Fated encounter *Flashback RP* (Invite only)

[anderson]

Anderson 5 years before:


The pendulum of time swings back.

The story barreling towards the future will stop for an instant, so that the past may be peered into. Though it was only the briefest of moments, its effects were wide spread and long lasting. The past must be known yet it is forbidden to be learnt. Therein lies the truth behind the masks. This story is of a naive youth turned into an ambitious leader of the most secretive enterprise within all of Britannia, and how his fated meeting with two people has changed his face. The succubus and the orphan. That should be within the one place known as the Euro Universe where this fated meeting took place as the young Doctor sought out an Immortal who was reportedly within this area; Hebe.

"Are you sure about this? That she is here? I... I don't know if this is the kind of place an Immortal would hang out in." the enthusiastic doctor remarked, the communicator whom he was speaking to was the one he was talking to. He was advancing within a poor district within the edicts of Munich, where love is oft to be the death of the lover under this succubus.

"Sir, why did her royal highness Princess Ami send me here? It doesn't make sense..." A pause followed, "It isn't treasonous what I suggest, I am just wondering that why, the Vice-Chief of the Geass Directorate was brought here... I know she isn't truly fond of me, but you could've sent at least a bodyguard to accompany me... poor people oft to be dangerous in the presence of someone wearing rich rags."

Sighing at the response, the Doctor looked around the alley ways for signs of this Immortal. The Chief of the Geass Directorate just wasn't being cooperative in this assignment.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

Dusk. A time of world's end where the refuse of the planet scurry back to their homes and pray for the miracle of returned sun. The dirtied streets of Munich hold such creatures, those who crawl in the underbelly and profit off the filth they find there. Down a knock-turn ally, 'round and 'round a maze of brick and brach, one can find a door in a wall. A simple door, a special door, one of rotten wood and peeling paint. A slide window opens for a secret phrase. The door creaks open and shadows darken a staircase south.

Dark men with dark purposes litter the steps, and the hallway it leads to. There is no way to know where the path to the left leads, but the path to the right ends with another door and two men with large muscles to guard it. It is too much a contrast with the slums of the underworld, all gold paint and white wash brick frame. A small bribe or a knowing look from beneath expensive designer sunglasses will let you through, but it's the least of your worries if the news you have or the company you seek isn't what the master wants.

The rooms and halls on the other side are glittering and glamoured with the spoils of stolen riches, casino chic fabrics and furniture. Men and women of the night and the bullet laze about, doing business with each other. If it can be done with a smile here, somebody's dying somewhere else as a price. In the far back lies a long couch wrapping the length of the back wall. A large man sits with gold chains draping his neck, legs propped up on the low mahogany table in front of him; it was strewn with cash and coin, guns, glasses and bottles of liquor. The man was Nikolai Ivankov, head man of the German branch of the Russian Mafia. A paramount of the ideal gangster, he was wanted for many crimes in which he was never convicted, though the mysterious disappearances of the witnesses or the subtle hand changes of the universal negotiator, the dollar sign, may be a cause.

But it was not this danger of a man who is the most dangerous. That role belonged to his companion on the couch. A small, pale girl, barely a woman, lay on her side on the pillows beside him. Her bleached hair (though from what?) curled unevenly over startling green eyes slit over pale cheeks. She wore very much, or very little, depending on one's opinion. Layers and layers of scarves formed her clothing, leaving the entirety of her legs bare down to the green panted tips of her toes. One arm was stretched out to the table, hand clenched.

She dropped the rough, carved multi-sided dice onto the small round cloth on the wood and watched as they fell in the triangles of the circle, the many dots on every side facing up as they stopped spinning. The girl leaned up on her arms and counted the number of dots facing up and where they fell on the cloth.

She looked at Nikolai and cocked her head. "'Count your coins and eye your treasures. A strange crow will steal something invaluable.' We have company in our little paradise."

[anderson]

At first, Philip had his suspicions that the city might not even harbor the Immortal at all, just a mistake made by intel back in the Directorate. Just a way for the chief to rid of Philip with perhaps Ami's hand in this. Despicable move really, but he has no choice but to follow orders. Whether he likes it or not. Unfortunate really that he has been put in this tough position even with his best intentions to help people out. Oh well, better to spend more time looking than complaining, as it'll all be a needless waste.

The reports were simple really, that the Immortal should be in league with the Russian Mafia within this area. If only Anderson had some connections, he can simply call in a few friends to do him favour... ah, how satisfactory it'll be, alas, he doesn't have the luxury of such a thing as contacts to use to make this job easier, just go into the field and handle this all on his own without further support from central.

Although the building he stared at the moment was a true testament of decay within this ancient relic of a city. The door was old and should probably be some sort of den by sorts, as it was obvious that it was inhabited by dwellers, the underworld dwellers that is. Criminals, vagrants, low life's, druggies and especially the mob. Although as far as he heard from stories, the mob can be a very dangerous thing to mess around with. In that instance, the Doctor held his saber very closely, tightly holding it by the hilt as it was still in it's sheathe, he knows that he has a lack of experience with firearms, therefore his fencing is up to standards into slaying those men... even though they'll just use firearms and he'd best rely on his luck before going into violence... in fact, he'd be in such a huge disadvantage, best not even go into violence at all.

Although, before he can even knock the door, it opened as he was simply slammed by a fist to the stomach by the biggest and strongest brute, falling to his knees from the pain as he gasped as a result, he was dragged along within the casino. The stupid goombas neglecting to take off the sheathe by his sword, and it's obvious that he stood out from everyone within this joint, he was too clean, he wore clothing that were expensive, and appeared a bit too 'soft' within this harsh slum. He cursed the fact that he was taken down without even a fight, and that he was caught by surprise ever so quickly. Shame really.

The crowd jeering at him, sneering 'Britannian scum', slurring out other insults towards Philip, yet there was no sort of lynching, that was the Russian mafia's job. The Doctor was thrown across the ground, finally regaining his control over his body, overcoming the pain that comes from the slam. Wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth. Still silent as he eyed the two, one was a rather intimidating presence of a man, and the other was a girl, no older than 14 year old from the looks of it.

"You there! The girl, you must be the Immo--" There was an abrupt silent resultant from the brute slamming his fist against his chest once more. Falling to his knees once more in pain, this time, instead of spit, blood spewed out his mouth from the pressure of the hit. "Learn some manners, asshole... Boss, we caught this Britannian rat prowling outside our joint, what should we do with him?" The thug asked, holding the Doctor by the back of his collar.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

Nickolai sat up from his slouch on the couch, frowning. He looked into the bemused eyes of Omega, sprawled on her side next to him, fingers toying with her freaky little bone dice. He was on the better side of forty years in organized crime, and this little äåâî÷êà weirded him out more than any of it. But she was his partner, had taunted him for more than ten years with her weirdness and had given him the greatest asset in his arsenal; the Geass of Strength. He had wanted his entire life to be able to surpass everyone, now he could get others to bend to his will, intimidate into submission. The power of it had escalated and now he had to wear dark glasses all the time, but otherwise, life was roses and vodka. And a pest stealing from him would suffer just like everyone else.

The casino doors burst open as Mikhail and Boris dragged in a smaller blond man. He was most definitely not German or Russian, if the dainty little uniform and sword said anything. The clientele laughed and jeered at him, right up until he pointed at Omega.

"You there! The girl, you must be the Immo--" Boris slammed his fist against his chest and Blondie was down once more, spitting blood. "Learn some manners, asshole... Boss, we caught this Britannian rat prowling outside our joint, what should we do with him?" The thug asked, holding the stranger by the back of his collar.

Nickolai stood and walked around the table to stand in front of the intruder. "Kill him. Slice him up and stick him outside the Brit embassy. Show them how we greet the pigs in Munich." A cheer rose up and the crowd raised their glasses in toast.

Once more with feeling~

She watched as the Crow was dragged into the room, beaten and forced to his knees. Nicki-baby stood tall for him like Adonis made of muscle and declared his demise. She lifted herself from her nest and tip toed around the glass and gold of tabletop decoration.

The eight dice juggled in her hands as she cocked her head and spoke over the din. "Reign in your bulls. The naive matador has a stunning blade. I wish to see him use his wit." She stared Nikolai down unblinking until he stepped aside and had his grunts let the man go. She hopped off the table and went to the Crow. Balancing on on leg, Omega lifted his face, toes under his chin. "Speak or forever hold in pieces."

[anderson]

"Kill him. Slice him up and stick him outside the Brit embassy. Show them how we greet the pigs in Munich." A shade of despair descends down on the Doctor, naive as ever as he still carries a disbelief, a disbelief of the fact this might be an end to his life, his short 20 years of life... it was quite a terrible thing, to have lived this shortly, to learn all these secrets upon joining an organization dedicated to studying them... and only to die off quickly without even a word of good bye to his family.

Perhaps this could be his end, from the mob... no... they are no mobs, they are a bunch of low lives, they have no other qualms but to kill, they are nothing but pigs taking the guise of wolves... it was naive of him to hope for an easy audience with the Immortal, the girl he saw, the reports of a 14 year old... and yet, somehow, like a guardian angel, she extended his life a few seconds with a simple statement.

"Reign in your bulls. The naive matador has a stunning blade. I wish to see him use his wit." This was a second chance into life, although it truly piqued his curiosity, did his knowledge of her immortality save his life? Or was it simply him that interests her? His attention now hers to hold, "Speak or forever hold in pieces."

What a melodramatic message, doesn't really hold inspiration, but then again, he simply needs to come up with a response, try something witty, just what could he do to save his life? That man, just why was he wearing a sunglasses inside the building? Could it be that perhaps he has the Geass? Something Philip has become rather familiar to... perhaps he can use that to his advantage. That definitely re-affirms his suspicions that the girl who chose to 'save' his life by granting him a few seconds is an Immortal.

"I'd rather be alive... and I know that you prefer to stick with big players from the reports... but just why with a lowly mobster? You don't deserve this, why not opt for the better? The bigger fish? I come from an organization... no, I am the 2nd in command to an organization that dedicates itself to studying Geass, and you have recently come into interest with the organization... would you happen to share their interest..? Since we are the bigger fish... we have the Britannian military under our wraps, this organization is none other than the Geass Directorate... not some lowly group of lowlives and scumbags... you do not deserve this brute, you do not deserve them, you deserve this organization instead.. what do you say?" Philip offered, at least it was a desperate gamble, insulting his killers by besmirching their names as low lives, therefore this gamble hopefully will do it, otherwise he'll have to resort to running off if he has the chance and call for back up, something he lacks at the moment.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

The Crow grabbed at her boon like a dying man to water.

"I'd rather be alive... and I know that you prefer to stick with big players from the reports..." She cocked her head. Reports? Was she such an item to this man that he had sent underlings to catalog her footprints in the path of time?

"But just why with a lowly mobster? You don't deserve this, why not opt for the better? The bigger fish?" She raised an eyebrow and tossed a die into her opposite hand. "I come from an organization... no, I am the 2nd in command to an organization that dedicates itself to studying Geass, and you have recently come into interest with the organization..." She barked a laugh. An or-ga-ni-za-tion devoted to studying her and her ilk. There were many of those, at some point or another. All were consumed by their zeal for power. One more was no different. Neither was appealing to her preference for the powerful.

"Would you happen to share their interest..? Since we are the bigger fish... we have the Britannian military under our wraps,-" The military? "- this organization is none other than the Geass Directorate... not some lowly group of lowlifes and scumbags... you do not deserve this brute, you do not deserve them, you deserve this organization instead.. what do you say?"

The tension of the room had grown thick enough to cut, but she saw none of this. The Geass Directorate of Britannia. She had not heard of hide nor hair of the Ge-ass Directorate since the time of Charles, when she had suggested to her weaker little brother perhaps a study of the thing known as Geass would be interesting to explore. The boy had eaten it up and helped his chosen brother kill thousands. It had been great sport.

This little man, this unassuming bug on the wall, worked for the resurection of her greatest amusment. She cracked her impassive face into a wide grin, teeth flashing white, and her eyes narrowed to thin green slits.

She opened her mouth to speak when she realized someone else had beaten her to it. Thing 1, who had brought in the Crow. He kicked him in the side, shouting, "Fuckin' Brit! Who the hell are you to say we're lowlifes! We're the guys who're gonna blow you away-" She was quite sure that he would have gone on to give what was sure to be a very impressive rant, but he was annoying. In a smooth move, she grabbed the gun from the back of his pants, removed it, pointed it under his chin and pulled the trigger. Thing 1, as he no longer had a head, fell silent and fell over.

She looked blankly at the corpse and poked it with her foot. "Don't talk while I'm talking." She turned back to the Crow and bent down, balancing on her toes and leaned her elbows on her knees, chin resting in her hands with the gun still fit snuggly in her palm.

The blood had fallen in a large spray, some of which rained on the blond. She sucked a drop from her pinky and raised her eyebrows. "And what was it, exactly, that you assumed I would do for you in this or-ga-ni-za-tion of yours?" She couldn't help the knowing smirk from forming on her lips.

[anderson]

Throbbing pain. A sensation that Philip should get used to as he took in the pain, blood already flowing out his mouth but he spat it to the side. Contempt at everyone in this room, just why was he so naive? Were he to get out of here... should he have his revenge? Most likely. Flatten this damned joint to the ground? Definitely. Go back on his ideals, break loose. These thugs had no conscience... why should he have one as well? But these were simply questions to ponder at, he has morals, just how far until he abandons them? Given that he is an up and proper man, perhaps never.

Morals isn't supposed to be lowered to match a standard to flounder, it's a statement of someone's conscience, that you aren't willing to backdown just because of something... yet everything seemed bleak, and lessons are learnt from mistakes... this one was one of them. How melodramatic..

Shocking really, that the man whom he has been calling a low life was killed before his eyes. A guardian angel in the making... but is he sure she might be an angel there to save his life... or the opposite, a devil? The way she remorselessly killed him... without even thoughts for his family or his future, throwing lives away like a dirty tissue discarded into a dumpster.

"And what was it, exactly, that you assumed I would do for you in this or-ga-ni-za-tion of yours?"

He smiled. "Everything." Pushing against the floor, he stood up once more from his position, his hand tightening it's grasp over the handle of his saber. "You have a great importance as an Immortal, the fact you bestow the Geass upon others... all that knowledge, is what we require from you." He says smugly.

Looking at the brute of a man who seems to be the leader of the place, he pulled out his saber, pointing it at him. "Judging him, I believe he won't let you go without a fight... so I propose we deal this in a dual, sword against sword. The winner gets the dame, and the loser eats death. What say you, brute?" He asked in a rather polite tone, Nikolai was the asked, and to that he shall await the answer.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

"Everything." Pushing against the floor, the blond stood up from his position, hand tightening it's grasp over the handle of his saber. She followed him up and shifted her weight to one side, ruffling her hair with both hands and the gun. "You have a great importance as an Immortal, the fact you bestow the Geass upon others... all that knowledge, is what we require from you." She barked a laugh and grinned darkly. Required, like being with him was an honor a revered saint bestowed upon a lowly alter boy. She could forgive him his arrogance; he talked about her like a god. In another time, the thought would have driven her to beg Hera for forgiveness. Alas, Hera and her husband were long dead. Di-vine.

The Crow pulled out his saber, pointing it at Nikolai. "Judging him, I believe he won't let you go without a fight... so I propose we deal this in a dual, sword against sword. The winner gets the dame, and the loser eats death. What say you, brute?" So polite. And arrogant. She would have to take him aside at some point and explain that appealing to someone's honor in an opium den was akin to ordering milk at a hard liquor bar. Even if it was in a dirty glass.

Once more with feeling~

Nikolai couldn't help but be bemused as Omega blew away Boris and toyed with the Brit. Granted, she'd just killed one of his men but she had been lagging in her amusments for some time; the fact that she hadn't kill anyone (of his) until now was pure chance.

And now the cocky asshole was challenging him for her. He couldn't help it. He threw back his head and laughed. Nikolai crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Brits really are stupid, aren't they? Look at where you are; a word from me and three dozen guns riddle you like Swiss cheese." He put a finger on the side of the saber and pushed it to the left. "You want Omega? You actually think you can handle her? Boy, she has the loyalty of a cobra. Just as lethal. And whether I want her or not won't change a damn thing if she decides to go."

Nikolai took a step forward and leaned over, so the two could see each other over his sunglasses. He smirked, red-winged eyes glowing faintly. "A word of advice: be damn sure you want her." He stepped back and looked at Omega, who batted her eyes coyly at him. He reached up and pulled a clump of her hair. "Well?"

She hopped back and sang at the ceiling, "Bye-bye, Mein Lieber Herr. Farewell, Mein Lieber Herr. It was a fine affair, but now it's over~" She started dancing to the tune, humming in lieu of singing the lyrics. He rolled his eyes. "Just send a postcard once in a while. Now get the hell out. I have a war council in ten minutes and Boris over here isn't gonna boost moral." The two looked at the corpse and she shrugged. "He talked."

Omega went back to the table for her fortune teller cloth, bagged the dice with it and walked back to the Brit pig. "Well?"

[anderson]

"Brits really are stupid, aren't they? Look at where you are; a word from me and three dozen guns riddle you like Swiss cheese. You want Omega? You actually think you can handle her? Boy, she has the loyalty of a cobra. Just as lethal. And whether I want her or not won't change a damn thing if she decides to go." At first, the Doctor grimaced into the worst of frowns as his challenge was disregarded so easily much like that, his sword pushed out of the way from the man, honor and all notions of fighting a fair fight meant little to him, all zilch.

Anderson was seething with a sort of humiliation, his contorted features said so otherwise added with a sort of confusion about this whole entire ordeal that he was forced to go through. One thing though baffled him most was the brute's words.

"A word of advice: be damn sure you want her." An implication of sorts that the product he is receiving has a defect, perhaps a fatal defect that could spell bad for the Geass Directorate.

"Bye-bye, Mein Lieber Herr. Farewell, Mein Lieber Herr. It was a fine affair, but now it's over~"

"Just send a postcard once in a while. Now get the hell out. I have a war council in ten minutes and Boris over here isn't gonna boost moral."

"Well?"

Everything just happened quickly. The witch gave her farewell, the brute gave his sort of farewell, and before he knew it, he was walking outside the den, in a narrow street filled with tenements and all sorts of decaying buildings accompanied with the girl, blinking twice at the entire event. Jaws almost falling out of features. If the entire thing was THAT easy, just why was he sent here in the first place? A lowly aide could've taken his place.

Just what was it about this Immortal that made her so valuable to the Geass Directorate that he was sent in the stead of an agent instead? She appeared a bit... normal, if that could be used to describe her, if not deranged. She carried herself in a rather eery manner, as if the entire life of others were but simply a game to be played with the most delight. Perhaps a manipulator, or perhaps something akin a succubus of the old. Either one might be the case, for as far as the Doctor should note, he should be wary of her.

"So... I am your representative from the Directorate, I am up for any questions if you are wondering anything in particular." Philip politely offers, a sentimental way to put aside the awkward meeting that took place inside.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

It was done; the bewildered Crow sheathed his sword as Omega idly glided toward the door and out. Her clothes and further acutriments were behind her, left abandoned in the den of decit. They were momentary possesions; the brainless one would provide for her. Daylight graced her as she walked out the allyway entrance, her scarves flowing around her torso.

She dismisively debated her bare feet, but they would heal from any damage done.

"So... I am your representative from the Directorate, I am up for any questions if you are wondering anything in particular." He looked out of his confort zone. She smiled prettily at him, batting her eyes. She sniffed, lacing her arms with one of his, walking beside him. How lush, to be a blue eyed baby dropped in the lion's den. But perhaps he was merely playing a part, and was not so stupid. He was a member of her baby, after all.

"Do tell, sir. How is my dear brother's brain child after all these years? I lost interest in its projects after the demon king burned it to the ground." She spoke as a schoolgirl, all innocence and curiousity. She's found that acting her apparent age put others at ease, at times. She wondered if she would like what he'd tell her.

After all, it would be a shame to kill him after all this fuss.

[anderson]

It was a bit too close for comfort, the way she smothered herself against his arm, the way she eyed him... perhaps that man was right, perhaps she was like a cobra.

The eery friendliness that she showed in the form of smothers. It lengthened the feeling of weariness, deepening a suspicious feeling and a little fear added. Her eyes weren't that of an ordinary child, it lacked empathy. It was that one would see with someone content with dealing death, could this girl by the same?

"Do tell, sir. How is my dear brother's brain child after all these years? I lost interest in its projects after the demon king burned it to the ground." He shrugged at the statement as their path intermingled with a major street populated with activity yet barren with float mobiles, crowds were the vice here though as the Doctor passes through them with the girl tightly in his grasp. The mobiles were something invented based on the float systems of the past.

"It has been rebuilt to be fully operational once more but with a different goal than the last one. Drastically different in fact. There is no aim to achieve a doomed goal of global destruction and recreation by merging the present, future and past with one another, rather a goal of survival by bringing out the best within humanity and killing off the worst. A mad man's vision indeed, but it is plausible. Sure, it'll take several years, but for 'different' people such as yourself, time matters not." The reply went in the form of a boastful praise for the organization once more going back into it's heels and ready to be in operation.

[Hebe Ano Vasilikis]

The man-child led her out into the public air, the populace mingling about as they went about their business, trying to get to their abode's in time for dark. Alas, dusk was falling and she felt her inner glee rising. Night was a thing, an occurence as the burning orb in the sky rotated to it's next destination. But for all it's science, the fall of late hours was a dark and delicious thing. Hearts clenched, pulses raced, minds scrambled as untoward thoughts drove them mad. After all, fear not the fall of night but what lurks beneath the shadows.

She wasn't sure who penned the phrase, but she was sure he had met Dante one evening in his Inferno.

Dark was here and for all the open square, there was no better place for a heartless one. How di-vine.

"It has been rebuilt to be fully operational once more but with a different goal than the last one." He speaks, the fair of hair. "Drastically different in fact. There is no aim to achieve a doomed goal of global destruction-" No? Why not? "-and recreation by merging the present, future and past with one another, rather a goal of survival by bringing out the best within humanity and killing off the worst." Well that was no fun. She idly glance back and wondered if Nickolai had locked the door yet. "A mad man's vision indeed, but it is plausible. Sure, it'll take several years, but for 'different' people such as yourself, time matters not." He was boastful, as if he was at the head of a great and terrible revelation.

She scoffed and released his arm, opting to walk ahead toward his vehicle. She was sure it was his; no other in this town would travel in so gaudy and advanced a machine than a Britannian.

Night was upon them; passer-by's were retired to their cages and street lamps were switching on. Not that there was any light over here; the mafia enjoyed their little allyway scares. She stepped to the dark side of the contraption and turned to face him, grinning. In the shadow, all that was visible were her eyes, faceless, disembodied.

"We shall see," she hissed. "Perhaps, my little one, you shall have a change of heart. After all," she giggled. It bounced off the walls like echos. "Your kind change their minds so easily."

Exit

[anderson]

(OOC: Meh, sorry for the long time it took to post, extremely busy.)

Philip fancied a stroll in a town filled with culture such as this. Ornaments were plentiful and souvenirs were all around to buy off of, props up the house really. The dress of attire the crowd seem to be average interested Anderson. They all seem to be wearing rich burgundy clothing which seems most appropriate for nobles despite how classes were abolished in this part of the world so rife with democracy.

Darkness would soon envelope the area as the Doctor saw fit to take refuge from the night. In other words, take a nap or just get out of this slums that the worst echelons of society fancy going around in. In the process of escorting her to his private limousine installed with float systems, he frowns at Hebe, a bit disheartened looking when he saw those two glaring emerald orbs staring right at him.

"We shall see. Perhaps, my little one, you shall have a change of heart. After all. Your kind change their minds so easily." That cryptic message was embed into the back of Anderson's head, curious as to why she said such a thing, but for now, he has invited a treacherous soul into his den. Could it be that the Mafia gangster was right about her? Only time will decide.

[EXIT]

[Aloysius Drebbel]

Topic complete!

Philip Augustus Anderson: (2758 Words, Normal RP) 276 Exp, 276 Credits
Hebe Ano Vasilikis: (2714 Words, Normal RP) 271 Exp, 271 Credits

Credits and EXP have been rewarded.