[O] Week 206: What was Never Meant to be Found

[FogOverLondon]

**This takes place prior to current events in Tokyo.**

What was Never Meant to be Found​

Total WC: 9,736

WC: 1,795

The plane touched down in Tokyo and Darius dragged his finger lightly across his cell phone, illuminating the locked device.

Three messages, he thought as he noted the blinking message icon, I’ll look at them as soon as we deboard.

Elsewhere, in the underground of an ancient ruins, Killian and Animaeus were beginning to meet with even more frustration and friction than they had previously encountered.

"Look, creature, you and I have been at this for weeks; there’s no telling how this labyrinth will kill us if we continue to search. Not to mention that after weeks of searching, I’m beginning to think this is all in vain,” Killian ranted.

Animaeus had become somewhat accustomed to Killian’s yapping. He ignored the man and continued on down the impossibly dark hallway.

Killian would frequently lose his luster, either forgetting that he was pointlessly complaining, or perhaps he simply lost momentum from so much protesting against Animaeus’ methods. In this case, he was often distracted by the darkness, as if with Animaeus near him it was brought alive and given more than just time. With Animaeus’ disturbing aura always so close, things that normally seemed dead or lifeless would, now commonly, feel as though they were given animation and verve. The musty air of the tunnels was oppressive, pressure from the water in the bay bearing down on the place. It held wonderfully but it was a tenuous balance. Killian and his companion moving around down there made him somewhat nervous, no matter if the place was alive now or not. Alive or inanimate, the remains of the maze of underground passages and remnants of the century abandoned rooms would hold a strong possibility of killing them both in seconds. All it would take was a crack, a vibration of their voices, a shifting of the underwater earthen crusts beneath the temple. Animaeus chuckled audibly, as if reading Killian’s slowly dawning fears without looking behind him.

The red haired man’s feet somewhat began to drag under the worry that his constant grumbling would be his own undoing. Meanwhile, Animaeus still made no sound as he pressed forward. The eeriness of Animaeus lacking in footsteps hadn’t occurred to Killian but had struck him later as being something he had never really considered before.

As they reached another chamber Animaeus turned into it and stopped. Killian stopped somewhat abruptly behind him; following the creature he could not always anticipate their necessary pace. The cloaked monster took in a deep breath, to such a degree that the air shifted slightly and dust was pulled off of the half tall pillars rising from the ground to their waists.

"It is near,” he said in an undead, wraithlike growl from within his cloak, which seemed to echo from beyond the physical realm.

Killian merely observed, now intrigued by Animaeus’ interest in the direction and placement of their sought after item, an item which he still not know the nature of. Reinvigorated in his curiosity of Animaeus’ search, the scarlet haired scientist stepped aside as his guide exited the room. While he trailed behind, not really assisting in the conduction of their search, he couldn’t help but muse upon the idea that the creature was following his nose, as if that was a realistic way to find anything. But then again, Animaeus wasn’t human either, not limited to the same confines of definition when it came to what was possible or normal. He had never asked but for all he knew, Animaeus had the nose of an animal, though a snout would probably be noticeable even beneath the hooded cloak that held his anonymity.

As the two proceeded down the corridor, Killian couldn’t help but notice that the passage was narrowing and the floor was ramping at a subtle incline. There were no more doors to empty chambers, only the shrinking configuration of stones that composed the ancient temple. Finally, they came to the end, Killian had to crouch a little to fit, while Animaeus seemed to shrink oddly to fit his surroundings. It seemed an optical illusion, since the human hadn’t really noticed when Animaeus had changed size. But as they stood, facing the end of the passageway, Killian could see an odd design laid upon the stone. The contraction of the hall was symmetrical, even the floor raised like a sleigh to match the walls and ceiling, ending in a flat point where the wall signaled the hall’s ending.

Animaeus stared for a moment, studying the painted design. The moment seemed to linger and Killian held his breath in anticipation and trepidation as he waited to see if anything would happen. At this point, anything that happened shouldn’t surprise him, though he knew that with the breath held in his chest he could very well be more than surprised if something were to happen suddenly.

The cloaked creature extended his wiry finger, the bones seemed stitched together with what little skin and flesh were attached to it, and traced a pattern lightly across the stones. The masonry began to glow, the pattern seemed eager to accept Animaeus’ reiatsu and as it parted, revealing a hidden antechamber, a powerful gust of wind was freed. The gust blew, directed by the narrowness of the temple’s hallway, Killian shielded his eyes but tried to keep an eye forward, watching as Animaeus stood steadfast against the gale with no apparent effect from it.

Killian choked out the breath he had held in, which had been oppressed even more by the wind that had mysteriously exited the newly discovered chamber.

"Is this it?” he asked as he lifted a leg to step over and through the tiny opening.

With dark glee Animaeus answered, "Yesss, this is what we’ve been searching for!”

The tanned man had not seen such a blissful reaction to anything, save for when he had eaten those prisoners back in Siberia and even then, he had not witnessed the atrocity himself. The devilish excitement suddenly worried him a little as he rose to his full height on the other side of the entrance. Within the shrine, Animaeus had already transformed back to his normal height. Perhaps human form was something nebulous and undefined for the creature. But Killian was suddenly distracted by a chill, a shot of electric current that traveled beneath all the skin on his body. His arm hair raised and a tingle traversed the back of his neck down the length of his spine.

"What is this place?” he asked, his voice echoing in the eerie silence that had replaced the raging wind from a moment ago.

Animaeus answered with a graveled tone, grave and almost reverent of the shrine’s significance to him, "This is where our dreams lie.”

Killian rolled his eyes - he was slowly becoming accustomed to the cryptic answers that his companion gave. In a rare show of power, Animaeus disappeared from his sight. The move had been instantaneous as far as he was concerned, transpired in the length of time given for him to blink. Animaeus was that excited to be here that he had made the move without hesitation. A behavior that told Killian that his monstrous friend had no reservations of displaying his power, he only had decided, either consciously or unconsciously, that there was no reason to show off his power in such menial ways.

It was at that moment that Killian realized that he was no equal for Animaeus, at least not to the monster himself. He held no guard in Killian’s presence and had never treated him as if he was anything but a bug. The thought infuriated the scientist but he would have to do his best to hide it; bury it beneath another realization: Killian was afraid of Animaeus, and while it was unidentifiable right now, there was a reason. He only knew what he felt from this thing: that their relationship was akin to a lion and a gazelle and, perhaps, Killian had not realized the true nature of this predator consciously. In order to compete with this fanged beast that seemed to bear down upon him with his presence and aura, flaunting not his superficial power but his true powers through his dominance of his prey, Killian would himself have to become a hunter, a predator worthy of his rivalry. He wasn’t bothered by the realization itself, but it only served to allow him to realize that he had never been the dangerous one until now. As a scientist, his identity was steeped in the pursuit of knowledge, knowledge being power, the power to control one’s world. For this realization, he was thankful, in a way.

Killian wanted to speak, but now even he was captured by the Babylonian-esque temple that surrounded them. From where Killian was, just beyond the breach of the entrance into it, he could see that where he stood was a ledge that dropped off into a swirling entrance back to the water. The raging waters far below them would recede and churn, revealing jagged spires hidden in their seething. He looked up from the daunting view and studied the puzzle-like arrangement of ledges, nearly impossible to properly traverse. And at the center was a steeple, a pyramid shaped platform, not unlike the shape of the corridor turned right-side-up, that rose to a viewable position above the stature of the ledge he stood on. The light seemed to be let in from some exterior source, probably mirrored in from above the surface of the water, in order to project a cone that illuminated the platform and its contents. There, Animaeus had raised an object above his head, triumphantly holding it as if it were an item to be worshipped.

"This is what I have been searching for! This is it!” He proclaimed.

Killian noted the sinewy, vascular flesh and purple toned skin that had lay beneath the large, thick cloak that normally hid them. The arms that had extended from beneath them seemed characteristic of a crone from some fable contrasting with a beautiful princess or a handsome prince. Either way, Killian could only picture something ugly underneath. But interrupting his daze was a tearing sound that rent the very air beside him. The dank shrine shook with the announcement of their attendance, or maybe it was at the theft of its well hidden treasure and Killian turned to face the black darkness, whirling in its own desperate calling for him to enter. He bent his gaze and turned his head toward Animaeus wo bid him to enter the spatial distortion.

"Come human, we have work to do,” he growled happily.

 

[FogOverLondon]

What's a Little Distance Between Friends?​

WC: 2,616

While their enemies’ search had come to an end, the search for peace among the three Orpheus members was ongoing. The very air seemed tinged with blue hues that tainted the light, giving the winter a filtered effect as they looked upon the airport where the smugglers had falsified documents in order to allow them landing permissions. While Absalom and Natalie had no discernable expression of pain, the grief in their non-expression was clear. It almost begged the question, what face do you make when you have lost a piece of yourself?

Perhaps Darius was the one who understood best what came next. His proponent understanding of what the other two were feeling burdened him with the responsibility to keep it together. Someone had to, after all. And while it was not always in an emotional level, Natalie had been there plenty of times when he needed her, the same of Absalom. So he took it upon himself to be the level head, to remain strong despite their grief. If he could give them nothing else, he could try to give them time.

While they walked the airstrip, making their way from the cargo plane to the commercial side of the airport, not much was said. The roar of the plane turbines made certain that there couldn’t have been much heard anyway but when they did speak, there was an omnipresent loneliness in each of their voices. Each one-word dialogue was given, received and then processed in order to provide an equally underwhelming one-word response. Yet despite it, Darius was attempting to formulate ways to keep the two distracted, each failed in his mind before they had reached his mouth but the intent was there and would eventually manifest.

"Hey,” he said, finally breaking the awkwardly forced silence in the car, "we should just take some time off, go somewhere.”

Rejecting his attempt at lighthearted suggestions, Absalom stared out the window as he answered, "And go where? Do what? Don’t try and console me Darius, just don’t.”

Feeling his effort quickly going to waste, Darius rejoined the ranks of somber sojourners and made no second mention of anything that might draw more attention to their grief than away from it. The car ride was long and uncomfortable after that. The sound of silence was so deafening, Darius couldn’t help but notice at one point the ringing in his ears, like a high pitched buzzing after an explosion. Eventually, the lengthy trip came to a halt and the three just sat for a few seconds, soaking in their solemn awkwardness.

Absalom exited the car to return to his humble residence and after retrieving his things from the trunk he stepped off the street onto the sidewalk to walk away.

"Absalom,” Natalie called out from the driver rear window, "don’t forget we lost her too. We’re here when you’re ready.”

So subtle, so under-played, Darius had to applaud her on her forthright tactfulness. She had said what he was unable to communicate and he had nothing to chalk it up to except a gender and communication style difference. Natalie waited until he was inside and maneuvered around the car to the passenger seat next to Darius.

They drove away, leaving Absalom to his mourning, hopefully a peaceful and less trying experience than his initial reaction to be. Seeing her show of courage and strength despite herself, Darius worked up the courage to talk about what happened. After all, if the two of them couldn’t talk about a series of events that cut this deep, then what sort of bond could they claim to have? It was the same, yet different, for them with Absalom, for obvious reasons.

"Natalie,” he started, quietly attempting to mimic her sensitivity, "I...I really don’t know what to say. But I was just trying to let you know, I don’t know, I guess, I just want you to know I-”

"I know,” she said, cutting his awkward confession short, "I know how we all must feel.”

He immediately was on the heels of her answer, "I just, I don’t know how to feel, I’m a man, I have to do something and this is something I can’t do anything about.”

"Well, I don’t know that we can’t do anything but I think being confused is completely natural. I’m sorry for what I said in the cave, I was upset. I thought if any of us knew how it felt to lose someone, it would be you and that was unfair of me.”

He could see her sincerity clearly and even though he had no reason to detect the feeling within him before, he sighed with relief that she wasn’t still angry with him from earlier.

"No, I’m not worried about it. Seeing Absalom tell Maëlle how he felt so sincerely, only to have no time left to celebrate how they felt, I can’t help but think about us.”

"I know, it’s really tragic but the biggest thing I’m worried about now is Absalom.”

"He’s been with her his whole life, both of their lives,” he said.

"I know, that’s what I mean, if we feel like this, how he must feel....”

She returned her gaze from the horizon to out her side window as Darius spoke in turn.

"Yeah, I guess I was just hoping he’d lean on us but I didn’t know how to say that given the situation.”

Natalie leaned her head from the passenger seat where she had moved, to Darius’ shoulder.

"You say it just like that, silly. It’s okay though, I think all he needed to hear right now is that we’re here for him. The rest is up to him.”

"That’s what I’m afraid of.”

"What do you mean?” She asked.

The car went silent as Darius considered what he was about to say. Though he, like most men, were clumsy with their communication, his insight was not lacking when it came to Absalom’s loss.

He swallowed hard as he allowed his imagination to assist him with the description of what he feared, "...When you lose something so important that your world shatters – I guess I’m afraid of what’s next for him. The choices he’ll have to make in order to get healthy, really healthy, aren’t easy. He was ready to throw away his life in that cave, I felt his energy signature erase for a few minutes, as if he was prepared to let the cold take him with her but then at the last moment he brought it back up.”

Somewhat surprised she had not really seen it herself, Natalie questioned him, "He was really willing to die with her?”

Darius reached his free hand from the steering wheel and placed it atop hers to reassure her that he was confident in his assertion.

"Yeah and I don’t think his struggle with this is over. It’s not as simple for him as leaning on us. For him, we couldn’t possibly understand what he’s going through and I’m worried about what that might lead him to do in order to relieve his pain.”

Though she could not get him to properly explain it before, this was what she had intended as far as accusing him of "knowing what it felt like”. Now that they were talking, it was clear he knew exactly what Absalom was going through. And if she could facilitate his vocalization of that, he would be able to relay that same sentiment to Absalom.

"Why don’t you try and talk to him about it then?”

Darius answered resolutely answered, "I plan to. I just have to figure out what to say and when.”

She laughed as she adjusted her head on his shoulder so she could see out the windshield of the car.

"Just talk to him like you’re talking to me now, it’ll be fine.”

"Thanks, Nat.”

The rest of the car ride to Natalie’s, and then again as he travelled alone to his flat, was silent. Once again he found himself unable to pin down a specific train of thought. In the back of his mind, he wondered about the status of his powers.

Will I ever get them back, he wondered.

Absalom shared an equal place in his worry. He called upon his personal experience that those in pain, without a realization of the remedy that might save them, are prone to rash decisions; anything to alleviate that feeling plaguing them. And, ultimately, Darius had decided that the feeling’s name was loneliness. The isolation of being in pain was probably taken with greater ill effect than the initial pain itself. And it, in his belief, was a circular thing, something to be trapped by. Pain breeding isolation, isolation breeding more pain, until it destroys you.

"How you must hurt, Absalom,” he said aloud.

When he arrived home he shuffled into the studio loft with what little energy he had to entertain the process. His bags were immediately thrown to a corner behind the front door and it took all he could muster to drag himself up the spiral staircase to his bed. He threw himself on it and landed heavily, fluffing the neatly made bedding to accommodate its new occupant. Unsurprisingly, Darius fell quickly into a dark pit of sleep, much needed after so many unrested days and nights.

He didn’t dream, not in the traditional sense. As he slept, he dreamt of many things, but when he awoke, it was abrupt and a cold sweat beaded on his skin. His heart was racing and, instinctively, he reached into his mind to retrieve the contents of the dream that had awoken him. But nothing came. All he could picture was the two faces that had populated whatever fantastic scenario his subconscious had created for them to exist in.

Animaeus and Killian.

Killian was dead, but his face had still found its way into his mind. Being an advocator of Natalie’s intuition all these years, he couldn’t help but trust his own. Did that mean that the scientist wasn’t dead? Assuming he was still alive, was he still working for the Order of the White Horse after what happened in Siberia? It was a new worry that sat in his gut, cogitating and brewing beneath his other formidable concerns. If he attempted to ascertain the whereabouts of a supposedly dead member of the enemy, would he miss any chance he might need to be there for Absalom?

His mind stirred under his new burdens and he began to slowly realize the gravity of his assertion. If Killian was still alive then most likely he was still with Animaeus, whether Kobalos was benign or not didn’t matter; it was their research in general that presented the danger and, at this point, an unknown questionable mal-intent.

Darius couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not that he had decided to conclude that Killian may be alive. If he was alive, he might be able to get some answers. The Kobalos strain innocuous effects were puzzling. There were pieces missing though and, unfortunate as it was, he would have to rely on Natalie’s insight again. He quickly grabbed his customary tanned leather coat and ran down to the car to see her.

When he arrived, he knocked several times, and eventually gave in to his haste and entered the residence when she didn’t answer. Warily, he entered the neatly kept home and drew his gun. Paranoia had crept into the crevices of his mind, questioning the validity of whether or not the man he thought to be dead was still alive was putting him on edge.

"Natalie? You home,” he queried calmly.

He slowly took off his shoes to assist with his stalking and made unhurried, deliberate movements as he rounded the corner from the entryway.

"Sorry to just barge in but I have something really important to talk to you about,” he called out, hoping for a reaction from whatever intruder had infiltrated her home.

He made one final implicit request for the interloper to reveal themselves, "Natalie?”

Just as he rounded the second corner past the living room, his heart nearly leaped from his chest as Natalie herself appeared.

"Oh my god Darius, you scared me! What are you doing?” She scolded.

Red-in-the-face, Darius immediately secured his gun back in its hip holster and fanned his flush cheeks.

"Oh god, Natalie, I thought you were in trouble! Why didn’t you answer the door?” He asked.

She folded her arms and pushed out her hip to an obvious disapproving body language.

"I was on the phone with Absalom, I thought I would check on him to see if he was settling in okay.”

Darius sighed and grabbed her in an embrace.

"I’m glad it wasn’t what I was thinking then.”

"What did you think it was?” She asked.

His expression, though she was half buried in his chest and couldn’t see it, became slightly grave as he recalled the reason for his arrival.

"You’d better sit down,” he advised.

As he explained, he found himself somewhat disbelieving even his own idea. But somehow, Natalie remained calm and sat quietly while she listened to his reasoning.

After a minute or two of deliberation, Natalie sat back comfortably on her thick-pillowed couch.

"I think you’re right,” she affirmed.

Somewhat incredulously, Darius leaned forward with a raised eyebrow and questioned, "really...?”

Natalie laughed lightly, gracefully and then answered, "yes.”

"You never confirmed his death for one. That alone is enough to investigate to authenticate the kill. Past that, this weirdo, Animaeus, is still a threat whether Killian is alive or not. We don’t even know the extent of Killian’s involvement. I mean, remember Syria? Those extremists were all prepped and ready with that EMP but were missing some key components. The more I think about it, the more I think that Kobalos might be like that. Maybe it’s not weaponized until they have the final pieces.”

It had never dawned on Darius that what he and Absalom may have stumbled on when they raided the facility was an unfinished product. Orpheus analysts had made no mention of Kobalos being incomplete but if there wasn’t enough data to support it, they may have omitted it from their conclusions entirely. Like Darius, they might have not even considered it a factor, even more so given that Darius had submitted so much data; it could have just been an overlooked possibility.

He cursed himself for not thinking of it before on the one hand and sighed as he allowed the opposite notion to take over.

"There’s no point in dwelling on it,” he reassured himself, "the only thing to do now is determine if Killian is alive or dead and find Animaeus. We lost Maëlle in the last battle, the Order can’t win the war on this one.”

Natalie nodded, imaginingll the trouble he was inviting onto himself, returning to the fight so quickly. She leaned forward, so that the distance between them now across the corner of her coffee table was measured equally and took his hand tightly.

"Be careful,” she said simply.

He smiled, glad to not have to sit and stew in his fears and grief against the tide of his current set of problems.

"I will,” he answered.

 

[FogOverLondon]

Disclosure​

WC: 1,510

When he returned home, Darius grabbed his already packed items and headed down to Absalom’s office to submit the proper reports and documentation. It would be tedious but he had to report on the last two months, including Maëlle’s death and requests for his continued activities regarding the Order; having been impacted so heavily with how he handled the excursion in Siberia, he wouldn’t neglect his responsibilities as an Orpheus agent this second time around.

After several hours of paperwork and coded e-mails sent to headquarters, Darius received the inevitable call to his cell phone and readily answered it.

"HQ, confirm order to pursue the White Horse,” he said.

The voice that answered was a strong and straightforward tone, "Order is confirmed. You are to use any and all means to assess and prevent any threat. Good hunting.”

The stalwart agent could hear the movement that signaled the person on the other end was about to hang up and he couldn’t help but question the oddity of not speaking to the Brigadier General or his direct subordinates to authorize the order.

"H-hey,” he choked out, "where is Brigadier General Aragon? Or his men?”

There was a pause and, for a moment, he thought that they had already hung up. But then the answer came in a similar tone as his order confirmation, yet denoting a somewhat troubled conscience.

"They’re...busy, HQ out.”

Darius was somewhat taken aback by the short manner of answer that he had received. No explanation as to what Aragon, Masato and his men were busy with. But for their direct involvement must have been important. The rough-around-the-edges agent felt a little guilty for indulging in his own personal grudge against the Order while the rest of the world continued to turn. But from his perspective that made his fight with the Order of the White Horse all the more significant; if he didn’t take care of Killian and Animaeus and stop whatever scheme they had looming, no one would be able to prevent it until it was already carried out.

Now that he had the permission, he needed to get moving. He burst through the front door and ran to the car. He would be chartering another plane to Siberia immediately. And this time, he wouldn’t leave unless he had exactly what he wanted.

In the endless desert of Hueco Mundo, in the lair of the researcher Animaeus, both he and his companion analyzed the object that they had found beneath the sea in its hidden shrine resting place.

"So we looked for two weeks for a fourth of a samurai helmet?” Killian whined.

By this time, Animaeus was used to the human’s constant complaining. It had worn down any resistance he had to resenting it or reacting to it. But it wasn’t just that, looking upon the object now the desert-born creature was reminded and could swear he almost could feel something. It seemed to resonate with him, its energies pulsing with his own as he admired it. On the pedestal he had placed it upon it glowed with a light tinge of orange-red reiatsu. The helmet itself was partially shattered and less than half of its mass remained, even though its old shape was obvious. Although intensely focused on it, Animaeus whispered. His voice seemed to reach across the room, speaking to Killian as if he were leaning as close as possible, as if there were no other sound to interfere with his words entering Killian’s brain. It was ghostly and discomforting, so much so that Killian unconsciously took a step back when his heartbeat began to race.

"Helmet, helmet, you say? It is so much more than that. It is a symbol. A symbol of transcendence that they were blessed with, not bound by the limitations of a single race, but invigorated with the strength of two. They were the closest thing to perfect I can imagine. To grasp at power, they master themselves or die, not unlike the rest of us. I can’t help but be drawn to it. And from that desiring for this "piece of transcendence”, I will change the world, all worlds. Do you understand now, human?”

When Animaeus was finished speaking he cocked his head in Killian’s direction and flashed a supernatural sneer, revealing all the ugly, misshapen rows of yellow teeth in the researcher’s mouth.

"No,” he answered cautiously, "I don’t.”

Unfazed by the human’s response, he allowed his hand to approach the object, careful not to touch it. He skimmed around it, hovering the bony extension in some twisted reverence of the item. Until finally, he curled the long, swollen joints of his fingers, save for his index finger, and scraped his dead, overgrown nail on the surface. The porcelain mask pulsed strongly that time, resisting the urge to swallow Animaeus with its power.

"The power of this object is infinitesimally small compared to it’s former strength but even you can feel its energies, can you not?”

Killian barely nodded his head down, subtly acknowledging his addressor.

"Well,” Animaeus continued, "the owner of this fragment was none other than the ruler of what I consider a transcendent race of beings. Not Hollow and yet not Shinigami, they are Vizard. This ruler, the Imperator Seisatsu Kuragari, was a powerful enemy, though perhaps not the strongest. While he ruled his kind, the world had its comings and goings, and I wandered in obscurity, I was devoid of any feeling or thought. I was progressing slowly into what you see today, but it was this energy that revitalized me, it animated me in such a way that it forced the hand of my evolution. And for the first time, I hungered for not only food; I hungered for knowledge, for self. It was at that moment, while a monster and a beast clashed in Los Noches, that I thought to traverse that bridge myself. But I failed. I could not completely join the ranks of those who had transcended their own existence.”

Piqued with interest, Killian leaned against a stone wall, bleach white just like the sands of Hueco Mundo.

"So what you’re saying is you want a way to...what...? Transform into these Vizard?”

The creature laughed. It rang in Killian’s ears like some kind of perversion of church bells, slow and loud as it was translated in his brain.

"Long ago, we were decidedly different. Arrancar; hybrid beings capable of incredible power. I, a Gillian, want the power to reach the next tier of strength, adjuchas.”

It was dawning on Killian that not only had he entered a world in which he did not understand, but that Animaeus, fearful and powerful as he was, was comparing himself to something that he believed, or knew, existed; something even more powerful than himself. His fear stirred as he rested his body weight there against the wall. He could barely imagine such a powerful being yearning for more, hungering for more than what he already had.

"And what would you do, even if you do gain power from this item, what does that have to do with me?”

"Ah, the question which once formless has gained sentience and shape,” it mused, "you want to know why it is that I have kept you all this time?”

Killian stared, acknowledging the claim by disassociating himself with all other possible indications of his gaze. His expressionless visage stayed set on Animaeus as it circled the room.

"You and I are alike, in more ways than one. I seek the Truth of this world, in order to gain power, in order to transform myself past what I am now, I must understand this world. I must understand those who have already transcended. You also seek to create a transcended being.”

Killian scoffed, "I sought to make humans stronger, reach our own pinnacle of strength, much like you creatures. The compatibility had already been proven in one of my organization’s field tests, but wasn’t fully understood, it was an incomplete transformation as far as I’m concerned. To be able to do what my peers and rivals could not, that was what I wanted.”

"You wanted power,” Animaeus stated flatly, "and in order to gain power, you sought to dominate your field, your kin. As I said before, we are similar and, in this case, I am the same. I want power and in order to do so, I must devour my kin, even the most powerful must not be able to resist me.”

The man swept back his scarlet hair and, with Darius in mind, he asked, "And what of those who would stand against us?”

A twisted smile curled on the edges of the demon’s mouth. Killian could once again only see the rows of yellow, rotting eeth behind the veil of shadow that seemed to perpetually cover a full view of his cohort’s face.

"Then we will also devour them.”

 

[FogOverLondon]

Things Always get Worse Before They get Better​

WC: 3,815

In Siberia, Darius was having a significant amount more difficulty completing his inspection now that he couldn’t simply phase down to the lower levels of the ruined facility. But he had noticed large gaps in the structure where he might be able to climb down and dig through. The Orpheus agent made his way to the edge of the circular opening, filled to the brim with wreckage and stopped. His plan may have been sound but now that he was looking into the hole itself, it seemed like it might be more time consuming than was worth it. But he had to know.

When he arrived back at the plane, mission left incomplete, he slumped in his chair fairly oblivious to the bustling smuggler crew that he had rehired for his new travel arrangements.

"No luck?” The pilot asked as Darius sighed.

"No,” he answered in the man’s native language, "I need to figure out something else. I-”

As he spoke a thought crossed his mind. Absalom had mentioned knowledge of one other White Horse operational site when they had set out to find Maëlle. It was a slim chance but Absalom would have made a record of his findings and with that, Darius still had a trail to follow.

Concerned, the pilot glanced over as he alternated watching the skies and asked, "Are you okay?”

"Getting better,” he said, smirking as he did, "listen, when we get back, gas up the plane, we’re not staying long.”

He slept most of the trip home after that. It was a troubled sleep though, he often found himself waking with a start, pulse elevated, in a cold sweat and a gasp to punctuate the nightmare. Maëlle was often in these dreams, in various situations but more frequently, the dream was torn down to a bare essential blackness, where Darius could see her naked and staring at him. He felt most accused and responsible for her death in these dreams but after the third time of waking himself to it, he had become accustomed to reassuring his guilty conscience that it wasn’t his job to feel responsible, it was his job to catch those who were.

It was a little over an hour after he woke the third time until they touched down. He half stood out of his chair as they circled the airport and watched for an open space where they would be free to park the plane.

"There,” he said pointing.

The pilot was slightly confused but did as he was instructed. When the two men arrived in the tiny carrier, Darius stepped out into a balmy wind. The wind was odd for the time of year but Darius didn’t question it since hints of a much colder front were hidden beneath the relatively bearable temperature.

"Go fill up and come back for me here. I have to make a few phone calls,” Darius said.

Again the pilot did as Darius directed and made his way to the park area where the plane could be filled.

"Code in,” the cold tone said to Darius.

"Ah it’s you again. Code confirm: Zulu, Echo, Charlie, Foxtrot, Quebec,” Darius said quickly, hurriedly rattling off the code.

"Code authenticated, what can I do for you Agent Vahanian?”

"I need to pull recorded activity on WHO in the vicinity of the Strait of Hormuz.”

The man on the other end was silent for a moment, which seemed like minutes as the awkward silence passed.

"You’ll need Major level authorization to pull those records, same for lifting your travel restrictions to that area. Seems like you and your partner had an incident the last time you were in the region.”

"That wasn’t a big deal; it was just a little thing...and anyway, that was like five years ago! I think my track record speaks for itself!” Darius stammered in his defense.

"Agent Vahanian, you were photographed posing over defeated local extremists. We are still a clandestine organization. Even if we afford a little flash, we can’t permit free running.”

Darius, taken aback by the wall presented to him asked, "How am I supposed to do my job if-”

"Lucky for you, HQ has been given operational command since the Brigadier General and most of his direct subordinates are in the field.”

The rugged gunslinger mumbled, "You...that’s...I mean, you could’ve told me that before...,” earning a laugh from the man on the other end.

Furious typing could be heard over the phone and Darius waited until a cold return to professionalism said, "Travel restrictions lifted, intel has the area as a U.N. sanctioned ‘Hara Tiab and Minab Protected’ area. Shouldn’t have much trouble with extremists, although it is still technically is within a hotbed for extremist activity in general, we are not authorized for any involvement in political matters in the region. Strictly mission related, Vahanian.”

This time Darius laughed and responded, "Got it, don’t do anything you wouldn’t do. Please send the related intel to my phone. Agent Vahanian, out.”

He glanced over to the plane, which was still busy refueling and then began to dial another number. He made a slightly disappointed "tch” sound as the number went to voicemail.

"Nat, I’m back in Japan but not for long, we’re going to the Strait of Hormuz, I have a lead,” he paused, wondering if it was appropriate given their awkward confession of affection to say "I love you” but then decided not to.

"I’ll give you a call when I know something,” he said.

Eventually the pilot circled back around to pick him up, leaving him enough time for a few more phone calls and they left for Hormuz.

The region was fairly underdeveloped, despite being so close to the prosperous United Arab Emirates, it was a picture-esque scene of closely packed together living spaces and bazaars. Though each building was only between one and three stories, they gave the impression that they were towering over you the way they narrowed as they reached for the clear blue sky.

Darius always liked these kinds of places. They reminded him of the "old world”, a world separated from the inundation of technology and over-bustle of the First World countries. Though he still looked out of place, he had left his jacket at the hotel and chose a light white wrapping that resembled a turban to cover his head and face. Aside from that, he still wore his t-shirt and his jeans, with his bullet belt and holsters crossed about his waist.

It drew looks, but relatively few compared to what he would consider unwanted attention while he browsed the bazaar.

"How much for this?” he asked in the local tongue.

Despite his indolent stroll to his destination, he did have a destination in mind and made his way purposefully there. From the main street there were a number of alleyways that made the city much like a maze, a labyrinth of twists and turns that made it easy to get lost in. Worse, it made it a decent point for a moderate sized force to ambush and box him in. He silently hoped that it didn’t come to that as he checked behind him, making turn after turn until he was standing below the second floor of his objective.

The agent swept a second and then a third glance in front and back down the narrow alley to be certain he didn’t have a tail. He fully admitted to being overly cautious in precarious situations, his fearful nature often worked to his advantage when avoiding danger. But after he was confident that he was indeed alone, he drew his weapons and entered the building.

Empty, he thought as he completed his sweep.

Stranger than the building being emptied of people was that it was devoid of all possession. There was no beds, no desks, nothing to indicate that anyone had ever inhabited it.

He silently cursed his luck as he swung his leg, kicking at the ground and stirring up a layer of dust from the room’s bare floor. The specks of dust glittered as it caught the coned beams of light entering through the second story window. Amid the rain of sparkling dots floating gracefully back, Darius noticed an odd marking on the ground. He knelt down and traced his fingers over the indentations.

Scraping, he mentally noted.

He quickly began to scan the room and floor and stood up to approach the wall that faced him. It was an irregular place for a secret passageway but when he inspected the wall that ran alongside the short flight of stairs leading up to the second floor, he found that it was only moderately difficult to see. The wall where the stairs met the second floor pushed away and revealed that the stairs were actually much wider than a first look would implicate. Rather than a normal flight of stairs, the stairs that guided up to the second floor were extended within the wall, a narrow passage that led downwards into a dark depth. Somewhat entranced by the mystery below, Darius casually entered, forgetting his normal cautious glance.

As he made his way down the stairs, he came to a turn in the stairwell that was the second and last flight of stairs with a landing at the bottom. The landing was unlit as well, which would seem dangerous except for that not many people work in complete darkness, assuming there would be anything to find. Preparing the possibility for either another empty room or the converse, an enemy, he crept closer to the door-less cutout of the doorway and burst in. It was also dark in there, darker still because it essentially was below the building. The cool air lingered with a faintly unpleasant odor and, like most of what he had found, he noted within his inner monologue the smell and continued to try and let his eyes adjust to the lack of light.

Suddenly he cried out, "Tchhh,” when he ran into the corner of something about waist high. He muffled the cry as best he could, punctuating the exclamation by pursing his lips. He continued to mentally bemoan the edged object but became more interested in whatever he had run into, seeing as when he hit it there was a distinct shuffling of papers that had sounded. He holstered one of his guns and drew his cell phone to give face and form to the contents of the desk.

The pale blue illumination revealed papers with diagrams that Darius wouldn’t have pretended to understand. The only familiar was the geometric shapes and labels that might indicate the subject matter of the scrawling.

It was another set of biochemical equations, at least from what Darius could discern. The realization left an unpleasant taste to form in his mouth, a sort of dry tastelessness upon association of the notes with the virus Kobalos, the benign virus that Maëlle had been infected with - the virus whose experimentation had led to her death. A pain struck him in his chest, simultaneously sharp and dull at the same time, somehow both stinging and aching from the images of his friends that flooded his mind.

He was instantly reminded why he was in this place, a lightless hidden cellar in a foreign land, away from the people who were in as much as, if not more pain as he was. People, who probably needed him as much here as they did by their side; the thought sobered and refocused him and, with some sense of urgency, he gathered the documents and completed his search of the lone desk for something to bind them with. One last wide glance was all he needed to call his mission complete and exit the cramped space.

The anticipation of a completed mission was indescribable, something that seasoned veteran agents often take for granted. Despite that, the trepidation still exists and Darius, with his cautious nature, should have noticed the tingling at the back of his neck. Among the skills and situations an agent encountered, the final steps before completing a mission were the most dangerous. Research, locating, infiltration, and a host of others, none were as hazardous as the final retrieval of an objective. Returning home was the wall that every agent encountered in order to prove their right to survive.

Just as he reached the top of the hidden stairs, danger leapt on him and time seemed to slow as he acted with the full strength of his reflexes. Being made of earthen materials, much closer than the fabricated materials the built homes in Tokyo or the U.S., a spire rose from the top of the stairs to skewer the Orpheus agent.

Darius leaped backward to avoid its sharpened point and hit the wall behind him. He immediately ducked under the spear-tip of the spire and slid down the wall. The noise and massive dust cloud was distracting him, obstructing his senses as he came back to reality. It was slow at first, as though he were removed from existence for a moment, but quickly accelerating was the feeling just before Darius was slammed back to the immediate.

"Ahhh!” he screamed as he realized the spire had indeed struck him, pinning him against the wall behind him.

"You!!” a familiar voice called out to him.

It was no longer faint but instead, every sense he had was now amplified and he was acutely aware of the pounding in his right shoulder where he had been pierced by the spire. There was a buzzing at the back of his head from the hard landing against the wall, doubled from when he had leaped back and hit it and then again when he had thrown his head back in pain, instinctively reacting to the spire in his shoulder. And the commotion had been loud enough that there was a strong ringing in his ears like a current of electricity had been run through him, or an alarm clock was constantly blaring at him. He was breathing hard, struggling in pain as he squirmed against the wall.

His attacker approached, walking up the stairs so that he was partially visible at first and then fully visible after. And as Darius laid eyes on the man, his thoughts began to race, his training and experience taking over where instinct and response had crippled him.

"You remember me, I hope,” the man said, brushing back his long crimson locks.

Welling up in Darius was an overriding anger, fear no longer drove his reaction to the situation and Darius counted himself fortunate for that. Now his mind raced, calculating what little he could subconsciously from years of experience and training for moments like this.

He growled, partially from painful discomfort, as he uttered the man’s name, "Killian.”

"I’m glad you remember,” He said crassly, "What are you doing here, I wonder?”

Killian glanced down at Darius’ right hand and saw a rolled bundle of papers, partly stained with blood and smirked.

"Stealing isn’t a very good way to make friends, but then again this isn’t the second time you’ve been caught creeping around places you’re not wanted.”

Darius clenched his teeth and, with his left hand, drew one of his guns.

"Arghh!” he yelled as he pointed it at his enemy.

Three shots rang out from the gunslinger’s weapon, breaking the settled destruction and echoing in the cramped areas of the surrounding buildings.

Killian managed to dodge but Darius had already accomplished what he had meant to, buying himself a couple seconds to turn his gun, bullets filled with Thanoresonance, against the spire. When he shot the gun next, it was slightly muted as it destroyed the tip of the cone shaped earth and freed its captive.

The earthen spear had knocked part of the wall out and Darius fired off a few more covering shots toward the White Horse agent before he leaned out and simply fell through the jagged hole. Falling two stories wasn’t fun but Darius knew he wouldn’t suffer much ill effect. When he landed on the ground the wind was instantly knocked out of him and his wound screamed, as if punctured again. It then transitioned to a strong throbbing pain deep within his flesh that Darius knew was keeping him alert despite blood loss from the first strike. He still had the stolen documents in his right hand and squeezed to make sure he could still hold them.

Good, he thought.

His gun had been thrown a couple feet from him and he rolled to his left side to prop himself to his feet. The life he was losing dripped down his arm and the rugged looking agent knew he would have to retreat for now. Despite his reason for being here at the moment showing up, he was not in a condition to take him on directly. Even being stronger than his enemy, the wound was too convenient a reason to lose.

Darius stood up, dazed and reached for his gun. As he grabbed it, another spire was ejected from the ground, shooting up in a furious growth. Darius fully avoided this one and then looked up at the hole he had fallen from on the second floor.

"I’ll kill you, this time!” Killian yelled down to him.

"Not if I kill you first!” Darius sarcastically called back.

Killian was obviously easily provoked, and Darius intended to aggravate him as long as he chased. The Orpheus member darted off down the alleyway, choosing a random direction rather than the way he had come, where there were too many people to get hurt in his stead.

His stride was slowly becoming fuller, cleaner; the pain must have numbed a bit, he thought as he began to tighten his grip on his shoulder. The pain ebbed and flowed back in, but it was a good indicator for how fit to fight he was. There was a part of him, the daring part that he always hated indulging, that considered turning to fight Killian.

He was right in front of his enemy! Darius turned a corner and immediately slid down to a sit. Frantically, he tore at his t-shirt, making a binding as best he could. The field dressing was poorly done but it would keep blood seeping from the wound to a minimum.

"I know you’re here! Come out!” Killian yelled.

Darius breathed out and then in deeply, then sprung forward to his feet and ran down the alleyway in front of Killian. A storm of spires grew from the narrow walls and ground to impale the Orpheus agent. The coffee skin-colored man scarcely had centimeters between him and the fury of earthen spears but after putting some distance between him and Killian, Darius stumbled back to a full run away from his pursuer.

"You can’t run!! I’ll kill you!!!” Darius heard at his back.

At some point, I’ll have to fight him, the agent thought.

Feeling that he was close enough to his extraction point, he stopped. Agent Vahanian reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, which had been caked with blood but was otherwise unharmed. Within moments he had dialed the number and a deep, scratchy reply let him know he was talking to who he had intended.

"This is Darius,” he said to his conversant, "yeah, you got it, be sure you’re ready.”

Finally Killian caught up, furious, blood boiling.

"I have you now!” Killian wailed.

Suddenly a ghostly whisper seemed to penetrate their thoughts, etching from the beyond and into their very beings.

The whisper became steadily louder until it was clear that it was singling out Killian with its order, "Wait.”

Their eyes rose above them to the scraping sound that entered the alley from atop the buildings. There above them, above the buildings as if it were one step before the clear blue skies dotted with wisps of white clouds, space seemed to warp. It was the sort of illusion that you saw when paved streets gave off their summer heat, waves of invisible distortion bending what they could see until it wrenched free of itself, bursting forth to alleviate the burden of deformity. The perversion of the space seemed to stabilize and then the tear opened in an almond shaped portal to, what Darius could discern, was a pure black dimension.

Just beyond the wormhole to utter shadow, Darius could see a robed figure and he was instantly set on his heels. He clenched his jaw until it hurt and growled out a single name, "Animaeus!”

Speaking to Killian, the researcher from Hueco Mundo pointed at Darius, "I have a better idea: a test; a test of our newfound enlightenments...and allies.”

The cryptic conversation continued when the crimson haired human barked back, "No! He is mine to kill! I owe him a debt and it must be repayed!”

While they argued, Darius used his left hand to slowly retrieve one of his guns from its holster, his right hand still held his cell phone, and the documents had been rolled and tucked securely in a loop on his bullet belt. But before he could react, Animaeus seemed to anticipate him and extended an open hand in his direction. With his palm facing down, Animaeus called upon a strange, but familiar energy that began to engulf Darius.

At the same time, his cell phone began to ring. Darius quickly dragged his finger down the screen in an attempt to answer and call for help. But an immaterial clamp seized his body as he was swallowed by the bizarre darkness.

"We will take him with us for now,” Animaeus said, closing his hand to a fist, sealing the dark anomaly around Darius.

As he saw the last bits of light flee from his vision, he felt his consciousness closing in like an elevator door, narrowing until there was naught but a tiny stream of light left and in seconds, even that was gone. His cell phone dropped to the ground outside the portal, separated from its owner with the same frantic message repeating over and over.

"Attention all agents stationed in the Tokyo area, Orpheus is implementing Omega Protocol! All available agents are to respond immediately to the escalated threat. Attention all agents stationed in the Tokyo area, Orpheus is implementing Omega Protocol! All available agents are to respond immediately to the threat. Hello? Hello?? Is anyone out there??? Attention all agents stationed in the Tokyo area, Orpheus is implementing Omega Protocol! All available agents are to respond to the threat immediately...Hello?”*

*Note: The last line put this in meta-timeline with the current Tokyo collab: [PM] Week 205: [??/C/O/TNK]: I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.