Project Genesis - Episode Seven: Zion against Babylon

Blind Hemingway

Ancient Iwaku Scum from 2006.
Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Douche
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Surrealism, Surreal Horror (Think Tim Burton), Steampunk, Sci-Fi Fantasy, Spaghetti Westerns, Mercenaries, Dieselpunk, Cyberpunk, Historical fantasies
Zion against Babylon

<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value=""></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>

" "I say fly away to Zion, fly away home...One bright morning when my work is over, man will fly away home... "
Rastaman Chant​

Thousands of years in the past, when God was still very active in the minds and the hearts of the people, there stood a large fortress that surrounded the then pagan wilderness of Israel. The pagans inside proclaimed that this fortress was impossible to conquer. However, the wily King David managed to sneak into the fortress and made the city of Zion his.

From then on Zion became the place of peace and connection to all things holy.

The nation of Semile, views itself as the New Zion. The only way to reach Heaven is to follow its religion and culture.

There is nothing beyond the Gates of Zion that is worth fighting for, since God has ordained this land for all the righteous people of the world. The vast majority of people feel this way. As it stands not everyone believes Semile is a Zion but Babylon, an oppressing and exploiting system and a place of evil. However, the Resistance has been been crushed, leaving the last vestiges of free thought to the Messiah and her Prophet.


Every era has myths of a golden age or of a promised land where life has been or will be perfect and Sahar beliefs that she is the one to bring the Promised Land to her peoples.

In the midst of war, there stands one man that has the power to influence Sahar like no one else has before.

Unlike Dayne or Altair, his heart remains pure and innocent. Even in the face of a messiah and death, he remains the closest thing she has to a friend. Just like within each of us, his innocence is the spontaneous, trusting child that, while a bit dependent, has the optimism to take the journey on.

His promise to her is that life need not be hard.

Ironic enough, his name is Zion.
Life had become fairly routine for the people in Northern Semile. The Infinity Rebellion had leveled much of the once prosperous industrial belt of the region and now a decade later only a brave few decided to pick out a living in such a spartan landscape. Most of these people were new comers to the realm of Semile and had not become citizens, nor would they ever be. The stigmata of the Infinity Rebellion was still hard pressed on the Old Guards minds and therefore the North would always be traitorous.

One such soul was Chestel. She was a part of the Norfolkians that used the abandoned region as a half way base towards Canadian water ways and the Atlantic Ocean. This late afternoon was a rather chilly one, so she wore a heavy wool blanket. As she next to the fire, her young pit bull was snoozing on her lap. It was then that the dogs she watched over for the Norfolkian military personal started howling with distress.

"Hey guys, what's up?" She asked as lifted the puppy into her arms. The dogs continued to bark. Having a second sense to these sorts of things Chestel ran over towards the nearest window and saw smoke rising from one of the run down metal towers....
Chestel held Brisket tightly to her chest while enfolding the puppy into the blanket, making a make-shift sling so that she could have her hands free while she quickly tore out of the area to where the smoke poured out from one of the towers. Brisket whined as they they started coming closer, obviously not happy with what it was smelling, and Chestel had no problems understanding this. The smoke smelled horrific, and it clung to the inside of her nose. She made her way through a torn mess of metal shrapnel and found at the dead center of it, two people.

Brisket whined more as Chestel circled around the two until she was able to see some indication of who they were. Ok, one of them was a woman.... she had something.... on her arm...

Chestel was reminded suddenly of stories told about a Norfolkian being on the inside... Something.... some rumor of.... a mark on her arm.... what was the mark?

Brisket seemed to start wheezing from the smoke, and Chestel wanted to follow suit, but she peaked a little at the woman's arm.


Shit, it WAS her. That one person everyone mentions at LEAST once every three days. Chestel fumbled with her radio before calling out where she was, and a description of two people she found. She didn't know exactly what to do, but gently moved the woman, trying to make sure that she wasn't hurt severely, doing the same with the unknown man. He had a broken leg, while the woman was more or less perfectly unscathed. Luck of the draw, Chestel guessed idly while covering her mouth and nose with the blanket, doing the same for her pup, unable to stand the smell of smoke much longer.

She waited a little longer on her feet before finally sitting down closer to the woman, keeping a close eye on the both of them, just in case.


"It was confirmed by an informant this morning. Dante was killed in the St Meno incident. Remaining Death Brigade lieutenants were hunted down after the studio attack. We estimate a total collapse in the Brotherhood's chain-of-command and less than 30% active cells remaining."

Gustave keyed to the next page of his PDA, scrolling through the data.

"The Southern Precinct reports positive strike on the Tesla Hijackers. We had a Grab Squad following Asheron Vivaldi, a Brotherhood target. He led us right to them. Invesitgators claim it was a second Infinity Rebellion in its infancy. The Tesla wreckage was found 20 miles out in the ocean..."

The Colonel lowered his slate, closing the rest of the report and looking up. "Say something, Thaddeus."

It was strange to hear his first name spoken, but still Dayne did not turn. While the incident in the cathedral had given Gustave a new lease of life (the first time he had fired a gun after a 5-year desk job), Dayne had only become more withdrawn, a shadow of himself.

The Minister stood behind a glass screen and watched the hospital room where Eros lay comatose. The girl was still beautiful, despite the array of tubes and surgical needles lodged in her skin. With a wall of monitors tracking every second of her slumber, Eros was reduced to a lullaby of bleeps and whirrs. She was perhaps more machine than Dayne now...

...and certainly less human.

In one mechanical hand, Dayne clutched the bloodwork report the doctors had brought him.

"Tell me you're happy," Gustave said, his gruff voice cutting through Dayne's thoughts. "One Zero dead and two..." he tapped the viewing screen and corrected, "THREE renegade Zeroes captured. The Rebellion is in tatters. You have everything you wanted."

It wasn't so much a sense of betrayal that Dayne felt as a sense of bemusement. The Lancelay family - the ones who recommended Eros to post of junior minister - had been rounded up by the Thought Police. They were being processed now, but he doubted there would be a clear answer to why they had sent Eros here. To kill him? To expose the secrets of the Inner Party? How could that little girl do anything, when she had been so weak as to fall for the Devil and almost forfeit her life to protect him?

She was a Zero... and she had failed in everything she was meant to do... just like Rhiannon and Setem, the other two mutants who languished in the Ministry vaults. They had each suffered for their frailty... their compassion...

Gustave's hand gripped his shoulder, a manly gesture - the way he would slap one of his cronies in the officer's mess. "Forget the bitch!" he barked, "She would've slit your throat in your sleep. We should terminate her now!"

Dayne's head snapped to the side, glaring along the length of Gustave's arm and into his eyes. For a moment there was rage - pure and unchecked in his glare - but then he inhaled. His face settled again and vanquished all emotion.

"Contact General Aldaire. I want him in my office in two hours. Tell him to bring Rhiannon and Setem with him, under guard."

Gustave tried to hold his friend's gaze, to communicate his disapproval in the silent ways they knew so well - but Dayne had already turned his eyes back to Eros. It was clear that the conversation was over.

"As you wish, Minister." The Colonel's slow reply said it all: he would follow Dayne against his better judgment till the very end, for the simple truth of their friendship was that Gustave needed Dayne's dreams as much as Dayne needed Gustave's candour. For a man who had lived his life surrounded by sycophants and a man who had lived his life with hollow soldiers, they were each the other's salvation.

The Colonel straightened slightly, as if coming to attention, then marched from the hospital room and called for his vehicle from one of the Custodian guards. And as he left, Dayne's hand opened and let the bloodwork report flutter to the ground. He pressed his face to the viewscreen, watching Eros dream, pale and unknowing of the wars beyond.

And for the first time in twenty-one years... Dayne suffered a moment of doubt.

[SUMMARY: Colonel Gustave reports the collapse of the Brotherhood and the Infinity Rebellion. But Dayne is distracted as he watches Eros in a coma. He decides to speak with Jerek, Rhiannon and Setem and orders them brought to his penthouse office.]
Only once or twice had Setem heard the noise, a noise so specific to this one area. This was his cell, pretty much put on reserve for when he got out of control or for when the public needed someone to blame. The hum of the fan next to the warden's desk was all that could be heard, aside from the occasional throat clearing the owner himself did. Just what did happen down here? Relaxation and impending doom and a visit from an old friend. "Yes High Priest come on through."
"Could I have a moment alone please." The guard nodded and walked off outside the large steel door. The creaking told the captives it was closing once again. It was a small room and actually significantly cleaner than the others where the heretics were usually sent. There was a lot to be done with color though, the room just echoed a monotone grey that could depress even the happiest person. "Setem, I cannot stay long. Understand that nobody was intended to die." Setem sat on the steel frame bed his head looking down at the floor cluttered with dehydration packets usually put in shoe boxes. "I know you hate what has happened but you have to grow up. There is no perfect world where nobody dies. There is no perfect story to tell, role to grab, or life to live. If you keep living in that world you'll only know misery."
"And if I live in your world I believe in misery." Setem calmly said. "Do you remember, what the church was like before our creation; before the Zeroes and the confusion caused by them?"
"No I don't." Tobias replied and not even Setem could tell if he was lying or being sincere.
"Good because I don't either. Everything before being a guinea pig is a blur, but that was corrected come Sahar, the artificial messiah, crafted by men for something more than men. I never joined Crusade to live in this religion, to become a 00, or to worship a messiah. I joined because I thought a world without misery was possible."
"It still is."
"I know that, but that path just keeps on getting covered in blood; and soon enough it will be stained red just like the grass next to it, the burnt trees surrounding it, the wasteland beyond it. I even have lost sight of that path, Tobias. What do I do? What can I do?"
"That's for you to decide and now I need to leave." Tobias stepped away from the cell and back toward the exit. "You know, the path seems to be visible to those who seek it." With those final words the warden came back in and Setem was left to think about them.

[SUMMARY: Setem and Tobias talk revealing the 00 is nearly mentally shattered by the St. Meno incident. Metaphors are passed around like candy until Tobias finally leaves giving Setem some food for thought.]
Location: Southern Semile, Zion's Home

Several days had past since the destruction of Saint Meno's. Sahar and Zion were now several miles away from the shelled out building. None of the Crusaders had noticed when she had disappeared into the night; so once again she had become a white haired phantom.

Her ideal castle was no more, so now she was forced to go wandering around the streets of Southern Semile once again. That is until Zion had finally revealed where he lived. It was an old building that Nova Corps owned for whatever reasons,so no citizens moved into it. Luckly, it was not far from the entrance of the Underground City, if they would need to make use of the passage ways again...

"Welcome, to my home!" Zion then said as he opened the door to the only place he had ever called home.

The ground floor was a flat grayish white in color, and had fluorescent lighting. It was much more open and with a lot more ceiling clearance, clearly a place where machines were crafted. Though, it was past it's heyday of business. Each of the four walls held something different. The South wall was the one with the large metal garage door that had the Nova Corps logo stamped on it, there were smaller access door next to it. The East wall was lined with cardboard boxes filled with spare parts and other miscellaneous things that kept a vehicle running, all packed away and categorized on large shelves. The West wall was lined with four different large old metal tool chests. Also a couple heavy floor jacks rested along this wall. Lastly the North wall was where the metal steps to the living quarters were located. Along with a small office like area at the bottom of the steps. A couple of old fashioned filing cabinets rested along the wall. An old battered metal desk with it's share of coffee stains sat next to a frumpy old sofa. A computer sat on top of the desk and a taped up old office chair was parked in front of it. Next to the sofa was the doorway to the storage room which held more old spare parts and miscellaneous other items from upstairs.

Zion clearly lived better off than Sahar would have assumed.

She then sat down on the sofa, which then sank under her bum. It smelt like a wet dog. The fact was that Zion had found it tossed out in the street and decided it would make a good addition. He especially liked the pea green colored fabric. Sahar then yawned; she hadn't gotten a decent night's rest in over 48 hours.

"Go… ahead and sleep on the sofa…There is a room upstairs… second floor… with an actual bed if you would rather sleep in it…" Zion said jerking his thumb upward.

Sahar had already drifted off.
"Man, seven days! Can you believe it?" Zion dropped onto an old worn beanbag decorated with at least a dozen patches of different shapes, colors, and patterns. The beanbag was pretty big and had lost a fair amount of its stuffing. But Zion still kept it around. Why not. It wasn't harming anyone. He stretched his legs out and propped his head against the side of one of the sofa's armrests, on the other side of where Sahar's head rested.

Zion pulled out the toad from one of his pockets and examined it. "Hey, you came out really nice from all that rossling." The toad just stared at him in response. "Oh, right. Your pond." He set it down. "There ya go, buddy." He watched the toad jump away to the little kiddie pool of dark green water in the corner. It had snails and leaves and all kind of stuff in there. Suffice it to say, only the snails and the toad liked it. Zion preferred to play in the giant sandbox he'd made next to it!

Zion pulled out the iPod and began to tap his feet to the beat. When he found the playlist he was looking for, he clasped his hands behind his head and yawned. Then he closed his eyes for a bit.

[Summary: Zion talks to himself! And then listens to music ...]
Had it been a week? Had it been a month? Dark rings lined Yuri's bloodshot eyes. he Surveyed the near empty room before him, it would soon be filled with those who had the stomach to stay, those few who still believed. The words echoed in his head.

[size=+2]WE ARE THE BROTHERHOOD[/size]


[size=-2]WE ARE THE BROTHERHOOD[/size]

[size=-4]I AM THE BROTHERHOOD[/size]


They were in an abandoned factory near northern Semile all the old meeting places were no longer safe, there was no telling what those cowards had told the government. The brotherhood's back was broken but it was far from dead, it just needed help. That was here their guests came in, Yuri had spoken to them personally after Dante's death but the real reason for keeping them here would only be revealed tonight.
Brotherhood Meeting Place, North Semile...

Lieutenant Carson was pacing, kicking up the dust of the factory floor. His body fell in and out of the shafts of sunlight that streamed through the grimy windows. He was dressed in work overalls - his usual cover - but the hook-shaped scar on his cheek gave away the harshness of his life. His jaw was clenched, his brow heavy. Yuri could tell that that the will of this long-serving soldier was broken. Fergo and Manson had been killed at St Meno, while Swarts had made a run to the south with his family. Freeman had vanished altogether - probably bagged by the Thought Police. And so it was that Carson had come here alone. Sure, he had a few good boys left who he could call up, but his unit - the well-oiled team that had pulled off the studio attack - was dead and gone. And with the Death Brigade in tatters, it was doubtful if Carson could even call himself a lieutenant anymore.

Unlike the man who snapped at him now.

"Any chance you can you sit still for one damn minute?" said Police Lieutenant Lars, who was sat on an oil-barrel in the corner. The Brotherhood double-agent looked a mess. His head was bandaged, one arm was in a sling and he still could not sit right because of the stitching on his side. His breathing suggested a few broken ribs as well. Lars hadn't told anyone about his adventures in the sewers - even Yuri who had been close by when Sahar collapsed the tunnel. But that was Lars for you - he only revealed what people needed to know. The man was officially on leave so was dressed in his casual clothes, a leather jacket draped across his shoulders.

"You're pretty relaxed for a traitor," Carson answered, still pacing as he glared at Lars.

"Must be the morphine." The police lieutenant put his feet up on another barrel and tried to fish out some cigarettes with his good hand. "Besides, in the last 48 hours I've had a cyborg and a demigod try to kill me, and they've both failed. Life is good."

"You fucking hit your head or something?" Carson's temper flared.

"Repeatedly." Lars lit up and blew a ring of smoke. "And you should relax, Lieutenant. The Thought Police will spot you a mile off 'less you turn that frown upside down."

Another voice sounded across the warehouse. "I thought it was your job to keep the Police off our backs." Stepping through the side entrance, Deirdre approached the others gracefully. The young wiz-kid had his cleanly-pressed white jacket on and his sword strapped across his back. As usual, he was the best dressed of the Rebels and the youngest, a cocky smile playing about his face.

Lars leant back on the oil drum, dragging on his cigarette. "I was in hospital, kid. And where the hell were you?"

Deirdre stopped next to Yuri, intelligent eyes giving the sniper a once-over before he answered Lars. "The Tower of Solon got wise to the hack. Most of my team were traced and I had to put the others to sleep. We're in hiding now." He glanced at Carson. "So you can cram your commando shit up your ass. My team's on vacation. These aren't grunts I'm working with, Carson - they're good people."

They had once been called the Four Horsemen. While Dante's cell came up with the strategy, Carson's cell would get down and dirty, while Lars's cell would keep an eye on the inside respone and Deirdre's cell would provide the tech support. Between them these four men had run most of the active Brotherhood operations in Semile, and as the Tesla Attack had shown it was only Dante's will that had kept the teams from tearing at each other's throats. Now Lars's cynicism and Deirdre's facetiousness were more than Carson could handle. The soldier rounded on Deirdre, bringing his face close to the boy's.

"My men died for the cause, you snot-nosed little prick! What've your hacker fags ever done?"

"We are the Brotherhood," muttered Lars as he took another drag and watched the two men argue.

Canadian Borderlands, North Semile...

Brisket suddenly panicked, wriggling around in Chestel's arms.

"Hey, what..."

The puppy got free and dashed behind the girl's back. She was about to turn and retrieve him when something made her freeze.

The man's eyes were open.

Altaire was sitting amidst the wreckage of the ship and tower, his body seeming remarkably intact given the state of debris around him. Through the hanging strands of his hair he had fixed his gaze on Chestel, and she soon realised why Brisket was afraid.

Slowly, as if stupified, the girl unslung her shotgun, letting the blanket fall from her mouth as her breathing became rhythmic. The man's eyes never left her, and she seemed to understand. She took the shotgun in both hands, propping the butt on the floor, pulling the barrel towards her face, opening her mouth. The man was starting to get up, and Brisket was barking, but Chestel no longer cared. She put her mouth around the barrel of the shotgun and pressed her thumb to the trigger, pushing it back...

There was a snap and suddenly the man tumbled forwards, a howl of agony escaping his lips. It seemed to break the trance that Chestel was in and she blinked, aware of the taste of metal in her throat. With a start she wrenched the shotgun from her mouth and tossed it aside, eyes wide with the horror of what she was about to do. Her sense came back to her and she looked to see Altaire on the floor, writhing. He had tried to get away, even as he attacked her mind, but his leg had given out. It was now twisted underneath him and the man was almost biting the smoking ground to stop himself from screaming. He tried to crawl a little, but then the agony paralysed him.

He was going nowhere.

[SUMMARY: The remaining unit leaders of the Brotherhood bicker in front of Yuri. Meanwhile, Altaire tries to get Chestel to kill herself, but his powers fail and he ends up lying on the floor and writhing in agony.]
Chestel was feekig three emotions at once, and it was a bad combination of fear, anger and confusion. She picked up Brisket and held the pup close while backing up away from the man, closer to the unconscious woman as she tried to come up with some idea of how to react to this.... abomination of situations.

The sour and tangy taste of metal remained to be a bad taste in her mouth as she moved her tongue over the roof of her mouth, trying to rectify the taste by sliding her tongue around. She felt slightly sick and nauseous as the weight of what she had almost done settle inside of her. What made her want to try and perform that deed?... It had to be his eyes, right? She then gently put Brisket back on the ground, signaling for it to stay put.

She felt around for her radio, forgetting where it was for a moment, the anxiety making her thoughts and movements clumsy. She reported what had just happened. Then she did what she thought might be logical.

Chestel let herself get angry at what just happened. But not too much to loose control. Just a little to still her hand from shaking. Her eyes, focused on the man, or rather, glued to him, as she approached him as she took note of the leg and then placed a heavy-booted foot on the small of his back to keep him in place while she examined the leg.

"You're extremely stupid for thinking that you'd be left completely unscathed from whatever the hell happened here... I'm no doctor... but...."

Chestel paused for a moment while grabbing her blanket up off of the ground, biting into it, then pulled. It was hardy fabric, so she tried a few more times before the fabric gave way and tore as she pulled off a strip, which she used to bind the man's arms behind his back. She tried not to intentionally hurt him, but at the same time, made the wrapping tight. She looked at the leg again, rolling up the pant leg to look closer. The man had stood on an already fractured bone and in doing so, worsened his situation to a whole new level. Good for him that he hadn't broken his femur, which is considerably hard to do (But at the same, much more hindering), but instead, his calf was mangled in a sickening way. on one side, the fractured bone jutted out, making an unnatural lump under the skin, while on the other side, the bone protruded in a gruesome way. Had it just been a hairline fracture or something less complicated than what she was looking at, she could have helped him, had he not screwed the pooch with his current actions.

"You're not going anywhere." She stated coldly while going back to work on the blanket, chewing, biting, pulling. What a wonderful situation to not have a knife in. She finally tore off another piece while grabbing the man's head by a fistful of hair, the new pain possibly diverting his attention away from the agony caused by his leg, and then wound the long piece of torn cloth around his head, a tight blindfold. She then resumed working on the blanket, tying up his uninjured leg by keeping it in the folded position, his calf more than snugly tucked up against his thigh.

Chestel then tied that encumbered leg up to his bound wrists. A hogtie minus one leg. It might have been unnecessary, but it made her feel a little better. She then checked her shotgun and lowered herself into a crouch while she dug around in one of the pockets in her small pants and brought out a small draw-string bag. She loosened the length of string and reached in and retrieved a small, thin "v" shaped, white, plastic-like strip and fitted it onto her nose, a little below the bridge between her eyes., the constriction blocking her sense of smell. Now if she needed to shoot, she was prepared, and wouldn't be debilitated by her sensitive sniffer.

She looked over at the woman and then whistled three notes quietly. One high, the next note was low, and the last one was a middle ground. The pup instantly came bounding to her, and with one hand firmly on her shotgun, she cradled Brisket in the other as she glanced from the blinded and bound man to the unconscious woman.
Inside Yuri was seething leaning on a broken table brown with a thick layer of dust that seemed to be mostly make of rust his head bent, teeth grinding as he listened to the others his knuckles turning white until he could take it no longer.


All heads turned as with a loud thud Yuri brought his fist down on the table. Deirdre who had been closest jumped from the unexpected sound. Yuri stood upright staring into the eyes of each of the other members in turn. "IS THIS WHAT IS LEFT OF OUR GLORIOUS REVOLUTION?!?" he demanded his voice echoing against the walls. "A ROOMFUL OF SQUABBLING CHILDREN?" a wetness shone on his unwashed face cutting twin paths through the grime from the corners of each eye. "IS THIS WHAT WE HAVE BECOME? WE ARE MEANT TO BE BROTHERS FOR FUCK SAKES!! COMRADES! FRIENDS!"


Suddenly the energy seemed to leave him and his shoulders slumped in the wake of his outburst. No one seemed to speak or be able to look at each other. Lars took a long drag on his cigarette before throwing it down and stamping it out. "We have friends here, Yuri said finally. The ones that saves our lives at St. Meno by taking down that robot. They are Northfolkian and...." he paused for a second raising his eyes to those of the others "I am talking to them of a possible alliance. No matter what the Brotherhood must continue."
"Hoo boy..." Lonestar muttered as he listened in on the senior staff. He scurried off as silently as possible to where his SEAL compatriots had been waiting.

"Well? What'd you find out?" Steiner asked the sniper.

"That Yuri guy is gonna try an' talk ta us fer an alliance. We're ambassadors now." the Texan proudly replied.

"You get anything else from that meeting?" Willis asked. Lonestar paused to think.

"Lotsa shoutin'. Def'nitely upset 'bout the loss of the top boss. That Yuri guy might be their best choice fer the new bossman." The three SEALs agreed.


Eastport, Maine
Canadaland Border, North Semile...

"Chestel, TOC, report..." a radio operator said as he held down the transmit button of the old microphone in the white building the Norfolkians used as a Tactical Operations Center. On the front of the building was a fading, orange ring with the words 'United States Coast Guard' barely legible around it. "God dammit, Chestel get on the fucking radio!"

"She not answering again?" one of the Marines in the office asked as he lounged in an old couch reading an old newspaper.

"Again... Seriously, how did that bitch survive basic?" the radioman swore as he kept trying to raise Chestel.

"Why not just dispatch a team to see about it and be done with it?" the Marine replied before kicking back with the newspaper over his face. The radioman swore then switched frequencies on one of the other radios.

"Baker Team, I need you in watch sector two niner." Out on the water a small boat raced at high speed, moving between patrol points. The five man crew watching the water and the shores.

"TOC, this is Baker Team." the BMC driving replied into the radio headset. "What's the word?"

"I need you to land a team near Chestel's position. She's not answering the radio again..." The boat's crewmembers groaned.

"Alright, we'll check it out." BMC Wylde replied as he turned the boat around, almost losing the gunner on the bow, fifty cal and all. They put ashore, three men stepping off.

"Gepard, take point. Mosley rearguard." EN1 Smith said to his compatriots as they started inland. They trudged along nigh undisturbed wilderness, birds chirping as they always did.

"Think Chestel fell asleep again?" Gepard asked, sweeping the area with his '870 shotgun. The stock had been sawn off and a lanyard had been attached to the improvised grip, preventing someone from taking the weapon from him.

"Wouldn't doubt it... But if we let her go then who's gonna take care of the dogs? You?" Smith asked the pointman. Gepard simply shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. They found Chestel's post, radio and all.

"She left her radio again... Fuckin' A..." Mosley swore.

"So start calling for her." Smith said. The three pirates began calling out for Chestel as it began to drizzle.


-SEALs are not diplomats.
-Border guard action.
Location: Nova Corps HQ"What do idiots mean that you can't find her? That damned girl is my father's own creation and you can't track a fucking cyborg down?" Talbot ranted to a group of scientists and technicians. "Do you morons realize how much information that girl has within her? That robotic arm, father had so dearly given her was a state of the art computer, similar in design to the ones in use at the main labs. If she is killed, that means our foes will get thousands of documents on the 00s."

"Why would your father put so much classified information in one location?" One of the technicians asked.

"The Brotherhood and Infinity of course. Adeline was supposed to be my father's little Norfolkian slave girl but then he decided to grow a heart at the last minute and make her a part of his fruity Utopian idealism. That's also why he turned his back on society and allowed the Rebellion to spread throughout the North. An idealist dreamer, that's what he was."

"But doesn't she have a habit of seeking out 01 and trying to use her 'knowledge' to persuade him to do things for her?"

Talbot then placed his hand on the hard oak table, "Gentlemen, that's exactly why we must find her before she gets any wise idea of trying to escape her bondage to this company. Just like all the 00s, we can crush her just like how the Solomon Bots destroyed them. We have a general idea of where she is and that the Army found rebels amassed in the north without any weapons. If these reports are true, then it means that she would have made contact with 01 several hours in advance. Since she is an assassin, I don't see her trying to save anyone but the most important figure in the group. So, if we send in our shock troops, we can destroy the last remaining foes standing in the way of our dear Messiah's reign. "
Chestel simmered while glancing back and forth from the two survivors of whatever disaster occurred in the area. The woman still appeared to be out, but her breathing was less rhythmic than it had been, which was unusual due to the fact that it should even out during sleep. Oh well. The man still seemed to be in a great deal of pain and seemed very intent on hiding his agony.

Not that she cared about his pain. He had tried to make her kill herself.

She thought of how she might get revenge. She couldn't kill him.... that might look bad. She couldn't hurt him more, that would also reflect badly on her. So she sat there with Brisket lounging in her lap; she thought of how her shotgun had tasted.

She then glanced over at the man. He wasn't bad looking. But... he did seem to take too much pride in it. His hair seemed way too clean. Clearly beyond well-maintained. And then the idea struck her. If she couldn't hurt him physically, she could at least take a shot on his ego.

She didn't have a knife.... she knew that.... but there had to be some way.... She then spotted a gleam of light bouncing off of a odd shape near the woman. Looked like a lighter..... Looked kinda suspicious.

Her thoughts were put on hold as she picked up the piece. Like one of her fingers had triggered something, a blade seemed to extend from it. Talk about coincidental luck! Looked sharp enough. It could work.

She scrambled to get it and then approached the blinded and bound man before grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back as she pressed the blade against his neck.

"Stay still. Knives aren't my forte, and I don't want to accidentally kill you.... yet, at least..." She muttered into his ear before taking the blade away and then slowly started scraping it against his scalp, his hair coming away easily. Within moments, she had shaved away a considerable amount of hair from his skull.

"I would love to, though..... kill you, I mean.... Why the hell did you do that?... I was trying to help you...." Chestel felt angry as she realized how stupid she was for letting her guard down with these two. No doubt she was already in trouble for leaving her post.

"And what's more, you almost made me kill myself in front of Brisket.... Who the fuck would take care of her? She's like a daughter to me.... So tell me.... WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO MAKE ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF IN FRONT OF MY CHILD?! WHO?! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?! DO YOU REALIZE WHO THE FUCK I AM?!" Chestel grew angrier. She managed to nick him with the blade four times as more hair fell to the ground.

"I'M THE ALPHA BITCH, BITCH! I HAVE TRAINED COUNTLESS DOGS! YOU JUST HELPED ME WITH MY OPINION THAT ALL HUMANS ARE STILL FUCK UPS!" Chestel nicked him two more times. A lone patch of hair above his right ear remained. She wiped the blade clean on blanket and then started shaving it. Pissed. She. Was. Pissed.

"DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH THAT WOULD FUCK BRISKET UP?! DO YOU?! I JUST FUCKING RESCUED HER!" There. All the hair was gone. In total, he had bleeding little cuts all over his bald dome. Chestel felt a little better and then cleaned the blade. She felt slightly calmer. She retracted the blade and then gently placed it back on the ground, closer to the woman. Yeah. A little calmer

But not enough. She whistled to Brisket again and held her close while glaring darkly at the man.

"I will never forgive you. I will never leave you alone. I will hope that you get killed, and soon." Chestel snarled quietly. Brisket licked her cheek and she cuddled the puppy.

"I'm so, so, so, sorry that I almost did that, sweetheart... I'm sorry... I promise it won't ever happen again... I won't leave you.... I promise..." Chestel murmured comfortingly to the pup as it calmed back down and went to sleep.

(Chestel decides that Altair needs a makeover)
Semile says that I am just one of the countless specks of dust on this planet. But that is something I cannot comprehend....

I am now walking by a tranquil sea. Over to my left is a series of ruined buildings dating back to the times before the Ghost Bombs. There is something familiar about this place. So I decide to walk towards it.

I then see a young man with black hair that is kept in a rather sloppy manner and then I see a little girl, around the same age, running after him.

"WAIT UP!!!" She yells at him.

"No way! You can't always wait on me to help you with everything, silly." The boy says.

"But you're my brother! You have to!" The girl then stamps her foot into the sand. I laugh. How can one not laugh at the naivety of children?

"Remember when we did view ourselves as the world?" I jump when the young black haired boy appeared behind me. "It is too bad that I couldn't protect you after all the experiments... I failed you....I spent my final days searching for the sibling I thought I could find in the Messiah. Now I am going to return to the dust from which I came."

"Abraham?" I ask.

The child nods his head. "For too long, I have had no choice but to pretend that I know no fear. I am going to do one last deed for you, Adeline. I am going to destroy my nanobots. All I need you to do is wake up...."

The rush of reality came crashing down on Ada as shot up from her unconcoius state. She looked around confused. Off in the distance one of the ancient watchtowers was on fire. Ada quickly concluded that she was obviously no longer on the airship but how she managed survive was beyond her....

But for now, all she could do was slowly attempt to get up. Her body refused, so she did what any other human would do. She wept.
Chestel was startled by a soft sound, muffled, but obviously not to be mistaken for anything other than crying. At first, she looked over at the man, expecting it to be him, but he wasn't crying yet, just doing that kind of groaning-thing that people do when they're in pain and pride themselves too much to let a few tears fall.

No. It wasn't him at all... so then, who was it? As a drizzle started and seemed to turn the world to shades of gray, she felt a kind of calmness seep into her as the rain cooled her body. Logical and rational thinking took their normal places as she finally turned to the unconscious woman, who was, as it now appeared, not unconscious at all anymore. She was crying. It was a sobering sight to see a commonly-mentioned, practically legendary person turn out to be able to cry openly. Or maybe she didn't know that Chestel could hear her..... did she even know where she was, or that two other people were with her?

She sat there with Brisket in her lap, unsure of what to do, and then finally set her pup aside and slowly moved to the woman's side. Brisket stayed where she was, but moved slightly further away from the man, and Chestel didn't blame her at all. She moved, again, slowly, reaching to put a hand on the woman's shoulder-


Chestel jerked at her name being called, knowing instantly what was going on and sighed. She figured that she would deal with it after maybe trying to help this woman. She reached out again but again was disrupted.


She bit her lip and finally put a hand on the woman's shoulder. The rain was making everything slick, and for a moment, Chestel wondered if she heard the crying, or if it was just a trick of the wind or rain, but knew that wasn't the case. Chestel didn't know why the woman was crying, but felt she had a duty to try to help... plus... she didn't know how the team dispatched to find her would react to seeing this woman like this. So she tried to comfort her.

"Hey.... You ok?" Chestel murmured quietly as the drizzle seemed to pick up the pace. She grabbed the remainder of the blanket and draped it over the woman after trying to pat her off, attempting to be as non-evasive as possible. It was cold already, and to add rain to it.... on top of crying for what ever reason, that wasn't a good combination....

Brisket came stumbling over and laid against the woman under the blanket, licking at her..... real arm.... false?.....Fake..... Chestel wondered about the different names for a non-biological arm for half of a milisecond before getting back to point. Hell, the man could freeze for all she cared, but the woman seemed.... slightly less.... threatening, Chestel, assumed as she tried to keep the woman dry. The search party's cries seemed to be getting farther and farther away... maybe they were circling the area....

She figured that this wasn't going to end well, but tried to see the silver lining in the fact that, at least she didn't fall asleep from boredom again today....
While it is not accurate to say that Ada wasn't aware of her surroundings, since she could clearly see the twisted metal of what had once been a part of New York City, she was by no means focused on the world beyond herself. The rain's cold embrace was just the death sentence she felt would finish her off for good. The entire ruse of fleeing north to "capture" Altair, the apparent loss of Jerry, and the worst yet, the death of her brother. It had been years since she was physically attacked by him, which is why she lost her arm in the first... And yet, he had some how managed to save her one final time before he died.

Had she failed to save her brother? Or was death the only true means of escape for a tormented soul that was sold into slavery by a poor mother that couldn't even afford to feed either of children? This wasn't what she wanted to happen, death was never something she wanted to wish upon him... Is this why she was weeping? The thought of it made her mad!

This came to a crashing halt as soon as Chestal's puppy licked her cybernetic arm. Although it was entirely man made it still have all the same functions as a normal biological arm. The wonders of modern medical science as one would say. Ada then turned her head, a few tears were still trickling down her face. She wanted to smack herself for showing a sign of weakness in front of a stranger; apparently, even the most disciplined of soldiers still can show emotion.


Ada then patted the puppy. Turning her head, Ada then saw the figure of Chestal.

"Where, am I?" Ada then asked.

It was a typical question but one that always would break down barriers between people.
Few could find politics so confusing as Jerek. A religious man by nature and choice, he found the soldier duty of shooting what needed to be shot and asking little of his superiors enough. For eight years he'd operated on blind faith. These past few days were a trying time for the 00. The Solomon Project was a contrived plot to deal with the psychics should they lash out of control and yet the programming seemed set to terminate all 00's rather then but a few. Replaying the footage caught on an amateur camera Jerek relived the death of Eros and the frenzy of Dayne. A year ago Jerek would have scoffed at even an insinuation Dayne could be unbalanced or unprepared. But here he scrabbled at the twisted vehicle muttering. It was a relief Jerek had managed to intercept the footage before it hit the media. Dayne would have erased it entirely as though flicking an imperfection off his flawless face.

One could wonder where the minister's loyalty lay these days.

Regardless, Jerek was still a soldier for the Crusade. Nephilim had been on the front lines battleing the Norfolkians since the beginning of the conflict. Sporadic reports detailed mixed victories and losses, all of which ended with a request for Jerek to grace the front lines with his presence. Trained military or not, the Nephilim thrived off the Crusader's hero. As for now however, Jerek had more pressing matters to attend to in the capitol. Information was sparse, Doctor Sheridan only appearing briefly in the 00's presence before he'd been whisked away. Too many unanswered questions, too many unsaid words.

The newest orders came on his phone, the orders splaying across the screen. Dayne requested the prescence of two imprisoned 00's, Rhiannon and Setem. Rhiannon he did not recognize, but Setem he briefly remembered from Sheridan. She'd told him about others and one of particular interest was the hydrokinetic bodyguard, Setem. It must have been years since Jerek had heard the name but now the man was caught up in the Rebellion or at least accused of it. Impulsively, Jerek considered disregarding the order. Dayne was becoming less of a reliance and more of a danger as time went on. If the Solomon project had been for the extermination of the 00's, then it was likely there was a metal man for him as well. The lack of faith concerned the solider more then any of the other matters so far and brought up strange questions of his purpose.

If the 00's were hated so much, why elevate one to celebrity status?

Complex politics, the bane of a soldier's existence. Closing the phone, Jerek pulled his car away from the mainstream traffic and toward the center of the city. Little known fact was that most high profile prisoners were kept as close to the High Priest and staff as possible. Rather then ostracize them in some barren field, the most secure prison in the Crusade was build beneath the city sewer system. The project had been high security, a supposed gas explosion underneath the streets thirty years ago and the entire area was cordoned off. When the government had finished, they promised no such event would happen again.

But they left a secret beneath the asphalt and metal tubing.

The descent was quiet, the military stillness of the prison its own mood music. Solemnity soaked this place and kept it. Identifying his badge, retinal, vocal, and thumbprint identification...Jerek stepped past the automated check point and nodded at the security guard. Lendon Tasker had worked in the army before exceptional service and too many questions had put him in a fake body bag and life job beneath the streets. Years of flourscent sun had bleached the skin of the soldier, his hair thinning and jowls hinting at sag. Despite his condition, the man saluted with the same brisk pace he had up top. No show of fear in him, would that all the Crusade could be so confident.

The 00's in captivity were placed next to each other. Both were inhibited of their powers by use of a helmet measuring brain waves. The moment the machine recognized psychic activity, automated and regulated voltage would harmlessly put the prisoner into unconsciousness. The product had been field tested on Jerek at his own behest, but the strange hat of beeps and cold metal still made him uneasy.

"Setem, Rhiannon, My name is Jerek Aldere and you are to be escorted from this premises under guard to your destination. Be aware any actions you may take to escape or inflict harm will be met with immediate hostility." No other words need be said, both prisoners looked drained. Perhaps they had already felt the effects of the machine and perhaps they were just defeated. Jerek knew not which.

Escorting them from the subterranean detention center, a guard of eight men flanked either side of the prisoners as they were led up toward Dayne's penthouse. Each man had been chosen by Jerek for their quick and calculated responses. as valuable prisoners, mortal wounds were inexcuseable. Each man was steeled enough to aim for key points in the legs should things get hectic. At the very least they could prohibit conventional escape.

No ambush awaited Jerek and his men as they rode the elevator toward Dayne's penthouse. While the silence still reigned, the air smelled faintly of cinnamon and banished the drudge of the prison.

Jerek stepped into the waiting room first. The secretary there muttered a quick confirmation of the soldier's arrival on the conference phone before nodding to the 00 to proceed. Stepping into the office, Jerek saluted and moved forward to allow the prisoners and guards to enter as well.

"Prisoners 00345 and 00346 brought at your request Minister."

"At ease." Dayne said, eyes lingering on Setem and Rhiannon. Jerek let the salute fall and stepped aside from the prisoners to allow Dayne easier access. Why he wanted to question them was beyond the soldier but he hoped it might yield information on the location of the Rebellion remainder.

Summary: Jerek is having doubts and notes he has procured some amateur footage of the Solomon Project. Retrieving Setem and Rhiannon, he brings them to Dayne under guard as ordered.
Chestel looked upon the woman who had been, only moments before, thought to be unconscious still. She smiled gently and relaxed a little as the woman spoke, and was happy to know that she at least didn't great people by attacking him, like the man she had landed with.

At the thought of the repulsive man, she turned to look over her shoulder at him, and then sighed as she noted the small trickle of blood all over his head from her handiwork. The blood was being slowly washed away by the raindrops. She then remembered that the woman had asked a question of her and mentally kicked herself for letting herself forget about that.

"I apologize.... today's been.... interesting.... You're.... well... as far as I can tell, you crashlanded with your friend over here....... well.... umm... actually, please don't get mad that I tied him up like that... I.... um.... tied up up because he... well... errrrrrmmmmmm.... tried to get me to kill myself.... so... I'm sorry if... well... anyways, you crashed here with him, and well, he broke his leg in the landing, but you seemed more or less ok....ohh..... wait.... you asked where you are.... umm.... well... you're... in North Semile....." Chestel babbled slightly. Then smiled again, sheepishly.

"Are you ok? Are you cold? I tried to keep you warm, and I tried to keep you dry for the most part, but it seems like this rain isn't going to let up....." She continued. As if on cue, the rain seemed to start coming down harder and Chestel could barely hear her name being called out. She finally figured that it was time to get chewed out for leaving her station.

"I'M OVER HERE!" She called out, hoping to get out of the rain quickly. Bristol was cold, and shaking and Chestel didn't want her to be sick.
Sahar awoke to aroma of some food being fried on the oven. She then stood up, as soon as she did something slipped off her slender shoulders. It was a dark purple blanket that was wrapped around her. Zion had given it to her to stay warm while she slept. Walking towards the kitchen she noticed that Zion had a large variety of fish tanks all around this level of the house. Some where overcome by algae and had nothing living in them for decades. A few of the tanks still had a bluish liquid still sealed inside of them. They were human sized which made Sahar wonder just what this place once was.

Zion then poked his head out from the kitchen doorway and grinned.

"You're awake," Zion said, "I'm making some bread. There's some olives, dates, and nuts on the table!"

"You don't have any money...How'd you afford all these rare foods?" Sahar asked.

"Rare foods? Since when are foods rare," Zion raised his right eye brow, "My old man used to grow a garden in the back yard. I've just continued growing what he always did."

Sahar then raised her eye brow in response, "Are you sure that you didn't steal these?"

"Hey, now! I don't steal. I just take without permission somethings or I call finder's keepers! You don't know much about these rules do you?"