"GET ON FUCKING BOARD!"

As far as greetings go, this particular one appeared to lack tact and when addressing a Chrono lacking tact is the equivalent of genocide. For Ante Mortem this was indeed a common occurrence when they were less notorious, although after a few gruesome incidents very few individuals came to associate themselves with the demonic duo let alone insult them. This was particularly true for Rin, whose wrath could go from unfair to simply biblical or at least that is how her partner describes it.

"Now Rin, I am sure that gentleman is slightly blind and he didn't see us, I am equally sure he is not suicidal. So let us not do something that will make your brother have to sit on a desk and fill mountains of paperwork explaining how we basically killed all the leaders of the Bloodlines." As Angel spoke his tone and expressions clearly showed signs of worry, a rare spectacle. One would consider the man to be afraid for the loss of innocent lives, however his fear was mainly directed to his apprehension towards the dreary tasks he would be obligated to perform in the aftermath.

Even so, his attempts at appeasing the Chrono fell on deaf ear. Just by looking at Rin one could never tell the child is unhappy or angry; in fact associating any form of emotion would prove rather difficult as she hardly displayed any, other than her usual stoic expression. However if one looked at the ship which Rin slowly approached, they may notice the occurrence of a phenomena known as "sinking" and you wouldn't need Sherlock to deduce a very vexed Chrono was causing it.

Mere seconds after the Asylum's "greeting" the very alchemic energy in their vicinity appeared to have warped, meaning one's alchemic drive was rendered ineffective. This coupled with the fact that with each step Rin took the force of gravity around the ship increased; it didn't bode well for those present aboard it. Not only did the passengers find themselves with an unstable alchemic drive but due to the Chrono's alteration of gravity, they found themselves rooted to their spots on a ship that slowly buckled under the pressure, beginning to sink.

"It would be a safe assumption to say Rin is slightly irritated," Angel remarked as he brushed his stubble, his gaze shifting towards the Asylums present as if silently asking for aid. "I am guessing none of you are willing to stop her for the sake of the mission?" The silver Reaper continued, making the need for assistance a little more vocal. As he examined his subordinates through his silver spectacles a sigh escaped his lips. "Yes, I suppose I wouldn't want to be a blot on the floor either," the Lost Number concluded before approaching his partner with slight hesitation.

"Now Rin, I know you are angry but can you avoid killing everyone on the boat?" Despite Angel's request the ship continued to sink, water beginning to breach it and the panic from within being made apparent through screams. Before the Blood Draped Angel could interfere, he found himself rooted to a spot as well through being subjected to the same treatment.

"You are handful child; fine how about an addition to the Pandas present at Shangri-La?"

As soon as Angel mentioned a very specific word, the ship seized to sink if only for but a few seconds. However the fact that Rin continued her onslaught towards the naysayer implied she wasn’t satisfied with the offer, with this knowledge the Lost Number couldn’t help but be amused. His crafty partner was no longer trying to sink the ship in order to punish the Asylum; this was now a haggle for a better offer.

“Very devious little one, fine then I will allow you to keep one of your Pandas at the A.M.R.O head quarters we are residing in.” The smile slowly turned to a little chuckle as Angel observed the ship resurface before things could get life threatening. The Chrono no longer appeared to harbor feelings of genocide and instead followed her partner inside, her face shining despite a lack of emotion.

---------------------------Xx----------------xX---------------------------
Bloodlines
Time: A few minutes before the sinking

Laofengs

As the other Bloodlines mingled and established grounds for ascertaining their allies and enemies, the Laofeng Patriarch merely indulged himself in expensive wine and the company of his ‘sister’.

“To think they have already begun analyzing the situation before we have even started the meeting. Are they always this guarded?” Lei Gong asked his body guard with a polite expression on his face, clearly enjoying her company after such a long time.

“I’m afraid they are bro- I mean Lei Go-“Before Ying could correct herself, she found her forehead being gently flicked as a form of punishment.

“I don’t care about formalities, you are still my sister and as such I want you to think of me as your brother. That is if you don’t hate me.” The Patriarch replied, his tone laced with guilt. Clearly the thought of abandoning his siblings continued to haunt his gentle nature.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t the brother I hate, I could never hate you. And yes, things are usually like this from the reports that I have read. Though it makes sense that everyone will be on edge, there have been a multitude of murders.” Ying continued, consoling her brother while also answering his question. “But you already knew that, isn’t that the reason a Patriarch from the Laofengs finally appeared.” She continued, suspiciously staring at her brother in order to tease him.

However before they could continue their little chat, they found themselves grounded with the ship slowly shaking and sinking. Despite the distorted alchemic energy, it didn’t take much effort from the Lost Number to surround her brother and herself in a dome of impenetrable darkness. She was after all one of the two prodigies from the Old bloods, the Laofengs. There was also the fact that this level of energy distortion was relatively weak, as if specifically targeted towards alchemists and Asylums but not at the levels beyond.

“So this is gravity manipulation, it must be that Reri. Her power is indeed terrifying, how exciting!” Lei Gong spoke, this event affecting neither his composure nor his cheerfulness.

Adesolas

“You know your father always adored that about. Your ability to stay positive, he often said that whenever he would look at you it would be like you were bathing under a halo of white light. I hope you never have to see heartbreak child, the world we are born in is a cruel world, it is the world that took your father’s life and I will be damned if it takes yours.” Gentle tears began to trickle down her face, it was quite apparent the woman was terrified of what would happen at this meeting and that too specifically for her daughter who had forced herself to come.

Her gentle expressions however suddenly turned to horror, her eyes widening as she felt herself falling to her knees along with her daughter. The bones in her body ached as if a mysterious force was slowly crushing them; it took all the might she could spare to vengefully stare at the others to make sure this wasn’t a ploy for assassination. What made this situation even more abysmal was the fact that her alchemy wasn’t responding, making it impossible to contact the beings of nature around her for protection.

“Nothing will harm my child!” the woman screamed in pure hatred and anger.

Laveaus

“How lovely, two of the most irritating family members together and discussing peace.” Clair scoffed, as her eyes glared at the mal-creation of humanity that was Willem. “Here is the amusing aspect of this conversation, while Dante has influence over Vatican City we all know the Pallidinos are pansies, they don’t have the balls to start a war. The Steins are a different story, obeying rules has never been your forte. You lot broke the rules before and were brought to extinction; I highly doubt your lunatic sister and you have learned your lesson. We all have skeletons in our closets but even Dante’s god would tremble and what you people try to fuck around with.

Before she could continue insulting the two Bloodlines she hated the most, she noticed the bloodline members in her line of visions being brought to their knees along with her included. Despite the slap to her ego, watching the two pretentious bastards kneeling as well brought some comfort to this precarious situation.

“Since you two idiots are in the same boat as me, I guess someone else is doing this. I really hope I don’t get to die next to you two.” Clair muttered as she felt pain surge throughout her body, she was prepared to face opposition just not this early. “This will be war, you are all dead!” The woman had made her declaration of war against the bloodline that had dared to oppose her.

Queen Anne

“Hi Apate and Dolos, it has been a while since I saw the two of you. How are you guys? Are you waiting for the Asylums too?”

Dolos happily greeted Antonia and Rosella, behind his smile his twisted mind working how to overpower the Palladinio family. What made them a thorn in his side was the fact they associated themselves with religion and that gave them a very unique form of influence. Religion isn’t good or bad, its nature is based on how it is perceived and uses. So a morally respected person may use religion for great things and a manipulative bastard may use it for unleashing havoc.

“It is best to keep up good appearance with them until I can go for the jugular” Dolos thought as he entertained the kids. “Same ol’ same ol’, work is slow and we are just as bored as you too,” the boy joked. “I hear a lot of Asylums will be coming this time, won’t it be fun if a fight breaks out! We will get to see them in action; I hear if they get angry they can kill you with just a stare.” As he spoke, Dolos couldn’t help but stare at the two Pallidino children in a friendly attempt to scare them.

However soon enough he found himself pinned on the floor, his widened eyes staring at the others. Adrenaline had kicked and perhaps for the first time the heir felt his life truly in danger, such ecstacy. It is this thrill the Queen Anne live for, to face death and to escape it with a smile.

“Sister let us bet on who will die right now,” Dolos replied with a smile despite his voice stuttering from the pain.

Steins

“This is unfortunate,” Cassandra thought as she found herself on her back, preferring to lie down rather than kneel and fight the force of the gravity. “I didn’t calculate opposition this early, it does put me at a disadvantage. But this couldn’t be one of the other bloodlines, they don’t have such power and surely A.M.R.O won’t risk losing us as long as we prove to be valuable tools.” The Stein Matriarch contemplated as she stared at the sky above her. “I hope my brother has finished working on the project we discusses, else his death is an inconvenience.”

---------------------------Xx--------------------------xX---------------------------
Just when things appeared to be at their worst and many of the Bloodlines had accepted their fate, the ship suddenly began to resurface along with the gravity returning to normal. For but a brief moment an aura of relief and joy brimmed the ship that is till the Bloodlines realized this was clearly an act of war and someone had made the first move.

The expressions of relief, in a blink of an eye, turned into paranoia and anger as many Bloodlines began to either take a defensive or offensive stance. Alchemic drive was being activated by almost all members in preparation of an all out war and this time everyone was ready, now it all rested on who will throw the first shot.

Silence loomed over the ship as families regrouped, patiently waiting for the fight to start. It was a stand-off and almost every person present had their fingers on the trigger. The Stein’s had prepared sigils, the Laveaus were gently muttering as if preparing a chant, the Queen Anne children had already begun plotting a counter attack. In terms of aggression the Adesolas were leagues ahead; ravenous eagles circled the ship on high and sharks from below. However the Laofengs were possibly the least aggressive and while Ying’s barrier of darkness had subsided she maintained vigilance to strike down any who approaches her brother.

Luckily before disaster could break the silence, the sound of claps did so instead. It was none other than Angel casually walking with the Chrono beside him and the Asylums behind him, his hands slowly clapping not only to appreciate the foolhardiness of the Bloodlines but also so they may get their attention. But in all honesty, the Lost Number merely enjoyed making a dramatic entrance.

“I do apologize for that little prank; we merely felt it necessary to show you your betters. I do not care for you; my partner does not care for you and what that means is if you irritate us we won’t be there to protect you from these other Asylums. Just one of them can kill you with a stare!” As Angel concluded he slowly tilted his face towards Dolos, who at that exact moment decided to cover his face. After Dolos he gave the very same stare to the man who had greeted Ante Mortem so rudely, accept this time it was different. Even though Angel’s eyes lay veiled by his spectacles, it almost felt as if the Lost Number was staring into the very soul of Dancer, followed by a telepathic warning to their team. “I enjoy breathing, so must you too?”

“We will now depart,” with Rin’s official orders the Ship instantly set sail.

---

Aboard the Cruise Ship.

John Legende strolled in through the heavy, metal door, his black cane first. His steps fell into an echoing tandem with it, his gait graceful and sure as his apparel rustled without a sound. His half-shut eyes slithered listlessly under their lids, perhaps leaving most with the impression that he wasn't taking in every detail of the ship. His fair-skinned demeanor contorted to a patient yet grim scowl as he came to a stop, hands atop his cane. His younger half-sister, Anya, darker in contrast, stopped as well, having practically been glued to his side ever since she and her family left the airport. Hands clasped before her dark blue, strapless dress, Anya's timid gaze jumped from face to face in the large gathering room, checking off the identities that she remembered and zeroing in on those she didn't. Not a moment after, their shared father, darker still, strolled in on a motorized wheelchair. His large body, wrapped in white bandages and a whiter shawl, seldom left his wrinkly flesh exposed, though his face did have a kind of determined, wizened scowl to it (like father, like son).

The Patriarch of the Legendes, the one and only... Zidane.

And the pair of hands grasping the handles of the wheelchair belonged to a butler, whose shadowed body remained just out of sight. Anya and John met Zidane's gaze, the former with love, the latter with respect, and he nodded. Then a thought crossed John's mind, and he looked to the butler, gesturing with a hand, his mouth moving to the tune of 'luggage.'

The shadow left, leaving the three to make their way to the dining table. Some eyes followed them, perhaps, and others didn't. But the Legendes cared not, and it showed. John sat across from the Laofeng Patriarch, and eyed his good taste for a moment before summoning a waiter for what that guy was having. Anya slipped into a chair besides John after taking out a chair on his left so that their father's wheelchair would have space. As John asked for the chair to be taken away, he noted Anya resuming her crestfallen demeanor, the clash of new faces and events no longer distracting her from the pain in her heart. She had been like this for a while since her betrothed seem to have vanished. Zidane's wheelchair ceased its droning as he pulled up and plucked a snack from the tray. He, too, noted his daughter's pain, albeit he needn't eyes to see what could be seen.

John placed a hand on Anya's bare shoulder, whispering, "I'm sure we'll have our answers soon, Anya."

She nodded, her fragile brow quivering at the thought of more tears. But then she (and John) noted Claire approaching, which prompted Zidane to back his wheelchair up a tad so he was angled to see her better. The Legendes observed the woman's antics for a moment, but then John resumed sitting back in his chair while Anya looked on, curious of her father's reaction to the obnoxious lady.

Zidane stirred, his mouth working out saliva. His bandages flexed as his wizened gaze drifted up at Claire. The most wry smirk dared to spread across his lips. His dark eyes simmered ever so lightly as they raked over her facial features, snake-eyeing her feminine features below that tender, juicy neckline.

“Ah... it is only,” he began, in French, “that God is good. And, ah... as for his devilry... Unlock your cabin window tonight and... Damballa indwell me, you'll know him.”

Anya notably blanched. 'Daddy!' she reeled mentally, as John merely let out a slow, hissing chuckle.

Claire savored the gesture, but then whipped her hair back, gesturing with her hands and thrust out hips. "Your God can't handle this!" she beamed, chin tilting out.

"Ah, then you have nothing... much to worry about, do you?" Zidane continued in her native tongue.

Chuckles...

Zidane and Anya blinked, for behind Claire now stood their butler, Mr. G. Knots, his height leaving the top of the lady's head just below his pectoral. "Shall I prepare all of your condoms for you, my Lord?" Mr. Knots asked earnestly, a strange cheerfulness in his tone.

Claire started, her breath expelling explosively as she stepped aside, realizing just how much personal space had been invaded by Mr. Knots' sudden arrival. Her eyes darted to Zidane, for an answer.

The Patriarch cracked a sympathetic grin to Claire, shaking his head slightly. "Ah, no... no need to rile her, Mr. Knots. She is a fine, ah... rebel," he stated plainly.

She turned towards Zidane. "You, I don't mind, but him," Claire hissed, a thumb out at the butler, "needs a reminder that servants, after all, are to be seen, not heard."

With that, the Matriarch grabbed Mr. Knots in the groin, twisting and pulling with enough might to probably turn some family jewels into literal ones. The butler blank-faced, but remained standing, much to the matriarch's confusion.

"Eunuch?" she gasped, glancing down at Zidane, who simply shrugged, eyes somewhat wide at the sight of a groped butler.

Just before Mr. Knots could surmise a witty response as to whether or not he had testicles, John interrupted, his desired wine sloshing in his hand elegantly. Anya looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide as well.

"The luggage, Julian?" he asked sternly, staring at the table before him.

Mr. Knots blank-faced again for a moment, before blinking, regaining composure, and replying that the luggage was misplaced, and that the ship's staff was inadequately tasked for the job. Anya's eyes narrowed at this revelation. My things are gone?

Claire continued twisting, pulling, but she could not rock the butler's steady frame.

"You have responsibilities, Julian," John stated, "See to them after you've finished... harassing Mrs. Laveau's hand."

"Yes, if that is what you wish," Mr. Knots replied with a strain, vanishing in the blink of an eye and out of the lady's iron grip.

Clair left them to their business, notably annoyed by their stupid butler. Zidane waved good-bye after her, droning his chair back to the table so that he was perpendicular to it. He then resumed snacking on the salty peanuts. Anya, quiet and observant as ever, felt compelled to ask her brother something that had been starting to bother her ever since they had begun preparations for this Meeting of the Crests; frankly, his treatment towards Mr. Knots, when before, he had nothing but staunch respect and gratitude for the man.

"Brother...?" Anya whispered softly, leaning into the nook of his shoulder.

John nodded, as though he'd been expecting this, before slightly turning and looking down at her, his facial features softening.

"Yes, dearie?" he said, a strange glow in his eyes. Perhaps just a trick of the room's lighting.

"Why must you treat Mr. Knots so... I don't know, harshly?" Anya asked, the left side of her mouth scrunching up.

"Oh, is that what's been bothering you?" he joked wryly, to which Anya rolled her eyes.

He turned back towards the table, careful to not let Anya slip out of his arm. His wine glass came before him, and just before sipping he said, "He is merely slacking off, that's all."

"Oh," Anya stated flatly, watching him drink as she sat back into her own chair.

Suddenly, LASER BEAMS WITH CHEESCAKE AND NIBBLES.

John looked down, the wine glass spilling all over his lap. The gravity had become 10x normal earth gravity, affecting all but the hairiest of Saiyans. Anya tensed, closing her eyes and concentrating on the face of the young, large-nose man she had come to love. In contrast, Zidane strained, grunting slightly as his weak flesh threatened to fall off even more. His drive flared, barely protecting him. John noted this, but there was nothing he would do.

Fortunately, the moment passed well enough, and then, just when he almost wondered where 'Julian' had gone, a hand slipped into John's vision, picking up the wine glass and setting atop the table, all while everyone else prepared to kill everyone... else. Anya opened her eyes, gasping lightly at the upcoming onslaught... Zidane wiped his forehead, glancing at Mr. Knots as he wiped away wine with white napkins on John's lap.

It would seem the Legendes had not prepared any alchemic countermeasures at all. None would know why. Except Mr. Knots.

Chuckles...

"Perhaps a tournament is in order," the butler mused, done with his task.

"Oh, I hope not," Anya breathed, hearing Angel's footsteps breaking the silence.

Zidane said nothing, his thoughts his own as he observed the alchemies manifesting. John sighed lightly through his nose as Angel crowed his maniacal lines, after which the attorney (among other things) pushed back his chair and announced to 'Julian' that he would need a new suit, but to stay here, with 'Father' and Anya.

"Yes, if that is what you wish," Mr. Knots replied as John exited the dining room, leaving Anya to people-watch and Zidane to ogle.

Naturally, every Meeting of the Crests was filled with tension, suspicion and menace. The toxic atmosphere so thick that a scimitar could literally cut through it all and make the room bleed. Most the families were all but at each other’s throat, thanks to the anxiety over recent events. Things that would be subject of the meeting no doubt. Of course, things only got worse after the Kian entered the deck from spending time in their quarters. Gravity immediately increased as if the air was made from weights and cling to their figures with a need to make them kneel.

Panic swept through Nima and Sahar, their alchemy flared in reaction to the unexpected attack. Nima’s words echoed from his lips causing his body to take on a unusual and dim glow, the surface no longer the golden color as it became dark black much like carbon steel. His specialty shifting the composition of his skin from flesh into any substance he chose. Meanwhile, he could feel Sahar’s figure shift then rapidly gain momentum as her figure blurred slightly, making it where anything that touched her would be immediately shattered into fragments before it penetrated her flesh. The children were already bracing themselves to escape with the Yaser’s ability to influence the solidness of objects and people he focused on. The heir’s arms around the twins while Parisa hopped onto his back, her thin arms curled about his neck to phase with them through the ship’s hull and aimed to then escape through the lower deck.

There was only one issue: their alchemy seemed to been grounded to the halt as well. The moment they tried to activate it, it was like all the power was cut off and immediately it shut down. Sahar looked wide eyed into her husband’s face as tears formed underneath her brown eyes, her head buried in her husband’s shoulder to accept their fate. Her voice whispered quietly in an apologetic nature. “I’m sorry, my showhar.”

Nima merely clasped her close as possible with the pressure bearing upon them, his eyes shut to hide the fear he couldn’t push away from his gaze. Then as suddenly as it began, it ceased. One by one, the families started to check over their members before the bickering began in full swing. Carefully lifting up his wife, Nima whispered for her to check the children though there was little need because she was already stepping to it, her form quickly leaned down to look over Parsia first then the twins.

Nima, naturally, took a defensive position to hover nearby while the families were recovering. His alchemy ready to activate on a single command as he stood watch. Avoiding his mother, Yaser stepped in beside his father, his face a deep scowl at the others while debating over what happened. “Who do you think was responsible?”

“I don’t know, but I fully intend to find out.” Nima replied to his son, quietly.

Yaser turned his head to fix upon his father, admiring him a bit, then returned his scowl toward the Peralta and Queen Anne family. A deep seated hatred edged into his soul at seeing them that Nima’s hand raised then placed itself upon his heir’s shoulder. His next words tried to edge caution into the young man’s temper, hoping to subside any rash actions and ease the toiling rage within. “Don’t be rash. At least let us determine our allies before we jump to actions. I much rather not find ourselves alone in the war.”

Saying this, someone started to clap their hands breaking the tension within the room. Nima’s head turned to observe the individual stepping into the deck dressed in the themes of red and black, and silver glasses covering his eyes. He seemed amused by the near slaughter about to break out in front of him when he spoke, explaining the incident was a bitter reminder how easily the Asylums could kill them all and possible how little the AMRO actually valued them. In Nima’s mind, it was an insult in some way to remind them that every single one of their most powerful had been taken and become Asylums within the organization.

Nothing but property, their rights to their future denied.

The Shah inhaled softly, then gestured to his son to remain with his family. When Angel ceased and his companion set sail, he started to approach Dante Palladino. “There’s always better ways to remind us of our place, but nearly crushing us is not the best one.”


"GET ON FUCKING BOARD!"

Cade frowned, his eyes pulled up and noted the owner of the voice standing on deck. The man was well into his forties, his figured dressed sharply and cupped hands lowering from his mouth after he had shouted his impatience down upon them. The blonde sighed inwardly while his feet tried to pick up pace to reach the rest of the group, spotting the youngest seem to separate and approach the ship alone. That was strange to him for a moment causing Cade’s pace to slow a bit and examine the scene occurring.

The Asylum was about fifteen in age, her skin fair and dressed in a dark, victorian era dress that flowed with each step across the pier. Her blond, pigtail hair fluttered behind her with the sea breeze rippling across the sea and floating pass, the man wondering if she actually was a lost and confused LARPer from the area. Upon reaching the rear, they came to a stop as they heard Angel’s voice commented on something. His silver glasses settled on each of them with a question on his lips.

“I’m guessing none of you are willing to stop her for the sake of the mission?”

Cade began to open his mouth to reply when suddenly, Samad’s elbow found its way into his ribs. The jab was enough to make the younger Asylum grit his teeth and cease his budding words, dampening a sharp yelp into a soft grunt. He doubled over at the waist, slightly, and his eyes glared at his partner. The Persian’s head shook a silent no. A visible warning as Cade’s face crunched in concern and frustration, not sure what the hell was going through his partner’s head. Feeling that Samad might actually accept his question rather than ignore him, Cade mentally spoke while he scrunched up his face in annoyance.

’What the hell was that for?’

’Do you really want to get us both killed?!?’ Samad snapped, Cade feeling his irritation being forced aside and not a brick wall between them. The Asylum’s gaze was held over the younger man as if knowing something he wasn’t telling, a fact that made Cade nervous.

The blond’s vision shifted when he heard Angel continue, a sigh passing through his lips when he finally submitted to the silence. “Yes, I suppose I wouldn’t want to be a blot on the floor either.”

Then the Lost number stepped off to approach the child now threatening the ship.
‘Is she going to kill them?!?

‘It seems so, I wonder who pissed her off and why.’ Samad’s lacking empathy only showed in his words, his emotions flooding their link was another story. It was filled with anxiety and frustration, something rather uncharacteristic for the Persian since Cade had known him. A curious matter to the doctor, giving him a reason to pause and look Samad over with a scrutinizing look.

Why do you care about the bloodlines? The question merely escaped before Cade could catch it, his attention distracted while Rin was dealt with by Angel’s bargaining.

Who says I do? And what business is it of yours?’ Samad countered with his own questions, sidestepping the budding conversation into a topic he didn’t want to explore or reveal just yet. His arms crossed over his chest while he continued to watch Rin, noting the interaction casually. Shortly, the ship was no longer sinking when it bobbed back up from the waters. The display seemed to put Samad more at ease for the moment as he ignored Cade’s stare hardened. Despite their forced partnership, they were complete strangers in the time they were linked. And both knew it.

With the girl appeased, the Asylums began to board.



They arrived just when the Bloodlines were ready to rip each apart. Angel, the very Chrono who saved the cruise ship and all the lives onboard, began clapping. The sound was enough to draw a confused look from not just the families but Cade too. Both his and Samad’s eyes watched the man edge into the center of attention, obviously enjoying the spectacle he was making of himself in the process. His words were almost mocking in his approach to try to frighten the families unnecessarily after a fuck up by another team and his partner. Now it was Samad’s turn to note his partner’s visual discomfort growing by the second, the man’s attention fixed on the table where a few families were currently at. Namely the Legendes.

While Angel rambled on, Samad’s mind nudged Cade. ’Now who’s having anxiety over the bloodlines?’

’Shut up…’ Came Cade’s reply.

Samad just chuckled in amusement over the shoe being on the other foot. When the Chrono looked at Dolos, the Queen Anne’s heir, Samad actually hoped the filthy little brat might’ve been brazen enough to provoke the man and enable the Asylum to end their family’s future. Unfortunately the boy was smart enough to look away. Angel then turned his attention over to the very man that shouted at them from the deck. He gave the same glare from either through Samad suspected something more was passed between them. At the end, the girl, Rina, turned to the ship’s command then gave the official orders to depart.

When things seem to settle down for the time, Cade immediately broke from Samad’s presence then moved toward the Legendes. Namely the Patriarch and his daughter.

The first thought that occurred to Maya as her weight was decupled and the ship beneath her began to creak and groan was that a rogue alchemist was attacking. The Bloodlines had seemed calm enough (by their standards) a moment ago, and the Asylums were supposed to be protecting the boat. But it only took her a moment to trace the alchemic drive, and it was coming from them. From the little girl, of all people. That, and it was much too strong to be any old asylum.

It appeared that her partner had managed to piss off a Chrono. Wouldn't be the first time... but as she turned to him, she found him looking back at her, grinning. Not only that, but he was standing entirely straight against the gravity. She'd been almost knocked over by the initial push, and had to lean on the railing for support, but Dancer hadn't so much as flinched. There was no way he could have resisted it so well unless he was ready for it.

The truth dawned on her. "You," she said, her voice utterly deadpan, "you did this on purpose."

Dancer rolled his eyes. "Right, it's my fault that a fucking Chrono can't handle having her feathers ruffled. That girl needs a smacked bottom."

Song was giving him a death stare, now. "Doesn't matter. If the Bloodlines get killed, that's a mission failure. We had a streak going, and you may well have ruined it."

"Pffft. As if AMRO would stick that little bitch on something as sensitive as this without a way of controlling her. She'll have a handler, or a fucking microchip or some shit." As if to confirm his words, a strangely dressed man moved towards the Chrono, apparently speaking. "See? Kids are so damn easy to manipulate. Watch, I'll piss her off again!" He raised his hands to his mouth once more.

Then stopped, as he caught a gleam of metal out the corner of his eye, and realized that Maya had pulled a knife on him. A very sharp knife, pointed at a very sensitive location. His hands slowly dropped to his sides. "Coward."

Maya cocked her head to one side. "Shall I put you on a leash again? Or can we do this the easy way?"

"Fuck tha-" There was a popping noise, and one of Dancer's knees buckled. He caught himself before he fell, one arm slamming against the railing as he struggled to hold himself up. His knee joint had been dislocated by the weight, and the pain showed on his face. "...fine." He scowled at her. "But you owe me for this. I keep quiet for this thing, and you get AMRO to give me a damn rocket launcher."

She sighed inwardly. Then nodded. "You do your best, I'll do mine."

The gravity lifted, and the deck swayed as the cruise ship bobbed back up to its original position. Song stood at attention as the other Asylums boarded, while Dancer took the opportunity to sit down and wrench his knee back into position. It'd need proper medical attention later, but for now his alchemy would keep him upright- and more importantly, while he was concentrating on it he was less likely to mouth off.

Everyone appeared to be taking the whole gravity-crush incident rather well, and the Chrono's partner put on a good show of reigning them in. Song re-established her connection with her sigils, letting images from around the ship flood into her eyes once more. They'd come close to chaos, but it appeared that the majority here were sane enough to keep things from devolving into a war for now.

Dancer tapped her on the shoulder. She blinked, and looked in front of her to find that the Chrono's partner was standing before them. A warning rang out, echoing in her mind as if it had been planted there. She clapped her hands together. "Yes Sir!" Then gave a swift, sharp bow of her head. "Of course, Sir!"

The motions were exaggerated, meant to draw the man's eyes away from her partner while performing a subtle Motem cast, creating illusions over Dancer's hands and mouth. This was to conceal the fact that he was flipping Angel the bird, while mouthing the words 'fuck you.' Fortunately, Song could cast very quickly, and the gestures were masked entirely. To anyone looking, it would appear that Jim was standing with his hands at his sides and his mouth tight shut.

She looked over at him, taking pains to conceal all mental and physical signs of her annoyance. "Come on. We should rendezvous with the other Asylums, get some idea of who we're working with."

Dancer nodded, and fell in line with her as she headed roughly towards the other Asylums, taking care to steer well away from the Chrono. A mental message crossed the link between them, one of the rare times Jim didn't open his mouth. You should stick a mirage on that guy. Make his nose look like a-

NO!

Nima & Dante

Although the ability to move was hindered by the sudden force caused by the Chrono, Dante was proud to see that the young adviser’s eyes continued to stay focused on his heir as it was meant to be instead of her own well being. Stefano’s life might have ended prematurely but what time he had he used to train her well and given the tension already present, it was something he needed to depend on. “You know your duty to the family. Worry not about me child and and attend to Luka and the others.”

“Yes father.” Irene nodded before she swiftly leaving, crossing paths with Nima as he approached Dante.

Nima’s eyes watched the Asylums casually file into the room, his figure remained steady and firmly in place while he eyed them carefully. Each one fixed into his mind as he viewed them to be nothing more than arrogant bastards, their airs putting everyone beneath them and the worse part, AMRO practically allowed such actions to go without punishment. His arms crossed over his chest causing his suit to crinkle slightly, ruining the pristine image Sahar had worked hard to establish on him as he resisted a glance toward his family.

Sahar was gingerly checking Yaser, the heir’s gaze much like a falcon with a daring appearance and seemed to play little mind to his mother’s touch. In his youth, the boy would’ve twisted away to complain then dismiss her concern but now he generally accepted it. Mainly because he knew respect, even to the fair gender, was required to become the next Shah. Turning his mind from the display his family likely made, his thoughts waited for Dante’s reaction and words to comment on his earlier ones.

“Quite brash for an entrance.” Dante noted as he took a glance towards Irene to make sure all was well within his family before giving his attention to Nima. “There is no way around that fact my friend but given the already rising tensions amongst the bloodlines do you have a better alternative on establishing a foundation to keep the peace and halt, although temporary, the quarrelsome acts between the bloodlines?” There was no malicious tone nor accusation in the man’s voice but rather a genuine question towards the Shah and his thoughts towards the situation knowing that even in their civil manner towards each other, AMRO was one subject agreement couldn’t be found.

“You maybe right, but I fear it might only work toward escalating matters in the future. We’re all edgy, though I question if it’s because of the same reason. I only know of yours, mine and a few other bloodlines issues, some better than others, with the recent deaths. Far too numerous to be a coincidence which is stirring my instinct that something is on the horizon, something terrible.” Nima admitted, honestly. His eyes shifted to Irene with acknowledgement as he lingered on her shifting between family members, calming others while retaining order quickly. Being family oriented himself, his mind shifted to a topic of much more positive atmosphere than choosing to slump within the topic of AMRO’s dogs.

“Irene seems to be taking to her role quite well. Stefano would’ve been pride, wouldn’t he? It’s a terrible tragedy that he couldn’t fully complete her training due to unforeseen events.” Nima commented, recalling the adviser’s untimely death and the issues it might’ve created for the child’s future. His eyes flitted over Samad leaning against the wall farthest from him, causing the Shah to abruptly tense in reaction to the sight. It was a surprise to say the least to learn AMRO had decided to assign an x-Kian family member to oversee the Meeting of the Crest as their Bloodline hadn’t been wiped out, his mind wondering if it was mainly chance, fate or AMRO rubbing salt into their aging wounds.

“He was a wise man and an even better teacher even in my youth and although he is no longer, the girl is very much like my uncle and carries on his legacy well.” Dante said as he shifted his gaze from his own family towards Nima’s children and wife and finally to the current heir. “Your son appears to be doing well even with these trying times to add to the burdens already present due to the internal conflict within your bloodline. I do hope you keep him safe at least for my own selfish desires.” Dante admitted as he surveyed all who were present. There were quite a few families here that he hated and even more that he didn’t trust even with AMRO present and on a good day unlike this one. “Roshan might be loyal to your family but between him being more consumed within his business and the influences he has on his children, it would be a shame if after generations of mutual benefit that conflict arises within the next generation or two due to the ideologies of the patriarchs shifting apart if either were venture too far from where things are currently being held. Becoming a corrupt man of God or a businessman too consumed by power isn’t too far of a fall from where we are currently.” Dante said pointing out the fact that his family too could be the culprit if a future rift between the two families were to occur.

“Sadly, my brother is less reasonable and more prideful than myself, but as long as Yaser is alive there’s little worry in that.” Came a subtle reminder that Nima knew the boundaries, even if Dante didn’t believe he did, unlike his own brother. Letting a moment of quiet pass, he continued to address the other mentioned things in hopes to prevent him from dwelling on what seemed to border a quiet warning should the worst occur.

“Roshan’s views dependence upon other bloodlines to be weakness and an opening for a down fall, his views are creating more outbursts among the branch and main families than I believe there should be. He refuses to see the points I’ve lined out just like when we were children, his jealousy a driving point since the day father chose me as his heir.” Nima stated, the spell caused by Samad’s presence broken the moment Dante spoke. His attention turned to the topic, using it to wrench his thoughts from the taunting display within range and ignore his lost blood.

“As for Yaser, he has fared well despite the latest attempts and knows what is expected of him. The only issue is that he lacks faith in his ability to accomplish them. Something, I hope, will subside over time. Being his father, my words hold only assumptions of perfection and required affection.” Nima’s tone shifted to one of high concern when his eyes shifted to look upon his own son. “He doesn’t seem to fully understand that despite him being my blood, if I wasn’t fully confident in his abilities then he would know it.”

“If only I had the experience in this specific matter to bestow some advice to you my friend but alas my heir and children still present are young and Stefano stole the job of raising Irene.” Dante said with a light chuckle as he tried to ease the conversation. Raising children was a stressful job and sharing a similar fatherly trait towards their offspring Dante could empathise with Nima. “Once you unlock the answer to this roadblock please share it with me. It won’t be long before I too could be facing a similar situation with Luca or possibly Irene.”

“I will. Through I hope I learn of it sooner rather than later. All my brother needs is a foot hold and all the hard work established will be washed away, something very dangerous for both our families.” Nima said, his thoughts turned to Yaser’s age and relentlessness to marry any of the chosen brides his wife and him had decided for him. “Now if I can get him to marry a suitable wife among the aligned rouges, then she might be able to help somewhat. I know Sahar helped to cool my temper and prevented me from making a fool of myself numerous times. It might very well be the very same for him, I hope.”

“I hope your wife is well, Sahar has been looking forward to some female companionship since we left Iran. Most the woman in the branch family tend to become rather tense around her and makes conversation difficult since they fear their lax behavior will get back to me somehow. In addition, I believe she misses not having a little one under her feet. Parsia is already six years after all and showing a fondness over Yaser, something I’m rather proud to see.” Nima mentioned, his eyes spotting his wife already shepherding the children, tailed by Yaser, over toward Dante’s wife. The greeting was polite and genuine concern shown for not just Luca, but the others as well. Naturally the twins smirked and each wanted to see the infant cradled in the woman’s grasp.

“Francesca has been doing better since we last visited although it has been a trying time for her.” Dante said as he watched the two families start to mingle. “It’s always a surprise on how fast time can go by and how quickly children can grow up and I think that has been a bittersweet moment for Francesca now that Luca is trying to talk more. On top of that, Rosella will be leaving shortly for AMRO and our household will lose another member of our family.” Taking a glance towards the Asylums, he noted that a few were in the works of mingling and observing the bloodlines knowing that it wouldn’t be long before Rosella would be among their numbers along with Sonia.

“Children always grow up before we’re ready to let go. Seeing my wife glow with the prospect of motherhood has always made me grateful for the new life brought into our family though losing them so quickly hurts as much as it gave me joy to have them bring in. Dara has already shown his surge weeks ago, but no seekers came to our doorstep. As a married man, you can understand my problems with a fretful wife in the household?” Nima had a bit of an amused tone in his words toward Dante, his eyes noting the man staring at the Asylums.

“If only the fretfulness would cease and she would leave it all at the door before entering the bedroom.” Dante said with a similar mischievous smile both were familiar of during the man’s younger age. “Women are already complicated with all the different hormones coursing through them.”

Nima nodded in agreement, his lips still held that smirk and eyed his wife with slight lust in his charming eyes for a moment. “At least Francesa didn’t vibrate you out of the bed. I tried to get intimate with Sahar in hopes to make her less stressed and next thing I knew, I was rubbing elbows with Akbar on the floor.”

He made a soft sigh then added. “The things we put up with for the women we love.”

“But it’s worth even with the extra challenges they may bring.” Dante said with a nod as he looked towards the two families again. “Now if only we can get your son to fall into the women trap.”

“I agree. Through, for Yaser, If it was only that easy.” Nima replied, his tone tingling with laughter as he looked at his heir with a slight sorrow in his eyes. “He refuses to marry. Each match Sahar and I have tried to established was pushed to the side and now my wife is concerned for his future. It hasn't been helped with the random killing happening on rogues and branched family members, my son seeming to be blind to it all. I sometimes want to slap him upside the head. That was part of the reason I was hoping Stefano might’ve passed some knowledge or wisdom I could apply to my son.”

“If only my daughter was a bit more blind like Yaser or my uncle could have here for a bit longer. With all the chaos within the family and the untimely death of Stefano, Antonia seems to be using the distractions to become more mischievous and it seems to be growing as the weeks go by especially after she surged last month.” Shaking his head, the man looked at his youngest daughter as he recollected his past. “I guess my unwillingness to listen to authority as a child has finally came back to haunt me. Bringing Antonia and the twins together again could go well and keep them distracted, especially from my sister’s son, or be the end of my grey less hair” Dante said as he combed his fingers through his hair.

Nima agreed, his eyes spotting the two siblings immediately start to seek out Antonia. It didn’t take long when they spotted her over by his least favorite family, the heir of the Queen Anne. His teeth gritted instinctively as he recalled their various attempts in the past to sell their goods, namely oil, being shipped overseas. H inhaled sharply then spoke in a calm manner. “Dara and Ziba will help keep her out of trouble. The twins, I will admit, seem rather fond of her in their own way. Through I fear Ziba’s surge will be much bigger than her twin brother’s and when that day comes, if AMRO comes for her, he will be completely lost. It will be like losing a part of himself.”

“It would be a hard loss for him and one I do not envy.” Dante nodded as he watched the children mingle. “Losing a child to AMRO is hard after the bond that is formed over time but a bond that completes yourself such as a twin would be devastating. If it comes to a point he needs some time away from home after her surge and departure to recover, my home is always a place he would be welcomed my friend.”

“I think the change in scenery, after Ziba departs, will be helpful.” He paused then added. “If you haven’t any objections, I might send him and Parsia to spend a few weeks with you as I’m sure Francesa will enjoy having Antonia occupied. In addition, Parsia needs the cultural experience for the modern world. I believe your family can provide that and in a respectable fashion compared to other sources.”

“My home is always open to you and your family and Francesa would adore having the two there for a visit.” Dante said with reassurance. “Our ties are too close for our families not to reach out when the other is in need.”

Willem

"That's slightly hypocritical coming from a family who dabbles in Voodoo." Willem said mildly, idly scanning Clair's from. It was dispassionate...disturbingly clinical. He turned to face Dante, a hand brushing Clair, smiling softly. "Not all that surprising. Deaths are everywhere, AMRO and everyone wants to know whose doing it. Thus, that's why everyone is here." Willem chuckled softly as Zidane arrived.

"Oof!"

Willem hit the ground. Hard. The Stein let out a grunt, feeling the weight of gravity crushing him to the ground. "Kneel." He hissed under his breath. The Stein bodyguards, bent over under the strain, fell to their knees. As the Laveau woman began screaming, he could only sigh in despair. "Stop being willfully stupid my dear. You're too smart for that. It's not any of the Bloodlines. No one possesses this power, and if there was we wouldn't be worried about each other we would be worried about them. Now, my intelligent little french heretic, tell me what organization posesses this power that we worry about constantly. Ding ding ding! That's right! It's AMRO! Judging from the powers being used, it's a Chrono, number 4, Reri. A childish girl with the powers of a God." Willem was fairly calm, as he was laying spread eagle on the floor.

Folami

"It's not that optimistic mo-aah!" Folami gave a startled cry as she was suddenly ripped from her senses of all the insects and forced to her knees. She snarled, trying to stand on her feet again. She may not be as prideful as her mother. But she still had pride herself, dammit. In an exercise of futility, she tried to stand until the Chrono released them all and sent the boat on it's way. "No need to show off that power now." She grumbled, rubbing a kink out of her neck.

Henry

The Patriarch of Queen Anne quickly kneeled as the Gravity increased, giving a bitter smile. "See? What'd I tell you. The tides change quickly." He slowly stood, watching as all the Asylums entered the boat. "Let the games begin then, eh?"

Lucas

"Fuck." He gasped, falling to his hands and knees. "How. Why. We haven't even done anything yet." He muttered as it seemed like his bones were going to smash into tiny pieces. When it finally raised, he stood to examine the Asylums walking in. His face darkened in hatred briefly as he saw Kiara and Maeve walked in. Mastering himself again, he began to walk towards his wife. There was plenty of time to interact with the other families. He didn't want to go swimming in shark infested waters until he was good and ready.

Arwen

"You're different from the other Kians."

The voice came from somewhere behind Samad. As he turned around, he would see a teenage girl with chocolate brown eyes and mocha skin staring at him curiously with her head tilted to the side, long black hair trailing down. "That's what Unky says at least. He says AMRO made you different. Not necessarily trustworthy, as AMRO doesn't like us either, but different. You don't hate us as much as the other Kian do. Or perhaps you just view us as beneath you." She pursed her lips in contemplation. "I don't think that's the answer though. You don't have the look of someone who thinks there above us."

Her eyes scanned his crossed hands, frowning in slight consternation as she looked at his partially concealed ring. "Hmm. I may be wrong. I hate being wrong." This was said largely to herself, before she brightened suddenly, smiling up at Samad. "Do you play card games?"

Samad blinks and debates on what to say, finally speaking in a neutral voice. "Not always a good idea to play with a tiger."

Arwen paused for a moment, uncertainty and fear crossing her face, a warning tingling in the back of her mind. She resolved herself, visibly squaring her shoulders before replying. "So you do play card games. You look miserable, like you could use something to distract yourself from being here. I have various cards on me. Magic, Pokémon, Yugi-Oh." She sighed in dismay. "Even the old fashioned boring poker and blackjack cards if you really insist."

Samad knew she wasn't going to allow him to slip back and melt into the background, his arms uncrossed and fell to his side. He sighed then gestured to a table. "I've never heard of the first three, but the last two I actually know. Though no funny business."

Maeve and Kiara

Maeve, still nursing her jaw, was looking for something to blow off steam. She couldn't take on the Air Jew and get her punch and kiss back, and she had to wait now that they were on the actual ship. Show of strength and all that. Come on you stupid four year old. Stop throwing a hissy fit. She thought, sulkily. You are acting the exact same way. [color=ed1c24][/i]Shut up and let me sulk.[/i]
[/color]
Maeve visibly perked up at the sound of Clair shouting. She grinned, as Kiara's face fell. Maeve don't... "Too late." With an alchemical leap and bound, Maeve landed surprisingly gently next the Laveau Matriarch. "Should I tell the Chrono your declaration?" She asked softly, with a predatory smile. "I'm sure she'll be reasonably pleased by your...what was it again. Ah yes! Declaration of war."

Her face suddenly hardened. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear." Her voice rose so that all could hear her. "AMRO sent us here to make sure none of you did anything stupid. That means murder attempts, betrayals, blackmails, declarations of war, or anything else you fuckers think you can try on each other while we're here. We have complete rights to stop you by any means necessary. Play nice or we will make you regret not playing nice."

Kiara was about to silently rebuke Maeve, adamantly not looking at the Peralta family, when she intercepted a telepathic message from someone, she wasn't sure who, to Angel. Her eyes widened in alarm, which quickly turned into anger as she saw Angel's reaction. Five bombs on the ship, and he's going to do nothing? she fumed, before sending out a message to the teams.

There are bombs on the ship. Five of them. We need to disable them before things go boom, and before the families find out. We don't want an all out panicked brawl breaking out.

How long it had been...too long. Cade answered his own question just a moment after asking it. His hazel grey eyes spotted a fair skinned man walking away with wine staining his lap, his figure poised and controlled, causing Cade to glance back at the table where the Legendes sat. He didn’t, or rather recall much, about the Bloodlines save that they signed some sort of treaty and they were the primary source of powerful Asylum providers to AMRO. A fact that made his heart hurt from the memorUies.

He naturally was pissed when they first told him what was to become of him. Even worse when he made comments about escape and gradually more crazy to fruitless ideas came to mind in order to change his fate. Sadly over half of them would’ve risked the very family that been charitable to his own. That realization naturally shifted his attention to his own family, part of him wondered if his parents had finally succeeded in conceiving another child. They been trying for years before him, his own birth was difficult, as his mother’s past was riddled with miscarriages or premature births.

Cade inhaled then pushed himself forward. His partner, Samad, was melting into the nearest wall and his eyes were idly watching, the sensation running down the younger Asylum’s back was creating a serious discomfort. His step pace increased while his fingers whitened from the grip upon the bag. He wasn’t sure if they would recognize him as the last time they saw him, he was merely nineteen. A young boy by their standards who was learning medical basics before everything changed and his family would never see him again. All outside ties, especially non-alchemists, had to be cut since AMRO claimed him for their property. At least that was what he wanted. Namely to keep them from becoming entangled into the dangers he was likely to face.

Zidane saw him first, his wrinkly face contorting as he squinted. He nodded slightly, humming a little as he eyed another salty snack. He knew things were about to get intriguing now. Anya glanced over at him, wondering what had prompted this little tune. But he made no attempt to communicate, so she slipped over into John’s chair and gently took her father’s hand.

“Daddy?” she whispered, smiling.

“My little flower, yes? Ah… it is Chad,” Zidane grinned, gesturing towards Cade.

“Chad?” Anya said, tilting her head sideways and missing his gesture.

“Brace this heart now,” Zidane whispered, poking his daughter in the chest before he sat back in his wheelchair.

She watched him relax, pulling his robe over himself and cozying up. Anya finally tore her gaze from Zidane and stole a glance at Mr. Knots (who had been merely staring ahead) before she took in the details of this ‘Chad’ person. ‘An asylum…’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But… this presence.’ In that moment, much of the reason wherefore she ached in her heart dulled considerably. And she knew not why. His gait, the look in his eyes, that hair… so familiar and she knew not why. He was coming over here, making a beeline in fact. Anya adverted her gaze shyly, which felt so odd.

And she knew not why.

Cade knew it was too late to turn back.

Despite this fact, his heart and mind was in a frenzy as he swallowed down the saliva collecting at his throat. A lump settled in his chest the closer he drew and his eyes shifted to spy Anya lean in, her figure seated closer to the old man in the wheelchair, in soft conversation. She held the Patriarch's aged weathered hand in her own causing Cade to hesitate, his pace slowed. He was questioning his timing as the woman looked from her father to him after the old man gestured to her heart, then away.

It was pretty too late now, he realised. On approach, he came to a stop within a reasonable and respectful distance for friends. He inhaled slowly then began to speak.

“Um, hello Anya. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I hope my family is doing well, I've not seen them in over 4 years?” Upon addressing her, his hand shifted downward and rested his medical bag against his thigh. Part of him was worried that she wouldn't remember him. The thought caused anxiety to swell. That emotion then mingled with guilt, fueled by inner knowledge of knowing she had every right to move on with her life. It was selfish of him to expect her to recall him and for her to grind to a standstill in time, namely for a future that will likely never happen. Bloodlines and Asylums didn’t tend to stay connected after AMRO got involved.

Naturally his posture tensed in waiting for her response should it be the worst.

Her breath stilled at the sound of her name rolling over his tongue. Her eyes met his, hazel grey windows brimming with round rims. Anya glanced left, then right, habitually sensing who else was watching. This asylum had approached them. Had they done something wrong? She blinked away, taking in the full weight of his words.

Trusting her father, Anya nodded finally and smiled, “Yes, Chad, it … it certainly has! Um, we’re fine, I mean… uh…”

‘Wait, is there a Chad in our family?’ Anya mused, wondering why Cade had said ‘my family’.

Cade stiffened in reaction. His chest hurt much more than he expected it to as he tried to politely smile, the gesture’s meaning not quite reaching his eyes as he considered what to say next. Honestly, he wasn’t fully prepared for the possibility of her forgetting him and now he was stumbling in his mind for a reply. His fingers merely gripped his bag as he hid it behind his figure, hoping to quietly keep his discomfort subtle enough to be ignored.

But before she could compose herself, Zidane spoke, his voice jilted with a hint of glee. “I think she… ah, yes, she means Cade. It seems that, ah... Mr. Markell has returned from the dead, no?”

Chuckles...

The Asylum nodded, relieved at least someone recalled him. His free hand ruffled his hair back as he ran his fingers over his scalp, a nervous gesture from his childhood. He abruptly twisted his eyes to Mr. Knots. The very tall man made him unsettled to say the least. An aura of creepiness wafted off him caused the young man to give an involuntary shiver at meeting Mr. Knots’ gaze then jerked away on contact. He wasn’t sure if it was the unsettling tallness or the stillness the man projected, but something wasn’t right about him.

Father-Daughter trust was now broken. Ignoring Mr. Knots as he stared through Cade, Anya glared at her father, pointing the top of her head towards Cade so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. Zidane merely sat back again, glancing askew at his very young daughter who could not even fathom her father’s actions. Yet.

He answered the unspoken question she had. “Ah, yes… chide me later, but… I’ve merely played the icebreaker, no?” he rasped at her, chuckling as he glanced at Cade.

She sighed lightly through her nose and begrudgingly looked up at Cade. “Sorry, Cade… I knew it was you! It’s just… Daddy has gone oh, simply senile in his old age.”

“Sanity is relative, hon,” Zidane countered, gesturing Mr. Knots to wheel him away.

“I’m pretty sure several Asylums would disagree with you, Sir.” Cade popped off, not fully thinking. He knew his comment wouldn’t have much meaning to the either of them as he wasn’t clear, or likely couldn’t recall, how much the families knew about the link partners shared. To be honest, he was still learning it himself. “And sure you did remember me, Anya. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you did forget me. Our last meeting wasn’t… the most memorable one and it had been a long time.”

Zidane merely bunched up his eyebrows at Cade in friendly defeat. Then the butler compiled, the slightest bow-curved smirk biding its time under his long nose. Anya kept her eyes on Cade, staring up into his pupils until her father was out of earshot. Then she stood and offered her arm. She knew from her studies that sometimes an asylum fancied a bloodline member, merely for appearance. So it would just be in appearance that she’d entertain him. Or so she hoped.

“Shall we seek a private corner to converse?” Anya smirked, fighting so very hard to quell her rapidly beating heart.

“You’ll hear no objects from me, Ma’am. Lead on.” Cade stated, holding out his arm for her take. When she gripped his offering, his other hand pressed lightly in politeness over hers as his steps fell into rhythm with her lead. His medical bag was tucked into the nook of his elbow to prevent any issues and not risk losing the contents, the side hitting him unpleasantly in the side. However, he ignored it in favor of the company he was allowed. He didn’t care if the others were briefly or outright gawking at them, his attention split between keeping upright, not tripping over her feet, and Anya for the time being. Not even Samad would be able to really ruin this moment.

Anya noted Cade’s behavior, finding it simply familiar to … well… her fiance. She glanced aside, biting her lip as uncomfortable weights anchored her body. ‘Max… where are you?’ she pondered, silently leading the slender asylum to a dark corner of the meeting room. She have had no contact with her Jewish fiance, Maxwell Krichilsky, in the past few weeks. Despite their busy, rigid schedules they had always made time for at least texts and emails. But nothing. Not a thing. Even when she had contacted the other members of the bloodline, they had only stonewalled her messages and ignored her phone calls. It was quite unlike them.

And now the Krichilsky family wasn’t even present at the Meeting of the Crests, save for a single pock-faced representative.

She shook her face, letting go of Cade’s arm and facing him rather casually, so as to comfort him. Like Maxwell, Cade seemed easily nervous and startled, reading into things. In her experience, trying to hard to comfort them would merely have the opposite effect. It would make them feel bad. So, she simply smiled up at him, choosing her next words carefully.

“You’ve… changed a lot, Cade,” she noted, “Perhaps the AMRO isn’t all… that bad?”

“I wish. They basically gave me a crash course and expected me to learn it or die trying. Actually surprised it didn’t kill me to be honest.” Cade admitted, not going into the details. He knew telling her the first thing they did to him would certainly frighten her and that was the last thing he wanted to do as a conversation starter.

“Hmm… so rather like the Roman Spartans then,” she chuckled, glancing away, “History repeats itself.”

She leaned against the wall, sinking behind Cade and appearing somewhat smaller, more fragile. Crossing her arms, she wondered how her big brother John, was doing… she hadn’t sensed his return yet from changing his spoilt attire. The young heir shook her head. It wouldn’t do to think of another man when the one before her should have her undivided attention. She glanced up at Cade.

“So… you’re partnered with a … an Arab?” she noted, spying Samad melting into the ship’s structure like a wall flower.

“I won’t call that to his face. He’s actually an Iranian, though he’s not really told me much about himself since we linked several months back. It’s not even been a year.” Cade said casually, his eyes followed her gaze toward where Samad was. As if on cue, the Iranian’s brown eyes perked up and looked into his direction, causing the younger Asylum to jerk his head away nervously.

The Persian’s voice, faint and soft, entered into his head causing Cade to frown. ‘Talking about me? You know it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs… you might as well introduce me at least. ‘

’Get out of my head.” Cade said, mentally, his lips pursed in irritation at the topic.

’Then stop it or I might just intro myself to your pretty little friend without your permission.’

That shut up Cade fairly quickly as he shook his head, the words echoed from within causing his stomach to twitch in anxiety. The last thing, through he couldn't rightly explain why, he wanted was for Anya and Samad to meet. Deep down, Cade suspected it was because he didn’t fully trust the man to behave himself around her. He continued on the topic. “He can be a bit of a rough diamond, I suppose is an accurate description of him.”

Anya mulled over Cade’s initial words, chiding herself gently over abusing cultural terms of the Middle East. But she was completely drawn in on what happened next: the facial expressions, the subtle cues in body language. All of which wasn’t even remotely directed at her. She snake-eyed Samad -- a skill her father had taught her, supplemented later by John and Mr. Knots; that is, the way one sees through the corner of one’s eyes without actually looking -- and figured that they were doing that ‘telepathy’ thing. She had heard of asylum links being capable of such a thing. It was possible with alchemy, but evidently it did not drain one’s sanity. She wasn’t 100% sure on the truth on that matter. But if it was, it was an astounding success on the AMRO’s part.

“Indeed… and you, Cade?” she smiled again, turning towards him, attempting to suck in his attention span.

“What kind of man are you, old friend?” she emphasized, with a cocked eyebrow.

Cade looked at her a moment, his thoughts idly trying to figure out how to explain what he had become. Things had been...interesting with AMRO, though very few were at all pleasant as he shifted his eyes to the more creative branch of thought. He knew details were best left unsaid. "Honestly, I don't know."

He took a sharp breath then continued. “It’s hard to tell anymore. I try to be good despite my partner’s jaded views of the world, but let’s say my views often cause more trouble and harm than good. I can only hope, in the end, it’s the thought that counts.”

At that point, at the corner of her eye, she noted Mr. Knots staring at her, his hands on her father’s wheelchair as the two of them made their rounds, visiting folks of other bloodlines and exchanging whatever salutations and small talk were possible. The butler then glanced over his shoulder, causing her to follow his knowing eyes. John had returned, decked in a new suit and tie. He seemed slightly dismayed that neither kith nor kin had remained at the table where they had previously sat. His eyes scanned the room, and Anya returned her gaze to the more interesting man in said room.

Noting Anya’s head move, her eyes shifted to the dark haired man he spotted depart earlier, Cade addressed his growing curiosity. “Friend of yours? I noted he was sitting beside you and Zidane earlier, but left for some reason. I didn’t think the Meeting of the Crests allowed outsiders, so I assumed he was connected to your bloodline somehow.”

She noted his sincerity, feeling closer to him for it. ‘At least he’s still honest,’ she sighed lightly with content. Listening to the rest of his words, though, concerned her… it felt as though Cade was lost in spite of himself, and the journey he was on was a path full of dark clouds and quagmires. If that was true, then the struggle was all too real for her-- for she knew that one often had to lose one’s self in order to find one’s self. And she had thought she’d find her own in Maxwell, but… she decided to address the subject later, after she have had time to digest it. At least, she didn’t feel that thoughts matter if there were no weights behind them.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, noting Cade’s awareness of her big brother in spite of her sudden discomfort. Emotions swarmed over her, leaving her body hot and cold, alone and crowded all at once. She gasped lightly, covering her bare shoulders with her hands. She knew not the source, for if she did, she would have probably fled from Cade.

Love, in all its sources, never needed alchemy.

She composed herself just in time. “Oh, … well, he’s my older brother, Cade,” she beamed about the fact.

Cade’s eyebrows scrunched down in surprise. His mind absorbing her words then again shifted to the man, taking in his appearance and noting he didn’t look dark skinned. In fact, he was paler than a ghost in his opinion. Immediately, the man felt guilt at his sudden judgement and the thoughts edging into his focus from them. There had to been another reason and explanation for as he turned to Anya for it.

She glanced up at him, her full lips forming a duckface for a brief moment. “Half brother,” she added, hoping Cade wouldn’t be close-minded when it came to skin color.

Of course, after being partnered with Samad, she hoped it would make sense. Then again, maybe not...

“I was going to say, the resemblance is hard to see. Though it’s likely the distance that isn’t helping much and result from the surprise of learning you had a step-sibling. How long ago? Did you find out, that is?” Cade asked, hiding his suspicious tone fairly well and casting away the actual thoughts penetrating unwillingly into his head. Part of him was worried the man was scheming the family but he didn’t think Zidane was a fool enough to take some stranger’s word on it, the man wasn’t the type last he knew.

Anya tilted her head, squinting slightly at Cade’s diction. ‘Step-sibling?’ she thought.

Waiting just as he finished, Anya smirked coyly. “Not step-sibling… half-brother,” she corrected gently, leaning her right shoulder into his side.

“John is fully related to my father by blood…” she explained, glancing at the man, “and yes, many people simply will not believe it. But the truth, Cade, is that we are all different shades of the same color brown.”

Cade grew quiet, regretting his carelessness with his wording. He bit his lower lip in the rightful chewing out, through mild, he deserved as he waited out the lecture.

She sighed lightly, then said, “Sorry… didn’t mean to get so preachy… but um, to answer your question, we’ve known each other for… oh, little over 2 years…”

Looking down, her voice lowered. “John is an intense, but… remarkable man, really. I trust him with my life.”

“Of course, he is his father’s son. A real chip off the old block, if you don’t mind the cliche,” she joked, winking up at Cade as her gaze then remained on his eyes.

He smiled when she winked, showing no reaction beyond slight discomfort that gradually faded when she turned her tone into a more playful manner. “I understand that. My father often stated I was like my mother in my personality. From her gentle heart to her compassion for others, he could’ve sworn we were one and the same.”

Having mentioning his father, he was reminded of why he approached Anya in the first place and then added. “Speaking of them, I originally came over to ask about them. How are they doing?”

Anya beamed again, at how Cade explained his personality in regards to his mother. A few choice memories slipped into her mind then, but after a moment, she felt her mouth falling agap; That simple question, ‘How’ … it caused her to inhale sharply as she adverted her gaze for a moment, then look back up at him. Her eyes slightly misted, a welling of tears not yet evident but surely building up.

She looked to the right, then to the left, then back up at Cade, before simply mumbling, “Um… they, I mean, your mother and father… they are uh…”

Something was off, Cade could feel it when Anya seemed to stall on her answer. His hazel eyes narrowed in confusion as he studied her, unsure about the source. “Anya, they are what? What’s the matter?”

She cleared her throat and held her elbows with opposite hands. “They have passed away,” she finally said, sweat dripping down her brow.

Ice cold dread seeped into his core, his heart weighed by lead and sat there like a beast clawing away at his insides. His hand flickered out on impulse, dropping his medical bag with a loud thump, and braced himself against the nearest wall, his knees felt suddenly unable to hold him upright. A sourness crept into his throat back, signs of wanting to get sick abruptly, while he forced it down and made his throat burn. His skin had gone very white in color. His eyes no longer seeing Anya there, his mind was trying to understand her last words echoing in his head. They’re dead...dead, but...how? Why?

Samad felt it, Cade knew that much, but the man did nothing. His figure merely paused then settled back into his chair to continue his task with little compassion to his partner.

Anya stooped down to pick up Cade’s medical bag, sliding the loop over her arm. At that moment, the Undertaker had slipped out of the blackness of the corner, his suit matching it almost perfectly. His red tie contrasted well against his fine threads. Standing at Anya’s side, John noted her perplexion, and Cade’s. His eyebrows rose up, considering the cause, but then immediately pinpointing it. He nodded slightly, his hands rested on his cane before him.

He tilted his head. “I see that you’ve informed Mr. Markell, Anya?” John asked her, to which she merely nodded.

Though he could sense the man there, the Asylum barely noticed John edge into the scene. Like a wraith from the shadows, he had positioned himself across from the fairer haired man and made Cade’s skin tingle from being sized up. For the moment, as rudely as it was, Cade didn’t give a damn. It seemed he was stuck in his own living nightmare, one with no end or way to wake up. Even worse, Anya could witness his emotional breakdown in public.

With that thought being singled out, he tried to compartmentalize his emotions. It was going to take some effort and time, his reaction slower since he wasn’t fully expecting his worst fear to become a reality.

John turned to Cade, as Anya stepped away from the asylum so that she was an equal distance between both men. Her hand then, without warning, reached out and held Cade’s, and she squeezed it gently, like she used to do when they were younger, and had nothing but the stars and clouds to gaze at.

Impulsively, Cade’s hand tightened in response. His lungs seemed to fail him but he managed to keep a steady pace in his breathing, a feat he wasn’t really sure how he had managed to accomplish really. John’s words caused his eyes to raise up and meet Anya’s half-brother. There was a subtle, budding redness threatening to mist over his usually clear eyes as he jerked away, facing the wall for the second. He realized his emotions were trying to surface and he made to collect himself again.

“You have my condolences, Mr. Markell,” John stated, his tone carefully tempered with stoicism and compassion, “Your parents were, as I recall, brilliant and brave to the last. Especially your father, he coped with his illness better than anyone could ever expect.”

“That’s right,” Anya added, squeezing Cade’s hand harder.

“I know. I just… I wanted them never to know they lost a son and now…” His words cut off and it felt like Anya’s grip was the only thing keeping him anchored to the present. Preventing him from retreating into some dark, self hating corner of his mind. How the fuck can be alright? I’ll never see them. They died thinking I had abandoned them… how can anything ever be alright?

Anya bit her lip, trying not to cry. “You can honor their memory, Cade,” she said softly.

John piped in, not losing a step. “Indeed. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I’m sure they knew you were doing your absolute best.”

He nodded, continuing, “In fact, despite the financial troubles they had endured, the Markells still took great care of their regular patients, turning none away. Just like you…”

John paused, observing how Cade was taking all this. Anya did the same.

Cade was quiet. Hearing and accepting it were two different things, the last much harder than he cared to admit. “How...how did it....?” He struggled with the words, partly scared to say them as it made this more and more real.

“How did they die?” Anya offered, glancing at John.

“As I recall,” John nodded, closing his eyes briefly, “Your mother passed in childbirth shortly after you were… taken in at the AMRO. Then a few months later, your father’s illness flared up again. It caused a car crash, too, but he saved the other driver and her family; however, in that last bout of strength, nobody was there to treat his symptoms. Frankly, the EMTs didn’t know what was wrong with him.”

Anya’s heart swelled up, and a single tear finally escaped, rolling down her cheek. Even in her slightly blearly vision, she actually caught Mr. Knots staring at her from a distance, as though studying that tear. Gritting her teeth, she blinked and looked away, burying her gaze into Cade’s comforting chest.

Cade nodded, understanding, through he felt guilt seep into his heart over it. If he could rip it out, he might’ve considered and done it just to spare himself the misery it was bring it.

“Ah, well,” John replied, looking aside to catch his memories before continuing, “Anya thought it would be quite nice if I bought their facility and spruced it up. Dedicate it to their memory, in other words. The Markell Memorial. I assure you it is continuing onwards, honoring their name and what they stood for.”

Anya found herself staring at John as he spoke, his words mesmerizing her. John then withdrew something from his pocket-- a card. It emblazoned his name and contact details on it. He took a step forward, looking down at Cade’s chest as he held it out.

“Should you ever need me for anything--anything at all,” John explained, his eyes then slithering up to meet Cade’s gaze.

“Even if it’s only for the hefty loyalties from the memorial,” he added, causing Anya to look at Cade, too.

“I don’t care if we’re worlds apart, Cade, it’s not a reason that we can’t be there for one another,” Anya stated, still holding Cade’s hand, but then offering him the medical bag he had dropped.

John cocked an eyebrow at Anya. “Be careful what you wish for, dear sister,” he cautioned, his eyes finally looking down at the enjoined hands that he had noted when they had first reunited.

Cade took the card and then his bag. He thought for a moment he was going to drop it but managed to get a firm grip, his tone struggling to remain utterly calm. His words were short and difficult yet simple enough to express his gratitude toward them both. “Thank you.”

John nodded curtly at Cade, and then offered his arm to his sister. As she took it, Anya held her other hand up to Cade’s face, cupping his cheek briefly and letting the warm of her hand ignite his heart, if it would. The Legende duo then turned away, taking a meandering path back towards their table. With Anya’s face glued to the floor as John eyed Mr. Knots and Zidane heading toward the Kians, one would have to wonder what had just transpired between them and an asylum.

[Previous Post]

---

Ilana Mhori rested her sweaty forehead against the cool, metal wall. Inky darkness obscured the dusty crates that flanked her body, over which stray beams of sunlight peeked through the high, musty windows. The Huntress slowed her breathing, controlled her rapidly beating heart as she brought her hands up. Pushing herself away from the wall with a grunt, she let the momentum turn her around, her shoes dragging clumsily and her arms freely swinging. It was as though her limbs had been replaced by puppet arms, yet her body remained standing; a defiant brunt against an unseen Adversarial. Her long, black hair was up in a bun, but a few strands, having escaped confinement, stood out wildly.

She lifted her drooping face, the shadow of her bangs no longer concealing deep and fierce olive eyes.

'Ethan...?' she thought to herself, having expecting him to suddenly appear.

Ilana waited a moment more. Nothing. She pondered if she had put too much effort in her attempt to elude him, and her audience; The other asylums. She could still feel his general mood, and he, hers; however, it was part of the rules of their latest bet to close her mind to him as well. Something about theatrics and method acting, Ethan had explained a day before. Now she was worried that she actually had gotten too much into her... persona. Clearly, her partner could not be replaced. Sighing, she stifled a yawn and prepared to crack her fingers and pop her back at the same time, by outstretching her arms before her.

Suddenly, a strong, bodily heat pressed into her from behind and a single, large hand gently grasped her wrists.

"They say doin' dat gives ya arthritis," Ethan Baine teased, his familiar, baritone voice vibrating her eardrums.

"And I say that's just bullshit," Ilana countered with a grin, whipping around to face her partner.

As the Hybrid let her hands go, Ilana sighed with relief. She was happy to see him, to be alone once again. Her eyes danced up Ethan's massive torso as she pulled a pin from her bun. Her hair flopped down lazily, causing the man to tense up slightly. Still grinning, she slipped her hands up his stomach, rubbing her palms hard onto his strong pecs. He took a small step back, not really resisting her advances but not really welcoming them either. She didn't seem to care, as she began turning her nails inwards as though to claw his flesh through his form-fitting purple shirt. Ethan then gently covered her hands, holding them still, yet she persisted.

Now the man felt the wall behind him, effectively trapping him in front of a ... seemingly ravenous creature!

"Illa?" Ethan breathed nervously.
"Mmmyess?" she purred seductively.
"Don't really got time," he stated, training his reverse-mirror glasses to match her piercing gaze.

Ilana saw herself, and blinking, realized what she had become. Both jealousy and disappointment immediately cooled her flaring jets. But before hope could slip away and leave her bare naked before despair, Ethan rubbed the back of her hands with his thumbs. The smallest gesture anchored her mind.

"It's okay, I'm just--" he began.
"--just unsure, yeah. It's new, I understand," she nodded, looking down and retracting her hands to her chest.
"Yeah," Ethan said simply, slipping his thumbs into his pants behind the belt as his fingers dangled out.
'New to you, anyway,' Ilana thought to herself, somewhat bitterly.

Silence engulfed the two of them, both of them searching their own feelings for precedents regarding this development. It was not that they didn't love each other--that was undeniable and a given. Nor was it that they didn't trust each other--any remaining doubts had long ago been stirred away like useless slag as battle after battle forged their alloyed bond. And of course, the various games they contested each other with certainly stimulated them thoroughly... in mind, body, and soul. And yet... in the eight years since Innocence Fall (a term that commemorated Julie's death for them and Geko), they have, without a doubt, changed a great deal. They have fought those changes alone for the longest time, hiding them from each other out of fear of eroding their stance against Insanadiction; However, Team Mischief Maven have come to realize just how much they needed each other, more than ever before as the perpetual wiles of the alchemic curse raged against their aging fortitude.

Ethan watched, grimacing slightly, as Ilana pulled a Virginia Slim out of her bra.

She looked at him expectantly, her hands on her hips. Sighing, Ethan stepped forward, sparing no personal space as he withdrew a lighter and lit her cigarette. Gratitude poured into his mind through their mental link as she, eyes closed, took a long drag, much like he used to after securing a victory. Smoke released as she opened her eyes, but then had a thought. Eyeing the black asylum, Ilana held her treat aside and touched Ethan's arm.

"This does mean I won, right?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Ethan chuckled, raising his hands onto his head as he recalled the details of the game. She and him had gotten into a fight during a mission over how stupid his macho attitude and mannerisms were. He'd explained that it was just an act, all show, and simply amusing to him. Ilana did not believe him, not one bit. Feelings hurt, Ethan insisted it was hard work and that it protected him from people getting to know the real him. Again, his partner held his regard in disbelief. So naturally, it took the intellect of the Sciencer to convince the Air Jew to try it herself and prove to him it was not effective.

As in, Ethan wagered that Ilana couldn't impersonate him.

"But yeaaah... I dun think we can know, er... you know, if it doesn't work," Ethan concluded, smirking down at her, "That'd require feedback, yah? And you, eh... your Mansformation pree much alienated them kids."
"Ali-...alienated?" Ilana balked, lowering her Slim.
"Totally, hon," he nodded, chuckling.
"Oh my God, nooo..." Ilana growled, "This, this is bullshit!"
"Whaaat?" he asked, gesturing at her violently for clarification.
"I mean..." Ilana began, stopping for a short drag, "If even you thought I went too far, then... I am- I'm sunk..."

Ethan was silent for a moment, letting her epiphany sink into his mind. For her sake, he put on the show of really considering it, looking up, his face scrunching to the left. Then looking down, his face scrunching to the right. Ilana eyed him with trepidation, her Slim almost out.

"Naaw... really, yer... you are fine, that was nothing," Ethan assured her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
Ilana involuntarily whimpered. "B-But...!" she mewed, her breathing quickening.
"Jus' gotta upstage ya, y'know? An' dat's somthin' I can do. Ya dig it?" he chuckled.
She panted, licking her lips. "Yeah, I know, but I mean... if you really think I'm fine and, ...um," she replied, scatter-brained.
Ethan nodded, taking the cigarette from her as she kept staring before her, lost in scenarios where everyone ridiculed her.
"Yeah, yer fine, hon... I promise, you'll live it down..." he half-turned, smashing the heat of the Slim and killing it.

"Though... hmm," he trailed off, flicking the cigarette away.

Ilana's face twitched as she eyed the falling cigarette, Ethan's cliffhanger clearing away her stupor and energizing her hysterics. Her eyes darted up at him, just as he was turning to go.

"Hey!" she barked, flanking him, "What's that mean?"
"What what mean?" Ethan asked dumb-founded, pocketing his hands as he looked down at her.

She couldn't believe him. He was being, quite frankly, as lame as a Scottish duck sucking on a coin. Not the metaphorical lame Scottish duck sucking on a coin, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Without warning, Ilana exploded and jumped his stupid ass like a raging bull bearing down on a club-footed rodeo clown.

Ethan cried out, bewildered by the fact that a tiny, little woman had just pinned him effortlessly. The light in the window was stronger now, and directly behind Ilana, illuminating her form with a distinct blackness and aurora. Though Ethan's ocular implants portrayed her in a manner vastly different to the common man, to said man it would look as though a goddess of fury had been made manifest and was about to consume a mortal's soul for his foolishness!

"WHAT WHAT MEAN?" Ethan repeated in terror, squirming underneath her.
She dug those claws into his chest finally. But she spoke slowly, clearly. "You. Said. Though. Then. HMM..." she enunciated, the tip of her nose touching his.

He stalled, his mind racing. Her face twitched a second time!

"Oooh! Uh... well, you know, that dyke, watsherface... Maeve?" he stated, wincing from the pain.
Confusion derped her face, but he sent her a mental image of the girl.
"Yeah!?" Ilana hissed, spittle landing on his sunglasses.
"Well, ya kissed her, right? So dat's cool, I mean, she might stalk ya... fer a while," Ethan explained.

Ilana relaxed her claw-flesh-digging-death-choke. "And I can't, well I mean ... if you swing that way, I--" he continued, feeling he was making progress.
"--No no no no, I was just... that's what you'd do? Right?" Ilana cried, her mouth hanging over.
Ethan balked, then nodded. "Well, yeah... but I'mma man," he said slowly, gesturing at him, then at her. "You're... not, really."

Ilana closed her mouth. "I- ... I forgot that part," she whispered, her eyes narrowing.

Ilana was far too daunted by the idea of a stalker to realize Ethan had slipped out from underneath her, and helped her up. He even dusted her off for good measure. But then the sound of his boots echoing away snapped her out of it. Rushing up to him, she cried for him to wait.

"Really need t'catch up," he stated, sounding a little annoyed.
"B-But everyone thinks I'm just, fucking insane now!? We can't--" she spazzed.
"--But aren't you?" he teased, earning a swat on the arm.
"Stoppit! ... now, I just, ... how can I recover from, well, all that?" she cried, clutching her head.
"Ugh... c'mon Illa, just... just tell 'em ya was havin' fun," he shrugged, opening the warehouse door.
"Having fun," she repeated at him, deadpan.
"Yah, now you got it!" he chuckled, going out said door.

"But that wasn't fuu-uunn-uuunn-!" she whined loudly, clinging to his waist as he dragged her.

---

Team Mischief Maven simply stood, transfixed by the revolting spectacle. The shadow of another warehouse concealed their visual presence as Reri unleashed her pent-up wrath on the large cruise ship and its occupants. Thankfully, the veterans were out of the scope of her attack, but they dared not gloat about it. In fact, both Ethan and Ilana simply bowed, in the shadows, where nobody could see them, all in order to show respect to the Chrono and her Lost Number. All four of their reputations preceded them, but this would be the first time in a long one where they were on a mission together.

A thought occurred to Ilana. "Hey, you remember the suit?" she asked him.

Ethan stood up, pursing his lips. "... uh, yeah. But it don't fit me anymore, I think," he replied, sounding nervous.

Ilana smiled. "Oh, I'm sure I can fix it up to... accommodate you," she said, eyeing Reri with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah, yeah, you do that. But y'know, she prolly won't let me go..." Ethan stated, staring straight ahead.

"Ah-ha! Thanny, are you whining?" Ilana teased.
"No."
"Are you suuuure?" she giggled, darting in front of him and walking backwards.

Ethan ignored Ilana, and simply walked around her as she kept giggling incessantly. Suddenly, he poked her in the side, causing her to cry out and lose her balance. The huntress tumbled off the deck and into the cold waters, her splash louder than a curse in a cathedral.

---

Ilana kept out of sight. Ethan had asked her to, seeing as she was wet and smelly, and ought to go change. While she did so, she listened through their mental link as her partner overhead Angel's crowing and the bloodlines socializing. She knew she wasn't missing out on much. It wasn't really their scene, especially Ethan. No, the Hybrid stayed out of the large meeting room, using his ocular implants to see through the walls and identify everyone. Most of them had profiles he'd downloaded and was only now updating, sorting them into lists of his own fancies and reasons. Especially the ladies and girls.

"Hey," Ilana greeted, startling Ethan out of his scan.
'Hey...just scanning,' he replied mentally, clearing his throat and starting a second audio recording.

She nodded, knowing that his reply in thought meant they should communicate silently. Additionally, scanning was a cue to leave him be. Not that she really wanted to go mingle with anyone. She knew nobody, and didn't really want to. From what she'd heard of bloodline alchemists, they were the most vicious and cruelest cutthroats of them all; Kings of Skullduggery.

Not quite her cup of tea.

But then, who else was there? The other asylums? Ilana cringed. She had recovered from her wee episode, but the pain of ridicule and having to explain shit was a social obstacle she wasn't really wanting to deal with just then. So she stayed in the shadows, peeking through the doors, her face stern and scowling. She did take note of several asylums that she would have to make nice with later, but... then she saw Maeve.

Her lips tingled as her cheeks flushed.

The girl seemed upset. Ilana couldn't fathom why, but she was reluctant to admit that maybe it was because of the kiss. But then Maeve let out a rant on some poor fool that had sparked her ire. The Huntress then spied Kiara, ... the partner, she recalled. She wondered if the girl had to bear the worse of Maeve's wrath. But she then saw John Legende, arm in arm with a young lady, walking away from... Cade, wasn't it? In any case, her blood went cold. She was about to tell Ethan that 'Glide Storm' was here, but a strong feeling of disbelief surged through their mental link and interrupted her.

'Oh, what the hell!?' Ethan growled, intercepting the same message that Kiara did, and then receiving her prompt about the bombs.

The Hybrid responded to Kiara, being gentle to not overwhelm her. He stated that he and his partner would head for the engine room, towards the stern effectively, and under the restaurants. In his opinion, a serious threat would be made there first, so as to doom the vessel for certain. He then repeated that same message to the other teams.

Ilana trailed after him, barely able to keep up. She hadn't yet gone over the ship's schematics with him, which he had obtained immediately when the mission was sent to them. It was all she could do to avoid getting lost as the Hybrid took the shortest route to their destination.

'Well, guess this mission is starting out with a bang...' Ilana mused.

[Next Post]

“Now come on, you know assassins better than that.” Arwen replied brightly, turning around with a small hop.

”That’s what worries me.” Samad stated, his eyes catching his father’s glance in his direction then abruptly broke contact with the man. His expression, for a moment, took on an image of utter shame while he followed the girl. He pulled out a chair as he plopped into then waited for her to take her own seat.

She lead the way over to the table, practically skipping her way there. She drew a pack of poker cards from her pocket, and set it on the table. “Poker or Blackjack?” As she waited for his reply she drew a card from her pocket again, this time a pokemon card. Laying it face upshe twirled her finger above it, and the card seemed to ripple. A tiny version of the character rose from the card and Arwen immediately began cooing over it, a finger scratching the dogs back and stomach when it rolled over.

”Blackjack, I’ve not played it in a while.” His eyes narrowed upon the spiky haired pooch while it enjoyed its belly rub. He raised his eyebrow then added. ”Neat trick. You want to cut the cards or should I?”

His hand gripped the deck set then offered it to her after he shuffled it repeatedly.

“It’s amusing at best. Unky says that with time I could learn to use it for more than just card games.” Arwen replied, smiling sheepishly. She was clearly pleased with the comment, before taking the cards and dealing them out.

“So. You’re estranged from your family too.” She commented idly, handing out cards. “Kiara is as well. Though, granted, she killed Unky’s brother and father. It wasn’t her fault, really. Well, the murdering wasn’t. The lead up to though was.”

“Instead of trying to draw connections with me, shouldn’t you be more worried about the fact that you’re playing with someone that likely end your life and not suffer any consequences? I doubt your family will be pleased in the least of you interacting with an Asylum in the least.”

Arwen visibly tensed, but rather than paling in fear she seemed to flush with excitement. “Unky made me promise that I wouldn’t do anything dangerously stupid that might cause a war. You’re the closest I can get to an adrenaline rush and not do anything stupid.” She gave a sweet smile. “Like charming a snake or wrangling a tiger.”

His hand swiped up the cards then stared at them. It took a few moments to memorize them then set them face down from his eyes, his face not revealing any signs of worry over what he had just said. In fact, his expression was neutral as he added more. “You can go first. As for estranged...that’s a mild term to use and far too casual, one doesn’t want to become AMRO property after all.”

Samad’s tone seemed accepting of this while he leaned back into the chair.

“Ah.” Was all Arwen replied, staring at her own cards for a moment. “That’s what we’re doing with my younger brothers. Loyalty to AMRO and all that. Also a strong desire to not be eradicated, but mainly loyalty.”

Samad’s eyes shifted to note Cade had approached the Legendes and was now escorting the female, a pretty one to a secluded part of the ship deck. It was strange to see the woman’s father, or relative at least, willingly leave her alone in the company of an Asylum. It was strange to him and something that made his instincts stir, the need to discover why gently nudged at his brain. In time, he would personally take the time to learn it directly from either the Legendes or Cade himself.

His eyes returned when he watched her start them off.

“Unky isn’t pleased I’m doing this.” She continued, placing bets and her first card down. “He’s watching us from the distance. There’s a bullet or three in his hand and he’s tensed like a drawn bow. Evidently, he doesn’t trust you to not be like the red headed irish woman.” She grinned at him. “I, personally, am enjoying myself.”

“Then you are foolish. Fear keeps things like you alive, without it you are bound for extinction and I’m exceedingly patient.” He stated when she grinned then laid down a seven, his head shifted to the one she called Unky.

His eyes almost dared for the man to become foolish enough to start something as even if he managed to hit him with whatever little speciality he had, it would have issues hitting him. Samad was ready to either sped up or slow the man down, through it wouldn’t have stopped the attack but at least made it more it more manageable to deal with. As if to silently taunt the man, Samad let a small smile curl on his lips then abruptly fade before the girl could spy it.

“I never said I wasn’t afraid. I’m surrounded by enemies and people who have no problem killing me just because they can. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die here because I chose it on my terms. Not because some Asylum got bored or I didn’t see an enemy attacking.” Arwen replied, putting down another card. “Fear is necessary, but fear also gives me adrenaline. Which is great. “ She chuckled despite herself at Samad.

“Stop that. You push him to far and he’ll do something stupid. Then I’ll be killed to and the families will be even more freaked out and possibly attack, that won’t be good at all.”

“If he can’t handle it, he shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Besides, his attack has to hit first and that is not likely to happen.” Samad replied with a predatory grin, his hand placed down another card, a two this time.

His vision shifted back to Cade when he his neck hairs stood erect upon feeling both Cade and his lady friend pass a glance in his direction. His head turned to their direction when he mentally spoke to his partner. While his voice was strong in his own head, he knew it would’ve came off fainter in Cade’s due to their wobbly link. He couldn’t help the enjoyment rattling through him upon seeing Cade’s lips cross into a frown at the invasion, still trying to get use to it even after all these months. Through, it was understandable because they tended to keep almost completely out of each other’s head when not on a mission.

[color-deba5e] ‘Talking about me? You know it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs… you might as well introduce me at least. ‘[/color]

’Get out of my head.’ Cade shot back, clearly not liking this as his lips pursed in more irritation. This caused Samad’s smirk to deepen to show his enjoyment visibly.

Hoping to drive the fact he didn’t like being talked about behind his back, especially by someone he had to forcibly trust, he made one last reply. ’Then stop it or I might just intro myself to your pretty little friend without your permission.’

He had almost missed his turn when Arwen flipped over her card, his hand reached for the next one then flipped over a six as he mentally counted the numbers up. A seven, two and six put him at fifteen which he could’ve held or kept going up. He decided to keep going.

“Oh, I’m not talking about him attacking. He won’t do that unless you force his hands. And even then it won’t be to kill you. Just to buy me time to escape. If he gets too worried he’ll come over and be all protective, men, especially Asylums, tend to view that as a challenge. I really don’t want you posturing to him. It’s annoying.” Arwen rolled her eyes, idly scratching an arm.. “Tigers tend to posture a lot.” She laid down another card. “Ooh. A seven. So close, but no dice. House wins.” She grinned cheekily.

”Now that you’ve had your fun, what next?’ Samad stated, his hands folded up and pressed to his mouth. His eyes hardened and his features seemed voided of any humanity much like his tone. [color=deba5e] “Through… next time you scratch your arm, I might show you my alchemy speciality by tossing a card to embed in your flesh. I did state no funny business.”[/b][/color]

“Point noted.” Arwen muttered, twirling her finger and having her dog pokemon disappear. A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped in surprise, looking up to see Lucas behind her. “Petardo, what are you doing bothering this Asylum?” He gave soft smile at her. “He clearly is...unamused by your presence.” Lucas glanced at Samad, his other hand behind his back. “I apologize, Samad. She is...drawn to danger, and you represent two in one. We’ll be leaving now. Won’t we.” He glanced down at Arwen again.

“Yes Uncle.” She spoke despondently, rolling her eyes in a despairing way at Samad. Lucas lightly flicked her head. “I saw that.”

Samad’s eyes flickered with surprise and then shifted to Lucas, noting his use of his name. Though he never mentioned it before. He studied the patriarch for a moment then released the eye contact, his figure pulled back into the chair. The man’s hands were still clasped through he had lowered them upon the table.

When Lucas flicked Arwen’s head with his middle finger, Samad focused on the momentum and retracted it from the attack. His finger twitched slightly and gave away the source as the young girl felt nothing at all when it hit. Samad merely gently smiled. “Overprotectiveness is often its own danger and no, she wasn’t bothering me or I wouldn’t have offered to play cards.”

He stood upright, then offered his hand to her. Personally, it was a pleasure meeting you. If you ever have the urge to play again, maybe I’ll let you teach me one of yours. Good bye.”

Lucas didn’t seem to react to his finger being slowed down, merely glancing back at Samad. “Out of place overprotectiveness, I agree. In a sea of enemies with people who have no qualms about murdering infants, everyone needs their protection. That isn’t even considering the other Bloodlines.” His eyes narrowed at Samad as Arwen beamed and shook his hand. A quiet whistle and the the wind brushed by the ex-Kian’s ears. “If you hurt my daughter, I will kill you. Asylum or no. Either make do on your promise, or stop playing your games.”

“Lets go Petardo. We need to mingle with the other Bloodlines and pretend like we all don’t hate each other.”

Samad merely chuckled, softly, after the two departed. His hand had retracted back to his side and hung there, hooked into his waistband while he eyed their departing backs. When they were out of sight, he spoke quietly
to himself. “I did warn her not to play with a tiger… we tend to love our games.”

Sadam & Cade

Samad was still smirking, his mood over babysitting the Bloodlines faded into a brighter one after he finished annoying Lucas, the Patriarch of the Peraltas. His hand pushed in his chair then reached for his cane, something he had been using the whole time and turned on heel, his casual walk gradually being him to his position. The Asylum fully intended on resuming his earlier spot to continue watching the families ‘playing’ nice, an act faked by many. Halfway there, his mind caught the telepathic message Kiara sent to everyone. He paused a moment and listened to the details.

’There are bombs on the ship. Five of them. We need to disable them before things go boom, and before the families find out. We don't want an all out panicked brawl breaking out.’

Samad’s fingers gripped tightly the lion head, knuckles whitening in concern upon learning about the threat.

‘Shit…’ he thought bitterly. Irritation rippled through his patience and started to surface into his features, his face chiseled into a hardened expression.

He reined it in quickly and his teeth bit back his inner conflict, knowing it wouldn't have done a lick of good to rant like a child over the circumstances. His eyes shifted toward where he had last spotted Cade, and noted his partner’s mysterious absence. The Iranian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion then pushed forward, pain edging into his attention from the continue thought about the new threat bearing down upon them. There was little way to tell how they still had.

Samad’s mind reached out to Cade’s through their link, his mind compartmentalizing his issues then centering on the most important one: Contacting Cade. As his headache stirred, the Asylum made a note that his medicine was wearing off and he would have to ask the Doc for a new round. It was bad enough he was around his family, but having to also suffer through almost crippling pain was beyond acceptable. ‘Did you hear that Cade?’

Nothing.

Samad mentally cursed. That’s when one team of Asylums, his knowledge of the team lacking due to them being late, Cade’s fault naturally, mentioned they would be checking on engine room near the stern. The place where the most damage could’ve occurred with least amount of effort. Samad had been about to answer when Cade’s anxiety came roaring out of nowhere, hitting him like a train with enough force to cause his head to hurt from the tons of stressful emotions smacking him about in its wake.

Samad’s eyes widened slightly in shock as he quickly addressed the flood, trying push through the thick and clouded over distraction created by his new link. This was still something he had to readjust back to since Elsa’s death. He also didn’t like the fact something had irritated his partner when he wasn’t around and he didn’t know exactly what it was or how threatening it was. ‘Cade, what's wrong? Talk to me this time, or I swear-’

Cade's next words sent chills down his spine, interrupting his threat. ‘I think I just… found one of the bombs…’

‘Where?’ Samad demanded.

‘I’m currently a little busy disarming it… Get here, please.’ Cade stated, his tone calm but his mind was pure, untamed panic. Something that Samad was getting rather uncomfortable with the longer he was exposed to it.

‘Don’t move, I’m coming.’

With that in mind, Samad abruptly started to quickly move away from the guests. He wanted to get somewhere out of their range of sight then detour back to Cade. He had no doubt that Lucas would’ve been relieved to see him depart and staying away from his niece, at least until the Patriarch discovered why. Oddly enough, Samad didn’t doubt the other Asylums’ ability to keep secrets, but he knew all secrets came to the light eventually. One could only bury something so far before it was tracked back up and spotlighted because of that to create additional harm. Especially since some families were more were adept at reading into and putting things together than others, even when it wasn’t their business to do so.

Last thing that help it was him suddenly popping out to who knew where.

That was something Samad was afraid would happen when he felt his father’s eyes latch onto his retreating back and lingered there. He knew there was a questioning glance accompanying it. He hastened his steps with the momentum stolen from Lucas’ flick, a minor burst of speed but effective enough to pull away from anyone following him. In moments, he shortly vanished out of the room. Taking the long corridor before him, he branched off and moved down the nearest stairs.

He seemed to be heading away from where he sensed Cade’s location… at first. Gradually, his alchemy started to buzz in his veins while he envision a teleportation spell, thinking of being in the same area as his partner. Suddenly a pop happened, and then he vanished into thin air.

A bit later, Samad popped back into existence.

Annoyance spread across his face when he noticed where he was: right outside the ship’s public restroom. Inhaling deeply, he pushed his right hand out to open the door and strolled inside. The first thing that caught Samad’s eyes was Cade sitting upon the floor within one of the stalls at the other end, his torso propped against the toilet bowl and head pulled nearby as if he was getting sick within. Frowning, the ex-Kian moved past the urinals on his left and the sinks on his right toward his partner.

When he stopped near Cade, he hopped down into a crouch position and spoke. “Where the hell is the bomb?”

Cade abruptly jerked from the start Samad gave him, his head twisted backwards and came face to face with the stern faced Asylum. It was now that Samad could now clearly see the younger man’s arm reaching against the far back and near the top of the bowl, his fist gripping a few colored wires. Fear and curiosity sparked deeper into Samad’s core causing the dark complexioned man to slowly lift. He shortly spied the small bomb planted behind the very toilet as Cade’s skin looked much more paler than usual.

The bomb itself was rather crude. It was small, black box with multiple wires sticking out from its sides and were attached to what appeared to be several chemical tubes filled with blue liquid. Samad guessed they were some type of explosive in liquid form for easy smuggling onto the cruiseliner. A timer, its analog readout ticking down, was visible with digital red numbers underneath.

“Why didn’t you use alchemy to defuse it?” Samad asked in a blunt, obviously disapproved tone at Cade’s approach.

”You don’t think I didn’t? It didn’t work and the last thing I wanted to do was to get down on my hands and knees in front of a toilet bowl....” Cade growled, then added a question in huffy tone. “Now, can you get to my medical bag?”

Samad shook his head then proceeded to look around, his cane placed on the wall divider near the urinal. As he spotted the bag, he retrieved it from the marble surface then placed it beside Cade. He had even been nice enough to open it up and reveal several tools made for blond’s specialty in medicine. After a moment passed, Cade commented -while reaching for a pair of clamps within it- about the door. “Also, prop yourself against the door to make sure no one walks in on this. I much rather not reveal we have a bomb or come up with another reason why I’m down here.”

“Tell them you’re drunk.”

Cade paused, his torso had edged into a laying down upon his side, propped himself back upon his elbow. He started to cast a look that screamed ‘Really?’ right back at the Iranian. For a moment Samad become aware how stupid his suggestion sounded and naturally corrected himself. “Yeah, you’re right. You don’t look the type to get drunk.”

The doctor rolled his eyes at his partners snickering and returned to defusing the bomb, ignoring him to focus on the bigger issue. This only made the man’s smirk deepen. Samad then informed the others where their bomb was currently located at so to prevent anyone else from trying to search here and waste more time. He especially enjoyed Cade’s embarrassment, everyone knowing exactly who had found it first, while he did it. Cade groan softly in the background as Samad leaned against the door, blocking it and preventing anyone inside.

His amber eyes studied the doctor working carefully through neither of them knew what exactly they were doing. Inwardly, Samad was debating on if this was a good time to drill Cade over his connection with the Legendes or wait until the bomb was disarmed. Sensing Samad’s eyes on him like a pin tacking a butterfly to a display, Cade spoke to break the silence.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“ I was just wondering something. Namely why you were flirting with that Legendes girl earlier.”

Cade’s ears heated at the topic causing them to becomes slightly reddish as he tried to cast off Samad’s interest with a causal and unemotional comment. “What do you mean? I merely wanted to learn...”

He stopped abruptly, his parents memory flooding his mind and caused his heart to ache. He wasn’t ready to deal with this pain and certain not right now. However, Samad was determined to press it.

“ Really? And what did you want to learn from her? Especially a pretty little thing like that? ”

“Just… drop it Samad.”

“Tell me. ”

“Drop it or you’ll make me blow us both sky high, taking the ship down with us.”

“She’s a Bloodline, you’re Asylum… it won’t work. ”

“Samad… please, not now.” Cade pleaded making Samad grow silent.



Cade, after he heard the bomb timer go dead silent, sat up with the device in hand. He held the box, several wires were frayed and seemed cut with expertise of a surgeon, in his shaky grip while his other held the tubes carefully in the other. Cade was very, very rattled and anyone could easily see it. He cautiously held out for Samad to pull out of his hand and relieve him of anymore burden in handling it. Samad reached out then placed it onto the counter before he held out his hand for Cade to grip and pull himself to his feet.

“Good god. I wasn’t even sure if that brief study in bomb defusion was going to actually pay off one. Thankfully it’s all over now.” He bent down and gripped his bag, ensuring the clasps were all tightly secured.Instinctively, his eyes warily noted the bomb just sitting there almost too peacefully. “Now, you have ideas of where to put this?”

“Not a clue.”

“Geeze, you’re helpful.” Cade stated blandly.

Samad had been about to reply when a sound made them both stop in their tracks. Tick...Tick...Tick. Their heads turned to spy the analog hand move and digital numbers once more counting down from its original 7 seconds, the point where Cade had managed to defuse the bomb.

“I thought you disarmed it.” Samad looked accusingly at Cade’s shocked face, their heads unable to tear away.

In total disbelief, the younger Asylum defended what his logical mind knew was true. “I did, I swore I did…” Then something clicked that he hadn’t considered before. “Oh dear God... it has to have a backup battery!”

“DAMN IT CADE. If we get out of this alive, I’m going to beat you senseless!” Samad snapped, his arm jerked out and seized it. He quickly bolted toward the stall. His arm shoved Cade to the side as he tried to slow the ticking timer to a crawl… without success.

“Samad don’t--”

Their telepathic linking them to the others cut off almost instantly when the bomb went off.

[Previous Post]

---

BOOM.

Ilana Mhori blinked, utterly stupefied. The cigarette she'd been dragging slowly on while watching her partner home in carefully on the bomb ... had vanished. It was gone. It was fucking gone. 'Am I... dead?' the Huntress mused. She rubbed her eyes, which were there, with her hands that were, in fact, also there. 'No... I... I think, therefore I... am, ...right?' she figured.

So, she took the next couple moments to recollect the chain of events. Because if ghost were real, and had a mind for thinking, then surely being able to think wasn't complete proof that she wasn't a goner.

Right?

---

---

"The fuck!?" Ilana and Ethan exclaimed aloud, realizing that there were worse things than death.

Maeve and Kiara

What do you mean there are bombs in the ship? Maeve hissed as she shouldered her way through the crowd towards Kiara. Just as she was starting to enjoy the power she had over people who enjoyed manipulating others, she was taken away to go save the same lives of the people she wanted to destroy. Bomb. Noun. Something that creates a big explosion that kills people! Maeve rolled her eyes as she got closer. "Very funny. Remind me to get you back for this after the bombs are all defused." Kiara smirked. "For saving lives? I thought that's why you were in this from the beginning?" "Oh hardy, har har. Lets just find this bomb before I decide to throw all the Asylums and children off the boat and let the rest of them die."

Kiara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought you wanted to kill all of them?" Maeve looked away, muttering. "Some of them are still innocent." With a smile, her dark clad companion started walking away. "Where are you going?" "Too the bedrooms on this ship. Someone's already checking the engine room. They're the next logical location. Quite the number of them and lots of hiding places in all of them." Maeve huffed in irritation as she followed. "And how exactly are we going to find them? There has to be at least fifty on this damn opulent ship." "Why don't you ask your gods to aid us? It'd certainly streamline things." Kiara flashed a smile over her shoulder as they entered the living quarters section of the ship. Maeve glared before closing her eyes and drawing upon her alchemy. " Cernunnos, cabhrú liom fhiach síos an buama agus a shábháil ar na innocents agus a dtuismitheoirí olc."

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s here. But my alchemy can’t tell where.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that we have to search fifty fucking rooms the old fashioned way.”

“Hmm. Not entirely the old fashioned way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you create constructs, probably hounds because you’re obsessed with Celtic mythology, and I create constructs, we’ll just send them to the rooms, and whichever ones enter the room and are immediately destroyed, we know that’s the bomb!”

“First one to find it buys drinks?”

“You’re on.”

With that, 25 small formless shadow creatures and twenty five golden hounds raced down the halls of the ship’s living area, racing and tripping each other as they did so. It didn’t take long for a winner to be found.

“Hah! I win!” Kiara did a small victory dance. Maeve looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Was that the Rocky, ‘I just ran up the stairs or Mountains/won the fight move?” “..Yes?” “Do you watch anything from this day and age?” Kiara folded her arms defensively. “It’s not my fault most modern films are terrible.”

They continued towards the one room that had destroyed the shadow creature, arguing about movies and how they were better or worse now. This invariably lead into music, literature, fashion, and video games. “I’ll teach you proper movie edicate on everything modern after we find this bomb.”

Kiara chuckled, stepping aside with a sweeping bow. It didn't take long, with Maeve's alchemy guiding them as surely as if they had placed the bomb themselves. They entered the opulent room and paused for a moment. There was a 75 inch flat screen, a king sized bed, ebony dressers, a full length mirror trimmed with gold. And that was without even checking the bathroom. "Jesus. The Peralta's really are insecure about something aren't they?"

Kiara didn’t bother gawking. She was used to this, had lived in it in fact. “There’s been two bombs found already, one in the engine and one in the bathroom, of all places,. We’re slacking.”

“Ten bucks says it’s under the bed.”

“You’re on.”

Maeve took two steps, reached under the bed, and drug out a clear case with vials in it and a ticking bomb. “Damn it.” “Hah! I win.”

Kiara bit her thumb, drawing a sigil on the ground. A shield bubbled around the room. “There. Now if things go south we’ll be the only casualties.”

“Alright. Now how do we-” Maeve’s question was suddenly cut off by a hissing noise as the bomb went off, filling gas into the room.

Maeve and Kiara both stumbled backwards, Kiara’s foot erasing her sigil. The two Bean Sidhes held their heads, struggling with what was going through their heads. Maeve rose up, her skin flushed. ”Fuck.” She needed to find someone. Now. Only everyone hated her on this ship or was straight. “Not everyone….” She muttered, thinking back to the Air Jew. Without another word, she shoved through the door, heading towards where she had last seen Illana.

Kiara was sitting on the bed, hands gripping her skull as she rocked back and forth, a female voice pounding in her skull.

“Weak.”

“Weak.”

“Weak!”

“WEAK!”

“WEAK!”

Whatever Maeve had been feeling was smashed away by the pain going through her skull as she tried to fight off the attack on her mind.

Midnight Sun

“Who the hell are they?” Keith muttered as he looked at the man yelling at them as they approached the ship

“More of those friends you said I should get to know.” AJ said sarcastically as he hinted back to their earlier conversation before moving their conversation telepathically. 'The female looks familiar. I believe we shared a few classes together during my stay at Innocence but then again I don't keep track who all were my classmates back then. I think her name is Mia or May or something like that but this is the first time I came across the male. I would have remembered an idiot such as him' A slight smirk crept on AJ's face as he watched the young Chrono start to pull the ship down into the water. The brat might be annoying but seeing what she could accomplish he knew she rightfully held that position and if she were going to take down the bloodlines, that worked wonderfully for him.

'You better not be enjoying that too much. You are watching our mission sink and wouldn't that tarnish the record you are trying to keep in order?' Raising his eyebrows, Keith gave a glance towards his partner as he watched the Chrono and her partner start to work out a deal to stop her actions.

'So?'

'There are people on the ship. You might have something against your own family but what about the rest of them? Do you not care if they die too?'

'People die every day. Does it really matter if it's today by the hands of the Chrono or later on due to a messy war between the bloodlines?' There was a slight shrug from AJ as he and Keith made their way onto the ship.

'Do they really deserve it? Do the children and others deserve a death such as this? Crushed and drowned when it wasn't even their fault but a person of our own initiating this. Where's the justice in that?' The two made their way towards the far side of the room and between AJ's distaste towards the bloodlines and Keith not knowing any of them, the two stuck together and watched everyone mingling.

'At least it would be less messy this way. For once I would be able to keep my clothing clean during a mission with the lack of blood splattering everywhere or other contaminates.' AJ chimed in as he glared towards Dante. The man hasn't looked towards him yet but AJ knew that his presence would have been known. 'Politically too if you are worried about this whole justice thing.' AJ scoffed and rolled his eyes.

'Just keep your distaste towards the Bloodlines between us. Things are already going to be tense between the Asylums and the Bloodlines and we don't want to add your bitchiness to make things worse.'

'I'm here to do my job. As long as they know their place we won't have an issue but you better not have any issues using force if it comes down to it. Even the children shouldn't be trusted when it comes to bloodlines. They are not like normal brats so you better not go soft on them like you did with that one brat four months ago'

'Are you still trying to bring that up? Seriously, you need to le-' Before Keith could finish his remark the notice of the bomb present was sent out and giving a slight nod towards his partner, the two headed out.

'Understood.' AJ said to the others

'We will head to the top deck to search for one. Keep us updated on anything you learn from these bombs.' Keith added. “It's go time.” There was a bit of excitement in Keith's voice as they worked their way towards the door.


'Shut up. We don't want to attract anyone's attention'.

'If they have any sort of ability to observe outside their self centered little bubbles I think that might be too late.' Keith mentioned with a shrug as the two walked down a hallway towards the stairs.

'Hmm?'

'When I was on the force you wouldn't send most of your security out just to make rounds during some sort of charity event or gatherings of the people of wealth or power. There is power in numbers and just our presence would keep many situations contained. Unless there was a situation brewing I doubt this would change in a situation where we are babysitting the bloodlines even if the two that are staying is a Chrono and her partner. Sure, those two might keep the bloodlines distracted if the bloodlines don't keep each other busy but I'm quite certain that our absence will be noted by at least a few.'

'Well let's hope the feuds are messy enough that they will stay occupied until things are settled.'

Apate and Dolos

"Nope nope, he ain't stealing my soul", Dolos thought as his face lay buried in his palms. In the world of rogues the Asylums were the subject of many tales of varying interpretation, some thought them emissaries of justice where as others considered them demonic entities. Often alchemists would grow up with Asylums being the boogyman of their childhood, for Dolos this was a little literal. The Queen Anne heir had strongly convinced himself that Asylums were actually soul devouring monsters disguised as humans.

"Dolos." Apate said in a hushed whisper, the voice coming from behind her brother. The sound of concern, if not fear was present in Apate voice which was unusual for the girl.

"I told you not to look at him, my dear sister your soul...your poor soul!" Dolos replied, his voice muffled by the trembling palms that covered his face still. "You maybe suffering endlessly, but I swear I will uphold the duties of the Patriarch well once our father meets his demise!" Dolos continued on, his fingers splitting so that he may take a peek at what fate decreed for his sister.

"Are you sure?" The face of Angel met the boy's gaze he peeked out. A malicious smirk crept onto the face as he lowered his spectacles to reveal the man's eyes. Not only was the iris matching the color of his vest, the sclera and pupil were blood red as he started deeply at the boy. As the smirk grew wider it was obvious that his teeth were not human teeth but something meant for more harm given the jagged features. "How will you become the next Patriarch if this is your last voyage out on the waters?"

“What the mother fu-“ With that fragmented sentence, Dolos found himself losing his sense of balance and tumbling down. To say he was merely surprised by Angel’s sudden appearance would be an understatement, Dolos found himself in a state of panic. His own eyes slowly widened as he watched the Lost Number lower his silver spectacles revealing a set of crimson irises. “Shit… too late!” The boy thought, his reflexes betraying him and in a haphazard attempt to lift his arms to protect him from Angel’s soul devouring gaze, he found himself tipping backwards and crashing head first onto the floor. It would only be after a few minutes that the heir would regain consciousness.

“Wooow. Such a brave guy.” Angel said sarcastically with a chuckle, his voice slowly growing higher in pitch as the seconds ticked by. “And here I thought you might have a chance at being the next Patriarch if something were to happen to me brother dearest.” The figure said as it crouched down towards Dolos. It didn't take long before the illusion Apate set up for her brother started to dissipate and the girl was back to her former appearance. “You make this too easy." The girl mumbled as she searched his pockets for anything easy to steal and settled on a few smoke bombs and a knife he had and pocketed it for herself. As she did so she could hear annoying voice of Antonia off in the distance mentioning her and her brother's name

"Oh great, the brat is heading back." Apate sighed as she gave her brother a shake. "Quit your snoozing brother dearest. We have some company approaching."

"I won't go down without a fight!" Dolos suddenly screamed, awakened from a nightmarish slumber, his palms stretched forward towards the direction of Apate and the children. In mere seconds a sudden burst of air pressure appeared to form and shoot out towards the lot, dousing them in steam and shredding parts of their clothing.

"Where am I, what is going on, why do you all look like that?" Dolos barraged them with questions as his eyes darted about for any signs of imminent danger. Amusingly however what irked the boy even more was the state of their dressing, particularly his sisters'. "Have ye no shame sister, there are better ways to attract the males," the boy admonished Apate while nursing the bruise on his head

"Are you sure? I've heard that males are more visu-" Apate started to say before remembering her new audience. Although the children of the other bloodlines were fun to pester, teaching the young kids about unholy acts and thoughts especially with one of the Palladinos present had the potential of repercussions of having annoying mothers hounding down on them. "Don't act like it was my fault brother dearest. You are the one who thought he was attacking imaginary monsters and blasted us instead."

"This was your doing wasn't it," Dolos accused his sister as he gently massaged his forehead before continuing her scolding. "Aren't you supposed to be next in line, maybe focus on being responsible rather than playing pranks on your brother, especially when he was so worried about having your soul devoured by a monster." Despite his words, his tone revealed disappointment at the realization that his sister's soul was not being shredded and tortured for all eternity. Back to second place the boy thought as he snapped his fingers at the loss of an ideal opportunity.

"Now what fun would it be if I was a boring stiff like one of them?" Apate snickered as she gestured towards the patriarchs and other adults. "Do you want me to act more like boring old Irene? Sometimes it's a wonder that I'm actually the same age as the royal babysitter." She continued as she took a glance towards Antonia to gauge her reaction. Although Apate knew that the young girl was the mischievous one out of the bunch, she could see that her loyalties were not affected as Antonia almost blurted out a defense for her sister but held off at the last moment. It was a shame. She was hoping that the young Palladino could be a way to gain some control over the family or cause a bit of mischief within the family. Maybe with a bit more work and influence with the girl she could accomplish that. "I don't think you could last even a day with me if I was a bore."

"Aye, you have a point there dear sister. You would be quite the bore if you weren't the occasional nuisance." Dolos nodded as he agreed with his sister, a grin on his face as he watched her discreetly irk the Pallidinios. In fact it is their mischievous nature that gained the Queen Anne siblings their notorious fame, despite being teenagers the kids have caused more than a couple of problems for other Bloodlines.

"Sister have you noticed we are missing a few of our esteemed Asylum friends?" The boy suddenly inquired as his eyes scanned the room for discrepancy, his curiosity being peeked at observing certain Asylums discreetly disappearing. "Why don't we follow those two?" Dolos whispered as he gestured towards the Asylums, AJ and Keith.

"Hmm, that is quite interesting. I wonder what sort of fun they are trying to hide from us all." Apate said, nodding in agreement to her brother's plan. "It looks like your friends are coming to join you kiddo. It might be best if you stay here." Apate said giving a slight nod towards the two young Kains making their way towards them. Ruffling the young girl's hair as she passed Antonia, Apate left the girl to follow the two Asylums before she could make an objection. "I wonder what they are up to brother dearest."

"I suppose we will just have to find out," Dolos replied as a fiendish grin spread across his face. From observing the general direction of their movement it seemed the Asylums were planning to go to the upper deck. "I suggest we beat them there, hide and wait to see what they are up to." The brother spoke, scheming as he and his sister began to take an alternate route.

Midnight Sun

'Are you certain that this is where we should look?' AJ sighed as they continued searching the upper deck. 'We've already looked at half this deck and we've found nothing.' They were wasting time. He wasn't sure how long they had until the bomb would go off and instead of using this time to defuse it they were busy wasting time looking in the wrong area.

“Just a bit more.” Keith said as the two made their way towards the miniature golf course. 'If you were more cautious and didn't let Poe get destroyed during our last mission the search would have gone more smoothly.' “But no, you had to be an idiot and now it's stuck with Cams until he fixes it.” The man scoffed aloud as he searched around and in the decorations as AJ continued down the course. That was one thing that bothered Keith. Although they were able to get their work done in the end, the cohesion he had back on the force with is old partner was missing with AJ. He and his partner were closer connected and were more in sync even without the telepathic link. Dan wouldn't have questioned his judgement as AJ continually has done.

"Oh, so it's now my fault." AJ mumbled, turning back long enough to glare at his partner before he continued his search. 'If you followed the plan as we discussed there would be no need for me to intervene but instead you decide to do whatever the hell you feel like doing which led us to the mess in the first place.'

"But my plan worked, didn't it? I wasn't running blindly without an idea brewing in my head. You got that AJ?" Turning around towards his partner, the younger man was out of sight and he was about to call out for him before he noticed that man was crouched down besides one of the decorations next to the 18th hole.

"We found it." AJ said as he sat up and looked at Keith. The tensions between the two immediately dissipated as both focused on that bomb. Although bickering was common between the two, neither allowed their disagreements get in the way of their work which was something AJ was glad about. He was a pain to deal with and AJ would have much preferred being an unlinked that working with this man as he planned and was preparing for during his time at Innocence but at least he got the job done. "Did you pull up any information up about it on the TASER?"

"Working on it." Keith said as he worked on searching AMRO's database. Bombs were neither one's forte but at least they had a resource to depend on.

"Can we move it? Let's not waste any time and just get it off the ship." AJ muttered as he took a glance around them. He thought he heard someone off in the distance but when he looked there was nothing to be seen. 'We might have company so we need to get this figured out ASAP.'

"I'm not sure what sort of sensors and shit this thing is hooked up to. If we move it, it might go off but the whole bomb is encased to keep it protected from the elements so the wiring that we need to access is going to be a pain. If we try to open it and it's pressurized..."

"Boom." AJ said as he looked towards his partner.

"Unfortunately." Keith said as he closed up the pen and shoved it back into a pocket. 'Covering it and moving it off the ship might be the best option.' With a nod of agreement from his partner, Keith used the sand that was part of the golf course to encase the bomb. "Part one down." Keith muttered as he slowly lifted the bomb, making sure to keep it leveled.

"Okay, it's high enough to get over the railing. All you need to do now is move it straight off." AJ said guiding his partner. As the direction changed a small tick was heard and Keith stopped moving the bomb. "Keith, did you hear tha-"

Before AJ could get the chance to get a barrier up the bomb went off. Sand covered the two of them and a gaseous substance engulfed them.

"Shit." Keith yelled out in frustration as he turned around and looked at his partner.

Jim Dancer kicked open the door and clapped his hands.

"All right, everyone out! AMRO orders, nobody comes back 'till I say so!"

The shout resounded through the bridge, and sent technicians scurrying as the towering Asylum strode forwards, heading directly for the man who seemed to be in charge. "You the captain? I want neither the crew nor any of those Bloodline prats coming near us, got it?"

The man's eyes widened in fright, but he stood firm. "Is something wrong? If there's a threat, I should alert the passengers immediately-"

Dancer cut him off with a wave. "Nothing's the matter, just a security inspection. AMRO wants to make sure we don't get any morons trying something. I won't take long, and you can have your ship back afterwards..." His eyes narrowed. "So long as nobody gets in my way."

With a quick nod, the captain scampered off to join his fellows. Perhaps there were doubts left in his mind, but you didn't argue with an Asylum- particularly not one who looked like he could crush your skull with one hand.

Withing seconds, the room was clear, and Dancer breathed out, glancing around as if searching for something. A moment later, Maya Song appeared out of thin air in front of him. That was more polite than usual.

Dancer scowled. Try as he might, he still had trouble tracking her when she went invisible. Can't scare the fuckers too much. They were pissing their pants already, and the Bloodlines'd notice if they panicked.

Nice to know you have some sense of responsibility. Song turned around, her eyes sweeping over the bridge. I'm not picking up anything yet.

Has to be one in here, they wouldn't just miss the bridge. You blow a hole in the side of the ship, the damn thing can take minutes or hours to sink, and everyone on board gets a lifeboat or a helicopter to bail them out. But if you take out the controls- the ship can't steer away from hazards. Can't radio for help. Can't stop all the passengers from panicking. Add an EMP to that and you've got a fucking deathtrap.

And how is it that you're suddenly an expert on maritime explosive placement?

You don't do mercenary work for as long as I did without blowing up a few boats. Now come on, do your bloody Sniffer thing and get this over with.

With a barely audible hmph, Maya looked around, taking in her surroundings. There weren't many places one could hide an explosive, up here. Open space, well-lit, and all the monitors and switches were mostly built into the room, difficult to take apart and stick something inside. A few laptops and coffee mugs had been left behind, but nothing evident as a hiding place. Nothing could be ruled out, of course, but it was most likely to be somewhere out of sight and relatively easy to access...

The chairs. Check the chairs for stitches.

Dancer gave her a silent nod, quickly moving towards the nearest one. They were good seats, well-cushioned for those who would be stuck in them for hours. Easy enough for someone to slit open some of that cushioning and slide a device in, behind too much padding to easily feel.

He leaned in, looking carefully over the soft black surface which still bore the imprint of some sailor's ass. His hand swept over it, feeling for any unevenness. Then the back, then the headrest. Then onto the next chair, where after a few seconds he stopped, and gestured at Song. She threw him a knife, which he caught with one hand, and carefully cut into the chair, slicing through the almost invisible line of stitches where the faux-leather had been cut open and repaired. With the incision made, he slowly stuck his fingers in, and pulled apart the edges, peering inside.

It's small. Not an explosive device. This better not be a fucking neurotoxin...

There was a sudden click in front of him, followed by a slow hiss. The two Asylums glanced at each other. No need for any mental communication here, they both knew what this meant.

Song pulled up the collar of her coat, covering her mouth and nose while squeezing her eyes shut, while Dancer muttered to himself, and incantation to protect his insides against whatever the bomb had just released. But this was no mere airborne toxin.

Well, that was unexpected. Any idea what this-

"Song?"

We shouldn't talk, you never know who might be-

"Song, I want you to know... I've always hated you less than I should."

That hit her hard. Too hard. Her eyes grew watery as she stammered, surprised. "Dancer, I... is that really how you feel about me?"

"Damn it, I'm fucking sorry, but I just can't help it! From the moment I set my goddamn eyes on you, I just couldn't hate you like I despise all the other dumb fucks who call themselves alchemists. They're all bastards, and you're a bitch too- but less of a bitch than you could be." He breathed in, steadying himself. "And if this all ends here... or wherever this all ends... I just want you to know that those stupid missions we did, all the bullshit we dealt with together, even working with the shitheads at AMRO... it was almost worth it, just to work with you. Almost."

"Oh, Jim!" Song mumbled through her tears, "I... I hate you too. After all we've been through, you still can't pay me a... fucking compliment!"

"I'm not sorry."

Sobbing, they fell into each other's arms, and tried to strangle each other.

Everything became a mess of water, sound and alchemy when the bomb went off, drenching both men in a liquid best left where it originated. Thankfully, much to their relief, the metal walls muffled the sound. Instead of an ear deafening sound, it allowed only the slightest tremor to vibrate outside the restroom and throughout the ship. It was doubtful but with any luck, the bloodlines wouldn’t draw attention to it or the fact it originated from within a public restroom. At least for now.

This matter, however, wasn’t true for Samad and Cade.

Samad was sitting, exhausted, upon the closed lid. The bowl’s upper lip was blackened from the explosion and the metal extremely dented in several areas showing that he had used the bowl to isolate the result, mostly. Water continued to run along the surface to the floor as it collected nearby his shoes, the back of his pant legs getting more wet than the rest of him. His torso was hunched over with his head cradled in his hands, and nausea rippled through his figure like a twisting, living thing in his stomach. On the verge of vomiting his leftover lunch, Samad felt his chest hurt from the rattling of his endless heart. It thumped with the speed of a V-8 engine. Each beat felt like it was about a milion miles per hour and he was sure it would burst from his body. His lungs fared no better, his breathing short and rapid with each inhale as if he was out of breathe though he hadn’t moved at all from his stationary position. Sweat glided across his skin making it hot and cold to the touch, trying to cool off his internal body temperature but it was failing.

Abruptly, his right arm whipped out and slammed a fist against the stall with surprising power. In sheer fortune, the alchemy pushed into his movement was hampered by his mind’s watered down focus. So there was little damaged from his outburst and virtually no evidence upon the stall wall. Even the sting in his hand hadn’t been as painful as Samad expected, his arm retracted to allow him to examine his hand idly. The outline was warped and twisted, becoming hazy in his vision with each movement. Samad’s eyes widened in surprise causing his head to shift upward and away when his nausea clenched at his stomach again.

His vision shifted to spy Cade’s condition. Samad knew something was wrong, he knew the bomb didn't go off and react like a normal one. Namely because there was gas that spilt all over the pace followed by the bomb. Now that it had cleared, Samad felt strange and out of place.

His eyes noticed that Cade was laying against the door, flat on his back and gradually coming to. The explosion, minor as it had been, had managed to knock the younger Asylum upon his ass and he immediately fell to his back. Water seeped into his usually tidy shirt and pants as he groaned in pain. Gradually, Cade’s torso twisted about to pull himself off the floor. For a moment he thought he had died and it sent a sickening, terrible dread to flood his mind. Instinctively he took account of his well being.

His body was cold, almost like ice, causing him to shiver more and his right foot reached over to pull himself upright. The shoe pressed down then skidded out from under him. His face immediately met the tile as he smacked the surface hard, each second seemingly to take minutes to happen but he couldn’t stop it. Even the pain felt surreal. The air itself wrapped about him, sealing him in some thick, plastic substance he couldn’t see, touch or affect. Unable to get up, Cade just laid there trying to collect his focus. His body curled into a ball and gingerly pressed his fingers to his now bleeding nose. The red dripping down his busted lip to stain his shirt.

”Cade…” Samad began to speak again, struggling not to vomit in mid-sentence.

”What?” Cade answered quietly. His hand came away red and wiped it on his chest when he flopped onto his back, breathing slowly to prevent the anxiety attack creeping up on him. His arms and legs fell into a spread eagle style as he was too fucked up to get to his feet. It was best to remain down upon his back or he was going to keep getting hurt.

”Cade….” Samad repeated himself, trying to think, and finally tossed the words up. ”What the fuck…happened?”

”There was something...something funny about that bomb. I’m...we’re fucked up, Sam.” Cade commented with a certainty unlike normal, feeling the blood trickle into the back of his throat. He didn’t feel like applying his alchemy, his mind altering his ability to think clearly and merely made him giggle slightly. Despite the lacking pain, he felt like he would be perfectly fine just not healing.

“Asshole, it’s not funny.” Samad spat, irritated at Cade’s lighthearted tone with the situation.

Samad’s leg bounced in place while he continued to sit on the toilet lid, his energy building up enough that it made him restless. With cautious effort, the older Asylum braced himself against the stall wall. His feet shifted to get under him and push him to stand up, his outstretched arm using the wall to guide him toward the doctor. He paused long enough to release his stomach contents at the first urinal then move forward again. The sour taste in the back of his throat, Samad used his sleeve to wipe away the vomit.

“Cade...Cade come on, we have to...fuck what is that word?” Samad asked, his fingers rubbing his temple as he tried to recollect what it was that they were suppose to do.

Samad reached down a hand for Cade to grip, his partner idly spacing out causing the Iranian to snap again. “Quite being a little shit and get up!”

Cade just gave him a goofy smile, his blond hair plastered to his head as he shook it no. Samad glared at Cade and tried not to dry heave when the world started to become a mixture of colors, shapes and worse, all around him. His legs spread out to try to balance himself only to feel his legs spreading too far into opposite directions. He cried out in both pain and surprise, quickly leaning to one side then going down onto one knee promptly, hitting hard into the tile while he fell onto all fours. Again, the room spun. The motion itself brought him down to lay upon his side against the wall and slowly breathe through the intense headache coming on.

Samad made a silent promise. If he ever, EVER found the shithead that created those bombs… he was personally going to strangle them.

Maeve shoved her way past the crowds, thanking the gods that they were all afraid of her. She thought she had seen Illana hanging around the bathrooms. Regardless if she had or not, it was a good place to start. The door of the bathrooms slammed open and Maeve groaned in disappointment and frustration. “Damn it. I don’t need you two pricks.” She strode quickly over to the two of them, laying on the ground. Samad appeared to be in pain, while Cade was enjoying himself. “Alright. Which of you know where Illana went? Or any female willing to sleep with me because she wants to not because I scare her because I’m a godsdamned Asylum, dog of AMRO and blah, blah blah.”
“Who are you calling a prick?” Samad snapped when he noted Maeve in the room for the first time. She had been there, even opened the door, but he hadn’t realized she was actually there until she spoke. His mood was already twisting into irritation while he tried to hoist himself upright. Samad’s knees were wobbly as his hand slipped from underneath him and nearly plowed his face into the tile.

Cade’s mouth was drier than a desert as he tried to focus. Gingerly his body managed to turn upon his side and that was it, he no longer wanted to put forth any more effort into the task. Personally he was comfortable right here and it wasn’t so bad to merely stay laying down. “Teehee...Asylum dog.”

“Just shut the fuck up Cade. You fucked this up to begin with!” Samad barked at his partner then turned to Maeve. “All I know is the bomb went off, we’re feeling fucked up and now we need help getting the hell out of here. Now you can help or leave and go chase some lesbian tail elsewhere. Keep in mind, I’m pretty sure there’s still some undiscovered bombs out there and shouldn’t we be trying to find them?”

“You. The guy lying on the ground. And your high friend. Pricks.” Maeve spoke absent mindly, wondering if there were any of the Asylum teams left with women who would sleep with her. Then it finally forced it’s way through her mind the situation they were in. “Fuck.” She spat. “Fine. I’ll help you get up. But you help me get laid later.” She walked over to Samad, hauling him up on his feet.“Your friend we’re gonna need something stronger.. Like a cold shower.”

”After calling us pricks, I’ll debate on that.” Samad stated, taking the hand and came wobbly upright. His other hand reached, twice, for his cane then used it to support his leg. Already the pain was returning as he looked at his leg, debating if he had flared up an old wound again.

Maeve blinked her eyes in innocent confusion. “Are you women? If not, you have pricks and thus you are pricks. Really, it’s simple logic.”

His vision danced as it seemed things’ outlines were doubled then were made solid with each movement, killing his sense of depth radically. Samad’s grip tightened over Maeve’s support as his head turned to Cade. His partner was still giggling and smiling stupidly, causing the Persian to deeply frown. “Cade, focus. Get Up. Now.”

“Can’t, tried… My legs… hahaa, they feel all jello-y!” Cade popped out and tried to rise, only to fall back down. His eyes seeming distracted by something random floating through the air.

“Fuck...If I ever get my hands on the shit stain that did this… I’m going to rip him a new ass.” Samad commented in his moodiness. “Don’t you have a partner that could help?”

Maeve paused for a moment, something tickling at the back of her mind. Something bad. “Shit! She’s in room 127. Go get her. I’ll take care of your higher than a kite friend, and you just make sure to hustle her as fast as possible towards me if her she starts saying weird genocidal things and her eyes flash white. If I go out there, I’ll be distracted by all the pieces of ass flashing about. You, however, won’t be.” She made a shooing motion. Go on, I’ll take care of him. He’s not my type.”

“Little issue with that… I can barely stand upright, let alone see straight.” Samad said, his fingers tightening about his cane and using it to support him upright. He barely managed to keep himself upright through it wasn’t impossible to make it, he assumed when the through brushed by his mind.

“And here I thought that Kian’s were tougher than this.” Maeve grumbled.

“And I thought Asylums didn’t trust others besides their partners? At least the good ones.” Samad snapped back.

Maeve chuckled grimly. “Trust me. You couldn’t hurt her if she’s as bad as the symptoms I gave you. Besides. I’m not like the crazy toddler or her psycho keeper. I won’t stab your friend, you won’t rape mine, we’ll all be fine. You have my word. Is é mo focal mo banna. My word is my bond. Go. I’ll take care of your friend.”

Samad just growled in frustration. His hand leaned heavily against his sword cane while he used his other hand used the wall to guide him, honestly not sure where to start. The corridor was twisting and warping in his vision as he swallowed the dry heaves edging to his throat. It seemed to take forever to reach the place indicated by Maeve, his voice muttering numerous insults about the whore being anything but a woman. He slowly edged into the room. “Hello, are you there?”

Carefully, he edged deeper into the room as his cane lead the way.

Kiara sat rocking on the bed, hands clasped tightly to her head. The voice was still pounding away, trying to break through her defenses.WEAK! the voice howled, slamming against her mind again. She bit back a cry of pain, barely hearing someone call out.

“Stay away! Leave! I don’t want to-argh!” She cried out as the voice slammed into her again. WEAK!

Samad wasn’t an idiot and knew when someone was mentally struggling against something, or one, coming uninvited into the mind. He was taught it when he was about seven, a year before he became ARMO’s dog, and that training was continued into the future with less gentle methods. Inhaling shortly, he pushed himself toward the young woman and touched her gently. “Breathe, slowly. Think of a wall boxing in your most important aspect of your mind. Visualize it and your thoughts will withdraw into a group, hidden behind a wall for your first line of defense.”

Kiara’s clothing flashed white briefly. ”Kian.” She hissed. ”I killed the last fools who attacked my fa-NO. YOU ARE WEAK. YOU WILL NO-- This. Is. My. Body. You. Are. Unwelcome. You will not kill another!” Kiara began to build the wall Samad spoke of, attempting to ignore the howling voice.

The older asylum didn’t react to her display, either she would hear and listen or she would break. This method was a common practice in his family and one he showed without prejudice to anyone he considered in need of help and a lesson in real life. It wasn’t kind ever without a reason to break you.

“Breathe, in and out. Now, make a crack or door. Edge out and build another wall, brick by brick. If you sense pressure, pull back and wait then try again.” Samad continued in a surprisingly calm and firm voice, void of his usual coldness. However, he was still frowning over her uncalled for aggression.

Kiara breathed in and out, listening to his words. Brick by brick, bit by bit, she began to craft her walls. Occasionally she would lose control and flash white, ranting about the deaths she would visit upon him, his family, and AMRO. Bit by bit, she beat back the voice in her skull.

Her words were starting to grit on his unusually thin patience, his eyes closed to focus himself to push them away. It wasn’t easy with his drug induced mood and for a moment, he considered pulling out his sword and ending it. The only difficult thing was proving it wasn’t him that had murdered and not having ARMO on his ass or worse, Maeve not killing his own partner. He survived the link break once, but he doubted it was possible a second time. Making himself play nice, Samad tried to reach out to Cade through their link.

That action was about as helpful as punching a brick wall with his bare hand, the silence almost as painful. Cade wasn’t going to be of any use to him now. Not in the state he had left him and that made him grit his teeth when he leaned into her. His forehead touched her skin, providing a base to reality then a focus point to draw from. His hand gripped her arm to steady his balance by using her to ground him.

It was times like this he missed Elisa. Her face seeped into his mind and replaced the cursing, threatening Peralta bitch in front of him. Pushing himself into the emotions swirling around his mind in order to sooth his pain, Samad let them fill his next words when he spoke. “Come on, you can do it. This is your mind, not theirs. It’s you who hold the power there and it’s your realm. So show them who’s the real threat and why fucking with you was the worst mistake they ever made.”

Kiara slowly beat back the voice in her head, breathing slower and rocking back and forth less as the howling, screeching, voice slipped back deep into her mind. She finally stilled, opening her eyes to see the man gripping her arm. “Thank you.” She spoke softly, leaning back slightly.

“Did she hurt you? Do anything? I imagine she shouted hateful things. You’re a Kian after all. I apologize for if she said anything hurtful or actually hurt you.”

Samad blinked, his eyes stinging and Kiara’s words were lost in the image that filled his vision at the moment. His mind was already starting to play tricks while Elisa emerged in her place, his mind trying to piece together when it had happened and how he could’ve missed it. His hand tightened briefly only to completely release and stepped back in surprise. Samad’s skin was pale from seeing a ghost from his past, his head trying to shake the image loose while he turned away.

“It’s...it’s alright. I stopped feeling hurt or anything when I became ARMO’s dog, so it’s no big deal. And I was an Kian, I’m not now. Just like you’re no longer a Peralta.” He said, not looking at her.

Kiara shifted uncomfortably, the feeling she felt before returning as the pain left. “It doesn’t matter to her. The fact you’re a dog of AMRO only makes it worse.” A pretty one too… She shook her head to shake the thought. “How did you find me? Only Maeve and I were in here when we found the bomb.”

“And what are you? Last I checked, you weren’t exactly free. Maeve rushed into the bathroom looking for some female to bed, ended up finding my partner and me in the bathroom. We had just finished up disarming a bomb which-” Samad felt the room spin again. His hand tightened against the cane but it didn’t seem to help him retain his balance as he crumbled to one knee, his right hand rushed to stop anything from rushing forward onto the floor. Damn it, he screamed in his head then tried to rise a bit only to fall back down to one knee.

“Shit… I’m not fully sure what the hell it did, but I’m fucked up because of it. I have to get back to Cade before his current stupidity gets on your partner’s nerves and she leaves him to drown in the two inches water covering the restroom’s floor. I doubt I’ll live through his death, like I did yours.”

“Did she give her word? If she did, she won’t abandon him. Not even if he tried to kill her.” Kiara got up, going over to Samad’s side and helping him up. Kiara frowned, looking at Samad. “I’m not dead though. We’ve never been partners. What are you…” She trailed off, looking at Samad’s eyes. In a heartbeat all her well thought out plans and ideas to get back with Maeve and find out what was going on were swept away in a rush of lust. Without thinking, she pressed herself against Samad, kissing him.

Samad shuddered, his mind numbed by the kiss. His lips pressed against whom he thought was Elisa, his mind filling in the gaps and slowly he started to return it. Hands pressed against the curves while he pulled back toward the bed. His legs crumbling underneath himself and pulling Kiara over his hips, letting her straddle him. Her scent, soft skin and everything filled his senses as he gave into his baser desire, his mind focused on nothing but the woman he had long ago lost and thought was gotten over.

Samad’s eyes scrunched tightly, his head shifted as his mind started to clear. The first thing that came to his mind was the weight across his arm causing him to raise his head, narrowing his eyes upon the source. It was naked woman of alabaster skin and his scent all over her. Abruptly he shuffled upright in the bed with a wide eye look as he gritted his teeth and yelping deeply in his throat. The sheets collected at his waist but still managed to cover Kiara completely.

Kiara’s eyes snapped open as soon as she felt someone moving next to her. She took one moment to assess her situation. “Well. Shit.” She sat up, shameless in front of the man she just had sex with. “I suppose we’d best start getting dressed. We never had sex, I presume? That’s the story at any rate. Hopefully Lucas doesn’t have hidden cameras in here.”She slipped past Samad, gathering her clothes and glaring at her shadow. “Shut up Eric, it’s not like I willfully chose to have sex with him. We’re not even in families anymore.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he did. As for it never, it does it matter? Either way, I’m not volunteering information if you don’t and I doubt anyone will give a shit.” Samad uttered, his body leaning into the covers still shifted about his middle. His eyes passed over her bare figure and allowed her to get dress first like a gentleman. He inhaled, no longer in shock over his recent ‘sin’, while he stretched out.

Casually he twisted his legs over the edge, pressing his heels into the floor and stood upright. He let the sheet fall back upon the bed then reached down for his slacks, shirt, socks and shoes. After he pulled on his pants, his right leg seemed to chose now to start hurting causing him to slump back onto the bed. “Stupid leg acting up again.”

He started to rub the knee gently, hoping to ease the ache budding.

Kiara looked at him over her shoulder, smirking. “I don’t give a shit. But from how you were reacting before I lost control of my hormones you seemed to care quite a bit.” She frowned as she watched him rub his knee. “Can’t you just use Alchemy to heal that? Unless you’re like Maeve and are leaving it around for sentimental reasons. For the love of Christ shut up Eric. We’re perfectly fine. She’s not gonna escape again.” She had finished putting on her clothes and was securing her weaponry, both parts of E.L.G going beneath her cloak while the pistol disappeared on her hip.

“ Considering you talk to yourself, I can see why.” Samad stated bluntly as he noted the shadow move in an odd way. He assumed she was moving it on her own while he heard her talk about his wound, his hand still rubbing it a few moments longer. “Really? I’ve been able to do alchemy since I was eight, don’t you think that’s the first thought that occurred to me? I’m not like Cade who actively avoids using alchemy. We’re all going to take a dive off the deep end, why bother fighting it when you can accept it and move on.”

Samad then rose and slipped upon his belly, his golden eyes looked under the bolted down bed. His head turned to seek out his weapons which had fallen under the bed.

“Fatalistic and sarcastic. I think we’ll get along just fine.” Kiara chuckled softly. “Everyone talks to themselves. And if you mean Eric, I’m talking to him not myself. If you’re looking for a bomb, it’s already gone off. It’s why Maeve is so horny and I was so horny.” She raised an eyebrow. “An itch you barely scratched I might add.” Eric zoomed over and looked suspiciously at Samad. As suspiciously as a shadow could at least. “Eric. Stop being jealous.”

“JI was high, so considered it was scratched at all means I’m still good at my lowest. You, even when you’re horny, didn’t quite match well yourself. And no, I’m looking for my cane and katar. Got it!” Samad stated as he pulled the two items from under the bed then started to pull open his sleeve. He then strapped the katar to his forearm, quickly securing it and finally ripped the sleeve over his arm. Wrapping up buttoning it, Samad reached for his cane handle before he stood upright. He leaned heavily against the support while he grabbed his shirt left on the bed. Pulling it on, he pushed one arm through a sleeve and then wrapped it about to put on the other through.

“How did you get them under….Nevermind. You found them, great! Shall we leave with our magnificent entrance all set? You limp out, I’ll make jokes about breaking the bed and your leg, it’ll be a grand old time.” She attached her cloak with a theatrical whirl and headed towards the door.

“I’m talented and just leave it at that. As for joking about breaking my leg, I doubt it would stand but good luck making it. The attempt should be funny at least since you don’t look like you could break much of anything. As for grand old time, I very much doubt it with all of us babysitting the bloodlines and tolerating my partner Cade.” Samad stated then started to follow, his leg giving him issues all the way.

-----Back in the Bathrooms_----

“Oh that bitch!” Maeve said, laughing slightly.. She looked at Cade. “I send your partner to go and get her, and instead he has sex with her. What the hell kinda deal is that?” She walked up to him. “Are you sober enough to actually walk now, or shall we wait for them to hobble over here?”

Cade jumped at Maeve’s reaction then raised an eyebrow in question. Gradually, his queasiness had faded finally and he managed to straightened his figure where he could stand upright now. However, a heavy headache managed to swirl around his skull causing him to lean down for his medical bag. Thankfully it was waterproof, namely with everything they encounter he made it such, so the contents weren’t going to be ruined by the damage left by the bomb.

His hand reached into the open top for some painkiller. Cade wasn’t surprised honestly that Samad had bedded Kiara, for several reasons. His partner wasn’t exactly tied with anyone and it had been a while since the man had laid with anyone, then add that with the fact their judgement was impaired equal a disastrous result.

Before the man could reply, Maeve tilted her head and started giggling. The giggles turned into full blown laughter as she leaned against the wall, holding her ribs.

“I can’t...I can’t...this is great!”

Cade shifted uncomfortably, seeing the Asylum break down into a fit of giggles. “Considering the situation, it doesn’t surprise me and not likely ideal to wait. Also, don’t you think we have other things to do other than stand around and giggle?”

He popped a pinch of herbs into his mouth then sucked it off his finger, letting it become absorbed in his tongue. It would take some time to work but the effect was long lasting and healthier than chemically made painkillers too. As he rubbed his temple, Cade then added. “Shouldn’t we be looking for more bombs? There could be more.”

Maeve looked at Cade in honest confusion. “You mean...you can’t….Gods. How new are you two at this whole ‘other person in my head’ thing? I can hear everything in Kiara’s head, and her reactions. Very well, I’ll show you why I was giggling.”Maeve’s eyes clouded over, shining a muted green, and two voices spoke from her mouth.

“I had a normal life up until about 4 years ago when my Alchemy sprouted and I was given a crash course, including the fact my rights as human no longer exists. Cade stated bitterly as he then added right before two voices erupted from Maeve’s throat. “In addition, I’m currently Samad’s second partner so our link isn’t… good.”

He listened while the conversation he assumed was happening in the bedroom poured out of the Asylum’s mouth, finding the experience a bit creepy. It was like she was a recording within the room causing him to frown in discomfort while it progressed more.

“Powerful things come in small packages, you should know. You've got the second half of that saying down.”

"Careful. It's not easy riding your boney ass after all and I'm pretty sure you stuck me with those boney hips of yourself more times than once."

“At least I didn’t have to be guided.”

Her eyes cleared, sparkling with mirth. “See? They’re arguing over who was worse in bed and it’s fucking hilarious. As for the bombs, if there were more they’d have gone off by now, while we were all incapacitated. Remember that?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please tell me you’re not taking more drugs. You just got off of being higher than a kite.”

“Yes but these I know the effects of, and aren’t alchemy laced. They are painkillers unless you want me patching people up with a headache and instead of healing, making it worse. We don’t know how the other faired or their condition due to the side effects. As for the bombs… are you willing to risk the mission and the Bloodlines on that assumption?” Cade resisted the urge to growl.

“Yep!” Maeve replied cheerfully.

By this time, Samad and Kiara came into view. Samad avoided Cade’s eyes, which the younger Asylum didn’t care at the moment and asked a question. “You realize we have to get back to the families before they realize something up, right?”

Samad nodded and spoke, limping past Cade with his cane supporting him. “Yeah, though we might have a few less to babysit now. With any luck.”

Kiara waved a hand. “Way too late. The Peraltas have at least one camera in every room of this ship. They know very well that there are bombs and we dealt with them...though, I must admit, ‘dealt with’ is a loose term. Fortunately for us, the Chrono is still out there and they’re all behaving.”

“Pity”, was all Samad replied drawing a glare from Cade. The ex-Kian was glad their telepathy rarely worked when they were in conflict, the only positive thing when they were paired as far as he was concern. Ignoring the obvious tension pouring off Cade, he pushed past and started toward the room they all came from.

Up until this point Dante has been avoiding his gaze towards AJ but seeing his youngest daughter heading in the direction of the estranged Asylum and his partner, Dante took caution of seeing where the young girl’s curiosity would take her in case an intervention would be needed. But instead, the girl stopped and visited the Queen Anne’s two troublemakers again but with her glances towards him he knew that they were not her intended target. “It looks like the other bloodlines won’t be the only concern for me this time around but it looks like I’m not the only one with a little piece of history joining us for this trip .” The man said hinting at the ex Kain that came aboard the ship with the other asylums. “Even to this day he looks very much like you from the pictures I’ve seen of you in your younger years.”

Nima nodded, remorsefully. “He does, sadly, and I think that’s why many of the branch members believe I was a fool in giving him up to AMRO. Samad will always be a unpleasant… issue that will be brought up over and over again. Despite his loyalties no longer being with the family. Even Yaser felt he was a much worthier choice for Heir and I believe is what causes his issues, or least some root of it.”

The Shah sighed through his nose as he watched the twins’ head idly gaze over toward Antonia, their heads pulled back to look at Sahar, who nodded allowance. The twins giggled then started to dart toward the gathering.

Upon noting the Queen Anne’s two children there, Nima’s figure immediately tensed in stress and visible worry. It was obvious thick dislike ran deep between the two families, Namely as when the Kians formed pacts and alliances, they were often stronger than iron. This also made old wounds that cut deep enough, hard to forgive.

“It’s always a wonder on how children are able to find the weak points of their parents. It is almost as if they are intentionally seeking them out and craving to push past the boundaries we would want for them but alas, it’s a path many like to take as they grow up.” Dante said as he watched the children mingle. He didn’t trust Apate and Dolos but with the chaos and excitement that followed them, keeping Antonia away from the duo was a losing battle whenever the two families crossed paths which he came to terms with.

“The twins are getting older and with the training your children go through, I have no doubt they will be able to handle whatever mischief the two brats might throw their way.” Dante said with a reassuring nod as he took a glance towards Irene who was watching Antonia as well. Although Dara and Ziba were old enough to handle themselves, the impressionable ten year old was still young enough to get herself into trouble with the two older teens. “Although it will not be for the same reasons as it is between our children, it is good that the children can branch out and get to know the other future heirs and family. The knowledge gained about an enemy is important and this will be of use in the future when they are older and cast aside childish things. A friendship with the Queen Annes would never last and when the three of them reach the age to truly understand that, they will have an arsenal of knowledge to use against them.”

Nima relaxed at Dante’s words, his mind hoping the Patriarch was right. For all of their children’s sakes. “The bad thing about knowledge, it works as a two way path. As they learn about the Queen Anne parasites, they too will be revealing weaknesses and risk the parasites taking advantage over it. It is this matter that worries me most.”

Any more conversation was interrupted when Nima spied Zidane being wheeled toward one of the other families, his head turned to the Undertaker and bowed in small respect. His eyes narrowed in curiosity at not seeing the elder man’s young daughter with him or his Heir, a man that Nima had only met a few times. Through he knew better than speak of it outloud and instead focused on Dante.

Eyeing the same distraction Nima came across with obvious distaste, Dante pushed the conversation forwards to avoid allowing the long pause turn their talk towards the older man and his strange family. “It is an unfortunate gamble we are placing on our children but a lesson they must learn at some point and mastering it at a young age when the threats are smaller and the knowledge they possess hasn’t reached their potential is more beneficial compared to the future when greater matters are the focus instead of childish rumors and stories.” Averting his gaze from Zidane, Dante looked towards the children and watched as the two Queen Anne children make a fool out of themselves with the trickery they were playing on each other. “Besides, even with the mischievous tendencies they possess those two are quite foolish. The Queen Anne’s children are older and I believe the eldest is the same age as Irene but their age almost seem like another trick they are playing given their stupidity.”

“Define small. For a Kian, there’s no such thing.” Nima stated calmly, noting the topic change. His eyes followed Dante toward the two Queen Anne children, observing their dim witted mischief. “Children often reflects their parent’s teachings. I wonder how their parents could tolerate such behavior?”

“Given the nature of their father it is a wonder if discipline even occurs at home.” Dante scoffed as he watched the two suddenly depart as they followed a pair of Asylums upstairs.

The Patriarch frowned as he heard a rumble echo through the ship. His head looked about and wondered about the source, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I hope the ship has a better reputation than its owners or we might be sinking without the Chrono’s help…”

“At least the waters might cool off some of the tensions present on board before the meeting.” Dante said as he scanned the room to see the reactions of the others present as he hoped to see a similar or equally obvious reaction that the cause of the noise wasn’t due to one of the families. However as he looked he noticed that something was off about the situation. “It appears,” The patriarch said slowly as he took a second look at those present to confirm his suspicions. “That there might be an incident occurring given the sudden decrease in those present.”

“I don’t like it. Absent Asylums often mean trouble and when they are having issues, things can only get worse. I know a few of them would have no issues eliminating anyone of the bloodlines from the eldest adults to the smallest child, their blood filled with ice. It’s not the first time after all.” Nima stated, his hand reached for a glass brought to him by one of the silent guards who then melted back into the background just as easily as he appeared. The twins seemed to keep close to his wife, yet the rumbled didn’t go unnoticed by any of them. His eyes spotted the key signs of nervous ticks signing him that none of them were responsible from Sahar’s casual sway of her eyes to pan the room in the hidden guise of adjusting her headscarf to Dara’s unreasonable efforts to remain at his twin’s and youngest sister’s sides. They were all nervous.

“I only hope no one was foolish enough to pull a stunt that could get us all killed before the meeting has actually begun…”

“Oh Lord, I hope not. Seeing that Henry’s children are missing does cause a concern though. Those two would find a way to cause mischief with the Asylums. ” Dante said as he watched his family gather after the noise before turning his attention towards his friend. “Although a single or pair of Asylum could be at fault with their judgement, I do put my trust in AMRO as a whole and if it came down to the elimination of a bloodline it would be due to a good cause.” The patriarch said, unwavering in his opinions.

“Unfortunately… my family history doesn’t reflect the same faith as you hold.” Nima stated, a slight and quiet warning in his tone over the topic. While he folded his arms over his chest, a display that caused Sahar to pause in her conversation with Dante’s wife and glance at him. It was simple, casual gesture that no one but another Kian would pay any mind to. From the corner of his eye sight, Nima noted the bodyguards become tension as if something unseen was threatening their Shah and they would eliminate it if given the chance. His fingers thrummed causing the three to settle quickly down before an already unnerved situation became a free for all rather suddenly.

He inhaled quietly then added. “However, if the brats were to be killed by their own stupidity… I would be the last to cry foul for ARMO’s decision. A first for everything, I suppose.”

“Such faith and ruthlessness. My, my what an assassin you’d make Dante. Pity you’re with the church. Regardless, I’ll offer a tiny little tidbit of advice. AMRO doesn’t give a damn about good causes or not. If you’re in their way, or they think you’re a threat, you’re being killed. Doesn’t matter what you did. If you prove yourself useful, you’ll be kept alive. Look at the Steins. Broke every law of nature known to man! By rights should have been eradicated. They’re still here, still breaking the laws of nature. Just now with AMRO’s permission.” Lucas strode up, smiling a smile that radiated arrogance.

“Nima, I know you enjoy our little game as much as I do but we agreed no bombs. They’re just cheating.” He chided, wagging a gold ringed finger at the Patriarch of the Kian. “They’re not even effective bombs. Just various hallucinogens and drugs.”

“And here I thought it was the shoddiness of your ship that created the boom.” Nima returned the comment, his eyes not bothering to acknowledge the arrival of Lucas while he maintained contact with Sahar. They seemed to be deep in a ‘telepathic’ conversation using subtle hints in their bodies or signals that told each other of their present mood. It was a bond which came with time spent with each other, love developed rather than entertained by the notion of love on first sight.

“It's a wonder the power religion has on the masses. Subduing and influencing them for AMRO's sake has kept our relationship with them in good terms.” Dante said with a mild interest of what Lucas had to say about the current situation. “Likewise my friend. At least if this vessel goes down we can trust it isn’t due to the lack of funds they receive from the illicit drugs they sell. It will be because they supplied the drugs.” The man scoffed as he waited for the newcomer to speak.

“I’m hurt Nima. Truly! You should know by now that everything I own is excessively gaudy and well built. Well. If it wasn’t you, then someone planted dummy bombs on the ships. They’re affecting all the Asylums right now. Our Exiles, Nima, are busily rutting in the bedroom. Their partners are waiting off the effects in the bathroom. Two of them are just hugging one another. Henry’s little hellion, whatever her name is, is getting bitten by one of them. Not in the suggestive way. On the hand. I think he went clean through.” Lucas ticked off all the Asylums on his fingers. “Why, if it wasn’t for the Chrono, we’d be free to stab each other all we want!”

“Exile would be a kind term for it.” Nima stated, his fingers digging into his arm over the information about Samad breeding a Peralta bitch. Sahar quickly whispered something to Francesa then pointed to the children, her figure rising while the woman nodded in understanding and allowed Nima’s wife to make her escape into his direction. Her movements were lithe and graceful with each step as she stroked a gentle hand over her husband’s heated skin. Her presence was enough to cool the boiling fury underneath.

Lucas raised an eyebrow at Dante, his eyes gleaming with a new way to get under Nima’s skin. “That’s awfully hypocritical, Falso Sacerdote. You and I just sell different drugs. You drug the soul with lies, I drug the mind and body with filth. Really, the only difference is I don’t despise you for your trade.” Lucas gave a small bow to Sahar. “As beautiful as ever, I see. A pleasure to have you join our conversation.”

Sahar merely bowed her head, her polite way to acknowledge Lucas and leaned against her husband to continue to be his rock for the moment.

“Oh, by the way.” Lucas’s smile darkened, almost fading away completely. Almost. “The Delacour and Krichilsky Families have been wiped out.” He paused for a moment. “Though, to be fair, the latter was just a conglomerate of failures. No real loss.”

“Do we know the reason?” Dante questioned, ignoring Lucas’s prior comment for a future heated debate as he did his best to keep his mouth shut about it. “Was it AMRO or due to another source?”

Sahar tightened her grip at the news delivered by Luca, her eyes raised to Nima to gauge his reaction and thoughts. He merely stood like a statue, his figure too still to be natural. His mind was in a dark place and she knew it, her voice spoke into the conversation in order to draw her Shah out from his thoughts. “Facts are important regardless of whom they come from so be completely sure what you speak is the truth.”

Lucas’s posture shifted minisculely. It was likely only the two Kian noticed, trained as they were in Lucas’s arts. He had noted Nima’s stillness, and was ready for anything. “I don’t know Dante, why don’t you ask your God? Or perhaps those lies aren’t as comforting to you as they are the masses?” That last barb thrown out, he returned to the matter at hand.

“It wasn’t AMRO. We’d have heard about it by now. Repeatedly. And been made to watch live executions. Followed by live videos of everything those families loved being burned. They probably would have kicked puppies while we watched for good measure. No, it was whatever has AMRO so worked up and is attacking us. It’s grown bold.” Lucas shrugged. “Whether we like each other or not, something is hunting us and AMRO isn’t inclined to be protective.” His hand suddenly smashed downwards, moving unnaturally fast, against his thigh.

He flicked the dead bug off of his leg, looking up towards the heir of the Adesolas with that same smile. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Pequeña Leona. If you wish to join us, simply walk over. We don’t bite. Much.”

Folami cautiously made her way over, narrowing her eyes at Lucas. “That hurt.”

Lucas smirked. “Shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. You’re up-to-date on our conversation?” She nodded. “Good!” Lucas clapped his hands together. “Anyone have anything to add?”

“It is a shame to hear what has become of the Delacour. They were a good family with good standards but it does concern me who exactly is involved.” Dante said as he glared at Lucas, his patience chipping away with his continued comments towards him. “It’s not just with these two families that is out of place this time around. With all the deaths that have been occurring it is obvious that something has changed and for the worse. I only hope that none of you are the ones behind this turmoil because it will not be taken lightly by the Palladinos.” The man said clenching his fist as he thought about his uncle.

“That’s why we’re all here after all. To figure out who’s behind it and hopefully put a stop to it as for my family being involved, we have enough issues to deal with.” Nima said in a hard to read tone, Sahar’s eyes took on a concerned expression. Her hand gripped harder to rein in the Shah’s inner boiling point before he finally relaxed. All tension fell from his body like water pulling in from the sea and straightening out over the coastal lines, serene and calm once more. She let out a small breath of relief over finally tampering his inner rage. Her hand reached out to touch Dante, giving him an understanding look under her covering scarves.

“Dead. Yet again.” A woman voice whispered as AJ looked around trying to find the source of the sound. “If you can't even get the basics down how do you think you will ever survive when you join Innocence much less the rest of your life?” The woman's voice continued as a chill ran down AJ's back. It was cold out.

Continuing to look around, the young man noticed a faint figure to his left but the darkness made it hard to see. With only one thing in his perimeter he could see, AJ rushed towards the figure but before he reached it, it vanished. The only remnants of the being was a wisp of smoke that quickly dissipated. His feet and fingers felt numb and the rest of his body felt chilled. He could see his breath in the cold even with the limited lighting.

"Was all this effort in saving you from normality that man and his family tainted you with worth it? Did I waste my time raising you? Maybe Dante was right?"

Focusing on the sound of the voice, AJ tried to locate the source but as always, her voice was crafted in a way that it always engulfed him during their training sessions and without a clear voice. There would be no escape from her. "No...He's wrong..." AJ responded quietly as fear resinated in his voice. "Y-you're wrong..."

"Then prove it to me that you are worth my time." The woman said as the figure returned along with reinforcement.



“Ava?” Keith muttered in confusion as he looked at where he last saw his partner. However he wasn't there and off to the side he saw the all too familiar woman he said his farewells to earlier that morning. The anger he held about the bomb going off faded away as he took a step towards the woman. “No, this can't be right. You can't be here on the ship.” She was supposed to be back at headquarters or whisked away on another mission unless reinforcements were called. She still wouldn't have been dressed in the silk robe she had on that morning. Most of all she wouldn't be as quiet as she was after the quarrel the two had earlier.

The woman turn around and start to walk away and trying to close the gap between the two Keith took a few steps towards Ava. "No. Don't leave." Seeing that Ava wasn't going to stop Keith ran after her. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry about whatever stupid thing you think I did. Alright?" Although the lack of sincerity was present he hoped that he could win over the lady with an apology or at least get her to talk to him. But it wasn't working and the woman was heading right towards the edge of the ship. Was she going to jump?



"...Ap..Apa...Apate," Dolos hestitantly muttered as his fingers pointed towards the ocean, or more so what appeared to be surfacing. "Is that a...mother of Davy Jones....its a...a fucking KRAKEN!" The boy couldn't believe it himself and despite his trembling knees he was grinning ear to ear. The Queen Anne lived for the thrill of life and what greater thrill could live offer than witnessing...nay battling the beast of the sea.

The creature continued to slowly emerge, its size towering over the ship as its tentacles began to coil around it. The entire scene was as if something out of a fairy tale and Dolos was struck in awe, this was his moment to carve his name on the tides, the ocean itself. Since the Bloodlines' inception, the Queen Anne had always been obsessed in taming the oceans and what greater symbolisims of conquest than defeating the beast of mythology.

Time for hestitation had passed, with a snap of his fingers the metal on the ship began to liquify and slowly transmute into a harpoon, that he now clenched in his hands. The boy couldn't help but laugh hysterically as he gazed into the Abyss that was the Kraken's eye.

"I will tame you and with you the ocean and then the world!" The boy screamed as the sky darkened and thunder roared from above. With those brave words spoken, the boy hurled the harpoon, lightning enveloping it, towards one of the tentacles that had crept on board.

---xx-----xx---

"I am so confused right now," Rena thoguht as she blinked while looking up towards the commotion. The Chrono had wandered off from her partner only to find herself in a situation a little more bizzare than A.M.R.O's Blood Draped Angel getting sea sick.

What she saw was the Queen Anne heir stripping off his clothes while looking at the empty ocean and frantically hurling a fishing rod all the while laughing maniacally.

"How am I the weird one...." The child contemplated before stepping away.

---xx-----xx---

"Damn girl!" Keith exclaimed as he dodged one of her high heels being thrown at him as she started to laugh. "What the hell is wrong with you?" The man said as he approached Ava. "Sure, I understand your need for being pissy at me but throwing your shoe at me and acting like a lunatic doesn't solve anything. Let's talk it out, okay. No weird silent treatment or acting like a psycho, alright." Keith said as he tried to close the gap between them for an embrace.



"What a splendid job dear. Just make sure my weapons are just as pristine as this dress. A matriarch must look her best if she is going to be visiting the other bloodlines." Apate said as she did a slight twirl to admire her newly handcrafted dress that was made just for this occasion.

"Oh, and please make sure Dolos stays...occupied during all of this. I don't want brother dearest getting in the way of my first meeting as the matriarch." Apate said with a chuckle as she sauntered down the hallway. She could hear the yells of her brother off in the distance but with it mufffled she paid no heed to it. There were more important matters to focus on.

But before she could make it to the end of the hallway she felt a tug which was followed by a loud tear. Turning around she saw one of the young brats look right at her in an dazed expression. Matriarch or not, she wasn't going to let one of the bloodline brats get away with destroying her dress on her special day."You just reached the end of my patience kiddo. You best be ready for the hell that I am going to relea... wait a moment!" Apate yelled, the anger replaced by confusion as the kid ran off in an erratic pattern as he flailed his arms or swayed back and forth every so often. "Did you get a little too much to drink or something? I don't think mommy and daddy will be happy with your decisions." The girl snickered as she tried to catch up with the kid which little did she know was AJ.

"Don't...Stop this, please." The kid pleaded quietly as he contined to stumble forwards.

"Stop what? Me telling your parents?" Apate asked as she grabbed the kid's shoulder to turn him around and figure out which bloodline he was from. However she was met with a surprise when the boy bit her hand.

"Get off me. GET THE FUCK OFF YOU SHIT FUCKING DUMBASS! GET OFF ME!!!" Apate yelled at the boy as she tried to pry him off her hand but was met with no success. The grip he had was strong even compared to an adult. She could feel the bones in her hand start to give from the pressue it was under as the sound of her bones being broken coinsided with a new wave of pain. Prying wouldn't work so it appeared that a new approach would be needed unless she wanted to lose her hand.

---------Xx----------xX--------

"Songs will be sung of this day, the day I kill a kraken!" Dolos declared heroically, his palm thrusting out towards the illusionary beast and dousing it a shower of steam. Amidst his highentened excitment and obnoxious laughter the boy was clueless that he had just assualted the Asylum in front of him, albeit the hallucigins might have played a role as well.

"Fight me foul creature!" The boy provoked the imaginary monstrocity in front of him and madly dashed towards, what was actually, the Asylum known as Keith.

---------Xx----------xX--------

"I guess acting like a psycho it is." Keith muttered as a burst of steam engulfed him.This wasn't a normal response from Ava but given her mysterious entrance maybe there was something that was going on with her. However he was momentarily distracted by an overwhelming sense of fear intruding his thoughts. Something was wrong.

AJ, where are you? What's going on? Are you okay?
Even during the most heated arguments between the two there was never a moment he could think of when the two were on radio silence from each other besides when he started to get intimate with Ava or another lady. He needed to find AJ.

Come on Spock, you never let your emotions get in the way. You need to answer me.
Concern was creeping into his voice as he tried to communicate with his partner again but there was nothing but fear responding.

With nothing more than a taunt to fight and a mad dash towards him, Keith had just enough time to sidestep and avoind the attack given his distraction. "Not now, okay. Something is wrong with AJ. Feel free to beat me up or get your revenge later on but first we need to find him. I don't have time for this." Keith said knowing that even if there was a tiff going on between the two of them they would be able to set it aside just enough to solve this problem.

Damn it AJ. You need to answer me. I can't lose lose you. I can't lose another partner. Not again.
However seeing that Ava was preparing for another attack Keith could see that there would be no getting through to her at this time. He needed to solve this issue quickly. "Fine, I'll help you cool off." Keith said impatiently and with a quick flick of his hand Keith then quickly balled up his hand. The sand that scattered during the explosion gathered by the woman's legs and crept up as it wrapped around her and bound her legs and arms into place. "I know I'll get bitched at later for this but let's just say this is for your own good." Keith said as he picked up the woman and before tossing her onto one of the pool lounge chairs, gave her a kiss. He didn't like leaving her in this way but he needed to make sure she would stay out of the way while he looked for AJ.

"AJ! Where are you?" Keith yelled as he made his way back towards the last spot he saw his partner. Taking a glance back towards Ava he noticed that the woman was missing. "That's strange..."

Bloodline

Queen Anne
Swirling a glass of wine, Henry decided to intrude on the Kian and Pallidinos. In terms of trust the Queen Anne were perhaps among the last picks of most, much of the credit for this infamous reputation went to the Patriarch of pirates. For centuries the Queen Anne family have sought their thrills and amusement through meddling in the affairs of others, however with Henry's rise to power this 'meddling' has become a common place affair in the lives of the New Bloods. Regarded as the 'Viper', Henry's invisible hand has been present in most conflicts regarding territorial disputes to cargo and shipment ‘misplacement’; however the man has always slipped out of any allegations made at him hence earning his nickname.

"I see my children have caused you some discomfort," Henry spoke as Nima and Dante concluded. "Ye don't need to worry mate, me children maybe rowdy and impulsive but they know better than to pull a hornets' nest. Ye children could learn a bit from Dolos and Apate, they aren't held back by suffocating and hypocritical delusions of honor and righteousness that ye two seem to force onto ye kids. Though that is what I enjoy about ye two, blind priests preaching to the blind." The Patriarch couldn't help but laugh hysterically as he walked away, allowing the two to continue their discussions, but not before giving his two cents on the real issue on hand.

"My children at least don't have a death wish," Nima growled, his eyes fixed on the man with a loathing that seemed to soil the air. If he could, he would plant a dagger in the Patriarch's back and rid the world of another piece of filth that should've died long ago. Sahar, in tune with his current mood, squeezed his arm to settle his wrath once more. Her own eyes followed his gaze with more... observant eyes. Though hatred was there, it just hidden much better.

"It would be wise not to discuss the Delacour case, the word is spreading and one of us will fall," with this forewarning, the Viper left to retrieve his idiot son who had somehow managed to be thrown overboard. Henry's intimidating gaze meeting with Lucas, as he observed the head of Peraltas approaching Dante and Nima, his large hand giving their host a friendly pat on the back.


----------------Xx-----------------xX--------------

Steins and Laveaus

"You're behind the Delacours aren't you, you cold hearted bitch," Clair scoffed as she sat next to Cassandra, her knees calmly crossed while staring in the opposite direction. It was no secret the Laveaus and the Steins have always had animosity between them and this opportunity was a gold mine for any to capitalize on. As with any political power, dominion was key to survival and success and dominion is built over the corpses of your enemies. This age old philosophy, while crude, was detrimental to the Bloodlines which were bound by a fragile pact through A.M.R.O’s mediating.

“Am I to gain something from the annihilation of the Delacours?” Cassandra replied, her tone sincere in its confusion. “I would have contemplated their destruction if they could have offered me substantial alchemic research, but to my knowledge they were a relatively mediocre Bloodline?” The Matriarch continued, despite her expressions hidden through the gas mask, the callousness seeped from her casual tone. Unlike most Bloodlines, the Steins were often raised in a controlled and restricted environment; their grooming was strictly based to coincide with alchemic research as opposed to basic norms and principals of the modern society. As such the Stein’s could never distinguish between right and wrong, for them it was a simple matter of progressing alchemic research and stock piling alchemic knowledge. “Though I am absolutely ecstatic to start receive on their corpses!” Cassandra clasped her hands in a display of excitement, much like a child impatient to receive a present.

“You sicken me you abomination,” Clair spoke in disgust, the very sight of the Stein in front of her causing bile to rush up her throat. In retrospect, the Steins and the Laveaus were quite similar in their respective hatred of ‘God’ and their desire to destroy the entity. While one’s hatred rose from a past of suffering at the hands of the church, the other’s hatred was nestled in the irrationality that God represented. Despite these similarities both Bloodlines, since the time of their inception, have always conflicted with one another in a feud that has lasted generations.

--------------------Xx----------xX---------------
Laofeng

"Something isn't right; the Bloodlines seem to be on edge....even more so now." Ying whispered worryingly, her scrutinizing gaze bouncing from one Bloodline member to another. Sherlock wasn't need to perceive something had rippled amongst them, something was pricking at the fragile balance of peace.

"It seems A.M.R.O hasn't disclosed the situation to the Asylums," Lei mused, his feminine hands reaching out to pour some more wine. "Ying, my sweet sister, you need to be very careful. These transpiring events are making this situation far more precarious than what I originally expected. I have no doubt A.M.R.O has sent its agents to evaluate the misfortune that befell upon the Delacours, and I have no doubt there will be blood." As the Patriarch of the Old Bloods spoke his voice echoed with heart ache over the realization of the many souls extinguished for such simple carnal desires.

Ying however did not share the same empathetic expressions, the Lost Number couldn't care less of the weaklings burnt to ashes, her concerns lay with the Patriarch of the Laofengs and his protection. "There...will...be..blood," she reitterated her brother before locking her eyes with him. "That is an understatement; a Bloodline will fall before this week ends....."

Meanwhile Dara and Ziba, the twins, were entertaining each to distract themselves from the adult's unsettle nerves. For them, the conflicts of the older generation was still a long time off. It also a rarity that the Kian children didn't have to worry as much about a stray snake in the grass or various other ways their uncles could come up to end their lives. In comparison, this ship was far less dangerous than their own home. This was enough to cause Dara to push the boundaries of his parents' rules.

Parsia was both distracting both Palladinos children and thier by continually getting their attention, a fact made easier by the baby. They quickly slipped through Francesa's attention and moved toward the Laofeng's, creating distance for something likely unacceptable by their mother's standards.

"Want to see something neat?" Dara stated, asking his twin as he moved toward the table. He snatched a ripen apple and started to decay it without ever needing an answer from his twin. They were too into sync to require that. Slowly, the apple darkened. A rotten, earthy scent permeated through the air causing Ziba's nose to wrinkle in disgust.

"Gross. You know mother won't like you showing off your alchemy specialty." Ziba scowled, pushing the fruit away.

"So?" Dara stated, careful not to let the fruit soil his shirt. It was clean and he knew smelling like rotten things only kept animals away, usually, and not bloodlines.

"Now you're sounding like the Queen Anne's children."

It was Dara's turn to look sour. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened on the slowly rotten fruit, now only part way soften, when he replied. "Am not!"

"Are too."

"Not."

"S'tew!"

"S'not!"

At the final not, Dara shoved the fruit at his sister. Ziba, on impulse, sidestepped him as she read his body language then slammed her open palm into his chest. It was a reaction they were all taught: to assess, and then react. It was the only way to survive in their home though this was a first time Ziba had ever used it, applying more power behind the punch than she realized her twin expected. Naturally it did the trick. It pushed him away from and right into Lei's unprotected chair side, likely knocking both the man and the boy down.

"It is such a shame, death hounds A.M.R.O and each decision spurs her onwards. I only wish there were more peaceful solu-" before Lei could complete his rant, his head instantly tilted towards the direction of the incoming blur. Despite having the alchemic prowess to vaporize the child as well as the honed skills to easily evade him, Lei chose to remain seated so as to absorb the child's impact and reduce the possibility of injury.

In but an instant the Patriarch found himself colliding with the Kian child, the child's hand touching the leg and causing it to decay. This immediately tipped the couch causing both of them topple upon each other. "I suppose I should have thrown the wine....." Lei sighed, while he had managed to lift the glass above their heads, the wine had found its way on their heads, painting their hair crimson.

Ziba, not yet aware of who Dara plowed into, giggled. Then her face went white when she heard a voice exclaim.

"Have the Kian's lost all sense, sending a child to assassinate a Laofeng!" Ying, who had easily evaded to a safe distance, screamed as she activated her alchemic drive. The sheer magnitude of her power resonated across the ship, shattering the lights and engulfing their room in an eerie, almost sentient darkness.

"Calm down sister, it was an accident," Lei's cheerful voice echoed from within the darkness that ebbed and swayed almost demonically. "Now kiddo I need you to shut your eyes super tight, okay?" He calmly whispered to the child before shutting his own eyes only to reopen them, his irises stark white.

Dara could hear Ziba whimpering softly, her lips pressed tightly to cease displaying her weakness and trying to show strength. It didn't help he couldn't see and was trembling against the older man, like a leaf in the wind. It didn't take long for him to realize he messed up as he prepared for the worse. Death, he hoped, would've been quick. His eyes shut and stood completely still.

"Ignite"

With those words a blinding flash emanated from within his eyes, consuming the ship in stark white and ripping Ying's darkness to shreds.

"There we go, now scurry along little one." Lei spoke with a playful tone, reassuring the child no harm will come to him while lifting him to his feet, his hands 'shooing' him towards his parents and sister. "See sister, just a simple misunderstanding. After all these years and you are still the same, still the hasty over protective big little sister huh?" He teased, his hands petting Ying, whose cheeks were flushed red from embarrassment with eye reflecting guilt. She could tell Lei had used a considerable amount of power to attempt to anull her alchemy, especially knowing she was far stronger than him and the signs were quite visible. The Laofeng was clearly out of breath and mentally as well as physically drained from this endeavor.

Dara immediately darted off toward Ziba as they scrambled over to Sahar, the woman meeting them half way. Her eyes widen in panic when she heard the shout and checked each child over, her grip showing her disapproval over their actions without verbally scowling them. Her alchemy vibrating the wine from Dara's and his hair, soaking it up while uttering in their native tongue over her son's stupidity to Dara.Ziba, while her twin was getting lectured, peered over to Lei Laofeng when her mother was distracted.

Being the head of a prestigious family such as his, Lei knew just how much appearances mattered. It took the head mere seconds to regain composure and play a convincing charade of being unaffected. His head gently bowed towards Sahar in thanks for wiping away the wine after which his gaze spotted the little one peering at him. The only natural response the young patriarch could think of was to stick out his tongue and give the child a friendly wink as if silently saying, 'everything is fine'.

Ziba giggled then silenced herself when Sahar's head darted in her direction.

"Enough fooling around, can we try not to die before we even reach our destination?" Angel's voice echoed in the minds of all the passengers present on the ship. "Keeping these leaches alive is truly an arduous task," the Silver Reaper continued, forgetting he is still telepathically communicating, that or simply not bothering whether he is heard or not.

"Look brother we are here!" Rena suddenly chirped, the child regaining her vigor and beginning to bounce and frolic across the ship, only stopping when the Peralta estate had come into view.

"Ah, the graveyard of our passengers, we your undertakers… welcome you." Angel teased while welcoming them with a sarcastically courteous bow, enjoying just how tensed and paranoid the Bloodlines were.

The Peralta’s Island was interesting and certainly showed their worth to the world. The greenery was filled with a large temperate and subtropical forest merged together, giving a wide variety of unique plant life that stuck out even within its isolation. It was clear not all the life was native to the island, numerous species from plants to animals, and most were brought in then left to thrive. And thrive it seemed to do. Overall, the setting wasn’t unpleasant to look at after one concerned the pain staking means it took to achieve it.

Right at the Peraltas’ front door were a small group of Asylums, meandering about and waited to be let in like stray cats, each waiting for the cruise ship holding the one with the key to arrive. The lost number, Geko, leaned against the far wall. He was within the enclosed section of the mansion and nearby some shadows which he could easily use to make himself less notable should trouble come knocking. A cigar smoked between his lips, the wisps wafting from the cherry red tip glowing with each breath. His arms were crossed over his broad chest while his legs were stretched out in a casually leaning position, his figure leaning heavily on the wall’s smoothed out stone surface. He was dressed completely in black while he admired younger, female Asylums with slight smirk.

He, among the other Asylums, had been briefed over their newest task so they all were well aware the Bloodlines were on route to the Meeting of the Crests. Anytime they would arrive and until then, they were ordered to wait here.

Waiting didn't sit well with Gris's nature, not on an Island in god knows where away from his tools. The man's hands continuously ran themselves along the belt he wore, searching for any stray hairs or gaps. It was a good thing he was finding none as he had no way to repair them, and such an imperfection would have elicited an undesirable reaction from Gris.

Joseph watched his partner's work. Privately he was nervous about Gris. The man didn't take well to being idle and his mind might find other ways to entertain himself at any moment. He needed to react quickly with song to protect everyone if that was the case. The enforced patience chafed at him as well. He'd been warming up his throat since they arrived, running through his vocal exercises. If they had to bide their time he at least wanted to use it productively.

Keeping Gris in mind he selected a song from memory, purely mundane, but one he knew calmed the man. Ignoring the others who were waiting, apathetic towards their tastes or desires, he began to sing the soothing melody.

Rikka was sitting on a patch of grass, admiring at how many plants she could pull before annoying Oliver. The sun burned onto her skin, emitting a golden glow on her fingers. Oliver sat next to her with his mask pulled down, he was about to scold her about messing with the plants. However, it seemed as though she had momentarily stopped. Oliver glanced up and noticed that she was staring at an unusual pair in the distance. As Joseph's song reached Rikka's ears, she turned towards him and grimaced at the sight. Her eyebrows furrowed and her brightly colored eyes narrowed. She grabbed Oliver's wrist and pulled him close to seemingly whisper about the strange Asylum man. Her eyes glossed over his appearance, cracking a smile to her friend, "Hey, Antoine, don't you think he sounds too flat when he hits E sharp?" She asked her friend with an obnoxious tone to her voice.

Oliver glanced over to the pair and then back at his partner. Rikka stared back at him and smirked, knowing that Oliver caught wind of what she was going to do. He shook his head and spoke in a hushed voice, "We have no idea what they are capable of. Starting a fight isn't--.." Rikka threw his hand back and swiftly stood up. The flowers that she had collected on her lap had dropped to her feet. Before Oliver had a chance to stop her from the mess she was about to cause, Rikka waltzed up to the pair.

"You shouldn't be singing if you can't hit the proper notes."

A true professional when it came to singing Joseph did not allow his song to be prematurely ended by the rude interruption. Instead he continued on until the end of the chorus, finding a point where he could allow his voice to trail off in a natural finish. He could see Gris gently rocking along to the music from the corner of his eye and hoped the man would stay distracted in his own little world for a few minutes as he dealt with the uncouth before him.

He gave his voice a few moments to rest before speaking, fixing a condescending look upon his face as he addressed Rikka, "Little girl you should keep your mouth shut on matters you know nothing about. Do not bother the professionals with your ignorant drivel." He stopped short of patting her on the head, but his smile widened and he shooed her off with his hand, clearing his throat and preparing to start again.

Bashing her head in with a brick.

Being strapped to a chair, subject to the mercies of a particularly vengeful orator--the topic at hand being a truly exhaustive lecture illustrating various properties of sand.

Being forced to decide between three identical shades of beige, complete with a shrieking sales representative and a time limit almost as short as she was. Which, considering the tiny stature with which Elliot Ferris had been cursed, was two steps away from being absolutely terrifying.

Each of these prospects seemed enthralling, considering the alternative--there was showing up fashionably early, and then there was being an asshole. This fell securely under the latter category, Elliot figured--if showing up ten minutes early was tantamount to treason, then arriving hours beforehand had to be equivalent to a declaration of war. Etiquette, she decided, was for nerds. And, frankly, if she wasn't given something to do soon, she was going to bid the last vestiges of her dignity a poignant farewell and add ‘hammering nails into her own damn fingertips’ to the list.

Even the tension brewing mere meters away wasn't enough to stymie monotony's cruel, cruel machinations, and if the glazed-over gaze and the numb, slack expression weren't explicit indication she was mere minutes away from exploring the treacherous terrain of recreational idiocy, then maybe the cramps caused by prolonged inactivity would emphasize the point quite nicely.

She didn't have to get involved. She could swerve safely out of harm's way, right back into her own lane, where she belonged. She would mind her own damn business and leave the receipt-hounding to the professionals.

”N'you shouldn't be talkin'," she called to the instigator (the girl that made ‘princess complex’ look like a brand new social movement, hot off the proverbial griddle), a broad grin unfurling on pink lips, "when the only thing your petty ass can hit is a nerve. Sea ain't salty enough for you?"

Or, she could put her foot in her mouth. She could do that, too.

She could do that pretty damn well.

Geko's ears perked up at the budding fight occurring between the unlinked, and two sets of teams. His eyes shifted from one group to the next, and finally settled on the last woman. He let a little smirk played across his lips while he debated on either two options: let this play out a little longer or stop it in its tracks. Both had their perks and hassles, his figure starting to edge up off the wall and stand upright.

He puffed his cigar a bit more, his teeth pinning it in his mouth as he edged closer gradually. His steps heavy and slow, drawing nearer like a shark watching a school of fish play.

Rikka scoffed at the other that decided to interfere, she flicked her strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulders and glanced back at the man that was singing formerly. She straightened out her back and crossed her arms with a smile, "I was going to give you a nasty look..But it seems like you already have one." Rikka turned back to the man and placed her hands on her hips, "A pro? Why haven't I heard of you?" She skimmed through the look on his face and rolled her eyes, "Little girl? If you looked the way you act, you'd be dead."

Oliver watched from the sidelines, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the people gathering around Rikka. He looked down at his feet and realized that he was stepping on a blue petunia. Dropping to his knees, he quickly muttered a few words to ignite some type of strength in the flower to live. Oliver's lips straightened at the sight of Rikka's feet. She was stepping on a patch of a brilliant blue flowers. He quickly got to his feet and approached Rikka and the others. The boy slipped on the mask and placed a hand on her left shoulder. Rikka assumed that the hand was there to either console her from fighting or for his desire to be closer to the little "princess".

An merely chuckled at the situation escalating in front of her, sprawled languidly on the soft grass and merely giving the situation a lazy glance. She didn't care much for matters like this, and instead spent the time amusing herself by switching her glasses to thermal imaging and laughing at the fluctuating colours, which were all inching towards some shade of angry red. Casting a cursory glance at her partner, An let out a long-suffering sigh and patted the grass beside her.

"Babe, please calm down, prissy mcsnobbypants just wanted a bit of excitement."

Tae kept on pacing, wearing a path in the grass as her body ran high on both anticipation and a strange urge to simultaneously jump into the quarrel and placate it. Her face was as sullen as ever, amber glare harsh and bright, but the agitated twitch of her fingers gave her away as she clenched her hands into fists.

"That's entirely unprofessional, that's what. Terrible first impressions, really; squabbling like children right before such an important meeting. They really-"

Tae shut her mouth with an audible click when An sighed loudly and yanked her down onto the grass by the arm.

"You're going to be fine, immaturity never killed anyone." An cooed in a babying voice, borderline insulting, causing the scowl on Tae's face to deepen yet soothing the ire in her eyes. A bit more mumbling followed, but ultimately Tae stilled, resorting to picking at the grass around them to work out her agitation.

"Good girl," An teased, giving Tae a small pat. Turning her attention back to the group standing a little ways away, she laughed again, thoroughly delighted by the conflict.

"Gosh, wish I had popcorn."

"Oh boy, this is gonna be good." Audrey sat down on the grass beside Tae and An, eyes fixated on the fight that was brewing nearby. It was almost like watching a live-action drama, and after popping a handful of chips into her mouth, she shoved the bag of chips towards both girls. "Hey, it's not popcorn, but who doesn't love chips?"

She waited for a response then focused on the action once more.

Wow, and she thought she was supposed to be the kid. For a bunch of grownups, her fellow Asylums seemed awfully immature. They'd been here for (less than an hour?), and already, several people were at each other's throats. Not that she minded of course. In fact, the silly squabble brought an amused expression to Audrey's face, and she quirked up an eyebrow when more and more people began crowding around the prissy girl and the guy who liked to sing. Yeah, working with these people was gonna be one helluva riot.

"Burn," Audrey yelled obnoxiously from the sidelines when Elliot joined in and landed a verbal smackdown on Rikka. She shifted her attention to Joseph. "Come on, Sing-along! Are you just gonna let her talk shit about you?" Not waiting for anyone to respond, Audrey popped another handful of potato chips into her mouth and chewed loudly.

Jo held up his hand towards the other women who were adding their voices to the argument. He didn't need any assistance from external forces to deal with Rikka. Nor was he bothered by the approach of the girl's masked partner who for now remained silent. "Take your partner's advice my uncultured friend and excuse yourself from this discussion before you reveal more of your ignorance. It is unseemly for a young girl to embarrass herself so." He smirked at her and once again waved a hand in dismissal. He refused to let the annoyance he was feeling at her intrusion show.

The tune in his head had finally faded away leaving nothing but silence. It had been years since Gris had been able to hold a song in his head properly, and one of the reasons Jo needed to be close by at all times. A frown overtook his face and he turned towards where he had last seen Jo. The man was now being accosted by two people as the others nearby all watched. His frown deepened and he took a few steps forward, cracking his knuckles and intending to interfere quite physically with the situation.

From the corner of his eye Jo spotted his partner making his way over and felt a small stab of fear. "Gris no need to interfere." he called out, adding a little song to his voice, "I can deal with these people here." The other man halted, a flutter of confusion crossing his expression before he nodded, folding his arms and stopping to just watch.

Rikka gritted her teeth at hearing a group of people that were already misreading the situation. The girl tilted her head back as people began to make a big deal about her simple criticism. All she meant was that he needed to work on his ability to hit high notes. Oliver dropped his grip on Rikka's shoulder and nodded at Joseph, "Yeah Rikka, you need to get off of the lilacs." Oliver could only keep his mind focused on his flowers rather than think about what Rikka was doing or what she was up to. As Oliver realized that he was in the presence of others, he bowed deeply towards Joseph while sputtering out his name, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I am Oliver Agreste." His antler made of branches had lightly prodded into Joseph's thigh. Without reading much into the situation, Oliver quickly lifted Rikka off her feet and placed her to the left of the lilacs. He raised a brow towards the larger and scary looking man, but nonetheless bowed to him as well, "Hello, may we ask for your names?"

She was fuming now, Rikka didn't have to be put aside like that, "Forget about their names, Antoine!" Oliver hooked an arm around his partner's, "I bet he thinks he can sing better than me!"

"Obviously I can." Joseph quickly interjected, the smirk still on his face.

She gritted her teeth and placed her closed fists on her hips, "Fucking prove it," She spat out.

"I will." he replied, keeping his demeanour calm in stark contrast to the girl's attitude. He cleared his throat once more, raising a hand up like an opera, and began to sing. Rikka furrowed her eyebrows and took a step forward. It wasn't like he was any better than she was, Rikka decided that she had stalled long enough. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to sing higher and to drown him out with her notes. Noting his foes volume Joseph adjusted his own tone, taking on a lower pitch than Rikka. Yet oddly, he realised, their voices weren't discordant. They were ... harmonising? Rikka scrunched up her face as she heard their voices blend in together. Her frustration blistered from within, the "primadonna" decided to change the tune to see if he would be able to keep up with her. The reaction from Jo was instant, as his voice followed her changes perfectly, always keeping an octave below. Whatever she tried he knew he could easily match it. She narrowed her eyes at the man and continued to change the pitch, taking short and silent breaths in between. As Rikka sang the scales up and down, their voices created an ethereal and soothing melody. Joseph was surprised by how well the girl kept up and tilted his head to look at her. Subconsciously, she felt Joseph's glaring eyes at her, she quickly locked eyes to scare off her competition. There was no sign of backing down, but at that moment, they both stopped singing almost simultaneously and stared at each other in anger.

"That is just about enough of this foolishness!" The Lost Number finally intervened, his dominating aura stiffening the air itself. "There are better ways to measure dick," the old man continued as he slowly walked towards the group of toddlers. "You kids have way too much energy, I am almost envious. However it takes a lot of balls to torture your superior by making him listen to your terrible singing!" Geko's voice had suddenly taken a fiendish tone, it was clear the Oldman had something mischievous in mind.

"Now I wonder what should the punishment be for you two, any suggestions?" With that the Lost Number had just found a way to make this dreary day a little more interesting as he turned to the others for their villainous ideas.

Instead of fighting, Joseph and Rikka opted for a sing off. The silliness of it all made Audrey laugh and she nearly choked on her potato chips in the process. Well, everyone here certainly was interesting. "Betcha guys didn't expect that either?" She turned to Tae and An with a bright and impish grin. It looked like the girl had decided to attach herself to the pair for now since the others were preoccupied with the bickering turned sing off.

"Honestly, both of them were - oh, man, looks like someone's going to get it." Not caring about whether her commentary was getting on anyone's nerves, Audrey finally piped down when Geko began striding towards Joseph and Rikka.

She expected a slap on the wrist, but then their superior started talking about punishments and she made a face in protest. Would anyone actually sell out their fellow asylums for having a frigging sing off? Yeah, she didn't know them, but a sing off was hardly something to get punished for, righ? She gobbled up a handful of chips as the cogs and gears in her head started to whir. The loud chewing went on for a few more moments before she eventually shot her hand into the air like a student with an answer.

"They were pretty good. Wouldn't mind another song actually."

An grinned impishly at Audrey, accepting the offer of food, passing a few on to Tae, who simply frowned and refused. Shooting the black-haired girl a sharp look, An simply turned back to Audrey and smiled.

"Thanks; any treats would work, honestly, this is too entertaining to pass up."

Laughing when Audrey added her own commentary, An was pleasantly surprised when they decided to sing their anger.

"N-no... definI- definitely not." She spat out through her chuckles, nearly wheezing. Quickly tapping on her glasses, she set them to ‘record’, wanting to save this moment as either blackmail or something to laugh about later. An snorted when Audrey choked and pounded her on the back in a comradely fashion, already quite comfortable with the younger girl.

"Jesus, if they wanted a recording deal they should have headed to a studio, or at least somewhere with better acoustics and a more open fanbase." She sniggered, glancing at Tae who seemed to be quite awestruck. Ah, well; Tae had always been the more artistic out of the two of them.

An giggled when Geko decided to step up, humoured by his threats.

"You'd think he'd stop them earlier if they were so bad, stop them before they laid out track one of their first album." She joked, raising her hand and voice to accompany Audrey's comment.

"Hear, hear; it'd be a great song for y'all's debut album." She called, grinning impishly and ignoring Tae's restless, agitated shifting beside her. So what if she was pouring kerosene on a bonfire? It was fun, and nothing huge would happen before such a big meeting, anyways.

"Bunch of brats," Geko contemplated as he shot a fiery glance towards the cheeky Asylums in his path. "In my time children were less insolent," he spoke while reminiscing the stricter days of old where the back of the hand was the perfect tool of upbringing. A chuckle escaped the Lost Number as he observed the Asylums in front of him, in his eyes they were all but toddlers who hadn't seen the true cruelty their occupation had to offer. It was a sight that brought a sense of solace as well as a hint of despair, the old man had lost count of how many times he had seen such a sight and how many bodies he had to bury afterwards.

"Ya'll kids need to get serious," Geko chastised the group before reaching out his hand to flick Audrey and An on their foreheads, one would think this gesture to be a playful act however once they witnessed both the females being hurled several feet from the impact, they would possibly re-evaluate the situation.

"Next time I get a cheeky response from you ladies, your panties will be auctioned at A.M.R.O's head quarters. I am sure a lot of people will be looking forward to that." He warned the lot, a perverted smirk spreading across his face.

"Bloodlines have been part of the balance for many centuries, A.M.R.O cannot afford to let it fall apart," the atmosphere had suddenly gotten a little tense, the gravity of this mission was clear from Geko's tone. "If war breaks out among the bloodlines, it will encompass the very world and there is only so much A.M.R.O can do to control the situation. If rogue Alchemists start brawling it out on streets, the secrecy that we have painstakingly maintained will be tarnished and there will be chaos." What the Lost Number was uttering was a known fact, however the fact he was stressing it with such emphasis revealed the high stakes. "As you all know, within the past five years there have been several murders within every Bloodline. Tensions are high and I wouldn't be surprised if they have counter measures already planned, there is a definite possibility things may turn to shit and I have a feeling the Bloodlines have prepared for that. We need to stop the aggravation of this situation and uncover the truth behind those murders. Right now every single Bloodline is a suspect, I would love to hear your opinion regarding this matter?" With that the old man decided to retreat his steps and calmly sit on the floor, leaning against the gate of the Peralta estate.

Joseph was mildly and not unpleasantly surprised by Geko's actions. Despite his initial words he lacked any form of punishment for the two singers. Perhaps the man could work on his discipline, he wasn't sending a good message to the Asylums. He pulled his view away from Rikka at long last and instead focused on the old lost number. He flicked his hand out as if bored and then looked to the mansion they sat before. "Probably the Laos. Too strong, too rich, too secretive. And also smart enough to not flaunt their desires in everyone else's faces like some of the bloodlines."

He sighed, "All the Bloodlines and their fighting amongst themselves like fools. Maybe they see a better future where there's only one Bloodline in AMRO. Maybe two. It would help to have some ... lethally efficient killers on their side to help with the assassinations." his eyes narrowed on the Peralta manse, making it clear who he meant.

"Outsiders." came a deep, gravely voice, as Gris finally spoke up, "Bloodlines hate each other. Make them hate more. Kill for you. Easy victory." The man spoke in short sentences as if the act of speech bored him.

Audrey pulled a face when Geko began striding towards them, but the indignant look she wore immediately turned into one of surprise and mild terror when his forehead flick sent her and An flying several feet back. She didn't have enough time to brace herself for impact and was sent crashing into several bushes, sending leaves and twigs into the air upon impact.

Everything hurt and she had leaves in her mouth her face.

Audrey remained sprawled out in the bushes, barely managing to grumble in response to Geko's ‘threat’. Flinging them across the Peralta estate was one thing, but selling their undergarments? Um, yeah, that had to be the silliest threat ever. Because ew, who would even want to buy that? Asylums had better things to spend their money on, didn't they?

Whatever, her elbows were stinging and she needed a snack. Audrey continued to grumble angrily as Geko asked about bloodlines. It wasn't until a minute later, that she sat up and began hauling herself out of the bushes, too irritated to really do anything besides pluck leaves off of herself, she ignored the ongoing conversation between Joseph, Gris, and their leader and. Still, bits and pieces of what they were saying flew around her head and she scowled, shooting An a look only to see she was unscathed. Personally, Audrey didn't have any guesses, but whoever it was... well, they were going to be in for a smackdown and that was what mattered, right? Right?

Tae finally moved, lunging out to grab An before she hit the ground. Scowling at Geko, she gritted her teeth and prepared to get up and smack him, nevermind their differing prowess and rank. An stopped her with a glance and a shake of her head; best that she not escalate the situation to physical blows. Relatively composed except for a slight shortness of breath from when it was knocked out of her, she gave Geko an appraising glare, her earlier sunny disposition momentarily wiped from her face.

"Wow, I do enjoy being sexually threatened. It's a woman's greatest wish." She deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow as her mouth stretched into a lazy sneer. Her smile became a bit more genuine as she chuckled lightly at Audrey's expression, giving her a small pat.

"B'sides, I think there're better people to spend money on than a lazy lesbian and a small teen."

An gave Tae a glance, to see if she wanted to comment on the bloodlines. Met with a tightly pursed lip and exceptionally dour expression -it was clear she was still miffed about the earlier proceedings- An simply sighed, shrugging nonchalantly.

"T'be honest, I don't think it's that big of a deal. Their infighting is bound to thin their numbers anyways; they're tearing into each other like wolves. Makes them less of a threat to us." She punctuated this with another shrug.

Oliver listened to the conversation attentively and seriously. He plopped down at Rikka's feet and played with the grass. He didn't really like the way Geko pushed the two ladies away. While Rikka was distracted by glaring Joseph down, he laid his head against her leg. Normally, she would push him away, but she was more focused on Geko and Joseph, that it barely affected her. When Jo looked away, Rikka backed down from the staring contest. The ‘primadonna’ nudged Oliver to let him know that she sees what he was doing and was very disappointed with him. The Asylum boy wrapped an arm around her legs and chanted a soft incantation.

A small budding flower sprouted at her feet, ranging from bright blue to a dark purple. He was making attempts to impress her, it was his way of saying that he was practically kissing her feet by putting his flowers in pain. Rikka's face cleared and she plastered on a smile for Oliver. The smile continued as she stomped on the flowers. Oliver sighed and released her legs before laying back on the warm green grass.

Rikka scoffed at rest of the group, "Just pick a group and get it over with. Someone like...the Steins. Call out the pretty boy for the murders."

Oliver yawned and corrected her, "It's just bodies, princess." Grass slowly grew around him. The spell he placed on the flowers was spreading to the grass with no real threat, "Steins would have disfigured their bodies to the point that they aren't recognizable. Besides.." He plucked a stray petal near his hand, "..I think the bodies would still be useful as cadavers."

"Whatever," She took a step away from Oliver and was quick to drop down on the ground. She laid her elbows on Oliver stomach and would occasionally dig into his guts. Oliver let out a silent laugh, he found her actions strangely cute. She went on with her accusations, "Accuse the family with no casualties."

"I don't think they would be stupid enough to not kill their own while they did it. Emotionally painful, yes. Any direct suspicions? Nope. The perp probably wants to frame someone."

Rikka snorted at that, "It's probably my daddy. He has enough money and the resources to do it." She flipped her long hair behind her shoulder and simpered at the fact that she even brought it up, "I'm just joking, of course."

"Why is it, the bear seems smarter than you lot? I personally hope it's not a third party.....our job will become much harder." Geko teased, his eyes bouncing from one Asylum to another until finally resting his sight at the cloudless sky above them.

"Try to remember, bravery gets you killed. Fear is an ally and it can keep you alive." These words didn't possess the same playful nature associated with the Lost Numbers' tone. His words were heavy with the weight of their implication and his tone resonated with a sense of dread, all enhanced by the old man's grim stare.

"Some exercise is what we need!" He exclaimed, realizing they have had enough of all the 'gloom and doom'. Among Asylums, sparring was perhaps the most common means of preperation before a mission or venting frustration/unease. "Let us set some interesting rules," the old man sneered as the cogs of perversion began to regain their motion within his mind.

"The first rule is no alchemy and no weapons," he nodded to himself, thinking it is better no one get eviscerated or beheaded. "And the second rule is, upon each successful hit you strip a piece of clothing." With these words the lecherous lizard assumed his stance, preferring the defensive nature of Tai'chi. Despite his position as one of the greatest killers in A.M.R.O, Geko was equally infamous for being a softy when it came to his subordinates.

At the offer of sparring it was Gris who first stepped up. Unlike most of the others he only wore a pair of shorts with boxers beneath. So it was probably going to be a quick fight. Unfortunately for Geko's perverted little plan the man had no issues with getting nude in front of a group. And he also lacked the particular parts of the body Geko would want exposed. The man lifted up his hands and cracked the knuckles of both, then rolled his neck loosening it up.

And then the round began. Gris bounced off his knees and took off at a sprint towards Geko. He showed no signs of slowing his approach or making a traditional attack. Instead, a few feet from his foe, Gris jumped. He head curled forward as his body rolled forward. If Geko didn't move the man's giant back would slam into him. If he dodged the force of the leap would carry Gris past his foe and let him turn his leap into a roll, springing back up onto his feet on the opposite side, spinning to keep his face on Geko.

An had started tuning Geko out, no longer interested in the conversation, and missed the brief second of tension as she tried to calm Tae down. Hearing his next words, An smirked, giving Tae a suggestive glance as she wiggled her.

"A strip sparring match, Tae. Isn't that right up your alley?" She crooned, running a finger up her arm, leaning in to whisper something in her ear and laughing when Tae choked on her own spit in surprise and embarrassment.

"Jesus, An, there are children here." Tae croaked hoarsely, giving Audrey a faintly apologetic glance.

"B'sides." She huffed, crossing her arms and scowling in a petulant and surprisingly childish manner. "I'm not participating in any of his little activities."

Punctuating her sentence with a barely contained grimace of disgust, she raised an eyebrow and turned her head slightly, to face An head on.

"C'Mon, An. You aren't going to fool around with this sort of thing, right? It's demeaning and insulting."

An blinked, pausing for a second, before turning to Audrey and grabbing her hand, making sure not to tug too hard.

"Let's do some strip sparring, Audrey! I'm sure it'll be fun." An piped out, leading Audrey a little ways away and giving her a sly wink, distancing herself slightly before getting into a lax, slightly incorrect karate pose. Tae stared daggers at Audrey from her spot on the grass as she ripped at the grass around her and absentmindedly shredded the blades.

Talk about the bloodlines came to an end when Geko suggested they spar for a bit, and Audrey arched an eyebrow in response to his rather interesting set of conditions.

No weapons or alchemy? Well, shit. She was the freaking runt of the litter. Not like it mattered too much though, if they knocked her down, she'd get right back up. And if she lost, well, wasn't like she'd be dead so yeah, bring it. She was born ready!

Or at least... until Geko stated the next set of conditions.

Audrey's expression practically screamed irritated and uncomfortable, and said expression was deepened when she heard Tae refer to her as a child. Excuse you, she was 18 not 12! I'm not a kid, Audrey almost spat, but before she could say anything, An reached for her hand and began tugging her away from the cluster of Asylums on the grass.

Audrey turned beet red at the suggestion and turned an even darker shade of red when she noticed Tae seemed to be glowering at her. This was far from her idea of fun.

"Oh wait! I think I hear someone calling us! Oh, what? My noodles are burning? Right, can't let good food go to waste!" And yeah... she wasn't fooling anyone with that. She was just going to have to make sure she dodged An's hits. Still somewhat flustered, Audrey cracked her knuckles before sliding into a more defensive stance. "Fine."

Her initial plan was to wait it out and remain on the defensive, but being as impatient as she was though, Audrey propelled herself forward the moment An decided to stay put and wait. The girl kicked up grass as she barreled towards her opponent with a fist raised in preparation for a left hook.

"Jesus!" An yelped, still slightly caught off guard as she messily raised her arm to parry Audrey's fist. She was a split second too late for a clean block, and Audrey's fist grazed her on the shoulder.

A sudden flash of alarm crossed An's face as she remembered that she was still wearing her bodysuit. Her not very pliable, not very fist friendly bodysuit.

"Oh g- wait! Audrey wait a minute I gotta- let's just count this as my first 'strip', mkay?"

An's voice went from faintly panicked to slightly suggestive at the drop of a hat as she danced backwards, holding her arms out to try and stop Audrey from advancing while positively smirking at the younger girl -although her gaze did flick over to Tae, who had resolutely turned away.

"Hey, Geko, do bodysuits count as weapons?" An called out.

As expected, the first one to go on the offensive was Gris, the carnivorous teddy. Despite watching the bear like human charge him, Geko found no reason to evade such a brutal and basic attack. In terms of hand to hand there were very few who possessed the skill to best the Lizard, this was not due to Geko's overwhelming power but his cunning and maneuverability as well as his vast knowledge on a multitude of martial arts. If that didn't boast his level of prowess, his portfolio was one that often put Chronos to shame. In A.M.R.O's history, Geko has been the only Lost Number to survive to his fifties. He has accomplished five hundred 'registered' assassinations, was granted the newly coined title of 'the thirteenth Lost Number', allowing him the freedom to chose to be partnered with any Chrono he wishes and is among the select few who have successfully created a new form of alchemy.

"You think a head on attack will phase me, boy?" The Lizard scoffed arrogantly as he calmly shifted his stance to 'Judo' the art of parrying and grappling. "You won't even be able to touch me with such a basic and mindless charge," Geko teased some more as he calmly observed the titan's charge.

"Hey, Geko, do bodysuits count as weapons?"

As soon as An spoke these words, the lecherous Lost Number couldn't help but shift his ogling eyes to face the woman. "Yes!" He, almost adamantly, expressed while scratching his stubble to gauge the freckled Asylum's 'goods'. "And since your clothes are attached to the bodysuit, it is completely logical for you to fight naked!" Geko spoke, his finger pointing towards An, as if accusing her of cheating and for her to take responsibility by stripping.

"Come on, let those melons fr-" Before Geko could complete his sentence a realization suddenly popped into his mind, his head instantly flipping to face forward. "Shit, I forgot about him!" The old man suddenly screamed, attempting to regain his stance only to be hit by the burly giant's back. The sheer force of the attack dragged Geko away, the breath being knocked out of his lungs as his feet dragged across the dirt in an attempt to reduce to force just enough.

"Hey big boy, we shall keep this a secret. If my students find out the master of evasion was hit by something like this, well I will be the but of the joke," he bargained with the bear as both his arms tightly clasped around the man's waist to form an ironic, bear hug.

"In return i'll make sure that this doesn't cause any brain damage," he continued, before suddenly tilting his own back, capitalizing on Gris's own force in order to make lifting him relatively less taxing.

"Geko special suplex!" The old man screamed as he flung the burly Asylum behind him, Gris's head greeting the soggy ground with enough force to form a miniature crater. "Fuck, I am going to be sore tomorrow," Geko groaned while lying on the floor, his lungs working double time in order to recoup from the collision.

"I still need to see those melons...." He muttered in between his groans, slowly crawling towards the tantalizing women in front of him. "You have given me no choice, I have no choice but to use it!" The lizard whispered sinisterly as he regained his stance, ”You women should have simply succumbed and stripped, but now you will feel my wrath!" There was something frightening about the veteran, it was as if he had dropped all the silly facade of being nothing but a lecherous pervert. If these women knew the real Geko, they would shiver and realize how foolish they are to think he is anything but.....anything but a pervert.

"Geko special alchemy, 'PANTY STEAL!" The Lost Number's voice resonated, activating his alchemic drive causing all the women around him to experience a strange phenomenon that could be best described as their panties beginning to teleport away.

"This is my true power, my ability to make panties bend to my wi-" Before the lizard could complete his sentence and his alchemy, a relatively large pebble appeared to strike against his temple, knocking him the fuck out.

"You disgusting old fuck!" A voice screamed out from a distance, tracing it they could see the rest of the party. The ship had finally arrived and the remaining Asylums were slowly approaching the 'Peralta gate' while escorting the various Bloodlines. Team Ante Mortem appeared to be walking far behind the rest while Ying was in front of all others, in her hands several pebbles.