what a round from his rifle would have done, but while it managed to kill a few dozen clones it was also enough to distract every clone within the fort with a psychic backlash. The sudden deaths of so many as well as the frightful sight that they had seen meant that they transmitted their experience to the others, even in diluted form, thus severely compromising their combat ability.
Ana and the group finally made ground against the clones and disappeared into the Siberian Wilderness. Not a second look to the Zhivot, she trudged on. The group was separated but knew their way back to the rally point.
She sat down in the makeshift campsite, warming herself over a small fire. They had to be careful not to make their location known, so everything was in moderation. Little more than a few crates that could be left behind. No solid information as to the next move in their plans. Others started trickling in.
Once we have a few people their to just give a feel of a reunion we wil go back to Verkovansk to pick up Kin and then who knows?
Sinclair's escape from the Gulag was not pleasant. There was an excessive amount of screaming and pain echoing around the place as the enemy attempted to keep their prison intact. As it was, the Hellfire that Sinclair had started both at the beginning of the attack and through the head exploding trick of his continued to burn. He had no intention of stopping it as he watched the compound burn and burn from the same hill that he had set up on not hours earlier. The visions danced in his vision, and both Sinclair and Baltreth ignored them as they focused on the flames. Once the screaming had stopped and the Hellfire began to roll downwards into the under sections of the Gulag did Sinclair then leave. The Zhivot would serve as a message to the enemy. A potent one if ever there was any.
The amount of time it took, both for him to watch the gulag burn, and the subsequent trek to the rendevouz position meant that he found the group only well after nightfall. He barely made a nod to everyone present before he collapsed next to a tree, his back leaning into it. He took care not to close his eyes.
I must ask Alex, how long does this usually last?
He grunted. 'Never really certain. It depends. They're all drawn from my memories. The nightmares under my eyes are from the past things and creatures that had broken me. The things to the corner of my vision are the things that I had to face on my way to mastery of both Imperiomancy and Thaumaturgy.'
and....her?
'She's Carina.'
As in that person who got killed by the Necromancers? The one who you told to Selene?
'Yes and no.'
What?
Sinclair chuckled lightly to himself, mocking and sarcastic.
'The best way to construct a lie is to manipulate yourself. She's....her, yes? She might not have really died by the Necromancers, as that was maybe a lie I told him to get himself more comfortable towards me, ALL guardians hate Necromancers, but she did die. And it was terrible.'
Sinclair...
A smirk from him now.
'Since you're my partner, I'll tell you this Baltreth. I always lie. Deception and confusion is all I know. The few worthy of the truth from me are either dead or far, far away from here. Do you understand?'
In a manner of thought Alex.
Sinclair snorted and looked into the fire, neither welcoming or rebuffing any attempts at conversation.
Far away, in the chambers of Silas Grey, he watched the hellfire burning deep into the stone of Zhivot...leaving it a mess beyond all hope of recovery. He leaned back in his chair, pondering the ramifications of what had transpired. His left eye was clouded and black, no visions of the future came to meet his blind eye. The recent future remained obscured, by some force outside of his own control he was unable to ascertain the future and so he sighed and wiped the image off of the viewing orb and stood. He walked over to a nearby annex and sat down at his easel, picked up his palate and began to paint.
Ryan eventually reached the camp, carrying Kishima had slowed him down quite a bit.
He's still alive, good.
He pulled a bedroll from his backpack, placed Kishima in it, and started rummaging through his backpack trying to think of something to do for the darkling...
He eventually decided to dope him up, pull the shrapnel out, seal the wounds, and set up an IV...
After he had finished, he collapsed into sleep only a few feet away from his patient.
Hadrian cut down a pursuing clone, staining the snow with it's blood.
"Damn! You guy are persistent little bastards, aren't ya?" He taunted, making his way to the rally point.
"FRIGUS!" Hadrian incanted, causing Soul to be wreathed in a cool blue aura. He stabbed the ground, and formed a thick, gigantic ice wall, discouraging any further pursuit.
The clones used whatever they had on their person in an attempt to break through the ice, but it was too late. Hadrian had already slipped away into the night, evading their grasp.
[hr]
Hadrian reached the point last, though he was quite happy about his death toll.
"Sorry I'm late everyone," He greeted them with a bow. "Got a bit... side-tracked, so to speak."
Anastasia sat, loosing her thoughts to the flames. Like so many, the flames seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her. That thing that since the dawn of time has made us look inside ourselves.
She saw herself seven years ago. The last time she had seen him. They were in Switzerland, and he was leaving. Kin looked at her, an unsettlingly confident look about him. It was something she still didnt understand. How could a man flirting with destruction for such an uneasy cause feel so....okay? The man was a sphinx, a walking riddle. He faced his fate. They hugged and kissed. "Goodbye love." He smiled and winked back at her while he walked into the Rhyle headquarters. This is what perplexed her. What danger was inside that labyrinthine place for him? What did he have there to fear.
And then, not five hours ago.
Midst gun fire and deaths touch, the limp figure being dragged through his own filth. She had been there, could feel his skin, see his face, and (had she listened carefully) heard his breathing. He was there. Not a memory, not a dream, flesh and blood. Those seven years she spent hunting him down, tracking everything that he had been involved with, searching the globe, every nook and cranny, no stone unturned, now reaching fruition.
What the hell did you do? All I know is that Sigma took the other mask and ran, I heard you sent three squads of men to find him and they took him with great prejudice. (later on you and I are going to have a conversation about Judicial authority you wont enjoy.)
I told you to steer clear of Sigma, that what he was doing was beyond your clearance, and now Dragon is raising all hell to find him. They go off the map for four years, and the first thing you do when he shows up again is make him disappear all over again. I want answers.
And Im sure I dont need to tell you what the director of Talisman will do if he finds out what happened.
Marshal Judicator Tyhaldreas.
Judicator Tyhaldreas was assassinated a day after this letter was sent.
I hope the next few paragraphs don't come out of nowhere. I've been hinting on them for a while now.
Sinclair also chuckled in response, giving no sign to the visions in his head.
"I suppose. A message was sent tonight, and I suggest that you and your friends prepare judiciously. I certainly will."
At his curious face, he considered what to tell him. Shrugging, he decided to tell all for now.
"Notice, that this was a Red Star facility. As in, the Order of the Red Star, with at least nominal backing from the Soviet Union. They wouldn't stand for this facility being used by Mercer, who's location we still don't know, and so it's destruction will be noted. And yes, the Gulag's been destroyed, I made sure of it."
"As for why, well. They'll consider it an attack. A brutal attack with no warning whatsoever. They'll probably assume it either be from the Order of the Black Rose, such delightful friends that they are, or from the 'Forces of The Light' that Grey is so keen on calling us. Close inspection will show Hellfire having burnt it down, and so they'll come to the logical conclusion that Thaumaturgists have something to do with it."
Sinclair shifted his position, finding his legs have cramped slightly. "The Guild is at war Master Selene. It hasn't ignited yet, but forces are being readied and pieces moved into place. The Red Star, as befitting it's parent government, trusts no power but itself, thus they don't trust the Guild. The Old Guard has been to cultish, too greedy for them to deal with. The Babylon Coven is the major leading power of the Old Guard, and the Red Star is not on speaking terms with them."
"However, they'll deal with a more modern approach. Business agreements, they can deal with. And Alexander Sinclair, whom they have talked with before, had business with before, a major member of the New Breed of Thaumaturgists and the leader of the Hellfire Coven, is a good person to deal with. So they'll come to me, ask me who do you think had attacked their Gulag and I'll say, very hesitantly, as I am a loyal member of the Guild after all, that the Thaumaturgists under the Destroyer are probably up to it. I won't know any names of course, but I would suggest investigating Lyta Johnson, the new head of the Babylon Coven."
The Black Nail smiled. "And if they won't believe me, fine. If they'll have suspicions, fine. They have no real leads left. No one to tell them otherwise except us nice members of the Knighthood, and Rhyle of course. But if they do, then I've secured Red Star assistance for both Grey's War and myself. I'm sure he wouldn't mind that, won't he?"
"I'm not too sure. But based on what I heard back at the castle, it's likely that he won't." He turned, leaning against the tree with one arm, to look at Sinclair head on. He tapped right ear and spoke, making sure only he and Sinclair could hear each other.
"These ears of mine are quite keen, y'know. I could hear every word," He said, seemingly amused. "I have dealt with your type before, Alexander."
Sinclair gave a wide smile. "I'm sure you have, being the Guardians' Prime Interrogator after all."
He shrugged however. "Nonetheless, beyond the crimes I've committed against the Guardians, ask yourself this. At the moment, you are both a Guardian and an Illrian Knight. As a Knight, you are honorbound to serve Silas Grey in his mad mission against the forces of darkness and evil and serve the light. As a Guardian, you are to serve the state of the United Kingdom to protect London and the surrounding area against evil and corruption most supernatural. I am merely following my own desires and code Master Selene, I always have. Whether I am a Thaumaturgist or Guardian or Knight is of no consequence. I have always considered them to be roles to play under who I am."
He narrowed his eyes in consideration. "You, however, don't strike me as that type. I could be wrong, I've been wrong many times before and was lucky enough to survive them, but you must ask yourself. Should your loyalties intersect, that the all High and Mighty Masters of the Guardians demand you to do something against the Venerable Silas Grey, or the All Powerful Lord of the Knighthood demand something that your Many Just and Pure Masters do not agree with, which would you decide. I really am curious about that."
Anastasia listened on for a short while. "We made our decision a long time ago."
The way she cut into the conversation was a strange one, still starring into the fire.
"We arent exactly here on 'orders' per say." Kujo said.
One of the Daltons shook his head, laughing a bit. "We went.. well... how can I put this lightly? You might say we went off the map."
The other said "Another man might say, we went off the map we were supposed to be on."
The first spoke up again. "And a third might say we specifically went where we weren't ever allowed to go period."
"And yet another man might argue that we are disavowed because of it."
"Go ahead." The Rhyle named Christian had just walked into the camp site, armor stained with blood, a black eye painfully obvious on his face. "Tell 'em Ana."
"A man tried to stop us, a Rhyle Praetor. By the name of Julian Cashern. He is head of internal investigations. He has had an unhealthy obsession with everything about Silas Grey, to the point of trying to topple his power. Ulrich was the first to discover his treachery."
"We all thought it was a little ridiculous for him to think he could take down the big guy, but Cashern has power all his own, an uncanny thing. He is dangerous, and his thirst for power is shrouded behind a veil of order and structure. Nothing escapes him in the Rhyle, nothing he doesnt have his claws in." Ulrich Spat on the ground. "So we decided the only way to get around him is to stop being Rhyle... in a legal sense of course.. But he hasnt given up on trying to kill us all. We think it may have been he who put Kin in that Gulag, but we arent sure."
Christian only starred up at the sky. "Cant wait to ask him in person.." His mind clearly set on revenge.
"Well, Sinclair, you are quite wrong," He answered. "I am not some mere zealot that answers to the High Masters every beck and call. You and I are similar in the regards that we have our own agenda, though mine is quite different, maybe even a little more simple than yours."
He closed his eyes, breathing in the cold air, then stared out into the white landscape.
"See these people Master Selene? These people are the true believers. The ones who believe in Grey and, apparently, Kin himself. Such faith. Enough faith to have assaulted a dangerous gulag within the Soviet Union to rescue this man." He chuckled, a soft, amused chuckle. "Such power this Kin has don't you think? That when defeated and broken he could gather allies to save himself by merely being....him. I certainly could not do that, neither could you I think. You know that to be true, to a certain extent I think. Anastasia, Kujo, Daltons, Ulrich and the rest."
The Thaumaturgist shrugged. "Nonetheless, back to your view. What exactly is your agenda here hmm Master Selene? I'm curious at what could possibly drive you here."
Hadrian crossed his arms and looked at him with narrowed eyes in silence. Eventually, he spoke.
"To help as many people as I can, nothing more," He replied. "I don't have any desire for power, or wealth or anything of the sort. I just wish to help people."
"Oh wow. Oh dear. That is amusing." he grinned, looking at Selene. "The Sanguimancer, the master Interrogator of the guardians. The man who authorizes the tortures of dozens to help people? Oh that is both rich and ironic, mostly ironic, because it seems that the Guardians have a habit of dealing with Insane operatives now aren't they?"
"Nonetheless." Sinclair mused, his mouth still smirking. "That does put things in an interesting way. An interesting way indeed."
You're not gonna try to kill him are you?
'Of course not Baltreth. I can sympathize with Master Selene. Help as many people as you can. I remember taking that oath in the Guardians and meaning every word.'
What changed then hmm?
A smirk.
What do you do when you're trying to hammer a nail in with your hand?
"And now I'm curious." he said suddenly. "What does your ah, Master want then hmm?"
Hadrian sighed, not at all appreciating Sinclair's jeering. He sat down against the tree.
"In order to save one person, you have to forsake another. Say you had two siblings, both who have never wronged you and are both really good people. Say that they have their guns pointed at each others heads, and you can only save one. You have to make a choice.
"Besides, most the people that I had to deal with were monstrous criminals, and they didn't act very personable either. It's not like the decision was hard.
"As for what Phaedra wants? I don't know. I could let him out, if you want."
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