Corruption.

[Kenpachi]

Imraldis was annoyed now, and he kept glaring around at anyone, daring them to go a step beyond proper. Even a tiny step would have unleashed his anger and katanas now.
Looking down however, he saw Agent Spectre waking.
Signalling to his men, he crouched down and held out a small vial.
"Drink," he said roughly, putting the vial to the man's mouth and tipping it up, "this will give you some small regain of muscular control. The Rebel's poison was effective, very effective. One might say too effective on an Agent."
He broke off and looked around the corridor they were in. Signalling, the other Agents walked out and took up guard positions, just out of hearing.
"What exactly was your mission to be upon returning Agent Spectre?" he asked, bending down further.
"From what I can gather, it is similar to my current one..."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Silk had managed to avoid capture and certain death by leaping into the blasted fridge as the Agents had entered.
He avoided freezing, as the door was slightly ajar, so he heard the Agents talking.
He had also, vitally, managed to grab his Hard Drive as he leapt, and so as he exited a few hours later after the Agents, he ran quickly and silently the five blocks to his apartment and he sat down heavily upon entering.
His brother, he had been informed not too long ago, was called 'Imraldis' in the Agent world, and to find that he was hunting him.
Silk shook his head.
"I need to get some more emails out it seems." he mused, sitting back and pulling out a second laptop from under his table.
Cracking his neck and knuckles, he set to work. He was going to be very busy for the rest of the night.

 

[Soul Saver]

Spectre gambled, and drank from the vial.
"Argh, it tastes vile," Spectre paused, and drank the rest.
"My assigned mission was to safely return sensitive documents to the Ministrty of Love. I assume that they have fallen into rebel hands." With some exertion, Spectre clambered to his feet, still quite woozy. "I was not informed of my next assignment, I'm afraid. Thank you for the rescue, also. And what exactly is your mission?" Spectre was still distrustful, but there was nothing he could do to get out of this situation at the moment, so he would be doomed, either way.

 

[Toxic Variations]

Mathias eyes sunk deeply into Raphael's cold stare, an strange sense of hatred and rage aroused within Mathias' heart. Still he did not let his emotions guide his reasoning, for he knew very well that to allow himself to be reckless would surely lead him to death by Raphael's hands. "We are monsters, specially you and I. We make profit of other's demise, always following orders but in the end, working to greaten our own glory. In this world of wolves, there is no Big Brother, no humanity, only packs of ravenous beasts praying on the weak. Just what we are, wolves..." Mathias monologued as he shifted his eyes to the darkening skies, the clouds shedding tears of sorrow on these two merciless and cruel warriors. "We can't deny our nature, and doing so would be blasphemy. Even though revenge moves me, I can't refuse to acknowledge that there was a more selfish reason that drove me to cause this encounter: I wanted to see what it was to fight a real monster." Mathias addressed to Raphael this time not as an enemy, but as a rival. The rain intensified with each second, falling mercilessly on the ground and religious statues of angels and demons that were placed on the edge of the roofs of the building around them. The nature roared thunders and lightnings, lights that flashed with each thunderous reaction from the heavens.

Mathias lowered his eyes and brought them to a puddle right below his feet and stared to his reflection. He breathed deeply and exhaled, subsequently smiling, showing a similar insane expression that he once saw carved on Seraphim's face long ago. Soon he lifted the sheathed sword before his face, and staring from above its edge, drew with his right hand the murderous weapon. The man then tossed the sheath, holding the blade next to his right leg, the tip of the sword mere inches away from the ground. Let it begin, Mathias thought, as he bent his knees and stretched them, making a small leap followed up by a quick dash towards Raphael. "Let us give the heavens a worthy show to praise!"

Raphael could see the vicious hatred burning in Mathias' eyes. It was a hatred he knew well; afterall, he had seen his own reflected in the eyes of his numerous victims. Raphael's own hatred, for his self, knew no bounds. Surprisiing, isn't it? To know that a demon, who joyfully inflicts horrors upon the innocent and kills in the name of tyranny, hates himself. Ah, he is a twisted creature with many secrets, many sides. No one would dive deep into the bottomless pit, of his heart, and see what lay beneath the blood soaked flesh. He is a puzzle, endlessly cruel, endlessly secretive and always beyond redemption. Feathered wings of white did not grace his back, but rather those splashed in the fabric of night - soft as velvet and sharp as a razor. The razor will cut deep into the flesh of those closest to him, until the vital organ is pierced and bled dry. The rain fell from the heavens and he could feel it's cool touch as it ran down his slick white hair, over his face, over his hands. Heaven was cut open, tonight, and it bled this clear, soothing fluid. Too bad that distant and dark firmament could not wash away the blood, from the streets, or soothe the surviving victims of those destroyed by his hand. Wet hair covered a right eye, as the left - dull and lifeless, blank as the gaze of the dead, would fixate on Mathias as he spoke. Yes, this was perhaps the opponent he was waiting for. A vicious and noble soul, as blood splattered as he, ready to fight and kill - in this night.

" Yes. I have believed in that for soo long. I was born a vicious serpent who devoured his Mother alive - and though, this sperent, looks upon the beauty of Eden, feasts his eyes on God's daughter, he can never belong to it. In perfect cruelty he destroys her, himself, and what might have been. He is Hell and Hell is him. "

Yet still he listened to what Mathias had to say, not once showing an ounce of emotion. There was no joy in his tone, no pleasure, just that unusual monotone that was frightening. They were much the same, these two, and now they were going to fight. Raphael reached down to the left, inside of his coat, and withdrew, from it's scabbard, his own blade. The 32" long sword bore the swistka, the golden eagle with wings outspread. The rain ran down his cheeks, stung at his eyes, but this didn't matter. For now, at least, he felt alive. Patiently he would stand his ground and wait - ah, Mathias made the first move. Still he would wait, watching as the man advanced on him. It is always best, if possible, to allow your opponent to make the first move. Raphael lifted his blade, in a vertical position, infront of his body. Both hands clutched firmly at the hilt. The blade shone gray and dark between his eyes. He was ready, mind and body, fixated on the man rushing towards him. What strike Mathias made, once he got to Raphael, Raphael would attempt to block and deliver a blow of his own. A faint whisper left him, scarlet eyes narrowing in the velvety dark. Thus he waited for the man to reach him and deliver his first strike against Raphael.

"Yes, that we will do, brother. "

 

[Dean Winchester]

Raphael could see the vicious hatred burning in Mathias' eyes. It was a hatred he knew well; afterall, he had seen his own reflected in the eyes of his numerous victims. Raphael's own hatred, for his self, knew no bounds. Surprisiing, isn't it? To know that a demon, who joyfully inflicts horrors upon the innocent and kills in the name of tyranny, hates himself. Ah, he is a twisted creature with many secrets, many sides. No one would dive deep into the bottomless pit, of his heart, and see what lay beneath the blood soaked flesh. He is a puzzle, endlessly cruel, endlessly secretive and always beyond redemption. Feathered wings of white did not grace his back, but rather those splashed in the fabric of night - soft as velvet and sharp as a razor. The razor will cut deep into the flesh of those closest to him, until the vital organ is pierced and bled dry. The rain fell from the heavens and he could feel it's cool touch as it ran down his slick white hair, over his face, over his hands. Heaven was cut open, tonight, and it bled this clear, soothing fluid. Too bad that distant and dark firmament could not wash away the blood, from the streets, or soothe the surviving victims of those destroyed by his hand. Wet hair covered a right eye, as the left - dull and lifeless, blank as the gaze of the dead, would fixate on Mathias as he spoke. Yes, this was perhaps the opponent he was waiting for. A vicious and noble soul, as blood splattered as he, ready to fight and kill - in this night.

" Yes. I have believed in that for soo long. I was born a vicious serpent who devoured his Mother alive - and though, this sperent, looks upon the beauty of Eden, feasts his eyes on God's daughter, he can never belong to it. In perfect cruelty he destroys her, himself, and what might have been. He is Hell and Hell is him. "

Yet still he listened to what Mathias had to say, not once showing an ounce of emotion. There was no joy in his tone, no pleasure, just that unusual monotone that was frightening. They were much the same, these two, and now they were going to fight. Raphael reached down to the left, inside of his coat, and withdrew, from it's scabbard, his own blade. The 32" long sword bore the swistka, the golden eagle with wings outspread. The rain ran down his cheeks, stung at his eyes, but this didn't matter. For now, at least, he felt alive. Patiently he would stand his ground and wait - ah, Mathias made the first move. Still he would wait, watching as the man advanced on him. It is always best, if possible, to allow your opponent to make the first move. Raphael lifted his blade, in a vertical position, infront of his body. Both hands clutched firmly at the hilt. The blade shone gray and dark between his eyes. He was ready, mind and body, fixated on the man rushing towards him. What strike Mathias made, once he got to Raphael, Raphael would attempt to block and deliver a blow of his own. A faint whisper left him, scarlet eyes narrowing in the velvety dark. Thus he waited for the man to reach him and deliver his first strike against Raphael.

"Yes, that we will do, brother. "

"And as brothers, it is our destiny to destroy each other. A perfect play that resemblances the ancient story of Cain and Abel, both of us being Cain, both of us being Abel, and neither of us being any those two. We are just equal and opposite sides of the coin. Ying and Yang, Life and death, Creation and Destruction...Now let destiny and history collide!"

Mathias, went head on just like a ravenous beast cornering its prey, adrenaline pumped through his body, blood filled eyes fixed on the target. Each step landing on random puddles splashed water which soaked his already wet clothes. A smirk clearly shown on the hunter's face, the lights of death glistening within the man's cold stare, all elements along with Raphael meant to merge and give birth to a masterfully orchestrated moment. Hair dripping, wet, the hair falling all over his forehead, scattered on his shoulders, forced to wave from left to right with each step taken. The distance between these men was shortened, and as they were preparing to be locked inside a blood spilling battle, the thundering clouds and darkening heavens remained staring and reacting to each action made, as if they were symbolizing the prologue of this encounter.

His knees bending and stretching, Mathias' strong legs brought him closer and closer to Raphael. As he sprinted towards his opponent, Mathias rose his right arm bringing his sword in an horizontal position above his right shoulder. A devilish smile was shown on his face as he prepared to deliver the first blow, clearly aimed to Raphael's left shoulder.
​

 

[toyohisa]

His cellphone began the usual vibrations, signaling to its owner that he'd received another email. Pulling a hood over his head, the rain pelted off his physique while the young man momentarily stopped under cover to check the message. Flipping the cover back, he read the message that Silk had sent to him, thumb pressing against the directional keys until it highlighted the reply option. Why the hell was it raining now?

"whre r u."

He was sure enough that Silk used a network secure enough to ensure that the emails went to and from his inbox without the risk of being intercepted. Checking his surroundings, Mamoru sent the message and waited patiently for a moment, laying his bag down on the ground. Pulling back the zipper, he went through the contents: a Benelli nova shotgun and a pair of modified Beretta 90-TWO models. With an extended clip and engravings on the barrels, he was sure that the silver weapons wouldn't let him down.

The paranoia that struck prompted him to don the holsters and the pistols, leaving the shotgun in the bag for later use. The streets were empty; hell, why wouldn't they be? The rain was coming down harder than a crazed Taiwanese bitch with roid rage and PMS. A final gaze was thrown about the surroundings before he walked away from the area. Now that he was being paid, he decided that he'd put a bit more effort into this struggle for "freedom," even if he didn't give two shits about the outcome as a whole.

Speaking of that, the others would be arriving within due time.

 

[Serge68]

"Well this is interesting..."

The Ghost was having an inner monologue with his alter ego Raegan, the rightful owner of the bodt that the Ghost respectfully inhabited. It was impossible to tell who was speaking out loud to whom at the moment. The ghost wasn't nearly as acrobatic or agile as Raegan, and they still worked on switching back and forth as a means to compensate for each others shortcomings.

The Ghost was capable of clearing a building in a single leap.Yet, he never shared his secrets. Only training for Raegan.

The plan unfortunately had worked out exactly as expected. The tactic was very much similar to Aikido. In that sense, the longer on struggles, the easier it is for an opponent. Redirection and reflection of an opponents force, or in this case, using the music as excuse to garner more support foor big brother. It wwas under-handed, and it hurt them both greatly. Many that had died from the cyanide gas were innocents, and although many of their minds had belonged completely to big brother, they were still human.

Some times, Raegan wished he was a bit more emotional. He felt terrible inside for what had happned. The soldiers that he had defeated would be summarily executed. If it only took one rebels to defeat them, what use were they to the party?

Raegan had prediced a tactic like this, but not necessarily it's employment.

"Raegan, do you see it?"

"Yeah, hat's cyanide gas, which means..."

"Who?"

Raegan's body hadcleared a 2 story building in one leap, and taken careful precaution to lay low, using his cape as extra cover.

Looking over the chestnust tree cafe, his eas were alerted to the sound of heated speech...

"Raphael... I knew it"

Would you like to take over?"

"With pleasure, but for now I think that i'll just watcch..."

Who was it that he was battling? Matthais? Intriguing. His mind jumped to life, with all manner of schemes, using agent politics against them.

"But why are they about to fight?"

 

[Kenpachi]

Imraldis looked down at Spectre mysteriously for a moment before sighing.
"I," he said finally, "am to assassinate a Rebel assassin known as 'Silk'."
Straightening up he sighed again.
"You can probably walk again now," he said loud enough to be heard by the other Agents, "so..." he signalled, and they assembled back, some helping Spectre to his feet.
"By the way, the target of my mission, managed to escape with all the documents you had on your person at the time of capture, along with a large number of other documents from the plane. I highly doubt the Ministry or Big Brother himself, will be very pleased if they cannot be returned..."
Turning, he started up the corridor.

 

[Soul Saver]

Spectre decided to trust his fellow agent. "Then I will not fail this time."
Spectre picked up a P35 machine pistol- a rather overlarge handgun shaped weapon, with an extra long clip and longer barrel- from one of the dead guards, and made sure it was loaded, then followed slowly. The dank corridor opened up into a dimly lit mine shaft, which felt humid and stuffy. A single set of x-mas lights ran along the top.
Christmas, or ex-mass as it was normally referred to by the state, had been banned for twenty years, a capitalist, religious holiday which promoted decadence. No doubt, these sodomite pigs worshipped their gods and bought worthless trinkets for "ex-mass". Spectre could only laugh at the idea, and headed further up the steady slope, up to a rusty elevator.

 

[Contra Fates]

A sigh escaped thin lips, as smooth leather was brought across the bottom tier. He gazed up at the ceiling with vacant eyes, as though staring into the abyss, alone, his only company being the thoughts within his own mind. He ran that gloved finger over his lip once more, contemplating actions and the consequences that would result from each and every choice. He had plans, big plans, and as he remained locked up in his office, for the eighth day in a row, it would become apparent that Agent Seraphim had quite a lot on his plate. There was a blip on his computer screen, and finally, he would be bothered enough to be removed from his thought-inducing trance.

He kicked his feet off of the edge of that cherry-wood desk, and swiveled in his chair towards the blinking computer screen. He opened the message, and read it with a pleased grin spreading across those recently caressed lips. "...Good. We'll see how all of our pawns react to this, won't we?"

Yukio was resting in his room, drifting through a seemingly dreamless slumber. Perhaps he did dream, yet nothing of any remarkable importance. He was awoken by the front gate, someone was there. Groaning, he'd toss off his blanket with noticeable disdain, in accordance with Ansell's voice over the intercom. "Mi'Lord, you have a delivery...a large one." Yukio quirked a brow, not recalling an expectation for any deliveries. He shrugged it off, and quickly threw on his trademarked white coat. He'd follow Ansell to the front door, and stepped outside, to be greeted by the sight of a delivery truck, and the workers hurrying to unload some surprisingly big boxes onto the ground.

"What is all this?" Yukio called out to the delivery men, who at first, didn't seem to hear him. One of them finally looked up and walked over in his direction, handing him a notice, that read:

"Dear Tokugawa Yukio, in an effort to unite all of the people of this city, we are giving telescreens to all of our citizens. This will insure that everyone will be able to be alerted during a time of crisis, and may also be entertained by our newly created television stations. Every person sleeping under Big Brother's watchful eye, may be kept up to date on current events occurring within our society. Please schedule an appointment with the men delivering your telescreens, before April 20th. On April 20th, routine checks will begin to make sure that all telescreens are properly installed and functioning. Enjoy your new telescreens!"

Yukio raised his brows, a bit stunned about this newfound gift from the government. He motioned to Ansell to take care of the scheduling for the installation of the telescreens, and would also leave it up to Ansell to decide where to place them all. Giving a quick glance over, he saw that they had delivered a dozen boxes. It struck him as a bit odd that they'd give him so many!

The next sound that poor Chimitsu would hear would be a throaty, feminine laugh, promising all sorts of atrocities with it's mere sounds. The curvaceous form of Professor Khitri would loom over Chimitsu's naked and bound form, eyes alive with an unhealthy, malicious glow. It was similar to the look seen in a predator's eyes before it rips out the throat of its prey.

"Sister, sister, sister...you've gotten yourself into a whole mess of trouble. But don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll be taking real good care of you. In fact, when I'm done with you...our own father won't be able to recognize you." Khitri laughed, before Chimitsu would feel the sudden shock of cold steel pressing against the sides of her face as her head was held in place by a metallic head-brace. Khitri would drop some clear solution into her eyes after the head-brace was in place, drops that would numb Chimitsu's eyes and widen the pupils.

Smiling with a hint of triumph, Khitri would stand over her sister with those
sinister needles in her hands, before motioning to her assistant to place a mask over Chimitsu's mouth and nose, gassing her with laughing gas, as well as a sedative. It was best for her to be as still as possible, for the various operations that her body was about to undergo.

After that was done, Khitri would lean over her sister's eyes with those needles in hand, bringing one of the tips closer and closer to a widened eye. "...You have such pretty eyes, Chimitsu. I can't wait to see what's inside of them." And as those words finished, Khitri would pierce her eye with that tiny syringe, and would inject some sort of fluid into them. For Chimitsu, the entire world would go black from there.

 

[toyohisa]

"..guess he's too busy to respond. Asshat."

Pulling the keys to his apartment from his coat pocket, a glance was thrown to the surroundings; paranoia was often the trait that saved one from death, after all. Unlocking his front door, he stepped into the small room and closed the door behind him, tossing his bag onto the bed. It was too dark for his personal tastes; his name wasn't Solid Snake. Heading to the refrigerator, he pulled open the door to find it fully stocked -- right on time. Before he left, he gave Lin the money and a spare key to help him with his shopping, with a bit extra to ensure that she actually did, and without poisoning him.

Grabbing a beer from the box, he popped the cap open and stood in the darkness, contemplating going straight to sleep. He did notice, however, that a box was sitting in his room. The hell was it for? Did he even give a shit? It better be something worth the fucking time of him opening the thing. Pulling open the flaps, he noticed that there was a telescreen inside; hell, maybe now he could watch something other than the fly buzzing around the sink. Bastard.

Laying upon the screen was a small piece of paper. Tilting his head, Mamoru picked up the note and opened it, barely able to make out the words through the small amount of light through his window.

Enjoy it from beyond the grave.

The cool metal of the barrel pressed back against his head, with only a slight delay, the trigger was pulled. A gunshot never sounded so loud before. . .

 

[Leki]

Mizu didn't glance back at the man who was supposed fighting. She continue to listen to the beautiful music, but flinched as it seemed to get louder. Throughout the time she had hurried home, she had heard gunshots throughout the city. There seemed to be a lot of violence this night. She moved onwards, not looking at cars that crept home, slow as to avoid sliding on the wet pavement.

"Finally..." She breathed a sigh of relief as she got home, and then put on a straight face. When she walked in, there would be a tiny, one foot hallway, then the main room. With The Screen. Big Brother is WATCHING YOU.

She let out her breath, and opened the door, stopping in that little hallway to put her shoes and jacket by the door. She walked through the door, trying to turn down the volume slightly, as she always did. But alas, as always, it didn't go down. She could never turn it off, even if she wanted to.

"Sweetie?" She whispered gently, calling to her young female child. No answer, so the girl was probably asleep. She went to the kitchen, and took a much needed glass of water.

 

[toyohisa]

It was true; one never truly knew the fear of hearing a gunshot unless it was aimed at them -- however, those people would never know the thrill, either. It was the thrill of battle that only a true soldier could come to value; one such as himself. Instinct and veteran experience lead to the pivoting of his weight, lowering his physique in a swift evasive maneuver, spinning around the mans physique with an arm securely wrapped around the neck. Mamoru pressed the barrel of the gun against his attackers kidney, pulling back the hammer. The silver haired man struggled, blurting words of Russian curse toward the half Italian soldier.

Jerking back with the forearm, he pulled harshly against the throat of his captive, forcing the air from his lungs. If his assumption was correct, the man was an agent -- not too many people liked to wait for you in your house and jump you when your back was turned. Unless your name was fucking shoop da whoop and you were a crack addict.

Pressing the tip of the gun against his liver a menacing force, his foot was soon forced back into the mans knee, dropping him to the ground with a simple, well placed kick. His grasp did not leave the mans throat, lowering his own physique to match with the new angle.

"..How many did you bring?"

When the man spat on his own carpet, the soldier moved his gun a few centimeters to the side and pulled the trigger. A gunshot rang out, the lead piercing through a non-vital area of the body, but he'd still die from bloodloss if he wasn't treated immediately. Pressing the barrel of the gun into the fresh wound, a feral growl was released into the Russian agents ear.

"..Fine, don't tell me. Judging from my information, an agent known as Seraphim is supposedly in charge of your kind. I doubt I'll see the man anytime soon, nor will I get my chance to kill him till much later. Sucks ass, you know."

Slamming the butt of the pistol down onto the agents head, he allowed the man to topple over onto his rug. Grabbing his bag, he collected his items, food, manga, magazines, books, candy, whatever else was necessary, and left via the front door. If he'd brought anyone with them, they would have intervened the moment the gunshot was heard. Sliding his pistol back into the holster, he removed his cellphone and made an important call.

"I hope Lin-chan is ready to ditch Cow-kun."

"No wanna answer phone.. go away."

It kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing to the point where she almost stabbed the damn thing and flung it out the window in a blind Chinese bitch rage. Picking up the phone, she pressed it against her ear and began to shout various obscenities toward the man in her native language, but the assault stopped the moment money was brought into the picture. They would meet there.

Kicking her legs over the edge of the bed, Lin eagerly began to gather her things: knives, clothes, y'know, the essential shit. Her time as a mercenary was finally ready to begin again.

 

[Toxic Variations]

"And as brothers, it is our destiny to destroy each other. A perfect play that resemblances the ancient story of Cain and Abel, both of us being Cain, both of us being Abel, and neither of us being any those two. We are just equal and opposite sides of the coin. Ying and Yang, Life and death, Creation and Destruction...Now let destiny and history collide!"

Mathias, went head on just like a ravenous beast cornering its prey, adrenaline pumped through his body, blood filled eyes fixed on the target. Each step landing on random puddles splashed water which soaked his already wet clothes. A smirk clearly shown on the hunter's face, the lights of death glistening within the man's cold stare, all elements along with Raphael meant to merge and give birth to a masterfully orchestrated moment. Hair dripping, wet, the hair falling all over his forehead, scattered on his shoulders, forced to wave from left to right with each step taken. The distance between these men was shortened, and as they were preparing to be locked inside a blood spilling battle, the thundering clouds and darkening heavens remained staring and reacting to each action made, as if they were symbolizing the prologue of this encounter.

His knees bending and stretching, Mathias' strong legs brought him closer and closer to Raphael. As he sprinted towards his opponent, Mathias rose his right arm bringing his sword in an horizontal position above his right shoulder. A devilish smile was shown on his face as he prepared to deliver the first blow, clearly aimed to Raphael's left shoulder.​

" As you wish. "

The man whispered quietly, in response, to Mathias' cold, passionate words. Raphael was ready for this battle, more then ready. It would be interesting to see which one of them would gain the upper hand and prove to be the victor of this encounter. Raphael had battled many and each one fell underneath his hand; however, perhaps this one wouldn't go down so easily. He looked forward to the stench, heat, blood of fighting for pure survival. Yes, this was what he was made for! Or rather, what he enjoyed doing the most. The dark, thirsty soul, he possessed, longed to dominate each and every obstacle and then completely obliterate it. He stared forward, the rain falling in glittering sheets against his scarlet gaze, and then he'd take two steps forward. The proverbial lion was rushing towards him, it's fangs glittering in the dark, ready to tear him limb from limb - behold it's golden sheathe of fur as it shone in the dark. Raphael would master him and his like - dark cannot conquer dark, it is merely swallowed up by it. Raphael's left foot was infront of him, while his right was in the back - thus giving him optimal balance. The battle had begun. A grin swept across pale, cadaverous mouth as Mathias raised his blade and made for a strike against Raphael's left shoulder. Very good. It was clear, to anyone watching, Raphael's left arm was his sword arm. If this arm was wounded, his fighting ability would be hampered.

Raphael quickly moved his blade so that it would block Mathias' strike against his left shoulder. The two blades would meet and clash with a resounding zing! Raphael's face was close to the other mans and then he'd smile - " Your thoughts are running wild, right now, Mathias. Agent Saint was your friend, was he not? A part of this battle is for him - despite what you might say. " Blood red eyes narrowed. Raphael leaned in close. The man's thoughts came in quick flashes into his own mind. " It was me who tampered with his car. The brakes, that is. I took them out. I watched, through the telescreen in his car, as his car fell from the bridge and into the river below. It was me who rescued him and sent him to the hospital. You see, death alone, is not good enough for traitors. They deserve to be shamed to the point of extremity. Only when they have been perfectly defiled and destroyed - may they die. And die, he will, a lump of flesh no better then a squealing pig. One which I'd be happy to devour - if it were not the flesh of a
pig, covered in shit." Those pale lips curled up into a smile, as he would attempt to push Mathias backwards. A stream of blood ran down Raphael's left arm - ah! It would seem Mathias had managed to strike him, nevertheless. " Very good, brother. You've landed the first blow. " Raphael would, in turn, attempt a strike of his own. His blade would come flashing down towards Mathias' own right shoulder and then a quick, successive slash across the man's torso.

 

[Tzakeran]

As the cold, unforgiving steel of the braces secured her head in place Chimitsu would look up at her older sister, "Khitri, why? Do you hate father so much? He spent more time with you......" her voice trailed off as the Nitrous Oxide took affect. The most noticable effect was her sudden disintrest in the happenings taking place around her, as well as the signiture "smile" the patients developed when the gases affects took place.

"Aww....look she's smiling...." The seductive form of Khitri spoke, with a throaty laugh she leaned over and Chimitsu's vision was filled with her sister's laughing face, "...You have such pretty eyes, Chimitsu. I can't wait to see what's inside of them." As the needle plunged into her left eye, the injected fluid made the room change and dance before her. The room slowly closed in upon itself until she could only see Khitri's smile floating above her from that eye. The horror of her eye being violated by her own sister brought her to a small form of consciousness. Fighting the urge to giggle uncontrollably, she forced out the words,

"Kh...Sister....wh....why? Why are you with.....the Agents? Is this what.....Father wanted? What about Mother?" At this Khitri motioned to one of her aids, and whispered a few words in her ear. The Aid disappeared from Chimitsu's sight and a few moments later she felt something being pressed in between her legs. Instictively she tried to close them but the sedative, made legs merely shift slightly togeather. Noticing her futile attemt Khitri laughed again and smiled a predatory smile down at Chimitsu's bound and half-blind form,

"Ah, sister, don't struggle. This is just a little toy of mine I use when I'm in need of a...... distraction. You should enjoy it as much as I do, and as a bonus you won't be too talkative, as you'll be a bit preoccupied with other sensations." She motioned to the Aid and pleasent feelings began to bombard Chimitsu's drugged mind. Try as she might she couldn't concentrate on the direness of her current situation, and all her thoughts were lost in the pleasure of the moment. Her smile become a huge grin as her mind lost all gripe on reality, except for the sensations coming from between her legs. Khitri removed the need from her eye, as Chimitsu's breathing increased to ragged pants. Her eyes rolled up into her skull. And her body merely quivered slightly as the sedative prevented more energetic motions. She heard her sister as she mused to herself aloud, "Hmmm.....now that's a good girl. Now where should I explore next?"

 

[Dean Winchester]

" As you wish. "

The man whispered quietly, in response, to Mathias' cold, passionate words. Raphael was ready for this battle, more then ready. It would be interesting to see which one of them would gain the upper hand and prove to be the victor of this encounter. Raphael had battled many and each one fell underneath his hand; however, perhaps this one wouldn't go down so easily. He looked forward to the stench, heat, blood of fighting for pure survival. Yes, this was what he was made for! Or rather, what he enjoyed doing the most. The dark, thirsty soul, he possessed, longed to dominate each and every obstacle and then completely obliterate it. He stared forward, the rain falling in glittering sheets against his scarlet gaze, and then he'd take two steps forward. The proverbial lion was rushing towards him, it's fangs glittering in the dark, ready to tear him limb from limb - behold it's golden sheathe of fur as it shone in the dark. Raphael would master him and his like - dark cannot conquer dark, it is merely swallowed up by it. Raphael's left foot was infront of him, while his right was in the back - thus giving him optimal balance. The battle had begun. A grin swept across pale, cadaverous mouth as Mathias raised his blade and made for a strike against Raphael's left shoulder. Very good. It was clear, to anyone watching, Raphael's left arm was his sword arm. If this arm was wounded, his fighting ability would be hampered.

Raphael quickly moved his blade so that it would block Mathias' strike against his left shoulder. The two blades would meet and clash with a resounding zing! Raphael's face was close to the other mans and then he'd smile - " Your thoughts are running wild, right now, Mathias. Agent Saint was your friend, was he not? A part of this battle is for him - despite what you might say. " Blood red eyes narrowed. Raphael leaned in close. The man's thoughts came in quick flashes into his own mind. " It was me who tampered with his car. The brakes, that is. I took them out. I watched, through the telescreen in his car, as his car fell from the bridge and into the river below. It was me who rescued him and sent him to the hospital. You see, death alone, is not good enough for traitors. They deserve to be shamed to the point of extremity. Only when they have been perfectly defiled and destroyed - may they die. And die, he will, a lump of flesh no better then a squealing pig. One which I'd be happy to devour - if it were not the flesh of a
pig, covered in shit." Those pale lips curled up into a smile, as he would attempt to push Mathias backwards. A stream of blood ran down Raphael's left arm - ah! It would seem Mathias had managed to strike him, nevertheless. " Very good, brother. You've landed the first blow. " Raphael would, in turn, attempt a strike of his own. His blade would come flashing down towards Mathias' own right shoulder and then a quick, successive slash across the man's torso.

"You are such a bastard, aren't you? Yes, Saint was more than a friend. He is my son. I sent him to join the Ministry at such an early age only to see how he was turned into a monster. Jonathan Saint was not his true name, only a false identity created with the purpose to hide any relation with the Salazar Household. I thought that Big Brother would keep his promise of keeping him away from harm. But he didn't, and for that, someone will pay. I demand blood in exchange for this treachery." Mathias felt himself being pushed fiercely backwards, slightly losing balance as he witnessed how Raphael's sword was clearly aimed at his right shoulder. In a desperate attempt, Mathias let himself fall to the right, only for Raphael's sword to land, slashing and leaving a deep cut on Mathias' left shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, staining his tuxedo. Mathias grinned, shifting his eyes momentarily to his wound as he retook balance and stood firmly before his enemy. Mathias was amazed, it was the first time in a long time that he was forced to see his own blood spilled. Mathias laughed, then he brought his cold stare to Raphael. "I see that the new generation of agents is as effective as the old class agents such as myself. Yes, I am a retired agent. I fought alongside the Founders of the Party when the country was being held a victim of Civil War. Of course, I decided that playing one of the puppeteers pulling the strings was far better than being just another puppet. Now, I somehow expected more from you, I envisioned you as one of the masters, not as just another mindless pawn..." Mathias smirked, his expression quickly shifted from a grim satisfaction to pure annoyance. "I know this is suicidal, because I know your bastard brothers would also come to aid you if your life is endangered. Pity...because I have no intention on dying here....not before seeing you die. Hell awaits for us brother, and it would be quite rude from us to let it wait any longer. Now, ON GUARD!" Mathias spun his blade as he quickly end his taunt by aiming with the tip of his sword to his opponent. Eyes widened with rage pumping up through blood vessels, his eyes shining red with anger and hatred, but more than pure blind rage, it was the thirst for flesh and blood. Mathias sprinted to his opponent, raising his blade above his right shoulder, pulling it backwards to gain momentum and subsequently lunging his deadly weapon towards Raphael's chest. The attack, successful or not, would be followed up by three consecutive sword slashes aimed accurately to Raphael's right leg, torso and right shoulder.

 

[Toxic Variations]

"You are such a bastard, aren't you? Yes, Saint was more than a friend. He is my son. I sent him to join the Ministry at such an early age only to see how he was turned into a monster. Jonathan Saint was not his true name, only a false identity created with the purpose to hide any relation with the Salazar Household. I thought that Big Brother would keep his promise of keeping him away from harm. But he didn't, and for that, someone will pay. I demand blood in exchange for this treachery." Mathias felt himself being pushed fiercely backwards, slightly losing balance as he witnessed how Raphael's sword was clearly aimed at his right shoulder. In a desperate attempt, Mathias let himself fall to the right, only for Raphael's sword to land, slashing and leaving a deep cut on Mathias' left shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, staining his tuxedo. Mathias grinned, shifting his eyes momentarily to his wound as he retook balance and stood firmly before his enemy. Mathias was amazed, it was the first time in a long time that he was forced to see his own blood spilled. Mathias laughed, then he brought his cold stare to Raphael. "I see that the new generation of agents is as effective as the old class agents such as myself. Yes, I am a retired agent. I fought alongside the Founders of the Party when the country was being held a victim of Civil War. Of course, I decided that playing one of the puppeteers pulling the strings was far better than being just another puppet. Now, I somehow expected more from you, I envisioned you as one of the masters, not as just another mindless pawn..." Mathias smirked, his expression quickly shifted from a grim satisfaction to pure annoyance. "I know this is suicidal, because I know your bastard brothers would also come to aid you if your life is endangered. Pity...because I have no intention on dying here....not before seeing you die. Hell awaits for us brother, and it would be quite rude from us to let it wait any longer. Now, ON GUARD!" Mathias spun his blade as he quickly end his taunt by aiming with the tip of his sword to his opponent. Eyes widened with rage pumping up through blood vessels, his eyes shining red with anger and hatred, but more than pure blind rage, it was the thirst for flesh and blood. Mathias sprinted to his opponent, raising his blade above his right shoulder, pulling it backwards to gain momentum and subsequently lunging his deadly weapon towards Raphael's chest. The attack, successful or not, would be followed up by three consecutive sword slashes aimed accurately to Raphael's right leg, torso and right shoulder.

" You have no idea. " Raphael replied with a calculating smile. Imagine now, the pure surprise on his face. Well now, that was something he hadn't known. Father and son - two human beings locked together through flesh, blood, love. What was it like to have a father? To be bound to another human being through the bonds of compassion, love? Raphael had never known such a bond. He wondered, vaguely, what such a bond would feel like. For now he was silent as they gazed at one another with such venom. " Mathias, you were a fool. You sent your child to the Ministry with the false delusions of his protection? How pitiful. In this world there is no such thing as protection. We are all open and vunerable - destined to die. Blood? Yes, you should have it, bathe in it, drink it down and emersh your soul in it. By all means, come here and take it. It's waiting for you. " Raphael listened to him. Oh really? The man fought alongside the founders of the Party? Amazing. But of course, he had. Mathias' skill was fantastic. The young man smiled - " A master, eh? You could say that. Understand me when I say: I have no qualms about killing everyone in this wretched city. I'd murder man, woman, child - everyone, everything - and then I'd move on to another city and another. I would decimate every peaceful family, every sweet lover's embrace, everything hinting towards happiness and peace. All in the name of order - MY order. A puppet? Maybe. A master? Always. I feel nothing. No sorrow, no compassion, no happiness. Nothing moves me. " Blood red eyes were wide and empty - " In the blood I spill I search for what I am missing - yet I find nothing, no one, save this same emptiness. It is beautiful. " That smile widened into a smirk.

" If anyone came to my rescue, I would rip out their heart and step on it. I will fight you alone and shall enjoy it. Oh yes. " Raphael leaned forward, his voice a seductive whisper. " You're a vestiage of the past, Mathias Salazar. When I'm done with you, I'll wipe out your existence completely. " His voice grew ever softer, deadly, malevolent. " Quite an experience to live in fear - isn't it? " Raphael took a step forward and swung his blade infront of him. It was held out infront of Raphael - it's tip pointing at Mathias. Blood dripped from the cold metal, as did the rain - " There is no Hell. All we have is this world. " Raphael lept backwards, barely avoiding the dangerous slashes of Mathias' sword. He wasn't so quick as to avoid the one aimed for his leg. The blade cut in deeply, causing his blood to pour. He grimaced and arched his back in pain - stumbling to regain his footing and delivering a counter slash, of his own, directed at Mathias' face, then with a secondary slash to his chest, and throat. With a chuckle he would jump up onto an old, rusted stairwell and ascend into an old derelict building. No doubt they'd fight all the way to the top. " The heavens await. Let us fight close to them, shall we? If I am to fall, like Lucifer, let it be there. "

 

[Nami]

Jack found the source of his uneasiness.

The music had made him uneasy, but there was something else... The beautiful busty beauty who had visited Yukio's mansion said she would return. She never did. Jack paced the room impatiently for Nimble to return.

Nimble hurried through the mansion, seeking out information. She ran through the corridors, hoping to find either Yukio or Ansell. She ran directly into Annabel, one of Yukio's servants. Nimble wasted no time in getting out her pen and paper. She hastily wrote:

What is going on? Why is music playing outside?

Annabel learned that she could respond back with speech, so she said out loud "I don't know". Nimble nodded her head quickly in thanks. She had to find someone who knew. She didn't feel comfortable with Jack's idea to go check into it themselves. Yet she knew something wasn't right. Damnit, it was just like being "home" all over again. Nimble could care less about the affairs of this country, Big Brother, or this country's happiness. She had, however, grown to care for Yukio.

Nimble once again ran into someone. It was another of Yukio's servants, Karina. Nimble showed her the questions she had written and added,

Where is Yukio?

Karina also knew the quickest way to respond and said, "I don't know what is going on. Yukio has gone to bed for the night." Nimble gave a curt and frustrated nod of thanks, then ran back toward the room.

When Nimble entered the room, she found everything packed and ready to go. Nimble sighed and looked at the determined Jack. "Why does it matter what is going on out there?" Nimble asked him.

"Did you find out anything?" Jack asked. Nimble shook her head. Jack put on his backpack.

"Don't you realize that your concern is going to get us killed? What if something really is going on? What will you do?" Nimble squatted down so that she was eye level with Jack. "Do you think any of those people care about you? About us? Think, Jack. You're a monkey. I'm a kid. What can we do?"

"Think of Yukio." Nimble opened her mouth to protest, but Jack continued. "We can't go 'home' or we'll be killed. Big Brother has been much nicer to us than our country has been. But what if Yukio's story is true? Eventually this country will be just like ours."

"We don't even know what's happening yet, Jack. Plus, this house has immunity. If we leave here, we can die. Are you ready to die for your curiosity?"

Jack thought of the girl who had not returned. What if something really did happen to her? Jack evaded Nimble's question and said, "I'll need your help. If something is wrong, I can't do something about it alone. Will you help me?" Nimble thought of Yukio's story and shuddered. She didn't understand how Yukio had lived through the horrors of this "Room 101". She herself had nearly died when she experienced similar horrors.. In fact, both her and Jack were presumed to be dead. She never wanted to go through that again. As if he read her thoughts, he said, "I will protect you." Jack looked earnestly at Nimble. Nimble stared at him for several long moments. She couldn't let Jack go alone. What if something happened to him? Letting Jack die from his own stupidity would be unforgivable. Jack made life worthwhile. Without Jack... Nimble didn't even want to think about it. Finally, Nimble sighed.

"I can't let you go get yourself killed. Geez, you're hardheaded and naïve. I have a feeling I'll have to stock up on some things before we leave." Nimble walked over to the serinette. She wanted to complete its capabilities. It seemed to have worked when she tested it on that would-be rapist while it was in its beta version. Nimble still couldn't explain why she and Jack were so leery about the music outside. Both retained the nagging instinct that something was very, very wrong.

 

[Dean Winchester]

" You have no idea. " Raphael replied with a calculating smile. Imagine now, the pure surprise on his face. Well now, that was something he hadn't known. Father and son - two human beings locked together through flesh, blood, love. What was it like to have a father? To be bound to another human being through the bonds of compassion, love? Raphael had never known such a bond. He wondered, vaguely, what such a bond would feel like. For now he was silent as they gazed at one another with such venom. " Mathias, you were a fool. You sent your child to the Ministry with the false delusions of his protection? How pitiful. In this world there is no such thing as protection. We are all open and vunerable - destined to die. Blood? Yes, you should have it, bathe in it, drink it down and emersh your soul in it. By all means, come here and take it. It's waiting for you. " Raphael listened to him. Oh really? The man fought alongside the founders of the Party? Amazing. But of course, he had. Mathias' skill was fantastic. The young man smiled - " A master, eh? You could say that. Understand me when I say: I have no qualms about killing everyone in this wretched city. I'd murder man, woman, child - everyone, everything - and then I'd move on to another city and another. I would decimate every peaceful family, every sweet lover's embrace, everything hinting towards happiness and peace. All in the name of order - MY order. A puppet? Maybe. A master? Always. I feel nothing. No sorrow, no compassion, no happiness. Nothing moves me. " Blood red eyes were wide and empty - " In the blood I spill I search for what I am missing - yet I find nothing, no one, save this same emptiness. It is beautiful. " That smile widened into a smirk.

" If anyone came to my rescue, I would rip out their heart and step on it. I will fight you alone and shall enjoy it. Oh yes. " Raphael leaned forward, his voice a seductive whisper. " You're a vestiage of the past, Mathias Salazar. When I'm done with you, I'll wipe out your existence completely. " His voice grew ever softer, deadly, malevolent. " Quite an experience to live in fear - isn't it? " Raphael took a step forward and swung his blade infront of him. It was held out infront of Raphael - it's tip pointing at Mathias. Blood dripped from the cold metal, as did the rain - " There is no Hell. All we have is this world. " Raphael lept backwards, barely avoiding the dangerous slashes of Mathias' sword. He wasn't so quick as to avoid the one aimed for his leg. The blade cut in deeply, causing his blood to pour. He grimaced and arched his back in pain - stumbling to regain his footing and delivering a counter slash, of his own, directed at Mathias' face, then with a secondary slash to his chest, and throat. With a chuckle he would jump up onto an old, rusted stairwell and ascend into an old derelict building. No doubt they'd fight all the way to the top. " The heavens await. Let us fight close to them, shall we? If I am to fall, like Lucifer, let it be there. "

Shocked, Mathias barely kept his own life by evading the first attack, he then blocked the second parrying the one aimed to his throat with an upward slash, but the move left him vulnerable, and so a slight diagonal scar was carved on his chest. His white collar shirt now split in halves exposing his wound, all stained with his own blood. His black jacket now opened, slightly ragged by Raphael's sword. Both blood and water dripped from Mathias' clothes, he was soaked in his own vital fluid. He stared straight into Raphael's eyes as he sunk deep into his opponent's insanity, slowly allowing him to be intoxicated by his blood lust.

The last attack, clearly forced Mathias to step back away from Raphael. Instead of words, Mathias showed Raphael how much he was enjoying this battle. His long hair scattered, falling over his forehead and on his shoulders. As he thought of what Raphael had said before in an attempt to excuse his ruthless behavior, Mathias could not avoid feeling an unyielding disgust towards both his opponent and himself. Yet all of it was not entirely unbearable, for the satisfaction of being able to spill his opponent's blood, even at the cost of his own, was a price worth paying it again, and again. Mathias rose his blade slowly, placing it next to his face, and then he swung it diagonally from left to right, cutting through air and water. His sword then held low, next to his right leg, dripping with Raphael's blood. He saw how Raphael fled towards the building, and Mathias knew that the outcome of this battle would be probably witnessed by the cold stone walls of that abandoned edifice.

"How can you believe in heaven if you say there's no hell? No, Raphael, what awaits us is a far more terrible place, one specially created for murderous monsters as ourselves. You have listed your sins, and for them you shall pay. I, on the other hand, had committed the most unforgivable sin, for I alone sent my own flesh and blood to oblivion!" Mathias yelled to the winds as he jumped and landed on the rusted stairway, running after Raphael, finally catching up with him. Bolts of lightning fell fiercely around the building, the storm intensified by the second.

 

[Nami]

Together, Nimble and Jack prepared to leave. Nimble carried her serinette and backpack while Jack carried his backpack and a lighter in his hand.

They went into the hallway. There was no time to waste. Nimble sought out one of the servants she had already been acquainted with. When she found Annabel she held up her notebook and pointed to the question:

Where is Yukio?

Seeing that the duo had all of their things, Annabel realized they probably weren't staying long. She led the duo to Yukio's bedroom. She said, "This is Yukio's bedroom" and left the duo to knock on the door.

Nimble hesitated before knocking. She really wanted to stay in Yukio's home. However, she knew that if she stayed, Jack would run off and get himself killed. She knocked loudly, then took a step back. She waited while Jack shifted impatiently behind her.

[post will be edited and made longer later.]

 

[Toxic Variations]

Shocked, Mathias barely kept his own life by evading the first attack, he then blocked the second parrying the one aimed to his throat with an upward slash, but the move left him vulnerable, and so a slight diagonal scar was carved on his chest. His white collar shirt now split in halves exposing his wound, all stained with his own blood. His black jacket now opened, slightly ragged by Raphael's sword. Both blood and water dripped from Mathias' clothes, he was soaked in his own vital fluid. He stared straight into Raphael's eyes as he sunk deep into his opponent's insanity, slowly allowing him to be intoxicated by his blood lust.

The last attack, clearly forced Mathias to step back away from Raphael. Instead of words, Mathias showed Raphael how much he was enjoying this battle. His long hair scattered, falling over his forehead and on his shoulders. As he thought of what Raphael had said before in an attempt to excuse his ruthless behavior, Mathias could not avoid feeling an unyielding disgust towards both his opponent and himself. Yet all of it was not entirely unbearable, for the satisfaction of being able to spill his opponent's blood, even at the cost of his own, was a price worth paying it again, and again. Mathias rose his blade slowly, placing it next to his face, and then he swung it diagonally from left to right, cutting through air and water. His sword then held low, next to his right leg, dripping with Raphael's blood. He saw how Raphael fled towards the building, and Mathias knew that the outcome of this battle would be probably witnessed by the cold stone walls of that abandoned edifice.

"How can you believe in heaven if you say there's no hell? No, Raphael, what awaits us is a far more terrible place, one specially created for murderous monsters as ourselves. You have listed your sins, and for them you shall pay. I, on the other hand, had committed the most unforgivable sin, for I alone sent my own flesh and blood to oblivion!" Mathias yelled to the winds as he jumped and landed on the rusted stairway, running after Raphael, finally catching up with him. Bolts of lightning fell fiercely around the building, the storm intensified by the second.

Raphael dashed up the rusted stairway, ignoring the aching pain in his wounded leg. He and his ilk had been taught to block out pain, to the extreme, so they could prove to be the finest fighting machines. Yet blocking, this pain, was difficult - the flesh, of his leg and shoulder, were ripped and these wounds screamed with pain. He felt the wet and sticky blood coating his sweaty flesh and he smiled at the sensation. It had been a long time since he had been wounded, like this. Mathias was proving to be a fine source of entertainment! Let this battle continue as long as possible! The building, they were now fighting in, looked to be like an abandoned school. Raphael emerged into a deserted classroom. Look there - dozens of tiny little desks were strewn across the filthy floor. The blackboard, ahead of him, was dusty and cracked with age. The windows, of the classroom, were cracked and broken - a couple were missing glass completely. The rain fell onto the filthy floor and the wind whistled through the holes in the glass. Children had once sat in this classroom - they had hoped and dreamed for a bright future, tothe sweet and gentle tune of a woman's voice. Raphael could practically see them now, these long ago phantoms of innocence - all swept away by the burning tides of war. As Mathias emerged into the room, he would find it empty. Raphael would come up, behind him, and would attempt a deadly cut to his back. Then, with a malicious grin, he would reach for the man's wet hair and entangle it within his right hand. " I could've cut your throat then. But where would the enjoyment be, in that? I'm starting to have a little fun. Amazing, isn't it? Hold onto your sword, my dear Mathias, you'll be needing it. "

He would try to slam Mathias' head against the brick wall: One, two, three times. If Raphael succeeded - the man's blood would be splattered against the bricks and he'd be in a world of hurt. If Raphael didn't suceed he would leap backwards and grab the man by the throat. Raphael would try to hurl him right out of one of those broken windows and he'd follow - breaking through the glass and landing on the small balcony just outside.