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18 days ago
Sometimes the heresy purges itself.
2 likes
24 days ago
It's called trash CAN, not trash CANNOT. You got this 👍
6 likes
6 mos ago
If this is your first night at Waffle House, you have to fight.
6 likes
10 mos ago
I'll never quit this hell site.
4 likes
1 yr ago
The streets are safe again thanks to Status Bar.
1 like

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discord.gg/T226aU8u

New invite link to the discord if anyone is so inclined. We do a little plotting there.
Alese Piety


Eyes blinked open. She’d been sleeping soundly. Deep enough in slumber that the first few seconds of reality felt like a mystery; like she’d been a million miles away and suddenly snapped back to the present. Alese stared ahead for a moment, blankly watching the slow turn of long industrial fan blades over the shop while her mind became somewhat functional again. She remembered she’d only planned to lay down, take a little cat nap and then get back to work, however the relative silence in the air informed her that she’d been checked-out considerably longer than just a brief resting of the eyes. The small sofa in what constituted a “break area” within the alcove where the main tool chests were located was cheap, but by the gods was it comfortable and as she became steadily aware of herself, she debated whether or not to just blissfully drift away again though she knew that never worked. Her mind seemed to operate in two modes when it came to sleep: Awake and thinking or out cold to the point a marching band could have paraded across the floor and she would have never noticed. Something floated by the periphery of her vision and her glance shifted, but she was still far too comfortable to move.

The digital face of her small drone blinked an alarm that was several hours passed. Normally it would have made a happy chime to wake her up when the countdown expired, though for whatever reason it had been silent. “Thanks…” She grumbled and the deep blue clock face merrily turned to a pixelated smile. She sighed and wiped her eyes. The AI contained within the small drone was very good, but inexplicably would just go silent at random times to the point where she had inserted a backup protocol for it to beep and “speak” in Morse code, however that hadn’t worked either… For a brief second, she started to consider the potential problems in the logic for the umpteenth time, but quickly shut down that line of thinking. Having built it herself, whatever the problem was had been something she had done along the way and she just didn’t feel like thinking about it at the moment. She stretched mightily and sat up, shifting her legs down, but still keeping her upper body slouched in the warmth from her sleep. Disheveled strands of multicolored hair hung over her eyes and touched her lips and she blew them off with an ungraceful huff.

Directly in front of her were two large armored vans, though they looked closer to military personnel carriers having huge solid tires instead of tracks. With six wheels each, in a line they took up more space than three civilian cars bumper to bumper. Black and white with the stomping print of “MCPD” on the side, each had a turret on top that could be configured for whatever the intended purpose from crowd control, to raids or surveillance. These were brand new and a thick line of cables led inside the machine closest to her denoting the work she left before dozing off. Pre-delivery contracts for city administration were pretty easy, however there were only a handful of shops this side of MegaCity-01 that met the technical qualifications to do the work when the official motor pool office was too far behind. Alese could easily picture her father’s perspicacious expression explaining how the police had to be deftly managed just like the gangs and that there was no harm in understanding the finer points of their operation: Like the truncation pattern in the radio net, the unit number logic or the published versus realistic performance of many of the more advanced systems. Even though he had been out of the Spire for years, Corporate instinct still directed much of his thinking.

She yawned and shook her head, stretching again before a steaming mug and a hand terminal were suddenly in her face. She took the terminal and set it aside, but tickled cautiously at the mug the drone presented in its unfolded arm, testing the temperature. “Way too hot.” She said, looking at the small screen knowing that it should be trying to read her facial expression, however it only responded ponderously with another smile and seemed to insist that she take the drink. “Just sit it on the table.” She said flatly and stood up. The drone’s posture seemed to drop like it was disappointed and did as instructed.

Fingertips ran along the angular hull of the giant vehicle and her sneakers scarcely made a sound on the concrete as she first glanced up towards the living area. No one else seemed to be home and only the ambient noise of muffled city traffic filled the air. She didn’t want to be seen snooping and simply walked like a curious cat towards the only other vehicle in the shop, though it wasn’t a customer or contract job.

Low to the floor, the gentle curvature of the roof was barely above her waistline. The stout bars of a complex roll cage frame were visible between wide rear tires while the formed aluminum monocoque that covered the aft section was removed; sitting aside with several components of the upper engine assembly and two substantial rear spoilers that hung on the back wall, one of which was visibly damaged. Alese leaned against the steel bumper of the MCPD stryker and looked over it for a moment, like some champion fighter in the locker room being made ready for the arena. Her eyes slowly drifted up to the damaged wing and she felt her breath pause for just a moment before she finally sighed while thoughts passed letting her shoulders relax again. She didn’t really expect to find anything different. Both turbos were laid out neatly with their brief, coiling downpipes that continued to a pair of what were essentially sound canons that would go in last before the shell was replaced. Norris had been putting it back together which meant there were credits to be made. She pursed her lips slightly and turned away, drumming her nails on the hood of the massive police vehicle. Her sportbike was sitting happily, tucked in the opposite corner like a loyal pet, bright orange and excited, but she hadn’t ridden it in nearly two weeks.

As she stepped away, the drone reappeared abruptly with another cup of coffee and her terminal. She eyed the first cup still steaming for a moment and took the second attempt in hand along with the terminal again. “Much better.” She said, though taking a cautious sip. Her eyes perused the media feeds while the drone gently maneuvered behind her as if angling to read the text from over her shoulder. She shrugged and stepped away to keep the screen from its glance. “Don’t be so nosey.” She chided, sitting down on the step up to the driver’s side of the stryker. Nothing too exciting although a runner from one of the Sk8ter cells turning up dead at the Spire was a bit of a strange anecdote in the rest of the regular city drama, particularly that, according to the report, he had fallen to his death and stranger still, was completely empty-handed. Most of the reports she rapidly checked basically followed with the same description and not a lot of detail. It wasn’t unusual for MCPD to put a lid on a story, but this one felt particularly terse, even from some of the news beats that were generally favorable to the police force. A runner falling wasn’t totally unheard of, but dropping to their death without any kit was an eyebrow raiser. Every Sk8ter she knew at least carried some level of gear, much of which was designed to prevent them from such a fate. She gave a small huff of amusement. It probably wouldn’t matter and would be forgotten in a few days, but it might be interesting gossip and she knew a few people that would be keen to know the real story. She was in the middle of another sip when a random synthesized voice startled her out of the quiet distraction nearly causing her to jump out of her skin and almost spill coffee everywhere.

Time to work!

Alese looked up hatefully at the drone. “Oh, so now you’re talking?” She said, flicking away drips of coffee that teetered over the edge and ran down the side of the mug.

I. Work… Alese.” It responded. Reading her narrowed brow and sensing the growl in her words, it changed its tone, scouring the net in a fraction of a second in an attempt to find a soothing voice to replicate. “Can. We… Work?” Somewhere, the AI’s algorithms decided a cartoon character's sing-song tenor would be an appropriate counter for its creator’s displeasure, however observing her extremely unsatisfactory reaction, it began to slowly reverse away.

I think I’m gonna erase your memory.

Please. No.
discord.com/invite/v2wFVpqU

Made a discord for this if anyone is interested in plotting.

Note- I'm a night shift worker so if you jump in during the day (EST US) and I don't answer, just give me a few hours.
Jonathan McCord


The footpad of Jon’s Marauder came down firmly on the frozen body of one of the former Crimson Fist pilots. If there had been a way to articulate the reverse-jointed mech’s step to emulate grinding out a spent cigarette, he probably would have done it. How the man got there instead of dying in his cockpit, Jon didn’t really care. As he watched the crescendo of the Crimson Fists’ lance destruction, he reckoned the two mechs that fell when the Knights blasted the ancient stone bridge into rubble probably hit a decent velocity before they impacted the jagged rock below. It was fitting that their pilots were headed in the correct direction for their journey into the afterlife.

Unfortunately, his path was also cut off, which meant it would cost him about an hour to doubleback down the mountain and take the long way around before he could pick up another trail that would put him on the Knights’ path back to the tunnels. He waited momentarily as he recalled the path from memory simultaneously listening for the sound of some bad news that was yet missing. He glanced up, waiting, and after only a few seconds at a break in the clouds, caught a glimpse of the second Mechbuster already high enough to be pulling contrails behind its delta wing. “Shit.” He grumbled as its high afterburner finally echoed through the pass, nose pointed directly back towards Balya Gora.

Even though the presence of the aircraft had been unexpected, it still felt like a failure letting one escape, which as he watched the Knights depart for the second time since the dam, he remembered the Warhammer had got away as well. There was an urge to head back down the mountain and track it down, but he knew it would be a foolish attempt at this point and his instructions from Cassandra were to proceed to Uncle Mack’s once the mission concluded. Whether or not Cassandra had informed Colonel Wayne of this deviation was another matter, but that was above his pay grade. Sending those pukes straight to hell did carry a certain level of satisfaction that would be best enjoyed with a cigarette later.

Ossie’s torso and legs turned away from the remains of the battle like an animal that had lost interest. Jon briefly glanced at the main display mounted near his left knee to again verify his BattleROM had been recording. Zapping that Mechbuster mid turn had been a pretty slick shot and he was looking forward to rewatching that particular footage. He tapped a few commands to review the route to the scrapyard. He’d never been there, but at least it would be something somewhat similar to home; though he had heard a few rumors about the proprietors, they couldn’t be any worse than what he’d grown up with on the Periphery. He waggled the stick like he always did out of habit, checking the twist for slack and causing the mech to shake off a light dust of snow before heading back down the mountain.
I think there's for sure a couple still going.

Not in any hurry. I work nights so I'm up. We gonna have a discord?

@TheNoCoKid
Reya Wyatt


The helicopter ride was quiet. Cassandra hardly spoke; her glance down, hammering away on a datapad nearly the entire time. Reya watched the terrain pass below as the rotors beat quietly above the sound-insulated cabin. It was the first time she had rode in a helicopter in years. As they entered the pattern for the capital and descended she could see the main runway at Balya Gora and there in plain view was the No Leaf Clover and the Dittohead still sitting in the exact place where they had left them so long ago. Her eyes seemed to cut straight to them before anything else. Just the sight of the two ships felt unreal after all she had seen and been through with Gaiwan’s Green Knights. Memories flashed behind her glance and for a moment she could feel her heartbeat pickup faster. She breathed in and exhaled slowly, restraining herself in the movement so as not to draw judgment from Cassandra. The helicopter banked and in the distance the massive dish of the Hyperpulse Generator passed by the window. She swallowed a small lump in her throat seeing the waiting helipad next to the growing afternoon shadow of the massive structure. Cassandra slid her sunglasses down.

They touched down softly and the blades eased to a stop as the engine wound down. An acolyte stood outside waiting while the pilot slid open the door. Reya had no sunglasses and had to shield her eyes from the stark brightness of sunlight reflecting off the freshly washed white stone beneath her feet. Her vision adjusted slowly from the dark furnishings inside the helicopter and she squinted to try and keep up with Cassandra, looking for the other woman’s shadow.

Cassandra, good afternoon.” a male voice announced softly. As Reya’s eyes still struggled to adjust, another figure materialized as much as he stepped forward. “And Miss Wyatt, welcome.

Never miss an opportunity to make an impression, do you?” Cassandra said. The amused smirk on her face was obvious in her words even without it being seen.

The fact that her name was already known was slightly unsettling, but she assumed it had to be on the flight plan Cassandra’s pilot filed in order to land on the pad within the compound. Her eyes finally focused in the brightness of the day and she found an extended hand waiting. She extended her own and he clasped it with both hands, shaking it gently. His touch was delicate, like a gardener handling a potted plant. “I am the Precentor of this facility, but you may call me by name, Jerrard. These are my adepts and acolytes at your service.” He motioned. The cloaked figure standing by nodded at the introduction and she saw another tending a small flower bed along the entrance from the helipad. The grass in the courtyard around them was impeccably groomed and brilliantly green like a sports stadium.

She hadn’t been to a Comstar facility since she was a child, but she knew all the jokes, stereotypes, urban legends and general apprehension most people held, much of it justified, when it came to presumptions about the “Holy Order”. However at a glance, he was unlike any of the images or media typically circulated. Rather than the formal robes worn by the acolytes and adepts that were present, he wore something akin to a conservatively cut Victorian-era suit. Exquisitely tailored, the vest and jacket were white and silver-gray respectively, matching slacks and a gold patterned silk cravat around his neck. Just based on style alone, Reya could see why Cassandra liked him. He was an older man and not much taller than her, but still had a fullness of color in his crisply cut dark hair and neatly trimmed thin mustache. There was a parental air about him that unnerved her as if he already knew everything she was going to say - like she was a teenager coming to confess about crashing the family car. His glance was not intimidating though, and there was welcomeness about him that was disarming. Reya only bowed in return in the way of formal introductions within the Combine. Further words just didn’t feel appropriate.

Have you eaten?

Utterly famished, let’s go upstairs.” Cassandra answered though her tone seemed to denote a demand to get down to business rather than any sense of hunger. She started walking.

Lunch was served at a small table on a rooftop terrace overlooking the courtyard and the capital in the distance. Like everything else about the compound, the entire presentation was spotless and in perfect order; from the washed white monolithic stone construction to the placement of the finely ornate china on the tabletop which was naturally draped in a brilliant white linen tablecloth without even the slightest hint of a crease. Jerrard sipped coffee from a small cup, having already studied the contents of the datapad before him without so much as a hint of a reaction while Cassandra nonchalantly applied a spread to a small piece of toasted bread as if she owned the place. There was an obvious unspoken sparring between them, but the dynamic was not tense, nor was it totally relaxed, very much like a wealthy noble coming to a member of the clergy for a favor. Reya sat quietly through the initial small talk and as the dishes were placed, waited with hands folded in her lap for Jerrard to go first. A surprisingly wide variety of items were set before them with dashes of color and symmetry from what had to have been prepared by a professional chef. After weeks of rations, protein bars and trail mix, it was perhaps the best meal she had ever tasted though she noticed only her place at the table included a pair of chopsticks.

You should know that Premier Federov requested an audience earlier today.” Jerrard said. There was a distinctive Marik accent to his speech, formal and skeptical simultaneously. Reya noticed he hardly made eye contact when he spoke, but always seemed to glance away slightly as if in reflection, only turning to his audience when he wanted to make a point. “I had my staff politely inform his envoy that I was not available.

It would appear his reach has finally exceeded his grasp.

The Precentor gave a small sigh. “At the outset of this debacle, it was the Order’s policy, as well as my own, to remain neutral in this matter.” He continued, pausing for satirical irony. “Now those who applauded my neutrality clamor publicly for my favor in dispatching a foe they have yet been able to vanquish.

Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.” Cassandra said, daintily replenishing her wine glass from what looked like a finely aged green bottle.

You already knew this was a frame up.” Reya said. She didn’t think or plan it, the words just came out, but her tone was polite enough. It was merely a plain statement of fact.

Of course, my child, Comstar knows all.” He replied. A statement of fact as much as her own.

Reya looked back at him, sensing the incredulous glance of Cassandra, just for a second letting her eyes examine the small golden lapel pin he wore: A subtle pair of Greek letters AK. A small flower was pinned to his jacket above, similar to Edelweiss, but had been modified to grow with a red coloring down the stigma to resemble the motif of Comstar. She considered her words: “But you won’t just declare them outlaws even though you know they did this.” She said, her glance narrowed some though not accusatorily, it was the look of her own nebulous thoughts about the entirety of the mystery that was Espia coming together in her mind. “You want something else… or Comstar wants something else…

Yes, you are correct. The presence of the Green Knights here on this planet has created an… opportunity, for the Order,” He paused and studied Reya like a professor lecturing a student. ”More than one opportunity, as it were…” His glance drifted off again. “Had Colonel Gaius Wayne’s company never come to this planet, it would have been more difficult to leverage what we suspect.

What do you mean?

As I'm sure you are aware, many things about this planet are indeed, merely for appearances-

There's no need to be cryptic with us, Jerrard,” Cassandra said, arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair. “I want the Green Knights exonerated today.

Jerrard gave a small chuckle and calmly sipped from his cup again. “You see how she speaks with me?” He said in a quiet tone of feigned offense, looking at Reya as if she were a neutral party. “The data you presented will allow me to apply pressure, but you will need to have faith in the methods that I select.

As long as it gets done.

You have my word.

Reya started to speak, but stopped as a cloaked figure approached. The form was vaguely feminine, but hard to tell for certain. The hood hovered next to Jerrard’s ear and whispered a message leaving him with a slight hint of annoyance. He took in a breath and exhaled. “How tiresome.

Are we boring you?” Cassandra asked.

Jerrard shook his head with a small grin and his expression lightened from whatever the news had been. The Adept stepped back, but did not leave. “Cassandra, you could hardly ever be boring, such is the spice of life for an old man in retirement.” He motioned with one hand to Reya. “You’ve even brought Miss Wyatt here for us to host.

Retirement?” Reya glanced at him strangely.

Semi-retired.” Cassandra corrected with a tilt of her head back towards Reya indicating it was some matter of jest between the two of them.

Yes, ‘semi’ retired.” Jerrard acknowledged. “There was a time when I was not far removed from the First Circuit, I was physician to Primus Tiepolo for most of my career. We graduated from the same university on Atreus. He was a good friend and convinced me to join the Order as a member of his staff. He instructed me on the operations of the HPG network though it was not my forte.

So what happened? I know he passed away.

Jerrard gave a small sigh at a passing thought. “Julian had an excellent read on people and was a fair judge even when his colleagues chose to betray him. He understood the balance of the First Circuit tilting towards what it has become and advised me to leave for a remote posting. He facilitated my appointment on Espia and so here I am, enjoying… semi-retirement.

Reya hesitated, glancing at Cassandra who seemed to be momentarily entertained with the exchange. She knew he had left the air hanging just to toy with her curiosity just like the chopsticks left for only her place at the table. The momentum of her mind and the conversation were building as if he had been waiting since before they even sat down. The possibilities about what else he knew about her were burning through her psyche, but something told her not to ask, begged even, something dark in the back of her mind that was afraid of what she would hear. If she didn't ask though, she’d be a fool for wasting the opportunity and the fear of never getting another chance to question someone of his rank and knowledge was impossible to ignore. She knew it was selfish, but her conscience bargained that whatever else she could get out of him might potentially help the Knights.

And so that’s all there is?

What else do you wish to know?

She hesitated for a moment, but the courage came:“What do you know about me?

Jerrard regarded her and Reya felt like his glance pierced directly through her like some spirit she’d allowed into her home and now had to confront.

ISF agents this far out of Kuritan space are easily noticed despite their attempts at subterfuge. At first we suspected they were after your Dr. Yuri, but there was nothing in her past of note other than conflict with the Kuritan policy towards mercenaries, so she was not enough to stir their interest, having been with your Colonel for some time. So there was something or someone else with which they were interested.

Reya’s countenance turned as white as the tablecloth at the mention of the ISF and Cassandra’s glance seemed to fall somewhere between wonderment and pity at her travel partner, though she was clearly interested in how scandalous the story was going to be. Reya looked down at the table like a child caught in a terrible lie. While her mind raced, her voice was quiet, barely audible over the distant hum of the city and the breeze across the terrace. “It’s because I’m not on the payroll, you wouldn’t see me on the roster… I didn’t need the money…

Quite. You certainly caused us to look deeper than a cursory update to the MRB and at that point my interest was piqued. You did cover your tracks well enough, but your work here spoke very loudly. Once my agent had fully profiled the Green Knights, I was able to uncover the connections that brought you here. I suspected you used Dr. Yuri as something of a template when you were selecting a mercenary outfit for your adventure. She was evidence the Green Knights were a safe home for Combine citizens, despite the prejudices of Colonel Wayne, while the size of the company would leave you outside the notice drawn by a higher profile organization."

Yes.

My child, you greatly underestimated your significance. There was simply no possibility the Combine was going to let one of their most treasured instruments of the Imperial Institute simply disappear into the Periphery to develop mining lasers, particularly with your pedigree and academic history…” He spoke calmly as if describing something both beyond belief and which she should have been shockingly aware. “However, I made arrangements to send their operatives in all manner of wrong directions and we have since watched your career with great interest.

Well aren't you the little celebrity.” Cassandra nearly had to stifle a laugh.

Reya felt like she was simply going to sink through the chair itself. Now not only were they still fighting for their lives, even if they got off this hellscape of dirt and salt, she would have the ISF hunting for her just to drag her back home. The dishonor to the family name would be unbearable and there was no telling what they might do if anyone from Knights tried to stand in their way. She never believed they would care enough to come after just one person with no royal ties or relations, but they had apparently made it all the way to the other side of the Inner Sphere looking. Her heartbeat hit so hard that it was a physical pain. She swallowed a dry lump in her throat that felt like a boulder before she looked back at Jerrard. “So you were helping me?

In some ways, yes.” Jerrard replied, catching a faint eye roll from Cassandra. He continued, casual with the topic no differently than if he’d been discussing the weather: “As I’m sure you are aware, there was a time that the Order would have likely seen fit to place a mind such as yours into an… unfortunate accident. Some would even say we are still no more removed from that philosophy than we were a century ago. Such actions have sadly given us all the reputation we now carry, but this was never the intention of our Progenitor-

Reya cut him off, feeling a burst of defiance she knew was only hopeless logic: “So if I had just been killed in the coup with the others- then what would you have done?” She could feel tears in her eyes.

Miss Wyatt,” Jerrard began. His tone changed and was subtly anew with a sense of consolement and even warmth. “Like yourself, I am a student of science, however as I have grown older and spent more time within the Order, I came to accept that the nature of some things in this reality require a certain measure of… faith. You escaped the capital that day, you survived living as a vagabond in the woods, in a cave no less, then again with no experience as a soldier or a spy, you survived a combat raid and a bout of espionage and still in spite of the odds of success in all of this and the added probability of you being personally delivered to this facility, here you sit, at this table, at this time with evidence of great value to our Order that will simultaneously exonerate the reputation of Colonel Gaius Wayne and his mercenary company... Some of my more devout colleagues would have called it the Will of Blake.

Look now, you’ve scared her to death.

I am a terrible host to be sure, but that was never my intention,” His gaze didn’t leave Reya. “I understand this is a lot for her, but it is better that she is aware of the much larger world to which she has interjected herself.

Reya stared ahead. Her mind was simultaneously blank and a chaotic explosion so fierce that she didn’t think she could form words to her lips, or even put them together cogently. She continued to look at the table set before her, eyes hollow at the simple image of reality provided to her brain. It sounded like Cassandra and Jerrard briefly exchanged some comments about her situation, but she didn’t comprehend any of the words. For the first time in her life, the only solution that she could think of was to just kill herself and be completely removed from the disaster she had caused; saving the rest of the Knights and her family in the act, though before she could generate the visceral thought any further an image of Sunny’s face flashed through her mind, smiling brightly and then Diego and it burned her heart like a fire.

Cassandra appeared to be gathering her bag to depart and end the meeting.

WAIT.” She snapped, looking up. Cassandra appeared bemused by someone thinking to give her an order, a quip formed on her lips, but Reya cut her off and looked back at Jerrard. “Do you know where Lena is?

Jerrard turned back, studying her again. He lifted his hand in a small wave and the Adept folded her hood back, revealing the vibrant green hair of Stiletto. “This is my agent whom you met in North Nui Awa. I assure you, despite her unorthodox appearance, she is exceedingly efficient in her work. She made contact with Miss Von Kemp shortly before she met you. However, like you, Miss Von Kemp has proven particularly resourceful. While I do believe she is most definitely alive, probably not far from where we sit at this moment, I have no recent information on her whereabouts.

"Now that’s out of your system, let’s go." Cassandra said with finality; looking down at Reya as she tossed her bag over her shoulder.

Allow me to see you off from the helipad.

The afternoon breeze gusted over the pad, pulling Reya’s hair towards the sea with the smell of minerals as she walked behind Cassandra’s purposeful stride. Despite the energy she had felt at the end of the conversation, she now felt completely drained and directionless, unsure if or how she would even begin to explain herself. Jerrard and Cassandra again exchanged pleasantries as she stood to the side next to the same cloaked acolyte that had greeted their arrival. Stiletto remained a step behind Jerrard and did not speak, but Reya could feel the eyes of the other woman.

I want you to know that despite what you have learned today, you do not need to fear for the future.” Reya had been looking down and hadn’t even noticed the Precentor now standing in front of her, his hands clasped together in a gentlemanly presentation. She looked up and met his eyes, but felt empty towards anything else he could tell her.

The Order has its… eccentricities,” He continued, his demeanor as calm and serene as it had been nearly the entire time. “But it has been very good to me in my life and it is a generosity that I only rarely get to extend. You have my word that I will ensure the Combine’s agents remain misled, even after you leave this planet.” He stopped, seeming to reflect on the small assembly around him, turning his glance towards the sky and the sparse clouds beginning to hue with orange and red. He took in a slow breath and then exhaled before turning back to her. “Our founder's intention was for knowledge and innovation to be preserved for humanity’s benefit. A budding young mind should not be crushed by dogma or politics, whatever path you choose, Miss Wyatt, should you desire, there would always be a place for you here.

Reya’s countenance shifted in a shocked surprise and her mouth opened slightly at what she heard. Her eyes searched over towards Stiletto who glanced back expressionless then at the other faceless figures clad in their robes. She looked back down for a moment then shook her head slowly, lifting back her gaze back to him. “I- I could never leave the Knights, especially not now…I..

Jerrard raised a hand to stop her, though he looked pleased with the answer. “Most assuredly. I understand, my child, I would be disappointed if you had made such a decision so easily,” He took the flower from his lapel and presented it to her. “This is my sigil, it will grant you access to this facility at any time, the sentries will summon me directly. Perhaps if fate again determines, we will see each other again. May the Peace of Blake go with you.

The helicopter lifted off and Jerrard stood watching it climb into the evening with the sound of the rotors fading into the distance. “Inform Premier Federov I intend to declare the Crimson Fists to be an outlaw command, but do not transmit the message to the MRB. I want you to carefully monitor their communications thereafter. Their reaction is our real action and should disturb their true puppet masters.

Stiletto bowed at the command, but hesitated before leaving.

Speak your mind, my child.” He didn’t turn from watching the helicopter move further into the horizon.

She would have thrived here with us.

Such a convert could never be taken against her will, she would only hate us. She must decide on her own. It is these times when we must have the same hope as the Progenitor. The stars and fate itself will see to her future.

Still, I know it pained you to watch her go.

Jerrard watched the helicopter finally disappear from sight and his shoulders relaxed with a small sigh. “Verily, but such is the way of the universe... So many are called, but so precious few, are chosen.
I'm down for plotting if anyone wants. Hit me up.
I normally don't post WIPs, but i think in this case it may be helpful as we all get on the same page with plotting.

Only one "original" location at the bottom, hope that is okay. Otherwise I pretty much only have background to finish. I didn't want to give away everything in the CS, but wide open to plotting if we get a chat going.



EDIT: All done and ready.
This almost looks like slice of life in a cyberpunk setting. I have a couple ideas and might dabble.
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