Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Streets of Monterrey -> La Hacienda

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Caesar said little as the limousine traveled along the streets of Monterrey. There was the occasional grunt and nod of agreement as they discussed their plans for the day, or rather, as Benecio addressed Cecily and Natasha about their plans for the day. Caesar had buried many people. He knew the drill. Benecio had officiated the deaths of many people. He also knew the drill. But with the (slightly) younger Gonzalez brother talking, one might have seen the hurt in his eyes. This was personal. This was his niece laying dead in the hearse in front of them. Talking seemed to keep his emotions in greater check.

The old man's voice was heard, in the form of an irritated "¡Ay!" as their car took a corner and ran over the edge of the sidewalk, again, the second time since they set out. A muffled but equally irritated "Sorry!" could be heard from the other side of the partition in perfect American accent. Caesar lowered the partition about an inch, just enough for clear communication. He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead shook his head and remained silent. Benecio was conversational, if understanding of their position. "If either of you ladies feel the need to rest your eyes for the trip, I will not be offended. Travel takes a lot out of me, too. There is time for a short nap." But he did continue, "La Hacienda Gonzalez is a lovely place, but it was not always thus. Originally, it was an old Spanish Mission, built to service the needs of a pilgrims and travelers on the road. There were rumors that evil spirits haunted the mountains very nearby. It was used as a fort for a time, after the church pulled out, and then as the centerpiece of a village, until it was mostly abandoned. This is where Caesar and I grew up.

Caesar gave Benecio a long, hard look as he gave up a portion of their life story. It wasn't really much of a huge deal, though. He was just curious as to why his brother was being so forthcoming. But the subtle lines of pain in his face let him know. Caesar sighed, but he did begin talking. Laying a hand on Benecio's shoulder, he picked up for him. "There wasn't a lot of us left. Almost everyone moved out. Rest of us were familia by blood or marriage. We just built it up. Walls, wells, additions to the homes. With our hands at first, then we could put money into it. It looked nice when I saw it last. Been years."

"It is still beautiful, hermano." responded Benecio, speaking as much to their guests as to Caesar. "Three houses with courtyards, surrounding a larger courtyard. Spanish tile, cobblestones, thick, soft grasses and moss. Pools, gardens. I have taken every cent you have sent us, Caesar, put it into our home." his voice shifted, "You should come back to us. It's yours, anyway. I'm just taking care of it for you."

The elder Mexican growled softly and refused to respond.

The rest of the trip passed with Benecio answering any questions thoughtfully and honestly. They had made it out of the city proper, and the buildings became smaller and more rural in nature almost immediately. Similarly, they became much more spaced out. Their speed increased now that they had hit more open road, and in less time than one might give the distance credit, they were pulling up a gentle hill toward what looked like a manned fort.

It was everything that Caesar and Benecio had described, and more. High, thick walls surrounded the estate, topped with curved iron bars in some places and thick, jagged glass in others. There were many people present, and many vehicles sporting campers, along with the occasional RV. Tents were set up, grills, pavilions, etc., as if this were a public park or campsite. The occasional generator dotted the scene with heavy cords running from them. But that was just on the outside. There was a gateway of carved stone encircling wrought-iron gates and formidable wooden doors bound with black metal. These were open, revealing a huge courtyard with grass and benches in the center. Three traditional looking Spanish Colonial houses were constructed around this courtyard, two stories tall each and all of them looking very much like they were trapped in time. The one in the center was decidedly larger than the other two, sporting a partial third floor to the rear that appeared useful as a guard post or sniping area. Balconies were everywhere, stone and metal both.

People moved from place to place within the estate, casually doing their work or merely visiting, but very few went into the larger dwelling. The limo pulled into an open-air parking garage reminiscent of a stable, and the car's engine cut off. They had arrived. Benicio was the first to speak, "If you do not wish your bags to be handled by others, please mention now. Otherwise, I will show you to your rooms." He opened his door and stepped to one side to get the other door, holding up a finger to halt the men approaching the vehicle.

Meanwhile, Caesar exited the door nearest him and tapped on the driver's window. A much younger lady slowly opened the door and stepped out. The only thing that marked her as a chauffeur was her cap; the rest of her attire consisted of semi-perforated jeans, a long green shirt, and a fitting, leather motorcycle jacket. She popped off the cap and lay it in the driver's seat, closing the door behind her. She was lighter of skin and had bobbed pixie cut of thick, black hair that looked like it was two weeks past needing a trim, falling just over glaring, hazel eyes common to a particular bloodline. The two of them looked at one another for a solid few seconds. It was abruptly cut off by a sharp clapping sound as the young lady's hand found connection with the side of Caesar's face, causing an instant stopping of everything happening nearby. Movement ceased.

Another two tense seconds passed, and the woman burst into loud, unrestrained tears, wrapping Caesar into a deceptively strong embrace. Caesar wordlessly returned the gesture, just allowing her to get all of her emotion out. Benicio, ever the diplomat, looked to Cecily and Natasha, "This is personal. Let us get you settled in. Please follow me."

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J. Keystone

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Location: Streets of Justice -> Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub

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In Justice, there was an interesting and particularly stuffed group of MSS employees in an outfitted Dodge Ramcharger hauling ass down the streets and boulevards, pulling haphazardly done California Rolls through intersections where turns were required, and otherwise cruising along in moderate to high spirits. Well, moderate spirits, if we were being honest. The truth was, despite getting the feeling that the Seattle Tech guys were an okay group of people, Keystone felt a sudden twang of guilt. "Shoulda gone with 'em..." he grumbled to no one in particular, maneuvering the vehicle down the road all the while.

"What?" This from Ibanez, in the passenger seat beside him.

"Mexico. Shoulda gone. I knowed Alicia pretty good, better'n a lot. Trained me, she did, protocol and such, whenever they set up in London. Lot of one-on-one stuff. We was friends. I shoulda gone with 'em to see 'er off."

From the backseat, a female voice sounded, "Hey asshat! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. We're all here because we knew her, and we got a job to do. All five of us to take one little her's place, and we still don't have our final piece yet. We're giving her honor by doing our jobs, damnit. Visit her fucking grave later."

Keystone nodded. She was a bitch but she was right. "Fair 'nuff, ya twatbiscuit. All's said an' done, I'm takin' us all on a trip that way, then. Sip tequila, tell Taco Belle stories, yeah?"

About at that time, they pulled up to the first security checkpoint for Queensguard. Keystone flashed his credentials, as did the others in his vehicle. They were promptly scanned, a cursory exterior check was performed on the Ramcharger (plus other, less obvious electronic sweeps), and they were waved in. The big man drove past the regular parking lot, just a touch deeper into the complex before pulling into the Motor Pool. "Sorry 'bout the added walk, lady and gent. Grab your stuff, let's hoof it to the Hub."

As the group removed themselves from Keystone's vehicle and reacquired their gear, Keystone waved over the officer in charge of the garage. "Look, this bugger's a great ride, but she needs some touches, y'understand. Bring her entertainment package into this millennium, yeah? Bloody music system, somethin' I can copy m'tunes into. Bloody radio package, the send 'n' receive type, yeah? GPS! Voice activated 'lecronics! Bloody tow hitch! Automatic cable winch! Make it a modern bloody security wagon! Bulletproof is tops, but that's all she's got." He began to walk back to his Tech crew, but called back behind him, "Full options! No clunky "in my fongin' way" tripe, neither! Replace the dash if you gotta. You got 'til end of business, today. This is your only job." Hopefully, they'd get it done. And by "hopefully", he meant, "heads will roll otherwise".

A few more minutes saw them back at the Security Hub, where the Tech Crew fell into line like they owned the place. They quickly began taking over desk space and rearranging furniture until they had their own knot of technology, existing and their imported gear, and had direct line of sight with each other. Their computers and other personal electronics were interconnected, building upon each other and interfacing with zero lag as a single unit possessing multiple access points. The existing staff could only sit back and witness what was going on, as Keystone gave them the occasional glare or shush gesture. When they were set up, he addressed the rest of the people in the Hub.

"This 'ere's our new Tech Team. Rest of you lot're gonna fall in line under'em. I catch a bloody hint of negative, you are fired, and I will toss you through a bloody window. Send your last fortnight's pay to intensive care. This here's the real deal, ladies and gents. You ain't fully with this, get your arse out. Now." He looked around the room, eyeballing everyone still around. You'll adjust. For the now, someone make coffee. Lots. Give them whatever they need, period."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@Lady Amalthea

My apologies, it looks like my more creative urges got the better of me. Message received. Will keep to an existing character's post. (I really don't want to play The Ringmaster as a PC. <shudders>)

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Российский императорский цирк

[Russian Imperial Circus)

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The Ringmaster, a shrewd and fairly portly individual named Viktor, was busy with his attendants trying to squeeze himself into a man-girdle when he heard his name being called, nay, shouted into the late morning air. He threw a shirt on over the not-quite-fastened torso restraining device and poked out from his personal tent, located near where the action usually was.

Viktor knew what was going on with Veta, but seeing how many hands were on the case already had slipped back to the tents to ready himself to meet the public, if such an event were necessary. The best way he figured he could help involved dealing with people outside of the Circus, organizing the personnel (aside from the Bazhooli Sem'ya, that was Vladimir's concern), and keeping things running smoothly while those who could help directly did so. There was also the painful necessity of drafting letters to the Emperor and the Imperial Court if the unthinkable were to occur, and the Grand Duchess not make it.

Naturally, that letter would be delayed by a day or two while another, faster moving one was sent, detailing the immediate need for additional monies and supplies for Elizaveta's betterment.

He heard the urgent tone in Constantin's voice, and as soon as he saw the younger man running about, screamed back at him. "Cold Veather Gear? It is in STORAGE VAGONS! STORAGE! Back of the Tent City!" He pointed in the general direction of the cargo wagons forming a blockade around the back of the area. It was all common knowledge, but perhaps he was looking for the Noble(ish) Ringmaster because he knew every nook and cranny of the Circus like the back of his hand. If anyone could locate something buried in storage months ago, and quickly, it would be him. And because it was Veta, he would make sure it was handled immediately. "Come, come. Tell me vhat you need, I vill get..." He managed a jog back to a specific cargo wagon, waving Constantin back with him.

Co-GM's Note: For the sake of simplicity, just assume that Viktor locates and gets you what you need, as long as you tell him specifics.

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Meanwhile, the younger Alexandrov, Konstantin (yes, but with a "K") sprinted along as fast as he could, pausing only long enough to snatch up a live coal with a set of tongs from a cooking brazier, plus a handful of wadding. By the time he got to Elizaveta's tent (a place where he would otherwise never dare tread), others were arriving. He set at once to light a solid fire in the tent's blackened iron stove. It would provide plenty of heat, but not a lot in the way of light, for a couple of hours before needing tending. Hopefully, the Grand Duchess would be a little better by then.

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Passive Skills:

• Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
• Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City (Regent's Park)

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The Great Bazhooli did not quite notice the lack of warmth in himself. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline passing through his blood, his heart pumping at a rate that propelled him to action above personal safety. But he was freezing cold. What he did notice was the block of barely breathing ice that was shaped like his little Veta that he carried in his arms. No matter how cold he might have been, she felt colder still against his skin.

The tiger, Myshka, was doing a truly admirable job clearing the road for him. He seemed to instinctively know exactly where they were going and what to do when they got there. The animal was probably just as waylaid by the cold as he was, probably moreso despite his larger body mass. It was a kind of love/hate relationship with Myshka. He seemed to get along fine with Vladimir, even follow some simple commands that he would issue, but only if it meant getting to or helping Elizaveta. Otherwise, he took his life in his hands just as much as any other poor soul that got that close to a territorial 500 pound kittycat. But times like this, they worked together well, their only things in common being an attachment to the Circus and a mutual love for the young Romanova.

As soon as Myshka situated himself in Veta's bed, Vladimir lay his charge next to the great beast. He level of worry increased at that point, fueled by the desperation of a lack of options. At least while he was carrying her to possible safety, he was doing something. His efforts at using the Krasnoye were seemingly ineffective against whatever afflicted her, and there was nothing else he could do. Now that his usefulness was over... Vladimir slumped into a sullen heap to sit upon the floor of Veta's tent, leaning against the central pole. The fire was lit in the tent stove, pushed closer to her bed. Any moment now, Constantin should be returning with a bed warmer they could load up with hot coals to really get that temperature up. Any moment now.

Suddenly, he sprung up from the floor, a purposeful smile on his face. "Bottles!" he cried, pointing his fingers in the air with the most grandiose of "AHA!" moments. Perhaps there was somethig useful he could do. "Ve need bottle! Glass bottle! Clay bottle! Stone, steel, full vith vater! Yes!" The intent was to place said bottles upon the tent stove, thusly making quick and simple, bed-friendly sources of replaceable heat. "HA!"

With that, he ran for the exit.

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_{"He sent out His word and healed them, and delivered them from their destruction."}

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Location: Regent's Park -> Russian Imperial Circus - Tent City (Regent's Park)

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The Circus seemed to be in some sort of uproar, though for what reason Mary could not tell. The sudden twitching of her young charge, Adam, followed by a eerily serious command issuing direction was noted by Mary with some wonder and concern. The last couple of days had taken her from normal (or what passed for normal for her) to the cusp of one of her greatest fears: an uprising of Soulless that threatened all of Humanity. With this in mind, she was willing to take a few things on faith. Taking things on faith was in her job description, anyway.

Mary reined her horse in the direction that Adam pointed, her heart filling with a sense of dread purpose. She was fully in the belief that the boy, through whatever window of Divinity, had been given the task of guiding her in that moment. Of course thinking logically, if someone like Mary were needed in a hurry, enough to warrant guidance from on high, it could not be good. Her talents mostly lay in rooting out and destroying threats to God's children, waging wars both quiet and overt upon the Soulless. Yes, she had to get wherever Adam was pointing.

As soon as her decision was etched upon her face in stone, Mary and Adam were greeted in extreme passing by a massive, white tiger, bounding along on its own direct path. The crowd parted, as any sensible group of persons should when an animal that dangerous moves among them. Mary noted with some satisfaction that the tiger was moving in generally the same direction that Adam pointed while having his curious episode just then. Again with satisfaction, Mary noted too that Cassius didn't react whatsoever to the massive apex predator rushing past them. Immediately afterward, what appeared to be a Russian Nun parting the distance, calling back for Vlad.

"Vlad?" she wondered aloud. "But isn't that...?" Now, while the young Apostolic's brain was focusing on the odd Russian knife thrower who gave her a ride back to St. Etheldreda's, the question she almost got finished asking was answered by that very man, hauling his human cargo as fast as he possibly could through the path that the tiger opened. He did not even notice Mary and Adam atop the splendid grey horse, foreigners within the boundaries of their Great and Most Splendid Tent City. Someone was hurt. And Adam correctly predicted where they were headed, as if Mary needed to be there.

It was a little slower moving, getting to that tent. Tent was perhaps not the most appropriate word for the temporary shelter; Silk and Canvas Palace might have been better. It was opulent as far as tents went. Fit for an Emperor, or at least an Emperor's daughter. Then it hit Mary like a gnawing, burning worry. Who was Vladimir carrying? Mary slid from Cassius and fized his reins to the nearest strong, deep pavilion stake. It was not the most appropriate place for a horse, granted, but it would keep him around until she returned and made apologies later. She took up her halberd and helped Adam down, instructing, "Stick close and stay quiet, Adam. I do not know how we will be received."

With resolve, Mary strode up to the tent with little Adam in tow. She was unsure as to what she might say, but knew that she had to meet this head on. Someone, probably someone she had come to consider a friend in a short time, needed her. She had just raised her hand to announce her presence upon the tent's canvas opening when a familiar face popped out. It was Vlad. And seemed very happy to see her. "Scary Catholic Lady! HA! Da, DA! Come in, you come in, but qvickly!" he barely allowed Mary to cross the threshold before exclaiming her presence in his native Russian, "Это страшная католическая леди! Ах, Дама Мэри Хейл, из Ватикана! Мэри - друг Веты, новая арка-могила. Мы позволим ей помочь, если сможет."₁ "Everybody, out ov vay! Please, Sister-Knight, vill you pray over our Veta? Can you help?"

Mary swallowed and looked over Veta. And her tiger. It was a foregone conclusion that she would have to get within mauling range to help her, so she needed a couple of things first. She offered her main weapon to Adam, stating, "Please take this and stand to the side, Adam. Lay it down carefully if you need to, but out of the way. Thank you." and to Vladimir, "What has happened to her?"

Vladimir dropped most of his pretense, opting for quick, direct answers. "Soulless attack, or Monster. I do not know. Ink-black vith tentacles, vas invisible at first. Had two heads, froze everything it is touching or coming near. Lake became as ice. It vas trying to kill just Veta, like assassin." First the Arch Graveolase, now the Grand Duchess. Highly placed individuals. Mary thought she might be next, now that she had position, however temporary. Well, let them come. People might be ready this time. But the description of the Soulless had her at a disadvantage.

"I cannot claim to know what that was, Master Alexandrov. But I will try to help, if I can." Mary walked over to the unconscious form of Veta on her nicely appointed bed, complete with tiger. She only hoped that Myshka would recognize her as a friend, someone who was there to help his mistress. She removed her rosary from her belt and slowly brought it to Mary's forehead, holding the crucifix lightly to her freezing skin. With her other hand above Elizaveta's heart, Mary began to pray. She focused her prayer into a mental centering as she opened herself up to the Vatican trained skill of Timyne, attempting to drive the affliction from her friend.

"In nomine Patris, et Fillii et Spiritus Sancti. Loving Father, be it Your will, I beg that you shine a ray of Mercy upon your servant, Elizaveta. Remove the corruption and preserve her Soul, O Lord. Knit her flesh, that she may still serve you on Earth. Please spare this woman. Please, in your infinite wisdom and capacity for love, raise her from this affliction and put strength into her limbs. In nomine Patris, et Fillii et Spiritus Sancti.

Back at the tent opening, Vladimir was slowly backing out, mumbling quietly, "...bottlesbottlesbottles..."

Translations

1 = This is Scary Catholic Lady! Ah, Dame Mary Hale, from the Vatican! Mary is a friend to Veta, and the new Arch Graveolase. We will let her help, if she can.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone

Location: Deymins Tower

Interacting With: The Group

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Though Keystone's strike landed upon the door with odd quiet, it clattered loudly against the wall behind it. There was no hiding their presence now. They were quite overtly entering what appeared to be a cared-for dwelling, in contrast to its outside appearance. Yup, they were on the right track. "Bloody wizard lives 'ere, or I'm made of fine, fragrant cheese, I am." He looked back at Thomas, still unbelievably (and seemingly without reason) dealing with a massive stomach issue. Keystone began to actually wonder if Kyra wasn't onto something, asking him if people just threw up whenever he was around. On this particular adventure, there was a disproportionate amount of chunk blowing, and he was the cause of much of it. But this? Nope, sorry. Not today.

"Righty-o then, Tommy old boy." he began, tucking his black knuckles back away and filling his hands with his brass-and-silver ones. "Bloke what makes magic 'nuff to raise an army of dead bastards's about somewheres. If'n we're all gonna snuff it, you may as well strike a pose more dignified to die in, yeah?"

Keystone started into the tower, internally agreeing with the present assessment of the other two already inside. He hadn't expected total quiet, though. Not even a token attempt to dissuade their entry. This looked very much like a trap. If it was, he had literally just set his foot into it. As long as he and his new pals were edging toward brutal, screaming disaster, Keystone thought to take in the sights. Perhaps a clue could be gleaned from the decorations around the room; tapestries and such. But that armor... "First on, I gots me unkind 'istory with empty metal suits and the un-bloody-dead." he started in an even voice while cautiously looking over the nearest set. "Never can tell when they got a surprise for ya."

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

@rivaan

Funny, I always found that upbeat songs tended to mislead.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Merchant Area

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Pudding Pop. Not too horribly colorful, but Foy could not fault the woman too much. Noting the distress it brought to her to say aloud, he surmised that it was due to a lack of practice in the art of fake, flirtations conversations, or that she really did consider Foy to be a horribly distasteful man. Or both; it could very well be both. The extremely dapper fellow was fully aware that his lavish and sophisticated ways tended to put off (as he would put it) persons of the less genteel of upbringing. But Dorothy was an educated woman, possessed of a fine brain and general social ability. Foy was certain she would grasp the meat of his intentions.

He accepted her hand and gave a small, smug smile. Stepping lightly, he continued along, eyes searching for the means to get around the building as soon as possible. There was a glimmer of longing as he heard the bell over the shop door and his eyes momentarily followed the sound to a wonderful sight for the man: A Men's Apparel Shop. Now, were he to have his preference, Foy was significantly more fond of the cut and feel of a bespoke suit, though it may be forgivable to purchase off-the-rack if he could find an appropriate fit and the quality was appropriately reputed. Unfortunately, he could not explore the brands of merchandise nor speak with the tailors present in McTavish's. He had a woman to track, and pursuant to this, a back alley to enter.

As they neared an appropriate entry point, Foy leaned in to speak with Dorothy. With low tones, he queried, "If I may, Doctor, I am merely one of the players upon a stage of your choosing, following your artistic direction. Whatever are your intentions when we find this reprobate? I can play it as soft or as hard as you prefer, but I simply must know beforehand."

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William Harper

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Location: Prometheus - Newhope (Docks)

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As it turned out, with a little forethought it would only take one trip to gather everything without giving himself a hernia in the process. He had a piece of roomy but standard luggage that featured wheels and a sturdy frame that he could pull behind himself, as he did on the Eavestown Docks back in Persephone. The new items that he had acquired were mostly to replace existing ones, so there was only a marginal increase in weight and packaging. The AKM that he had taken from the late Camilla's belongings admittedly was something completely new to him, as he did not carry a long rifle prior to his joining the new crew, but it slung across his shoulder in the ergonomic manner that it was supposed to. It was a tried and true soldier's weapon, and it carried like one.

The remaining items, a crate of preserved fruit and baked goods plus the BOX of ammunition that belonged to the lost crewmember, strapped to his case in the same manner that it had before, though now it was a little higher. Once everything was strapped down, put aside, and loaded for transport, Harper began the task of removing himself and his belongings into his new home. He gave curious nods to Atticus, Daphne, and Jahosafat as he passed them, and in fact stopped to pose a quick question to the native Farradayan Doctor on his way. "I know why I'm doing this, Dr. Moreau. I don't understand you and your friend are, though. Why?" To him, asking a question point blank like that was a serious gamble. His experience of recent years told him that questions led to conflict, and it was best to solve the dilemma on your own, else bribe someone who knew. A payoff was acceptable. A conversation was considered suspect. But he couldn't act like he was still in the Halo, as hard as some habits were to break.

He would have to get to know his new crew, at least a little. And they would have to feel that they trusted him, at least well enough to work alongside one another. Smooth things out with this mixed crew before small problems became big ones, just as long as he didn't get too comfortable. It probably wouldn't hurt for Harper to extend an olive branch to the other pilot either, he reasoned.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Black James(!)

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Location: Near 545 Corinth Rd, Newnan: In the woods. (Not far from the Coweta County Water Authority)

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As soon as the truck was inside of the warehouse, James hopped out and moved toward the loading doors, intent on doing what he promised he would just as soon as he pulled his big truck indoors. It was just starting to warm up, meaning that the Dead would be more active. He didn't want to take any chances, even this early into the season. Of course, the question now became: Deal with the dead out there, or deal with the dead in here? This new wrinkle that might or might not be him actually losing his mind was, at minimum, noteworthy. It seemed that there might be something else he had in common with Ash.

The sense of cautious alarm that was slowly filling James since the three-second appearance of his (sort of) mentor took a sudden halt. The reason for this particular derailing of his emotional train was due to none other than the young lady he had ushered into Newnan, once upon a time. The twinge of panic ceased, abruptly replaced by a sudden chortle that took him by surprise.

The chortle turned into a good natured laugh. "Aight there, Miss Beatrice. You gots yo'self a deal. If I decide to do some killin' on the quick, I promise, you'll go last." Even though the crack was at his expense, it was still pretty funny. He needed a good laugh. Or whatever this was. The moment Ryan stepped back inside within conversational distance, James pulled the loading door back down and slid the locking bar across.

James hadn't witnessed Gavin's outburst, having driven the truck inside of the warehouse when it took place. He continued with their plan to assess, stockpile, and share information, helped along with a generous serving of hope that he just had a minor, stress related incident with that whole "hallucinating the scariest man to ever walk the earth" thing. "Ok, y'all. Plan was for us to get here (which we did), take an inventory of the truck an' that there boat, get us good and equipped to meet the world, then have a sit down 'bout what happens next." He looked around at the people present. After that talk, maybe the other two would be happier heading back to the relative safety of Newnan.

"I'll start with my truck."

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Location: North Of Newnan (Spring & St. Clair) IN A TANK

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To say that Lola was a trying woman was an understatement. She was obnoxious. She was loud. She had zero qualms with announcing her plans to vent horrid air from her rectum, comprised mainly of digestion gasses present after the breakdown of desiccated semi-permanent foodstuffs that were more preservative than actual food. Despite this, she was an honest and dedicated friend to have. Even if she was ...a bit... unrefined. Thalia had known many like that. Not quite as unique as the distinguished Kiwi of the Armored Cavalry division, of that she was dead certain.

And speaking of dead, if her belch were any indication, Thalia would be wise to sleep on top of the tank tonight. Or under it. Whatever she would come to decide then, she needed to do something about the problem upon her now. Reaching above, Thalia unlocked the turret's hatch and raised it to a quarter open position - enough so that she could raise her seat and effectively take in the air outside, even look around a bit, but not so much as to give access.

Thalia groaned with mild irritation. She didn't actually believe that Lola would intentionally make sure to launch an attack on her expressly forbidden by the Geneva Protocol. She did believe that, probably without malice, Lola would crop dust her in the night purely without thinking. It wouldn't have been the first time. This occasion would be fueled by the presently joyous to behold combination of "Chili, and Mac & Cheese... together". La Madrina have mercy on them all. Leaning way down to collect her pack again, she managed to grunt out, "...let one fly while your mouth is open next time." before she managed to hook a strap and bring it back up to her seat.

It looked like an anachronism at face value. Thalia had found the specific object of her search that morning, and pulled a new looking satellite phone from her pack. It was a kind of ritual that she did regularly, trying to contact the numbers saved in her phone. But it wasn't insanity nor stupidity that guided her. As long as the communication satellites flew in space above, as long as the phones were intact and had power, as long as the hardwired memory had the number stored, and as long as the phone was on, it was still fully possible to use them as a communication network. They might have a good number years left for the satellites, but the other factors would likely be the determining ones. Point of fact, since the world turned upside down, she had no success whatsoever except to use the device to play a few games saved to it or consult an outdated map. Things of that nature.

Perhaps they is why the hardened woman, one unaccustomed to shock and awe, announced in a truly amazed voice, "Lolz! Holy shit, Lolz - it's ringing."

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Ash & Thana

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Location: Building 10 (Medical Garden)

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Thinking back on it, Ash had been distracted. He generally wasn't the type to leap before thinking things through, as Thana had put it. But that's precisely what he had been doing all day. Attempted discussion of civil matters sandwiched between pieces of tragedy had been throwing him off, making him glean certainty from possibility. "You're right. I've been jumping the gun today." The most obvious one that struck him was he directly told Thana that he would announce her as Agricultural Lead during the evening meal, then did so within the hour without consulting her. "Goddamnit, I owe you an apology. I've become too accustomed to telling folks the way things are, when I'm not avoiding them."

Ash removed his personal sidearm, a Detonics MXT .45 pistol, and ejected the magazine. He checked the chamber, and satisfied that it was clear, slipped the clip into the webbing of his holster, which he immediately detached from his belt. He looked at his gun for a moment, nodded, and inserted the weapon into said holster. His eyes looked back into Thana's eyes as he placed it into her outstretched hand. "I'm sorry, Thana."

Reaching out a bit more, Thana took the side arm from Ash, nodding slightly as she did. "I know," she said in an understanding voice. Taking her coat from around her waist she placed it into the folds of the fabric to conceal it and set it down for now. She didn't want to leave the medical garden carrying the leaders side arm. It would raise enough questions to why he wasn't wearing one. Having her be the one to carry it, even more.

Now that that was taken care of she let down her defenses a bit. She didn't like to be on duty when they were alone but she had had to be. If he was going crazy, he could be a danger to himself, to others. She had meant what she said, she didn't want to have to put a bullet into his skull. He was the last person on this earth that she would want to do that to but she would if it came down to it, no matter her personal feelings. Reaching out she cupped his cheeks and let out a slow breath as she pulled him closer. Her eyes gazing into his own, there was a gentle understanding in them. "Now, who do we need you to stay close to until you can get a grip on things?" she asked softly as she rested her brow against his.

Ashton had become unused to physical affection. The warm glow he felt from Thana's touch instantaneously lifted his mood, doubly so when she settled her head against his. He closed his eyes and let himself drift, barely catching the scent of her hair in the stiller air inside of the Medical Garden. For a stark second, Ash wondered if this was some rift in his armor; if this was a method that could be used to manipulate him. The idea of it, certainly, but the possibility of it now was laughable. Ludicrous. Even if it was, right then he didn't care. He had his Thana, and just the knowledge of it was an act of merciful healing. "You, Thana. I need you with me. If it happens that I need to be put down, you have an excellent sidearm there to get it done with."

Thana's lips pursed slightly as her fingers curled into his skin. "I'll stay with you but don't joke about that," she said in a firm voice. If she had to she would but it wasn't something she wanted to be made light of, dead should never be a light subject.

He felt his face warm, turning a shade of red otherwise reserved for embarrassment, but present here out of pure, pupil dilating want. It was probably not the most appropriate response at the moment, but it was honest, despite the absolute unpleasantness of the day. "Let's go home."

Leaning back slightly she couldn't help but smirk as her eyes drifted open. "As much as I would like to go home and break in a few rooms, thanks to you I have work to do," she reminded him. Sighing in a playful manner she gave him a quick teasing kiss, nipping at his bottom lip in the process. "Next time keep your mouth shut when it comes to giving out jobs ahead of time. It messes with your down time." Chuckling she popped her cap back on her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Or in this case, your up time."

True, it was highly inconvenient. But so much as Ash wanted her company right then, he could not deny the necessity of her getting her starting duties out of the way. Perhaps he would have her company still, just in a highly different manner than he had initially suggested. More outdoorsy. Significantly more attired. Additionally, if he kept seeing things that obviously weren't there, Ash could casually inquire or give it a moment to see if she would react.

"Fair enough. In that case, it looks like I'm with you. What is the business at hand?"

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

"That is particularly generous, Peter." said Reginald, squaring his attention with his recently returned nephew. "I daresay your father might have differing opinion of your choice of investment, considering as you have given me a "carte blanche" statement." There was the slightest hint of positivity sprung across the old man's features, to be quickly absorbed by graver considerations. "If it please you, nephew, and I would take it as a considerable favor were you to not find insult in my next statement; but if it would please you, I wish to minimize your personal expense in this endeavor." The offer was very generous and the Lord Major was glad to hear it, but he had reservations, much of which revolved around Peter maintaining his familial standing and fortune.

"Should funds come wanting from usual channels, I will write down a modest number - the most modest one that still covers expenses. Sans personals, of course. But I will call upon your assistance in this regard last. Such ventures often have unexpected expenses that can jeopardize the best of planning, you see, and I would want the bulk of your generosity available for times such as those, unless otherwise necessary." Hopefully with both his and Peter's honor intact, a sometimes difficult thing when discussing matters of personal finance, Reginald moved on to his nephew's next, and probably more important point.

"Yet concerning Vera, wholeheartedly, sir! Even for an old chauvinist like myself. This would be the instance, and she would be the woman from whom I accept my orders, of course. Naturally, excepting that we get another one wearing the Crown. Goes without saying, quite."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@Lady Amalthea

Music video bringeth the tears.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Private Hangar in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico

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True to his word, Caesar began loading their bags into the trunk of the stretch towncar as everyone else entered the vehicle cab. There weren't very many bags a they hadn't planned on being there for very long time, but among their possessions there was one case a little heavier than the others, dark and nondescript, otherwise not remarkable except for the temporary paper tag around the handle, marking it as Caesar's. This one he saved for last.

From the view inside of the limo, one might note that Caesar spent much longer than was necessary behind the open door to the trunk. There was the occasional snatch of conversation in Spanish involving the more refined voice of Benecio and the gravelly syllables of Caesar. While the discussion was brief, it was enough to surmise that they were doing more than talking about the most space efficient way to store suitcases.

Meanwhile, the partition inside the vehicle slid down a couple of inches. The rearview mirror showed a pair of sharp, feminine hazel eyes, partly obscured by a shock of dark hair which was held down by a chauffeur's cap. The owner of the eyes said nothing, seemingly waiting for some cue, but the gaze from her was unwavering and fierce. Within the next couple of minutes, Caesar and Benecio had both entered the vehicle. The doors shut, and a moment of tense quiet fell. Caesar was the one to break the silence.

"We're not going to a secure MSS facility." he began. His demeanor was difficult to read. Did the old man prefer an antiseptic series of rooms instead of a nice, luxurious hotel room? Was he feeling quite the opposite, and his growing need for comfort in his autumn years supersede the practical necessity of staying safe? Possibly being in his home turf was a thing that made him feel safer. Or it could be none of those things. Point of fact, it was most definitely not. "There is a Hacienda just outside of the city, near the mountain the Gonzalez Crypt is under. Most of La Familia is already there."

Benicio attempted to explain in more detail. "It is an estate, just outside of Monterrey. It still has a city mailing address. Most of the members of the Gonzalez Family were brought up there, and technically it is under my care now. The family will be expecting a full observation of the rites of Nuestra Dama de la Muerte."

"Not everybody in our family follows her." remarked Caesar in strong, corrective tones, as much to Cecily and Natasha as it was for Benicio.

"Correct. But she has paid particular interest in our family, Caesar. You know this better then most. And she always gets what is due her.

"Hmmm..." grunted Caesar, not willing to continue the discussion. "Ángel! Hacienda, por favor." The intense hazel eyes from the front seat disappeared as the partition rolled up, and the limousine rolled out of the hangar. The powerful Mexican sun beat down upon the vehicle, restrained from most of its fury by thick, tinted windows. From behind the glass, one could almost clearly make out an American accent enunciating a slightly put out, "Yeah, on it."

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J. Keystone

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Location: Mr. Burrito -> Back on the road

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The tacos. Ah Lord, the tacos. When the dust finally settled on the now bleak landscape of Mr. Burrito, five people loomed tall and victorious over a mountain of individual wrappers, specially designed to serve the needs of a single folded tortilla plus savory contents, then spend the remainder of its existence clogging up a landfill. But that was a huge pile of discard paper. Impressive, really. The first official request of the Justice Branch's new arrivals had been fulfilled. Strangely, all of the hot sauce from the tables was missing upon their departure, as well. Feeling sorry for whoever had to clean up, Keystone tipped well. Company expense tab, and whatnot.

Always the forward-thinking man, Keystone was particularly happy that his office had its own bathroom. The Hub, well... If the new Tech group wasn't close already, they were about to get to know each other a lot better.

Back in the big, black Ramcharger, the big guy addressed the Techies again in a more official capacity. "Right, now, when we get back, you lot go through basic protocol, like you was talkin' on about, yeah? Make sure we're secure, put up some more firewalls or encryptions or wha'ever the arse you lot're into. Just make us water-bloody-tight. Then I'll see about gettin' Miss Gonzalez's information to ya, see what you can sort from 'er 'ardware an' intranet account." There was much passive nodding and agreeing, mostly because there was a possible Taco Coma forthcoming. And it was obvious that Keystone wasn't exactly the most computer savvy guy in the car. It wasn't a true "smile and nod" moment; they were all serious about their work, respectful of Keystone (in their own ways), and fully aware they they were brought in because they were the experts in their chosen field, and El Jefe needed people he knew were loyal.

The group continued down the streets of Justice, ever closer to Queensguard R&D and their destination therein.