Collaboration by Ruby, Lightning Fast, and FiberThere was little time to do much of anything. Yanci spent most of her time on the phone, shrugging off Hollywood responsibility to ghouls and trusted mortals. One of those ghouls got most of the redirection sent their way, the one Eva had him ritualize before for protection. All he overheard was plans for a great reveal; some message about the Kindred, some shattering of the Masquerade. Andre spent his time on encrypted channels and having Mihail bring up maps on a secured laptop; the Sabbat was washing over San Diego and making short work of what was left of Tara's people. Andre's people controlled NAS North Island, Oceanside, and Camp Pendleton. Most of LAX was under direct control between Rachel's people and Andre's people; all of them, really, Eva's people.
Mihail was exhausted, burdened by the biological functions which his new compatriots could ignore as he groggily flipped through various computer screens. He wasn’t sure if he technically qualified as a member of said “coterie”, or one of Eva’s “people”, or whatever it was called. He had certain biological limitations others in the coterie didn’t--namely the need to sleep and eat. Mihail had the ability to easily fall asleep in any moving vehicle--something he readily took advantage of every time Eva saw fit to zip her crew rapidly from one location to another. He and Andre had established somewhat of a rapport, and while Mihail was still far too suspicious of any Kindered to consider them a friend, “cordial coworkers” was a start. The rest of them, though? Mihail knew deep down his greatest use to them was an emergency food source, and as such, he kept the rest at a distance.
The Sabbat had stopped outside the Inland Empire area, and stopped dead outside the Pendleton controlled area along the coast. No one seemed certain as to why, thinking between the PMC centered in Riverside and patrolling the Inland Empire, and the US Military infiltrated by Andre's people controlling Pendleton the Sabbat just wasn't ready to start that fight yet. Fighting Tara was one thing. Fighting Andre was a completely different matter. Yanci still seemed convinced, somehow, the mysterious Cicatriz was involved in the Sabbat's stop.
But none of them had heard anything about the Sabbat Cardinal since Eva was taken before her chance to meet with him.
Rachel went through a spreadsheet of important contacts; humans, ghouls, Kindred, and more. Maty watched her work in near awe. She was like a Regent working through the kind of Ritual that would mean disaster and worse for most Tremere. She was a master of her element, and there were few sights as captivating as watching a soul truly in their element. Captivation, however, had it's limits. His feet shuffled him through the vaults of the Hollywood Hills estate and to the inner private Chantry. The Los Angeles Chantry was destroyed, but the fledgling group of Tremere that Eva had protected and funded when most others left after the old Chantry's destruction had put their minds to rebuilding. Given Eva's resources, the process was time-consuming, but possible.
It was one of the few secure locations that held a portion of their supply of what the group was simply calling, 'The Blood.' Eva's blood had been slowly collected in small doses since her return from torpor, since she was convinced she would be a focal point in the hope against Gehenna. Maty thought the woman suffered from 'Main Character' syndrome for the longest time...until it all started to become real. The reality of the end of all things could certainly change perspective, and few perspectives had been changed as much as his within their group. Before he was an outsider among the insiders; he loved Eva as a mind and a soul. She was giving, she was interesting, she was driven, she was accomplished. These could all be rare things in the Kindred world. They had been all but unheard of in the Camarilla world of Houston, Texas.
The feeding, the intimacy, the sense of companionship among their group was more intense than anything Maty had experienced even within the heavily insulated world of the Tremere. It took him time to warm up to it, and he'd admit his background of sadness while focusing on preparation for certain rituals related to Eva's abduction. It was a bitter pill; they should have seen it coming, he was convinced. According to Andre and Mihail, Eva had shrugged off their protection. She would be dealing with a single Kindred, no need for a small army, was her logic so it seemed. They should have known there was already attention on her. That it came in the form of not Kindred, but Mages...somehow made Maty less comfortable. Lubbock they could contend with. The Technocracy? It was a different matter in Maty's mind, and he knew more about their group than most Kindred, given the primary focus of the Digital Draculas had been the Second Inquisition. They'd been working on intel for a long time.
And then, in their own city, she was taken.
The presence of Yanci came faster than he expected. Despite the progress made, that it was time came as a surprise. Returning to the basement of the Hollywood Hills estate, climbing the stairs flooded with the light of light fixtures and the sound of running water from the wall affixed 'waterfall' feature, he wished he had been more surprised to see them in the kitchen. All of them, save the newest addition, were Kindred--yet they spent as much time in the kitchen talking as most mortals seemed to do. At least, on TV.
Andre was arguing for staging their men in the tunnels of the Getty Center; a lesser known feature of the art complex, the underground tunnels that connected all the buildings to allow the safe movement of treasured art and staff. Yanci was dismissing the notion. Both had their logic; Andre was operating under the assumption that they were under attack at all times, now. Yanci didn't disagree with that, rather her logic was rooted in the belief that were was no way Eva would have taken a small army to meet someone they considered a friend, especially during such a tense time. They had all seen Grace's return text, Rachel had showed them. That the Technocracy agent that had met them on a private yacht just days before was now demanding a public meeting...it was a sign of distrust the Coterie couldn't ignore.
The two got more and more entrenched, passionate in their points of view. Rachel saw Maty approach and gave a wry smile.
"Fight?"
"Fight."
"Outside?"
"Outside."
Rachel tapped Mihail's shoulder and motioned with her head; an invitation for him to follow. Or he could stay and join his voice and opinion into the discussion. Rachel, despite her absolutely central and leading role in the operations of Eva's empire, was usually happy to just skate on out on the 'disagreements' between Andre and Yanci. Without Eva's presence to calm heads and slow things down, it only got louder, faster, leading the two quiet and less serious ones in the group to often escape.
Fight? Fight. Escape Location? Escape Location. It was more than just a running bit for Rachel and Maty.
Mihail did in fact follow, although it seemed more a means to get some fresh air than anything. He looked ill--nowhere near enough sleep, as even when he got the opportunity to rest his eyes, he was tormented by nightmares of antediluvian monsters and massive pools of blood. He had been told that Hunters were occasionally plagued with prophetic dreams, but he dismissed these. Perhaps because denial was better than facing the truths which these dreams foretold of.
The helicopter was already on the front lawn, leading the pair to approach. The pilot was named Tom; an older Caucasian who liked sailing, cooking, and his longtime girlfriend. A lady he had met through, no surprise, Eva. Tom knew something was different about their group, but his mind truly lacked interest in the intrigue to dive much further. He'd spent a lot of hours talking one-on-one with Eva as he'd transported her around California over the years. Outside of the dock worker Keith, few mortals had spent as much time and conversation with Eva. Eva did like her mortal friendships, Rachel remarked as Tom climbed out wearing a white button up, khaki slacks, hiking boots, and silver aviators, his skin red from the sun and his short blonde hair over-indulged in hair gel.
He smelled like Old Spice. Maty kinda liked it.
"Hey Rachel, Maty. Ms. Eva coming out in a few?"
Rachel's unmoving facial features were, more often than not, a blessing in moments like this. "She's away on a business trip. Just the rest of the entourage tonight, Tom. Getty knows we're coming?"
"Yup, I already have our landing reserved. The pad is ours until you all are done and ready to leave, like Caroline requested."
Maty had forgotten; most people in Los Angeles still knew Yanci as 'Caroline', or 'Carolina.' The name predated both Rachel and himself, they had never thought to ask Yanci or Andre or Eva. The others emerged from the front of the modernist luxury home, paths and drives and trees bathed in exterior 'up-lighting' as the warm winds of Los Angeles washed the scene over in the sound of the plant life rustling in the wind. Tom smiled and waves, making a comment about the super tall guy, and opening the cabin door before retreating to the pilot's seat. With the wind, Maty knew from experience, Tom wouldn't start the engines until everyone was inside. Something about prior accidents with wind and blades.
"We agreed on support helos," Andre announced as they reached the awaiting air vehicle. The interior of the helicopter was royal blue carpeting and grey leather seats. One side was were bucket 'captain' seats, and the opposite seat were closer to bench seating. Rachel and Maty were first in, taking the bench seating side, Andre and Yanci followed; each of them had a good grin at Yanci telling Mihail, "Go ahead, the last seat is yours, Rachel and Maty will huggle together on the other side so your feet have their own seat across from you."
Mihail did not appreciate the joke, but did his best to hide his displeasure.
It was a tease, though it wasn't untrue, it's exactly what happened. Rachel and Yanci talked about the Creep briefly. He was around, they knew he was, he was leaving messages. That's about as much as either of them wanted to say on the matter. Andre reported three gunship helos were in the skies and would stay at a reasonable distance to Getty so that they'd appear as little more than green and red lights unless they were called in. Rachel started to ask about their armaments before decided she'd rather not know. Yanci announced the benefit concert for Wildfire Recovery was already in full swing, but taking place in a different section of Getty.
There was a small security team awaiting them. They wore suits, but their size and demeanor were easy tips that these were Andre's people. That and the red striped clips to the SMGs they carried; not exactly normal high class function security weapons. Maty still wore black blazer over a simple white untucked linen shirt, with tight black jeans and tall black leather boots, a variety of odd necklaces and bracelets worn. Rachel never changed from the plum slim fit business slacks, plum heels, and blush pink colored sleeveless button blouse she'd been wearing earlier. Yanci had changed; red pointed heels, stone washed tight and high waisted slim fit jeans, and a black, long sleeve, tight fitted turtleneck top, a dazzling silver chained, diamond studded, necklace over it. Andre had stayed in his black loose fit jeans, black Adidas Classics, and grey short sleeved button up. A simple silver 'LA' hanging off a simple silver chain around his neck. One of his men handed him a Glock, said something about 'effective' ammo, and then they were off.
They were left waiting as they arrived at the South Terrace and
Cardinale Seduto's statue. Maty and Rachel took seats at the nearby black metal chairs and tables of the seating area right next to the Cardinal, while the others stood closer to the statue, and watched the night sky, and the City of Angels.
In all of her life, very few messages had hit Grace as hard as the one Rachel sent. The anxiety felt like a semi-truck sitting on her chest, and it stayed with her all through planning the meet up. This was something she would have to do quietly, leaving as little trace for her superiors as she could. Logic suggested that if the Technocracy did indeed take Eva without telling her, they had their reasons for keeping her out of the loop, and directly asking about it could raise further suspicions, as would talking to them about trying to set up a meeting with Eva’s people. She would go to the meeting alone, without backup, being glad that at least it could happen in public place, a fact that also would give her plausible deniability about why she was there.
Grace arrived at the Getty Center via a rideshare, one that operated as a self-driving testbed; it would leave less evidence after a quick wipe of the logs and reduced the possibility that she was being tailed, but this meant that she would only have what she could carry on her person. As she walked into the door and flashed some event tickets identifying her as Mrs Kim, a Chaebol-connected financier with just enough of a digital presence to appear real but not enough to have any distinctive characteristics. She walked through the cavernous interior of the Getty, just another face in the crowd, dressed in her usual dull business suit and long black coat.
She found the South Terrace less populated, unsure if it was even open to the public; if it was, security had either not seen her or decided to let her pass. As she walked out she contemplated that this meeting (assuming the meeting was even happening and not a pretense for something else) would be different from the last; she was here in the flesh, no remote operated synthetic humans or other tricks to avoid the risk of meeting in person. That terrified her, but even if she found a way to use one of those without leaving too much of a trail, doing it this way was a powerful signal of trust. Trust was exactly the thing they needed if they were going to stop what looked to be a world ending event on the horizon. On the South Terrace she saw the whole group of regulars, minus Eva, an indication that Rachel’s panic was likely genuine Grace stood in the darkness, staring at the Los Angeles skyline behind her darkened shades, using other senses to make up for the lack of light, unable to think which of the many things she could say was best. Perhaps a lighter option was best. Seeing that some were seated and others were standing, she said “Seems like there aren’t enough chairs for everyone. Maybe you could ask him to move.” as she pointed at Cardinale Seduto.
Andre side-eyed the statue next to him as he leaned against the railing, his low voice in an easy tone, "Sitting up on a platform...not really our style."
Maty and Rachel waved from their seats at one of the many tables location near the statue, each of their phones on the table as one pointed something out to another; at the moment they were swapping names of journalists and government officials they thought might be receptive, helpful, or at the very least assist in getting something done. Yanci's body bounced from the railing she had leaned into and made a few steps towards Grace as the woman approached. Maty hadn't seen Yanci smile so brightly, with brown eyes sparkling so warmly, in days.
She feels vindicated, Maty thought. A quick look to his left, to Rachel, and her eyes seemed to confirm his suspicion towards Yanci's charismatic glow. Grace was a friend. They could all breath a little sigh of relief. For some reason, Andre's remark made Maty think of the last true Camarilla Prince of Los Angeles. A true tosser, that one. Maty was tapped on the arm by Rachel, standing with her and drifting over towards the statue, to join their little huddle of minds and supernaturals.
"Thanks for coming, Grace."
Yanci's tone was as warm as her smile, even if an edge undercut it--she was still nervous about something. Eva? The Creep? The Sabbat? The Inquisition? Lubbock? The list was too long for Maty's comfort, as well. Maybe, just maybe, some part of him was glad to know there were support helicopters in the sky just minutes away from them if things went badly. Not that it was any kind of guarantee, the Tremere supposed. "
"I was able to reach out to her, even if telepathically, and even if it was brief and a little muffled. Your people definitely have her, although she was certain she wasn't in danger. She was...comfortable? Relieved? It was hard to read her well so quickly, but the news could have been much worse. And outside that...it does get a bit worse."
"The Sabbat overtook San Diego, they were heading up the coast when they stopped short of the start of LA's greater metro area, and along the coast they stopped outside Pendleton. We don't know why. I think," Andre dipped his head to the left, his tone taking on a slight emphasis on the word 'I', making it plain the whole group didn't share his opinion, "they don't want to tangle with us. Every street gang, every merc, every rifle anywhere near LA County is ours. We've spent hundreds of millions over the last thirty years on this, and it seems to be helping."
"...or it could be the Sabbat Cardinal that was leading the push against San Diego, Cicatriz. The one we mentioned last time." Rachel's eyes darted to Yanci for a moment as she paused, before continuing, "Except Eva never met the Cardinal before your faction abducted her. Every Camarilla contact I have is blowing up my phone about Eva and her blood. The few Sabbat I have contact with are doing the same. They're freaked out. India didn't go the way they had thought it would."
"Antediluvians don't give a shit about you other than to use you as a power up snack, go figure," it was dry, sarcastic, and Maty just couldn't help himself from adding it between Rachel's explanation.
"Point is we don't have a fucking clue why they stopped, but they stopped." Andre almost seemed to sigh to Maty, almost, noteworthy to Maty's ears only because Andre almost never sighed.
"And now every Kindred faction is all about Eva. I..." Yanci paused for a moment, her eyes set on Grace's, as if this was the hard part for her, "When I reached out to find Eva, I did so through Blood and minds. I wasn't careful. I wasn't sneaky. I was desperate. Most ancient Kindred probably noticed. I'm sorry, because we've heard Kindred are starting to look at sites that might belong to your people for her. They're really desperate to get their hands on Eva, and all for their own selfish reasons. If it helps I really don't think she's in LA."
Grace shifted a little, pacing back and forth. Following the terms they threw around was hard, she had read the book of Nod once long ago and had a general knowledge of kindred politics, but didn’t always grasp all the peculiarities of each group they mentioned. She decided to keep focus on the matter at hand. “I don’t know where Eva is, but I’m glad she is reasonably safe at the moment, and can confirm she isn’t in Los Angeles. There’s nowhere suitable for her in here. Unfortunately, that leaves many, many possibilities. Too many for anyone to check in a reasonable amount of time. I still have not been given any official information about the operation that grabbed her, and I haven’t brought it up because it would let them know that I know something I’m not supposed to. Is there anything more you can tell me? Did you see any of those involved in her abduction?”
Mihail finally spoke up: “There was the...” he paused, snapping his fingers in frustration “... what is the English word? The spider-lady. Tzimisce, with bones sticking out everywhere.” He shared a knowing glance with Andre. “Very afraid of fire. She told me I was marked, that she’d drink my soul, torture me to death...” He looked around at his present company, trying not to choose language that would offend them. “... Just like the vampires in Romania. For as powerful as she was, she seemed fairly easy to scare off. I assume the rest of you are not equally fearful of fire. Or at least I hope not, since, well...” The basketballer snapped his fingers, causing several sparks to shoot out. A few embers danced around in his hand before vanishing as quickly as they’d appeared.
“Yeah she liked to bullshit,” Andre’s voice was a low, sardonic, humored half chuckle as he stepped within a few feet of the hunter and, with a knowing look to the Technocracy mage that lingered without a hint of edge or anger as a non-verbal cue of no threat intended, returned his eyes to the hunter before retrieving the Glock 19 from his back holster and released the clip into the palm of his non-dominant left palm that awaited just underneath the clip. A clip with a red stripe. His gaze was business now, his tone more serious, the gravity of the bond between fellow combatants in his eyes as he stared into Mihail’s eyes, “you see red on our clips that means incendiary. Fire fucks us up, even Kindred warriors like a Brujah war veteran don’t like getting hit with these none. But we trust you, Mihail, same way you trust us. If it’s not a Kindred here in this circle right now? You use that fire, my dude.”
“I guess I just didn’t expect her to run so quickly. She might’ve killed me if she hadn’t, though, so it’s for the best.” Mihail extinguished the flames, his fears abated somewhat by Andre.
Click, the sound of the clip returning to it’s locked position within the handle of the Glock19, casually returned to its holster as Andre looked again at Grace, “I saw the motherfucker. Black armor, angled gauntlets, narrow visor with green light, two insignia on the helmet; NASA, the other like a military patch. Five pointed star within a pentagon, white, within a star with eight points, patch was like an arrow shape. I didn’t attack because she didn’t want me to. She was in my head, begging me not to, reminding me what we stood for. That’s the only reason I didn’t berserk when my leader was stolen from right in front of my eyes.”
Brown eyes smoldered on a face hardlined with having seen more war and combat than most souls ever did, dark brown skin all but snorting as he took a breath, and returned his eyes to the sight of Los Angeles in the distance all around them. And the red and green lights of helos of his brothers, and her men. “Understand there’s a literal army of very fucking lethal individuals that don’t know the top of their chain of command isn’t where she’s supposed to be. Then understand, Grace, I can’t tell you how long I can keep that fact from them. This isn’t a normal private military kinda thing. They swear blood oaths, bonded by a shared pain, by a shared blood, and above all a cult like reverence of that woman. Pretty soon that’ll turn into a very ugly situation that won’t leave any doubt about the presence of Kindred, or our dominion of Southern California.”
“We have to find her,” Yanci sighed, summing up Andre’s ‘or else’ situation matter-of-factly, without the hint of edge that was in Andre’s voice, “we have to find her soon. Maty has a ritual that he’s prepared that can take him and…”
Yanci looked over to Maty, who looked to Rachel, then back to Yanci, as he considered the words Yanci waited to hear, “...one more. Maybe, maybe a second, but likely just myself and another.”
“You tell us, Grace,” Yanci continued, “what’s our next step? Do we let Maty do that? Do we trust your people? Or do we start to turn Southern California into a literal warzone?”
“Seems like Genhanna is going to turn it into a warzone anyways,” Mihail retorted, “Maybe not for you, but for us. I only survived my first vampire attack because I got lucky, and that was just a neophyte.”
Some of the words Andre said made her want to talk about the pitfalls of charismatic authority when compared with the rational-legal authority, but she could see that they were not in the mood to discuss Max Weber right now. “I want to help you. Believe me, I don’t want things spiraling any more out of control, and I want to find out what’s going on too. Based on the insignia, what you saw was a Void Engineer. They explore the universe, they’re masters of the dimensional science, and fascinated by any anomalies. I find them interesting, but a little too freewheeling. I don’t know what they’re doing here, but I think I might know which one you saw. Between the description, the abilities you described, and the ones I know are active in the American Southwest”
“That sounds like-.” She seized up, something inside her screaming STOP. Grace continued on “Anderson, STS-107” Now she had a splitting headache. This was her indoctrination at work, crude mental programming that couldn’t understand the importance of the present circumstances. All it knew was that she was about to give out serious classified information without authorization, and that it could not allow that to happen. “Doesn’t like above ground…”
Her head was pounding. She could feel the blood in her vessels pumping harder and harder, her vision going blurry. There was a screeching sound in her head, commanding her to stop. Grace spoke again, ignoring it, her voice growing hoarse:
“He’d be at… Eva would be at…” She trailed off, now just speaking in single phrases. He throughts were scattered, the most direct words failing, and she was only able to come up with oblique references. “Skylab incident. Colby memo.” She doubled over, clutching her head. When she tried to speak again no words would come out, just a groan. It was at its strongest now, the whole world fading in and out while her mind warred with itself. She had seen this before in others, but it was the first time she could remember having a reaction this strong. Her own indoctrination must have been particularly strong, strange for someone who had an impeccable history of loyalty to the cause. Blood was seeping from her nose, she slumped down to the floor. On her hands and knees, still too weak to speak, she began to write something on the floor in her blood, the letters XTA
Mihail, panicking, was the first to reach down to help Grace. “What is this, what is happening?” He was far less concerned about the message on the floor than the woman who had spontaneously begun to bleed out in front of him, “Who did this?”
"MATY." Yanci was on one knee and by Grace's side half a heartbeat after the woman dropped, her nearest arm protective around the woman's shoulders as her eyes went back to Maty. "I'll try Auspex, you do your magic thing."
Maty was there in a few seconds, touching Mihail's shoulder and motioning for the tall man to rise, "That's magic, Mihail. Let's see if the Path of Blood can tell me anything more..." His voice was flat, sounding distantly curious, but otherwise unexcited. There was more to it than that, but that's just how the Tremere came across in the moment. Maty knelt down beside the two, fingertips of his right hand reaching out and down and brushing across the surface of drips of the woman's blood, careful not to distress her written message. Long, perfectly straight, black hair fell over his shoulder as he knelt and studied it. "What have you got, Yanci?"
Yanci wasn't Eva when it came to Auspex, but she wasn't that far behind. Of all the training and skills and disciplines that Yanci had spent the most nights and dedication upon, Auspex was primary. "Grace is trying to force a message through...something."
Maty whipped his head up, long black hair flying behind his shoulders and out of his face as he looked up to the others, a firm certainty in his eyes. "It's a magical firewall. If one of them tries to say something they shouldn't, or maybe something they're not cleared by someone higher in their food chain to say given the nature of their organization, it seems to kick in."
Rachel, not for the first time in both her life and unlife, was staring at her phone at the right time. "Uh, uh...XTA acronyms...Extended Terminal Access, X-Ray Telescope Assembly, Extra-Terrestial, Extended Attachment--"
"Wait," Yanci jumped in, eyes perking at the Ventrue with the phone. "Go back."
Rachel blinked up at her, "Extended Attachment?"
"No, the one before. I remember something from Eva’s mind when I found her. Hold on." Her fingers touched with Celerity at rapid speeds, bringing up her own smartphone and blurring over the touchscreen, brown eyes intent upon the results. "That's it. Related to Extra-Terrestrial, kinda. XTA is the airport code for Homey Airport, otherwise known as Area 51."
"It fits what we know about them," Maty thought, aloud, "embedded within government facilities. If you wanted to take her somewhere no Kindred was going to get to her--"
"--you'd take her there."
If she wasn't Kindred, Rachel would have turned white, her brown eyes snapped wide as the information on her smartphone screen left her stunned. "Anderson STS-107...Astronaut Michael P. Anderson, STS-107 payload commander."
"Died in the Columbia Disaster," Andre recalled, immediately. He had a thing for failed missions with lives lost, especially those with such high profiles.
Rachel just stared at him. "Are you still so sure he died?"
A slightly slurred, slightly muffled voice sounded from the shadow of the nearest building of the Getty Center. It was a shadow within a shadow, dressed in a black overcoat and reed thin, head covered with the hood of a tattered black hooded sweatshirt hood, just ten feet away from the chairs and fifteen from the statue they all stood, and crouched, next to. "That explains why she isn't in the city."
Andre had the Glock 19 drawn in the blink of an eye, the figure unmoved by the sight. The slur and muffle of the voice came from large, gnarled fanged teeth on an alabaster lined and bruised and scabbed face. It was ugly, it had the red eyes of a feral rat. Andre didn't lower the weapon, even as he realized what, or rather who, it was. "Stalking us 'cause your creepy ass couldn't find her?"
The Nosferatu just stared, eyes fixated on the ground next to Andre. On Yanci, on Grace...on the blood, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the air, taking in the scent. "They come. You should all move."
"Who comes?" Andre demanded, sounding close to angry, but the Nosferatu cackled a deranged laugh, tone pitching high as if it was simply tickled by Andre's anger. The Glock never fired, even as the shadow-covered Nosferatu disappeared through the door it stood next to, red eyes staring a hole through Yanci as the door closed and shut off the line of sight between the two. "Creep ass mothaf--"
"--we have to go. Grace, can you move?" Yanci felt her skin crawl, her mind wanting to crawl into the memory of the night they banished Nathaniel; the night the Nosferatu attacked her in lust and rage and psychopathic violence. Some nights she still felt Nathaniel ripping into her, but they didn't have time. "Andre, call them in. Grace?"
Mihail was still trying to snap Grace out of her injured state, and as the unknown assailant honed in on their location, he panicked. Rather than wait for Grace’s reply, Mihail lifted her over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Grace,” he whispered, before igniting his free hand.
Grace was awake once Mihail picked her up, she decided to let him carry her as she wasn’t sure how much weight her legs could support, but it was getting better. Indoctrination had a tendency of attacking every neuron at once, difficult to tell which ones were most affected. She could infer that they had been able to figure out her clues by the pieces of the conversation she had picked up, it was a relief that she wouldn’t have to delve deeper into that territory. “I’m, I’m doing better now. Probably should avoid certain topics for the moment, at least giving direct information. You have another place to go?”, she asked, realizing that she had no choice but to put a lot of trust in them.
"Holster it, Human Torch," Yanci helped see Grace upon Mihail's back before listening to Andre finish giving the order. The sound of helicopters started to get loud, and Andre nodded to her, gun still out. "Who do you think?"
"Report is lots of vehicles and people coming up to the front. Whoever they are, they're about to get a hell of a shock when gunships open up on their ass from above. Getty staff is getting event goers to emergency exits. Won’t be no covering up or suppressing this." Andre had the right of it, and Yanci simply nodded. "Let's go back to the helicopter. Inside, through the tunnels. We're heading to the Island, Grace."
High Moon
AlteredTundra
fledermaus
LadyRunic
Crimson Flame
Theyra
Zweit
pandapolio
