(( Victor and Melody stuff written with Noct's go-ahead, same with the Aurelia flavor stuff. Horace and Atomos stuff written with Wilson and Salt. ))
Catalina had remained calm during all this, not betraying the emotions that the mention of Atomos had provoked, as she gave a nod. "She had visited here a few times, on good terms. But the last visit from her was over two weeks ago, about two and a half. Last intel we found suggested she was scouting farther north, into Maine. If she hasn't come back after this time, I...while I hope she made it out unscathed, that you haven't heard back from her either would confirm our suspicions. I'm sorry." she said.
It was a half-truth and she knew it. Going on that mission, which Catalina blamed herself for allowing, was ultimately to blame for this. But who Atomos was, and why she went there, wasn't something the Smoke Marshals needed to know.
Elsewhere in the center, for the first time since the cataclysm started, what remained of American and Canadian forces had a proper meeting. A discussion of plans. There was tension in the air, excitement as well. But certainly tension, owing to the aura of unease the bishop seemed to radiate, and the unnatural circumstances behind their general's condition.
Some things became apparent quickly enough. That General Kringle was called such due to being the highest-ranking officer available. Colonel Adrian Luther had fallen into a similar situation. The difference was that the forces he had at his disposal had been nowhere near large enough to warrant acting as a general. Even as the manpower available to him grew and organized structure returned, the official rank had stuck through sheer inertia.
A sense of their mutual plans became apparent, and the Canadians intel confirmed early suspicions, ones strengthened by word from the caravans had been out west. It had been a recorded message, picked up by a handful of installations that had too many problems of their own to deal with. Of the few present for the discussion, the colonel had taken particular notice of the lieutenant who handed the recording over, the patches on the RCN uniform unfamiliar in ways that now stood out, carrying the same ominous weight as the atom design of Larion and Catalina's patches, or the celtic cross of SPD-VIII.
My fellow Americans. No, more than that. To all of humanity that may receive this message. I will keep the remainder of this message as brief as I can.
By the time this message is received, I will most likely be dead. Know that I died fighting, alongside the men and women here with me. I am hopeful that this final mission will contain the worst threat to come out of these portals. Might as well end with at least one success...
From there, a plan was devised for the joint operation that would be needed to secure the route through Maine, and after all the stress of their journey, what ensued was a well-earned discussion of the day's remaining plans in the center's cafeteria.
As Helen and Victor relaxed over tea, they recounted the day's experiences. Helen admitted to Victor about the spirit she encountered in rescuing, of effectively just picking up, Isaac. She didn't explain what she had to do, realizing that there were elements of it that would hit close to home. Only that it had intervened in the affairs of whoever caused it.
She also mentioned the problem with Sharlene and the construct that had been assigned to her, in less than flattering terms. She had her suspicions and concerns, but despite the vitriol towards Sharlene she knew the woman had been either tough enough or lucky enough to handle the consequences, even if lacking in common sense.
As for Victor, he explained what happened with Hector after Helen left, what they discussed, and how Hector had been thinking over what might motivate Roxanne to take the katar with her. Helen almost immediately suspected that it was a ritual purpose, using the tie to her friends for some purpose, but exactly what, she wasn't sure. Of the note he was directed towards however, he didn't say.
Likewise he was unaware of Hector's thoughts after Victor left, not knowing of his suspicion that whoever she was going to meet had to have had a connection to the bio-weapon project to be aware of whatever purposes the flesh weapons might have. Nor would he know of Hector's concerns about the only known use that came to mind, a use that implied a connection to the same type of sword she was bound to.
They hadn't gotten much progress beyond that, little more than tending to a few things, and about an hour later chiding Cardin and Solomon over an unholy racket and patch of scorched grass left by the river's shore. However, despite all this the mood had improved by the time the two retired for the evening. It was one hint of normalcy after all that had happened, a sense of things being closer to how it was before Victor's memory loss, minus the constant thought of what trouble Victor might get into the next day.
It had only taken a moment's rest, a break between work, for sleep to overcome Melody. "I'll just rest my eyes a moment." she thought, and it would seem like but a minute of rest to outside observers.
Within the dream she was pulled into, there was a vague awareness of the empty field she stood in. She wouldn't see it as such, afflicted by her blindness even within these dreams. But she could get a vague sense of the surroundings, intensified as the spirit of Despair had been drawn into the dream with her. A vague sense of an endless expanse, and of not being alone within it.
The watcher was there, and what ensued as he made his presence clear confirmed suspicions that the sword-spirit already had. It had encouraged Melody to lay low for a while, and now things had worsened. Though even the entity in the Veil, meddling as he did in the affairs of a distant realm, did not know where Roxanne currently was, nor what would result. Only that, if nothing was disrupted by these events, Roxanne had business someone here and, and the center would no longer be a safe place to hide if she accepted the request to meet this person here.
As both Melody and the spirit of Despair were left free to return to the waking world, a warning lingered in their minds. To Melody's surprise, when she awoke she felt something around her neck. A simple necklace, bearing a small amulet carved of bone, engraved with strange markings. And in her mind, lingered a warning.
"I cannot ensure your protection, only that you shall be obscured from those who would seek you by the aura of Despair."
Horace had come to a momentary stop to let the horse rest, check that the road ahead was clear, and find supplies for Atomos. He had set himself down the path of this new mission even if the watcher saw it as already a failure.
But suddenly, his attention was drawn to the fox's aura. Or rather, the lack thereof. The knight rushed back to his steed to find everything was as he left it, save for the fox's absence. He tried to sense and puzzle out her trail as he mounted his horse, wishing the watcher hadn't shifted his attention just before this occurred. To trail her, or take this as a chance to resume his mission, both thoughts crossed his mind.
Horace stared hard at across the brook. He considered following, he also considering just leaving her to her own devices. She might end up some other animal's meal, a hawk, a wolf. The cockroach might come after her as well, Horace's conscience was gnawing at him. He mounted back on his horse, and perused.
"Gods dammit..." he complained softly as he gripped the reins.
As he led the horse across the stream, he knew full well that any trail the fox left would be difficult to follow. But as he attuned his attention to the area past the water, something caught his attention. A bit of disturbance in the brush, but when he led his horse closer to the trail, it flinched, hesitant. There was a sudden rustle of movement before suddenly something caused a branch to snap, a familiar presence falling from a tree it had clambered up.
It was here. The knight had retrieved his bow and loosed an arrow into the beast's side as soon as the horse started acting strangely, steadying the reins when the monster shrieked and retreated into the undergrowth. At that, Horace spurred his steed after it, aware that if he could not trail Atomos directly, the stalker would lead him to her.
Meanwhile, Atomos had made it only a mile or so when the illness began to wax. She felt a sense of vertigo and couldn't help stumbling. The ground, already close at hand, rose up to meet her and Atomos lay just off a sidewalk aspirating until finally passing out. She didn't know how long she lay there under the baking sun, but she awoke with a start when Cheena began to worry at her.
"Tomos' we Have to go. Tomos, Tomos, wake up! It followed us Tomos' it's coming!"
She rose shakily, and was startled by how strong the smell was. Greasy and acrid. Hear it too, the rustle and hiss from somewhere nearby. Atomos couldn't tell, but Cheena was more experienced in the underbrush. Adding her senses to Atomos, serving for the first time as "guardian," Cheena showed her the way.
"It's coming from the way we came, follow the smooth stone, see if we can squeeze into one of the car thingies or something. We have to hide!"
"It'll still find us..." Atomos thought, but followed the instruction anyway. There were no houses to cut through, as Cheena suggested, it would have to be a vehicle they hid out in. Atomos was reminded painfully of how she'd found Red, the poor old fox stumbling out of the space between a pesticide trucks cab and cargo.
It was fortunate then, that as she rounded a bend at an uneven sprint, some sort of military vehicle hoved into view. On the side, was a simple doodle. A mark she'd seen often in her year since leaving the vault. It was an indicator left for the rodent mechanic. Yellow paint, indicating that the vehicle would run, but only with work. Catnip's pickup mark.
"There..." Atomos gasped, darting for the side of the vehicle. Somewhere around the bend they heard the crash and screech of the stalker breaking the brush line. Atomos slipped into a gap in the damaged transports siding, and hoped it hadn't seen where she'd gone.
Horace felt anger well up in his chest as he caught a glimpse of the Cockroach. The arrow sank uselessly into the chitin, barely hitting even flesh. He put the bow back over his body and unsheathed the claymore, charging after the horror head-on.
The trail, thankfully, was an easy one to follow. That his horse followed the directions of its rider despite the unnatural nature of his quarry was one advantage he had, and that the undergrowth was thin in places was another.
He knew they were on the edge of Maine by now, possibly out of it in fact. Grass and woodland gave way to pavement and roads once again, and if not for the aura of decay and corruption left in it's wake it might be harder to tell the beast had passed through the area. The occasional claw mark and pool of acrid slime made the trail more apparent, the knight readying his half-melted, warped sword as he passed by one of several long-since abandoned vehicles.
Atomos tucked herself deeper into the maintenance well of the trucks undercarriage. She and Cheena suspected that the thing hadn't even been after them at first, they'd got a glimpse of it before it sensed them and it hadn't been moving for them. The arrow in it's side also looked very familiar. Until it triggered them, it had been fleeing. Now that it had prey to go after though, it had forgotten it's flight. Fear drowned in the dumb need to kill and eat. It screeched and filled Atomos blown hiding place with sound. It squeezed itself into the gap, flexing it's body flatter and pulling the skin around it's "face" taught. It was a blessing in disguise that mattered very little. The stalkers mouth was forced the stay open, it couldn't spit, but Atomos was still trapped.
Atomos didn't hear the coming rider, but Cheena did. Unhindered by the shackles of the body, Cheena had ears where Atomos didn't. The rider wouldn't miss the screaming thing trying to squeeze itself into a tiny space, he would almost certainly take notice. If it was Horace like she expected though, he might drive it deeper into the vehicle or try to run it through and kill them in the process. Cheena had to do something.
It wasn't something she would be able to do much longer, her time as passenger would be over as soon as Atomos sickness had passed, but she leapt forward in Atomos mind and blotted her host out momentarily. Atomos didn't even realize it had happened.
"IN HERE! WE ARE IN HERE! HELP!"
Horace charged at the abomination, before leaping off and tackling the horror. He gripped the claymore by the blade, halfswording it at he stabbed into the thick chitin. He pulled back and stabbed again, and again as he attempted to crack through the natural armor.
The monster pushed forward, trying to get away from the biting steel and twisting around in a futile attempt to face it's attacker. From the outside, it looked like a vicious snail with the truck as it's oversized shell. The illusion was momentary though. As soon as its head was exposed and it's arms thrown wide in a defensive spread, Horace snagged it by the jaw and heaved.
It came out of the maintenance well with a reluctant hiss and growl. Horace smote it about the "head" with the pommel of his sword, punishing the monster for it's impudence. He didn't miss Atomos slipping out of her hiding place and bolting for the verge. There was a tense few minutes where Horace and the stalker struggled against one another, the suit of armor pushing and striking as best he could against it's tough but flexible hide while it scrabbled almost uselessly against his metallic body. For his trouble, Horace was given several scratches he knew wouldn't be easy to buff out.
They separated, the stalker mustering a surprising amount of force with it's arms. Horace heard a sharp crack as it straightened one of it's jaws and the skin he'd managed to cut loose fell away and grew back. Then, the opportunity was gone. Horace charged anyway and severed the tail of the fleeing monster, a trophy for his troubles, and it was gone screaming into the noon day light.
"Is it gone?" Atomos whispered.
Horace picked up the severed tail, before staring hard at where the beast ran off to. He glanced back at Atomos, and then back towards the screeching.
"Child." Horace growled before gently, but firmly picking the fox up by the nape of her neck.
"Tell me when you leave like that again, you could have gotten eaten by that insufferable horror. " he berated, Atomos feeling Horace's glare despite the lack of eyes.
For the second time, Atomos found herself being grabbed and lifted by the back of her neck. Unlike when Astor had snatched her up though, Horace grip was firm and gentle so there was none of the pinching and hair pulling. At that moment, all she felt was embarrassed. She could feel her ears flat against her skull and could do nothing about the way her tail curled up between her back legs to hide her belly.
"Okay..." She said softly. It was all she could think to say. Horace strode to the shoulder where his horse calmly cropped a little of the tall grass and flipped open the saddle bag.
"Now you will stay in here until we reach safer territory." He admonished. Atomos didn't say anything, just allowed herself to be lowered into the bag. She was too sick and tired to kick up much of an argument anyway. Once the bags flap was closed, she fell into a deep sleep in which she dreamed of better days.
With Atomos securely tucked away in the saddlebag Horace calmly mounted his horse to set off along their path. It wouldn't be too much longer, at least that's what he hoped.
Figures this would happen the instant you look away, Watcher...
"So. You mentioned a Helen McKinnon?" Jonathan asked, sitting at a table with Heather and Tajima. Much to the old mage hunter's relief, Aurelia had gone off elsewhere for the moment. "Not much to say. Stopped by the bar I used to frequent, few years ago. God's Army hit the place, killed the barkeep's kid during the fighting. As soon as they're out the door with their intended victims she directs a few of us to follow her lead." he explained.
"Hmm. Likely led a couple hunting parties in the old days I bet. Anything else you know?" Jonathan asked. "Seemed like an okay lady at least. Sergei...old friend of mine, and I went on a raid with her right afterward. Floating temple of some sort taken over by one of the bishops. After that she eventually went on her way and Sergei followed along. Heard bits and pieces from time to time, both settled in a local community a few hours southwest of the bar."
"Hmm. Think they got together?" Heather asked, Taji chuckling some. "Sounded more like they both found somebody actually." he said, before glancing over at Jonathan. An awkward silence lingered for a bit, Heather speaking up again to break it. "So it...seemed like you two weren't getting along very well. Why's that?" she asked, only to give Taji a sideways glance when he stifled a snicker at the fact that she'd be the one to say that.
"Blood magic. More than just the practice of it, any young fool can dabble in that self-destructive practice. It lingers on her when you look at her through one of these masks." he said, glancing over at the young woman who was now idly chatting with the bartender. "There was a group, The Sanguine Order. Long ago as it was when they destroyed themselves, if she has any ties to them, someone had to have mentored her even into the first couple years of the apocalypse." he said.
Tajima looked back, unsure what to say, suspicions lingering in his mind. Once again, it was Heather that broke the silence. "Arguments aside, it wouldn't be right to kick someone else on suspicions. Talk to her, might be able to see if she's hiding anything. Maybe after everyone gets some rest, you've all just gotten back from a mission after all."
"Sure." he said, glancing over to Jonathan. "Later today or tomorrow I'll see what I can do. In the meantime I'll be keeping an eye on her." he answered, before going back to finishing his drink.
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